#while I wept on stage and he looked at me

[time-like-tears-in-rain]

can you imagine, as an actor, how awful it would be to be in character as Ten and the Bad Wolf, and not even able to look at each other or belay that emotion????

[crescenthistory]

It's Nice To Have A Friend

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Reader

Synopsis: Remus' childhood best friend is the only person he is comfortable showing unrestrained affection towards – until he one day gets in his own head about it.

Words: 14.4k

Warnings/tags: there are some suggestive remarks, brief references to "shagging" and implied underage drinking, but i would classify it as safe for minors! fem!reader, use of y/n, childhood best friends to lovers (thus you grew up in wales and use welsh terms, but you aren't said to be welsh), you are in ravenclaw (only for one plot point, not personality), platonic physical affection, romantic physical affection, kissing, "it was revealed to me in a dream" trope, some miscommunication trope, deep yearning, remus' pov (meaning loads of self-loathing and overthinking), panic attack-ish, remus cursing like a sailor and joking about jumping, kind of shy/reserved!remus, some angst, happy ending ofc, background jilypad

Note: phew this was intense but sosososo much fun to write. it is very much a fluffy fic tho, don't be worried<3 i fucking love this story/dynamic so much

It is an ill-kept secret that Remus John Lupin struggles with romantic public displays of affection.

It was something his best friends had teased him relentlessly for since the first time he was given a Valentine Day’s card in year two by a boy that he didn’t even have a crush on mind you, and became a stuttering, spluttering mess. He could still hear James and Sirius’ barks of laughter the second that Hufflepuff was out of view and could still feel the bench shake from when Peter fell off it, clutching his stomach. Remus had been sure his cheeks would be permanently dyed red from the shame.

His one friend who did not betray him in such a manner was his oldest, namely you. Remus’ sweetheart, as Sirius called you, his childhood best friend from back home who he broke the statute of secrecy for when he was too young to realise what that meant, but who thankfully turned out to be a witch too. Something you both wept tears of joy for, as you did not have to be separated when he went off to Hogwarts.

On that horrid day, you only pinched his darkening cheeks and laughed quietly – still teasing, but in a way that felt more like admiring and less like humiliating. He faintly remembers scrunching his nose at you in response, a look you immediately mirrored before you went to hide him in the crook of your neck and gave the others a faux scolding for “embarrassing poor Rem when he is wholly capable of doing so himself”. 

His makeshift pack of friends kept that routine up for the rest of his school years, consisting of James and Sirius poking constant fun, Peter enjoying it all a tad bit too much, and you “protecting” him while laughing all the same. His affliction only worsened throughout his time at Hogwarts, but if one of his afflictions were to be the butt of a joke, he supposed he was grateful it was this one.

In moments like these, it was a tad bit difficult to keep that sentiment up, though.

“You should have seen the look on his face, doll!” Sirius made out through a laugh as the group made their way back from Hogsmeade. 

He was recounting Remus’ dance on the Three Broomsticks dancefloor with one slightly-more-rowdy-than-normal Emmeline Vance who all but dragged him out there despite his quiet sputters. You had been off on some endless errands that Remus had passionately attempted to join you for before Sirius all but bolted him to the bench because “you owe me a round, you mangy wolf”.

“I believe I have seen it many a time, Siri,” you laughed out, yelping slightly when Remus pinched your side from where he had his arm around you. “Hey!” you scolded him half-heartedly, point diminished by your grin.

“Cheeky minx, don’t side with the devil!” Remus conspired with you through a stage-whisper while glaring at Sirius, whose laughter only doubled in intensity.

“You can’t ask me to lie for you, del,” you replied in the same tone of voice, leaning up to kiss his cheek as if to apologise for your treachery. An apology that was wholly accepted as Remus tugged you closer into his side and allowed for the laughter around him to continue with a sigh.

Because therein lies the one exception – Remus Lupin was pathetically incapable of public displays of affection, unless they were with you.

His problem with these displayals was the insinuation behind them and the attention that was brought to him because of it. If Emmeline dances with him, leaving a scandalously little amount of room between them, he knows what she wants from him and everyone else does, too. If his current romantic partner kisses him in the hallway, it is a glimpse into something that otherwise occurs behind closed doors, a reveal of his private life that he does not enjoy. He wants that part hidden, and embarrassment flares through him like a rocket at the thought that others bear witness to it – and then the flames are stoked when they notice that he knows and has enough dignity to be embarrassed, which just fuels an eternal evil cycle.

You, however – your wonderful self he has known all his life, you who refused to ever leave his side despite his lycanthropy and subsequent grumpy, isolationist persona, you who are his absolute better half and light of his life – there was no reason that affection should be hidden. There was nothing secretive nor fragile in your relationship, it was the purest thing he had ever had the pleasure of having.

There was nothing insinuative or blasphemous about it, there was nothing to be held against him. He would hold you, hug you, even kiss your shoulder, cheek and forehead, because he and all else around knew that it meant nothing more. It was nothing out of the norm, nothing for others to point out and bring attention to. There was no glance into something hidden away, there was no line being overstepped. It was just two best friends, aware and proud of how much they meant to one another.

So Remus never had any hesitations about leaning into your touch, about seeking yours out, about lips identifying exposed skin and staying there for a moment or two. It was something he began doing before he truly knew what embarrassment entailed, it was muscle memory as much as instinct these days.

And if others did not understand it fully, that was an issue Remus for once felt no confinement to public opinion on. If people made assumptions or threw glances, it held no importance to him. Even his Marauders, Sirius especially, raised their eyebrows at your proximity when you all first met, but they understood the routine of it all quickly. That these two first years before them were a package deal in every form of the word. It was quickly accepted within your little pack, albeit fondly commented on every now and again. James had Sirius in that same unrestrained way, bodies strewn across each other at any given opportunity, so why couldn’t Remus have you? Why wouldn’t he?

Never mind that Sirius was officially brought into James and Lily's relationship at the end of last term.

“Well, James would hug anything that moved and seemed like it might need it.” Sirius had argued one night many years ago, not needing to add the and I need it.

“And isn’t that lovely for Prongs,” Remus had drawled in return. “But I need a few years to get there, and Y/N happened to be more strategic than you lot.”

“By knowing you first?”

“Precisely. Also, she’s lovelier than you.” 

It had earned him a snort and a pillow to the face, but it was accepted without further questioning. With the exceptions only occurring in a drunken babble here and there from Sirius, alone in their dorm after a party. Remus is quite certain he couldn’t string together a coherent sentence if his life depended on it in those states, and so he never took it to heart.

Remus revelled in having something of his own, someone only he understood on that level, and his heart always warmed when he thought about how lucky he was that that someone was you.

He subconsciously pulled you even closer at that thought, content and comfortable to do so whether that be around his marauders or in front of the whole Great Hall; there was nothing more to it to be embarrassed of. It was just you; just Y/N and Remus. Like always.

“You occluding yourself away from your menace of a dorm mate?” you whispered to him then, and he angled his chin down slightly with a smile to find you looking at him curiously.

“Oh, yeah,” Remus agreed with a solemn nod. “Must prepare for being locked up in a room with him all night. It’s tedious work, you know?”

“Most certainly.” You attempted to match his faux severity, but a giggle escaped you nonetheless – a beautiful one that Remus decided to mentally save for the night, should Sirius become unbearable.

Speaking of; “I take great offence to that,” Sirius proclaimed from the few strides ahead he was, pointing his finger in Remus’ direction without turning around. “Dog-like hearing, Moony, don’t think you can get away with badmouthing me here!”

“Dog-like he says,” Remus whispered to you, earning him an indignant “oi!” as Sirius finally turned around.

“Gorgeous, would you tell your worse half to knock it off?”

“I sure will,” you declared, turning your body more towards Sirius in Remus’ grasp. “Siri, sweetheart, would you knock it off?”

Within the second, Sirius’ offended expression transformed into one of giddiness. “Awe, princess, you think of me as your other half?”

“Worse half, Pads,” James interjected, looking over his shoulder bemusedly.

“Do keep up,” Remus added with a half-hearted glare.

“Irrelevant!” Sirius threw his hands up and spun around in celebration. “I have won the title of her other half, you can get lost Moons.”

Remus used his arm around your shoulders to angle you back away from Sirius. “I think not. I’ve been keeping this friendship for so long, she’ll need a lawyer to get rid of me,” he stated matter-of-factly, looking down at you at the last bit. “Capiche?” He tilted his head at you.

You hummed through a poorly-withheld smile, as if you were considering it. “Sure thing, cariad. Meet with our lawyers tomorrow after lunch?”

Remus gasped as you ripped out of his grasp and stuck your tongue out at him. Flashbacks of your younger days chasing each other down dirt roads came to his mind and widened his grin as he saw you back away from him, eyes trained on his expression. 

“Minx,” he breathed out through a laugh just before you sat off running away from him; Remus hot on your heels, laughter escaping him freely. Sirius began running with you, though he was slowed as he twirled around and hollered, surely waking the entirety of the mountaintops surrounding the castle.

James had been minding his own business for once as he engaged in quiet conversation with Lily and Pandora, but his eyes twinkled as he eyed his three running friends, exchanging a knowing look with the redhead.

“Young love,” Pandora sighed dreamily, though James could never be certain if she was looking at the loud, carefree forms before them or at something entirely different.

Remus saw you stopped running while still some dozens of metres away from the castle, still facing away from him, but arms opening to accommodate for the impending crash of his body against yours. It does something funny to his heart to think about, but he just lets it widen his smile as he did exactly as expected – let his arms loop around your waist and twirl you around as he caught up to you. 

Your out-of-breath giggles permeated into his ears as his face was tucked in between your neck and shoulder as he slowed down, laughter calming in his own chest.

“Caught you,” he whispered through his own breathlessness. “Happy now?”

You turned in his grasp, squeezing at his shoulders both to show affection and seemingly to steady yourself as your chest still heaved; Remus held you tighter to help you in the latter endeavour. “Shook off Sirius for a bit, so yeah, I am. As should you be.”

He dropped his head laughing at that, glancing behind him through his hair to see Sirius bent over, hands on his knees as James had already caught up to him and was patting his back in sympathy. Any other time of the month, Remus would likely have been right there with him, but this was a good week and you always seemed to be able to find some semblance of energy within him, even if he thought he had none.

“I take back my calling you minx, then.” He looked at you with a smile. “That was strategic.”

“Are you saying minxes can’t be strategic, Loopy?” You raised your eyebrows at him teasingly, pulling slightly out of his grasp to breathe better.

“I’m saying– don’t call me Loopy.”

Your smile became almost taunting at that, and Remus knew his comment likely only worsened the likelihood of you using that nickname now. “I just remembered how I used to call you that the other day actually,” you mused, putting on an innocent smile. “I don’t remember why I stopped, I just forgot about it. I think it might be time for a renaissance.” 

“I think I’m too out of breath for you to say things like that. I can’t chase you any further, but that deserves to be chased.”

You shoved lightly at his shoulder at that. “You’re getting too old, you’re no fun.”

“I’m super fun. Textbook definition,” Remus harrumphed, gleaning when you rolled your eyes through a burst of laughter.

“No one who references textbook definitions is fun, Moons!” James called from where the group was catching up to you two, finally within earshot. 

Sirius was practically draped across James’ shoulder, breath still coming heavy. He pointed yet another accusatory finger, this time at you. “You’ll be the death of me, dollface. Merlin’s tits.”

“Don’t blame me for your own inadequacy, gorgeous,” you quipped back. It made Remus rather proud, especially when Sirius groaned dramatically in response.

“Time to get some beauty sleep then, yeah?” James coaxed, giving Sirius’ cheek a peck as he continued effortlessly dragging him in through the entrance of the castle.

Lily hummed in agreement, poking one of her boyfriends in the side. “Yeah, Sirius seems to need it.”

“You think I’m so sexy, Red, don’t lie to yourself,” Sirius mumbled, petulantly remaining worn out over James’ shoulders.

Remus smiled at his friends, hand reaching out behind him blindly, knowing you’d find it. Surely enough, your fingers intertwined with his own and gave him a little tug to hasten his gait down the hallways.

Moving up the staircases with surprisingly little trouble, the group finally found themselves outside the portrait of the Fat Lady, ready to split up with you and Pandora heading to Ravenclaw and the rest clambering inside. 

You made your goodbyes, quick hugs and kisses on cheeks with Lily and James and a kiss to the hand from Sirius who had decided to lay down dramatically on the floor. When you turned to Remus at last, just a tad bit away from the others, he enveloped you in a warm hug, breathing you in as he settled his chin on your shoulder.

“Let me walk you?” he asked, already knowing you would say no.

“Nice try Loopy, but I’d rather you go inside to the warmth and head to bed,” you murmured into his neck. “Thank you, though.”

You always said no. He always asked, anyway. Sometimes, if he was feeling particularly protective or otherwise missed you too much, he’d go with you anyway. Today he decided to respect your wishes.

“Tell me again why you had to be an independent person and get sorted into your own house?” he grumbled against you, smiling when he felt your chest rumbling beneath him. That same smile softened when your grip on him grew just the slightest bit tighter.

“Something tells me you’ll survive.” 

He tightened his hold on you in turn, one arm around your waist and the other stabilising your neck, before he spun your body around twice, twirling along the hallway. He relished in the laughter that escaped you and ensured to stamp a proper kiss to your hair before he released you back down to the floor.

“Sleep well, dove.”

“Goodnight, cariad,” you said through a soft smile, giving him and the others a small wave before turning around to where Pandora was waiting, grabbing her hand as you two all but skipped down the hallway together.

With his eyes still glued on your disappearing form, Remus nearly yelped as James’ hands came up to settle roughly on his shoulders – albeit somewhat careful of his joints – steering him through the now-opened portrait, who was rambling on with complaints about students taking up the space in front of her for too long.

“Funny that,” James started. 

Remus gave him a puzzled look. “What, Prongs?”

“Just that you danced with one Ravenclaw at the Three Broomsticks for two minutes and gained the colour and conversational skills of a tomato; but when you twirl and kiss this Ravenclaw, all you’re left with is that goofy grin of yours.” James’ comment seemed off-handed, said over his shoulder as they walked through the empty common room.

“First of all, it’s Y/N we’re talking about and not some Ravenclaw,” he started, confusion laced in his voice. In the meantime, James and Sirius kissed Lily goodbye, the latter giving her bum a light tap as she moved up the stairs to the girls’ dorms. “Secondly, it’s Y/N. She’s my best friend, and one of yours, mind you. What’s there to go all tomato for?”

“Some would argue, there is never any reason to go all tomato,” Sirius taunted, ducking the smack Remus aimed towards him.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” James laughed, literally waving it off. “Just pointing out the parallel. Ironic, innit?”

“Don’t see why it would be,” Remus grumbled petulantly in return. Sirius reached up to ruffle his hair somewhat roughly before entering their dorm, where Peter was already waiting for them, tucked into bed.

“What’re we laughing about tonight, fellas?” he questioned without looking up from the magazine he was reading through. Remus was fairly certain he had seen Mary reading through that very same magazine last week.

“Oh just at Remus’ peculiarities with birds.” Sirius felt emboldened with his comment from where he was crouched behind his bed – ample distance to protect him from Remus, he surely gathered.

“So, nothing new? Nice.” Peter returned his attention to the magazine it never really left.

“Yeah, don’t worry Pete – your friends are just as big arseholes as on any other day.” Remus bent down to pat the boy on the shoulder before moving over to his own bed, between Peter and Sirius’. 

“Hey, I don’t mean to be an arsehole,” James complained with almost a full pout across his lips within a second of Remus’ comment. “We’re just having a bit of fun psychoanalysing you, s’all.”

“Which, of course, is a generally accepted polite thing to do.” Remus nodded as if he was gravely understanding, only flipping James off when the other boy didn’t catch his sarcasm.

“No, Remmy, what would be rude is to point out how you are desperately–” Sirius began with taunting mirth plastered all over his face, but he was cut off as James all but jumped on him to cover his mouth. 

The black haired boy looked up at his boyfriend first with some offence and then a look Remus didn’t want to witness.

“How about we leave poor Moony alone for the night, huh baby?” James questioned, moving his hand away from Sirius’ mouth as the other boy nodded almost dumbly, still staring up at him.

“Who’s turning red now?” Remus whispered to himself as he looked through his trunk for his pyjamas. He barely had the reflexes to catch the pillow Sirius hurled at him, tossing it back with a loud laugh that was quickly reciprocated by his best mates.

As if a miracle had been awarded them by some forgiving gods, the boys’ dorm room quieted down fairly quickly after that. Sirius and James settled in Sirius’ bed for the night, barely fitting themselves onto the mattress that was almost too small for one boy, let alone two. Once in each other’s arms, however, it was an easy thing to drift off. Peter was asleep before the other three had even brushed their teeth.

Remus was the only one tossing. Not unusual, but he couldn’t really understand why that was tonight. 

His sleep cycle often closely followed the moon’s, and he was almost two weeks away from the full moon, a perfectly decent time for falling and staying asleep. Tonight, though, his body was once more fighting him. He kept replaying the night, the conversations, the interactions, trying to pin his unrest on something. He supposed that dance with Vance had been unexpected and the adrenaline spike of all the attention following it might still linger and make sleep evade him. 

Despite what his dismay for public romantic displays might indicate, Remus was no prude. As a matter of fact, just as Sirius had before he was locked down, Remus was no stranger to making his rounds at the occasional common room party. Rarer was it that he shagged anyone back home, as he spent most of his time with you, but it had happened here and there too. Vance and him had even spent a night together once at a quidditch afterparty, but he had no significant interest in her apart from a mutually understood night of fun. He never really did, even when his partners were great in all capacities. It just didn’t seem that romance was an object for Remus – and good riddance, if the struggles of dealing with it so far was any sign.

Perhaps that was it then, dancing with Vance had rehashed something for him. Though the idea didn’t settle well in his bones, Remus also knew that he would never settle if he didn’t give his mind an excuse for his sudden restlessness.

After checking the time with a hefty sigh, he decided to throw in the towel and took a small sip of a sleeping draught potion he had at the ready in his bedside table at all times. If sleep would not come to him, he would hunt it down damn it. His friends’ playful mockery and a dance he didn’t even want to partake in would not cause him any more torment.

As Remus slipped into the land of dreams, he may come to regret that sentiment, if but a bit.

There are warm bodies pressed uncomfortably close to him – the warmest of which has her arms around his neck, one hand scraping through his hair. It should feel good, Remus enjoys when his hair is played with, but this feels sharp enough to draw blood. Emmeline’s laugh is all he can make out over the chatter and stomping around him, but it feels wrong, scratchy like a record player. Her fingers on him are cold, unlike anything else in the room.

It is spinning. The room, that is. Remus is unfocused, as if he had been shooting vodka and not butterbeer earlier. He can’t quite make out any of his friends, or anyone really, Emmeline’s features bleeding out into the background.

For some reason his heart is pounding the way it does before his transformation. Everything feels painfully wrong and he is aware of every inch of his body where Emmeline is touching him.

She is still laughing and Remus is sure it would make his ears bleed, which only confuses him further because Emmeline is truly a nice girl. Just not one he wants to feel flush against himself at the moment.

He reaches a hand up to touch his ear – realising only now that his arms are hanging limply by his sides, the only static thing in the otherwise spinning room – and when he retracts his hand to look at it, his fingers are coated with blood.

His breathing grows ragged as he feels the blood running down the side of his neck. He has half a mind to tell Emmeline, to shout for help. He doesn’t. Nothing comes out when he tries to open his mouth, all control of his body ripped from his grasp.

With no warning he realises the wetness on his neck is not blood, but someone’s open mouth smearing kisses down it with reckless abandon. His stomach ties in knots and he wants to push Emmeline off of him, still to no avail.

Her grip on him tightens painfully, and Remus swears he feels a bone break. He would know.

The flurry behind her has just become a swirl of colours and sounds to him and Remus feels himself drowning in a moment he desperately wants away from. He shuts his eyes hard, taking deep breaths, trying to calm himself.

He feels a warmth in his chest, starkly different from the heat around him, that slowly, like thawing ice, begins to spread throughout him. He hums the melody you sang to him during his first ever panic attack, the sweet one that always lulls him to sleep, and the warmth spreads faster.

With his eyes still screwed shut, Remus begins to regain the feeling in his legs first, noticing them swaying back and forth to some calmer, unknown rhythm.

The feeling in his hand returns too, and it’s clasped around someone else's. Theirs is also warm, light and fits much better in his, though he’s not quite sure what he’s comparing it to.

The front of his body is warmer than the back as he’s pressed up against someone, swaying with them in a slow dance that would never have worked in the middle of Three Broomsticks. It flows with his soul.

At last, Remus can hear again, as if coming up from water. He hears that it was not him humming, but rather a soft figure tucked under his chin, humming the vibrations of the melody against the side of his neck.

When he tightens his arms instinctively, he does not need to open his eyes to know it is you.

He does anyway, looking down at you, standing in his arms, swaying together in an empty Gryffindor common room. There is a lazy smile on your lips as you look up at him, cheek against his chest, eyes twinkling like the starlight.

Remus feels right. Remus feels good. His thoughts are honey, sweet but slow, coating over any coherent reactions he might have to standing here with you like this. He escaped and he is with you and all is right once more.

Have you danced like this before? Did it feel like this then?

You seem unpuzzled, relaxed. The warmth settles in Remus for good.

“Hey handsome,” you whispered, as if you were sharing a secret with him before angling your face more up towards his.

Remus is not in charge of his body when his neck dips down and lets his lips meet yours halfway, casual and expectantly, a habit as much as a wish. You taste like yourself. You smell like yourself. Remus is surrounded by you, cornered by your smile against his lips.

You pull back all too quickly, furrowing your brows at him. Dream-Remus has no hesitation of removing the hand from around your back to thumb at the furrow, brushing away any negative thoughts from you. He kisses the spot between your eyebrows.

Everything is right.

When his eyes meet yours again, the concerned look in them has not changed. You reach a tentative hand up to his cheek, thumb swiping over his cheekbone as you hold him with what he irrevocably knows to be love. 

“It’s time to wake up, cariad,” you said with a small sad smile.

The last thing Remus remembers is the feeling of the floor disappearing beneath him.

Remus sat up with a gasp, and for a rare moment in time he was speechless.

He was not a stranger to invasive, questionable or downright spiritual dreams, a side effect of both his connection with the moon and the tons of potions he has taken over the years. Usually, he is present in his dreams and acts as his own little commentator during and after them, narrating what happens and what he thinks of it.

It was not uncommon for him to think “I think I will remember this one” as the final thought in a dream. Or when he wakes up in tears, his first thought was often “that was a bit dramatic of you, calm down”.

Now, he had nothing. Now, he was speechless.

Worse yet, usually when he wakes up with a jolt, it is in the middle of the night – but now, as his senses began to trickle back in, he could hear the commotion around him that only could mean the boys are at various stages in the process of getting ready.

Remus Lupin had just had a life-altering, earth-shattering dream, and James Fleamont Potter was repeatedly knocking his knee into his nightstand as he jumped around while tying his shoes on, instead of sitting down to do it like a normal person would.

He thought James was saying something, and maybe even to Remus specifically, but he could still hear the blood rushing through his head. Beneath that again, he could hear your humming. 

With a groan, Remus let himself topple over from his sitting position to land face-first into his duvet.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. What the fuck?

“Oi!” Remus finally heard, as what felt like a rolled up pair of socks hit his head. “What in Godrick’s name has gotten into you, mate? You good?” It was Sirius voice calling, seemingly from across the room.

Remus just groaned in reply. His eyes were wide open as he stared directly into his sheets, feeling both freezing cold and like his brain was slowed by a fever.

“You okay, Moons?” Peter’s voice came gentler from beside him. Remus thought his hand might be hovering near him, as if he was considering consolingly patting him but was unsure if he should.

Another groan.

“Okay, what about this: groan once if this is Moony mooning over something and twice if you’re in actual crisis,” James suggested, not unkindly.

A singular groan, though it sure did feel like two.

“Groan once if you’re a prick and twice if you’re insufferable,” Sirius felt the need to comment.

Instead of making any further sounds, Remus wrangled his arm from beneath the blanket to show Sirius how he felt about him in the moment with a gesture.

“Fantastic!” James exclaimed. “You have class in 35 minutes, Moons, and breakfast now, so best get a move on.” Remus heard the telltale sound of James leaving – as in, James’ heavy footsteps moving across the floor and Sirius scrambling like a dog to follow after him. At the complete lack of sounds in the rooms after that, he assumed Peter moused after them as well.

At last Remus sat up with a sigh and stared emptily in front of him, mind moving too fast for him to catch a thought but too slow for him to properly process anything.

What does this mean? 

Except Remus could no longer deny that he knew what it meant. That the instant your humming caressed his ears, he knew what it meant. That his subconsciousness wanted to replace a girl who saw him as a romantic prospect in a place Remus felt queasy in with you in a place he considered home. That is no coincidence.

And that when you kissed him–

Except you did not kiss him. Remus shook his head at that, as if the thoughts could just tumble out of his ears. You did not kiss him and he did not kiss you. Because this was a dream, it was not real and Remus must just be really, really unwell.

He felt unwell, but not in the way he was trying to convince himself.

Taking one deep breath, Remus looked to the awning of their little dormitory and shot out a silent prayer for any higher power to listen.

Put me back together, I cannot fall apart like this.

Bury this back down deep, I cannot feel like this.

It was going to be a long day.

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

By the time Remus had made it to the entryway to the Great Hall, feeling frazzled and less put together than he had an excuse to, he saw his group of friends making their way out.

“Rem!” It was you who caught sight of him first, and immediately beelined towards him, the others following closely behind, wearing varying degrees of concern and confusion as they looked him up and down.

Your face was by far the most concerned, as you immediately brought your left hand up to cup his cheek. “Are you alright, cariad?”

For the first time in your almost two decades of friendship, Remus was painfully aware of your physical proximity.

He always knew, of course, but it never really registered with him – it was completely natural. Right now, nothing about him felt natural. You stood flush with him and he felt you against him like a fire, skin singeing beneath his clothes. Your eyes seemed so big looking into his that he could get lost in them, his only internal monologue being a dreamy sigh and a long string of curse words at the absolute madhouse chaos that his mind was becoming. As he looked at you, it was like he could see his version of you from his dream as well, how you looked at him with so much love and admiration, how your lips inched closer to his.

“Mate?” Remus realised then, that he had been staring at you for far too long, not answering your question, to the point where James had to try to catch his attention.

“I– uh,” Remus sputtered, eyes flickering wildly all over your face, panic rising in his chest as he realised he could not think clearly with you so close.

He took a step back without thinking, just barely out of your grasp but still close, and shook his head. “Sorry, yeah, no, yes, I just feel a bit… off today.”

The furrow between your brows deepend, and once more his mind flashed back to his dream. His hand twitched. It seemed like you weren’t even aware of it when you took a step closer, to be back by his side, reaching your wrist up to place it on his forehead to feel his temperature. “You’re feeling poorly?” you whispered so quietly and so lovingly Remus thought he might faint.

Was it always like this? It was always like this. Why was he freaking out about it then? He was freaking out. What the fuck was wrong with him?

With horror, Remus realised that a slight blush was creeping up his neck, and he fought hell to keep it down as he cleared his throat. “Just a little, uh, dove, it’s nothing to worry about.”

“Do you want to go lay down?” You began what he knew would be a string of suggestions for things to do to make him feel better, and he could not stand watching you be so concerned when he was lying to you.

Almost like a flinch, he pulled back out of your arms – properly this time, taking several strides backwards away from the group. It barely registered with him that James and Sirius were looking at him with some confused amusement while Lily looked sympathetic.

“I, erm, will be fine, yeah? Nothing to worry about.” Without properly looking, he reached an arm out to grab Peter by the shoulder and all but manhandled him to his side. “Peter and I have Herbology now, but uh, I’ll catch you later?”

Remus hated how everything he said sounded like a question, like he was running a lie by you for you to confirm if it was believable. Remus hated that he couldn’t tear his gaze away from your face for more than a few seconds and most of all he hated that he was spiraling under the weight of your gaze in turn. A horrible combination.

“Take care, Rem,” you whispered as he all but ran away from you, hauling Peter along.

You stood looking after him for a moment, only turning your head when you felt Lily’s reassuring hand on your shoulder to find a small smile on her face.

“What in the buggering hell was that?” Sirius questioned, looking mostly at you for an answer.

“I don’t know,” you said, honestly. Had you known, you might still not have told him, though, if you thought Remus wouldn’t want you to. “I usually always know about his moods before they come, but this has me stumped,” you murmured, mostly to yourself.

“He woke up weirdly,” James mused, rubbing his hand across his chin. “I guess we’ll just see where the day goes, yeah?”

The four of you nodded at each other, but you still gnawed on your lip in concern, glancing over your shoulder to where he disappeared. 

Whatever it was, you hoped he would come talk with you about it when he was ready.

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

Remus only had one hour to compose himself during Herbology before he had Charms with you. Sharing most of his classes with you was something he had always considered a blessing, and while that sentiment would likely never fade, it was also causing him some distress as he almost toppled the work desk with his jittering.

Peter didn’t question him, but Remus’ obvious nerves were apparently contagious for the anxious boy who jittered right along with him, casting him the occasional glance.

Letting his elbows fall heavily on the desk, Remus put his head in his hands and ignored the instructions Professor Sprout was walking them through – he would let Peter pick up the slack for once and then subsequently accept the lower marks. Right now, Remus had to think and get his shit together.

He breathed his way through some panic exercises and pictured you in his mind. It almost brought a smile to his lips in an instant and for the first time, he let the realisation of how irrevocably wrecked for you he was.

Has it always been like this? Why have I never put this into words before? How can I revert back?

In that moment, Remus decided two things. Firstly, there was no possibility of you returning his feelings nor would he ever expect you to. It was true that you accepted and loved him in a way he never could quite believe himself deserving of, but that in itself is testament that it couldn’t be any more. What you gave him was already too much, it would be unthinkable for you to harbour even deeper feelings for him.

Second, and most importantly, he could not lose you. Remus has made many mistakes in his time, but he could not live with himself if he lost you. It would be too much. Because regardless of the fact that he now knew he was– that he now knew what he knew, the friendship between you was the most important thing. It was Remus and Y/N, right?

He could not be weird and sputtering, he could not make you uncomfortable. Meaning, he could not withdraw from you despite his instinct to run and hide. Shame burned within him at the thought that even if he could withdraw he didn’t know if he could fight his want not to. You were muscle memory.

Remus opened his eyes and slowly dragged his palms down his face in resolution. He would have to act as if nothing was wrong, and he would have to lie through his bloody teeth to explain away whatever bodily reactions he has.

If he starts stammering, he will have to shut up and lie that he is tired. If he becomes an embarrassing shade of auburn, he will have to cough and lie that he might be coming down with a fever. If he shakes, it is because of lack of sleep. If he, Merlin forbids, cries, he will have to claim he must be coming down with some odd moonsickness. You will surely follow him to Madam Pomfrey and maybe it will be easier when you’re alone.

Or maybe it will be worse.

No matter which it was, Remus would have to soldier it, for your sake. You did not deserve his imposing infatuation, but you also did not deserve to lose what you thought to be a loyal friend.

When him and Peter packed up the barely-used desk and mumbled a goodbye to a disapproving Sprout in the door, Remus made it his mission to focus on his breathing again as he almost ran down the hallways to where your friend group always met up outside the Charms classroom.

Be normal, be normal, be normal.

Your eyes found him the second he rounded the final corner, almost as if you had been watching it, waiting for him. A beautiful smile lit up on your face as soon as you saw him, albeit a bit dampened by the worry in your eyes – he simultaneously wanted desperately to soothe you while also berating himself for it being there. His fault.

“Hey dovey.” He forced his words to be casual, his smile to be measured as he strode up beside you. 

This is where he is supposed to drag you into a sideways hug, squeezing your hips while dropping a kiss on the top of your head, causing Sirius to make some quip about “you were literally just gone an hour. He stood beside you perhaps a beat too long before he began to do so with shaking hands, and he felt your burning look as you studied him. Remus made it all the way up to where he would kiss your head before he chickened out due to the tornado screaming in his stomach.

“Hi, Rem,” you all but whispered, your words just for him. You opened your mouth to say more, but he was afraid of what it would be.

“Waited long?” he asked to distract you from it.

“Nah,” you said and leaned further into his side. “But I’m glad you’re here now. How’re you feeling?”

At that, he saw Peter, Sirius, James and Lily – who had been stuck in their own little world – look up and try to hear what he has to say. Remus crumbled under their watchful gazes, knowing they knew him well enough to pick apart his every little reaction. He cleared his throat.

“I don’t really know,” he settled for. “My head’s murky, didn’t sleep well.”

You made a soft cooing sound and started rubbing circles on the side of his hip from where your arms were circled around him. It knocked a wave of dizziness into him that made him want to take a step back to lean against the cold stone wall behind you. In replacement he settled for holding onto you tighter; it only made it worse.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go lay down? Merlin knows we won’t be missing out on anything with the way Flitwick rambles away any sense he might have.”

This is where Remus would laugh heartily at your obvious disdain for the professor that he never truly understood. Instead, his mind zeroed in on one word you said.

We. We, we, we, we.

Circe’s tits, did he want to take you up on that.

He swallowed, acutely aware that you must have heard the sound when stood so close to him, though you didn’t give away any reaction. To buy himself a moment to collect his thoughts, Remus finally dared tilt his chin downwards to kiss the top of your head. It might have been too slow, too tentative, but his heart was beating so fast the rest of his body felt too slowed down in comparison. He hoped you thought the kiss was a thank you for caring and not the nervous stall it was. He hoped he wouldn’t be eternally damned for breathing in the scent of you.

“I’m quite alright, dove,” he murmured instead, furiously avoiding the surely questioning gazes of his other friends. “Thank you, though.”

You grumbled some but didn’t push him on it. He silently thanked you for that, too.

His throat was too parched to partake in the silent banter amongst his friends as you walked into Charms, too focused on where your bodies brushed as you walked, too deafened by the sound of your laughter.

You sat down in your regular spots, you and Remus side by side in the front, with Sirius and James behind you and Lily and Mary to your right. This was normal, this was alright. Flitwick droned on about the theoretics and debates around the charms you learned last lesson, it went in one ear and out the other.

Absentmindedly, you had grabbed Remus’ hand lightly between yours and were tracing soothing circles along his wrist and palm. You meant so well, and this would have cured likely any other ailment Remus struggled with, but right now there were fireworks going off in his head.

Taking advantage of the notice Dumbledore had given all of his professors to not call Remus out on sleeping in class, he folded his arms and laid his head down on them, carefully not to take his hand away from you. If he could shield his face, he could probably talk himself down before class ended.

In the solitude of his arms, he could picture it was just the two of you, sitting in the treehouse you built between your houses as children. If he focused enough, he could smell the apples that grew around him and feel the rough wood beneath his stomach. There, your hand would still be in his, maybe even your cheek on his chest, and it would be alright. It would all be alright because it was just you, and Remus could play dumb and he would never have to realise his feelings and fuck himself over.

It almost worked. Until he was interrupted.

“Psst! L/N?” The whisper was laced with a laughter Remus knew too well and did not care for.

You clearly ignored it – Remus could practically see the eye roll you surely threw his way – but that wasn’t enough to stop his theatrics.

“L/N!” Barty called once more from a couple seats behind you to your right, voice threatening to alert Flitwick to your inattention. “What’s wrong with your dog?”

“What?” you whispered back in equal parts confusion and irritation.

“Your puppy, Lupin,” Barty said, as if it was obvious. Unfortunately, Remus could picture his eye roll too, though his stomach was turning for a wholly different reason. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Remus is quite alright, Junior,” you hissed back, hand tightening on Remus’ at the same time as he loosened it. “And don’t call him a dog.”

Remus slowly lifted his head from his arms and took back his hands to wipe harshly at his face, still not looking towards Junior who barked a low laugh.

“Follows you around like one. Wouldn’t surprise me if you had some invisible leash going on–” Barty quipped, cutting himself off before you could respond and turning to Evan Rosier sitting beside him. “Oooooh, an invisible leash is a marvellous idea, Rosie.”

It was clear you had lost his attention, but Remus’ face still burned painfully as he shifted in his seat. With a harrumphing sound, you turned to look at him. He didn’t meet your eye, couldn’t.

“Ignore him.” Remus always marvelled at how you manage to convey your frustration and care at the same time.

He just hummed in the affirmative, still wiping a bit harshly at his face. If he treated it harshly enough, could he blame his violent flush on it?

“Cariad,” you mumbled, gently taking his hands away from his face, clearly spotting his efforts.

He saw your furrowed eyebrows looking at him, and that was the end of what he could take for the lesson. As you opened your mouth, surely to inquire about how he is, like the beautifully kind person he knows you to be, he pushed his chair backwards.

“I think I should probably listen to you and go lay down, dove,” he murmured, avoiding your gaze. Before you could shoot in and say you would come with him, he continued. “Can you please take notes for me in Transfiguration after this?” 

An indirect rejection, a plea for isolation. He didn’t look at your face as he gathered his things, waiting for you to respond instead.

“Sure, if that’s what you want,” you said carefully.

What I want is you.

“Yes, please.” Taking a deep breath, he leaned forward and pressed a parting goodbye kiss to your cheek, tradition. “Thank you, love.”

Then he was sneaking his way out around the desks, barely catching a murmured voice he knew to be Sirius’, likely leaning forward to ask you about him. His lips singed.

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

Remus hid away in his room for two hours, actually being truthful and trying to get a nap in. The dorm room felt serendipitous, being swept up in rare silence and a grace of darkness as he trickled in and out of consciousness. If he dreamed more of you, he would not admit it.

Any semblance of reprieve he might have chased down was ripped away from him by the creaking of the door and the wall of sound that followed his three favourite boys who always got on his last three nerves.

“Oi, Moons!” Sirius exclaimed, far too cheerily. “You know the rules!”

Remus propped his head up on his elbow from where he was sprawled on his stomach, looking blearily at the three figures as they situated themselves within the dorm. “The rule to not wake a sleeping sod? Yes, I’m the only one who knows that rule it seems.”

Sirius took off his sweater as he discarded his uniform and used it to swat at Remus. “Nope! No wallowing on your own. Sharing is caring.”

“‘M not wallowing,” Remus grumbled as he let his head fall back into his pillow.

Letting his guard down was undoubtedly a mistake because the second Sirius was out of sight, he had the audacity to jump into Remus’ bed, nearly flinging him off from the impact. Both Sirius and James were laughing boisterously as Sirius collapsed on top of Remus and ruffled his hair when he tried to shove him off. “Not anymore, no, we won’t let you.” 

Remus hated that he loved them.

“Precisely,” James added as he pointed at Remus from where he was changing into his non-uniform clothes as well. “So either speak your mind or perk up, buttercup.”

Remus groaned but let Sirius drag him up into a sitting position. “Can a poor lycanthrope not have one off day without you lot getting your knickers in a twist?” Despite his best efforts, there was no ire in his voice.

“Nope!” James said, popping the p. “Not on our watch.”

“Life is simply miserable without our Moony,” Sirius said, clutching his chest as if he was ailing. “And do you have any idea how weird it is to see your sweetheart without you by her side? It’s like watching a cut up picture.”

All humour that had been creeping into Remus’ expression was washed away in and instant as he swallowed harshly, suddenly averting his gaze from Sirius. Instead, James caught it, who looked at him with big eyes behind his glasses, cocking his head to the side. He looked far too much like the stag he is, before his mouth opened in a small gasp. “Oh,” he whispered softly.

Remus’ heart was beating painfully hard at the look of realisation that crossed his face, turning back to Sirius who had a similar knowing, almost pitying look in his eyes. No, no, no, no.

“I’ll be fine, you, erm, won’t have to live without me much longer,” Remus tried to volley back, just a few seconds too late, tongue feeling heavy at being found out.

If his best mates could see through him that quickly, then you probably already had. He had half a mind to take you up to the Astronomy Tower like old times, so he could apologise and then jump off as an act of redemption.

Sirius gave his shoulder a rough squeeze, shaking him a little as if he knew what was going through his mind. “Fantastic. Then you’ll join us for our free periods, yeah? And the party later tonight?”

Still somewhat sputtering, Remus’ eyes widened to an extent he was sure was comedic. “The pa– the party?”

James smiled at him. “Yeah, Moons. Gryffindor half-term party? That we have talked about all week?”

“Merlin, maybe Pomfrey needs to go easy on the potions she gives you,” Sirius teased, getting up to finish changing.

“Or she could give me more,” Remus whispered hopefully, earning him a round of chuckles. 

“You’ll be fine, Rem,” James said, with an undertone Remus did not care for. “If you’re still feeling… off throughout the day and night, you can always snuggle up with a book and ignore us hooligans.” Then, almost as if he was testing the waters. “I’m sure Y/N would love to join you.”

Remus didn’t deign any of that with a response, but he suddenly thought he should get out of his bed so his face didn’t seem so red in contrast with the white sheets.

“I have some essays to knock out, so yeah, I’ll join you to study,” Remus relented. He opened his own trunk to get changed, but decided to half-ass it and just take off his tie and replace his uniform wool with one of his own patterned jumpers.

“And for the party later!” Sirius corrected, ensuring Remus didn’t think he could back out.

“Sure, sure.” He ruffled his own hair so it was Remus-messy and not Sirius-messed-up-my-hair-messy. “Let’s just go.”

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

Considering the extent to which he could fuck this up for himself, Remus reckoned he had been doing fairly good keeping his shit together throughout the day.

If he mentally cursed more than normal, contemplated the murder of each one of his friends including himself and generally couldn’t breathe, well, that was merely part of it.

The whole lot had shacked up in the library for the triple free periods you had back to back on Fridays. While you doted concernedly over him for the first thirty minutes, you eased up once you seemed to decide that this wasn’t Remus shoving down some lycanthropy-struggles and avoiding support and help. 

As always, the two of you sat in the love seat, your legs sprawled over his lap as you read through your textbooks in the oddest positions. This was usually something he might chide you for – “your neck will hurt if you hang over the edge like that, love” – but today he buried his face into his textbooks with all his might to not seem like he was aware of your body. He was, of course, you burned over his skin and lit up his heart, and Circe’s tits was he the stupidest sod in the whole castle.

Nonetheless, he made it through all three hours, engaging in comforting banter and low laughs with his best mates. When you teamed up with him to mess with Sirius, he at least knew that you weren’t upset with him in any way, even though he was being a lunatic today, even though he most definitely would have deserved it.

What Remus knew would be his breaking point was the Gryffindor party.

It was a laid back event, a party thrown for all of Gryffindor, though it was mostly the upper years who were encouraged to attend. They arranged it halfway through every term to celebrate making it through and engaging with each other. Meaning, most people didn’t get shitfaced but there was some good bubbling energy maintained throughout the whole night.

You and Remus had a tradition for how you dealt with parties – just as you had a tradition for pretty much everything, he had come to notice. Gods, he lov– Stop it.

Neither one of you were necessarily fond of large crowds, but you both were incredibly loyal and fond of your friends and wanted to spend time with them. Thus, you attended the parties, but you always did so together. The more uncomfortable you got, the closer you would get to each other, and if one ever needed a break, they would tap the other three times and they would make up an excuse to usher them out of there.

It had never felt so unnerving to be so known.

Throughout the whole party he had been jittery, head rushing with thoughts. He desperately tried not to take in your outfit and then he desperately tried not to read into it when you seemed disappointed he didn’t compliment you for it like he usually did. Why did he have to be such a sweet best friend normally? Remus can’t keep up with himself.

It did not help him in the slightest that others around the party seemed to focus on your outfit much more openly than he could dare. It made him gravitate even closer to you, tighten his hand on his hip, momentarily rest his chin on the top of your head – and then his actions made him want to kick himself. Possessiveness was the last thing he could be engaging with when he was already betraying you in such a manner. 

Leave it to Remus to fuck up something beautiful.

To say you didn’t seem to notice that he was troubled would be taking it too far, but at least you didn’t seem to notice why. You kept him close to your side and would at random points stroke his back soothingly. He wondered if you just thought he was uncomfortable with the party.

You were chatting with Pandora by the drinks table when Barty and Evan strolled up to you both with cheshire cat grins.

“There he is, back on his leash,” Junior said through a menacing laugh, ignoring Evan’s slight elbow to his side. “Feeling better, darling?”

“What brings you to the lions' den, Junior?” Remus asked carefully to divert the topic.

“Well. Y/N’s going so Pandora’s going so Evan’s going, and thus–” he did a small flourishing spin “– I’m going.”

“You’re impossible,” Evan murmured, while Pandora just smiled happily. 

“Is he feeling better, then?” Barty asked once more, this time looking at you.

“No, actually,” you said with a small smile Remus knew not to be genuine. “He is absolutely devastated you’re not in the Slytherin common room right now. He had big plans for you there, you know.”

Remus tried to choke down his laugh as Barty looked torn between glee and irritation. Somehow he made both work. “Sorry to soil your plans then, Lupin. Better luck next time.”

Then he stalked off in almost a hurry and Remus couldn’t help but hope he was going to Slytherin to check if you were telling the truth. 

He looked down at where you were standing beside him and squeezed your shoulder lightly. “You really are a minx,” he whispered conspiratorially.

That turned out to be his undoing. You turned your head to the side to look up at him with mirth playing around in your enamouring eyes, a soft tilt to the corner of your mouth. And your face was oh so painfully close to his.

Remus became acutely aware that he could easily lean in and catch your smile with his. That the air he was breathing had been close to you in some of the only ways he had not yet. That he must look like your boyfriend when you’re standing essentially pressed up against each other like this.

That he most certainly has been looking at your lips for far too long.

When he flicks his gaze back up, he sees a slight furrow between your brows again as you seem to take in his reaction, and suddenly he goes from having butterflies in his stomach to needing to throw them all up. He took a sudden staggering step backwards, almost crashing into James who was engaging in some animated discussion with Marlene.

“I, uh,” Remus said and dear Godrick he was stammering. “I’ll get us some drinks and we can sit down, yeah?” He didn’t wait for you to respond, instead spinning his back to you and hoping you pick up conversation with Pandora again.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Don’t be a bloody arse.

He hoped he had steadied himself enough by the time he plopped down in his favourite grandfather chair near the fire. He placed both of your drinks on the table in front of him, vowing to touch his as minimally as possible to make sure he keeps whatever wits he has left with him.

A dumb smile takes over his face as his breathing quickens when he sees you make your way over to the seating area, after having listened to his desperate silent plea and finished your conversation with Pandora. Pushing his luck, he shoots another silent prayer that it will be smooth sailing from here, which is apparently promptly ignored as you happily sit down in his lap.

Fuck.

This, he reminds himself, is also normal for the two of you. Especially at parties, especially if you have reason to believe he is unsteady in any sense of the word, which he most certainly has given you plenty of reason to believe. 

You give him some form of greeting he can’t quite catch and isn’t sure if he reciprocated as you settle down, putting majority of your weight on his right thigh as you lean your body sideways against his. One of your arms snuck around his shoulders, fingers winding up playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, while the other is stabilising yourself on his knee. Majority of your close friends had followed your lead by sitting down in the small gathering, chattering amongst themselves. He was half-aware that you were rambling on about something to him, something he probably really wanted to listen to, but it felt like his head was underwater.

Unsure of what else to do, he lowered his face into your shoulder and took deep breaths there.

You seemed wholly unbothered, fingers continuing in his hair as your soothing voice carried him through what he feared might become a panic attack. He was almost there, when the cocoon you two had in your chair was burst by the presence of your other friends.

“You alright there, Moons? You’re not going to go all vampire on poor Y/N?” Sirius’ tone was lighthearted and teasing, but Remus felt as if he might actually die.

“Oh, he’s quite alright,” you answered for him with a smile before he could embarrass himself, immediately switching over to engage in conversation with the friends sitting closest to you. Your hand on his knee squeezed reassuringly.

Fuck, how could he not love you?

He loved you.

Remus almost had to fight crying as he hid in the crook of his neck, overwhelmed by his own emotions and the surely watchful gazes of those around him – the latter of which was why he couldn’t. 

With a deep breath he let his desire win for just one second and pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder before emerging from his hiding place. He shifted you carefully to be more comfortable, so that your back was against him and he could rest his head on the shoulder he just kissed.

He did fairly good, partaking in conversation, engaging with the others, albeit more quietly and less than usual. He laughed and he smiled and you were so soft against him, as if you had melted. Remus was in heaven while being tortured.

Marlene wolf whistled quietly from where she was sat on the floor, eyeing Remus with mirth. Though he still did not know why, he was already turning red, the tips of his ears burning.

“Hi, Remmy.” He heard the soft voice say beside him and he turned his head to see Emmeline giving him a somewhat sly smile. “The dance floor’s picking up. Want to go for another round?”

Remus’ stomach churned. Emmeline was such a sweet girl and he never could say no to her, the only thing that felt worse than the embarrassment from his friends’ teasing was the thought of embarrassing her – though Remus was sure even thinking like that made him into an even bigger arse.

Sirius and James had told him multiple times that he could say no. As had you, reminding him how important it was to have boundaries, even while you were sitting practically on top of him at the time. He just could never bring himself to.

Yet his mouth seemed to move on its own accord before he could think, arms tightening around you. “No, not tonight Emmeline, sorry. Knock yourself out, though.” He tried to give her a warm smile, but his movements seemed to be outside of his control at the moment, breath sucked from his lungs.

He realised with a sting that he should have given her more credit all along when she beams back at him. “No worries, enjoy your night!” she cheered before twirling towards the dance floor herself.

Remus let out a shaky breath and turned to his friends who were almost staring him down. James’ mouth was even open in shock, which he thought was a bit dramatic.

“Hold on, what just happened?” Sirius guffawed. “Has our little Moony learned to say no?”

Remus flushed even further. “Shut up, Pads.”

“Don’t think I will,” his mate replied with a wolfish grin turning to look to the others for support. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

“What’s inspired this change in you?” Mary asked thoughtfully, propping her head into her hands as if she was settling in for a lengthy response.

All eyes were back on Remus and he felt like the mask he had been clinging to all day was crumbling. The nerves that shot through him like lightning now was not his usual humiliation from being in a charged spotlight – no, this was fear. Genuine fear that if he didn’t get his head screwed back on within two seconds, he might say something too revealing, or his face would do it without him having to open his mouth. That his fiery ears would somehow spell out I am in love with my very best friend and I realised it too late and am making it everybody else’s problem. He had no idea what to do.

In his time of despair, with Mary’s big eyes staring up at him, Marlene and Lily already snickering between them and Sirius raising an expecting brow, his instincts knew of only one way out.

His finger on your hip lifted. Tap, tap, tap.

Almost as if a switch had gone off, you made a soft gasp and turned to look at him in his lap. “Gods, Rem, speaking of Emmeline, I totally forgot our gift for Sirius in my dorm room in Ravenclaw!” you exclaimed, putting your all into the act. Your excuse seemed to be a good one as Sirius’ head immediately picked up, not unlike that of a dog’s if you said the word ‘treat’ around them. “We have to go get it before the party’s over.”

You elegantly hopped up and out of his lap, dragging him behind him with a grip on his elbow. Remus stumbled and scrambled behind you, tossing a sorry don’t know what that’s about look to the others over his shoulder. He barely caught sight of what he could only classify as a knowing exchange of smiles between James and Lily.

Before he could truly process your rescue mission, he was standing outside in the cool hallway breathing heavily, portrait closed behind him. 

Before him, you stood with your hands on your hips, scanning his face thoroughly, making him almost cower beneath your gaze. You seemed to make up your mind about something as you took his hand once more and walked with him down the hall in silence, rounding the corners until you reached one of the deep windowsills, the kind the two of you would always sit in and read. 

You jumped to lift yourself into it and once you were sat with one hand on each side of your body, you levelled him with a look.

“Okay, spill,” you said, directly but not unkindly. “What is going on with you?”

Remus did not think this through. He needed help and so he called upon you for it like he always does, not thinking to consider that that might very well make this worse for him.

“It’s…” he began, picking at straws in his mind for an excuse. “It’s nothing, dove. Really.” 

“When’s my birthday?” you asked then, to his surprise. He furrowed his brows at you and told you the date. You smiled a bit smugly. “Exactly. So you know I wasn’t born yesterday.”

He genuinely laughed at that, even if it was at his expense. He let his body do as it wished and took a small step closer to you. Not enough for your bodies to touch, but enough to feel like he was in your space. Safe, even in his panic.

“Remus,” you said softly, painfully gently. You rarely used his first name, and now when you did, it was laced with an undertone he couldn’t stomach. It was beginning to sound a bit like hurt. “What is going on with you? Why… why are you acting this way towards me?”

Because you are the one thing I have never had to question and now I’m questioning everything. Because I’m a bloody prick who has one dream and ruins his life over it. Because my mind is running a mile a minute and your lips feel like magnets and I swear I am losing control in a way I only do during full moons.

“I don’t know what to do,” he ended up whimpering quietly, cowardly.

You looked around the hallway as if the answer would be written on any of the walls and moved your arms slightly to gesture around you. “About what? I can’t help you unless I know what it is, cariad.”

He scrunched his face for a moment, looking away from you. “Can we not do this? It’s nothing you can fix, dove.”

You seemed to grow even more confused at that, almost frustrated. “Why not?” He realised then that the two of you had always helped each other through everything. Being locked out must hurt. He wanted to kick himself, but he didn't know what else to do. “What’s wrong, Remus, please I just–”

Remus is besieged by the power of someone much more reckless, driven by desire to alleviate you of your confusion and him of his pain.

He cut you off with a kiss.

He took a large stride forward to slot himself in between your thighs, eliminating the space between you within a second, bringing both hands up to cup the sides of your face and bring it towards him. His eyes were shut tightly, furrow in his brows as his lips all but smashed against yours in a kiss that felt sacrificially sacred. Your lips are just as soft as in his dream, as is the small gasp that escapes you as you tense in his grasp.

Remus has never felt better and he has never felt worse.

The kiss lasts for about 10 seconds before he pulls away in even more of a flurry. His hands lost their grip on you first, hovering over your cheeks briefly, as if considering going back in before thinking better of it. He still had you captured in the kiss, hanging on to it for as long as he could deign himself, knowing it was his last opportunity to do so, all the while kicking himself over it.

Backing away, he put double the distance between you. He felt drunk, stumbling slightly as he all but scrambled away, a stinging sensation behind his eyes.

“I’m so sorry, I don't know why I did that. I didn’t mean to,” he breathed out, reeling at his own impulsivity. “That,” he said through a shaking voice as he looked anywhere but your face, “is my problem, and Y/N, I am so, so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

For the shortest second, he lets his eyes flicker quickly over your face before rushing back to stare at a statue on the wall beside you. Your face was blank, eyes wide. Your fingers were barely touching the lips he had just enclosed in his own.

You must be disgusted. You must be horrified. You must feel violated and Remus wanted nothing more than to disappear from the face of the earth and rid you of this undying problem.

He was every bit the beast you had tried to convince him he wasn’t.

“Why…” you began, voice but a whisper, before you trailed off.

Remus had to shut his eyes at that, tilting his head slightly to the side. If he breathed through his nose, he might not cry. He was sitting before the highest court he knew, and you were about to ask him to explain himself.

“Why are you sorry?”

The words floored him a little, enough to make his eyes snap open and land back on your face. You looked deeply concerned, brows tilted upwards as you seemed to take his face in. “Remus,” you whispered now that you finally had his eyes on you. “Why are you sorry?”

He shook his head in confusion, feeling every bit like the boy he was. “I shouldn’t have done that.” It was all he could get out through his hoarse voice. He also had no idea how to answer that question in a satisfactory way.

You took in a short sharp breath and then lowered yourself onto the ground to stand before him. With your hands held out in front of you, almost as if you were ready to lunge out and catch him if he was to run – an idea that was becoming increasingly enticing to him – you took a small step towards him. “Why?” There was a growing spark in your eye, dimmed only by your worried frown.

“Y/N.” He didn’t know what else to say, eyes trained on you.

“Cariad,” you replied in the same tone, and a tear slipped down his left cheek. You took another measured step towards him, enough to reach out for him if you wanted to – but of course, you wouldn’t want to, not anymore. “It’s alright.”

He felt dizzy at the lack of the scolding or disgust he had braced himself for, realising how stupid he was for even fearing that from you. No, you would reject him sweetly and kindly, and his heart would never be mended from it. That felt worse, somehow.

“It’s not,” he whispered. “Please don’t say it is.”

You smiled ruefully and took another small step towards him. He could feel the warmth eminating from you. Tentatively, you reached up a hand to wipe at the tear still sitting on his left cheek. He held his breath and fought the urge to lean into your touch, but when you pressed your palm more firmly against his cheek, he couldn’t anymore. A soft sigh escaped him and he let his eyes fall shut as your touch supported him. “It is, my sweet boy,” you whispered with an urgency that almost convinced him. “Remus, can you answer me honestly?”

His body tensed once more as his eyes fluttered open to find yours, reverent. Most parts of him were still screaming at him to run away, to shut up, to do anything but this. His heart seemed to be in charge for the moment, though, and he nodded slowly. Trusting you with his world even as he felt like a traitor in yours.

“All this, today… has it been because you have realised you’re… in love with me?” You seemed to be piecing it together as you said the words out loud, eyes carefully searching his face for his reaction.

Another tear slipped down his cheek, and you quickly caught it with your other thumb, both hands now cradling his face. “I’m so sorry,” he said once more.

“You’re not allowed to be,” you whispered, giving him a half-smile, almost as if you were indulging him in a secret of yours. “Please answer the question?”

It was now or never. “Yes.”

To his utter surprise and deep-seated confusion, the smile on your face grew genuine, settling into the one he always searched for. He almost opened his mouth to question it before he was cut off.

No words can describe the sensations that bloomed in his chest, the butterflies that flitted in his stomach, when you used your hands on his face as leverage to pull him towards you for another kiss.

You kissed him. You kissed him. You were kissing.

His mind was threatening to take off like a rocket and captiulate, but his hands had never been more steady as they circled around your waist, splaying out over the small of your back as he dragged you closer. You sighed against him, smile still evident over your lips, and Remus dared – like the bastard he was – to mirror it. 

You were warm against him, but wholly different than you had been in his dream. This felt distinctly real. And just as right.

When you pulled away, your hands had migrated to the back of his neck and you kept your forehead leaned against his. “Good,” you murmured with your eyes still closed. “Because the feeling is mutual.”

He almost reared his head away from you, but managed to only pull back a few centimetres to stare at you in awe. Remus opened his mouth, but no words came out; he could find none intelligent enough to verbalise how utterly gobsmacked he felt.

You seemed to understand him just as well, going by your breathy laugh. There was still that spark in your eye, now shining brightly in the absence of your worry. Had the worry been for him?

“I know I don’t say this enough, but you really are quite an idiot, aren’t you?” you laughed and he slowly felt his heart start beating again.

“Spent too much time with Sirius and James, clearly,” he muttered, half expecting the joke to land flat and you to remember how disgusting he was. Instead, your laugh intensified and you leaned your body further against his. It emboldened him to ask, “What do you mean the feeling is mutual, dove?”

You let your arms glide further up, crossing behind his neck and over his shoulder, bringing him impossibly closer. “Remus John Lupin,” you whispered sincerely. “I am madly in love with you. Romantically. Genuinely. Any thoughts you have that explain that away are false and you mustn't listen to them. I thought you knew by now that I’m always right.”

Even as the grin involuntarily established itself on his face, his eyes were shining with unshed tears. He looked at your face, truly studied it, and he could feel his mind ever so slowly calm down. “You are.”

“What am I?” You were testing him, and he allowed it wholeheartedly.

“Right,” he confirmed. Albeit a bit more hesitantly, he knew better than not to add, “and… in love with me?”

“Two points to Gryffindor.” You reached up to give his lips a soft peck. It felt so natural, like it was already habit for you. He desperately wanted it to be.

“I’m sorry, I’m still reeling from this, dovey,” he confessed, trying to process everything.

There had never been any judgement to be found in your face. “Which parts are you struggling with the most?” 

Your eyes were full of understanding, your face scrunched up in concentration. Remus indulged himself in an old habit by reaching up with one hand to thumb the furrows away. It made you smile just like he wanted it to, and gave him a minute to think. “I don’t understand how I didn’t get it before now. I don’t understand how or why you put up with me. I don’t understand how to keep all these feelings inside such a small heart.”

Your hands were stroking his back carefully as you considered his words. “Well, firstly I would argue your heart isn’t small at all, though I get what you mean. You’re not meant to keep all the feelings inside, you know? That’s when you get all sputtery and jittery and start avoiding your best friends.” You gave him a pointed look and he almost shied under your glance. “Sharing them before you bubble over is always a good thing. We’ll work on it together. As for why I put up with you; I don’t. There’s nothing to put up with, I just enjoy you like we always have.”

Your eyes had trailed off into the distance as you thought, but you brought them back to him with a small smile as you added the final part. “I don’t know what did make you realise, so I can’t help you much there. All I can say is, sometimes we don’t see what is right in front of us.”

Remus nodded along to your words, feeling peace spreading within in that manner only you could inspire in him. He truly was an idiot, wasn’t he? “How long have you known?” he asked then, curiously.

“About you or me?”

“Both?” His smile was becoming closer to his standard sheepish one, and you seemed to preen at the sight.

You bobbed your head side to side as you considered. “It’s hard to pinpoint an exact date – it wasn’t an overnight discovery you know?” Remus did in fact not know nor relate. “But I realised we were in love, not either one’s feelings. It just sat calmly within me.”

“You mean you didn’t freak out to the extent where all students and professors alike were worried about you?”

He grinned at the small giggle that drew from you as you decidedly said, “No. Definitely not.” You studied him for a minute more. “I think I realised about five months ago, but I didn’t feel any real need to rush anything. It felt less like being given a to-do list and more like being revealed the plot twist in a movie before it happens, if you understand? The two best friends get together in the end, don’t tell anyone.”

He ducked his head at that. While he could not relate, your explanation and experience was so wholeheartedly you that it endeared him to no end. “Does that mean we should just ignore it for five more months or…?” His grin turned cheeky as you lightly swatted his shoulder.

“Nah,” you chuckled. “I reckon we’ve waited long enough, yeah?”

He sighed with a smile. “Yeah.”

You both leaned forward at the same time, as if to seal the deal with a kiss. Remus could feel it like electricity in the tips of his fingers, and he understood what you meant about knowing. Now that he was no longer in a constant state of panic, he felt incredibly calm about the whole ordeal.

Or maybe that’s just how he feels around you.

“Should I ask you formally to be my girlfriend, or are we just skipping straight to marriage?” he whispered against your lips.

Remus felt almost wolfish when you barked a loud laugh, throwing your head back and tightening your hold on him instinctively. “I think girlfriend’s enough for now, yeah cariad?”

“If you insist.” He kissed you through his grin, realising that this was all he wanted to do now.

Like he had so many times before, he tightened his arms around your waist and twirled you around in a few circles, legs flying out behind you. Except this time, your giggles were not hidden in his neck but pressed against his lips, and he tried to capture as many kisses as possible while he spun you.

When you landed with a breathless giggle, he kept one arm firmly around your waist as the two of you slowly made your way back to the Gryffindor common room. He wondered if maybe he could grab some blankets and bring you up to the Astronomy Tower so you could be alone without his friends’ meddling. Yet, he wanted to see them as well, ready to volley back any quips about “took you long enough” and “I fucking called it”. Plus, you argued that you should prove that he was in fact alive and sane.

When he walked the halls back to the Gryffindor common room with your body against his, everything felt right. When you entered together, and everyone read what had happened written clearly across your faces, resorting to their usual hoots and hollers, arguably louder than ever before, it never stopped feeling right. 

Remus being Remus, flushed deeply and averted his gaze, as he would continue doing under any uncalled for attention – but your arms squeezing him around the middle brought him right back down and your kiss to his shoulder soothed the burn of their gazes.

“What’s my gift then?” Sirius later asked salaciously as he eyed you two up and down where you cuddled together right back in the same chair, as if nothing changed. Maybe nothing really did.

You grinned widely and cleared your throat. “I honourably present to you,” you said and opened your arms towards Remus with a flourish. “A Moony who is no longer mooning.”

The little group erupted in even more cheers, celebrating the massive feat of taming their brooding boy. Remus couldn’t help but laugh along, even at his own expense. His cheeks were red but it was equally due to the exertion of laughing as it was a tinge of embarrassment. When he hid his face into the crook of your neck again, he didn’t feel nearly as guilty when he pressed a few kisses to the bare skin he found there – even less so when you melted against him with a sigh.

It felt as if a permanent smile had been sown onto his face where he sat, more content than he believed he had been while inside this castle.

Despite Remus Lupin’s disdain for public displays of affection, he had held you publicly many times before this. They all paled in comparison to the feeling of you in his arms now. 

It had always been significant to him in its casualty, just as you have always been significant to him long before he had the mind to put the feeling into words. He will always treasure every moment of your existence in his orbit. Yet the way you melted into his skin now, growing roots in each one of his aching bones – no, nothing could compare to it.

Yes, Remus Lupin ailed from public displays of affection. But you were his cure.

[cassie48]

𝓗𝓘𝓢 𝓔𝓜𝓟𝓡𝓔𝓢𝓢

𝖣𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗁 𝗏𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 anakin 𝗑 𝖿𝖾𝗆 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ට

You were his prised possession. The very reason he lived. When he first met you on Tatooine as a boy he decided then and there, thatyou’d be his.

When he went back years later to seek out his mother, he met you again. 𝗜𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝗳𝗮𝗶𝘁𝗵, he had decided. So he took you with him, despite what others thought.

Keeping you and him a secret was by far the hardest thing he had ever done. He was a very possessive man, and when anyone 𝗱𝗮𝗿𝗲𝗱 flirt with you, it would take everything in him not to kill them then and there.

Obi-wan was aware of your relationship with Anakin and knew it wasn’t just some childhood nostalgic friendship. He knew, 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘄𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴. So when he went to Mustafar to stop him, he brought you.

You, scared and confused out of your mind, stayed on the ship until he and Obi-wan had finished fighting. When your heard the silence you ran out spotting him.

“Ani?” You wept tears falling down your tanned cheeks.

“Sweetheart what are you doing here?” He asked pulling your smaller body into his and wrapping his big arms around your little waist.

“Obi-wan brought me. W-Where is he” She cried clinging onto him.

“He had betrayed us. He’s to weak to understand my power. I have defeated the emperor, I know how the power to rule” he smiled menacingly placing your little head in his hands.

“Y-You’re gonna rule the galaxy?” You asked shocked.

“Me and you, side by side. I can finally treat you like the queen you are. I would never let anything or anyone hurt you. Do you understand sweetheart?” He said pulling you closer to him, if it were at all possible.

You nodded slowly taking in the information. “Y-You’d never hurt anyone, right Ani?” You asked innocently, leaning your head on his chest, the days events slightly tiring you out as your eyes grew heavy.

“Princess, the only time I’d ever hurt anyone is if they were hurting you. You understand that’s why’d I’d do it right?” He lied, knowing you’d believe him. He had to, you belonged next to him.

“I understand ani” you barely whispered, as you leant your body weight against him, feeling sleep wash over you.

“You must be so tired sweetheart, let’s go back to the ship, you need rest” he lovingly told you, but you were barely conscious at this stage. He picked you up  bridal style and you leant your head on his shoulder drifting off.

⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ට

Here you were, one month later since that night. Anakin was right, he took care of you, treated you like a princess. You and hun ruled the galaxy, the emperor and his empress.

You were sat in his lap, your little head leaning against his chest as he explained his orders to his men in front of him.

It wasn’t unusual for you to be sitting on his lap while he worked, he told you it calmed him down.

As you leant your head on his big chest, you tried your best not to let your eyes close, feeling tiredness come over you.

You let your eyes wander around the room, trying to keep them open. You looked to the right, your body freezing when you saw a man, one of Anakins me staring at you, with a disgusting smirk on his face.

You didn’t know what to do, your body didn’t move an inch. Anakin frowned feeling the nerves radiating off of you.

He leant down and placed his hand over your face, before asking “what’s wrong baby?” With a deeply concerned expression.

“He’s staring at me ani…I don’t like it!” You whispered burying your small face in his chest to escape the man’s stare. Tears slowly fell down your cheeks.

All the men stopped talking and looked towards the two of you. They were waiting for the emperor to kill or torture someone. They had been warned their first day

Anakin looked up, glaring at the man with a look that cannot be explained. He picked you up, placing your head away from the men.

“If any of you leave this room before I get back I will kill you all” he said simply before turning and walking back to your shared headquarters.

Once arriving he placed you down into your big bed, leaning down and giving you a sweet kiss.

You willed your tears and looked up at him. “I’m sorry Ani I don’t know why I’m so emotional lately” you whispered staring at his hand you were holding.

“I think I know sweetheart but we’ll discuss it in the morning. Try to sleep and I’ll be back in a little while” he told you as he went to leave.

You gripped his hand that you had been holding, your big doe eyes looking up to his own dark ones

“Y-Your not gonna do something bad are you ani?” You whispered with a slight pout on your lips.

Anakij smirked at you innocent look. “I’m only gonna have a stern word with the men baby” he told you, tucking you into bed and kissing your forehead tenderly.

You nodded before sleep came over you, and you closed your eyes.

Anakin smiled contently before leaving the room, his smile turning to a glare as he made his way back to the meeting room.

When arriving he saw all his men standing with an extremely nervous look on their faces, two men holding the man who was looking at you earlier.

Anakin walked directly over to the men with a knife in his hand, plunging it into his chest.

“What did u tell you about looking at my wife. She’s mine!” He yelled out, his face scrunched up in anger.

Eventuallu he pulled out the knife from the man’s now lifeless body, letting it drop to the floor.

Anakin looked at the two guards near him.

“Clean up this mess. Let all of you see this as a warning, of what will happen to you if you so much as look at your empress” he spat, with pure rage in his tone.

He made his way back to your headquarters, changing into clothes without blood. He then climbed into bed with you.

“Ani? Is that you?” Your soft angelic voice said, as you turned over rubbing your eyes.

“Yeah it’s me baby, go back to sleep you tired yourself out today” Anakin said his hands going about both sides of your waist before pulling you up a little into his embrace.

You hummed burying your face into his neck

“Did you have a talk with the mean man” You asked, your voice laced with a little fear.

Anakin noticed this and frowned.

“Baby, you know I would have never let him hurt you. He’s dealt with, this won’t happen again” he softly told you, pulling you in closer trying to ease your worries.

“Ok ani” you said before you drifted back off to sleep, your mind now at ease.

⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ට

𝗔:𝗡:

𝗶 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗸 𝗶𝗺 𝗴𝗼𝗻𝗻𝗮 𝗱𝗼 𝗮 𝗽𝘁 𝟮 𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀!!

[inkinflux]

Lakefront Liaison

Jayce Talis x gn!Reader (& kinda Steb x Reader if you choose to interpret it that way I guess?) | 2.6K | SFW (tw: half-hearted suicide attempt) You must learn how to move on after Jayce's death. 🚫 I DO NOT CONSENT TO MY WORK BEING USED TO TRAIN AI 🚫  

The lake was pink as it reflected the hues of the clouds above. Small flames danced on the surface, doubled by the water’s mirror. Lily pads bumped against your calves at each subtle movement, the smell of water lilies mingling with the scent of melting candle wax.

Across the way, a drooping willow’s arms skimmed the water, dancing in the calm breeze. Your mind filled in the gaps of the shadows, inventing a familiar form standing under the canopy, his face turned away.

You squeezed your eyes shut, heart tugged by a heavy weight. Underneath your eyelids the familiar sting welled, the pain around your raw eyes getting too much a bear.

A grounding hand came to rest upon your shoulder, giving a light squeeze. You turned, wiping your face, earning a saddened look from Caitlyn.

The stiff fabric of her eye patch crinkled as her brow furrowed, and you could tell her seeing you like this made it very difficult not to join in your crying.

“We’re going to grab a drink, since the service is over,” she told you gently. “Come with us.”

You shook your head, turning back to the water filled with floating candles, wanting to join them in their suspended peace.

“(Y/n),” Caitlyn stepped down next to you. Instinctively, you reached out to hold her forearms, steadying her to prevent her from slipping against the mossy stone underfoot. Doing so unfortunately brought you face to face once more, nowhere to run. “I know the easiest thing right now is to shut out the world. Trust me, being alone is the worst thing you can do to yourself.”

You averted your gaze, catching Vi lingering at the top of the stairs, the flames on the water reflected in her glassy eyes.

“I don’t want to have to talk about how I’m feeling,” you said. “I can’t describe it, and it would be painful to try.”

“No talking. Understood.” Cait began up the stairs, tugging you along. “Keeping in the company of those who care about you is enough.”

Vi wrapped an arm around your shoulders as you passed. The two had somewhat adopted you in the wake of all the chaos, keeping you company despite every refusal, waking you up at the appropriate time to drag you out to breakfast and bringing you dinner when you inevitably forgot to eat again.

They both wore their scars on their sleeve as they sat in the booth across from you. Spilling thoughts and feelings over quickly emptying drinks, talking through the difficult things in soft, solemn voices, holding hands all the while. You were glad you had them, and you were glad they had each other, but their support wouldn’t fill the empty seat beside you.

The way Cait traced the white lines on Vi’s face, the way Vi placed tender kisses to Cait’s knuckles, it all reminded you of what you had lost. What you would never hope to find again.

Anger had already passed, that stage of grief marked by broken furniture and slashed canvases that had littered your apartment, the only evidence remaining being a few dents in the walls and floors. You were nowhere near acceptance yet, and you doubted you’d ever get there, standing stagnant at the station of despair.

Everything felt heavy, even more so once you’d knocked back a couple drinks.

“You know, whenever he went away on his travels, he’d always bring back trinkets,” Caitlyn reminisced, leaning against Vi’s side. “I thought it was the most exciting thing. A carved stone from a village in the Shurima deserts. Dried plants from some deep forest in Valoran.” Cait smiled to herself. “I used to think he was the coolest person in all of Runeterra.”

Your soul sunk just a little further. You’d been so selfish in your mourning, barely able to rally the energy to check in on everyone else who had loved him. Ximena had wept enough to fill the lake for a second time over, and all you’d managed to offer was a shoulder to cry on. No comforting words, no soothing reassurances.

To think, if life had gone a different way, you might have become her daughter-in-law.

You dropped your face into your hands, shoulders shaking as the guilt overwhelmed you. Caitlyn and Vi grew quiet, unsure if their shared stories were helping or hurting.

“(Y/n),” Vi cautiously came over and slid next to you, warm arms holding you tightly. “Hey. It’s okay.”

Cait gave her a sharp look across the table and she grimaced, giving a shrug in response. They’d tried so hard to accommodate you, giving you space to grieve but not letting you drift so far out to sea that you risked losing yourself. It was a delicate balance, especially at a time when they were mourning themselves. But they had each other for support, and without Jayce, you had no one.

Not only did you have to carry the pain of a missing heart, but at each turn you found hatred and anger lobbed against your parted friend. The blame had been laid squarely at Viktor’s grave, for which there was no physical embodiment. No monuments carved in stone, his name stricken from every Piltover Academy record, as if he had never existed at all.

To know he was being regaled as a hero only as a direct opposition to his partner would have killed Jayce. No matter how much you fought the narrative, it had already been woven in the tapestry of history, the loose threads burned and sealed.

And that cruel, twisted history had happened all without you.

“Thanks for inviting me out,” you announced, “but I think I’ll go home now.”

Vi and Cait hadn’t fought you on it. They’d offered to walk you home, but you’d declined, claiming the quiet would be good for you.

The cobblestone path swirled beneath you in your tipsy state, the night crisp and hinting at an incoming autumn. You hadn’t consciously thought about where you were going, but your feet led you back to the lakeshore.

A majority of the candles had been snuffed out, the candles burned to their ends. You wobbled as you descended the stairs into the dark water, its refreshing cold welcoming you into its hold.

Lily pads darted away from the movement, water lilies bending against the small waves. The slick rocks on the lake’s bottom kept making you slip, water splashing into your face as you surged forward, deeper.

Your clothes dragged you down, heavy and weightless at the same time. Soon, you could no longer reach the bottom with your toes, and you began to wade with outstretched arms and kicking legs. You swam with effort to the center of the black lake, amongst the few candles that continued to flicker against the encroaching night.

It was there that you decided to turn onto your back, floating and gazing up at the clear, starry night sky. No matter how you tried to burn it from your memory, it would always serve to remind you of that day when the sky turned into roiling waves of agony. Before it was all blown away in an instant, with a finality you had known was the last moment of Jayce’s life.

The pain tore at you like clawing hands reaching from the bottom of the lake. You cried, tears slipping down the sides of your face, into the calling void below.

You closed your eyes, replaying warm memories as you stopped treading the water, allowing the weight of everything that had transpired to tug you down as low as you felt.

When you opened them again, you could see the distorted stars above, and the black circles of the floating candles, some surrounded by a small sliver of dancing light.

You sunk further and further, until your back hit the stones, and the surface was a slash of barely visible sky. The black silhouettes of small fishes travelled across your vision, darting around the spots of colour that started to sway in their own current, replacing the oxygen that was leaving your body.

With your body cradled by the soft aquatic plants, you thought you could fall peacefully asleep. You drifted subtly, until you were beneath the weeping willow. It gazed down at you with disappointment, its limps tracing the surface, beckoning you to return.

Your lungs burned, your pulse becoming a thundering drum in your ears as you gritted your teeth against the urges of self preservation.

Your limbs started to feel prickly, the tips of your fingers twitching up, wanting to be taken in the willow's arms.

A shadow peered over the edge, watching you now. You blinked up at it, willing the phantom away, to leave you alone in your water-logged grief. But no matter how you tried, your chest kept floating up, your heart less of the heavy stone than you thought it was.

When you burst against the surface tension of the water, the first breath felt like a knife against your throat. You coughed, sputtered, splashing the pond scum away.

“It’s late for a swim.”

You glared up at the uninvited guest. His cheeks flared as he looked down upon you, his enforcer beret slightly askew.

“I could have you arrested for that.”

You balked. “For utilizing a public space?”

The enforcer gave you an incredulous look. “For public indecency in the form of a dead body.”

He extended a hand. You frowned at it.

“Come, now,” his voice was so quiet, like he wasn’t accustomed to using it. “My shift ended ten minutes ago, and I’m in no mood to get in there to heave you out.”

“If your shift’s already ended, why don’t you leave me be?”

He huffed a sigh, rescinding his extended arm. “You’re right. There’s no use fighting.”

First, he rid his beret. Then, he unbuttoned his coat, shirking it off onto the grass. His shoes were the last thing he took off before he slid into the water beside you, still in his trousers and undershirt, re-emerging to shake the water from his face.

You starred daggers at him. “Well now I don’t want to stay. I can’t brood with you here.”

The enforcer smirked, startling you with a splash of water in the face.

“Hey!”

“You weren’t afraid of letting the innocent civilians of Piltover wake up to see your bloated corpse. Why does it matter if I’m here now?”

You rolled your eyes, drifting to the lip of the pavement, hauling yourself with your heavy clothes up and onto the edge.

The enforcer followed, sitting with a wet thwap beside you, dripping lake water in a steady beat that broke up the silence now between you.

It was a while before he said, “You’re Kiramman’s friend. I’ve seen you around.”

You nodded, refusing to meet his eye as you stared down, kicking your feet against the water, back and forth in a soothing repetition.

“You were in a relationship with Councilor Talis.”

Your movements stilled.

“Yeah.”

The enforcer pushed a webbed hand into your vision. You glanced up at him, his pale eyes glowing in the moonlight. “I’m Steb.”

You took his wet hand, shaking. “(Y/n).”

He gave you a gentle smile, then leaned back on his hands, peering up at the sky.

“It’s strange. For all the friends I lost that day, I’ve made many more as a consequence.”

A dragonfly landed on your knee, and he stared at it, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“Were you there?” You asked, watching the dragonfly’s wings still as it rested on you.

“Yes,” he said, picking up his beret and beginning to circle the crest with his thumb.

“I’m sorry,” you told him, for all he had been through, and for needing to deal with you. Once again, guilt nipped at your heels. “I just… don’t know how to be. It feels like the world keeps spinning, and people are starting to get on with their lives again, but I can’t.”

“I understand,” he told you, watching as the dragonfly took off, hovering close to your face without you noticing before it took off again.

The damp clothing pressed close to your skin was starting to bring the cold with it, and the sunken smell of lake water was becoming less pleasant with each passing second.

Steb moved to get to his feet, but your incoming words stilled him.

“He was reckless.”

You tugged at the grass beside you, tearing the blades of chlorophyll methodically.

“He never cared whenever he got hurt. Always racing off to protect everyone else. Even when it put him at risk, he’d do what he knew was right, no matter the cost.”

Steb settled in beside you, mirroring you grass-picking, though his movements were a lot slower and more relaxed than your anxious ripping.

“I wish he was here so I could scream at him for being so stupid. I wish I-” you choked up, your vision blurred with tears, “I wish he could be here to take responsibility for the pain he’s causing me.”

Words that had felt set in amber in the presence of your friends melted onto your tongue in the company of a kind stranger. It felt so liberating to unbury them from your chest.

“To die is the greatest betrayal of all,” Steb said, pointedly.

You rubbed your face, sniffling. “I get it. I was being selfish.”

“Yes,” he replied, getting to his feet. “Don’t feel bad about it. Dying is easy. That’s why it’s so often done.”

You accepted his arm this time, pulling you up out of your sorrow. Steb was more solid than his slender figure implied. Short fins ran down his arms, twitching as the cool breeze blew against his wet skin.

“Go home. You stink.”

“So do you,” you countered.

Steb raised a brow. “Now, who’s fault is that? I did just have my uniform starched, you know.”

Your lips quirked upwards. It felt like turning your back on a long, empty corridor towards a light.

“There’s a dry cleaner slash café on my street.” You hadn’t even thought about what that sentence implied before it left your mouth.

Steb tilted his head, reading the internal war plain on your face.

“You’ll pay?” Was all he asked.

You nodded, shoving away the guilt that threatened to bubble back up to the surface. “Sure.”

Steb picked up his relatively dry jacket and beret, tying the laces of his shoes together and throwing them over his shoulder.

“It’s not a date,” you clarified awkwardly.

Steb shrugged. “I didn’t interpret it as such.”

“Cool.”

You lingered there, hands holding your elbows, unsure what to say next.

“It was nice to meet,” Steb spoke into the awkward tension, seemingly immune to it in his stoicism, “despite the circumstances.”

“Yeah.” You didn’t know what else could be said.

“Tomorrow?” Steb checked.

“Yes.”

“8am works for me.”

“Okay. Eight.”

Steb gave a concise nod, then turned on his heel and left.

You blew out a breath, wide-eyed in your realization that this is what living on without Jayce meant. It meant making plans to meet with strangers and build new friendships. It meant finding ways to fill the days with activities. It was what Cait and Vi had been trying so desperately to encourage you to do.

The grief still sat patiently at the bottom of your stomach, but as least you knew you weren’t tied to it. Even if it was tiring to continue treading water, there was someone at the surface to keep you company as you did.

And he was very happy indeed to have his uniform in perfect order the following day, his cheeks ruffling in delight as he sipped his coffee and read the morning paper by your side.

[h0ll0wt0wn]

My first Post

There once was a woman whose body was cursed. If she dare bear a child, it will die before its birth. Through madness he crept, the monster of dark, he promised a child to ease the woman's heart. A daughter at last, she wept with joy, not knowing at once, she was just his toy.

____________________________________________________________

This was my first post on the first blog. An early stage traditional art drawing of Lazari Lucias Hollow.

Well... back then she was still just regular ol Lazari to me. I had a back and forwarth with a friend as to how a modern Lazari should look, taking inspiration from the wonderful Ruby Gloom

which is something im glad other artists like @spiderprincess-suffet

managed to also implement into her own Lazaris (For the love of Zalgo go check out her art they're masterpieces) and also taking some light inspiration from halloween and goth pop aesthetics. Something I figured would mesh well with the world of creepypasta

I also wanted to implement a pinch of Alice in wonderland in there, so later we decided to give her a Bowtie and fancy looking shoes for a little girl. In a way she is wandering into a very off putting wonderland.

This story will be a Creepypasta Fairy tale after all.

And yeah! This is something I kinda wanna do for when I move the old posts over, adding a creators commentary esque thing for the designs. That way I can offer something new while I flood the tags with reposts of mine and @viledictorian old art.

Stay tuned for more!

[haenypages]

A Heart Of Steel

Assassin! Lucerys Velaryon x Targaryen! Reader

Summary: Before the incident, Lucerys and the youngest daughter of Viserys & Alicent were secretly dating. Now he has come to seek revenge upon her, thinking she was the cause of his near death.

Wordcount: 2.5k

Warnings: blood, fluff, angst, minor spoilers of Aegon & Aemond in S2 based on the book

Reader's POV

It was all a misunderstanding. I did not expose nor betray Lucerys' location to Aemond. I have no notion of how he ended up alive and the fact that he joined an assassin guild to learn the ways of killing just to take avenge for himself.

I wept for him everyday thinking that he was dead in the hands of my brother, or rather his dragon until this very moment, after nearly one year in which The Dance of the Dragons has entered into an intense stage.

This is definitely not the Lucerys Velaryon I've known. The sweet dragon prince as if straight out of the folk tales was gone. It was the hour of the wolf. I'm heading back to my bedchamber in the Red Keep when I saw a figure in a shadowy corner, another figure that I reckoned a sentinel lying on the bloodstained floor, motionless. Dead.

The hooded figure slowly approached from the shadow and abruptly I gaped in disbelief, not trusting the face I saw under the hood. "Luke." I whispered, knowing him from his scent and form although his gait has changed from stiff to seemingly nonchalant.

I wanted to run to him, embrace him until I saw a glint of iron in one hand and an impassive face. "What are you doing here?" I involuntarily backed a step. Silence. No response. His slow creeping started to turn into a walk. That's when my mind tells me to flee, so I did what it's told.

"I'm going to kill you, dārilaros (princess)!" he said without preamble. He ran after me. "What why- I don't understand!" Panting heavily, trying to find anyone in the hallway for help while trying to further the gap between Luke. "You knew exactly why! You'd told Aemond that I'm at Storm's End."

Luke acquired a throwing knife from the inside of his boots. It whistled past me, making a gash at my arm, blood trickled from it. I resorted to yelling since there was no one I could see, my sprint slowed gradually and he was increasing.

He's closing our gap! I'm about to veer around another corridor until I feel a hand clasping around my wrist firmly and another clamping over my mouth. My screams were muffled. Without thinking, I bit into the hand that covers my mouth, drawing droplets of blood.

The hand let go, the dagger releasing an audible clunk when it hits the stone floor. Lucerys hissed in frustration. The sound has drawn its attention. Voices! Footsteps! Someone is coming this way!

"HEL-" Lucerys pushed me against the wall, causing me a concussion before I could fully utter the words. Stars were forming. My head, shoulders, and back were in agony. The knife was back in his hands and immediately at my throat, drawing a thin line of blood. I struggled feebly in his grip, feeling helpless. "Please Luke, this is a mistake." I looked into his eyes one last time before the world around me went black.

Luke's POV

She slumped into me after she passed out. I carried the unconscious y/n away with me before the night patrol could investigate what had happened. For the present, they had interrupted my attempt at assassination. I searched for her chamber that we had our fun times together in the past. Seven be damned! Stop dwelling on those memories!

Winding through the familiar corridors, I finally found the quarter I am looking for. I unlatched the door with my nimble fingers, hinges creaking. After I was certain that the door was shut securely, I placed her on the bed. Binding her wrists together at one of the bedposts with hempen ropes and gagging her mouth.

I have made the decision of interrogating her when she's awake, giving her a chance. My current self may be ruthless, but there is still a tidbit of kindness in me that has been cultivated by my family, the family that thought I was dead and mourned for me.

I went to her bookshelf straight away, knowing well this is where her mind often wanders into, as well as mine. She was always intrigued by the stories of the dragonlords of Valyria before the Doom.

She once requested that I read to her more frequently from books and scrolls because she enjoys my Valyrian accent, therefore I did mostly each day just to lull her to sleep with my soothing voice. Unfortunately, that is not happening again. She broke my heart.

I skimmed through the pages, missing the smell of papers and inks. Books are barely seen in the assassin guild since weapons were the only thing we would require. After some more skimming, the groaning from the bed eventually distracted my attention. Immediately, I put the book down on the table. Walking towards her, dagger poised.

She slowly opened her eyes, examining the wounds on her throat and arm as she attempted to break free of the binding before her eyes landed upon mine. For a moment she froze like a frightened animal. My tutor taught me not to trust anyone. Told me that expressions could be a farce for sympathy. So I did not fall for that. But her feelings somehow look true to me.

"Good, you're awake. And no screaming." I took the gag off her and then sat down on the bed beside her. Knife dangerously close to her cheeks, then tracing her cheekbones with an air of disinterest as possible. She gulped.

"So tell me, how does Aemond know of my whereabouts? You're the only Green who knew I'm heading for Storm's End trying to make an alliance on my mother's behalf." I intoned, eyebrows furrowed. She began stammering for a second and eventually calmed down a little. "It was Aemond. Before I had the opportunity to take the parchment from the raven, he took it first." I frowned at her, she averted her gaze, looking at her lap and fidgeting with her fingers. "I should have locked the door. I never thought he'd sneak into my room. I'm so sorry." My heart softened without my mind's consent.

I am still hesitating about the things she confessed to me. It was just words. How could I trust mere words? At the mention of Aemond, my uncertainty was briefly replaced by an inevitable rage. I'd heard that he's come back from the raids at the Riverlands to continue his rule as regent. It was said that after the battle of Rook's Rest, following Aegon's disappearance, Aemond was named as regent of the Seven Kingdoms.

"I'll deal with you later when I finish that kinslayer." I announced, walking to the door. At the same time, I unsheathed the sword at my hip, checking the sharpness. I nodded with satisfaction.

"You can't just leave me here being tied up! You can't find Aemond without my guidance anyways." She pleaded. I stopped abruptly, knowing it was true. I needed her guidance to seek Aemond before dawn. I rolled my eyes and went back to her, loosened the ropes to the bedpost, and gripped both of her wrists, pushing her along as a signal to stride in front of me. Then we were out of the chamber.

Reader's POV

Whenever I walked slowly, Lucerys would thrust the tip of his blade into my back. I winced, not believing he would truly do this to me. I did not hesitate to go to the throne room first. Aemond may be sleeping in his bedchamber at this hour, but he's infatuated with the Iron Throne lately. Luke would stay alert and call for a halt to hide whenever he senses someone was around.

I led him down a series of spiral stairs, out of the holdfast, through a bridge, walking by courtyards, and eventually reaching the building in which the throne room was situated. "There's two sentinels in there guarding the hallway, I hope you're ready." I turned to look at him, expecting to see an anxious face. But instead, he looks prepared for the upcoming predicament. The doors were ajar so we sneaked into it.

Before the guards could take out their swords from the scabbards, Luke hurled a throwing knife into one of them. Hitting him in the ribs. The other one rushed to Luke, their blades collided together making sparks. After a few more exchanges, Luke found a chink in his armour and strike hard and fast. The guard collapsed.

"What is all the commotion?" The double doors to the throne room flew open, revealing my uncle Gwayne Hightower and the other kingsguards. How can Lucerys defeat them! He's doomed. "Uncle!" Walking to him but Lucerys pulled me back, placing me right in front of him while the sword he was holding raised to my throat defensively making me his hostage. Swords were drawn out.

"Sheathe the steel or I'll kill her." Luke said. They all gave each other apprehensive glances before taking a few steps back. But not my uncle who stood at the doorway. "Ah, aren't you Rhaenyra's boy? This is hardly an act of reverence for the princess, lad." The two of them stare intensely at each other until Luke breaks the staring contest. "It would please me if I could see the regent." For my sake, my uncle moved from his spot at the doorway and led us into the room with a high ceiling.

Luke's POV

Aemond was sitting upon the throne, legs dangled from one of its arms. A few of the council members were there discussing important matters with him. The discussion stopped when we arrived. My presence seemed to leave Aemond totally dumbstruck. Good.

"Nephew, did the Seven send you back to me? You should put that pointy thing away from my sister by the way." y/n casted me a side eye. Aemond grinned a mirthless grin, there was no true joy in it. "The gods have sent me back for vengeance, uncle." I said with an emotionless mien. "Ah yes, I hope the skills you've been honing were worthy of a vengeance. How can I assist you, my dear nephew?" Obviously teasing about my skills in arms.

"I demand a court of swords. A fight to the death." Everybody in the room tensed. "What." Aemond's face twitched. y/n shifted in my grasp uncomfortably. "You and me. No one else. If I kill you, you'll die. If you kill me, you'll get y/n." Making my point clear. Aemond stood up from his seat and started pacing back and forth, pretending to be considering my request. He stopped his pacing. "Deal." His head snapped to me, giving me a murderous look.

While he slowly walks down from the dais, away from his precious throne, one of the kingsguard escorted y/n away from me. She gave me a tight squeeze of my hand before I let go of her wrists, unsure what it meant. Good luck? Aemond is too good for you? The others walked away from the center, making space for the fight. We came face to face at the center, staring at each other from opposite sides.

"Any last words?" The regent chuckled. "Go to seven hells." I replied. I heard y/n coughed. Within a dozen heartbeats, Aemond's sword came down from above. I blocked the overhead strike that will likely deeply injure me if I didn't deflect it. After a series of attacks, Aemond scowled. Not expecting that I'm still standing. Smiling, a new surge of energy coursed through my body. I fight my way for vengeance.

Reader's POV

I stand in one corner, witnessing the scene unfolding before me. One is my brother. One is my lover. I didn't want to lose either of them. Lucerys seems to be under control, attacking and counterattacking the whole time. He suddenly slipped into Aemond's guard and a thin line formed at my brother's thigh. Blood dripped from it.

Brother looked up from his injured thigh and started bombarding a whirlwind of attacks toward Luke. Anger rose within him. Luke tried to parry all the blows but one had slashed him across his shoulder, causing him to stagger. Aemond continued his furious assaults without giving Luke a moment of respite. I can see the energy that seems to course through him was gradually seeping away.

Before he can regain his previous confidence, Aemond sliced another cut at his sword arm. He swung his sword desperately at Aemond, trying to do some damage to my brother to no avail. His sword arm was injured. He can't fight. He's faltering. I need to do something.

My brother raised his sword, ready to strike diagonally at Luke. For a second, Luke gripped his sword two-handed, trying to heft it. It lifted, but I know that it won't make it in time to deflect the upcoming blow. I am aware of the amount of force Aemond is building up for that specific attack.

Before the sword landed upon Luke, I hurtled myself towards the fighting ground. I heard my uncle yelling. And then the kingsguards and councilors. My back facing Aemond, the blade came down from above and slashed a long cut across my back. I dropped to one knee and yelped.

Three wounds in one night. Given by two people I love. The boys' eyes widened at the sight. The fighting ceased, Aemond was transfixed by the affliction he caused upon me. "Please, I beg both of you to end this feud." I said. Elsewhere I heard my uncle ordering someone to summon a maester.

The once sweet boy came to me, swords trailing behind him. He dropped to the floor beside me, putting his sword down and arms wrapping around me. "Why?" He said, his eyes brimming with tears, but he forced it not to pour out. "Se ra gaoman syt jorrāelagon (The things I do for love)" I beamed weakly.

Then tears fell from his face, dropping into mine. He pressed his forehead against mine. His curly hair prickled me, but I didn't care much about that. I miss his hugs. I can feel the wetness soaking my back. I can get a whiff of the metallic tang of blood. I am exhausted. I fell asleep in the arms of Lucerys Velaryon.

Epilogue (Reader's POV)

I opened my eyes groggily, looking around my bedchamber. Sunlight filtered through the window filling the room with warmth. Luke sat on the bed. I used my elbow to raise myself into a sitting position, he gave me some assistance. I can feel the bandages wrapped around my torso, probably done by the maester.

We stared at each other for a long moment before he smiled. He smiled! Such a wondrous thing! After that, he gave me a gentle peck on the lips, which I did not expect. A faint blush materialized on my cheeks and he indulged in that.

He told me of Arrax's sacrifice, how he was rescued by a fisher family from the shore, his life after he joined the assassin guild, and how he didn't reacquaint himself with his family and watched them from afar whenever he was at Dragonstone. He does love his family. I listened to him intently.

He told me that he would leave me soon, that this is no place for an assassin. "We could fake my death. I want to be with you, away from war and court intrigues. Kill me." I demanded. Lucerys smirked.

[dionysia-ta-astika]

LARPing

I was accused of LARPing again. I get accused of LARPing, and of hubris, by people who see that I don't worship the gods properly, so I must not take them seriously. I am told that I have not been initiated. That the gods will strike me down, and put me in my place and then I'll be sorry. And I was sorry. I wept.

You kicked down the door with a big box of costumes, painted green with gold clasps. And you sat atop it with a winning smile. You asked me, “What shall we play? “Let's play pirates, and ride on the high seas, and turn the sailors into dolphins. “Let's play wizards, knights and castles. Grab your sword, and your armor, and your book of spells, and we'll save a princess from a dragon. “Let's slay Medusa, like you did once when you were seven, using your fairy princess wand as a sword, swinging it by the star until it broke. “You were Perseus, then. You climbed on Pegasus' back, and he took you to Olympus, where we, your siblings, waited for you.”

I asked, “Why wasn't I struck down like Bellerophon?”

And you said, “There's a big difference between being invited, and kicking down the door claiming you deserve to be there.”

I look at the box and I say, “I want to play Shaman.”

I know how problematic that is. I know that shamans are spiritual leaders from Siberia I know how insulting it is for a colonizer like me to imitate Native Americans as a childish game, Dressing up in fur and feathers like a bad Halloween costume And listening to New Agey "tribal" music While I dance around an altar that I built out of feathers and rocks and other natural talismans I'd collected and little figures of deer and elephants and leopard-print scarves spread under a fake plastic campfire that burned in the center of it all.

But I remember how it felt. It felt powerful. It felt ancient.

You smile and say, “It was powerful, and it was ancient. “You were not imitating any real indigenous rituals, except to burn sage and call it "smudging." “Everything else was your own. It was your ritual. A child, reaching back, back through the mists of time “To find the oldest ritual in the book. “Before there was theatre, there was LARPing. “Before there was writing, there was dance.”

And I said, “Lord of Dappled Pelts, give me that feeling back.” You open the box. Inside are fawnskins and leopard skins, feathers, bones, animal skulls, Rough-hewn masks, with empty staring eyes, as primeval as the soil. You put a horned mask on my face, and dress me in furs, and braid feathers into my hair and put a necklace of bones around my neck that rattles with every step. Before there was theater, there was LARPing. There was the shaman, in their animal mask, behaving as the animal does, dancing round and round the ritual fire until they don't know the difference between man and beast, real and unreal, day and night. And you are there, where you've always been, in the dance. Casting the illusion over our eyes. The mask is a glamour, the stage, a farce. Storytelling itself, an enchantment cast over an audience as they watch and listen, enraptured, fully believing what they feel and see. It is old magic. I found my gods by LARPing. I put on a white sheet, like a makeshift peplos, and made an olive crown out of pipe cleaners and construction paper and gold glitter and I drank nothing but white grape juice, the blood of the vine, and pretended it was ambrosia, and it was. I threw my paper leaves and thought the gods were listening, and they were. Back then, I didn't ask whether they were real or not, or whether what I was doing was historically accurate or not, or whether I was guilty of hubris for pretending that I, too, was a god. You and I dance around our ritual fire decorated with stones, and feathers, and figurines grapevines, pinecones, and phallic objects and other fetishes, wearing our pelts and our animal masks. I lose my name, my face, my gender. I am made and unmade. In the primeval woods, in a time before the dawn of civilization, industry, writing, art, theatre religion, liturgy, sacrifice, humanity itself, we were LARPing.

[checkoutmybookshelf]

Ok, it's no surprise that I deeply enjoy Much Ado About Nothing as a play (and there are some truly delightful film and filmed staged productions), and there's a lot of talk about the scene between Beatrice and Benedick after Hero and Claudio's aborted wedding (Act IV, scene i).

What I don't see a lot of though, is how Benedick literally accidentally talks Beatrice into asking him to kill Claudio.

Yeah, Beatrice didn't walk into that scene ready to ask BENEDICK to make this right. Let's walk through the lesser-quoted lines from this scene.

We all know the iconic, "Lady Beatrice, have you wept all this while," but then we get this little exchange:

Benedick. Surely I do believe your fair cousin is wronged. Beatrice. Ah, how much might the man deserve of me that would right her! Benedick. Is there any way to show such friendship? Beatrice. A very even way, but no such friend. Benedick. May a man do it? Beatrice. It is a man's office, but not yours.

Benedick asking if a man may do "it" is a blatant offer to try to fix things, but it's pretty damn clear at this point in the text that he has big-ass heart eyes and hasn't thought this offer through, because the way to right Hero is to either get Claudio to recant--which he's not going to do because that is going to make him look like an absolute dingus and it will embarrass Don Pedro--or else to kill him in a duel. To ask a man to kill his best friend--even if that best friend is a complete and utter chungus--is cruel. It is one thing to call a friend out for being a dick to Hero, but to ask for Benedick's to be the hand that kills Claudio is a whole other level that Beatrice is going out of her way to excuse him from.

She is explicitly--and correctly, frankly, given the chains of command and power dynamics involved--excusing Benedick from being responsible for Claudio's behavior and correction. And while yes, part of dismantling the patriarchy is men holding each other accountable, murder is not accountability, it's the beginning of a goddamn blood feud. So Beatrice is over here very subtly going "You have clearly not thought this offer through, and I'm not going to ask you to kill your best friend." It is not his office.

And rather than hearing what Beatrice is saying, Benedick goes and MAKES IT HIS OFFICE by declaring his love for Beatrice. Which like...aside from this being not the moment, it just makes it even clearer that Benedick is not actually listening to Beatrice here. His focus is on her, but Beatrice is razor-focused on Hero and the fact that Claudio just more or less ended Hero's life. But here's the other thing.

I subscribe to the "Beatrice and Benedick had a prior relationship before the play and it ended badly" theory, because I think it explains a lot about their dynamics. But that also makes this scene a little bit risky and pointed. Because yeah, while Beatrice warns him not to swear he loves her and then eat his words, if they have a history, then her "Kill Claudio" is not just a request. It's a test.

He already didn't choose her once, presumably for way lower-stakes reasons. So to ask him to choose her, to be on her side, with all of what that means, is a test of a possible new relationship. And it's one Benedict comes perilously close to failing, because of course he's not going to kill his best friend and brother-in-arms.

And just like that, Beatrice is out, because Benedick "dare easier be friends with [her] than fight with [her] enemy." His choice is not her, and she will not be anyone's second choice. Especially given that choosing Claudio means that Benedick is engaging in the infuriating mental gymnastics where Hero can have been done badly wrong, but Claudio somehow isn't Hero and Beatrice's enemy.

This is not a complicated situation; Claudio was absolutely in the wrong, caused harm, and needs to be called on the goddamn carpet for it, and Benedick is over here trying to "both sides" it. I'd have been out too, and then he has the nerve to insist that he and Beatrice be friends before she's allowed to leave the stage! I adore that she then full-on goes off on him, and every single time Benedick tries to get a word in edgewise, Beatrice comes up with another argument and just cuts his ass off. There is no "letting him explain," there is no "I'm just playing devil's advocate," there is no "trust me, I know Claudio." There is only the facts of what happened, and Beatrice hammering them directly into Benedick's head. Lots of productions cut out the attempted interruptions by Benedick in favor of letting Beatrice run with a monologue, but if you look at the text, he tries FOUR SEPARATE TIMES to interrupt her.

But Beatrice just steamrolls on, and the thing is, it works.

Beatrice hits and refutes key arguments that we can just imagine Benedick bringing up. The bullshit logic of him being in a romantic relationship with Beatrice while supporting Claudio's actions. The undeniable public slander of Hero. The bullshit that is slut-shaming and measuring a woman's worth by her virginity. The divide between an "ideal" manhood and the reality of men's behavior. The nonsense that is how easily men are valorized for slandering women. Every point brought up and thrown in Benedick's face until he is left with only one final question; the only possible question that could matter at the end of this scene:

Benedick. Think you in your soul the Count Claudio hath wronged Hero?

And Beatrice is very, very sure. Which ultimately is enough for Benedick to choose her, and agree that yeah, Claudio needs to be called out and corrected, and he is now on board with taking that responsibility.

It is kind of wild to me that this scene begins with Beatrice trying to protect Benedick from the reality of the situation, and insisting that if he wants to be in love with her, if he wants to be in her life again, then this time he has to choose her for all that that means. And as Beatrice makes clear, what that means is a disruption--if brief--of the patriarchy and the status quo. Being with Beatrice means that Benedick has to stop being the prince's jester and stand against toxic masculinity and harmful patriarchy in a real, concrete way.

It's Shakespeare, so that doesn't stick beyond the happy ending, but it is here, and Beatrice really said "if you want to be with me, you have to stand with and for me and the women around me" when it was clear Benedick wasn't taking no for an answer.

[nyxshadowhawk]

The Rural Dionysia submissions inspired me to attempt some poetry:

LARPing

I was accused of LARPing again. I get accused of LARPing, and of hubris, by people who see that I don't worship the gods properly, so I must not take them seriously. I am told that I have not been initiated. That the gods will strike me down, and put me in my place and then I'll be sorry. And I was sorry. I wept.

You kicked down the door with a big box of costumes, painted green with gold clasps. And you sat atop it with a winning smile. You asked me, “What shall we play? “Let's play pirates, and ride on the high seas, and turn the sailors into dolphins. “Let's play wizards, knights and castles. Grab your sword, and your armor, and your book of spells, and we'll save a princess from a dragon. “Let's slay Medusa, like you did once when you were seven, using your fairy princess wand as a sword, swinging it by the star until it broke. “You were Perseus, then. You climbed on Pegasus' back, and he took you to Olympus, where we, your siblings, waited for you.”

I asked, “Why wasn't I struck down like Bellerophon?”

And you said, “There's a big difference between being invited, and kicking down the door claiming you deserve to be there.”

I look at the box and I say, “I want to play Shaman.”

I know how problematic that is. I know that shamans are spiritual leaders from Siberia I know how insulting it is for a colonizer like me to imitate Native Americans as a childish game, Dressing up in fur and feathers like a bad Halloween costume And listening to New Agey "tribal" music While I dance around an altar that I built out of feathers and rocks and other natural talismans I'd collected and little figures of deer and elephants and leopard-print scarves spread under a fake plastic campfire that burned in the center of it all.

But I remember how it felt. It felt powerful. It felt ancient.

You smile and say, “It was powerful, and it was ancient. “You were not imitating any real indigenous rituals, except to burn sage and call it "smudging." “Everything else was your own. It was your ritual. A child, reaching back, back through the mists of time “To find the oldest ritual in the book. “Before there was theatre, there was LARPing. “Before there was writing, there was dance.”

And I said, “Lord of Dappled Pelts, give me that feeling back.”

You open the box. Inside are fawnskins and leopard skins, feathers, bones, animal skulls, Rough-hewn masks, with empty staring eyes, as primeval as the soil. You put a horned mask on my face, and dress me in furs, and braid feathers into my hair and put a necklace of bones around my neck that rattles with every step. Before there was theater, there was LARPing. There was the shaman, in their animal mask, behaving as the animal does, dancing round and round the ritual fire until they don't know the difference between man and beast, real and unreal, day and night. And you are there, where you've always been, in the dance. Casting the illusion over our eyes. The mask is a glamour, the stage, a farce. Storytelling itself, an enchantment cast over an audience as they watch and listen, enraptured, fully believing what they feel and see. It is old magic.

I found my gods by LARPing. I put on a white sheet, like a makeshift peplos, and made an olive crown out of pipe cleaners and construction paper and gold glitter and I drank nothing but white grape juice, the blood of the vine, and pretended it was ambrosia, and it was. I threw my paper leaves and thought the gods were listening, and they were. Back then, I didn't ask whether they were real or not, or whether what I was doing was historically accurate or not, or whether I was guilty of hubris for pretending that I, too, was a god.

You and I dance around our ritual fire decorated with stones, and feathers, and figurines grapevines, pinecones, and phallic objects and other fetishes, wearing our pelts and our animal masks. I lose my name, my face, my gender. I am made and unmade. In the primeval woods, in a time before the dawn of civilization, industry, writing, art, theatre religion, liturgy, sacrifice, humanity itself, we were LARPing.

[audrey-caden]

October 9th. 

It was Dallas and Audrey had been traveling with her boyfriend and the band during the peak of their tour. It was an important time for Jakob and Audrey was the proudest girlfriend you could ever have imagined. She stood by his side—whether directly by his side, behind the cameras as he gave interviews, or even in the front row as he performed. Wherever Jakob was, Audrey was nearby. 

By the time they made it to Dallas, Audrey was exhausted from the constant traveling. They were on the go for the better part of a month and she could barely keep her eyes open and stand on her feet. Jakob was already at the arena for practice when Audrey let Holly know that she wasn’t gonna come to the concert tonight. She needed to sleep. 

Audrey slept for about thirty minutes before her body jolted her awake and all she could think about was Jakob performing. What if he looked into the crowd and didn’t see her cheering for him in her bedazzled shirts she made for all his concerts? No. She couldn’t disappoint him. She’d sleep tonight after the concert while he chilled with the bandmates. 

So, Audrey climbed off the hotel bed and found an outfit for the night, pulling on her newest shirt she crafted for Jakob: slut for jakob only. She grabbed a cab and headed to the arena to surprise her boyfriend, not even bothering to let Holly know.  

______

Audrey approached the “band only” door and twisted the knob, letting herself in as she did all the time. Immediately, her eyes fell on Jakob as he was crouched over the table that held a line of coke, ready to snort it. She could feel all eyes on her, but her gaze was locked on her boyfriend who peered up to see her, his smile falling instantly, as did hers. She stared at him for a few moments before turning and leaving the scene, she slammed the door behind her. 

Audrey stormed out of the building and was in the dock area behind the arena where they loaded the equipment in and out. She could feel her eyes burning with frustrated tears, but she wouldn’t let them fall. She paced back and forth and waited….waiting for Jakob to come and explain to her what the hell that was. After all, he told her he stopped doing drugs, so what the fuck did she just walk into? Her hands were shaking with anger, but she tried to keep calm. She wanted to give him a chance to explain himself. 

As the minutes ticked away, Audrey could hear the music queuing up, meaning they were on stage now. “Asshole,” she wept, realizing he wasn’t going to come. Audrey crossed the road to a little cafe and called for an uber to take her back to the hotel. 

______

Back at the hotel, Audrey took a hot bath to decompress and then climbed in bed in just an oversized shirt. She didn’t go to sleep, but she laid there, waiting. It was hours before she heard the keycard chime as someone came into the room. He was moving slowly so as not to wake up, maybe? Audrey rolled over to face him, her eyes sad. “You lied to me,” she whispered. 

Jakob sat down on the edge of the bed. “It just happened,” he said softly. “We’ve been touring so hard and it was there and…” he trailed off, shrugging. 

Audrey sat up and stared at him. “You’re a grown adult, I’m not going to force you to do anything. If you want to do drugs, that’s on you, but don’t tell me one thing and do something completely different.” She sighed. “I told you—what you say, is what I believe. Don’t tell me something unless you mean it.” 

Jakob nodded, “I understand.” 

Audrey laid her hand on his cheek, pulling his face closer to her. “Don’t lie to me, Jakob,” she whispered, her eyes pleading with him now. Trust was everything for the girl who had been morbidly broken in the past. She exhaled as a pout formed on her lips. “You didn’t even get to see my cute shirt I made for you. Sucks for you.” She smiled mischievously at him and pulled him closer to her. “Take me.”

[samgirl98]

Cain and Abel Wept 13/?

Prev | Next

Talia enters stage right

Ironically enough, Jason had never felt so alive than after drinking juice from the land of the dead.

Infinite Realms, Danny’s voice rang through his head.

Whatever he answered back.

Red Robin had fucked off a while ago, and usually, Jason would be going home, too, but he still felt wired. The pits were not quiet but muted, he could think. His emotions were his own, and when he thought about his dad Bruce, he didn’t feel an unyielding rage that threatened to consume him.

(Jason did still feel annoyed at the man.)

Jason had wanted to take a few vials of ectoplasm with him, but Maddie had vetoed him. She said his body needed to get used to the uncorrupted, pure ectoplasm, and she didn’t trust him not to experiment. Smart of her cuz he was gonna mix it with Red Bull to see what would happen.

An hour after patrolling (and nothing interesting happening), Jason was about to go home when he spotted her.

He knew he had only seen Talia because she wanted Jason to see her. Fuck, that can’t be good.

Jason could ignore her, but he knew better than to do that. Besides, in a weird way, Talia was like a mother to him. (What did that say about his life that the assassin lady that tried to use him as a weapon was a better mother than Sheila.)

Talia’s back was to him when he landed on the same roof.

“How are you, habibi?”

“Talia,” Jason started cautiously, “what are you doing here?”

She turned to look at him, “now, Jason, playing dumb is unbecoming.”

Jason felt his heartbeat pick up. She knew; she knew Danny was in Gotham. Still, he wasn’t willing to rat him out so quickly.

“Sorry, you have to elaborate.”

Talia raised an eyebrow, “I know Danyal is in Gotham. Why is he here, and where did my Beloved hide him?”

Jason cursed internally. It seemed like Talia had spies in Gotham.

“If you know he’s here, you should know why he’s in Gotham.”

Talia walked up to Jason; he ignored his speeding heartbeat.

“Jason, I know many things, but this isn’t one of them. Is Danyal in trouble? I need to know. I have to protect him however I can.”

“Like you protected him when he was in the League of Assassins? Oh, wait.”

Jason knew she would've flinched if Talia had been any other woman. The most she did was twitch a finger.

“I didn’t know that Danyal was planning on running away and taking his brother. Had I known he wanted out of the League, I would’ve done my best to get him out without my father’s knowledge. However, Danyal hid his desires deep in his heart so that not even I, his mother, could garner what he wanted.”

She sighed.

“My biggest regret is not protecting Danyal from his brother’s hands.”

“You mean Ra’s hands, your hands,” Jason said, angry, “You could’ve avoided all of this if you had given them to Bruce. Don’t blame your children, who were fucking kids, for how you raised them. You brainwashed Damian, you brainwashed—”

“Do you believe I brainwashed you, habibi? I treated you like one of my own. Don’t blame me for your actions.”

Jason gritted his teeth. It was true, unlike Danny and Damian, Jason had been older when Talia had gotten her hands on him; he chose to follow her and fall for her lies.  (He had wanted a mother, and Talia had filled that hole, even if it was with darkness.)

“Please, Jason, I just want to protect my children.”

“If you really want to protect them, leave their lives. Imagine what Ra’s will do when he finds out Danny is alive. And he will if you stay here in Gotham.”

Talia turned her back to him, “I will find out why Danyal is in Gotham. I left him a place where father would never find him, and now he’s here in Gotham where Ra’s can find out about him. Despite what my father may think, Danyal isn’t stupid; he wouldn’t be here in Gotham unless he is in danger. A danger that doesn’t involve my father or the League.”

She gave him one last look, and she looked… vulnerable. Just as she threw herself from the roof, Jason couldn’t help but say, “Danny, he goes by Danny now.”

He knew she had heard him.

____

Danny woke up to the ringing of his phone. He groaned; was it too much to ask for sleep?

“Hello, you’ve reached the number of underappreciated talent. Leave a message after the beep,” Danny mimicked the dial tone sound and waited to see what the person would do.

“Danny, this is Jason. Call me back when you get this message; Talia is in town.”

“Jason, I’m here. I was messing with you. What do you mean Talia is in town? When did you see her?”

“Danny,” Jason asked incredulously before answering, “I saw her about ten minutes ago. She was waiting for me on a rooftop. I left the area before I called you; she wants to know where in Gotham you’re stashed away. She knows you’re here and wants to know what you’re running away from.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK! Talia could bring the League of Assassins on his ass if Ra’s found out about Danny’s faked death. True, his mother had been the one to help him fake his death, but he had conflicted feelings about the woman. He didn’t even consider her his mom anymore.

(He had a real mother who would kill and die for him. One who had left everything she knew and loved behind to run away with him to ensure he was safe.)

“What did you tell her?”

“Nothing much, just that you preferred to be called Danny now. Have no idea why I did that, but I didn’t tell her where in Gotham you are. I wouldn’t be surprised if she found out, though.”

“Have you told Bruce yet?”

“No, I wanted to call you first.”

“Okay, okay.  I can fix this; I can totally fix this.”

Danny stared up the stairs where his family was sleeping. They didn’t deserve this; maybe if he ran…no, he couldn’t do that to them.

“I’ll let Bruce know; you tell him what happened, too. I’ll wake up my family and let them know what’s developed.”

There was silence in the other line for a moment.

“Danny, I know you don’t want to move to the Manor, but maybe—”

“I’ll discuss it with my family,” Danny cut Jason off before hanging up.

Danny picked up the phone and texted his brother.

ME: What can you tell me about mother and her

Involvement with the League

…

…

Danny bit his nails as Damian typed.

DAMI: She and Grandfather had a falling out, so she’s

left the League. There has been a schism within its

ranks. However, Grandfather wants to put her back

under his thumb. Why do you ask, Akhi?

ME: Jason just spoke to her. She’s in

Gotham.

DAMI: Fuck. Does Father know?

ME: Not yet. I told Jason I would tell

him and for him to tell bruce too.

ME: Jason recommended I go to the

manor that d it’d be safer but idk

…

…

…

DAMI: As much as I would love to

have you close, Akhi, don’t let fear

dictate your decision.

Danny laughed a bit manically. Danny had let fear dictate his life since Dami’s betrayal. Why should he change it now?

ME: thanks baby bro I’ll take

that into account. BTW, before

I forget don’t get too angry at

them. They were just being idiots

DAMI: What do you mean, Akhi?

ME: You’ll see 😏

Danny took a deep breath. He had to wake his parents and Jazz up. It was going to be a long day.

____

Talia watched with mild interest as the men dressed in white suits set up their equipment in an abandoned warehouse.

The fact that they could get to Gotham without her Beloved noticing was disconcerting, to say the least.

She beckoned toward the shadows, and one of her servants stepped out.

“Investigate these men. Find out what they want and what they’re doing here. You have one hour.”

The man bowed before disappearing back into the shadows. She would protect her sons, no matter what.

Next up: Bruce scolds the kids; gets called a [redacted]

Constantine does not want to be at the manor, but alas

@spectralstardustandphantomnights @avelnfear @idfk-man10 @blackroserelina @candeartist422 @luer-mirin @mur-ururu @insufferablecrab @skulld3mort-1fan @meira-3919 @aethernorwood @mimilikey @marshmelloe @latheevening226 @ahyesanerd @lexdamo @chrysanthemum9484 @spooky-fm @gmkelz11 @jotaroslooseeyebrowhair @supershot73199 @starscreamlover @booberrylizard @pastalavistamf

[pol-ack]

The Queen is Dead: A Morrissey X Reader Adventure

hugely inspired by @jemblespee, was given the go ahead to write the second chapter for this legendary work. 10/10 weeped before will again

beautiful first chapter can be found here:

Steven blinked, the sudden light from the sun of Birmingham beaming onto his weary face. Tears welled as his dainty pale arms created friction against the rubble beneath him, the loss of you, and your scent, by his side.

"How could it have come to this?" He weeped, shaky hands pulling up to cut through the air and to rest onto his face. He barely could pull himself up.

Yet, it was the depravity in the form of his longing for you that forced him to get up. He had to, if he wanted to win you back from the clutches of his ex lover, Robert Smith.

However, on the other side of England, you could care less. Having huddled in together with good ole Rob, the two of you basked in eachother's presence without the.. burden, that used to be your ex. In fact, you had been having such a wonderful time, you had forgotten how Johnny Marr was supposed to come visit soon.

Now while the history between him and Morrissey had been bitter, the prior intense lovers breaking up due to continuous toxicity in a relationship on Steven's end, you had insisted on Johnny staying a constant within your life, finding him a lively person to be around. It had caused several arguments between you and Steven, however you had the upper hand as the Alpha in the relationship.

And as he walked through the door, spotting you and Robert, three of you making intense eye contact with one another, Robbie shot you a knowing glance, the two of you in sync towards your affection towards Johnny. You looked back at Robbie, almost double checking. Yet he gave you a nod, leading the words of invitation to spill like molasses from your lips.

Morrissey was restless. He couldn't stand this feeling, this sinking feeling. He couldn't mansplain manipulate malewife out of this. He needed to find you. He clamoured through cities, running and speaking to each person, even those he detested, all to find you again. He thought that if he just returned, he could make it right.

So he gripped his bouquet of much too long flowers, and slicked back his hair into his classic hairstyle. His "Steven" hair, as he called it. He ignored how you pointed out the idiocy in this name, he ignored it so he could just see you in all the best ways. Best ways, of course, being an asset to him. As per usual.

Nevertheless, the charming vegan graciously ended up at your door in the end, banging furiously.

"Y/N!" He screamed, wailing almost. Yet with it being Morrissey, he held his entitled accent when he had. "Let me in, please! We can just talk this out, I promise you! Then we could merely forget this all, and bask in the-"

"What the fuck?!"

He screamed at the sight in front of him. Johnny Marr, Robert Smith, his old flames. Too close for comfort to You. He couldn't believe it. He crode. He scrumt. He stomped his feet. Yes, he was having a kiddie tantrum.

Yet, it only made it worse when all three of you stood up. And charged.

WHAM! (like the band)

They all crashed into him. Morrissey bleated pathetically like the Omega he is at every blow, each punch hitting him worse.

WHAM!

Another punch across the face. He raised his hands up, begging for the hits to stop.

WHAM?!

Multiple kicks to the groin. Steven wept, trying to put up a fight, yet against the power throuple made of (y/n), Robert, and Johnny, he was no match.

"Wham" - jemblespee, I Know It's Over: A Morrissey X Reader Adventure (2023)

The pathetic man flew to America, crashing into the stage of Radiohead's concert, concerning all male manipulators and racists globally of his potential death.

Meanwhile the throuple rejoiced, basking in smoocherinos and several speakers blearing the song "Pink Triangle" in victory. It tasted sweet, and you knew only good could come from this.

The End.

[sjsmith56]

Contact - Chapter 7, Finding Jade

Summary: Ma senses a familiar presence searching for Jade and decides to reveal the real connection between the two. Bucky tries to calm an upset Jade after she experiences a flashback of child sexual abuse. Realizing that her own father enabled Elder Abraham as a pedophile Jade vows vengeance. The Avengers agree to go after the cult but only to turn them over, which doesn’t satisfy Jade.

Length: 3.6K

Characters: Everyone is in this, except for Ben.

Warnings: Flashback of sexual abuse, disagreement between Jade and the others, desire for vengeance.

Author notes: As Ma recognizes who has been looking for Jade she realizes she has to reveal her true relationship with Jade. It sets the stage for much of what will come, including the close relationship she will develop with Bucky.

<<Chapter 6

🏜️

Ma, Wanda, and Jade did another practice session to lure one of the Others away from its nest. They pulled this one quite a distance to see how far before the sentries followed. As soon as they were out of visual range two sentries came looking for the wayward creature and they released him.

"Well, as long as we don't take them out of visual range of the nest we can take him quite a ways," said Ma. "How fast do they move at top speed?"

"About 30 mph," said Bucky, who had been observing the session. "I don't know if they do that speed in the exo-suits. That distance today was what, about half a mile? That doesn't give you very long to get away if they come searching."

"No, it doesn't," said Ma. "It's almost certain we'll need a distraction to get away."

She stopped talking for a moment and something flickered over her face, recognition, or a bit of fear...Jade sent her mother a thought.

"Ma, what's wrong?" she asked. "You felt something."

"You didn't," she said, "and that has me worried. Someone is looking for you. I think you should shut down all of your abilities for the next while. Don't use any of them until we do the mission."

"Ma, tell me what you saw," said Jade, worried.

Her mother turned directly to her. "I have something to tell you," she said openly. "Go get Bruce and Steve. They should hear this. Bucky, Wanda, you come also. I'll be in my room."

Jade found the others and brought them to Ma's room. They sat on the couch and chairs while she sat on the edge of the bed. Nervously, she clasped and unclasped her hands. Then she looked at Jade.

"What do you remember of your mother?" she asked.

"Just a presence," said Jade. "No face or voice."

"And your father?" asked Ma.

"A tall man, blond, could ride a horse, and he cried when he left me in the Badlands," she said.

"He was upset," she said. "You weren't the first member of his family to be cast out. His wife was the first, a year before because of her psychic abilities. She stayed nearby though because she was concerned about their daughter, who had exhibited the same abilities that both parents had, except your father hid his. On the day he took you out to the Badlands he sent a thought message to his wife and told her where he left their daughter so she could find her and take her to safety. Except the wife had a medical incident. A migraine so bad that she thought she was having an aneurysm. Her friend called an ambulance and they kept her in the hospital for two days, until she snuck out and drove to where her husband said he had left their daughter. She wasn't there. For another two days your mother looked everywhere for you, finally finding you at the base of a hoodoo. You were almost dead and she thought she lost you."

Ma started crying and Bucky stood up to hold her. "You're Jade's mother," he said gently, his eyes full of concern, "her real mother."

She nodded and wept into his chest. Jade's eyes were full of tears but she said nothing, and offered no comfort to Ma. Patiently, she waited for Ma to speak.

"I was a nurse and I bought some IV fluids and I treated you at home for dehydration and exposure," she said. "Gently I went in and removed my face from your previous memories. I wanted you to have a fresh start and forget that I had no choice but to leave you there. I hated them for what they did to you, a six year old. I hated your father for staying with them, choosing them over you. But the leader, Elder Abraham, had such a hold on him, I was surprised John even dared to tell me where you were."

"Why now, Ma?" asked Jade. "Why tell me now, instead of years ago?"

"I tried to tell you, many times," she said, looking at her daughter with a fearful face. "But I was afraid you would leave me and take Ben, and you two were all I had. We were so happy and I was terrified you would hate me."

"Ma," said Jade, standing in front of her mother, "I can never hate you. You saved me. You showed me how to use my gift, how to be a good mom, how to love a good man. I just wish you had trusted me and told me the truth sooner. Your future knowledge is better than mine. What have you seen that pushed you past your fear of telling me?"

"Two things. The Others will take me and I won't be here to protect you," she said. "Wanda will try, the others will try but it might not be enough to keep the Children of Adam from taking you."

"When will the Others take you?" asked Bucky.

"On the mission," she said. "They will come for the one we're examining and I won't be able to hold the illusion long enough for me to get on the horse. Bruce and Peter will get away because I'm the human they want."

"That's why you were trying to extend the distance," said Steve, "to buy yourself more time. What's the second thing?"

"The presence that was looking for you in Albuquerque was your father, Jade," said Ma. "He's still with Elder Abraham and they want you back. They want you back to marry Abraham and become the mother of their cult. They think because you survived the wilderness you proved your divinity. In their minds you will save them, and only them from the Others. You can never go back there. Bucky, you have to protect her. Don't let them have her. I'm not afraid of dying as long as I know Jade and Ben are safe. But right now it's fifty / fifty that I'll die."

"Wait," said Steve. "This isn't a sure thing?"

"Nothing in the future ever is," said Ma. "There's always a chance it works out differently."

"We need Dr. Strange," said Bruce. "Surely, he must still be alive. Wanda, when was the last time you tried making contact?"

"About a year ago," she said. "He wasn't showing up on any of my visions. I've had no visions about Jade or her mother, either. It's like there's a blank spot over them."

"Who's Dr. Strange?" asked Jade.

"Sorcerer Supreme," said Bucky. "He was a neurosurgeon who was injured and learned to harness magical abilities including the ability to look forward into time, into all possible futures."

Jade frowned. "Does he wear a red cape?" she asked. "Blue suit?"

All three men and Wanda stood up. "Yes," said Steve. "Why?"

"I dreamed of him," said Jade. "While I was in the Badlands, dying. He came to me in a dream. Why can't I remember what he said?"

She stood there pressing her hands to her head. Wanda walked to her.

"May I?" she asked.

Jade nodded and Wanda put her fingers on Jade's temple and closed her eyes. Together the two women saw the vision that Jade had dreamed when she was delirious with pain in the Badlands.

"Touch either Jade or myself if you want to see this," said Wanda.

All three men touched one of the women while Ma used her own abilities.

"I'm dying Ma, they killed me," moaned Jade, as she lay face down in the dirt.

"You're not dead yet," said a man.

Jade looked up and saw a man in a red cape. "Who are you?"

"Dr. Stephen Strange," he said. "I'm here to make sure you get to the Bunker and give the Avengers a message."

He bent down over her and gently laid her on her back, lifting her shirt and seeing the wound. Shaking his head he waved his hands over it and the wound closed.

"That will have to do for now," he said. "Long enough to get seen by the dog, anyways. Now listen carefully. What you and your mother propose is what we're trying in our bunker in Canada. That's why I haven't been answering the call. I've needed all my attention on this. Don't you try it until I get back to you. It's a good idea but all sorts of things can go wrong. Oh, and tell Steve, welcome back. I'm sorry about Peggy. Tell Bucky, I'm sorry about Lily. Tell Peter that Aunt May is safe. They must look after you, Jade, you're the key."

The dream ended and everyone stood back. No one said anything at first.

"So does that mean the mission is on hold?" asked Ma.

"I guess so," said Steve. "He was pretty specific about waiting."

Life was always a matter of waiting for the right moment to act.

    Paulo Coehlo

The meeting in the common room to share Jade's vision was ... interesting. Peter was happy to hear his Aunt May was safe, at least she was a few weeks previous when Jade first had the vision. Clint thought it was a little convenient to just remember now about the vision.

"I was dying, Clint," said Jade. "Ask Bruce if you don't believe me. Plus I was delirious. I saw Death sitting on the back seat in the car waiting for me. It didn't even click for me until Bruce mentioned Strange's name and it sounded familiar."

He nodded and said sorry for seeming angry. Scott had an unrelated question.

"How many queens are there?" he said.

"I would guess it's like a bee hive, each nest has a queen?" said Jade. "I don't know much about bee hives."

"You're partially right," said Sam. "Each hive has a queen but without a queen they die. I think this queen has many nests that support her. The other part of your meeting, about Ma being your real mother. Don't you find it a little too coincidental that you survived four days in the Badlands when you were six and again just a few weeks ago for several days when you were almost dead? You're not a big person, you're quite slender. How did you manage to survive at all? Other than Dr. Strange's intervention."

"What do you mean Sam?" asked Bucky. "Do you think divine intervention was at play here?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "But the cult seems to think so if they're looking for her."

"Strange said Jade is the key," said Ma. "It was her that first heard the queen. I think right now we make sure the cult don't get their hands on her."

Everybody agreed with that assessment. The meeting broke up and Jade ran out of the room. Ma watched her leave and bowed her head, wondering if she had damaged the relationship with her daughter forever. Bucky looked at her, gave a grim smile, and left to find Jade. He found her in the garage with the horses. Standing in the doorway he watched her gently stroking their necks, being nudged by them as she connected to their minds.

"You shouldn't be using your gift right now," he said. "If it leads the cult to you..."

She looked at him. "They're afraid," she said. "They can sense when there's danger and it's close already. Why me, Bucky? Why am I the key?"

He stepped forward but she stepped back behind the first horse. "Don't," she said softly. "You're not the one who the Others want, who the cult wants. It's a curse. It's always been a curse. I either die or be raped by a creepy old preacher."

"I won't let that happen," he said, stepping slowly forward. "I'll steal the quinjet and take you and Ben far away to where no one will ever find us. Ma, too, if you want her to come. Please, come to me."

She pushed her face into the horse so he wouldn't see her cry. He was almost to the first horse and it nickered softly at him.

"It's okay," he murmured, to her and to it, as he stroked its neck. "I won't hurt you. I only want to take care of you."

He was right in front of her between the two horses and he gently took her hand, pulling her to him. Enclosing her with his arms he pulled her into his chest and bent his head over hers. Slowly he took a step back with her, then another and another until they were away from the horses. Then he lifted her in his arms and took her to their room where he laid her on the bed and covered her up with the duvet before laying beside her on top of it.

"Just sleep, baby," he whispered. "I'm here with you until you sleep. No one can get past me to you."

She could feel his warmth through the duvet and it soothed her, feeling like a heater aimed at her back. As he kept whispering in his calm voice she closed her eyes and slept.

"Well there you are sunshine," said her father. "Where have you been hiding? Elder Abraham wants to see you."

Six year old Jade came out from the closet in her room. She had been hiding because she knew Elder Abraham was looking for her. She didn't like him. Not since that day when he put his hand down her shirt and touched her chest. She had tried to pull away but his other hand was on her back and he kept her close to him, too close to him.

"I don't want to see him Daddy," she whined. "He smells funny."

"Sshh, baby, he's our pastor, our leader," he said. "He's a great man and he thinks you're very important."

"No," she said and she refused to move. "Why can't you see that he's a liar? He's bad, Daddy. He touched me in a private place. Mom said he's a pedo something. Don't make me see him."

"Your Mom was cast out," he said sternly. "We don't say her name anymore. You shouldn't be saying lies about Elder Abraham. That's wicked and you can go to Hell for being wicked."

"Then I'll go to Hell!" screamed Jade. "Daddy, don't! NO!"

Bucky felt Jade tense up and start to shake as if she was trying to pull herself away from someone or something. He tried to wake her up but she resisted until she sat up screaming. Pulling her into his arms he stroked her hair and back as she wept.

"He was a pedophile," she spat out, as she cried, "the whole cult, they were following a pedophile. I wouldn't submit to him so he called me wicked, cursed, an abomination, and he cast me out. My father chose him over me. Oh, Bucky, I'm terrified. They're going to find me and make me join them. We have to stop them."

As he calmed her down Bucky's mind whirled with ideas on dealing with the cult for the other Avengers to consider. They couldn't go after the Others until Dr. Strange contacted them. But they could have another mission. To find and disband the Children of Adam and put Elder Abraham behind bars. He heard a knock on their suite door. Opening it he saw Wanda and Ma, both with a worried look on their faces. Looking behind him, he closed the door and stepped out into the hallway.

"You know what she dreamed of?" he asked.

"I know," said Ma. "I reported them when I was cast out but they put on such a pious show of lies that the police brushed it off."

"She's terrified they're going to force her to join them," said Bucky.

"She's right to be," said Wanda. "I had a vision. It was dark, very dark. This cult is evil. They want her to have Abraham's child so that it has her powers and he'll use the child to bring about an apocalypse, using the Others to kill those who don't submit. They'll use Jade and the child to shield them from the Others. They have gold, lots of it. That's why the traffickers offered you gold for Jade. He's got them all looking for her."

"I won't let them take her," he said. "I'll take the quinjet and take her far away."

"It won't be far enough," said Ma, sadly. "John has a link with her now, a tenuous one but he can build it. Eventually they will find you and take her from you, over your dead body if they have to."

The door opened behind Bucky to reveal Jade standing there.

"If you're going to talk about me you might as well do it to my face," she said, turning back into the room but leaving the door open.

The others followed her in where she stood facing them in the centre of the room.

"We have to stop them," she said. "Not just to keep them from taking me but for the kids they are abusing now. Abraham is a monster with an appetite for children. I can't stay here knowing that he's alive."

"You want him dead?" asked Bucky. "Jade, I won't kill. No matter what he's done, I'm not a killer anymore."

"Then I'll kill him," she said. "Wanda, Ma, I need to up my abilities. If they take me they will bring me to him. I'll be close enough to kill him."

Bucky tried to intervene.

"Leave me alone. I accept that you won't kill him."

"Jade," he pleaded. "Let the Avengers handle him. We'll come up with a plan. I'll bring it to them right away."

"He's right," said Ma. "They're dangerous people. Jade, let them move against him. If you go, they'll hurt you, bad."

"Alright," she agreed. "Bring it to everyone. I'm willing to let the professionals handle it."

Ma and Bucky left to organize a meeting. Jade looked at Wanda.

"You'll help me? asked Jade. "I've seen it. They won't be successful."

"I'll help you," said Wanda. "You'll have to block yourself from your mother. She can't know. Let's be straight about this. You plan to kill him with your mind, not a weapon."

"My mind will be the weapon," replied Jade, looking coolly at Wanda. "I might have to kill my father as well."

"Jade, are you sure you can kill?" asked Wanda. "I've done it. It will affect your soul, permanently. There's no going back."

"I'm certain," she said out loud. "It has to be done."

She moved to the door and opened it. Wanda joined her and they both left the room. Bucky and Ma had alerted everyone to a meeting in the common room. Bucky and Steve were standing at the side talking in a low voice to each other. Jade could see Steve wasn't happy about anything Bucky was saying.

"Bucky called the meeting but it's about a vision I just had," she said loudly. "We can't go after the Others yet, but there is another group we need to handle. We need to stop the Children of Adam."

"Why?" asked Sam. "What have they done?"

"They're the group that cast out Ma, then me when I was six years old," she said. "I always believed it was because my abilities frightened them but it was more than that. I wouldn't submit. Their leader, Elder Abraham is a pedophile. He abuses children. He also believes that I'm meant to rejoin the cult and bear his child. They're going to come looking for me. I ask that you take them out first."

As everyone talked at once Ma looked at Jade, several times. Each time her face grew more and more alarmed.

"Why are you blocking me, Jade?" she suddenly blurted out loud. "What is it that you don't want to me to see?"

Everyone stopped talking and looked at the two women, mother and daughter.

"Again, why are you blocking me from your mind?" demanded her mother, pulling on Jade's arm.

"Because you'll try to stop me from killing Elder Abraham, and possibly killing my father," said Jade, looking in her in the eye. "Dear old Dad is the one looking for me. Without him, they can't find me. Abraham is a pedophile, a monster who preys on children. He doesn't deserve to live. After all they've done to us, to me, don't I get to have the justice they deserve?"

"Killing them isn't the answer," interrupted Bucky. "Trust me on this. It scars you for life. I have many scars from killing. I remember every single one. Bring them to justice, yes. Killing them, no."

"Jade, we're going to launch a mission against the cult," said Steve, stepping in between her and her mother. "But we will turn Abraham and your father over to the authorities."

"What if the authorities are part of the cult?" she asked. "What if the reason the traffickers have been allowed to flourish in Albuquerque is because they provide children to Abraham. They have gold. Clint, you said yourself that gold always makes a difference. No authorities."

Bucky and Ma looked at each other then at Jade. Neither were happy at the state of Jade's mind. Something dark had seized her and was influencing her. That a mission to stop the cult was necessary was openly accepted by the group. Steve stood next to Bucky and they both looked at each other, realizing that the proposal to kill Abraham and possibly Jade's father could tear the group apart. How to prevent that was going to be a lot more difficult.

Chapter 8>>

Series Masterlist

Please like, comment or reblog.

[bt5bby]

Hello 👋🏻

I will spare you the long reason why this story took me forever… but I finally got it into the editing website I use which was my biggest hurdle for 2 months. 😅 (sorry if it’s a bit disjointed too)

Anyway, here is Namjoonie’s story… Lonely.

Warning ⚠️ - Graphic child birth, Mpreg, mentions of rape and sexual slavery(kinda), mention of threats/violence, sick children.

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Namjoon heaved against the bed posts. His body was ready to give in and pass out, but he knew he couldn't. He had to continue to work hard, holding his legs in the correct position and using all his strength.

Oh, how he wished he had someone else here. He didn't want to do this alone. He wanted someone holding his hand, encouraging him, telling him how well he was doing and that it was nearly over. He wished he didn't have to do this in his crappy apartment, hours away from anyone he knew.

He wanted to be at a hospital, safe and secure. People tell him what to do and how to do it. He wanted to ensure everything would be ok, but he wasn't at a hospital. He didn't have anyone around him to help, and he didn't know if everything was ok. He was alone, giving birth to his baby in a dank apartment in a city far away from his home.

He screamed again, feeling the pain of a contraction. He had been at it for hours, pushing as hard as he could but not finding any real progress. When the pain stopped, he laid his head back again, struggling to catch his breath between sobs.

All he could do was cry. Cry and wait for the next contraction, which wasn't far away, and then start pushing again. The pain was worse than he imagined, but he was determined to do this. He chose to keep his baby, and now he would bring it to life, even if it killed him.

He pleaded with it internally as if the baby could hear him while in his body. 'Please come out. I can't take much more!' He screamed again, the next contraction clenching his muscles to push the baby out of his body.

Before he was in the mid stages of his labour, he walked around the house, thinking just how lucky he was that his baby was tiny. The nurse he saw last told him that he was a bit underweight.

Namjoon regretted doing all he could to ensure his baby was born at an average weight for those last two months. He was sure that the baby must have grown into a bowling ball or something because as he felt the head starting to push his hole open, he swore he nearly tore it in half.

The scream that left his mouth was so shrill he was sure it had set off the dog 10 blocks over. Namjoon was just thankful that the place he lived in was so poor that none cared enough to call the police. They would all just ignore him.

With the next push, Namjoon felt his hole stretch around the broadest part of the baby's head. He must be so close to crowning. Namjoon was sure he could feel the top of the baby's head on the next push. He wept more, hearing another ding from his phone beside him.

He had turned off all GPS and signals, routing the location to a different place every few days to make it look like he was constantly moving, but he kept it on. He had never changed his number, just in case he needed something. Just in case he decided to go back.

The noise drew his attention away momentarily, and he looked at the phone. As much as he had it, he didn't really use it. In fact, it had been several weeks since he unlocked it. He didn't need to do everything he could on his phone; he could do it on his laptop, which was much harder to track. He looked at the phone screen light up, seeing a message from another of his old band members.

They had been piling up for a long time, showing all on the notifications board on his phone. Six individual chats pinging away over time. He had read each one and never replied, but he read them all. They made his heart hurt every time, but he wouldn't stop. He liked to torture himself. He cried a little harder reading the message from his friends.

"I still don't even know if you are reading these, but it makes me feel better." The text read. "I don't know what happened, and I don't know why, but know that wherever you are, I'm always here, right where you left me."

Namjoon screamed again, the next contraction ripping through his body again. He sent a hand down to feel between his legs, the baby's head was now sticking out slightly, and he could feel the hair on its head. "I miss you, and wherever you are, I hope you're safe and happy." He finished.

Namjoon hiccuped his sobs from his chest. He tried so hard to calm his breathing, but now the added stress of the message really made him feel lightheaded. Just thinking about the boy made Namjoon's heart flutter.

He was at a loss for words, but that could have been the intense pain making him numb to all thinking. He mentally replied to the message, pouring his heart out until the next contraction came. This time Namjoon pushed his very hardest. He felt slightly more determined to get his baby out.

The boys had always strengthened him, even when they weren't there. With the force of the push, he managed to get most of the head out. He felt a tear as the baby reached the widest part of its skull, but he powered through it. It didn't even hurt, not compared to the rest of it. He doubled down, his contractions seeming much quicker after such a hard push, the pressure coming again.

Namjoon felt the baby's nose pop out, pushing past his tight rim. He was also relieved that the baby hadn't inherited his chin. He barely felt it pop out. Once the whole head was out, Namjoon gave himself a rest. He had seen many birth videos online, and most of them got the mother to wait after pushing the head out, not pushing in that contraction, but god, was it hard.

Every fibre in his body pleaded with him to get the big intrusion out of his body. "Ok, just a few more." He cheered to himself out loud.

He breathed through the first contraction, struggling to keep his pushes at bay, but he did it. Now it was time for the baby to get the fuck out. He pushed as hard as he could. He gently turned the baby, angling the shoulders to not hurt the arms.

Namjoon had been mortified when he saw some babies come out with dislocated shoulders. He couldn't let that happen. He would keep his baby safe.

The final contractions really hit hard for the once-great leader. He screamed for the next three, pushing as hard as possible. He felt the small baby slide out of his body, and a loud wail erupted from the tiny creature.

Namjoon sobbed a little harder, hearing his baby. He wasn't sure if it was relief or just his emotional outlet, but when he reached forward and picked the blood-covered thing up, he and it just sat for a few minutes, crying.

The new father took a few deep breaths to calm himself down and started to rock his baby. He still wasn't finished yet, and he knew it. He had to push the placenta out, cut the umbilical cord and make sure he wasn't bleeding to death all before he could stay with his baby, but calming them down for a few seconds wouldn't hurt.

He waited until the crying died and then sat the small thing to his side on a towel he had placed beforehand. He wrapped them up, so they were warm and then went back to pushing the placenta out. It took him another few minutes, but once he was sure it was mostly out, he used the cord to pull the rest, letting out a tiny wail once it left his body. He was so sore. Everything ached, and he was so tired.

All he wanted to do was cry. Cry and hug his baby and have someone hug him. God, he missed his friends and his family. He didn't want to be alone, but he had to. The baby let out another whimper, and he quickly picked it back up. He'd come to realise he was never alone.

Finally, he could have a good look at his little bundle. He looked down at the baby, cooing instantly. The small little nose, soft lips, and puffy eyes were all adorable to him. He moved the towel to get a good look at the baby.

He had never found out the gender when he got his scan. He felt bad for neglecting the health problems of not checking the baby properly, but he couldn't risk going to the hospital more than once.

They would report him if they picked up on who he really was. He would have to go back, and he couldn't. So now was the first time he would know his baby's gender. He took a deep breath, trying not to think about how creepy it felt to look at his baby's privates purposefully and look.

He let out a happy cry seeing his baby girl. He had a little girl. He moved her closer to his chest, making sure she remained warm. "Hello, baby." He chuckled wetly. "It's nice to finally meet you. I'm your Appa."

He didn't know whether to call himself an Appa, but he couldn't see himself as anything else. This wasn't supposed to be his life, but with his little girl in his arms, he couldn't regret it.

-

It took Namjoon a few days to get used to life with a baby now. It was hard for him because he was doing it alone.

He was sleep deprived, hungry from not having time or energy to go out to get food for himself, and a bit grotty because nipping off to shower couldn't happen, but he was trying his best. He had been sore the first two days, just staying around his room, looking after the baby and laying in bed.

He couldn't really do much anyways because he couldn't leave. He barely kept the two alive for the first week, but things felt better for the second week.

He set the little girl down for a sleep on the seventh day and quickly nipped in for a shower. The feeling of water on his skin was amazing but short-lived, as he had to get back out before she woke up. He ordered groceries online and delivered them to the apartment, and once he managed all that, he got a good night's sleep. His little girl had been wonderful the whole time.

He was so happy with her until the third week arrived. It started off on the Tuesday night of the third week. The little thing seemed fussy throughout her dinner, making Namjoon anxious.

She didn't have much, and then she was quiet until the two had been asleep for about 35 minutes. A loud wail emitted from her tiny lungs, alerting her Appa.

Namjoon shot awake, bolting to the baby. "Hey, honey, what's wrong?" He cooed, picking her up. He checked her nappy, seeing if it needed to be changed. No, so he figured she was hungry again. She hadn't eaten before, so he tried to feed her, but she didn't take to that either. He frowned. Maybe she needed to burp again?

He laid her over his shoulder, patting her back, but again nothing came up. Finally, he figured she just wanted some soothing. He began to rock her back and forth, swaying his hips to keep her calm. "Shhhh baby, Appa's got you." He said sweetly.

She continued to wail until she was exhausted, pretty much passing out. Namjoon sighed and laid her down in the crib. He wondered what must have been wrong, but he figured maybe she was just fussy tonight. Maybe something disagreed with her. He noted to keep an eye on her the next day and then went back to sleep.

Namjoon started to panic on the third day of this. For the second day, she seemed to be mostly fine like the day before, just a bit whiny. On the third day, however, she really started to fuss.

Right from the moment she awoke at 5 in the morning, she started wailing. Namjoon rushed to her side, quick to soothe her, offering food and cuddles. The baby quieted but never really stopped her whining.

Every little thing seemed to set her off, and she would scream loudly, ensuring everyone on the whole level could hear her.

Namjoon was starting to become stressed and worried. Was there something wrong with his baby? Had he hurt her in some way? He thought he was doing well. He tried his hardest not to become upset but lost the battle.

He managed to get her down for a small nap in the middle of the day, probably out of exhaustion again, allowing him time to calm himself, but it hit its peak at around 6 in the night.

She screamed and screamed, crying and wriggling around in his arms. Her little face was scrunched up, with tears running down her red face. He felt like he had hit a wall, his emotions bursting as he cried. "I'm sorry! I don't know what you need." He sobbed along with her.

He was rocking back and forth again, trying to soothe her with a dummy, but she kept spitting it out.

"I've tried everything." Namjoon pleaded with the baby. He was beyond worried about his little one, the stress eating him inside. The final straw was a loud thumping on the wall beside his bedroom. "Shut that fucking baby up, or I'll come and shut it up for you!" A person yelled. Namjoon only cried harder along with his baby.

Great, even the druggies think he's a bad parent.

He had to do something for her. She was clearly suffering for some reason, and he couldn't fix it alone. He had avoided the hospital at all costs, but now he had to take the risk. He couldn't lose his baby.

Namjoon packed a bag of overnight things for him and the baby and then strapped her into a carrier. He pulled out his phone, which he had turned off for several days, and called for an Uber. He ignored the pings on his phone as he quickly ordered the car to take him to the hospital and then went to the curb to wait.

It was now in the middle of winter, so he wrapped the baby in two blankets while dressing her in a thick onesie, a beanie, little mittens and some thick socks. He pulled the cover-up over the carrier, ensuring no wind blew into her face.

He had an old jacket on. It was a bit tight as he still had a lot of baby fat, but he didn't care about himself. He would take his jacket off if his baby needed more cover.

Thankfully, the man quickly arrived, helping Namjoon strap the car seat in and start to drive. The car was warm inside, so Namjoon pulled the blankets down to try and calm the baby again. Her cries were still loud but not as bad as before.

"Is she ok?" The driver asked worriedly. Namjoon sniffled. "I don't know. I'm gonna take her to the hospital." He admitted. The man nodded, telling Namjoon he would get them there quickly but safely.

Namjoon greatly appreciated it and then went back to comforting his girl. The man kept true to his word, and they were at the hospital no less than 20 minutes later.

Namjoon thanked the man, giving him a nice tip for being so helpful and then rushed into the ICU. He moved to the reception and placed the carrier on the desk. "Hello, how may I help you?" The lady asked.

Namjoon looked at her with a red face and teary eyes. "Hi, I need someone to check up on my baby. She has been crying nonstop all day, and I don't know what she needs. She won't eat as much, only sleeps if she's worn out completely, and she just doesn't stop crying." He rushed, feeling very agitated. He wanted her looked after right now.

"Can you tell me how old she is?" The lady asked, standing up to look in at the small baby, crying in the carrier. "She's just under four weeks old," Namjoon said. "And was she born ok? Early or anything?"

Namjoon didn't know, but he was sure she was born around when she was supposed to be. "She was born around 37 weeks." He admitted. The lady said that was fine.

She looked over at the little one, not seeing anything wrong, but she could tell that the crying wasn't just a hungry or tired cry.

"Alright, have you been to this hospital before?" Namjoon stilled. He would have to give their information. "No, I haven't." He said.

The lady nodded. "Ok, I'll need you to fill out some forms and get some information about your previous consultant so we can cross-check for a better diagnosis, but I have put you through to the NICU, and they will look after her immediately."

Namjoon nodded thankfully to the lady. He grabbed the board with the forms on it and then followed her to the NICU. A nurse approached them once they entered the wing and took Namjoon's baby from him.

"Follow me, sweetie. I'll check on her." The lady smiled at Namjoon. He did as told and moved into the room, sitting on a chair anxiously as the lady began to assess the baby. "You fill out those forms, and I'll do a quick exam of this little one." She smiled down at the little girl.

Namjoon nodded and hesitantly began to fill the forms out. He knew he would have to show ID, so lying was pointless. He really just wanted his baby to be ok. He filled the form out quickly and then placed it to the side, moving to stand by his child.

"She seemed to have shallow breathing. Did you say she was born early?" The lady asked. Namjoon shook his head. "I'm fairly sure she was born around 37 weeks." The lady frowned. "And you said that she hasn't been feeding right either?" Namjoon nodded.

"She'll take for a little while and then stop. She's only had like 3 feeds in the last day." Namjoon worried. The nurse nodded and looked back down, putting on her stethoscope and listening to the baby's breathing. "How long has she been like this?" She asked.

Namjoon sighed. "She started to fuss two days ago, but only today has she been really bad. She ate fine most of the time, maybe briefly, but then stopped today."

The nurse took a mental note and then stood up. "It seems like she's got some respiratory problems. I'll need to take an X-ray of her chest to make sure nothing is stuck. I'll start her on some oxygen to keep her breathing normal. I'll need to ask some questions about your birth and history." The lady said.

Namjoon felt anxious, but he had to find out what was wrong. He would give all the information he needed to get his baby girl healthy again. The nurse left to set up the oxygen machine and hand in the forms Namjoon had filled out.

-

The nurse in reception filled out the information in the system. She looked over the previous physician's list and found it empty. She frowned, wondering why he would have left it empty. "I'm going back in now. Can you page me when the X-ray is available?" The other nurse said. The lady nodded and went back to her job.

-

Namjoon watched as the lady taped a breathing tube onto his baby's face, keeping the tube in her nose. "This will help. Then we can discover the main problem once she's back to normal breathing." The nurse smiled calmly at Namjoon, making him feel better. He thanked her, relieved.

"So, I have some questions about what might be wrong." Namjoon nodded and looked at the lady. "The birth, was it problematic in any way?" Namjoon hung his head.

"Yes, it was quite stressful." He admitted. The lady nodded. "Was there anything wrong with her at the time? No breathing problems. The cord wasn't around her throat?"

"No, she was fine when she was born." The lady scrunched her nose, thinking for a moment. "What did the doctor say at her first check-up?" She asked. Namjoon awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, looking down at his girl.

"She hasn't gone for a check-up. This is her first one." He knew it sounded bad, but they had been doing well... The lady looked at him concerned.

"She was supposed to have a check at 3-5 days? Didn't your previous doctor tell you that when you got released after the birth?" Namjoon shook his head. "I had her at my house. T-there wasn't a nurse there." He made his tone soft, nearly a whisper.

"What?" She asked, a bit surprised at what she thought she had heard. "I had her by myself at my house. I couldn't make it to a doctor." The nurse was stunned. She wondered how the man had managed all by himself and why he hadn't taken the baby to a hospital sooner.

"I can't really afford it." He lied. He could afford it but didn't want to get turned in.

The nurse gave him a sympathetic look and then repeated the questions. "So would you say it was a hard birth? Sometimes a stressful birth can cause problems." The lady said. Namjoon shrugged shamefully.

He had never given birth before, so he didn't know if it was hard. "I'm sorry, I'm still new to all of this." He felt bad for not being more of a help.

The lady shook her head. "It's alright. The X-rays will give me a good hint at what is going on." She smiled. Namjoon nodded and relaxed, the lady leaving him until she had to come back for the X-rays.

He moved over to the seat by his baby, looking at her now calm little face. She was fast asleep, probably tired from being up for so long. He, too, decided to get some shut-eye, dozing off in the chair.

About half an hour later, the lady returned to the room, waking Namjoon up to go for the test. He stayed with his little girl the whole way, ensuring she was ok.

The lady was very happy with her behaviour throughout the procedure, giving her a little stuffed toy to sleep with. Namjoon smiled happily as his little girl was just about the same size as the teddy bear she was given.

"It will take a little while for the results to check them over. You can both return to the room. I'm sure you'll want a rest." Namjoon thanked the nurse again, returning to the room for more sleep.

He fed his little girl just before putting her to sleep again and then dozed himself. They managed a good two hours before the nurse came to get him.

"Thankfully, we have found nothing serious. I let you guys have a bit longer to sleep, knowing that you might need it." She smiled. Namjoon was incredibly thankful.

"She has asthma. It's not a bad case, either. It is probably just worse because of the cold. She will get prescribed a puffer and spacer. I'll teach you how to use it if you don't know. Give her one to two puffs when you think her breathing is getting shallow, and she should be good."

Namjoon sighed in relief. He could cry hearing the news. In fact, he did. Fat tears started to spill out of his eyes.

"She's not dying." He breathed heavily, burying his face into his hands with a relieved chuckle. The lady moved closer and touched his back, reassuringly rubbing it.

"No, your baby girl is just fine. In fact, apart from asthma, she's very healthy. She could be much worse from what you said about the birth." Namjoon looked up at the lady. "You're doing a great job at taking care of her." She smiled, and Namjoon couldn't hold the need to hug the girl back. He jumped off the bed and wrapped her in a hug.

The nurse chuckled and patted his back again. "Thank you so much." He sniffled, moving away once he realised how inappropriate he was being.

"It's ok. I assume it's stressful to be a new parent, especially a single one." She said with a soft smile. Namjoon nodded, slightly ashamed, but he knew she wasn't judging him. "Once I fill out the prescription, you both can go home." She smiled.

Namjoon was beyond ready to head back to his house. He was so happy that the lady was so nice, but he didn't want to risk being out in public more than necessary.

About an hour later, Namjoon said goodbye to the nurses and took his baby home. The kind lady smiled and waved him off before turning back to the other nurse at the desk.

"So we just send his reference to the outpatients." She said. The nurse nodded and brought up his file. Her face fell slightly, and she looked back to the nurse. "Wait, is that his name?" She asked.

"Yeah, Namjoon. Why?" She furrowed her brow at the weird reaction. "He's part of a missing persons case. We have an alert to look out for him." The nurse looked back out the glass windows after Namjoon. She felt bad for the guy. She didn't know the reasons for his life. Maybe he was kidnapped, maybe he was raped or domestically assaulted.

"We have mandatory reporting." The other lady said, looking sad as well. Both ladies sighed, knowing there was nothing they could do. It was law, and they had families to look after.

-

Namjoon had been having a much easier time with his little girl now. Just before she went to sleep, he would give her two puffs of the inhaler and ensure she was snuggled up in warm blankets. He bought an air humidifier to help with the cold air as soon as possible.

His little girl had been doing fine. He managed another week by himself with no problems until the crying returned. He worked through the first night, rocking her gently and calming her down.

He decided to sleep in the chair beside her cot that night, knowing she always slept better when he was around. He wondered whether she could sense his presence. Maybe she just needed to be with her daddy.

However, his idea was spoiled the next night when she wouldn't calm down, even when he held her. "No, please don't start this again. Appa is trying his hardest." Namjoon sighed, feeling his own emotion bubbling again.

He rocked, changed, fed, and gave her her puffer, yet she still wouldn't stop crying. "I'm sorry I'm not a good parent. I'm sorry I can't fix this." He cried again. He couldn't stop the thoughts if only he had help.

-

"Are you sure this was the address?" Jin asked, eyeing the building. It was run down and creepy looking. They had already heard 3 different sirens going off in the last 10 minutes, indicating how bad the neighbourhood was.

"Yes, this is where the investigator said he was." Yoongi sighed. The six boys all gave each other a nervous look and then headed into the stairwell to go up the floors.

"There isn't even an elevator? What type of place is this?" Taehyung whined as they approached the second set of stairs. Jungkook rolled his eyes at his lazy Hyung, joking about the older wanting the others to carry him up the stairs.

"Don't tempt me." Tae quipped back as they started onto the third set of stairs.

"God, Namjoon Hyung had to do this every day?" Jimin questioned as they topped the third. The others all shrugged, finding it not hard, just annoying.

"We still don't know this is him," Yoongi said cautiously. He didn't want to be a downer but wouldn't get his hopes up. They had been looking for Namjoon for the last 5 months. It had been a rough time, and hope could only last them so long. "Let's not hold our breath." He warned, finally coming to the top of the fourth stairs.

He looked around at the fifth floor they were now on. It was dinky and smelt of cigarettes and piss. He couldn't believe that their leader would live in a place like this. They all took a deep breath and then moved to the 5th apartment.

This was the address the investigator had given him, and as much as this place was horrible, he fucking hoped it was right. Only so many times can you tell yourself that it doesn't hurt.

They approached the door, silence among them. "I'm sorry I'm not a good parent. I'm sorry I can't fix this." A voice echoed through the paper-thin door. They could hear the sound of a loud baby crying, but they all were only focused on Namjoon.

"T-that voice... it's familiar." Hoseok whispered just loud enough that they all heard. The others all agreed, which made them all even more anxious. "There's nothing I can do! I'm failing." The voice called again with loud hiccups and sobs.

"Joon-!" Jungkook tried to call, but Jin put his hand over his mouth. "Shhh, don't yell. You'll scare him away." They remained quiet momentarily, hoping they hadn't given themselves away.

"God, I think I'm going crazy." A chuckle came from inside the apartment. "I can hear them. Your uncles. They always come to me when I need them." The boys' hearts ached to hear their leader talk about them.

"I miss them with all my heart." He said. "And I'm sorry you won't ever know how much they would have loved you." He sniffled again. "You would have been the light of their lives like mine."

All the boys had the exact same thought at that moment. Jimin, closest to the door, rushed forward and gripped the handle. He was surprised when the door opened, making a mental note to scold Namjoon about locking the doors later.

All six rushed in, finding the big leader looking up stunned in the middle of the floor.

The apartment Namjoon rented wasn't very big. It was a small studio apartment, but that's all he needed. He was trying to save money for the baby's later life, so the small room was enough for a single parent.

He had been crying on the floor with his baby in his arms when he heard his door burst open. He gasped and looked up, expecting to find a bunch of robbers or maybe busy police doing a search of the building. He did not expect to see the six boys he was talking about.

His eyes were so wide he was sure they would pop out of his head. Everything froze, and his little girl must have sensed a change in the room because she had stopped crying.

"Joonie?" Jin asked, looking at the tall boy on the floor with a baby in his arms.

Namjoon didn't want to move, scared that anything he might do would be wrong. He wholeheartedly wanted this to be his friends, his favourite people coming to find him, but he knew this wasn't good. This would make things so much worse.

"It's us, Namjoon-ah," Yoongi said softly, putting his arms out to show he meant no harm. Namjoon didn't need to swallow to feel the lump in his throat. It was so big that he almost thought it was blocking his breathing, but he knew that wasn't true. He was blocking his own breathing. "You can't be here." He choked out after more silence. The six boys looked at him cautiously.

"But we are. We are here for you." Jimin smiled, trying to show Namjoon their love, but the leader shook his head. He felt his tears returning, and he was positive he couldn't stop them. His whole body began to shake as he looked at the six.

"You have to leave. You have to leave." He chanted a few times with a fragile voice. "Please go away." He turned back down to his baby and held her closer.

"Hey Joon, it's ok. We aren't going to judge you." Hoseok reassured the boy, thinking he was nervous over the baby, but Namjoon kept rocking himself, telling them to go away. He pulled the small baby to his chest and tried to curl in on himself.

"If I close my eyes, you'll go away." He mumbled. The boys were concerned that he wasn't as mentally stable as once.

"Namjoonie, we aren't going anywhere. We just found you again." Jin said, trying to keep his voice happy and hopeful.

"Please, Hyung," Jungkook said. "We can go home now." Namjoon shot his head up, looking at the youngest.

"I can't go home. I can never go home." He said, his voice very clear and low.

Everyone was a bit stunned by the sudden firmness in his voice. "Why not Joon-ah?" Yoongi asked. He made the first attempt to get closer to the boy. He crouched down and went to rest a hand on Namjoon's shoulder, but the boy flinched away.

"Somebody did this to you, didn't they?" Taehyung asked, watching the leader intensely. It seemed obvious that Namjoon had been forced into something he didn't want. "Who did this? We can help you." Tae encouraged, joining Yoongi by the leader.

Namjoon shook his head and held his baby tighter. She fussed slightly at the tight grip, so Namjoon quickly let go again.

"Who hurt you, Namjoon? We will find them and make them pay." Jimin's face was stone cold. His voice was laced with venom. He was ready to beat whoever hurt his leader, friend, and brother.

"No, no, I can't. He said he'd hurt you if I did." Namjoon choked on another sob, starting to work himself up again.

"He can't hurt us, Hyung. We will find him and make him pay for hurting you." Jungkook held a fist up, showing that he meant to use it. There was silence for a moment, waiting for Namjoon to answer. "We are going to help you, Joonie. We will fix this. I'll take a DNA test of that baby to fix this if I have to." Jin said. Once again, Namjoon hugged the baby closer, thinking about his baby being used against him.

"Tell us who did this." Yoongi finally managed to touch the boy without him flinching away. He held his chin, lifting his face to look into his eyes.

"It started last year." He said, looking straight into Yoongi's eyes, though the rapper could tell he wasn't focused.

"Mr Lee approached me after dance and said I was falling behind." Namjoon's voice shook as he told his friends his biggest secret. "He offered me extra time to dance, and I wanted to be better for you all." He blinked a few times, trying to keep his tears away. "It didn't happen until the fourth time I stayed back." He could feel the tension from the rest of the group, so he kept his eyes on Yoongi. "I went to the bathroom after I finished the extra practice when he came in. I freaked out at him, telling him he was a weirdo for barging in when he knew I was there, but he just laughed at me. He pushed me against the wall of the cubical and started to touch me." Namjoon's voice broke the more he spoke. "I tried hard to fight back but was tired after all the practices. He had been making me stay back so he could wear me out, and then he struck when I was weakest." Namjoon took a moment, collecting his thoughts before he continued again. "After he raped me, he took pictures of me and said if I told anyone, he would leak them. I was so scared, so I didn't do anything." Namjoon felt ashamed. His pride had gotten him into this mess. "Eventually, I told him that I didn't care anymore. I wouldn't put up with this, but then Tae fell down the stairs, Jin Hyung nearly got hit with the sandbag on stage, and Hobi got the knife in the mail." The boys' eyes all widened, looking at Namjoon. "He said he would hurt you all if I told anyone." Finally breaking eye contact with Yoongi, Namjoon hung his head, looking down at his daughter. "Then, on the 5th of May, I found out I was pregnant. I told him I would get rid of the baby, but he told me not to. He said he would hurt everyone if I got rid of the baby, and then he told me to run away. He wanted me gone." Namjoon felt a hand on his shoulder but didn't look up.

"Joonie, you didn't have to protect us," Jin said, his voice weak.

"He got into our house once, he left death threats for Jimin, but I got them first. I couldn't risk letting you all get hurt." Namjoon sniffled, seeing how sad his friends looked at his sacrifice for them. "He could have done anything to us when we slept when we weren't home. I couldn't risk it." Namjoon looked up. "Not once I had my baby."

The others all gathered around him close. They hadn't forgotten the seriousness of the conversation, but they knew not to push too hard. Taehyung got down on his knees, looking at the small girl. "What's her name?" He asked with a kind smile. He touched her foot, giving it a cute little shake.

Namjoon frowned and looked down at her. "I...I haven't named her yet." He admitted.

"What? Why not?" Jimin furrowed his brows at the father. The baby must have been a few weeks old by then, and she still didn't have a name.

"I don't know. I couldn't think of a name for her. They all made me sad. Wondering if I was picking the right one for her to have her whole life."

Namjoon looked at her soft little face. She had finally drifted off to sleep, calm from the people surrounding her. "I didn't have anyone to tell me whether it was a good name." The leader shrugged. There was silence again for a moment until the youngest spoke.

"What about Sook-sun?" Namjoon looked to Jungkook, contemplating the name. "It means pureness for Sook and goodness for Sun. It would be pure goodness." The suggestion warmed Namjoon's heart.

He thought about it for a while, looking back at his baby. He gave a small chuckle when her nose wiggled in her sleep. "Sook-sun. I love it." He smiled brightly. Jungkook grinned at the two, happy to be able to help.

"It's a beautiful name for a beautiful girl," Jin said, placing a hand on Namjoon's shoulder. "She is pure goodness to us all," Tae added.

Namjoon felt his heart soar. His friends were amazing. Not even knowing about the little baby for more than an hour, they all looked down at her with endless love.

"You're an amazing parent Joon-ah." Hoseok admired the leader's skill. "She's such an amazing little human already." He added, happy to be able to make Namjoon smile wider. "We won't let her be alone again, and neither will you," Jimin said strongly.

The tone of the voice made shivers run down Namjoon's back. "We are going to sue that man for everything he's worth. You're coming home with us, and we aren't accepting no." Yoongi insisted, crossing his arms, so they knew he really meant it.

"H-how can I go back?" Namjoon asked quietly. "I can't be in the band with a baby. Not to mention I've lost all talent I had. I'll be right back at square one." Namjoon sighed, but the others scoffed.

"Lost your talent? As if you ever could." Hoseok chuckled at the stupid words of the leader. "Joon-ah, you have more talent in your little finger than anyone else could." Namjoon looked up with sparkling eyes. He hated that he wanted to cry once again, but his hormones were still a mess. "Nothing could stop us from wanting you to come back, Hyung. We will all help you with Sunni." Namjoon smiled at his baby's nickname already.

"We will work everything out." Taehyung looked at the others, seeing them all agreeing with him. They would bring Namjoon home...

Because they would never leave him behind. They found him now, and he wasn't going anywhere again. They were always 7.

[yours-the-author]

Glamrock Mr. Hippo's Debut

I've never posted a fanfic to tumblr before (surprise), but I'm going to try and do it right now! Let's see how this goes down...

Summary: In which Glamrock Mr. Hippo becomes the star of the show instead of Monty Gator, after the FNAF Security Breach ending where Glamrock Freddy and Gregory escape the Pizza Plex.

Ever since the Pizza Plex had been shut down unexpectedly on the previous Saturday morning, rumors had been flying. The statement Fazbear Entertainment had released in the wake of shutting the doors just as quickly as they had opened certainly didn’t help matters:

“Uh oh! Glamrock Freddy had decided to take a break from the stage for an indeterminate amount of time. We will be closing the Pizza Plex temporarily while the band takes a break to regroup. We will reopen as soon as possible, but until then, thank you for choosing to spend your hard-earned money and time with your loved ones at our establishment! –Fazbear Entertainment”

What could this possibly mean? Parents were suddenly tasked with consoling their screaming children as they wept at the apparent loss of Glamrock Freddy. Would Freddy come back? Would Freddy be replaced? Who would replace Freddy? Who could replace Freddy? The Pizza Plex was named after him, after all; who could possibly take up a mantle such as his?

Some people theorized that Monty Gator would take over as the star of the show. Others suspected that Roxanne Wolf would take center stage, as a clever way to keep in the good graces of the young female audience. Still others said that it would be someone—or something—else entirely.

The rumors ran so rampant, the story so exciting, that a few news reporters and camera crews had arrived at the Pizza Plex amidst the crowds pouring back into the Pizza Plex auditorium, in order to tell the world about this exciting event as it developed.

Finally, it was time. The lights dimmed as people desperately tried to hush their whispers, peering at the stage with baited breath. Three spotlights turned on one by one, illuminating the band members: Montgomery Gator, Roxanne Wolf, and Glamrock Chica, stylishly serenading the crowd with their electrifying instruments. The crowd cheered along, warming up to the sweet, sweet rock music that sent deep, resounding beats into the very building, shaking it rhythmically from the highest floor to the deepest basement below.

A fourth spotlight appeared, focused on a mysterious red curtain shimmered in the neon rainbow lights. There were screams of excitement. Children shook their glowsticks frantically. A newborn baby wept with nameless joy.

The curtains opened with a near silent snap.

The music stopped playing.

Everyone in the audience was dead quiet.

All of the lights went out, except for the single spotlight focused on a single character holding a triangle in their hands. They tapped the triangle once, the echoing metal ting reverberating around the auditorium.

Finally, the new face of Fazbear Entertainment spoke:

“My friends, it seems that your journeys have led you all here,” said Glamrock Mr. Hippo. “Eh, you know, it’s—it’s pretty exciting, I think. It’s been a while since I’ve been onstage… You know, I used to be on stage more frequently, but, you know, when you get as old as I am, you start thinking that your time in the sun has come and gone, and, well, life, life goes on.”

“This, uh, this actually reminds me of something I was saying the other day to my good friend, Orville. We were, the two of us, we were, ah, we were sitting in the food court the other day, watching the security bots go up and down the stairs and the halls. Up and down, up and down. Y-you know, I thought the whole thing was kind of, honestly kind of funny, and I said to Orville: ‘Friend, you ever think about how life is just a series of ups and downs, like a flight of stairs?’”

“A-and he looked at me, y’know, with those beady little eyes of his, and he says, ‘I didn’t realize you had to walk up and down the stairs so much, friend.’ Now, see, he had misunderstood me, thinking I was talking about moving up and down in a physical way, but the truth is, I was, I was talking metaphorical-like. I mean sure, I have to walk up and down the stairs and such to get around in life, but I meant, uh, I meant that sometimes good things happen, and sometimes bad things happen, and uh, you know, sometimes it happens one after the other, like a flight of stairs going up and down. Or a roller coaster. Ooh, did you know there’s a roller coaster at the Pizza Plex now? Yeah, they—they added that sometime over the weekend, very fun, I could ride it all day. What was I sayin’?”

“Oh yes, yes; I said to Orville, I says: ‘No, friend, I meant how sometimes in life, eh, y’know, a good thing will happen to you, and life will look like it’s on the up-and-up, but uh, on the other hand, sometimes, sometimes something bad will happen to you, and it feels like everything’s going downhill. And, uh, it just feels like that all life really is; ups and downs that just keep going on and on, and on, and on, and on, and so on until we die. D’you get what I’m saying, friend?’”

“Orville looked at me for another moment, kinda odd-like, and then he preceded to pull a delightful picnic basket out of his hat—he’s a magician, you know? Well, actually, he used to be a magician, he’s retired now. Still has that magic touch, though—uh… and, uh, and set it on the table between us. ‘I think you need to focus on eating for a minute, instead of watching those security bots move around, friend.’ That’s what he said to me, and you know? I think he was right; watching those darned security bots go up and down the stairs was making me dizzy. But it got me thinking, as we ate our picnic lunch—a sandwich for me, some rye bread for Orville—it got me thinking about how we all have our ups and downs in life, and sometimes it happens so much that we get dizzy, but uh, you know, sometimes we, we just have to take a minute to look away from it all and, and enjoy a nice picnic lunch with our good friends.”

“Now, you may be asking yourself the question—actually, you may be asking yourself a lot of questions, questions like—like why Orville likes rye bread when he can’t eat sandwiches, o-or what year it is, or how someone like me managed to become the lead musician for a colorful rock band like this one that you’ve come all the way here to watch—and uh… well. For those first two questions, at least, there’s uh… there’s really no good answers to those questions, but as for that last one—and I said this to Orville, too, this what I said to him—maybe we’re going back up on this roller coaster called ‘life.’”

. . . Ting!

The crowd erupted into applause as the curtain closed in front of the new face of Fazbear Entertainment. News reporters spoke excitedly into their microphones, eyes shining with unshed tears at the sheer spectacle they’d been privy to, as their cameramen panned over the standing ovations sweeping across the stands. The three band members played an incredibly moving closing number on their instruments, tears sliding down their plasticky cheeks and the entire auditorium bore witness to this amazing performance. Children wept, for their lives had peaked at that very moment. Teenagers fell to their knees in solidarity of their new hero. A blind man smiled, for though he could not see, he knew that he had witnessed true beauty. A security guard, once trapped by her inner demons, was freed by the ravishing sights and sounds she had seen. An old spirit, far away from the crowds and yet still able to feel the resounding importance of the show, would not come back anymore.

Felp Reviews:

“Astounding! Lifechanging! The inspiring new face of Fazbear Entertainment has earned his praises!” –Time Magazine

“I laughed, I cried… this performance moved me to feel emotions I didn’t existed! Five stars!” –Queen Elizabeth II

“My crops have been blessed, my plagues cleared, and my dead dog, brought back to life! I will rename him Mr. Hippo, after the hero that appeared like a light in the darkness to save me from despair and agony.” –Guy with a Previously Dead Dog

“I can’t believe I ever thought my Mr. Hippo magnet was worthless! I wish I was magnetic, so I could put Mr. Hippo on my body and take him with me where ever I go!” –Gregory

“MARRY ME MR. HIPPO!!!!! <3 swoon <3” –FNAF Fan who Needs to go Outside

The End!

[beats-it]

Grace and Grounding.

Keegan lounged on the couch and stared at Venetia who was dancing around the living room light footed and with great poise. Having just been accepted into a well-known dance school which she had aspired to for so long, it was understandable why she was in such good spirits. Every twirl and every jump meant something more wary as she is finally on the path to achieving her dream of becoming a professional ballet dancer.

Keegan looked at her in wonder. For Venetia, ballet was much more than a mere pastime activity. It was something worth getting up for, her driving force. He recalled all the hours when she practiced late in the night, exhausting herself, making each motion perfect. He remembered the way she wept when things did not go exactly as planned, the victorious moments when she finished routines that left everyone in astonishment. Today, that was the reward for all such efforts.

After performing a particularly attractive pirouette, Venetia flopped on the sofa beside him and panted even though her face shone with happiness. It was still hard for her to get to terms with the fact that she had qualified for the elite academy and the feeling was evident in her face.

“Oh my God, I cannot bear to think about this any longer”. To paraphrase what she said when holding her acceptance letter with both hands as though it was self desktop.

“I mean it, Keegan.” The man later said while looking smiling warmly at her. “You’ve invested your time and effort into this and now you are in the process of pursuing what you love.”

Venetia smiled, but there was a nagging feeling in her head. “What if it doesn’t work out? What if, when I get there, others are better than me? This is much greater than anything I’ve achieved.”

Keegan's gaze met her eyes as he positioned himself fully before her, his features serious but warm. “You’ve got this, Venetia. You’re more than good enough, in fact you’re great. Anytime you think otherwise, I’ll remind you how many times in the past you’ve proved me wrong. And even if you don’t get it right, who does anyway? It’s a road one is bound to take. I am going to be there, right with you, standing there and shouting at you.”

Venetia rested her head onto his shoulder in appreciation of his steadiness felt inside her. She could always rely on Keegan, but still, it was nice to hear that and, she doesn't know, feel stronger, less scared about what was waiting for her. He had been with her for every single practice, every contest and now this, he would be with her when she turned to the next page.

Keegan stood with a grin on his face after a brief pause. “Alright, no more jitters. Time to celebrate tonight.”

Venetia turned to him, intrigued. “Celebrate what?”

Keegan raised an eyebrow at her. “As I said, I have been making plans. First of all, your favourite wine is waiting for you. Afterwards, we are going to be ordering food from that small Italian place you cherish because, let us face it, one can never celebrate properly without some pasta.”

Venetia laughed, feeling much better than she already was.

“We can do that,” Keegan went on, “and then we are going to sit down and watch a movie. I was thinking of ballets. Perhaps Black Swan? Center Stage? Or something completely different if the ballet thing is over for you for the evening.”

Venetia's heart grew more generous. It was always the case that Keegan could always come to the rescue in devising ways of comforting her without crossing the line of being overbearing. “You actually, um, planned all of this?”

Keegan shrugged. “Of course. It has taken you a lot of hard work to reach where you are and hence the reason to celebrate. Besides, any opportunity to pamper you is worth it don’t you think?”

She smiled and drew him towards her. “I have no idea what I will do without you.”

Keegan’s arms wrapped around her soft body as well. “Well, good thing you won’t have to find out. I am not going anywhere.”

That night, when their order for the celebratory meal had come and they toasted with their glasses of wine, Venetia found herself thinking about how fortunate she was. They hooked up on the couch with a movie on the ballet on the background and Venetia with her head on Keegan’s chest.

As the night wore on, Keegan stole a few glances at her from time to time and felt happy that her heart was full. Knowing how much efforts she put into achieving her goals made him adore her even more. And he was firmly resolved that even so, he would be there for all the troubles no matter how many came next, whether it required him to clear out a few spare couches in the living room to make place for her practice or whether sitting comfortably right in the front row at her every performance.

They celebrated her achievement that evening, but to Keegan, it wasn’t just about the accomplishment, it was about seeing her smile, watching her feel fulfilled and joyful. His own happiness revolved around hers, and every laugh, every contented sigh from her made him feel complete.

Note: Wrote this because... yeah that. But whatever, I love you!