#will i ever be normal about the insane response to this fic???? ABSOLUTELY NOT

[existwound]

something something ch3 of tbitm!!!! beach episode or whatever they call it these days

[prismdewdrop]

dangerous territory 

Summary: jason todd may be exhausted after a long night of vigilance, but if you've stayed up late just to talk to him, he's going to make sure he knows exactly why.

or: jason and reader are both idiots and should probably just kiss, but they're idiots, so they do... whatever this is instead.

Pairing: Jason Todd x gn!reader 

Word count: 2.9k

Warnings: mention of jason's death, mention of dead animals (in reference to the plot of john wick)

Tags: roommates in love, late-night conversations, mutual pining, jason is a little bit of an asshole (affectionate), he's not beating the little shit allegations, jason todd loves reader and is soo not normal about it, pov jason todd, everyone is 18+

A/N: long-time jason todd lover, first-time fic writer!

this work was inspired by @notnotacowpoke 's roommatesverse with jason, and they've been absolutely amazing with betaing and just going insane with me over this. you can read their work on ao3 :))

please feel free to leave your thoughts in the comments or in the tags! thanks for reading <3

edit (a big thank you): omg thank you so much for the response, everyone! i genuinely can't believe my first fic on a sideblog got so much of a reaction, and I'm so, SO grateful. my inbox is open for your thoughts or requests for jason and his roommate reader! i'd love to say hi and explore this au some more!

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"Jay?" 

The sleep-soft call melts the night and the pain away. 

Halting his lonely trek to his room, Jason Todd turns towards your voice. A fresh bruise catches at the quickness of his movement, but he tucks away the wince into the back of his throat.

You're standing at your door, peering into the dark in his direction.

"Yeah, babe?" 

A low hiss makes it out of his throat as the endearment falls from his mouth. He waits to see if you caught it. You sounded exhausted, drowsy with much-needed sleep, and even in your apartment, the city was never quiet. Whether you heard it or not, though, you don't acknowledge it, waiting to hear a confirmation from him.

His heart aches for a split second, recognizing the fatigue in your voice, like the second skin he wears every day, accompanied by the tinge of fear that keeps him alive – and keeps you waiting to hear for sure if it's him.

"It's me. What's up?" he says again, louder this time.

You open the door wider, stepping more clearly into his view, just a little past the doorway. One side of your face and body is splashed in the ever-glistening lights of the city that leaks into your apartment in a haze of light gray.

The patch of light helps, and so does his helmet's night vision.

He can see you now, and like always, a breath catches in his throat–even rumpled with sleep, you look lovely and soft.

To you, he knows that he's just a larger patch of darkness against the dimness of your shared living room.

"You're back earlier than I thought you would be," you say finally.

He can see the concern flit over your face as you do your best to scan him in the darkness, checking in vain for any obvious wounds or hurts. He watches as your concern deepens when you're unable to make out anything in the dark, still reluctant to ask him to step into the light

"Slow night," he shrugs. 

He steps closer to you, not fully into the light but close enough that you can make out more of his form. He sees the relief wash over your face and your shoulders loosen a little as you clock his unaffected stride and note the lack of any visible wounds. He doesn't mention his new bruise. And he won’t, at least not until you tell him what it is that has kept you up so late. 

"I – well, I was waiting for you to come back..." 

A pause. 

You pull your lip between your teeth, eyes darting over his face, shoulders climbing towards your ears with tension. He can practically see your mind whirring, and he can see the exact moment you decide against finishing your sentence. Your eyes drop, and your shoulders with them. 

A sigh. 

Then: a small smile.

"I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Which... you are. Clearly. I think. At least, you look—"

You stop yourself, realising that you were babbling. With a pasted-on sheepish smile and an awkwardly cheery wave, you turn towards the door. 

"Well! You must be tired, get some rest. I'll see you tomorrow morning!"

The forced cheer cuts through your fatigue for only a few seconds as you rush the words out and turn towards your room, and he sees the corners of your mouth dipping down the moment you think he can't see your face. You're not a bad liar, by any means. It just so happens that most of the time you're together, you're the only thing Jason sees.

"No."

"What?"

Confusion contorts your face as it snaps to look at him again. Your eyebrows knit together, lips pursing and pushing out into a pout. It's cute, and he's quite sure you have no idea you do this.

"I'm going to camp right out here," he gestures at the (incredibly uncomfortable) couch as he looks straight at you, challenge evident in his voice and in the set of his squared shoulders – "And I am not resting until you tell me what you need."

You frown, lips pressed together into a tight line. You're weighing his response, trying to piece together just how serious he is. Jason reaches up to unclasp his helmet, lifting it off and letting you see that there's very little humor in his eyes – just enough to soften you into spitting out what you really wanted to say — but not enough to let this go.

That's enough for you, though, even in the limited light. Only three months of cohabitation and somehow the both of you could read each other just as well as the stacks of books that crowded the apartment – well worn, annotated, so many of them in various states of disarray, torn and stained and bent, nearly all with cracked spines, but still so so beloved.

He can read you a little better, though, what with his years of vigilance and, well. Everything else that followed.

Jason knows you – the same way he knows the locations of all of Bruce's safe houses, or the exact number of times he could call Tim 'the replacement' before something heavy would be launched at his head. That is to say, concerningly well.

There wasn't a twitch of your eyebrow or a blush or a glare or an angry press of your lips against each other, or a quirk of them (he may have studied your lips especially well) that he hadn't committed to memory, that he didn't know by heart. He wonders if you know, and he wonders what you'd think if you did.

Another sigh, your shoulders sag further, and he makes a mental note to take you through some exercises to improve your truly terrible posture.

"Jason, it's really nothing that can't wait till morning, I just –"

"Come on, dude," He scoffs, not unkindly. "I know you wouldn't have stayed up so late if it wasn't important enough to keep you up."

He nods at the dregs of coffee in the mug you'd forgotten on the centre table for emphasis. There's no hiding from the world's third (or maybe fourth?) best detective that it's the special, strong type that you usually reserve for the most daunting of deadlines.

You swallow up the rest of your words and let out a huff. This time, it's more frustrated than tired, and he can see the flash of irritation in your eyes. You glance away from him, arms coming up to clasp your elbows, encircling yourself in a loose hug. Discomfort radiates off of you in waves, and as you sink your teeth into your lips again; he notes the steady rise of your shoulders towards your ears.

A flash of annoyance goes through him. Not at you — never at you — but whatever new inconvenience this city has wrought for you. Whatever it is that has you up and walking around at 3 AM in the morning after a draining day of work and study and worrying about him.

He fights the urge to step closer, to wrap his hands around your shoulders, smoothing the bare skin and loosening the tightness in them. It would be so easy — there's barely four feet between the two of you, in a few steps he could be holding you and —

He stops himself from following that particular train of thought.

Red Hood faces open gunfire head-on almost daily. Sometimes, he even takes an explosion or two to the face. Then there was the time he'd died, followed by all the times he'd almost died. And he still couldn't remember the last time he'd felt true, bone-deep fear.

But this, this was dangerous territory he was terrified of treading. Yet he was unable to deny the existence of the temptation, always tugging on something in his chest like a low undercurrent, occasionally crashing over him in a wave of desire to touch and protect and hold. To slip his fingers through yours, through your hair, over your lips, between them.

He wonders if you know how easily he can read you, see the way your mind is running through excuses and half-truths to throw him off right now, extricate yourself from this uncomfortable situation and put a safe distance between you again. He should let you do it, really. Even you know that this territory is... not for you. Which is why you were now teetering at its edge after taking these few hesitant steps towards it – him.

But still. He can't ignore the tug. He can deny the waves, stop himself with a savage jerk on his mental reins. That low undercurrent, however – he nurses it, lets it guide him. He has to. It hasn't been long since you met, but he already doesn't know what he would do without it guiding him back to you, day after night after day, painful blow after near-death encounter.

And so he narrows his eyes at you, ready to counter anything you say that isn't the truth.

He feels like a dick; he really does – dangling his well-being in front of you to get you to just stand up and say it. He does this sometimes, pushing you and inconveniencing you – borderline bullying you into being honest with him.

But he knows he's right to be doing this. You have enough fire in you to push back when need be, when he crosses a line, and knowing you, you would've stormed back into your room without a backward glance and with a slam of your door, if whatever this was wasn't bothering you so much.

"I..." You paused to glare at him, just to show him that even if you were playing along, you did not appreciate playing his games.

Jason hides his smile and just raises his eyebrows.

Hands clenching into fists, you glare up at the ceiling as you wrestle with your words, as if hoping for divine intervention.

Another sigh, this time an admit of defeat.

"Fine – but I'm warning you – it's stupid –"

"With you, roomie, I doubt it is."

"Jason, can you please stop interrupting me? I'm really trying here."

Jason raises his palms in a silent apology, an acknowledgement of his dickish behavior, saving the real sorries for later.

You nod in acceptance.

"Okay." Deep breath. "I just wanted to... show you something. And spend some time with you. You know, because we haven't been able to catch up lately and I –" You stop, voice strangling around the next words, catching yourself. You take a breath before continuing. "And I could really use your... insights."

Your voice trails off, and he can feel you wince internally as you slip into impersonal corporate speak, an effort to avoid any words that were more intimate than they had the right to be.

Jason knows. Or at least he can make a damn good guess as to what the words you'd struggled to choke off were. He knew, sure as hell, it wasn't ‘insights ’, but acknowledging the unsaid words was very much stepping into the dangerous territory. And like you had when he slipped up and called you babe, he doesn't.

If he felt anything less than what he did feel, he would have joked about it, said something like: "Aww, bestie, I miss you too". Then you would laugh and shake your head and you would slip back into the easy camaraderie that had marked the beginning of your relationship – before Jason had started noticing the precise way in which the hearts that you signed your notes off with varied in size and number depending on the mood you were in, or the way your hand reached for his every time you crossed a road together.

So instead, he says nothing. He just waits.

"I'll be in my room," you say, arms wrapping around yourself again, a blush rising steadily up your neck and onto your cheeks. You nod at his gear. "Whenever you're ready, just come in. I'll be up."

Oh. They were to be alone. In your room. Probably on the bed. No, definitely on the bed. There's no space for a desk or chair in rooms that come with apartments in this part of Gotham, especially the ones affordable for students. No, there's only one place they can sit comfortably together.

Not that they haven't sat on your bed – or his bed – together before. They have, countless times. They've cuddled and huddled, most times with a pile of snacks for company.

On the days they'd given up on any possibility of productivity, they'd marathoned all their comfort movies and franchises before falling asleep, arms around each other, legs tangled, and depending on who'd had the worst week, a head tucked under another's chin, lead gently into slumber by the comforting rhythm of a heartbeat.

They'd binged Lord of the Rings (NOT The Hobbit series; you both agreed that that was a waste of time, though Jason had stronger, angrier feelings towards it than you did), almost all the Austen adaptations (you could never decide which Emma you liked better – the one with Anya Taylor Joy had the beautiful production and a great depiction of the relationship between Emma and Harriet, but the one with Gwyneth Paltrow had a certain charm, and the leads good chemistry); John Wick that one time – he'd adored the way you'd poked him and asked him if he could do/had done some of the particularly impressive stunts (he could, and you'd been thoroughly impressed); Fast and Furious – only till the sixth one though – Jason personally thought Fast Five was where they should have ended their binge, but you were partial to the sixth one (because of the romance, you said), and Jason had grudgingly accepted it's merits. 

That was, what, at least 40 hours of just watching movies? And that didn't even include the time they'd spend just hanging out together, reading silently, or watching something on their own (though one of them would inevitably end up joining the other).

No, he's definitely been in your bed, comfortable with the tugging undercurrents of longing in every laugh you shared, the way you'd sniffled unfailingly at the last march of the Ents, and when his eyes watered at the ride of the Rohirrim, the way you'd both sighed at Darcy's confession, and when you'd turned to Jason as you watched John Wick lay waste to New York's criminal underworld in revenge for his dead dog, and ask: 

"You'd do this for me, right?"

"Absolutely."

"Okay, good. I'd maybe hire someone to do this for you, since you know. I can't kill a man with my bare hands."

You could kill a man with your smile, though, Jason remembered thinking. You killed him a little every day and brought him back just as well, each time just a little bit more whole than the last time he'd been brought back to life.

Sure, he'd been in your bed. But not like this, not when the darkness of the night had melted that thing in his chest – the thing that searched for you the moment he woke up – and brought it out from where it was safe in its cage, to the back of his mouth, the tips of his fingers, the pupils of eyes – poised right on the edge of saying, doing, showing the wrong thing.

Say no, the admittedly miniscule part of his brain that didn't leap to fulfill your every wish insisted. They've given you an out already. Just say you're more tired than you look and talk tomorrow. This isn't just treading - this is running blind and unarmed into dangerous territory. Say no.

But... they miss me, the overwhelmingly persuasive part of him that ached to sweep that particularly unrepentant loose curl into place every day reminds him. They're up and they're worried and they want me to come talk to them because they miss me. I miss them.

His heart twists. He can't say no, never could.

Jason wonders if you know that he would walk into a shootout blindfolded, without armor and with a grin, if that could bring you anything worthwhile. He turns a fond smile your way, his careful expression melting away. 

Your breath catches as the corners of his mouth lift. When Jason smiles like that, his eyes crinkle, they shine at you as if you're all he sees, and it was heartachingly beautiful in it's rarity.

Jason's smile was a golden patch of sun on a cold day; you're powerless in its wake to do anything except curl up in its warmth and bask – always longing for more and more. 

"You know I wouldn't say no to that. I'll be right there,” he says with all the seriousness of a wedding vow.

You fight the urge to linger, to drink in his smile with your eyes and infuse every inch of your body with it's sweetness. You force a small smile of your own and with a wiggle of your fingers, you return to your room, feeling his gaze settle on you until you close the door behind you gently.

He doesn't hear the click of the lock, and so when he heaves his own sigh of defeat, it's in the safety of his own room, between him and the busy silence of the city.

[lazycats-stuff]

Hi! I loved your male Y/N x Bruce Wayne Cadmus clone fic. Is there any way you could make a part 2? Maybe the clone comes to live with them and then they have to explain to the rest of the family who they are and help them adjust to living with the Batfamily. Also Ra’s maybe pops in from time to time and the clone starts to become protective over Y/N when it comes to others, especially Ra’s creepiness. Thx!!!

Oh I can. Sorry that this took so long though... I love the idea though. Also, PART 1 is linked to this. And it will be under Bruce Wayne masterlist, since the part 1 is there. Just so there isn't any confusion. And yes, the same GIF because I can't be bothered today.

Summary: (Y/N) is rather protective of one of his dads.

Warnings:

It has been a few months since the clone, well, the boy came to live with them to the manor. Of course, explaining to the boys who he was and how he came to be wasn't an easy task. And it turns out it wasn't. Sitting them all down was easy enough. (Y/N) broke the news and the response was not receptive.

All of them were confused, shocked, Damian was absolutely disturbed. So much so, he stormed out of the room and slamming the door of his room. And if Damian can't control his emotion like that, you know he's not okay. (Y/N) sighed, burying his face into his hands.

(Y/N) loved his sons so much and seeing them upset made him upset. At this point, he wondered if this was a bad idea. He couldn't bear to see a rift in his family. Bruce patted his back, then gently rubbed his shoulder in comfort.

" I'm going to check on him. " (Y/N) said, trying to compose himself before he went to see Damian. Bruce kissed his cheek squeezing his shoulder in comfort before letting go and turning to his other sons.

" I know this is all... Insane to say the least, but the clone is a human who deserves a shot at life. " Bruce crossed his arms and (Y/N) has left to look for Damian, knowing exactly where he went. (Y/N) gently knocked on the door, listening to inside noises.

" Dames, can I come in? " (Y/N) asked softly and he sighed in relief once he heard a yes, although a faint one

(Y/N) entered and then closed the door behind him. Damian was curled in the bed, Titus curled around him. (Y/N) smiled at the sight and sat down where there was actual space left for him. He started gently scratching Damian's scalp.

" I know that the news upset you, but he is nothing like Ra's. only by his hair and eyes. And would I ever lie to you Dames? " (Y/N) started softly and Damian sighed.

" No baba. "

" Good. The boy needs a chance in life too. Just like you had to escape the League so you can have a semi normal life with us. Okay? You know that you kiddos are my number one priority. And he is a kid in trouble. So please, don't worry about it. Okay? " (Y/N) asked and Damian nodded, gently patting Titus.

" Good. " (Y/N) kissed Damian's forehead and decided to leave him be for now. (Y/N) quickly went back down to check how Bruce was faring. The other 3 boys were simply calm. Talking to Bruce about their questions and concerns.

(Y/N) walked up to his other 3 sons, giving them each a hug. " If anyone is worried about Damian, he is fine. He was just a bit upset. Worried that the boy will be like Ra's. " (Y/N) explained and everyone nodded and Bruce turned to hold (Y/N) by the waist.

" Anyway, I can't believe that Ra's is in the mix. " Jason said and Tim nodded.

" The bastard has got more excuses to get closer to you dad. And I don't like it. " Tim said and (Y/N) gently scratched Tim's scalp.

" Tim, I can take care of myself. I understand the worry, but Bruce trained me, " (Y/N) said and Tim nodded.

" Doesn't mean we don't worry dad. " Dick stood up to get some water.

" And if Ra's shows up, you know where to find my guns. " Jason added as he took out his phone and Bruce sighed as he squeezed (Y/N)'s hips.

" I swear, everyone in this house will put me into my grave. " Bruce muttered kissing (Y/N)'s cheek. (Y/N) smile and lean on Bruce.

" I love you too. "

It has been a few months since the clone, well, the boy came to the manor. The transition wasn't really easy. The boys seeing their enemy in the poor boy wasn't easy and Bruce and (Y/N) knew that full well. It wasn't going to be easy and the two made sure that the boy felt comfortable.

And yes, the clone is still looking for a name so they don't call him, yo, bro, dude. All of these were used by the first 4 sons, not by Bruce and (Y/N), just for the record. Just a quick FYI. (Y/N) really tried to make sure that the boy was more comfortable. He made sure of it.

And the rest of the boys too, don't take it wrong.

This particular evening, (Y/N) had a rare night off and has decided to spend his time reading a book in the living room, under a blanket, on the comfiest sofa that money can buy. the clone was somewhere near, not particularly fond of being alone. The boy was working on that with Black Canary, who turned into his therapist.

Either way, it was going rather well and (Y/N) won't complain about it. As long as it's going well, although with a few bumps, he won't complain about anything. (Y/N) was well into the book, enjoying it when he heard Alfred's voice.

" Master (Y/N), Ra's al Ghul is here, " Alfred announced and (Y/N) groaned as he put a piece of paper in between the pages so he could know where to go of on. Then he closed the book, turning his head to look at Ra's. The smug bastard was there, standing near the kitchen table.

Ra's has been here a few times before, to see (Y/N) and to see the extent of the genetics at work. (Y/N) would often sneakily leave the manor at the time, not in the mood to look at Ra's or to even talk to him. He wanted to die rather than to see the old bastard.

Unfortunately, Bruce and the birds were out patrolling, so any backup, if we don't include the boy, is gone.

" Ah, it seems you are alone (Y/N). " Ra's said and (Y/N) wanted to scoff. " The detective is out and about on patrol it seems. " Ra's noted and (Y/N) forced himself not to sigh.

" Why are you here? To annoy me? "

Ra's chuckled then shook his head.

" Always blunt. I'm here to see the boy. Does he have a name at least? "

" He didn't choose one yet. " (Y/N) stood up, adjusting his shirt. He was in one of Bruce's shirts and some nice sweatpants. If he knew that the bastard was coming, he would have changed. Into something more practical to fight in. And not feel that exposed. Bruce was a huge man and (Y/N) was tall, but more lean so... Bruce's shirts may or may not expose some shoulder and some chest.

Either way, he didn't like being ogled by anyone but Bruce. This was for his eyes only. (Y/N) fixed the shirt, hiding the spot that Ra's was eyeing hungrily. The boy, the clone stilled in the kitchen, watching and listening in silence. He is ready to fight for his dad, although he hasn't called him dad, he thinks of him as a dad.

And (Y/N) could fight, after all, Ra's' genes, Bruce's genes and (Y/N)'s genes mixed in make a fighter. A great one at that.

Ra's then turned his sights on the boy who was in the kitchen, listening and watching like a hawk.

" Ah, there he is. You still have no name? " Ra's asked, moving closer to the boy.

" I do have a name. It's William. " Now William responded with confidence and (Y/N) was proud. His boy has a name and it's William. He has to let Bruce and the boys know ASAP.

" I see. It seems you got a name... A strong one it seems. "

(Y/N) rolled his eyes, knowing that Ra's wanted (Y/N) to get an Arabic name, but (Y/N) and Bruce put their foot down to anyone who tried to give now William, a name.

It was something that William should have done on his own. It's something that he should have a choice in. It's something empowering in having that choice. Something that everyone should have when their sense of individual self is pushed onto them, when they have no choice in the matter.

Giving yourself a name is something impowering.

" It seems you are doing well in here, " Ra's noted and William nodded, also put off by Ra's. (Y/N) was glad that he wasn't the only one.

" And as for you (Y/N), " Ra's turned to (Y/N), who crossed his arms, " You look lovely tonight. The casual attire you more than official attire you wear at galas and at work I must say. "

(Y/N) wanted to crawl somewhere and die. William crossed his arms, just ready to pounce at Ra's. He could sense the undertone that Ra's was using and didn't like it one bit. He stood behind (Y/N), ready to protect his dad.

Ra's simply raised his brow, but didn't comment on it.

" Well, I have more tasks here in Gotham, so I must get going. " Ra's took (Y/N)'s hand and kissed the back of it, just like he always does and then left.

(Y/N) shuddered once Ra's was out of sight and out of mind.

" You okay dad? " William asked and (Y/N)'s eyes widened, but smiled.

" You called me dad... " (Y/N) said happily, hugging William.

" Not the point dad. He is creepy. "

(Y/N) nodded in agreement. " I know son, he is creepy towards me. My guess is that he has feelings for me, but I'm loyal to Bruce and Bruce only. I can handle the old bastard. " (Y/N) patted William's cheek.

" Don't worry, okay. Now, do you want to watch a movie? " (Y/N) asked and William nodded.

" Alright, choose a movie off of Netflix while I make some snacks. "

[the-mpreg-guy]

You are kidnapped by CW execs, hold on a gunpoint and asked to write a script for Supernatural season 16. What's gonna be the plot?

They don't even have to kidnap me to do this, I'd do it for free. I'd pay THEM to let me do it.

Dean and Sam are still stuck in one of Chuck's mindgames and that he has Jack stashed away somewhere. Dean poking at the walls parallel universes in SPNWN was the beginning of him figuring out that there's something amiss, and Jack's ooc behavior regarding it. Is like. The final nail in the coffin (no pun intended).

The first half of the season would be Dean and Sam splitting up in Heaven to connect with previous spn characters who have died. Sam finds Mary, Bobby, Ellen, Jo, Ash, and then has a sideplot where he runs into Jess and gets closure regarding that. Dean runs into Charlie, Victor, John, and Kevin (to name a few). I really really would love some satisfying conflict between Dean and John, and I would like Sam and Mary to actually Interact and have opinions about each other.

The end of the first arc is Dean finding Jack, so we can get some delicious interactions between the two of them (pls let Jack actually have a Reaction to Cas being dead), and so that they can go absolutely balls-to-the-wall crazy by agreeing to the same stupid, dangerous plan to open the Empty and get Cas back.

Anyway, part 2 of the season is the gang all getting together, dodging Chuck, who starts bringing Angels back to go after Dean and Sam. Dean tells Sam that the plan is to open the Empty and dump Chuck in there, but doesn't mention that he and Jack are also going to jump into the Empty to save Cas (bc Sam would stop him and also I love it when Dean lies to Sam's face). The plan goes stupid bc Sam figures out what's going on and all three of them end up in the Empty.

I don't have exactly any set ideas for how the rest of this happens, but I need them to interact with Crowley and I need Sam and Ruby interactions. Somehow they do a Chuck/Cas Empty swap and get Cas back. I would introduce a new mechanic that the only way to get Cas out of the Empty is to wake him up (the Empty actually gets him to sleep) and so they have to go through Cas's mind to wake him. Jack gets to use his powers and like beam Dean into Cas's mind and I get a self indulgent sexy recap of every single regret that Cas has ever had flashing in front of Dean's eyes.

Anyway something something Dean finds Cas in the barn where they met on earth, something something Cas tells him to leave him there and then obviously Dean gets to say "don't you think you deserve to be saved" and it's vomit inducing. Just as Castiel wakes up, so does the Empty and shit hits the fan.

Cas tries to play mr self sacrifice to get everyone out, but Dean won't let him bc he's sick of that shit. The portal Jack opened is closing, but last minute Dean grabs Cas and their soul/grace interact, recharging Cas back to full power and he flies them out.

Something something, Chuck gets chucked (lmao) into the Empty, something something, Michael/Adam was involved this season, something something either Michael, Amara, or whoever the fuck is in charge of Heaven and not Jack because he deserves to be a normal person without that insane responsibility.

Dean retires and opens a bar, Sam continues hunting and expands the hunter network (and Samwena canon bc istg 🔫), Cas and Jack dont hunt, dont not hunt, but do a secret third thing (commit funny felonies).

Also Destiel canon sex scene. If Jensen Ackles and Misha Collins can hump on stage in front of us, they can take their pants off for a pg-13 sex scene on my monster show.

That's the BROAD strokes of what I would want for a s16. If we're pretending that there are more seasons after s16, then all of that would go a little differently and I wouldn't have Dean quit hunting.

Alternative answer is that I'd submit Shal's s15 finale fix-it fic for a supernatural movie directed by Jensen Ackles.

[isabelckl]

Southside Carl ✶⋆.˚ Interlude: Fifth Grade

carl gallagher x new neighbor!reader

synopsis: moving to Southside Chicago wasn’t part of the plan, but it happened fast after your dad lost his job. What started as a boring summer turned into years of growing up alongside the Gallagher chaos, becoming best friends with Debbie—and something more complicated with Carl Gallagher.

Masterlist ♤

A/N: This flashes back to fifth grade. messy, awkward time where things first started to shift.

genre: angst, slow burn, enemies (friends) to lovers, teen fic, coming of age

⤷ · · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

Detention wasn’t on your schedule. Not today. Not ever.

And yet here you were—elbows on the desk, cheek resting against your palm, doing your best not to make eye contact with the flickering fluorescent lights or the ticking clock that felt like it was mocking you with every second.

You weren’t even the one who did anything.

But none of that mattered to Mr. Dunlap. He walked into class, saw the stink bomb already rolling under the desk, and then looked right at you like it made perfect sense. Like you were finally showing your true colors.

Never mind that you were frozen in your seat, mid-sentence in your stupid group project, or that your lab partner—Carl Gallagher—was nowhere to be found when the stink hit the fan. All it took was your name being next to his on the project sheet.

You tried to explain. Told them it wasn’t you. That you didn’t even know where Carl was during the second half of class.

But Dunlap wasn’t having it. “You were responsible for the materials. The project was under your name. Take accountability.”

Accountability. Like you were supposed to babysit Carl and finish the assignment and dodge the social suicide of being the only one who actually cared about your grades.

So now you were here. In detention. With gum stuck to the underside of your desk, a cracked window that didn’t open all the way, and a teacher too checked out to even notice if you slipped out the back door.

You were halfway through your mental list of “reasons I should drop out and join the circus” when the classroom door creaked open.

And of course. Of course.

Carl Gallagher walked in like he was late to a party, hoodie slung halfway off his shoulder, that same smug look painted across his face like graffiti on a train.

Your jaw tightened.

He wasn’t on the detention list. You knew he wasn’t, because you checked—twice. He wasn’t supposed to be here. This wasn’t even his punishment. It was yours.

And yet, he slid right into the desk next to you like it was reserved.

“Seriously?” you hissed under your breath as he dropped into the seat.

He shrugged. “Heard you were in here.”

You stared at him.

“Decided to join.”

“You what?”

Carl grinned, leaning back like this was fun for him. “Figured if I’m the reason you got screwed, might as well suffer with you. Solidarity, y’know?”

You blinked at him. “You’re insane.”

He tipped his head. “You’re not denying it.”

You rolled your eyes and turned back toward the front, jaw clenched. This was peak Carl. Absolute disaster energy.

There was a beat of silence. Then a quiet flick.

You glanced down. He had slipped a folded piece of paper across your desk.

You hesitated, then opened it.

“Could’ve warned you I left the stink bomb in my hoodie pocket. Thought you saw me switch bags.”

You picked up your pen, scribbled under it.

“I was doing the worksheet. Like a normal human being. What part of this is funny to you?”

He wrote back.

“The part where you’re here and I get to bother you.”

“You’re literally the worst.”

“No, that guy in second period who eats his erasers is the worst. I’m like... top five, max.”

You bit your lip to keep from smiling. But he noticed. Of course he did.

Another note slid your way.

“You looked mad earlier. Like, actually mad.”

You scribbled.

“Because I was. I am.”

“Didn’t mean to get you in trouble.”

You paused, rereading that line. It felt too direct. Too real.

When you looked up at him, he wasn’t smiling anymore.

Just watching you. Steady. Unblinking.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you muttered.

He blinked. “Like what?”

“Like you didn’t just explode my afternoon and get me detention for something you did.”

Carl leaned in slightly, chin resting on his folded arms. “Didn’t think you’d actually get blamed.”

“Well, I did.”

He nodded slowly. “That’s messed up.”

You were about to snap back—sarcastic, sharp, something that would make him shut up—but then he added, quieter:

“I told Dunlap it was me. Said I’d left something in your bag. But he said it was too late. Already logged.”

You froze.

“…You did?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged again, casual, like it didn’t matter. “He said I could serve it anyway if I felt guilty.”

You stared at him, throat tightening with something you didn’t have a name for.

Carl Gallagher didn’t do guilt. He did chaos. He did wild stunts and dumb grins and running from responsibility like it owed him money.

But here he was. Serving detention next to you. Voluntarily.

“…That’s stupid,” you said finally. “You didn’t have to do that.”

He looked at you, a smirk ghosting across his lips.

“You think I wanna spend an hour with a bunch of mouth-breathers in the courtyard?”

You stared.

He grinned. “At least here I get to bother you and steal your snacks.”

You rolled your eyes again, but this time it came with a small, involuntary smile.

The school hallway was almost silent by the time detention ended—just the low buzz of flickering lights and the occasional shuffle of a janitor cart echoing in the distance.

You stepped out of the classroom, shoulders tense, backpack slung low and heavy on your spine. Your name was still scribbled on the detention sheet for something you didn’t even do—and even though Carl sat through it with you, he hadn’t looked even a little guilty.

He was waiting by the water fountain, messing with the spout, trying to spray it sideways like some bored kindergartener. When he saw you, he grinned like nothing happened.

“You're welcome,” he said, casually tossing a rubber band at your chest.

You stopped walking. “For what? Getting me detention?”

“For making it less boring,” he shrugged, falling into step beside you like it was natural. “Could’ve let you suffer alone.”

You rolled your eyes, too tired to argue. The day had been long, and your patience had been thin even before the teacher decided you were the one who planted the stink bomb during science experiment.

“What’s your problem, anyway?” you muttered, tugging your backpack strap tighter. “Do you just like dragging people into your chaos?”

He smirked. “Nah. Just you.”

You looked at him. He looked back. For once, he didn’t smirk wider. Just held your gaze for a beat too long, then turned and shoved his hands into his pockets.

“C’mon,” he said. “Take the shortcut.”

“That’s not the way to my house.”

“It’s still faster.”

“I literally live across the street from you.”

“Exactly,” he said, grinning. “We’ll get there together. Like neighbors.”

You hesitated, then sighed and started walking. But before you could even take five steps, Carl suddenly yanked your backpack strap from your shoulder.

“Hey!” you said, half-turning. “Give it back!”

“Nope.” He slung it over his own shoulder with ease, ignoring your glare. “You’re tired. And you looked like you were gonna tip over. I’m doing you a favor.”

“I didn’t ask for a favor.”

“You also didn’t ask for detention, and yet—here we are.”

You tried grabbing it back, but he twisted away and started walking faster.

“Carl,” you warned.

He looked over his shoulder. “What?”

“Give me my bag.”

He stopped, turned around, and raised his brows. “Say please.”

You stared at him, unamused.

He gave you the most smug, awful grin.

“Fine,” you muttered. “Carry it, then. But if you drop it, I’m putting gum in your hoodie.”

Carl beamed like you’d just declared your love.

“You’re so sweet to me.”

“Shut up.”

The shortcut was more of a back alley behind the strip of old garages, cutting between houses and popping out onto your block. You’d walked it before, but only in the daytime. Now, with the sky turning burnt orange and the streetlights flickering on, it felt a little different. Quieter.

Carl kicked a soda can down the path like a soccer ball. You watched it rattle forward, bounce off a fence, and roll into a puddle.

“You ever think about not being such a menace?” you asked after a while.

“All the time,” he said. “Doesn’t stick.”

You laughed. You didn’t mean to, but you did—and Carl glanced overl. Like he was surprised by you. Like you weren’t someone he could just poke fun at anymore.

“I didn’t even do anything,” you muttered. “And I still got detention.”

Carl didn’t say anything at first. Just pulled a bag of chips from his hoodie pocket and held it out to you.

You looked at him.

“What?”

“I’m not eating your alley pocket chips.”

“They’re hoodie chips. Relax.”

You snorted. But you took one.

He bumped your shoulder. “I didn’t mean for you to get caught. I swear.”

“You never mean it,” you said, licking salt from your fingers. “That’s the problem.”

“Yeah, well... You looked like you needed a break from being a goody-goody.”

You gave him a flat stare. He grinned again, boyish and sharp.

A few minutes passed. The sun dipped lower. Carl walked beside you, surprisingly quiet. Just chewing. Thinking. Then he said,

“You didn’t have to stay, you know. In detention.”

“I didn’t have a choice.”

“You kinda did.”

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you kicked the can he’d been dribbling and watched it clatter down the alley.

“Why’d you come?” you asked. “You didn’t get caught. I was the only name on the list.”

He shrugged, like it was nothing. “Felt like it.”

You stopped walking.

He did too, slowly, like he realized you weren’t following.

“You got yourself in trouble,” you said, “on purpose.”

Carl looked back at you, turning his whole body.

“Maybe,” he said. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“I’m not.”

“You are. You’ve got that look—like I’m some tragic raccoon or something.”

You huffed. “That’s specific.”

“Yeah, well,” he looked at you now, lips twitching, “I know your looks.”

The air was suddenly... different. Still.

He took a step forward, then adjusted your backpack higher on his shoulder like it was his all along.

“Anyway. You’re welcome.”

“Um I'm not exactly thankful.”

“For not letting you be alone, dummy.”

You wanted to say something back—something sharp, something clever—but nothing came. So you just walked beside him the rest of the way in silence.

And when you reached your block, the streetlights had blinked on. Reaching the corner where you usually split ways, Carl paused, then handed you your backpack without a word.

You stared at him. He scratched the back of his neck.

“Next time,” he said, avoiding your eyes, “just throw the stink bomb before the teacher walks in. Rookie mistake.”

You didn’t smile. But you didn’t stop him when he smirked and jogged off down the block, hoodie flapping behind him, already yelling something crude at a passing car.

And you stood there, for a second too long, wondering why your chest felt kind of warm.

Like maybe—just maybe—you weren’t so mad after all.

It was freezing in the classroom. The heating barely worked, and the windows let in more wind than they kept out. You sat curled into yourself, arms crossed tight, trying to take notes without letting your teeth chatter too loudly.

Across the room, Carl sat in his usual slouch—looking completely unaffected. Probably because he never followed the dress code and always wore that stupid hoodie with the sleeves chewed up and the words half faded.

During group work, the teacher made everyone switch partners. You ended up with some kid who kept talking about Minecraft and forgot his pencil. Carl got stuck with the girl who wore glitter eyeshadow and always called him “Gallagross.”

Halfway through the worksheet, your nose was running, your fingers numb. You sniffled and rubbed your hands together. Then, out of nowhere, something landed on your desk.

Carl’s hoodie.

You blinked.

“What,” you said flatly, looking up at him.

He didn’t look at you. Just muttered, “You’re shaking. You’re annoying when you’re cold.”

You stared.

“Take it or don’t,” he added, already walking back to his seat.

It smelled like smoke and bubble gum, but you tugged it on anyway. It was warm. Way too big, but warm.

You didn’t say thank you.

But that was the first time you stopped wishing he’d disappear entirely.

The final bell rang. Chairs scraped back. Everyone shoved notebooks into bags and made a run for it.

Carl was out the door before the teacher even finished their last sentence. Typical.

You moved slower, mostly because your bones still felt like ice cubes. As you swung your bag over your shoulder, you noticed something on Carl’s chair.

A beat-up notebook.

The cover was half-ripped, corners bent, and someone—probably Carl himself—had drawn a stick figure getting eaten by a monster on the front. You grabbed it, sighing. He’d probably accuse you of stealing it tomorrow if you didn’t bring it back.

Outside, the sky had gone from gloomy to apocalyptic. Wind howled through the parking lot, and a second later, rain came hammering down like it had been waiting for the exact moment you stepped out.

You ducked under the stairwell ledge out front, shaking water from your sleeves. The jacket—his jacket—was still wrapped around you.

A few seconds later, Carl appeared, hoodie-less, dripping wet.

“Nice,” he said dryly, shaking his head like a dog. “You jinxed it.”

“I didn’t even say anything.”

“You didn’t have to.”

He flopped onto the bottom step, pulling his knees up to his chest and resting his chin there. You stayed at the top, hugging your bag.

The rain came down harder.

You tried not to feel bad about the jacket. Really, you did. It was his fault for giving it to you. And besides, it wasn’t like he didn’t make your life hell on a weekly basis. If anything, this was interest.

Still, when he sneezed into his sleeve, you winced.

You sat on the top step of the stairwell, hoodie sleeves pulled over your hands, knees tucked up to your chest. The rain hit the metal door a floor below like tiny pebbles, steady and annoying. You didn’t want to admit you were cold again. Especially not while wearing Carl Gallagher’s hoodie.

He was sitting a few steps down, elbows on his knees, head leaned back like he’d melt into the concrete. He hadn’t said anything since the “You jinxed it” comment. Just sat there, half-shivering and pretending he wasn’t.

Your eyes drifted to the notebook in your lap—the one he’d left behind in class like it meant nothing. The cover was scuffed and bent, and the edges were soft from being shoved into a backpack too many times. You flipped it open.

The first page was chaos.

Scribbles, mostly. Some doodles of knives. A very crude drawing of someone falling down stairs labeled “Mr. Reyes when he doesn’t give Carl extra time on tests.” A page with nothing but the word “ASSHOLE” in different fonts. Another with a list:

Debbie owes me 4 dollars

Get back at the chick for calling me Gallagross

Punch Ian (lovingly)

Ask that new girl if she’s scared of possums

You snorted.

“Are you seriously reading my stuff right now?” Carl said, not even looking up.

“It was just sitting there.”

“Yeah. 'Cause I forgot it. That’s not an invitation.”

You flipped another page, ignoring him. This one was… different.

There was a sketch of a dog—kind of boxy, kind of cute—with the name “Meatball” written in all caps underneath. The dog had a speech bubble that said “Screw school.” You almost smiled.

Another page had a drawing of a fridge with a lock on it and the words “REAL FOOD” scrawled across the door. Below that, there was a weird list:

A house with no yelling

A TV that works

Shoes that match

A dog (Meatball)

Some girl to shut up for five seconds maybe

You paused.

Carl finally turned his head. “That’s, like… old. From summer.”

You didn’t say anything. You just gently closed the notebook and placed it between you on the step.

“You’re annoying when you’re nosy,” he muttered.

“You’re annoying when you breathe,” you shot back.

He huffed a laugh but didn’t argue.

Before either of you could say something else, the door creaked open and a teacher poked her head in—Ms. Appleton, the sub who always wore weird earrings shaped like vegetables.

“Oh! You two are still here?” she blinked. “Did you miss your bus?”

You and Carl said absolutely nothing.

Ms. Appleton gave you both a look and tapped the wall. “Well, don’t stay too long or you’ll get locked in. Also—Carl, no graffiti this time.”

“I didn’t do that one,” Carl said, which probably meant he definitely did.

She left. The door slammed shut behind her.

Carl leaned back again with a sigh. “Great. Now she’s gonna tell Lip I’m ‘loitering.’”

You didn’t reply. You just stared at the rain and hugged your knees tighter.

It was still raining when the last bell echoed faintly through the halls. You peeked out the doors, the hoodie pulled over your head like it could somehow transform into an umbrella.

“Great,” you muttered.

Carl stood behind you, hands shoved in his pockets. He looked just as thrilled about it as you did. His hair was already damp, little curls sticking to his forehead.

You glanced sideways. “No umbrella?”

He gave you a look like you’d just asked if he owned a yacht.

You both stood there for a second, watching the rain soak the cracked pavement and flood the corners of the sidewalk.

“Well,” you sighed, pulling the hoodie tighter, “guess I’ll just swim home.”

Carl snorted. “You’d drown in like two inches of water.”

“Says the kid who eats glue.”

“That was one time, and it was experimental.”

You shook your head and took a step out. Cold raindrops immediately slapped your face like nature itself had beef. You froze, turned around, and walked right back inside.

Carl grinned, smug. “Told you.”

“Oh, shut up,” you muttered, dripping.

He looked out again, then shrugged. “Wanna race to the bodega on the corner?”

“You’ll probably trip on purpose and pretend I pushed you.”

“No promises.”

But you were both too cold to wait any longer, so you did it—you ran for it. You didn’t even make it halfway before your shoes were soaked and Carl stepped in a puddle the size of a baby pool and screamed something like “I HATE CHICAGO” with all the passion of a war general.

You ducked under a tiny awning together, both panting, soaked, shivering, and looking like soggy raccoons.

Carl pushed his wet bangs out of his face. “You stole my hoodie and made me get hypothermia. You’re literally a villain.”

“You said take it!”

“Yeah, well, now I’m filing a complaint.”

You both stood there, not moving, rain pounding down around you like static.

And for one weird second, it felt... not awful.

He shook out his arms and said, “Wanna go halfsies on a bag of chips?”

You rolled your eyes. “You don’t even have money, do you?”

Carl grinned. “Nope. Thought you might.”

Typical.

You were still scowling at him when he suddenly turned and started walking down the street without a word. For a second, you just stood there, rain drizzling down your sleeves, unsure if you were supposed to follow. Then Carl glanced back, eyes softer now—almost like a dare, almost like an invitation.

“You coming?” he asked.

It’s cold, the air sharp and biting, but you find yourself trailing behind him anyway. He walks with purpose, like he’s got somewhere to be, but doesn’t say much. You’re a few steps behind, not quite catching up to him, your feet dragging through the wet streets. The rain has slowed, but the puddles have doubled in size.

He leads you down a familiar alley behind a run-down corner store. It’s the kind of alley you’d avoid, but Carl seems like he knows this place too well.

“Wait here,” he tells you as he ducks behind a dumpster, and for a second, you’re genuinely confused.

Before you can finish the thought, Carl’s back out, holding a cardboard box, and he’s looking way too pleased with himself. “Check this out.”

You blink. “What, like some secret stash?”

He shrugs like it’s not a big deal. “Sorta.”

You stare at the box in his hands. When he pulls the top off, you see what’s inside: a collection of random, probably stolen, items. You try to hide your surprise as Carl pulls out a squashed action figure with a missing arm.

“This is what you do with your free time?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

Carl shoots you a half-smile, almost shy for a second. “I like to think of it as… treasure hunting.”

He digs deeper into the box and pulls out a set of broken walkie-talkies and a slingshot with a couple of rocks stuffed inside. There’s also a scribbled-up notebook with crayon drawings that look suspiciously like stick figures of his siblings. He holds it out to you like it’s the most precious thing in the world.

“You think I’m gonna end up in jail, don’t you?”

The question’s so casual, it throws you off for a second. You blink, taken aback by how serious his tone suddenly is. “Uh… I don’t know. Why?”

He gives a little shrug, almost like he’s trying to act nonchalant. “I guess I just end up with stuff like this, and... well, I don’t know. It’s dumb.”

You glance at the random assortment of junk, and then at Carl. For a second, he seems a little less... Carl. A little more like a regular kid who’s just trying to keep everything together.

“It’s not dumb,” you say quietly, but Carl doesn’t look at you when you say it. He’s already stuffing the notebook back into the box, closing it up with one quick motion.

“Whatever. Let’s go to our house. You owe me pizza,” he adds, as if the moment never happened.

You hesitated, but only for a beat. Showing up to your place soaked to the bone wasn’t exactly appealing—your dad would ask questions you didn’t feel like answering. And honestly? The idea of drying off somewhere that wasn’t freezing cold didn’t sound half bad.

So when Carl jerked his head toward the corner and started walking, you fell into step beside him.

The walk back to Carl’s place is quick, your shoes splashing in the wet streets, but you can’t seem to shake off the weird feeling. Something about that moment with the junk box and his sudden vulnerability had you thinking, but Carl doesn’t give you much time to ponder.

When you get to the Gallagher house, you’re immediately hit with the familiar chaos. You stop just outside the door, looking at Carl. “So, uh, I’m just supposed to, what, walk in?”

He shoots you a grin that says it all. “Yep. Welcome to the circus.”

You step inside, and it's like walking into an entirely different world. The living room is a mess of toys, broken furniture, and the faint smell of burnt food. Liam’s in the corner, sobbing quietly while clutching a stuffed animal. Fiona’s running around with her hair a mess, trying to cook dinner while answering a call, and Lip is passed out on the couch, textbook splayed across his chest like he’s been sleeping in the middle of a lecture.

Debbie, however, is the one who greets you first. “Well, look who decided to show up,” she says with a raised eyebrow, her hands full of what looks like a failed attempt at a craft project. “You need a towel or something?”

You nod, but before she can go grab you one, Carl’s already tossing you a ratty towel from a pile in the corner. “You’ll live.”

You take the towel, awkwardly drying your hair as Carl makes his way over to Liam, who’s still crying. You overhear Carl telling him, “I swear, if I catch you crying again, I’m taking your toys and throwing them out the window.”

Liam looks at Carl, sniffling, then slowly nods, wiping his eyes.

You can’t help but chuckle at the absurdity of it all. Here you are, sitting in a house that could easily be the set of a sitcom, Carl Gallagher—wild, unpredictable Carl—acting like a weird mix of caretaker and troublemaker.

“Thanks for the towel,” you say, feeling a bit weird about it. He doesn’t respond, just leans against the wall, clearly not interested in a thank-you.

And then, in the middle of everything, you catch Carl looking at you for a moment. His eyes soften just a bit, but then he quickly looks away, like he didn’t want you to notice.

But you did.

[harmyyyy]

Y'all, I'd like to kindly ask someone who likes to write fanfiction and is a fan of jjk, please take this idea and make it a reality🙏 I can't write for crap and want this idea to actually be written😭😭 if you write it please tag me so I can read it (also if you know any fics like this please lmk🙏)

So here's my idea:

So it is based on a song, but I came up with a kind of spin-off of it. The song is The Ballad of Sara Berry. If you've never heard it, basically, the premise of the song is Sara Berry is like THE MOST popular girl in school, she has everything going for her, a hot boyfriend, friends, cheer captain, the whole shabang. Prom is coming up, and she obviously wants to be prom queen, and it's all but secured for her until before votes begin. Some girl gets in a wreck and loses her leg. People feel bad for this girl, and rumors says that they're gonna make her prom queen instead. Sara is upset, she goes home and her parents are like, "If you can't even get to the top in prom, how will you ever succeed in the real world? Don't disappoint us, " which obviously is not the right thing to say. So she tries really hard to promote herself, but in doing so, she basically socially isolates herself to the point that her friends say she's socially dead. Then, like the day before prom, she finds out that her bf is going to take the girl who lost her leg to prom instead of Sara. Her parents be absolute dicks about it, saying, "Why are you so calm? There's no future for a princess at prom". And so then she's has like a total psychotic breakdown and decides to go to the school and kill all her old friends. But then the girl who lost a leg calls the cops. So Sara crowns herself prom queen then gets arrested and put in an insane asylum

Crazy, I know lol.

BUT ANYWAYS

So I've come up with a couple of different routes you could go(and obviously creative liberty to anyone who writes it), one is following the song more closely where it has them set in an AU or regular jujitsu high has a prom. The other is still set in the canon universe, where Geto defects and everything. So in every one of those Gojo is Sara, the only real difference between the different ideas would be his reason for going on an absolute rampage lmao

So I was thinking, in the one where it's just regular jjk, but it goes non-canon compliant a bit. Geto leaves, says his iconic line of, "Are you the strongest because you're Satoru Gojo, or are you Satoru Gojo because you're the strongest", after that Gojo shoves himself into getting better like he does in the show but he's more unhinged after losing his support system and the only person he thought understood him and didn't think of him like a weapon. In the normal show he just takes on the responsibilities that Geto shoved onto him and runs himself into the ground, I'm thinking that could still happen, but instead of just tired he becomes more unstable, ungrounded, not at all connected to reality without Geto there to keep him touching the earth yk? And then maybe Shoko leaves and joins Geto, or someone finally says the thing that just tips Gojo over the absolute edge, and he goes on his killing spree. He massacres the elders, maybe others associated, and no one can stop him because he's the strongest. He tries everything to make himself feel like a person again. He kills and kills and kills, but nothing works. He gets further and further from the ground. Until he's either killed EVERYONE in jujitsu high or everyone who saw him as a weapon and not a person(almost everyone😬). And maybe it ends there, with him completely and utterly alone at the top like he always was. OR there's an alternate ending where someone calls Geto, he comes, sees the blood bath that Gojo left in his wake. But by the time he's gotten there, gotten to Gojo, it's too late. He's too far gone. He can no longer save the one he used to call his best friend. And so he either gives up, trys to take Gojo with him and does not give up on him, or Gojo kills him. Whichever is fine tbh.

In the AU or prom one, it can honestly go however. With that you could just follow the song premise since the other was pretty loosely based on it lol.

Anywho, thanks in advance to anyone who decides to write it or recommend fics🩷🩷

[saveahorserideaneddie]

One Fan’s Thoughts on 9-1-1 Season 7

(fair warning this is about to be a long ass rant post so buckle up; if you, like me, get anxiety over speculation and discussion of the show, this may not be the post for you to read… but i need to get my thoughts out there because i have kept them bottled up for so long that it is taking a mental toll on me.)

there’s something so gutwrenching about laying awake in bed thinking about how you have been the closest you’ve ever been to actually seeing a queer ship you’ve stuck with for six years actually going canon just to be hit with an immensely overwhelming sense of doubt because every time the story presents a natural path to develop in that direction, the writers completely veer off in an insanely different direction despite constantly trying to push this narrative of “if it goes there naturally” while ignoring the plethora of times it already has gone there naturally but has been passed over for some insanely far-fetched plotline that contradicts points that have been set up in the past…

i’m not trying to put a dampner on things or worry anyone, and like i mentioned in my previous post i am NOT closing on buddie, but i still can’t help but feel cinical and pessimistic about it when it feels like Tim is just blatantly baiting us at this point. Like at times it doesn’t even feel like he’s actually open to exploring buddie when he is constantly retconning his own storylines from previous seasons, and making excuses every time he deliberately chooses to ignore the countless number of chances that crop up in the story, instead deciding that because he wants to redo hitchcock he’s going to rewrite the history he created in order to fit a convoluted plotline that borders on farse just to a) not give fans what they have been begging for for years, b) shoehorn in his vertigo fanfiction, c) stir up drama rather than actually giving us something pointing in a positive direction to combat the 5000 other depressing plotlines he’s trying to cram into a 10 episode season.

i really thought tim was going to bring back the old vibe we had before KR took over and messed things up, but so far this season has felt like a jam-packed rushed mess that resembles a middle schooler’s first forray into a wattpad angst fic, and it’s disheartening to have sat with the show since the first season just to see it fall off so hard w s6 b, only to rebuild hope that things might go back to normal w s7, just for it to spiral even further into jump-the-shark territory.

And this is not just about buddie. There have been numerous times this season that have just been recycled plot points from previous seasons rather than something new and fresh, simply for the sake of melodrama. Old plotlines that had been seemingly finished are being rehashed and recontextualized out of nowhere, characters are getting entire traits and development completely rewritten and replaced with something almost unrecognizable to newer fans, there has been very little positivity within the narrative to allow us to breathe between traumatic moments, and the few positive moments we have received have been lukewarm at best, and have done nothing but cause derision and hate to be spread throughout the fandom.

PR for this season has been a mess. At times it feels like Oliver Stark is the only actor who exists on the show, and that Buck is somehow the titular character— not that Buck’s coming out storyline is not important, it absolutely is, but the entire season should not be focused solely on him just because of a two episode arc that honestly didn’t tell us anything new about him besides canonically confirming what we’ve known to be true since the second season.

We have cast members stirring up drama by indulging fans through paid video responses, and cast members on live getting asked to weigh in on fandom drama that they honestly have no reason to be involved in. We have news outlets constantly being approved by the PR team to ask questions about a popular ship to bait viewers into watching the show when there has not been any concrete evidence either way of whether or not they actually plan to go there, dragging things out for another season when they have no confirmation yet in whether or not they will get a 9th season (and if they do, probably coming up with some other bullshit reason to drag things out), confirming that certain plot points were planned to happen in the past but for some reason now they are like “but that’s not what we’re doing anymore so you have to live with present and be happy with what you get.”

There is no reason why 6 years can’t be a long enough time for a slow burn. There is no reason for characters to be given increasingly convoluted arcs that callback to plotlines that have been otherwise nonexistent for years at this point. There is no reason to drag fans of a ship along just because you’re too scared to lose they’re viewership rather than just flat out saying “no we aren’t ever going to do it” or actually committing to it one of the hundreds of times the story opens a path to it.

No, the choices made this season were not “the only way” we could have been given the same dramatic beats. The choices made have not been some sort of end all be all to the story with no other possible outcome. Tim did not need to send the show off the rails the way he has just because he wants drama. Yes it’s a drama show, but there also need to be moments to breathe. Yes it’s a drama show, but that doesn’t mean you can’t let characters be happy. Yes it’s a drama show, but that doesnt mean you have to fuck up the narrative every time it starts going in the direction of something the fans have begged for for years just because you don’t want to give it to them.

It’s disappointing to see how careless they are being with things this season when previous seasons the actors and writers have been so cautious about what was said about buddie. now we have every interview mentioning buddie in some way, yet we only get told “idk 🤷” and see nothing concrete in the story to firmly hint one way or the other. It’s disappointing when you start feeling like you are being dragged along because a corporation knows that ship baiting won’t ever actually backfire/have a negative affect on them, so it ends up being a lose-lose situation for the fandom.

Maybe it’s because I have been burned too msny times by TV shows in the past, but nothing about this season or the PR surrounding it has given me faith that Tim or the writers actually care about anything other than viewership. Otherwise we would be seeing clear signs of the growing seeds of buddie, but so far all we’ve seen is the same framing choices that we’ve seen in every other season that are being made to deliberately keep buddie fans drawn in and theorizing when the writers have most likely already thrown out any plans that there might have ever been for buddie to go canon.

Mostly, I am disappointed in the fact that Oliver has been so heavily involved in pushing buddie speculation after being so careful to not lead people on in the past- i know that some believe that this was a sign that buddie is coming and he knows it is, but as the season draws to a close it feels more like he is just showing where his loyalty lies even though he knows the show isn’t going to take it there. I am not blaming oliver for buddie not going canon or trying to insinuate that he is queerbaiting in any way, but i can’t help but feel like i wouldn’t be so dejected about the way this season is going if he hadn’t started interacting with and sharing buddie content before any sort of confirmation was given.

now do not get me wrong i absolutely ADORE oliver and i am not in any way trying to attack him or speak against him in any way, I am simply saying that his sudden vocal support and campaigning for buddie is only going to add on to my disappointment in heaps if they don’t make buddie canon, especially after JLH said Tim made Madney happen bc she asked for it, but he still hasn’t made any sort of definitive move towards buddie after the same amount of time.

and lastly my disappointment also lies with the fact that ryan’s acting ability has been wasted on this crackfic plot… ryan is one of the most underutilized dramatic actors on the show, and the fact that the only serious arc he has gottne this season isn’t even that serious because of how out of character and preposterous it is is really disappointing. ryan deserves better, and eddie deserves better, and it is disappointing seeing him acting his entire heart and sole out in a plotline that makes his character out to be the bad guy in the situation when this is something eddie would never do under normal circumstances. Ryan’s talent has once again only been used to show trauma and this time it wasn’t even trauma that feels natural within the story, and especially after his recent interview it disappoints me that we are once again reiterating that eddie is somehow mentally unstable enough to have an emotional affair with a woman he knows nothing about just because she looks like shannon. Eddie has simultaneously had so much yet so little development, and seeing some of the theories of where his character is going in the context of ryan saying s8 will be a “reset” for eddie doesn’t fill me with excitement over where his story is going and actually makes me worried that we are going to see regression rather than progress for the sake of drama… i just don’t want to see eddie’s character revamped to a point where he has lost all of his development from the past 6 seasons just because Tim wanted to turn eddie’s plotline into a melodramatic telenovela.

Anyway, sorry for the rant— maybe it’s the stuff that’s going on in my personal life combined with the fear of getting played by yet another network tv show ship baiting that’s making me feel this way, but this season has left me feeling so pessimistic and cynical about the show as a whole, but mostly about buddie and it hurts. I love both of these characters dearly, and i want them to finally understand that everything they’ve ever needed in life they have in each other, but it feels like ever time we are on the verge, another wild card is played and it’s getting old atp.

i don’t say any of this to cause an argument. i don’t say any of this to poke and prod at people. i say this as someone who has loved this show and given it 7 years of my life who feels like my experience as a fan is being shat on in favor of melodrama rather than thoughtful storytelling… not to say there haven’t been really good moments this season, but overall, it has really soured things for me the way Tim has handled/taken the narrative in many ways, and I don’t know if I will be able to watch season 8 until i see concrete evidence that things will be better. i am not kidding when i say this takes the spot as my least favorite season after season 6, regardless of if we get any hope or not next ep… and that is what upsets me.

[goldeneyedgirl]

I know you have so many projects to work on, but I was just reading that fic you posted here where alice is kind of a witch (??) and jasper kind of kills her in the end (i forgot the title I'm sorry 😭) and I was thinking about how I think that one version of alice fits so much my idea of highschooler human alice and even the way her relationship with jasper starts. And all of that just to say: how do you picture a completely average human high school version of the cullens? Honestly, even as humans, I don't think that weirdos could ever be average.

Hi Anon!

The Dark and the Unknown! I'm actively working on it as we speak (it's being very difficult).

I absolutely love coming up with ordinary versions of the Cullens so I am obsessed with this question. I think any version of the Cullen family as they are in canon is going to be Weird, but being human makes it a little less obvious.

I will say that for me, one of the defining human-Cullen interpretations has to be Midnight Run by Inthemadhouse (tragically unfinished but one of the best Jalice fics online), so that has probably coloured some of my personal headcanons.

Strap yourself in, it's going to be long.

I'm working from the idea the family are Exactly As Presented in canon: Carlisle and Esme adopted a bunch of teenagers who then promptly hooked up with each other, with Edward being the first adoption, then Emmett, then Alice, and then the acquisition of Esme's twin niece and nephew. Obviously the ages of when they were acquired by Carlisle and Esme have to be fudged a little to make this work.

family stuff.

There is 0 chance that Esme and Carlisle (who I'm estimating are in their 30s because it's highly unlikely they would be approved for that combination of kids in their early 20s) would be paying out of pocket for five Ivy League educations plus dorm and books (approx 300k per student for undergrad). Without hundreds of years to build their wealth, Carlisle and Esme Normal Wealthy, not Batman Villain Wealthy.

I think Esme and Carlisle would want to teach a good work ethic, and set the kids up for success as adults. College would be an unspoken expectation because of white privilege and their wealth, but Esme and Carlisle would also accept a post high school plan that was realistic and researched. I also think Carlisle and Esme would be big on community service and volunteering, and not letting the kids just lie around during the summer.

Esme would have a small office/studio to run her architecture/interiors business out of, and she juggles work with running the household, and tries to give the kids more responsibility now that they're getting older. Carlisle would work long hours, but emphasise the importance of family time when he's off work - one of the reasons they go camping so often.

edward.

Edward is very literary and a bit pretentious. He reads the classics and has strong opinions and thinks that a lot of trends and pop culture is beneath him. He's the one wearing sweater vests and button downs to school - with a leather satchel - and his notebooks are all moleskines.

He thinks he's very artistic and spends a lot of time writing poetry and music for the piano, and pining for someone to understand him. He is insanely self-conscious about his appearance - especially his skin - and kind of awkward around his peers. He's not nearly as religiously coded as a human, but is determined to prove to Carlisle that he was worth the hassle of the adoption.

His best subjects are English Lit, Music, and European History. His co-curricular is probably the school play, where he plays piano. He's a nightmare to drag out of bed in the morning, and he tends to be very bossy with his family because he's been with the Cullens the longest. He's closest to Alice, but I see him actually getting along with Ben, Eric, and Angela at school. I think he'd kind of want to be friends with Jacob but try to be cool about it and come off as a snob. Edward cannot stand Rose or Jasper.

Edward would have been attracted to Bella's standoffish attitude when she arrived; the long-suffering thing is something he understands (he lives with four 'siblings' and only two bathrooms). They bond over classic novels and feeling out of place with their peers and whilst they get a little dramatic, they're very happy with each other.

bella.

We know teenage Bella but if she and Edward were humans together? Oof. Bella is starry-eyed over Edward from Day One, but knows how to hide it - she realizes that would put Edward off pretty fast.

I think Jacob and Bella would be quite close from her arrival in Forks, but Bella would be kind of on the fringes of her social set for all of high school. I also like to think that Jacob has his own friends and girlfriend, and doesn't spend his high school years pining after Bella.

I cannot see Bella and Alice being close friends in an all-human universe because Alice isn't starved for friends in this world, and Bella's got less of a reason to get her on side when immortality isn't the prize. I think they get along and hang out but they just don't have enough in common. I think Bella would irritate the shit out of Rose, getting caught asking too many questions about the family around school.

Bella would absolutely get pregnant before graduation. Edward has less religious hangups plus a contemporary upbringing... yeah, Ness was an accident. But Edward would definitely want to marry Bella before they went to college - I can definitely see Edward turning down Ivy League to stay with Bella at a public university.

emmett.

Emmett is sport like Ken is beach. I feel like Emmett plays two sports every season, probably coaches a kiddie league on the weekends, has a summer boy scout troupe, and works delivering pizzas after school. He loves the outdoors, loves activity. His grades are not great, honestly, but he does his best and he passes. He's definitely the student whispering if anyone did the homework and could he just... have a quick look two minutes before class starts. Emmett's one of those people who just has a lot of friends, though he would claim his best friend is either Edward or Jasper.

He's extremely popular because he's so friendly, and he's the kind of kid that adults go "Emmett Cullen doesn't sleep til noon on a Saturday. He's already coached two first grade basketball games and washed his mom's care by 10am." (Esme would look at them, unamused, and explain that she literally keeps two water jugs in the upstairs bathroom: one to wake up Edward and one to wake up Emmett.)

Emmett is also almost always the source of alcohol at high school parties, and makes the best fake I.Ds in the county. Charlie Swan knows it's Emmett, he just has no tangible proof. Yet.

Emmett has very little trauma due to being adopted, and definitely sees being a Cullen as winning the life lottery. He's the heart and soul of the family, and tends to use that to get out of any serious trouble.

I think that Rose and Jasper probably joined the family around age 12ish, and Emmett was probably smitten with Rose from first sight, and made a bit of a fool of himself and annoyed Rose for a few weeks before he relaxed and was just himself. He was naturally accepting of her boundaries, respectful, and the appropriate amount of protective over her when needed. I actually think Rose and Emmett got together after Alice and Jasper, probably around Freshman year. I know it's common that they are the pair that have the on-again, off-again dramatics, but I don't see it - perfect match. Emmett takes jokes about him dumping Rose for a cheerleader with 0 humor and shoots down any female - or male - that tries to flirt with him.

His best subjects are Gym and Chemistry. He's really easy-going and I can see him opting for a state university close to Rose because she has such strong preferences for her education. He gets along really well with the guys on the Res, hangs out there a lot, and is definitely a big brother figure for Seth after Harry's heart attack. He'd probably want to study something like video game design on a football scholarship in college.

rose.

Rose would not be a popular cheerleader. I need that out there. She has no interest in the social aspect, no interest in the culture of cheerleading, and has tunnel vision about her college plans.

I see Rose having a very type-A high school experience - all her classes are AP or college credit, she volunteers at the hospital in the summer (pediatrics), she runs a study group for STEM subjects because Forks High won't let her start a full-on robotics club, she's a member of the cross country team, and she works after school at Esme's office until she gets a job at a garage. She is utterly humorless about her grades, and she's going to be valedictorian, get into an Ivy League (ideally MIT, but she's flexible) on at least one decent scholarship.

And she makes it all look completely effortless. Meanwhile, she's still got a lot of baggage and trauma from before she joined the Cullen family, she's got a lot of anger, and she's just determined to rise about it without really dealing with it in a healthy way; Esme and Carlisle are terrified she's going to put all this work in, only to burn out before she makes it to college.

She intimidates the shit out of her classmates, and I feel like her closest friends at school would be, like, two other intense overachieving girls. She catches Bella trying to get gossip about the family from other students, and hates her from that moment on because Rose hates feeling like she's not normal. She knows their family is weird, but she wants the world to pretend it isn't.

I think Rose would actually become good friends with Leah Clearwater when she meets them via Emmett, and that she's insanely popular over at the Res with the boys because of her interest and knowledge in cars; between Rose, Jacob, and Sam, there is no car that they cannot get running again. I also think that Rose would stay in touch with Vera throughout their lives.

Rose and Edward hate each other with the fire of a thousand suns; Edward resents that Rose isn't grateful to Esme and Carlisle for taking her in because she should be honored (projecting just a little); Rosalie thinks that Edward is spoiled and has the self-awareness of a shoe-box and resents how treasured he is by the Cullens, but family therapy was just kind of a lot of yelling, so there's a mutual Cold War in the household.

Rose is also the most competent cook out of all the kids, but resents the fuck out of everyone when she's the one that the responsibility of cooking falls to on night's when the kids are cooking. The others learned fast that they had to participate or face her wrath.

Jasper and Rose are close in the way that siblings who have gone through something terrible together are, but their trauma is so different that it's hard for them to always related to the other. Emmett is Rosalie's foundation, her tether, and the person she hears no matter what. To the outsider, she seems like an ice-cold, controlling girlfriend but even when she's researching her college options, she's taking into account Emmett's wants and needs with those decisions. Rose feels so deeply that it makes her vulnerable so she hides it.

jasper.

I feel like before Forks, Jasper would have become very acquainted with drugs to cope with his past, and Carlisle and Esme had to intervene majorly - and that might have been one of the reasons that they decided to relocate the family to Forks. So like, now weed is his one vice to stay calm and get through the day, and he's pretty transparent with Esme, Emmett, and Alice about his smoking because of his previous addiction.

Jasper would be very quiet, and kind of just loom behind Alice at all times - I think 90% of the time, he'd have earbuds in. But he'd have a nasty temper and would definitely get into more than one fight, especially if someone said anything negative about Rose or Alice. And Jasper doesn't pick fights he won't win. He's kind of seen as the problem child of the family by the local gossips, even though Charlie Swan thinks that Jasper's a hell of a lot less trouble than Emmett. Charlie is, of course, totally incorrect as Jasper is the co-conspirer behind the fake I.D.s Emmett supplies, and has supplied a few parties with weed when he's feeling generous.

He absolutely got blackout drunk at a few parties before he quit drinking. He's kind of a sad and angry drunk, so it was for the best.

Jasper pretty much attached himself to Alice from his first day in the Cullen house, and they were definitely the first two to get together - Jasper has simped for Alice since he was 12, and has no plans to stop at any point. She's his favourite person, his best friend, and he's happy when she's happy, so he'll go to Homecoming, to the Winter Ball, to Spring Fling, Prom, anything to make her smile. He'll attend the school play every night because Alice designed the costumes.

At school, Jasper is the perpetual 'so smart, knows the material, puts 0 effort in'; he loves arguing with his teachers, and can turn a class into a three ring circus with minimal effort, but likes to save that for a couple of times a semester. He's the kind of asshole who shows up to finals, gets a perfect score, but hasn't handed in a single piece of homework. He's not really big on making friends, but he kind of does peripherally through Emmett and Alice. He'd argue his best friend is Peter, and they stay in touch for life. But he and Emmett get along great and are as close as bio brothers (even if Emmett cheerfully threatened to beat the shit out of him the first time he got caught with his hand up Alice's shirt.) Jasper definitely goes surfing at La Push and considers it meditative.

He and Edward have a frustrating relationship because of how much attention Jasper's struggles got him from Carlisle and Esme; Edward was jealous of how easily Carlisle told Jasper he was proud of him, and how Jasper was standoffish to Carlisle when he'd just been given the thing Edward craves more than anything. Carlisle also has an interest in history, and he and Jasper have long discussions about that together. Jasper finds Edward immature and spoiled but tries to keep the peace for Alice's sake.

He's most interested in American History and Technology. His co-curricular would be AV Club, but he really only shows up when they're pitching in for the school play. I definitely see Esme and Carlisle insisting he gets a job during the summer, and it would be something like helping run movies in the park during the summer, or working at the Forks Historical Society on Saturdays. He has no real plans for college, but I can see Jasper being one of those assholes who just gets a full ride to a really good school for reasons that are a mystery to everyone else.

alice.

Alice would be the most noticeable weirdo; I can see Alice being an Art Kid, and joining the school play just to design and make costumes, plus she wears a lot of homemade and customized clothing to school, as well as detailed make-up. But she's definitely up for joining clubs and socialising; I can't see her being a cheerleader because of the time commitment, but maybe doing ballet or gymnastics. Maybe a language club? And a photography club?

She's one of those people that just considers everyone a friend; I wouldn't be surprised if Esme and Carlisle had meetings to be like "no, Alice isn't ADHD. She's been tested, she's just high energy." I think she gets along really well with Jessica, kind of overwhelms Angela, and has a kind of Cold War of politeness going with Lauren. She's really welcoming to Bella and enthusiastic about her and Edward, but they don't have a ton in common so it's the odd movie night/sleepover when Bella's over at the Cullens.

Alice would be the peace-keeper between Edward and Rose and Jasper because she can translate Edward's dramatics into something tolerable for the others. She and Rose aren't super close, but they get along okay, and go shopping together often. Alice and Emmett probably have the most traditionally typical brother-sister relationship.

Alice seems a lot more innocent than she is, and that's partially her lack of memories from her childhood. She's very, very protective of Jasper in a subtle way; if he's drinking or getting high, she's staying by his side stone-cold sober, and she's definitely started at least one fight when someone said something about Jasper's scars. I think she'd have a lot of guilt over not being able to help Jasper with his addictions more than she did, even though she was a kid.

She's also the financial manager of Jasper and Emmett's little I.D. enterprise, and is definitely the sneakiest in the family - I think Alice would have a klepto streak as a human, and definitely be the one that knew her way around a lock-pick.

Her best classes would be Art, Economics, and maybe Forensics? She'd have no interest in English Lit or Sciences, but she'd get okay marks across the board - she's highly motivated if Carlisle is offering to pay them for As. She'd be looking at Parsons, Pratt, or RISD for college; maybe NYU. She'd have numerous jobs because Forks doesn't really have the kind of stores she'd aspire to work in, but I figure she negotiates selling accessories online with Carlisle and Esme instead of a traditional job. She'd volunteer to work on all the elementary school, middle school, and church plays.

--

I thin that's everything? I hope that's what you were looking for anon, but I had such a good time thinking about all this!

[jooeeydee]

I don't understand those Arrow fic writers who take away any form of personal accountability for their actions from their favorite character and blame their own choices on others, mainly Oliver.

It is such a cheap route to take and shows how little they understand Oliver's character. Everyone who calls him a selfish jerk and that he didn't or doesn't learn from his mistakes obviously hasn’t watched the show, or refused to look at Oliver as a traumatized man with a serious case of untreated PTSD.

They are also entirely ignorant to the fact that every time he took a step forward he was pushed back at least two, sometimes by his enemies but most times by the people who were supposedly his friends and family. He received zero help, understanding or compassion from the people closest to him and no one did anything to try and help him. If they had truly cared, they would have learnt about PTSD and tried to convince him to actually get professional help instead of having insane expectations and getting angry at him if he fails to fulfill those.

Blaming someone with this extreme amount of trauma for not behaving the way a "normal" person would, is not just ignorant but downright disgusting.

Did Oliver make bad choices that made situations even worse? For sure. Could some of them have been prevented had he made different choices? Probably.

But to ignore the reasons why he made those choices and simply saying he was a selfish jerk who only cared about himself is not fair to him.

Oliver was always trying to help people, protect the people he loved from the harsh reality of just how cruel and painful a place the world is. And most of all he tried to protect them from himself and the person he had turned into after his five years away. There was no one on the show who thought less of Oliver than Oliver himself. He saw himself as a monster. He took the blame for everything that went wrong in everyone's life and never defended himself even if he wasn't the one to blame or responsible for their pain. He truly felt he didn’t deserve happiness. So, add a serious case of depression to the rest of his psychological issues.

Talk about victim blaming! Seriously, this is like one of the most extreme cases I’ve ever seen on TV. 

Even on the show everyone always blamed Oliver for everything. How about they step in his shoes for a moment and make the difficult choices? And then deal with the consequences of their choices and don't just blame Oliver. I mean if he was there made a choice they didn't like it was his fault. If he wasn't there and they made a choice that backfired it was his fault for "not being there". Jeez talk about damned if you do damned if you don't.

Whereas Laurel, Felicity and Thea are being looked at as the innocent and blameless victims that were forced into their bad decisions by Oliver… simply existing I think… Both Laurel and Felicity were totally, shy and meek and easily manipulated and gullible women that just sat there and let a man walk all over them and abuse them… right… have those people even watched the show? Not going into the emotional manipulation and abuse the women used on Oliver here, cause the post would get way too long. But claiming Oliver is to blame for everything that went wrong in Laurel and Felicity’s lives also takes away from the women and the characters they were. If a man has the power to shape a woman’s life entirely, it means the woman has absolutely no power of her own and no free will, which means you just turned them into useless bimbos, instead of the strong, independent women that they actually were on the show.

Women aren’t perfect, they make mistakes too, and men aren’t to blame for their mistakes or the choices they made. No one forced them to be with Oliver or stay in his life, they chose that. Oliver never claimed to be a good choice for them, far from it he tried to get them to leave him alone. They refused. Don’t blame him for their choices.

And also, Sara would never call Oliver, the man who was willing to die for her several times, who killed a man so she didn't have to, who risked everything to try and save a friend, a selfish jerk. Whoever believes Sara would think so little of Oliver obviously hasn't watched the show.

Sorry for my rant but things like that just piss me off and leave me in a state of disbelieve.

[just-some-random-blogger]

You've done it again. She's done it again. ALLIE WHAT IF I

(I FUCKING HATE THIS GIF SO MUCH I HAVE I SAY IT EVERYTIME I USE IT ITS SO BAD BUT ITS ALSO SO ME ITS AHHHHHHHHH GAGGOOOOOOO FUCKKKIINGGGGGG SHITTT)

What a way to end this. I cannot express how satisfying this was.

Ngl when say the angst tag I was like YUM I'm readdyyyyyy. I have to say though I might need to check my pulse cos I didn't flinch at the angst at all 😭😭😭 I was waiting to be kicked in the teeth but we got an anxious tick that resolved within 24 hours. Couldn't be me 😭😭😭 I'm insane I have a fic where I've been torturing YN for fucking 20+ years 😭😭😭😭😭😭 ALLIE IM NOT WELL HAHAHAHAHAHHAAH

ANYWAY I SAW THE END PART YOU WERE LOOKING FOR IDEAS AND FUCKING HELL ID LOVE TO SEE YOU STAB INTO ANGST I WANT YOU TO HIT ME WITH A STEEL CHAIR AND BASH MY BRAINS OUT UGHHHH YOU HAVE TO UNDERSTAND IM A MASOCHIST JEJSJSJDJSNSJWJSJWJNWNA IF YOU WANT STAB MY EYES OUT I WOULD THANK YOU

anyway after all that mental unwellness. IMMA MAKE SURE I DONT LOSE THIS REBLOG FUCK YOU TUMBLR 🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕

It was strange sitting in Bill’s office without him, curled up in the armchair he devoured you in, book open in your lap.

*SLOWED SOUND OF A GUNSHOT* WTF YOU STARTING LIKE THIS IS INSANE WORK WTF IS WRONG WITH YOU (absolutely nothing you're a master mind incredible amazing mwah 😘)

[...] but your mind was too preoccupied with thoughts of its writer to absorb any of it.

She like me fr

Bill had been in Cairo for 12 days, six hours, and nine minutes, every tick of the clock like a barb in your skin, leeching black, poisonous doubt into your blood.

WTFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF THATS INCREDIBLE WORK 🫵WITCH🫵 HO IS U MAGIC HOW DOES ONE WRITE LIKE THAT DAFAQ BARB IN YOUR SKIN IS INSANNNEEEEEE

Would he still want you when he returned? Will the time away give him clarity to how insane you both were acting? Would you be reduced to a fling? No longer desirable now that you've been flung?

🧍‍♀️ are you mentally enslaved (clearly) gago ka wala pa nga inunahan mo na [tr: (curse word) there's nothing yet and you're already ahead/getting ahead of yourself] miss ma'am shut the fuck up. Disrespectfully.

The time, the space, was making you second guess yourself, second guess him.

I understand you. But also shucho trap rat. WALA PAAAAAAAA (idk how to translate this NOTHING YET)

But fuck, you wanted him desperately, the ache for him like a hole in your lungs.

GIRLLLL 🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚 WHEN I TELL YOU MY READING COMPREHENSION WAS ACTINGGGG UPPPP 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

I DEADASS THOUGHT YOU WROTE SMTH SMTH FILL YOUR ACHING IN YOUR HOLE I WAS LIKE 😨😨😨 WOAHHHHHH AHHAHAHAHHAHAHAH 🤣🤣🤣🤣😭😭😭💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚

I MEANNNNN 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦 WHERES THE LIE I WAS LIKE GIRL WILDING BUT WHO AM I TO JUDGE SHES SO VALID 😭😭💀💀💀🤚🤚🤚🤚

NO CUZ I WAS LIKE UNPROVOKED???? BUT ALSO I MEANNNNN HE MADE YOU COME 3 TIMES SO YEAHHHHHHH KINDA PROVOKED HAHAHAH I WAS JUST SO JARRED COS IT WAS SO OUTTA NOWHERE AND I WAS LIKE ALLIE WOULD NEVER BUT IF YOU DID I RESPECT IT CUZ REAL AHHAHAHAHA

Rain was coming down in sheets, wind buffeting against your coat, but when you rounded the corner towards your flat, the bulk of a man standing in the rain in front of your door stopped you in your tracks.

BILL❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓

“Bill?” You gasped, and he lifted his head, his eyes shadowed with exhaustion, copper hair pulled back in a messy bun.

HE WHAT IN A MESSY BUN??????

You launched yourself at him, completely overcome with relief, and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, burying your face into the crook of his neck.

The most normal response ever

You reluctantly pulled away and riffled through your bag for your keys. [...] Butterflies rioted in your stomach, [...]

🫵WITTCHHHHH🫵 HO IS U MAGIC HOW YOU WRITE LIKE THAT

“Missed you, little bird,” he mumbled, pressing a tender kiss to your pulse.

“You really want to talk about work? That's where you just came from, isn't it?” He said while shirking his own coat.

No. I want to eat you. I fucking hate you stupid fucking idiot fuck you in trying to be a human and you're making me into a monster. Eat shit and die

You snorted. “Really? William ‘Never-Takes-A-Day-Off’ Weasley is going to lecture me on working too much?”

☝️That part. Clocked.

“Backtalk, too? Have you forgotten your manners while I was away?” He backed you against your kitchen island, lips a breath away from yours.

What are you gonna do about it 🙄🖕 btw

“Haven't felt anything soft in days,” he mumbled, almost to himself.

Ho why is u lyin. You have a bed. They have beds in Cairo. 🙄🙄🙄🙄🤚 FUCK OUTTA HERE

“Don't make me break in!” Fred warned, knocking with a little more force. “I'd hate to do it again!”

SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP FREDDDDIIIEEEEEE 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 THE WAY IS STARTED SCREAMING LIKE ACTUALLY SCREAMING WHEN THEY CAME AROUND

“Just—fuck, get in the closet!” You tried to push Bill towards your bedroom, but only managed to move him a few steps.

🧍‍♀️ why. Why. WHY. The fuck are they being so stupid???? Hello????? MY EYE IS TWITCHING

“Why did he break in before?” He asked, fighting a smile at your helpless attempt to move him.

Because we're fucking. Next weasley

Bill chuckled and walked the rest of the way into your bedroom at the same moment you heard George cast alohomora.

SCREAMING I FEEL PERSONALLY ATTACKED COS I WROTE A FIC AND DIDNT KNOW THIS SPELL AND HAHAHAHAHHAAHHHAHAHA ARE YOU ATTACKING ME HAHAHAHAHHAHHAH

“Darling, is there a man in this flat?” George asked, lowering his voice conspiratorially.

Are you a chicken? 🙄🤚 Shut the fuck up george

“You sure you know this bloke well enough to be here alone with him?” Fred asked, moving closer to the closet, the humor having drained from his voice.

🫵you🫵 know him well enough. Also, he's had his fingers inside me 😋😋😋😋

“What's his name?” George asked. “Maybe Bill’s mentioned him?”

You're not gonna believe this

“You don't even know his name?” Fred whisper-shouted, glaring at you with a strange mix of pride and concern.

WELL FRED BLABBERMOUTH WEASLEY. IF YOU ACTUALLY LET HER FUCKING SPEAK MAYBE SHED TELL YOU BUT NOOOOOOOOOOO YOURE MOUTH RUNNING LIKE A FUCKING MOTOR OH MY FUCKJNG SHIT SHUT THE FUCK UPPPP (I love you I would kiss you until your lips bruise)

“Did this prick scare you?” Fred asked, turning his attention back to the closet door.

😭😭😭😭😭😭 HES BEING SO STUPID BUT SO DARLING FREDDDD SET ME FREE SET ME FREEE

“Hey, fuckface, what are you doing in her closet?” Fred banged on the door, and you died a little inside.

THOUGHTS AND PRAYERS THE WAY I WAS SCREAMING SO BAD SO GOOD MY BRAIN CHEMISTRY HAS BEEN CHANGED AGAIN I FEARRR HAHAHAHAH

“B-Bill?” Fred stammered, taking a step back.

“You two have some fucking nerve,” Bill growled, and the twins scattered as he dashed out of the closet after them.

😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 THEYRE SO SIBLING CODED ANAJJSJSJSKAKJHAHAAHAH SCATTERING IS CRAZZYYY WORKKK RUN WHITE BOYS RUN

“We're sorry! We didn't know!” George called, vaulting over your couch.

GEORGIEEEEEEEEE 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 GIMMEEEE KISSS DID THE BAD MAN HURT YOUUUUUUU ILL SAVE YOU *ROLLS UP MAGAZINE* STAY BACK 🤺 😭😭😭😭 vaulting is crZyyyyyyy

“What the fuck, y/n?” Fred shouted, diving under your bed.

💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀 UNDER YOUR BEDDDDD?????????? 🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚 ALSO HOW IS IT MY FAULLTTTTTTTTTTTTT 🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵 YOU UNLOCKED MY DOOR GENIUS

Bill turned on him, throwing one of your pillows at his head. “I'm not fucking her!”

🧍‍♀️ awie ngl I thought this was where the angst was gonna start. Though she was gonna pull a Jace Wayland:

"how swiftly you dismiss our love" ughhhhhhhhhhhhh

**unrelated** I literally discovered I could insert gifs via links because of your last bill fic I was so desperate to add them cos of how good it was

“Your girl?” Bill challenged, and you groaned.

🗣️WHAT🗣️ABOUT🗣️IT🗣️ put a ring on it then if you're so mad 🙄🤚 bill Weasley marry me challenge

“Congratulations on your boning! Bye!” George chirped, apparating too.

😭😭😭😭😭😭 MY SHAYLA I LOVE HIM

“They won't say anything,” he said, smoothing back his hair.

Your honor i don't know how I feel

“Don’t say anything else. I want you to sleep on it,” he said, straightening. “Take the day off tomorrow, too. Then you can tell me what you want to do, and we'll do it.” His voice was firm, but not unkind, a tone of finality that had you nodding in acceptance. “Goodnight, love.” He pressed a kiss to your temple, then released you, apparating away before you could blink.

We love an emotionally available and level headed man. I would ruin his life

When you landed sprawled in his yard instead of standing on his front porch, it occurred to you that surprising the Curse-breaker in the middle of the night during a thunderstorm was a stupid idea, but it was too late now.

LOL GET HEXED

Bill bound down the steps, grabbing you by the throat and silencing you with a savage, bruising kiss.

HE WHAT❓❓❓❓❓❓

He hummed low in his chest, petting a hand over your damp hair. “Whatcha doin’, pretty girl?” he asked, his voice silken.

TRYING TO EATTTTT YOU???????????

“You want my cock, darling?” He asked, gently sweeping your hair into a ponytail, the strands held together by his fist.

He tsked, smirking. “I suppose I could indulge you for a bit.” With his free hand, he reached into the front his pants, freeing himself. He wrapped his hand around the base, a pearl of precum squeezing from the swollen tip.

I'm fine

“Such a good fucking slut, gagging on my cock—this what you wanted? To be pushed to your limits?” Bill clutched your jaw with his other hand, feeling the strain in your muscles, the force of him stretching your mouth wider, and he groaned, head tipping back on his shoulders. “I'm gonna mold that pretty little throat in the shape of my cock, yeah? You're mine. This throat is mine.”

Btw my sister was gagged by the way I laughed at this like the truly insane person I am

Again, you had the echo of the feeling that you were an artifact under his jurisdiction, being examined with the utmost attention, like the code to cracking you open was written on your skin.

GAGOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO LOBOTOMY THIS IS SO GOOD WHAT THE FUCKKKK

When if finally spit you back out, gasping and overwrought on the shore of Bill's bed, he was still lapping at you, his face and shirt soaked with your release.

WHY THE FUCK IS HIS SHIRT STILL ON THE FUCK THIS FUCKING MISOGYNIC PIECE OF SHIT WHAT ABOUT EQUAL OPPORTUNITIES FUCK YOU

“Good fucking girl, well done,” he cooed, withdrawing his fingers to massage the ache from your trembling thighs, his tongue dipping down to drink at the pool of your pleasure. “Twice more, now. That's my girl.”

T-T-T-T-TWICE?????? TWICE MORE??? IS THREE YOUR LUCKY NUMBER BILL. Illuminati confirmed. Im going to go booster

When you came down from the third, twitching and raw, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes, he finally relented.

Me

CRYINF AT THIS GIF HAHAHHHAHAH

“Insatiable,” he purred with approval, shifting to slide down his sweatpants fully and kicking them off.

MEEEEE?????? 🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️ YOURE 🫵 OUT HERE ACTING LIKE YOURE NOT MAKING ME COME 3000000 TIMES

BTW LAST TIME BEFORE MY TUMBLR GOT RUDELY EATEN. I SAID LAST TIME I FELT LIKE I FUCKING CAME WHILE READING YOUR WORK AND I DIDN'T EVEN 🌚🌝 TOUCH MYSELF HAHAAHHHAHA FR IT SO GOOD ALLLIEEEEE IDC OF THIS IS TMI IT WAS SO GOOD YOU SET THE PRECEDENT SO HIGH I FEAR

“Being balls deep in this fucking pussy, feeling your wrapped around me, squeezing my cock the way you do my fingers.”

JDJDJDJDJJSJSJ CALL ME CHICKEN COS BUCOOOOOOCKKKKK

He shuddered, a breathy moan fanning against your neck, as his control severed. He slammed his cock into you, sheathing himself completely in your depths, and you both cried out, clinging to one another as he dragged his hips back, then slammed them forward again and again. Rutting into you like a feral beast. Brutalizing every inch of your overworked pussy, your overworked mind, until you were brainless, boneless, his to claim entirely.

It's fine I'm fine totally not thinking about getting fucked silly by bill Weasley hahah you're so crazy

“Come for me, love. Give it to me,” he growled, his free hand dipping down to work your clit, his thrusts growing rougher by the second. Tearing you apart on his cock.

HAHAHHAHAH ITS FINE IM SO NORMAL FUCK YOU I HATE IT HERE

“Fuck yes,” he huffed, breath hot and heavy against your neck. “Gonna paint this cunt white. Make you mine.”

Bill sank in his teeth into your neck, bottoming out while his cock kicked inside of you, fulfilling his promise and painting your insides with his release. You collapsed onto the bed, scattered pieces in the swallow of space, half-there with Bill as he fucked you both through it, kissing at your neck and muttering praise, and half-gone, a disembodied soul floating on a river of bliss.

FUCKING YOU THROUGH IT OVERSTIM MY BELOVED INSANITY GO BRRRRRR

Slowly, you returned piece by piece until air slammed back into your lungs and you were gasping, shivering, clinging desperately to him.

“Sh, sh I’ve got you. You're alright,” he shushed, shifting on the bed to fold you into his chest, raining kisses over your forehead and temple. “You did so well, my love. I'm so proud of you.”

Mdjiskskksskk PRAISE KINK GO BRRRR FUCKKKKKKKK I NEED A CIGARETTE (DONT SMOKE)

Allie.... Hand in marriage 💍💍💍 this was so good. I fear I've been too spoiled. The second one haunts me. I fear I will never experience a high like that ever again in my life. I'm not saying that because im shitting in this one ARE YOU KIDDING ME FRED AND GEORGE STOLE THIS FIC This is so sweet I FEAR IM SIMPLY SO SPOILED I JUSY I HAVE TO TELL YOU THAT MY BRAIN IS LITTERALLY CHANGED I KEEP GOING BACK TO THAT SECOND ONE FUCKK SHIT FUCKKK

MAKE NO MISTAKE THIS IS INCREDIBLE NO LOOSE ENDS I COULD NEVER IM A MESSY MESSY GIRLLLLLL BUT NOT AS MESSY AS BILL'S GIRL FFUCKKKK THAT SHOUKD BE MEEEEEE

Anyway I'm going to manifest bill Weasley in my bedroom now

Love care

Magic Lessons p.3 | B.W.

feat. Bill Weasley x intern!reader

SUMMARY: Bill returns from Cairo, but doubt began to creep into your mind during his absence, dredging up old wounds for the both of you.

CW: MDNI 18+, smut, mischievious twins, pleasuredom!Bill, angst angst angst angst, mentions of Fenrir’s attack and the war, mentions of divorce, some rough oral and piv, slight breeding kink, possessive!Bill, fluffy HEA

AN: this is now a completed series! yay!

part one | part two | masterlist

It was strange sitting in Bill’s office without him, curled up in the armchair he devoured you in, book open in your lap. You'd been trying for an hour to decipher his notes on a particular curse, tracing the small, angular letters with tired eyes, but your mind was too preoccupied with thoughts of its writer to absorb any of it.

Bill had been in Cairo for 12 days, six hours, and nine minutes, every tick of the clock like a barb in your skin, leeching black, poisonous doubt into your blood.

Would he still want you when he returned? Will the time away give him clarity to how insane you both were acting? Would you be reduced to a fling? No longer desirable now that you've been flung?

The time, the space, was making you second guess yourself, second guess him. What you were doing was reckless. Stupid, even. Risking the future you'd imagined for yourself since you were a first year at Hogwarts. You’d be a stain on Bill’s impressive career, and the thought of him eventually coming to resent you, regret you, for possibly ruining a decade of hard work…it made you physically ill.

Could you do that to him? To yourself?

But fuck, you wanted him desperately, the ache for him like a hole in your lungs. You found yourself spending longer and longer hours in his office, craving his presence, his aura, and the sanctuary of his space was the closest you could come to replicating that.

You sighed and set the notes aside for the night, the sun having set some hours before. With unhurried movements, you packed up your belongings and tidied his office on the off chance he returned the following day. You wanted it to be presentable for him, leaving no evidence that you'd been holed up there for nearly two weeks, besides the stack of completed work.

You took the Floo Station to the nearest one by your flat like you always did, ready to wash off your makeup, get into your pajamas, and order some Chinese food. Rain was coming down in sheets, wind buffeting against your coat, but when you rounded the corner towards your flat, the bulk of a man standing in the rain in front of your door stopped you in your tracks.

It took less than a heartbeat for you to realize who it was.

“Bill?” You gasped, and he lifted his head, his eyes shadowed with exhaustion, copper hair pulled back in a messy bun.

He took a step towards you. “Sorry, I—”

You launched yourself at him, completely overcome with relief, and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, burying your face into the crook of his neck. “You're home,” you whispered, relaxing fully when his arm looped around your waist, holding you tightly against his chest under the safety of the umbrella.

“I'm home,” he sighed, nuzzling into the top of your head. He smelled of train cars and petrichor, with lingering traces of cologne applied hours earlier, and you wanted to breathe it like air. “Can we go inside?” He asked, settling his hand on your hip with a soft squeeze.

“Yes! Merlin, sorry,” you giggled, a twinge of nerves in your stomach at the thought of having Bill inside your little flat.

You reluctantly pulled away and riffled through your bag for your keys. Bill's arm slid around you from behind, pulling you back against his chest as he nosed into the curve of your shoulder. Butterflies rioted in your stomach, your hands growing so clumsy to nearly dropped your key while you inserted it into the lock.

“Missed you, little bird,” he mumbled, pressing a tender kiss to your pulse.

“I missed you too,” you said, leaning your head against his. You managed to get the door open and Bill released you so you could move inside, and he closed the door behind you both, collapsing the umbrella and setting it by the door. “So, how were things in Egypt?” You asked, hanging your bag on the hook.

Bill slid your rain-soaked jacket off your shoulders, down your arms, his touch feather light, and hung it up as well. “You really want to talk about work? That's where you just came from, isn't it?” He said while shirking his own coat.

You flushed, embarrassed that he saw through you so easily. “It is,” you admitted. “And as long as you're alright, I don't want to talk about work.”

He smirked, reaching out to cradle your face in his hand, the other settling on your hip. “I'm perfect now, love. Although, we’re going to have a discussion about your work-life balance.”

You snorted. “Really? William ‘Never-Takes-A-Day-Off’ Weasley is going to lecture me on working too much?”

“Backtalk, too? Have you forgotten your manners while I was away?” He backed you against your kitchen island, lips a breath away from yours.

“No, sir,” you hummed, barely suppressing a grin as days worth of pent up desire came surging forth, your pulse racing between your legs.

He sighed, breath fanning against your cheek. “Merlin, you sound so pretty.” His hand on your hip moved around your back, pressing your bodies together. “Haven't felt anything soft in days,” he mumbled, almost to himself.

“Take me to bed?” You asked, brushing an escaped strand of hair from his face and tucking it behind his ear.

“Thought you'd never ask,” he chuckled and scooped you up into his arms—

Knock knock!

“Open up! We brought pizza!” The twins serenaded through the door, and Bill swiveled his head to look at you.

“Oh fuck, I completely forgot.” You squirmed and Bill set you back on your feet, though he didn't relinquish his hold. “We planned a movie night.”

“Tell them to bugger off,” he huffed, bending down to kiss your neck.

“Bill, that's rude!”

“Don't care,” he muttered, lapping at your pulse, and your mind began to drift, lost in the feeling of him.

“We’re getting soaked out here!” George called.

“Don't make me break in!” Fred warned, knocking with a little more force. “I'd hate to do it again!”

“Again?” Bill's head snapped towards the door.

“Just—fuck, get in the closet!” You tried to push Bill towards your bedroom, but only managed to move him a few steps.

“Why did he break in before?” He asked, fighting a smile at your helpless attempt to move him.

“I locked myself out! I'll get rid of them, just, please get in there!” You pushed your shoulder into his sternum, peddling your legs like cartoon character.

He sighed, taking a step back and nearly sending your sprawling onto the floor. “Ten minutes.”

“Thank you!”

Bill chuckled and walked the rest of the way into your bedroom at the same moment you heard George cast alohomora.

The twins barged in, wands raised as if you were in peril.

“What took you so bloody long?”

“Why are you just standing there?”

“Whose coat is that?”

“I, actually, um—” you wracked your brain for an excuse.

“Darling, is there a man in this flat?” George asked, lowering his voice conspiratorially.

“Uh—yes!” you whispered back. “I met him at work and we hit it off. I'm sorry, I forgot about our plans.”

George scoffed, a teasing smirk on his face. “So you'd rather have a shag then hang out with us?”

“Y’know, if you needed to blow off a little steam—” Fred started when something crashed in your closet, making the three of you jump.

“Is he…in your closet?” George raised an eyebrow.

“No, no! That's, uh—”

Fred pushed past you, striding into your room.

“Fred!” You snapped, trying to grab him, but he batted your hand away. “Just please, go.”

“You sure you know this bloke well enough to be here alone with him?” Fred asked, moving closer to the closet, the humor having drained from his voice.

“What's his name?” George asked. “Maybe Bill’s mentioned him?”

“It’s, uh—”

“You don't even know his name?” Fred whisper-shouted, glaring at you with a strange mix of pride and concern.

“No, I do! He, uh—”

“Are you okay?” George asked, his brothers concern reflected in his face. He placed a steadying hand on your shoulder. “You're shaking, love.”

“Did this prick scare you?” Fred asked, turning his attention back to the closet door.

“No! Merlin’s sake, please just go! I'm fine!”

“Hey, fuckface, what are you doing in her closet?” Fred banged on the door, and you died a little inside.

Silence echoed around the flat.

“Open the door, mate,” Fred ordered, and George pulled you a little closer to his chest.

More silence. You had no doubt Bill had apparated, and the twins were about to think you were insane.

“Three, two—” Fred yanked open the door, revealing his older brother standing in the middle of your closet, his arms crossed over his chest. “B-Bill?” Fred stammered, taking a step back.

“You two have some fucking nerve,” Bill growled, and the twins scattered as he dashed out of the closet after them.

“We're sorry! We didn't know!” George called, vaulting over your couch.

“What the fuck, y/n?” Fred shouted, diving under your bed.

“Would it kill you two to mind your own fucking business?” Bill dragged Fred out by his ankles, his little brother desperately clawing at the ground.

You'd find it funny if it weren't for your secret being out, the very thing that kept you up every night for the last two weeks.

“You're the one fucking our friend!” George shouted, effectively diverting attention from his twin.

Bill turned on him, throwing one of your pillows at his head. “I'm not fucking her!”

Fred scurried behind your bedroom door. “Then why are you here so late!”

“And hiding in like a ghoul in the closet!”

“Can we just calm down—” You tried.

“I just got back from—come here, you little shit! I just got back from Cairo and needed to check in with her—George!”

“Bullshit!” Fred countered. “You're fucking our girl!”

“Hey!”

Bill froze, turning his head to peer at Fred, pillow aloft.

“Your girl?” Bill challenged, and you groaned.

“See! I knew it! Oh fuck—” Bill chucked the pillow at Fred and he apparated at the same instant, the pillow flying right through where he was standing and landing on your bed.

“Fucker,” Bill bit.

“Congratulations on your boning! Bye!” George chirped, apparating too.

Bill sighed, turning to you.

“Couldn't keep your cool, huh?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest.

“They won't say anything,” he said, smoothing back his hair.

“I know, it's just—” Tendrils of anxiety wrapped around your throat, tightening until you were silenced.

“What, love?” He asked, taking a careful step towards you, sensing your mounting anxiety.

“What are we doing? This is—”

Bill was quiet for a moment. “You said you wanted this,” he murmured, a sharpness around the edges of his words.

“I do!” You cried, frustrated with yourself. “But that doesn't mean we should be doing it. Bill, if it got out that you were screwing your intern, your career would be over. And so would mine, before it even started. I mean, hiding from our coworkers, from your family, it’s just…”

His jaw flexed, shoulders squaring. “So you want to end things here? Go back to before we—” he scrubbed a hand over his face. “Is that what you really want?”

Tears burned your eyes, nausea churning in your stomach. “I don't know—”

“I don't believe you,” he growled. “The way you look at me, the way you were holding me not even ten minutes ago—” his voice cracked. “I don't believe that you want to end this.”

“Maybe it isn't what I want, but it's what we should do. You know that, Bill,” you said through the lump in your throat, voice pinched and small. “We need to stop before this goes too far.”

He looked like you'd slapped him. “What do you mean ‘too far’?”

You turned away from him, tears coming in earnest now. He stalked into your bedroom and caught your elbow, spinning you back around.

“Tell me what you meant,” he pleaded, pulling your hands away from you face, your eyes wet and puffy with tears.

“You know what I meant!” You shouted, yanking your hands out of his grip.

“So even with the potential for…that, you’re still going to end this?” He asked, his voice low. “That isn't worth it to you?”

You couldn't answer him, you arms wrapped around yourself as you trembled, biting back the sob on the tip of your tongue.

“Answer me,” he repeated, softening his voice.

“What if you resent me? What if you—” your voice fractured, brittle with shame and fear. “What if you regret me?”

He leaned down, forcing you to meet his eye. “There's a lot of things I regret on my life,” he said, barely above a whisper. “But I never thought I would get the chance to love someone again, not after Fenrir. Not after the war, not after the divorce—” he drew a shaky inhale.

Guilt dogged at you, and you opened your mouth to speak, but he pressed on.

“There's nothing I wouldn't risk to have that chance again. I would give up everything, my career, my house, all of it. And regardless of what happens between us, I'll never regret you.” He cupped your face again, and this time you allowed him, eyes swimming with unshed tears, your heart mending and breaking all at once.

“Bill, I—”

“Don’t say anything else. I want you to sleep on it,” he said, straightening. “Take the day off tomorrow, too. Then you can tell me what you want to do, and we'll do it.” His voice was firm, but not unkind, a tone of finality that had you nodding in acceptance. “Goodnight, love.” He pressed a kiss to your temple, then released you, apparating away before you could blink.

You were left stunned and alone in your torn apart bedroom, reeling from Bill’s words. Growing weak, your knees folded beneath you and you collapsed onto the floor, a sob bursting from your chest.

Such a coward, you scolded yourself. Of course he's worth the risk.

You wanted or rush over to Shell Cottage and tell him, beg him to forgive you for being so stupid, but he told you to sleep on it. To be sure of whatever answer you gave him. So you shirked your work wear and climbed into bed, squeezing your eyes shut, and prayed for sleep to take you swiftly.

It didn't. You laid awake for hours, until finally, at two o’clock in the morning, you couldn't stand it any longer.

You pulled on your lucky pair of jeans and jumper, washed away your smudged makeup, and apparated to Shell Cottage.

When you landed sprawled in his yard instead of standing on his front porch, it occurred to you that surprising the Curse-breaker in the middle of the night during a thunderstorm was a stupid idea, but it was too late now.

Bill wrenched open the door, hair rumpled and dressed only in sweatpants, his wand aimed at you, green wisps of magic dancing at the end of it. Thunder rolled overhead, a crack of lightning making you jump.

“Bill,” you gasped, stepping into the light of his front porch, and he nearly dropped his wand.

“Y/n? What the fuck are you—”

“I'm sorry about what I said.” You jumped headfirst into your apology, needing to get it out before it drowned you. “I was scared and stupid and I didn't mean it. I want you, no matter the risks. I can't let you—I can't let this go by without trying.” Tears will spilling down your cheeks again, mixing with the rain, your words coming out in hiccuping gasps. “I'd never forgive myself for being too cowardly to try.”

Bill bound down the steps, grabbing you by the throat and silencing you with a savage, bruising kiss. He kissed you the way a drunkard takes to a keg, ravenous and greedy. You could taste whisky on his tongue, smoke on his breath, but it only made you kiss him harder, open yourself wider for him to devour.

“Inside,” he gruffed when you broke the kiss to breathe. “Now.”

You obliged, hurrying up the slick steps with him on your tail. The cottage was cozy and dimly lit, a fireplace roaring in the corner and the moon serving as the only illumination. There were books everywhere, piles of blankets and shelves lined with trinkets, art hung on every wall.

Taking advantage of your distraction, Bill scooped you up bridal-style, one arm notched under your knees, the other around your mid-back. You gasped in surprise, but quickly settled into the warmth of his chest, leaning your head against his bare shoulder to kiss along his rain-damp clavicle.

“I told you to sleep on it,” he murmured, carrying you across the living room and up a set of stairs.

“Couldn't,” you hummed, licking a jagged scar on his shoulder. “Not without fixing things.”

“Neither could I,” he said, nudging open a door with his foot and carrying you across the threshold. It was his bedroom, decorated with even more of his findings and a giant four-poster bed made of solid wood, the quilt a thick woven masterpiece that you only got to admire for a second before he was dropping you onto it and shirking your wet clothes.

He paused, muttering an incendio to light the fire place, and you sat up, head level with his sternum. Hesitantly, you kissed a long his abdomen, tracing the dips and swells of his muscles, his scars with your lips.

He hummed low in his chest, petting a hand over your damp hair. “Whatcha doin’, pretty girl?” he asked, his voice silken.

“Nothin’,” you mumbled, licking along one his scars, growing bolder as he placated you with scalp scratches. “Wanted to touch you.”

He chuckled. “Been wanting you to touch me—” he groaned when you shifted your body to lay down on the bed, kissing along the grooves of his hips, teasing the edge of his waistband with your fingers. “Baby, you don't have to—”

You cut him by licking a stripe over the hard bulge of his cock, feeling it twitch and swell through the fabric. You nearly moaned at the feel of him, thick and long and warm, and your pussy purred, fluttering around nothing.

“You want my cock, darling?” He asked, gently sweeping your hair into a ponytail, the strands held together by his fist.

You nodded, looking up at him through your lashes.

He tsked, smirking. “I suppose I could indulge you for a bit.” With his free hand, he reached into the front his pants, freeing himself. He wrapped his hand around the base, a pearl of precum squeezing from the swollen tip.

You caught the salty morsel with your tongue, kitten licking the underside of him. He tasted fucking divine, velvety smooth and masculine, and your jaw fell open on its own accord, eager to take more of him.

“Such a good girl,” he cooed, feeding the first few inches into your mouth before retreating, patting your tongue with his cockhead when it chased him past your lips. “Fuck, look at you. So eager to please.”

He eased himself back into your mouth, holding still so you could move at your own pace, bobbing your head in slow, sloppy movements, savoring the heavy feel of him on your tongue.

Soft, breathy moans spilled from his lips, his hand tugging a bit harder at your roots. He started moving you up and down his length, his hips rocking forward, thrusting gently into your mouth. You moaned around him, fisting the sheets below you as a flood of arousal made you pussy throb.

“Oh, darling. You want me to be rough, don't you?” He hummed, pulling his hips back until just the tip rested on your tongue.

Your eyes lifted to his and you nodded the best you could. Please, please use me.

“Your safe word is ‘hex’, okay?”

You nodded again, pleading with your eyes.

He thrust back into your mouth, his fist keeping your head in place as he forced his cock as deep as it could go. He set a punishing pace, fucking your face with every ounce of the brutality you knew he kept locked up right in his chest, hidden from the world.

Now, hidden from everyone but you.

You both needed to let go of control, to surrender to the truth in your heart, and with each other, it was starting to seem not only possible, but safe.

“Such a good fucking slut, gagging on my cock—this what you wanted? To be pushed to your limits?” Bill clutched your jaw with his other hand, feeling the strain in your muscles, the force of him stretching your mouth wider, and he groaned, head tipping back on his shoulders. “I'm gonna mold that pretty little throat in the shape of my cock, yeah? You're mine. This throat is mine.”

You could only whimper, taking every savage thrust like it was a gift from god. More than happy to worship at the altar of Bill Weasley.

He withdrew suddenly, leaving you gasping for air, a thread of drool on connecting you. He craned your head back, lifting you until your hands left the mattress, back bent like a doll.

“This is it now, you understand? I won't go back.” His voice was rough with intensity, eyes shining with sincerity, vulnerability despite his hold on you.

“This is it,” you repeated, shuffling your knees underneath you and reaching for him. He loosened his hold so you could wrap your arms around his neck, molding your tender mouth against his in an attempt to convey what your were feeling, how much you needed him.

He kissed you back harder as thunder boomed above you, tongue twining with yours, and low groan loosened from his chest. He released you fully, sliding his hands down your back and scooping you up by your thighs, guiding your legs around his waist.

He held you aloft for a few moments, basking in the heat of the kiss, but it wasn't long until you were squirming in his hold, trying to create more friction between your bodies as desire blazed under your skin, raging like the storm outside.

In a quick movement, he broke the kiss and dropped you back onto the bed, sprawled on your back. Before you had time to process what happened, his rough hands forced your thighs apart, revealing the puffy, drippy state of you. One of his hands slid up to part your folds, exposing your sensitive bundle of nerves to the cool air of the room.

Again, you had the echo of the feeling that you were an artifact under his jurisdiction, being examined with the utmost attention, like the code to cracking you open was written on your skin.

Bill saw you down to the soul, and it terrified and exhilarated you in equal measure.

“You're perfect,” he murmured, moving to ease his middle finger inside of you, curling his knuckle to prod that gooey spot inside you and draw a moan from your lips. “The most beautiful curse I've ever had to break.”

“Bill,” you whined, hands grabbing at the sheets, hips trying to rock against his hand, needing more.

He smirked. “Seems I've already broken you, needy little thing. Haven't even gotten started.” He leaned down, laving his tongue over your clit before sucking it between his teeth, and you keened, vision tunneling as bliss washed over you. The relief so palpable it brought tears to your eyes.

He added a second finger, setting a slow but intense pace, stretching and molding you with his fingers, his mouth messily slurping on your clit to keep you loose and moaning beneath him. Pleasure signed every nerve, burning through your muscles like lactic acid, eating into your bones until they were gelatinous, a puddle of simpering goo on Bill’s bed. He was doing just enough to elicit pleasure but not enough to make you cum, and it was starting to make you desperate again, bucking your hips against him in search of more.

“Hush,” he scolded, swatting at your inner thigh when you opened your mouth to beg. “You'll be begging me to stop coming soon enough.”

You couldn't tell if it was a promise or a threat, but either way, you snapped your mouth shut, a fresh wave of arousal making your pussy clench around his fingers.

He took some mercy on you though, and picked up the pace with his fingers fucking you with his hand while he kissed up your stomach, leaving a trail of slick from his chin over your stomach to your tits. He guided a pert nipple into his mouth, lashing it with his tongue before sucking hard, and your back bowed off the bed as you cried out for him.

You tangled your fingers into his hair, urging him closer, and he obliged, bathing your tits with his lips and tongue, using his teeth to elicit sharp gasps of pain before soothing the sting with pleasure. Your orgasm began to build, winding like a gear in your low belly until you were barely able to breathe, every scrap of energy drawn to the apex of your thighs.

“Merlin, your tight, love,” he murmured against the side of your tit, kissing his way back down between your legs. “Ready to come for me?”

“Please, Bill—fuck, please,” you mewled, dragging him by the hair to your needy clit.

“So pretty when you beg,” he purred, swirling his tongue just around your clit, careful to avoid direct contact. “Who does this pussy belong to?”

“You,” you immediately answered, trying to chase his tongue with your pelvis. “I'm yours, Bill.”

He grinned. “That's right. Mine.” With that, he fastened his lips around your clit and sucked hard, curling his fingers against your g-spot at the same moment, and something inside you gave way. You came with a scream, bliss bursting through like a tsunami and dragging you under.

It filled your mind and soul, an endless torrent of bliss drowning you in its bottomless depth. When if finally spit you back out, gasping and overwrought on the shore of Bill's bed, he was still lapping at you, his face and shirt soaked with your release.

“Good fucking girl, well done,” he cooed, withdrawing his fingers to massage the ache from your trembling thighs, his tongue dipping down to drink at the pool of your pleasure. “Twice more, now. That's my girl.”

You shook your head, feeling like a wrung out sponge, but sure enough, Bill has to ratcheted back up in no time, screaming his name, clenching around his fingers as you came a second and third time. It was like magic, the way he coaxed your body into doing what he wanted, even when you thought you couldn't. Playing you like an instrument, drawing whatever song he wanted from your body.

When you came down from the third, twitching and raw, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes, he finally relented.

“Did so well, darling,” he cooed, easing his fingers from you and licking them clean. “Are you alright?” He asked, resting his cheek on your thigh as you caught your breath.

You nodded, grasping at his hair again to pull him up your body. He obliged with a chuckle, letting you crash your mouth to his in a desperate, messy kiss, your essence on his tongue making your head spin even more.

“Fuck me, please,” you mumbled into his mouth, wrapping your legs around his waist and tugging him fully onto the bed.

“Insatiable,” he purred with approval, shifting to slide down his sweatpants fully and kicking them off. He grasped himself, sawing through your drenched slit with a groan. “This was all I could think about in Cairo,” he rasped. “Being balls deep in this fucking pussy, feeling your wrapped around me, squeezing my cock the way you do my fingers.”

“Please, baby. Need you so bad,” you whined, rocking your hips in time with his.

“Need doesn't begin to cover what I'm feeling.” His voice was a strained growl, a primal sort of plea, and it drew another whimper from your chest. “You remember your safe word?” He asked, nearly trembling with effort of not burying himself to the hilt.

You nodded. “Yes, sir.”

He shuddered, a breathy moan fanning against your neck, as his control severed. He slammed his cock into you, sheathing himself completely in your depths, and you both cried out, clinging to one another as he dragged his hips back, then slammed them forward again and again. Rutting into you like a feral beast. Brutalizing every inch of your overworked pussy, your overworked mind, until you were brainless, boneless, his to claim entirely.

“Feels even fucking better—shit, baby. So fucking tight and hot, so wet f’me. My perfect little cunt takin’ me so well.”

You could only moan and nod, eager as a bobblehead. “Yours,” you parroted, digging your nails into his shoulders.

“Mine,” he gruffed, yanking your head back by your hair so he could ravish your neck with his teeth and tongue.

You were so sensitive from before that you could already feel that knot tightening a fourth time, making you flutter and clench around him as he railed you.

“Come for me, love. Give it to me,” he growled, his free hand dipping down to work your clit, his thrusts growing rougher by the second. Tearing you apart on his cock.

Nothing else would ever satisfy you the way he was, he was molding you into the shape of him, ruining you for anyone else. No one could please you the way he did, understand your body so viscerally, so completely, that it bowed to him before it did you.

He owned you mind, body, and soul, and you wouldn't have it any other way, because you knew that you owned him too. Like a lion on a leash.

“Come with me, come with me,” you cried, your trembling body trying to meet him thrust for thrust.

“Fuck yes,” he huffed, breath hot and heavy against your neck. “Gonna paint this cunt white. Make you mine.”

“Yes, yes! Fuck, Bill, I’m—” You came so hard you couldn't even scream, your mouth falling open as pleasure exploded from your center, a bomb detonating in the depths of your soul.

Bill sank in his teeth into your neck, bottoming out while his cock kicked inside of you, fulfilling his promise and painting your insides with his release. You collapsed onto the bed, scattered pieces in the swallow of space, half-there with Bill as he fucked you both through it, kissing at your neck and muttering praise, and half-gone, a disembodied soul floating on a river of bliss.

Slowly, you returned piece by piece until air slammed back into your lungs and you were gasping, shivering, clinging desperately to him.

“Sh, sh I’ve got you. You're alright,” he shushed, shifting on the bed to fold you into his chest, raining kisses over your forehead and temple. “You did so well, my love. I'm so proud of you.”

“That was—” you panted, feeling the race of his heart under his skin, in perfect synchronicity with yours.

“I've never felt anything like that,” he murmured, nosing into your hair and taking a deep breath. “Like you.”

“Me neither.” You wrapped your arms around his middle snuggling closer. “You're a madman,” you chuckled, and you felt him smile.

“Only for you.”

You were quiet for awhile, the room filled with the sounds of your laborers breathing, the onslaught of rain on the roof, the pop and crackle of the fire.

“I'm sorry for leaving like that before,” Bill whispered, breaking the drowsy quiet. “I didn't trust myself to not lash out…” his voice trailed off, his hands tightening a bit around your body, like he was scared you'd pull away from him at the reminder of before.

“Thank you for trying to protect me,” you responded, lightly tracing the scars along his back, and tension in his body melted.

“Nothing’s going to hurt you, especially not me,” he said, lifting his head to look into your eyes, his dark irises so soft and sincere. “You really think you could fall for me?” He asked, bumping your nose with his.

“I think I've already started,” you whispered, bashful, and he beamed, catching your lips in a light, languid kiss.

“I know I was supposed to be the one teaching you…” he murmured against your mouth, kissing along your jaw, down your neck. “But you've opened my eyes so much, helped me learn the lessons I was avoiding—” his voice caught, and he buried his face in your neck, holding your naked body pressed against his, not even air separating you. “I feel like I can be the man I want to be with you,” he confessed, pressing a kiss to the bite mark he'd left along the curve of your throat. “Like I don't have to hide anymore.”

“You're mine too,” you whispered, and he loosed a breathy sound, almost like a whine, and held you even tighter. “And I want you exactly as wild and stubborn and clever and complex as you are.”

Bill shifted upwards, catching your final words with his mouth, moving purposefully, indulgently, against yours. Saying everything he couldn't express with words, and your heart was so full it started leaking from your eyes, tears snaking down your cheeks and getting caught in the kiss.

He moved his lips to catch your tears, shushing you softly. “I'm yours,” he said, pecking your lips again. “And I have those good-for-nothing jackasses to thank for it.”

You burst out laughing, flopping back onto his pillows. “They're going to be so damn smug.”

Bill groaned, burying his face in your tits. “Worth it when I get to show you off and crush their dreams.”

“They'll live,” you giggled, combing your fingers through his hair.

Bill's alarm suddenly blared from the side table. “Silencio,” he barked, and the clock fell silent once again. “We're calling out,” he mumbled.

You nodded, sleep already starting to tug at you, your limbs going heavy on the mattress. “As long as the boss says it's okay.”

He huffed a laugh. “Good thing he's a pretty laid back guy.”

You rolled your eyes behind closed lids, and hummed in agreement. That was a lesson for another day.

Thank you so much for reading and supporting this series! This is the last part of the core series, but I'm considering doing a few extra drabbles that go along with it (let me know if there's anything in particular you want to see!)

taglist: @itisjustwhatitis, @carmenschemtrails, @karina-v20, @acourtofexiles, @meteora-fc, @l1nd3n, @just-some-random-blogger, @astralissas, @novausstuff, @babyearthquakementality, @slytherin-min99, @buendiabebeta, @littlemadamred, @nislame, @mother-homunculus, @dreamyassasin, @lottalove4evelyn, @mmmunson, @th0tformikasa, @katie-tibo, @comicalivy, @polireader

[herbert-west]

"it is absolutely not disrespectful to the creator of a gif for me to say i killed ashley" It is. People don't create content with characters they don't like. Every gif you see, every piece of art, every fic is a love letter to certain characters. And you just came in and stomped your little foot and said, "Well, I don't like her!"

Again, you could have done that in a separate post, but instead you yelled it in the creator's face. It's disrespectful. It's not about Ashley, it's about you deciding to insert your very important opinion where it shouldn't be, wasting their time and insulting them. Reblog the stuff you like, avoid the stuff you hate, you're an adult, you should have figured that out by now. "because yelling at me for putting a tag on a post i reblogged is genuinely not mature, normal adult behavior" Dude, you showed the most basic disrespect to the creator, got called out for it (without even mentioning your name), and instead of handling the situation like an adult, you doubled down. You caused it. It's completely your fault.

And no one is yelling at you, I'm not your fucking parent, I'm just kindly asking you to avoid doing something like this in the future because getting tags like this or nasty replies to your posts really fucking sucks and I don't wish it on anyone.

If this falls on deaf ears, so be it, at least I tried.

kindly asking me?? i think you may be so deeply entrenched in the tumblr discourse wars that youve forgotten how to talk to people. again, it is not disrespectful for me to tag a post. thats not yelling in the creators face, its tagging a post.

this is just so insanely dramatic 😂 i have tagged a million posts with a million opinions and never have i ever had this kind of wild response. take care of yourself

[thedelusionreaderbitch]

Fred Weasley x male! Reader - Fred Weasley is sure his family thinks his boyfriend is a lunatic

A/n: the reader lives in the usa, normally I wouldn't try and mention where the reader lives (I don't live in the us) but it felt better with this fic. Also we live for badass muggle readers, there will be many more to come!

Warnings: Swearing, fighting (physically), the reader having some mental health problems but it isn't touched upon further then you can read, I think that's it? You have been warned!

Summary: Being introduced to Fred's family as his muggle american boyfriend already makes you sound like some exotic animal to them. It probably won't help that you have another secret just waiting to come out...

The three P's:

[Pov: 2nd person] [Pronouns used: you/your, he/him] [Pairings: (romantic!) fred x reader, (platonic!) fred/reader x the order/weasley family, (mentioned romantic!) Hermione x ron, (mentioned parental! harry x sirius]

I do NOT support J. K. Rowling, or any transphobic/homophobic things she says (or anything she says really), or TERFS!

You stared up at the ceiling of the Grimwald place with your hands laid on to the sides without a care in the world, opposing the anxious feeling bubbling in your throat.

You closed your eyes as you heard the familiar whispers of the other members of the Weasley family and the "order" replaying in your mind; "A boyfriend, a muggle boyfriend? And an American!" You must have been something to gauk at.

They looked at you as if you were some strange enigma not a newly graduate from your public highschool that wasn't fancy, and no, did not have moving staircases.

Who the fuck would want staircases that moved and that someone could potentially fall down? It seemed like a major safety hazard to you. Though all of Hogwarts seemed like a violation of the welfare of children from all the bits that Fred had told you about, although you're sure your city was much worse.

Where you lived there was crime left and right, and so much of the police were corrupt that it was dangerous to walk at night without someone beside you in case you got jumped.

Damn it, you were not supposed to think about crime right now, because it would just make you more anxious and jumpy and it always sent your spider senses aloof. Yet all you could think about was your city, without it's hero - Spiderman, to protect it. You just prayed while you were away the villains decided to take a break too.

The door to your room opened and your body immediately stood up, triggering it's flight or fight response with your muscles tensing up and you mentally preparing yourself for a fight.

Only to see Fred Weasley, your boyfriend enter the room.

Holy hell, you really were going insane.

Letting out a sigh of relief you let yourself fall against Fred and let your head rest on his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around you.

"Tired?"

"Hm."

"Was it my father asking relentless questions, or them thinking you were a friend, and me having to come out of the closet?"

You lift your head and smile lazily at his cheeky grin on his face as he teased you.

"Wouldn't you say wardrobe?"

Fred rolled his eyes. "You Americans always butchering our way of speaking, it's wardrobe, and no. Saying "coming out of the wardrobe" sounds absolutely ridiculous."

You laugh at him and close your eyes, you let your worries about being in England and leaving your city unprotected slowly ebb away with Fred's presence. He always had that affect on you, calming you, letting your mind settle down from the endless ways that people could be dying and how you could be failing to save them.

Not that he knew of course.

When Fred was trying out a new product for Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, he had accidentally gotten teleported to your house in America. Well it was your aunt's house at the time but that was besides the point.

It scared the ever living shit out of you, and you nearly thought he was a super villain with immense powers. No, it was just some stupid boy who had been mistakenly apparated to your residency and who couldn't get back because he didn't have his wand on him when he did.

"Freddie- or whatever your name is, I have a feeling you're not in England anymore."

After introducing you to magic, he was stayed at your place for three months, because you had no way to buy him a plane ticket to London, as you were barely scraping by as is. And someone would have to show him the terrors of an airport and how to navigate (that person being you) meaning you would need two tickets.

Eventually he found a witch who would apparate him back, although he was hesitant. He didn't want to leave you.

Reasoning with him that his family probably thought he was dead (also considering he did tell you there was a war with some dark wizard named Morty?) So he did, not before he confessed to you and decided he would come see you every weekend.

Then every weekend, became every other day and every other day became every day after work.

He was with you through everything and had told you things about himself his twin didn't even know, insecurities not meant for the cruel world. He was there for you when aunt may died, and when your best friend did too.

Yet you couldn't tell him your secret, that you were Spiderman. That you went out every night and saved people from getting hurt - or worse. Maybe more simply put that you were bitten by a radioactive spider that gave you superpowers (heighten senses, the ability to climb walls, webs, heightened intelligence, healing factor, spidey senses, super strength, super speed, super reflexes, superhuman durability, and immunity to wizard spells) and when your uncle died made you want to become a capped crusader without a cape that saved people?

Alright, perhaps that is a bit harder to explain.

Still you felt guilty that you hadn't told him, the two of you had been together for two years, he deserved to know.

"You alright there love?" Fred asked you as he ran a hand through your hair. "I seemed to have lost you there for a minute."

An American, muggle, boyfriend; man his family must have stared at you like a freak in a cage and you didn't notice.

"Fred I have to-"

You cut yourself off as your spidey sense started "tingling" more like blaring in your brain.

Quickly you pushed Fred to the left side of the room as a women in some weird sliver mask and black gown (that must not have been good for running after people in,) appeared out of some black smoke.

Emo much?

A spell whosed out of her wand as it hit the wall behind you two and you blankly wondered (not minding the danger) if she was in a cult.

It definitely wasn't one of yours that's for sure, usually they had better costumes.

"They've gotten passed our defenses!" A yell was heard from outside your secluded room and you couldn't be bothered to identify who it was before Fred casted some spell that made the women fall down straight like a board.

You could admire the irony in that.

Fred looked at you with confusion in his eyes. "How did you- It doesn't matter, you stay in here, okay? It's not safe out there."

Oh it was deatheaters, the people they were at war with. So you were right, it was a cult, to be fair it wasn't just any cult, it was the cult.

Fred quickly casts a spell under his breath over towards the lady now stiffed on the ground and closed to door on your face. As he locked it without even touching it.

You cursed, stupid magic, stupid people, stupid boyfriend, you had to get to them and help. You knew you could help because you were sure Wizards that hated anyone who wasn't "pure" and hated muggles didn't carry guns, making them incredibly useless. In addition to that wouldn't they not learn basic self defense because that would be below them or something?

So it would be mostly a saving-people-from-dying mission, you hated those.

"Because someone always ends up dying." A voice in the back of your mind speaks, way too happily when talking about death.

You slam the side of your body against the door as it flew off the hinges and you ran out to help the others. Whoops, hopefully you wouldn't have to pay for that.

You had the advantage of sneaking in, so you climbed up the walls so that you were sticking to the roof. It was strange climbing again in regular clothes, you usually did it in your spidey suit. It reminded you of when you were just starting out and freaking out about your powers, it nearly made you chuckle

Spotting Fred's twin - George (yes you could tell them apart it wasn't that hard) in a tough spot with two deatheaters cornering him you decided it was your time to jump into action before someone got hurt.

"Hey asshole!" You yelled at his perpetrators from the ceiling. "It's over, I have the high ground!"

Then you dropped from the ceiling on one of their faces.

The masked deatheater that you jumped on crumbled to the ground and hit their head on the floor and didn't make another noise. You didn't have time to check their pulse and make sure you didn't accidentally kill them as the other one sent a spell flying your way.

You giggled at their stunned expression when the spell did absolutely nothing to you.

"Ya, that isn't going to work buddy." You spoke confidentially before leaping towards them and punching them in the face.

"But may the force me with you!" You yelled as you threw your arm back to readying it for another punch.

You hit them just with the right amount of force, and just in the right place that they would get knocked out. You didn't want to do some brain damage or anything. You're sure there were some Wizard police or something that could take care of them, and they most likely would want to extract information from them too considering they were in war right now.

Okay two down, ten more to go? This is the best break ever!

Molly, Fred's mum was firing spell after spell at people, and didn't seem to need any help, and Sirius Black (escaped wrongly convicted?) was also just doing fine as he fought along side his godson. Harry Potter, the kid who the leader of the deatheater cult really wanted to kill because he couldn't kill a fucking baby. Although, he always waited at the end of the year to either try and kill him or apprehend him.

Well, at least Morty cared about the kid's education right?

You scanned your eyes around the room and they fell on Fred's youngest sister who was fighting along side Ron, and Hermione (who should really fuck already) and looked to be losing.

To be fair, three kids versus five adults? Didn't exactly seem fair to you.

You judo kicked one of them, before throat punching another, then knocking one on the jaw (you really hoped it wasn't broken,) while dodging some strikes coming your way.

"Here's Johnny!" You screamed.

Next you webbed the fourth cult member's arms and legs together, and finally you got the last one in a choke-hold cutting off their air supply before they fell to the ground on conscious.

You fought the remaining one off before having your short victory of them all being alive but unable to move or open their eyes.

"Bloody hell, I know, you're that superhero from America - Spiderman!" Ron exclaims.

Winking at him you let your spidey sense guide you to the next danger.

"I'm Batman." You grudge in your best Bruce Wayne impression possible before throwing your head back with laughter.

"Yes, it's Spiderman." You clarify, at their perplexed expressions and their wonderment of your sanity.

Suddenly your brain flared and you shot a web at Fred quicker than the speed of light and pulled him towards you with it as a spell that was bright green that sounded like "abracadabra" narrowly missed him.

You felt like you knew the spell, you feel like Fred had told you about it specifically- Oh. It was the killing curse.

That Bastard tried to murder your boyfriend.

Rage filled your veins that you hadn't felt since your uncle died, an old friend that come to greet you with a dagger in it's hands that had your name on it.

This was had to end now.

You took down the rest of the deatheaters swiftly even if the idiots had figured out you were immune to magic they were no match for you.

Then, some white light, smokey stuff came from out of nowhere and people stepped out of it. You almost go to attack them only to see that they didn't don the stupid all black gowns, nor the sliver cult masks with designs only children would call creepy.

Was this the rest of the order?

"The the fuck happened here." Some guy spoke with an mechanical eye, but not really mechanical eye? It just looked everywhere at any point? You were so confused honestly.

You're pretty sure the most emotion you've been feeling this entire time has been confusion.

"Sorry, did I step on your moment?" You question them with a toothy grin while your boyfriend marveled at you with a bright red blush covering his ears and cheeks.

"Merlin, that was so hot."

You throw your head back in laughter as George elbows Fred who continues to ogle at you.

"So you're not mad?" You ask him as your eyes flash with fear.

"Mad? Why would I be mad?" He chuckles and comes forward to wrap an arm around your waist.

"Well I kinda didn't tell you and you told me about your wizard thingy..." You trail off, as your hands fidget with each other.

"As much as this is sweet-" The man with mechanical the eye starts up with a grumble.

"No, no, I want to see how this will play out." A women with pink hair smirks.

"Were you going to tell me eventually?" Fred continues.

"Yes, why wouldn't I?"

"Exactly, you just had to tell me in your own time."

You gaped at the man in front of you, you couldn't believe that this wizard is yours.

"I love you so much!" You threw your arms around Fred's neck.

"Mate!" Ron piped up. "Fred's boyfriend just annihilated a bunch of deatheaters like they were flies! How is hugging him now?!"

Fred just ignores his brother as he places a kiss on your brow.

"I love you too, you crazy spider."

Bonus 1:

"I think my family is terrified of you now." Fred whispers in your ear as you glance over Ron who's shaking slightly as he leans over to Hermione and mutters something to her along the lines of; "He took down twelve deatheaters! Of course I'm scared!"

"That's what Ron's telling Hermione right now."

Fred stares at you, an astonished look appearing over his freckles.

"You can hear them, from here!"

"It's called super hearing babe."

"I know you, already explained your powers to me! But you willingly listened in on them!"

You bashfully turned your head. "I was just curious!"

"Who are you, and what have you done with Y/n!"

"You caught me! I'm Bond, James Bond."

Bonus 2:

"You know Morty and his deatheaters should really learn self defense." You state with your arms crossed around your chest. "I'm seriously concerned about their physical well beings!"

Fred looked over at you as his face split into a grin and his belly filled with uncontrollable laughter.

"Did you just call Voldemort, Morty!"

"That isn't his name?"

Words 2511

-thedelusionreaderbitch

Hp Taglist: @regulusblackswhorecrux

[marisoft-paint-adventures]

Pgs. 47-59

truly the best part about any guardian is their insane and overwhelming obsession with 1 very particular and niche type of object for what seems like no discernable reason. Dad Egbert is this fucking suburban blue collar working man, the poster child of the American dream, and for some fucking reason he REALLY likes HARLEQUINS.

not just CLOWNS, HARLEQUINS, very particular genre of the clown medium, personally I’m more into jesters.

he even considers them a GIFT, a LIFE-SIZED STUFFED HARLEQUIN for YOUR CHILD.

the harlequin that also causes all of Homestuck to happen of course.

and he just

bakes shit.

not just as in he likes to bake, he continually bakes shit as a pastime and just leaves it all around the house. there is a WHOLE CAKE on the fucking COUCH.

this really speaks to why Dad’s 1 of my absolute favorites, because I knew people like this as a kid. parents or family friends who were, by all accounts, completely normal and average people, but just had That 1 Thing about em I simply could not comprehend. 1 of them had as many Thomas Kinkade paintings as I could register in my head, they were all so sappy you’d think you walked into the fucking forest. another guy had the most typical suburban home ever, but on random shelves you would just see Jesus statue, Jesus statue, Jesus statue, just this whole collection of biblical figures top to bottom.

I felt seen when I was introduced to Dad, he’s just such a guy.

and then you have John over here, whose narration has been implying some form of discontent with his father. the comic was keeping things vague until now, but it seemed like there was something about Dad that John just didn’t like. maybe they can’t connect probably? maybe Dad is too strict? maybe John is too rebellious?

no.

it’s the FUCKING CAKES AND CLOWNS.

the 2 THINGS that SINKS THIS KID’S ENTIRE PERCEPTION OF HIS PARENTAL FIGURE.

BAKED GOODS, specifically produced by Betty Crocker,

and THE PERFORMANCE ART OF CLOWNERY.

could you imagine talking about your parents with John in the room, like-

“oh yeah, my mom’s kind of an ass. she forced me to buy my own phone with money I got from jobs when I was only 14.”

“oh lemme tell ya something! my dad, he can’t stop making cakes! and there’s harlequins all over the walls and shelves! I can’t stand it!”

I would say 1st world problems but no world is suited for whatever fucking issue the collection of jokesters is.

this is the kind of thing that puts me off of abusive Dad interpretations or fics, because there is absolutely no genuine angst between him and John at all. the Egbert household has no real human problems, they have a scuffle in regards to if the classical goofy performers of ye olde times are valid or not.

if we had June happen and she came out to Dad, his 1st response would not be something shitty and mean like “WRONG!!! YOU ARE NOT A WOMAN YOU ARE MY SON!!! BE MANLY!!!” he’d think that the best way to celebrate this would be making a gender reveal cake stuffed with fucking Weird Pink Slime, and then proceed to gift the little girl a Harley Quinn shirt because she’s a Girl Clown.

“DENNIS WILL HAVE HIS REVENGE”

~ Andrew Hussie.

[tanglepelt]

I have read the comics. I put that in my tags of the first response. Not all them cause who has time for that. But that’s why me reblogs and stuff i do tend to stay within the same people.

Trigon being a punching bag is funny. Two tiny overpowered teens is funny. Plus literally one of Danny’s powers is called supernatural resistance.

Danny has an insane power set. As i also said dc characters could handle him. He is untrained inexperienced and tends to forget his power set. But it’s still insane.

Ignorance of the source material kinda falls in line with fannon. I wouldn’t call it that regardless. It’s taking things we like and doing what we want. It’s using characters we enjoy and doing stupid stuff.

My stuff will always tend to lean toarwds Danny phantoms universe taking the lead then dcs. Cause Danny phantom. Much easier to digest. He is just a Silly little bean.

I think it’d be funny to seee beast boy turn into a giant t-Rex and eat trigon. Not at all possible be funny tho. I’d enjoy the hell out of that.

John being forced to be fatherly. Ehh. Not likely. But fun to see and write. Look at batfam. In the comics bruce sucked a lot. Look at how he trained the robins in some renditions. Like dick was forced to eat a rat. Then the whole “gift” he gave to tim for his birthday.

The newer stuff definitely makes him less worse then before. Wayne family adventures i absolutely adore. That one paints him in a light I’d never had put him before. But still i love it. I eat up batfam chaos. Good father Bruce stuff.

I enjoy fics that are well written that completely go against cannon. Things that would never happen. Read a bleach fic where ichigo absolutely was a wimp. Couldn’t do squat. Stripped of his normal personality and completely changed it. Basically just using the characters names and that was all. It was super well written had a funny storyline and i loved it.

There are people who haven’t read the comics. Who cares? Let them make silly content as well. Heck the only reason i stared to read flash’s comic was from a prompt that made the flash’s seem cool. People using characters even if it’s “poorly done” can bring people to actually read comics.

I’ve read fics i know nothing about the source material. Never seen a single episode. Loved them. Came to watch the show. Absolute mis characterization. Still enjoyed the fic and then enjoyed reading more accurate portrayals.

This is going to be the last time i respond to this. I tend to ignore reblogs telling me stuff isn’t possible and things are way ooc. The only reason i responded was because of what you said. It really annoyed me. Especially when it was 1 am. But Mainly it was the tag: disappointed.

And you totally have the right to be disappointed in what the story turned into. Not at all likely to happen like that.

Like yea. There is stuff I’m disappointed in from these crossovers. Certain ones i don’t like cause i didn’t like what they did to dc characters. Some where i can’t stand what they did to dp characters as well. But I’m not gonna go asking if they ever read a comic. Or if they ever watched the show. I just keep scrolling. You could of done a post about how inaccurate it was. Would of agreed and i would of kept on moving with my life.

Dc x dp idea 109

Danny and Ellie keep summoning ancient demonic beings.

It started as a joke. Just them doing silly trends and summoning the most recent cyrtid. Moth man and what. They didn’t expect it to work. But they did.

So they moved on to the less. “Nice” beings.

Really after the 10th entity they should of stopped. But they were fun to fight and well… Honestly when they went to summon these things it shouldn’t of worked. They never did the circles and certainly didn’t sacrifice anyone.

They wanted to see what all they could summon.

Constantine is now stuck on a case with the bat. To find out which cult is summoning countless enemies. He unfortunately can’t track it by magic.

There is no circles or anything left in the air. These things just pop up and ever magic user can feel this world ending threat. Then poof. Just gone.

The cult may be dealing with the entities? Whether making deals or just sending them it was a problem.

How long until it was something the cult couldn’t handle and how many more would be sacrificed?

Unknown to all parties. Halfas apparently read as sacrifices, the entities can’t tell the sacrifice is half alive. They only feel the dead part.

[lilbitofmac]

Any (sfw) ironstrange fic refs?

Sorry for the late response on this— my memory is always pretty spotty, so I have trouble recalling good fics to recommend!

I’ll give you a top ten request, how about that? These are all AO3 fics!

End of Infinity by FriendlyNeighborhoodFangirls — I feel like if you’re a big shipper of ironstrange, you’ve gotta check out this absolute masterpiece of a fic!! It’s a suuuper slowburn, clocking in at 291+ chapters and still ongoing. Normally, I don’t read fics that aren’t finished, but trust me this one had me sobbing for days. Check out their other works, as well!!

The Blood in Your Veins by Aelaer — Wowowow, this fic absolutely shook me to my core. If you’re okay with some heavy angst, I would 10000% recommend this. Aelaer’s writing is so engaging and the care and understanding they have of Stephen and Tony’s perspectives and motivations are *chef’s kiss* Also, any fic that can actually make me care about the original characters within it? Automatically raises my respect for them.

The Sorcerer of Ephemeral Colors by Imagined — I LOVE FANTASY AUs FOR THIS SHIP!!!! Mage Stephen and Prince Tony go together so fucking well, I could go absolutely insane UGGHH!! This is another big boy fic, but the progression and story-telling, as well as the world-building are done so well!! If you like Fantasy AUs, you’ll love this fic!

(Sober) Companion by funkylittleidiot — It’s been a minute since I read this one, but I was thinking about picking it up again! Another AU fic, this time No Powers with the twist of Stephen helping people recover from their addictions! I wasn’t so sure about the premise at first, but honestly I loved how the author handled the subject matter from what I can remember. Heavy on the Tony angst. I really just love fics where Stephen takes care of Tony =w=;; I think this one is sfw? I really need to reread it 😅

The One to Bet On by airas_story — UGHHHH I LOVE THEIR WORK SO MUCH!!!! This is another fic that’s still ongoing! I am absolutely a SUCKER for time traveler Tony. It is so interesting to see what he does in the past to fix the future, and so far I’m really enjoying where they’re taking the story! Check out their other fics, as well, if you enjoy this one!!

Embers by surveycorpsjean — Idk man this is just a soft fic with these two 🥺💕 Steve and the other Avengers do make an appearance; there’s no character bashing or anything like that, but they don’t take up too much time in the fic! Stephen is just so smitten in this, and I absolutely adore it. Also another author you should check out their other works!

A witch’s cat by harpywrites — TONY GETS STEPHEN A CAT, AND ITS THE CUTEST THING EVER UGGHHH!!! Such a soft, feel-good fic, I absolutely love how Harpy writes Tony here. Seriously, if you just want a quick fic to make you smile, this is the one for you. If you want some heavy Stephen angst, though, check out the rest of Harpy’s works!! She loves to torture the poor sorcerer 💀

dream a little dream of me by DarkKitty1208 — You asked for sfw fics, so I’m not sure how deep angst can get before you call it quits? But if you’re cool with it, I highly recommend this one. Heavy Stephen angst with Tony helping him through his struggles; the imagery in this fic is stunning!!! Kitty has a very good understanding of Stephen and his struggles, so it’s super engaging to see this man trying and failing to cope with his demons! If you want more Stephen angst, check out Kitty’s LIBRARY of fics. Stephen never catches a break istg.

The Affection Thief by airas_story — I’m cheating by including them again on this list, but mostly it’s because I’ve run out of sfw fics 😅 THIS ONE IS SO DAMN CUTE!!!! Stephen gets turned into a cat and shenanigans ensue!! It’s such a simple concept, but the way my heart melted at how they wrote Stephen in this *sobs*

Annnd I’ll cheat for the final one, too.

Prophets in the Graveyard by FriendlyNeighborhoodFangirls — Another Fantasy AU fic because god I can’t get enough of them!!! This time with a murder mystery twist ohohoho! Another long boy with a slowburn because I love to torture myself in the best of ways. Again, this author just handles world-building, pacing, and characterization so so so fucking beautifully in their works. If you haven’t read from them, I beg of you to check out their fics!!

(Honorable Mention: you should absolutely also check out atypicalsnowman’s collection of works. I particularly love their “whatever souls are made of” fic, but it does have eventual smut!! Just seeing how Stephen and Tony would navigate a situation where they use a soul bond to defeat Thanos is ugghh so good.)

[joshriku]

Hello! do you have any cherik fic recs?

i have . so many. (pukes and cries) this is gonna be long but to start off i'm gonna give you my ultimate faves of like. each iteration. so i can be insane. i won't make summaries bc im bad i will just tell you how insane i am.

general thing that none of these have a sad ending or triggering topics bc im. im . I Like Happiness

-curses that can't be lifted by sotano: see. this is about cherik early comics canon right. when they just met in haifa. AND OOOOOOO GH oGH oghghgOGOH I LOVE LEAVING COMMENTS. I LEAVE LONG COMMENTS. I AM VERY ILL IN THE BRAIN WHEN IT COMES TO LEAVING COMMENTS. BUT I LITERALLY STILL CANT FIGURE OUT WHAT TO SAY IN THIS BC I LOVE IT SO MUCH. LIKE ILL COME AROUND EVENTUALLY OF COURSE. BUT IVE READ IT LIKE 50 TIMES AND ITS SO GOOD ITS SO GOOD IT MAKES ME DERANGED i was reading it yesterday again. as i do. and i had to close the tab bc it made me so unwell. i'm so normal

-afterlife by anna: this fic is so good but for my mental health it's in shambles. You don't get it. i'll be pacing around my room thinking back of scenes in this and im like ALRIGHT. PAUSE TO THROW UP AND CRY. EVER SINCE IVE READ THIS I HAVEN'T BEEN THE SAME DO YOU UNDERSTAND. IT'S POST DAYS OF FUTURE PAST AND THAT MAKES ME SO ILLLLLLL I LOVE DOFP SO BAD AND I LOVE CHARLES IN IT AND im like oh man i need something to make me cry and puke and shit myself and cure my depression im gonna read that fic again. And i do it. and i am cured. after i cry myself out to this i am so normal again

-someplace that is green by mugsandpugs: oh my god. Also bad for my mental health like (pucnhign myself) YOU DONT UNDERSTAND. it's technically x-men evolution but if you know cherik you'll understand it either way so. just. wow. erik can fit so much trauma. I can fit so many emotions. i can be so mentally ill. IREAD IT SO MUCH LIEK THE SLOOOOOWWBWBURRNNNNNNNNN AHH AHH AHH (PUKES AND CRIES) AHH WANDA AND PIETRO. AH. DEAR GOD. U DONT GET IT !!!!!! THE WORLDBUILDIGN!! (curls up and cries)

ok yeah. i'll put under the cut all the other recs i have sorry for being unwell

you should read everything by ao3 user sotano btw. not to be demented or deranged. but they never miss. everything they ever write is so . Oh my god. U dont get it. im ill. i will buy them a house

-tabula rasa by o2doko: the telepathy exploration of this goes so fucking hard

-fair verona by ha_neul: i love gender so much you don't ungerstand trans fics are the world to me they really arre

-tesselation by nekosmuse: oh my god. i mean it's a popular fic so it's probably been read. BUT THE SLAY. GOD. THE WRITING. PUKES AND DIES

-travel advisory by penknife: SORRY FOR RECCING 2003 FICS BUT FLOGOGHGOGOGH THE 2003 PEOPLE GOT IT IN WAYS NOBODY ELSE DIDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD!

-no capes by dedkake: this just hits all the spots of needing lighthearted comedy and keeping the magneto / professor x dynamic i so desperately crave. i love when authors play around with their identities while loosely sticking to canon hehe

-all these miles (just to get back home) by isthiswhatiam: you gotta read everything he posts tbh BUT this one is my personal fav i love post dark phoenix u_u

-in dreams begin responsibility by kass: im telling u the pre 2011 fics go so hard. and for what. My god. uim ill it's so good

-sweet by sadbigchungus: its so good. Do u know how fukcing hard it is to get krakoa cherik content. hard. but this hits all the sweet spots i love it so much it's so good

-a good night's sleep by insertsthmeaningful: Can i just say this author writes so much good fic and i am absolutely obsessed. as well as im obsessed w post assassination in xforce cherik like aoghogogjogghOGGH

-the way it travels in and keeps emitting light by populuxe: it's OGHGOGH i love reading this one. it's so hard to find fics that actually talk about disabilities and this one does it SO well and erik is SO perfect in this fic im sick!!

-a nice boy (the family matters edition) by pocky_slash: i don't wanna talk about how hard i cry when i reread this one i might have family issues of sorts.

-a winter's journey by red: i love old cheirk so mcuh it makes me want to eat my ownf oot

-the trouble with trilbies by obstrinatix: I LOVE. OLD MEN. CHERIK

-& other words by questors: this is so good like the worldbuilding genuinely floors and runs me over until im nothing but an useless dough

-necessary downtime by unforgotten: i . old cherik. Ogjjgjkrlgjlslkfd

-bug on a plate by lindstrom: ANOTHER ONE THAT ACTUALLY DESCRIBES DISABILITIES SUPER WELL AND DOESNT SHY AWAY FROM THEM ITS A HITTTT AND MIDDLE AGED CHERIK JUST HTIS DIFF SORRY

-the last love song and testament of charles f xavier by midrashic: u know what i said about liking afic so much u cant actually bring urself to properly word the comment so youre just waiting and waiting to properly say smth. Yea thats me w this fic too. why's it so fucking good. how am i meant to word my emotions. but hey if i got around to commenting on Afterlife i will to this

-one second and a million miles by madneto: nothing has ever put me through such a slowburn like this fic like it was so insane and crazy i felt like god was slapping me. PLUS. IRENE AND RAVEN ARE IN IT......SLAY!

-bloodbound by ikeracity: u know i didnt care about vampire fics until THIS ONE. WHERE I WAS LIKE. OH. OKAY. THEYRE GOOD ACTUALLY I SEE THE LIGHT IT MAKES SENSE NOW.

-the golden mean by somuchmorethanyouknow: IT'S SO GOOD OK. THE WAY I WISH THIS FIC WAS CANON JSUT BC IT WAS SO GOOD. THE GENOSHA BUILDING OF IT ALL. MY GODDDDDD! I LOVED IT. SO PAINFULLY GOOD. THE WRITING OF CHARLES AND EIRK IS SO EXCEPTIONAL BUT SO IS EVERYONE ELSE IN THE FIC TOO. AH

-make me stay by lynds: well. what can i say. who's to say no to a little telepathy play. sorry for liking bottom erik. as if it's my fault

-before you attempt me (fair warning) by kianspo: i read this one time i was really sad and i shouldnt have because i started crying about never being able to find a love like the one in this fic. anyway it's super good

-everything about it is a love song by pocky_slash: its bad for me. old cherik makes me go through itnso much. i cant believe ill never find love like this

-feels like you're mine by annejumps: Sorry for bottom erik enthusiast. AS IF ITS MY FAULTNTO HAVE SUCH GOOD TASTE

-because it's you that sets the test by equestrianstatue: [DERANGED NOISES] IM LIKEBSO CASUAL ABOUT THIS FIC IM NOT EVEN MENTALLH ILL.

-special studies in mutant topics by populuxe: my ao3 bookmark says "filed under fics i read while having a mental breakdown and saved my mental health" you can bet its so good and sexy and Oghgogngntnntnngng i will have to marry this authors writing style. SUBBING TO THIS AUTHOR ISNT ENOUGH I HAVE TO BUY THEM DINNER IDK

but also the sex thing: this fic ruined my ability to watch dofp. no matter how many times i watch it ill be quoting this fic along to it

thats it. for Now. i actually have more but some of them are just the real popular ones so im like. Yeah youve read it. BUT THE REST MIGHT BE FOR NEXT TIME. I GUESS. SORRY. THIS GOT OUT OF HAND