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searidings · 3 years

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this is what happens when @ekingston and i get our hands on the prompt “that's my wife!” and agree that she'll draw my idea for it and i'll write hers (aka hearing kara call it out as she watches lena being wheeled down a hospital corridor)

“Excuse me, you can't go through there!”

Kara growls. The woman blocking her path is short and gently rounded, the kind lines of her face drooping in disapproval above her nurse's scrubs. “No visitor access beyond this point, dear. Immediate family only.”

“Immediate— you're joking, right?” Kara cranes her head, peering through the closing doors to catch a last glimpse of Lena's gurney as it rounds the corner at the end of the hall. “That's my wife!”

The nurse gapes at her. “Your—?”

Kara growls again, louder. It's a good thing she'd blown out her powers twenty minutes ago, or she would not be held responsible for the Kryptonian-shaped hole in NC Memorial Hospital's expensive surgery doors. “Yes, my wi—”

Her snarl is cut off by a hand clamping down firmly over her mouth from behind. Kara's first instinct is to bite it. She resists, narrowly, as the familiar scent of shea butter moisturiser registers in her adrenaline-fogged brain.

“You sure about that?” Alex squeaks around a nervous laugh, voice pitched a half-octave too high. She removes her hand from Kara's mouth, wiping her damp palm on her pants with a wrinkled nose. “Get hit on the head during that fight, did you?”

Kara whirls on her sister, eyes blazing. “Am I sure?” she parrots incredulously. Alex cowers a little beneath the force of her stare. “Unless you're trying to tell me I hallucinated my entire wedding—”

“Supergirl isn't married,” Alex stage-whispers loud enough to be heard in Florida, glancing pointedly down at Kara's ash-caked body and oh yeah, she's still wearing her supersuit.

Right, right.

The nurse – Rosemary, her badge reads – finally picks her jaw up off the floor long enough to speak. Her eyes are wide, sparkling with sudden glee. “So Lena Luthor and Su—”

Kara's hackles rise at the suggestion in her tone. “Lena Luthor and Kara Danvers are happily married,” she interrupts sternly. “You might have seen the wedding photos in last month's Vogue.”

The nurse smirks. At her elbow, Alex drops her head into her hands.

“Kara Danvers, hm? Amazing what a pair of glasses do for you, dear.” Rosemary's brow quirks with impish satisfaction and, oh. Whoops. It would appear that in her haste to quash any potential rumours of Lena's infidelity behind the back of her very recent, very publicly human wife, she'd forgotten about the other delicate matter at hand.

Alex sighs so long and so heavy Kara legitimately marvels that she doesn't pass out from the strain. “I knew keeping a spare NDA in my back pocket would pay off,” her sister groans, thrusting an official-looking, if crumpled, contract beneath the nurse's nose.

“Sorry,” Kara murmurs sheepishly as Rosemary signs away page after page of her right to ever disclose Supergirl's identity in any capacity. “I wasn't thinking, I can't— Alex, it's Lena.”

“I know, I know,” her sister soothes, frustration dissipating as she reaches out to pull Kara into her side, ignoring the soot and grit that smear across her jacket at the contact. “She's gonna be okay.”

“But what if she's not?” Kara asks and the sobs arrive then, the last remnants of the fight or flight response that had propelled her this far dissipating beneath the weight of her terror. “She stepped right in front of that bullet, Alex! Of all the stupid, reckless—”

“If I recall, she was pushing you back after you shoved her out of the way in the first place,” Alex hums thoughtfully. Kara's tear-filled eyes snap to her face, incredulous, and her sister grimaces. “Right, right. Not the time.”

“She has to be okay,” she gasps, clutching hard at her sister's jacket as her knees threaten to give out beneath her. “She has to, I can't— I feel like I can't breathe. Like my heart's been ripped out.”

Alex clicks her tongue in sympathy, wrapping a firm arm round Kara's waist and guiding her to a nearby row of chairs. Rosemary deposits the signed NDA wordlessly on the hard plastic beside them, reaching into her scrubs to produce a pack of tissues.

Alex accepts, extracting one to dab at Kara's snotty, tear-stained face with her free hand. “Welcome to married life, kid,” she chuckles, pressing a kiss to Kara's matted hair. “It can be a real bitch.”

It's a long night.

It's a long night, a night of anxious waiting and barely-restrained nausea and vending machine coffee so bad even Nia won't drink it. Her family, their family, crowd the waiting room, dozing across the rows of seats as the hours drag on and on.

Alex tries her best, at varying intervals, to force her back to the Tower for a stint under the sun lamps. Every time without fail, Kara sets her jaw, then sets her feet in the middle of the surgical wing waiting room and refuses to budge.

This leads to several arguments, and a lot of impassioned shoving.

“What if she needs me?” Kara laments tearily, pout activated and puppy dog eyes firmly in place. Alex, mid-football tackle with her arms and right shoulder braced against Kara's torso as she attempts to use her entire bodyweight to force her sister toward the exit, only grunts with exertion. Behind them, J’onn dozes in the corner. Brainy and Kelly and Nia continue their conversation without batting an eyelid.

“No, scratch that, she does need me,” Kara corrects, unaffected by her sister's NFL-worthy body slam. “She's been shot. I'm not going anywhere.”

Alex, perhaps finally sensing defeat after her fourth unsuccessful attempt, gives one final shove with all her strength. Kara doesn't so much as wobble, and her sister releases her with a huff. “Fine. But for the love of God, change your clothes before you start shouting about your wife again,” she pants, red-faced and sweating as she collapses into a nearby chair. “That was my last NDA.”

That's a compromise she can make. Kara accepts the bundle of clothes Nia presents her with, stripping out of her dirt-caked suit and re-donning her glasses. Thankfully, the only person around to witness Kara entering the bathroom as a superhero and re-emerging as a Catco reporter is Rosemary.

The updates on Lena's condition are sporadic at best. By the time the first surgeon emerges to say the bullet has been removed from Lena's chest cavity Kara's accidentally cracked three plastic chairs, advanced all the way to Lollipop Land on Alex's Candy Crush, and worn a groove into the waiting room linoleum with her nervous pacing.

When another doctor emerges three hours later to tell them Lena had developed a tension pneumothorax and needs additional treatment, Kara's made it to Rainbow Reef and chewed her bottom lip bloody.

When, at five in the morning, yet another doctor appears to inform them that Lena is being placed on anti-radiation medication to counter the Kryptonite that had coated the bullet, Kara's finished all nine thousand nine hundred and thirty-five levels of the damn game. The doctor leaves, promising to be back with more news soon, and Kara squeezes her sister's hand so hard poor Nurse Rosemary has to be called to administer an ice pack for the bruising, solar flare be damned.

Dawn breaks to find Kara scratchy-eyed and grumpy, worn ragged with worry. The waiting room begins to fill up around them, new patients and their relatives coming and going, and still there's nothing new on Lena. Every time another scrub-clad surgeon pushes through the doors Kara's heart skips a beat, all of them sitting up straighter in their seats, but every time the doctor passes them by.

Kara's just wolfed down six cold breakfast sandwiches procured by Brainy on his sojourn to the hospital cafeteria and is debating the relative merits of starting Candy Crush over from scratch when another young doctor appears. Her scrub cap has avocados on it. Kara likes her already.

“Family of Ms Luthor?” she calls, looking around, and Kara pushes up hard from her chair to the resounding snap of cracking plastic. Whoops.

“It's Luthor-Danvers,” she gabbles as she bounds over to the surgeon, palms sweating. No matter how many times she hears it, it never loses its thrill. “I'm, I'm her wife.”

The young doctor's features soften. “Of course. I've come to let you know that it looks like Ms Luthor-Danvers is out of the woods. She's sedated and still on an anti-radiation drip, but she's through the worst of it.” She appraises Kara, gaze lingering on her chewed-raw lips and clenching fingers, then leans closer conspiratorially. “It's not general visiting hours yet, but you can see her, if you'd like.”

“Yes!” Kara's shouting almost before the surgeon has finished speaking. “Yes, please, yes.”

She hugs them all, Alex and Brainy and Nia and Kelly and J’onn, and leaves them in the waiting room as she follows the doctor's sunshine-yellow crocs down the hall.

They round corner after corner, an interminable maze. Powerless as she is, she can't hear Lena’s heartbeat, and the absence of the steady beat that has become the soundtrack to her existence sets her even more on edge.

But at last they turn a corner, and there she is. She's pale and bandaged and her eyes are closed, creamy skin streaked with dirt and bruises, but she's there, she's alive, she's Lena.

The surgeon holds the door open for her with a smile and Kara's across the room in a heartbeat, smoothing a hand over Lena's warm cheek and pressing kiss after kiss to her forehead and hair.

“I love you, I love you,” she whisper-cries against Lena's temple, tucking her matted curls behind her ears. The smell of blood and dirt and antiseptic is almost overwhelming, but beneath the dust and debris caught up in her hair Lena's scalp smells the same as always. Kara presses her face to the crown of her head and inhales deeply, soaking it in.

“Why'd you have to be so damn brave?” she whispers, nuzzling her cheek against silky softness. “I love you so much. Please don't step in front of any more bullets. Please learn to be a coward, occasionally.”

The singular relief of having Lena living and breathing and in her arms again is so complete, so compounded by the fear and the adrenaline and the sleepless night and the solar flare, that she feels suddenly that she may crumple to the ground from the force of it all.

Unwilling to relinquish her hold for even a second she appraises the bandages covering Lena's right side, then crawls onto the hospital bed on her left, careful to avoid her many wires and monitors. She tucks herself in beside her on the wide mattress, chin hooked over Lena's shoulder and face pressed to the side of her neck, and lets the tears that haven't really stopped falling since that bullet had left its chamber fall for just a little longer.

Nothing matters outside of the two of them, outside of the warmth of Lena's body and the softness of her skin beneath Kara's lips and the steady thud of her heart beneath Kara's palm. Nothing else in the world exists, so when an unfamiliar male voice sounds from the doorway it takes her a moment to register the intrusion.

“Excuse me, ma’am, you really can't be on the bed with her,” the strange, disembodied voice calls from behind her and Kara frowns tiredly, unable and unwilling to acknowledge anything outside of the woman in her arms.

But before she's even managed to raise her head another voice sounds, the soft tones of a young surgeon in an avocado scrub cap.

“Oh, honestly, Peter,” the kindly doctor says with gentle reproach, a quiet calm washing over the room as the door is pulled closed and she and Lena are left alone. “Leave them be. That's her wife.”

#check out easter's incredible art! as usual she absolutely nailed it #in my humble opinion you can simply never have too many 'that's my wife!' concepts in the world #it just never gets old #ridings writes #supercorp #supercorp fanfic #kara danvers #lena luthor #supergirl

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sunsents · 3 years

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Empty - F.W (1/2)

Gah daym this was a JOURNEY to write. I swore to myself to never write angst because, well I suck at it. But here we are, I swear this has a good ending because my heart can't bear that. I could've written this much better, so I promise to bring my A GAME for chapter 2. Enjoy, also Lee in this is a hate crime. This is very story telling-esk so I hope it flows well.

I wouldn't have written this chapter without the help of my good friend @mochiixjimin she helped me edit and spice up this whole thing so thank you so much to her! She's an amazing writer, go check out her work and show her some big love right now or else!! her wattpad

Chapter 1 out of 2 (Backstory)

Summary —> Life has always been a cruel joke to you, yet you simply play along. Overshadowed by Eva Burke your whole life, watching from the sidelines while everyone flooded each other with love, it would always feel like a joke.

Pairing: fredweasley x fem!reader

Word count: 6.1k

Warnings: ANGST ANGST ANGST (with a fluffy ending in the second part) / One mature scene (18+) and then it's angst again <3 / Some slander / Offensive language

Rating: 18+

DON’T REPOST MY WORK

You were a bright child.

Beaming bright enough to keep a tight lipped smile during flu-shots, and enough to put on a happy façade when your dad threw away the drawing you had done of your family dog, rather than hang it up on the fridge.

Children have foolish dreams, and that was yours. Your friends in preschool boasted about their pictures being hung like trophies on fridges, with decorative magnets and even bigger pink bow ties.

The fridge in the Y/L/N manor was empty. Always empty, just how Ms. Y/L/N liked it. Empty marble floors with empty rug designs, and empty rooms with even emptier people living in it. They were both empty people. Hollow and void of any emotion, at least towards you.

You were different though. You were filled to the brim with ambition and hope and so many positive emotions that your parents never seemed to reflect on you. You were like those Disney princesses. The princesses always had hope, and when you have hope good things happen.

Right?

Your dad never meant to give you false hope. He just wished you’d keep your mouth shut as he worked until late hours. Using big words and having big aspirations, you shouldn’t have.

Mr and Mrs Y/L/N weren't bad people per say, just busy. They didn't know how to raise a child, this was obvious, because the purpose of even having a child was to fix their marriage. But a temporary fix wouldn't do it, it never did. There was always that hole on the roof, leaking rain of despair into their falsely built home that no bucket big enough could hold back. Because it always found a way to overflow.

They didn't know how to show their love, so they did it with money, clothes, toys and crayons that you would later use to draw pictures of your family, only to have them end up in the dumpster once again.

They spoiled you rotten, bought you gifts you never even dreamed of asking. You just shut up and enjoyed it, what else could you do? Whine and demand attention? Risk losing their favor? There was no favor to lose.

You got yourself a fat A plus on your third grade math test. Star stickers on your chest, you entered through the glass double doors of your house with a crooked smile - two front teeth missing of course - making your joy all the more endearing. Your backpack strapped tightly over your narrow shoulders, hanging low with all the crammed books you pushed before leaving school because you were just so excited to show your parents.

You received a big sloppy kiss from your Nanny, who practically was like a second mom to you, and dashed right into your fathers office to show him your new accomplishment.

"Good job, I'm proud of you."

You froze. You found a way to actually get their attention. The attention you so craved, the recognition you would die for. This was revolutionary. Basically a new era for you.

Nanny made you a star shaped cake that night, and sat with you while gently stroking your hair and listening to you blabber about how easy the math questions were. It felt warm, motherly love. Even if it was false, it would never compare to the love of your own mother, a love you would never get.

You spent all your night studying, your eyes burning under the harsh light of your lamp in the early mornings and your pencil, ebbing away over sheets and sheets of blank paper. Writing away your little hands off until they ached, just to snatch another A and get a good job.

This was good, it worked out very well. You became that student who looked forward to class, just to get a good grade and have the validation of your parents. The sight of your father’s lips quirk up even in the slightest, and how your mother’s eyes shone briefly in appreciation of your hard work, even if it was for a quick second, it was worth it.

Until the new neighbors moved in.

Mr. Burke was a round, cheerful man with an even rounder belly, and a big fat pipe that always hung on his lips. Mrs Burke looked and acted like those fairy godmothers you adored. You couldn’t believe such people existed. Mr Y/L/N invited them over for dinner, for courtesy. He was not happy about said courtesy.

He ended up liking the couple, they had a little daughter called Eva, who was small and adorable with round red cheeks and big doe eyes. Not only Mr and Mrs Burke, but the Y/L/N’s adored Eva as well. She was happy, always smiling, and her teeth weren't nearly as crooked as yours, not to mention she had pretty long hair like a princess.

You liked her a lot, took her to pick flowers, showed her the drawings you had prepared for the empty fridge; in case Mr Y/L/N ever had a change of heart and hung them up, you had been trying for three years and weren't giving up any sooner.

Eva was nice, kind enough to share her M&M's and very used to compliments unlike you. She seemed to get a lot from her parents and yours. The adults were so kind to her, always smothering her with love and kisses. You were happy for Eva, happy that Eva somehow managed to gain the favor of your parents before you did.

Little girls tended to be jealous, you weren’t. You were just glad to have a friend so cool, she didn't blush and stutter under praise and apparently her drawings were pretty enough to go on a fridge.

It was a Thursday afternoon when your mom smiled at you for the first time since your last exam grade. "Look, Eva drew us a picture, isn't it pretty?"

The crayola stash under your bed was no longer needed, they appeared clumsily dumped in the neighborhood trash the next day, most of them stomped under the pressure of your little sneakers. And the bundle of drawings you hid under your pillow, wishing on fairy godmother that one day they would be hung up too, were ripped; clearly a struggle given. You had paper cuts on your hands, and your Nanny thankfully applied ointment before Ms and Mr Y/L/N noticed, or rather, stopped to care.

Though you knew that even if you paraded herself with bloody fingers dripping to your elbows, they wouldn't care.

Nanny did, she was there. There when you were haunted with nightmares when the moon was particularly dark, cooing at you and letting you sleep next to her in that small bed of hers. There when you tripped and fell, small scratch resulting in a screaming tantrum. She was gentle, sweet, paid well.

You decided to go and pick flowers with Eva, and make a pretty flower crown for yourself, months after your drawing incident. Of course, you didn't have such silly dreams anymore. You didn’t wish to have your pictures hung, to have your mother wear the flower crowns you made and frankly you didn’t care for the sight of the sparkle in your parents eyes. Nanny’s was enough.

Eva agreed, dressed in a pink tutu Mrs Y/L/N gifted. You didn't comment, though deep down you gazed at the skirt in sparkling envy. Your mother never bothered to get you such pretty things. The two of you gathered saturated petals and nice ribbons while giggling amongst yourselves. Until, you accidentally caused Eva’s flowers to levitate.

Eva ran home, crying and calling you a witch. Mr and Mrs Y/L/N’s dirty looks made her feel shameful, and even dirtier when a letter addressed to her was dropped by a pretty owl you insisted on petting. It was from a school called Hogwarts, in the faraway land of London, and it seemed, not only you but Eva got the same letter the next day.

Though the Y/L/N’s and Burke’s were proud of Eva’s letter. They weren’t with yours.

— — — —

The ride to Hogwarts was interesting to say the least. You had so many questions unanswered, were you a fairy godmother too? Was that your destiny? Was that the reason you never got any attention, because you were destined to give instead of receive?

Eva was cheerful as always, making fast friends in newly bought uniforms and holding a pretty, long and thin wand, with designs flowing across the premise. Your wand was...functional. You were sad you couldn't choose, and that the wand chose the owner. It didn't make sense, what if you didn't want this wand? What if you wanted something charming like Eva’s? It should have been mutual.

It was while trying to find your way to the bathroom that you met the Weasley twins. Quite handsome, a year older and absolute fucktards. A word you learned from the two. Though you always found yourself laughing more at Fred’s jokes, you liked them both equally.

“Hey George! Look.” Fred had exclaimed, clinging onto his brothers shoulder and dragging him across. “Who's that girl?”

You introduced yourself, happy façade on, gentle words slipping out of your mouth like nectar. They had to like you, you told yourself. Just this once, more than Eva.

When sorted into Gryffindor, Eva, you and the twins became inseparable. Your group grew in second year, when Katie, Lee and Alicia Spinnet joined the bunch. You would make fun of the ghastly Potions Professor Snape, and imitate Dumbledore in the hallways to mess with the older students.

You loved your time at Hogwarts, and the adventures that came every year. Especially when Harry Potter joined.

“Hey Fred.”

Fred, who was fiddling with his bracelet you had bought him hummed in response, not bothering to look up.

You sighed, “Do you think the flowers can feel it when we pluck them?”

Fred turned at that, his bracelet was now tightly secure after his struggles. “I hope not.” he smiled, a faraway look on his face whenever he gazed at you. “You know, some people like pain.” he winked.

You merely looked at him confused, clearly way too young for...whatever that is.

He started laughing loudly, slapping his knee and causing you to scoff and slap him on the shoulder.

Third year was when it bloomed. The slight girly attention you gave Fred grew. Fred was...Fred. A handsome ginger, beater for their house's Quidditch team, always charming and charismatic that somehow oozed out of him whenever he did anything really. It was not unusual, every girl in school had a crush on him. That wasn't the case, Fred was one of your best friends, and you refused to entertain the idea of a possible...relationship.

Yet sometimes, you'd find yourself thinking about hugging and kissing Fred like you’d seen couples in your favorite movies did and you’d fall asleep with reddened cheeks and a boy with even redder hair in your mind.

But feelings couldn’t be controlled, nor easily hidden. Eva found out in your fourth year after hearing you mumble his name in your dreams. Fred Weasley was getting more handsome as years passed, and you found it hard to contain your feelings. You were crushing, hard.

Eva was...Eva about it. Happy, but nothing changed. She didn't tease like George did when he found out, nor did she act any differently towards Fred.

“Hey ____!” Fred had sat next to you, shaking the entire couch because he grew that tall during summer. “Got a new girl after me.” he looked at you, almost expectantly, as if you wouldn’t react the way you always reacted.

“That’s great Fred.” you smiled, gulping whatever lump that was forming in your throat and struggling to come out as vulgar words you wished to yell.

“Yeah,” Fred sighed, “It’s...great.”

Fred Weasley was a ladies man, and he wasn't afraid to show it. It was okay, because you were happy enough to be one of his closest, and that was enough. He often boasted about getting girls, and how successful his jokes were, and you always loved snapping back to him cockily, even more cockily than him. Playful banter was easy, comforting between them and when he turned away you would love to shyly entertain the idea of being one of those girl’s Fred talked about.

Fifth year, you had a sudden growth spurt. That was also the year where you discovered Cosmopolitan, Vogue and of course Witch Weekly. Hair no longer in a ponytail, legs shaved and smooth, short skirts with no nylons, you were a new person. After getting your period in third year, your spurt came late, but sudden. Way too sudden in the time of three months. It was hard to handle the changes occurring to your body. It was all too much that you had to become a lady and the fact that you didn’t have your mother to help was a pain you hid deep within.

It was as if whichever god above decided to squeeze your entire life into a summer and call it a day, because it was simply too busy. How ironic. No one saw your growth except old Nanny Gladys. Not Eva, nor her parents considering they went on a getaway and the Burke's, who had gone to Brazil.

But you were over that, you discovered the great telephone, and the great Hermione Granger, package deal with Ginny Weasley. You guys would talk on the phone for hours upon hours, Ginny obscuring your personality and Hermione altering your view on your parents. And Hermione was right, they were assholes. You didn't give a flying fuck about empty praises anymore.

You had become almost too tall for your older clothes, and your breasts were way too big to fit in the training bra you bought not even a month ago. Your hips, now wide and swaying as you walk became graceful, were decorated with long gem bracelets.

You cursed like a sailor that summer, ran around fields with family - your family being your dog, Jambo - bare feet. You stomped on flowers you used to pick as a little girl, stomping on those silly fairytale dreams you used to nurse, and never felt freer. For the first time ever you felt that maybe being empty could be more freeing than having false hope weighing you down.

Returning to Hogwarts was a big deal to students. Who changed, who glowed up after what happened last year - nothing, it was all childish drama.

Before your parents could even see your new self, your escapade to the Granger household was successful. The Y/L/N's didn't care, nor did they write. You knew it should’ve hurt, but frankly, you didn’t think having the pain in your chest was worth it. Hermione was awestruck, of course, after laying her sights on you for the first time since May and insisted on walking into the Entrance Hall, arm in arm with her and Ginny to show you off like some sort of revelation.

It was a revelation all right, at least to the boys, and some girls. It seemed no one saw you as a girl before. George oogled, and Lee was so shocked to find out that you were actually a girl with a pretty figure and an even prettier smile that he stopped clapping you on the back like he always did. Not a girl, you have become a woman. It was far too sudden, new uniforms and a whole new wardrobe had to be bought.

"____? You were a girl?" Fred joked, ruffling your hair like nothing changed between you. And that's when you realized, no slutty skirt, how much pushup your bra, or no matter how pretty your hair looked, Fred would always see you as ____, the girl with crooked front teeth and who once ate a worm in second year. Your teeth weren't crooked at all anymore - thanks to a few years of braces - and finally clear of uncomfortable metals but you felt as if Fred would always see the ghost of them on your pearly whites when you smiled.

He had this view of you that blinded him, caused him to treat you as he treated Ginny while he flirted and played footsie with other girls, including Eva.

That did not stop Eva from giving you false hope, and you took the bait, naive like always. Hope, that's what ruined it all. "You're beautiful now, of course you have a chance!" she said, rubbing your shoulder reassuringly, as if she had warmth to begin with.

It was all false, yet you still believed. You always had. Like a fool.

Ginny didn't like Eva, and maybe that's why you gravitated towards her. She was the first person who had ever met Eva that wasn't charmed by her kind smile and attractive words. Eva was...displeased. She grew up having the attention of everyone around, so when Ginny Weasley told her straight to her face that she wasn't shit, Eva seethed. The attention of Ginny changed nothing though, because Eva was the main character. Everyone - except Ginny, and secretly Hermione (though she would never say it) - loved her, they followed her around like puppies and praised her on her wonky wand work.

The upcoming Yule Ball brought great upswing to Hogwarts.

You were far too busy with her classes to take interest in the tournament - even though the dragon race was the gnarliest sight you had ever seen. Your goal was set, become a badass Auror and move out as soon as possible, so you didn't have to face your parents (except Holidays, yuck.)

But the Yule Ball was your chance. A chance with Fred Weasley.

You could ask to go as friends and maybe, just maybe a little hope and the night would end much more romantic than you had anticipated.

Plucking up courage was the hardest part, you practiced with your bathroom mirror so long that Ginny had to blast through the door and drag you out of her dormitory.

Fred Weasley agreed, why wouldn't he? You, his closest friend, asking to go as a group and drink all night while gossiping? It was a win win. At least that's what you told herself.

That was a lie, it wasn't a win win.

You gave it your all getting ready, dress silk, makeup and expensive shoes. You took a long shower, scrubbing and shaving yourself to a smooth gliding porcelain, only for it all to be washed down with reddened eyes and a boy with even redder hair.

Fred greeted you the same, danced the same, and you chatted the same; you were reminded again, for the second time, that you stood no chance.

Fred told you that he was going to get drinks, a quick trip to the booth and mumbled I'll be back in a second. He was not back in a second. Several minutes passed, and your worries caused your feet to follow after Fred's footsteps.

You ran, trying to find him in the empty corridors of Hogwarts, tears welling in your eyes because he wouldn't. He wasn't that cruel, life wasn't that cruel.

But it was, and in a distant empty classroom you saw Fred Weasley, on his knees and between Eva's legs, groaning and praising her like a starved man. Worshipping her like everyone else had, burying himself in her and completely forgetting the drink he’d bring back in just a second. He’d left you thirsty and alone in the Great Hall and left you to drink from a cup he hadn’t known to be forbidden. Yet Eva did.

Eva's perfect dainty hands tangled in his ginger hair, thighs clamping shut while her high pitched moans flooded your mind and echoed around your head. They were so loud that she couldn’t even hear the loud echoes of your footsteps and the woeful cries that left your lips as you ran. It wouldn’t be the first time she had ignored your pain for her own selfish reasons.

Your heart shattered, and suddenly you were six again, watching your parents praise Eva, hang her drawing on the fridge. A soft breeze tickling your bare toes, dangling from the small cushioned seat you sat on while you watched Eva braid Mrs Y/L/N’s hair. Emotionless, silent, not asking for anything, knowing that you won't receive in return. Eva's small hands carefully placed the flower crown on Mrs Y/L/N’s pool of hair, and she smiled, heart warming and hopeful. Suddenly you remembered the feel of your own hands tangling in between your locks as you stood on your tiptoes, trying to imitate your mothers braid on yourself in the mirror you couldn't reach. You pretended, only for a moment before it twisted into knots.

What a cruel joke, you thought as you watched Eva receive the world from Fred, from your parents, from your friends and from every damn person you had met.

You cried on a big set of stairs that night, your wails echoing as you asked whoever, whatever what you had done. What you had done to deserve such treatment from the people around you. It was rather cliche - and maybe a bit too dramatic. It was an uncomfortable seat of course, and your body, as well as your heart, ached. Pain, misery, false hope and enough hair spray to melt the ozone.

The princesses always cried on big sets of stairs, uncomfortable stone floors causing them to shiver while they hid away their beautifully animated faces in their perfect hands. This was different, there was no fairy godmother to fix your makeup and clone a gentlemanly Fred Weasley, a perfect prince. You knew, because you cried, and prayed and cried and prayed until your throat was sore. There was no fairy godmother, it was all a lie. There was no happy ending. There would be none.

No one came to find you that night either, and you had to drag yourself back to the Gryffindor common room, feet bare, mascara, blush - anything else you put on in hopes of being able to become like Eva even only for one night - practically nonexistent from the way your tears washed them away.

You didn't sleep that night, and your head was unusually clear, pounding, but clear. You laid awake, eyes blood-shot and stinging while your dress shuffled uncomfortably between your sheets. You were too tired to change, and your dress was far too pretty to be worn so short.

Ginny's words replayed over and over again. "They're not worth it." her voice was so clear, and true. Mr and Mrs Burke weren't worth it. Your parents weren't worth it. Fred Weasley wasn't worth it. Eva wasn't worth it. The midnight chirping of bugs invited themselves in from your open window, and blue moonlight streaks beaming down in lines from the tulle curtain flowed with breeze, it was calming.

You felt calm, for the first time in sixteen years. You felt calm.

Fred and Eva started dating that week. Everyone acted like they expected it, and you realized just how blind you had been. Eva Burke and Fred Weasley, golden couple of Hogwarts.

You watched them, emotionless, as they embraced with love and so much passion that you felt embarrassed. Embarrassed at how you’d blushed and squeal over Fred in front of Eva and George and anyone who had found out because now you knew. Now you knew that their amused smiles were probably pitying grimaces because they knew that you two were never meant to be. It was always Fred and Eva.

Fred was an amazing boyfriend, making sure Eva was taken care of, lovingly staring at her whenever and wherever, arm looped around her waist at all times; you realized they were truly not worth it.

"You disgust me."

You didn't mean the words to escape so carelessly, but when you said them, you realized you didn't want to take them back. The growing pit in your stomach felt weightless. "Excuse me?" said Fred, stopping his nibbling on Eva's neck, who was just as shocked. You scoffed, Eva already had enough purple bruises to parade around so why did Fred have the need to add more?

"You heard me right," George, Lee, Ron, Harry, Katie and whoever sitting in their circle stared at you, wide-eyed, Ginny and Hermione, however, were grinning devilishly. Kind ____, wouldn't hurt a fly, quiet at times and didn't know how to stand up for herself. It was shocking, but you were done pretending. You didn't want to be like that anymore, you wanted to say whatever came to mind and not worry about the consequences. "You guys disgust me, I know I should be supportive but you don't match, at all."

You turned to George. "And you, no you can't talk about Katie like that." George went pink. "You're disgusting for sleeping around carelessly and telling girls you'd write, stop giving people false hope. Grow up. You’re nearly an adult and you can’t even treat a girl right."

"And you Lee," Lee went quiet. "What gives you the right to make fun of me like that. I'll wear whatever the fuck I want, just because you don't have the courage to wear a headband. If you can talk about my breasts, I'll talk about your shrimp."

"Ron, you take advantage of Hermione then lead her on. Open your eyes, asshole."

"Harry, you're not the main character. You're not always going to be the center of attention, nor do you have the right to yell at your friends."

"Alicia, god you're so stupid. I'm sorry, you're great but such an airhead. No, you can't ride a Thestral if you can't see them, and stop eating quill ink they're bad for you."

You stood up, grinning proudly, heart loud in your chest you feared someone might hear. "Frankly, I don't wanna be friends anymore. I'm done with this façade, except you two, 'Gin, Hermione. The rest of you are just so fake." she gestured to them. "Boys," she nodded again. "Don't talk to me anymore, and Lee, give me back the money, think it's about time don't you think? I've been paying for you since third year."

And with that, you left. You left Three Broomsticks, grin wide and chest heaving. Hermione and Ginny ran behind, whooping and cheering you on as they laughed.

The news of your outburst spread fast like wildfire caught in wind. That week was bliss, you no longer had to watch Fred and Eva, nor did you have to act sweet to anyone. You didn't have to laugh along Lee's sexist jokes and look away to wince, it was pure bliss. You realized that the feeling of being free didn’t have to be momentary.

Pansy Parkinson was surprisingly a good friend, she didn't have the same fakeness to her, the one Eva had where her smile was too kind. She spoke her mind, though every Slytherin did, and you liked that. Ginny wasn't happy with your new found friends, but she couldn't separate you. You made your own decisions from now on. It was refreshing.

You told your new friends everything, eager to get it off your chest and breathe, and they listened. For the first time, someone listened. You didn't have to get good grades, nor did you have to act like a sweet angel.

You teared up the first time Pansy said; "It's not your fault,". You knew it wasn't your fault, but hearing someone else say it with such genuine eyes made you believe. Actually believe.

It started off with you watching from the sidelines as Draco and Blaise pranked, insulted and shamed whatever your old friend group did. It wasn't unusual for Draco to act this way, but he got especially irritated after hearing what you told them. Blaise, someone usually quiet, had stepped up and decided to somehow release the pent up anger he had for the Gryffindor students.

The year ended, and you had started to sneak in an insult or two towards Fred and Eva. It felt nice, like finally, step by step you were clearing your years of hidden jealousy. But, there was no one to tell you that this simply wasn't the right way.

That summer, you stayed at the Burrow. Ginny had invited you and you were quick to say yes; obviously a fact forgotten. Fred, George and whoever you had insulted last year stayed in the same house. You simply didn't want to go home, and if this meant seeing Fred Weasley then you had to endure it.

Molly Weasley was the sweetest person you could ever meet, and it was genuine. It felt genuine, you feared your teeth might rot if the woman got another word in. Molly greeted you as if you were her own daughter she hadn't seen in years. You felt valued, seen.

Until Eva was there, Fred invited her. You had to watch the only person you were able to love, introduce the only person he was able to love to his mother. It wasn't you. It would never be you.

And you realized, even after everything, Eva had once again found a way to be more loved than you.

The grin Molly broke out was nothing short of beautiful, and you couldn't help but smile as well. The smile wasn't directed towards you of course, and you sat on that small kitchen chair, celebrating a relationship that caused your ruin.

Eva didn't care that your friendship was over, nothing budged in her life. She still got the same attention, still received the same love from Fred. The same affection, the same attention and the same everything. Or so it seemed.

Though unlike Eva, Fred merely watched you with sad eyes.

You stayed clear of the couple and the rest. You hung out with Ginny and Hermione only, ignoring the dirty looks Ron and Harry gave you. The secret, whispered insults Eva threw your way. George didn't say anything, but he didn't object either. This was enough to show how he felt. At this point you really didn't care. Why would you, when they didn’t either?

You held your head high just like Ginny and Hermione told you to, and you spoke in a loud and clear tone whenever asked something. Eva didn't, she stuttered when you spoke to her directly. Her words scrambled against each other when she tried to voice her insults in louder statements than a whisper. For the first time, you felt relief. You felt intimidating, protected by the barriers you had built around yourself.

Longest day of summer hit, and it boiled. Tanning became a distant dream, you would bake in this weather, and you were thankful to the big AC box you had brought from home. You couldn't sleep that night, sweat beads falling down your forehead that was already covered in a thin sheen. You had decided to get a cold glass of water, not sure how you ended up face to face with Fred Weasley. His wand tip shone with blue light, and his freckles were much darker because of the sun. It seemed the sun decided to be cruel to Fred Weasley back and wash Fred over with it's deathly heat. He was sunburnt, this was an understatement. He was burnt.

You couldn't help but start laughing when you met, ignoring the proximity, ignoring the sleeping house, dead silent and a big leap from the lively Burrow, ignoring Fred's soft breaths he let out every other second. You couldn't live off on false hope anymore.

Suddenly it wasn't so funny anymore, and your face quickly fell. You took a big step back and inhaled, ready to ignore him like you had been doing for the past year. But Fred Weasley was a persistent man, and he gripped your arm and looked at you with determined, doe-like eyes. "Tell me what I did wrong." he said, adamant on fixing this, whatever this was. You both didn't know.

You stood silent.

"Please flower,"

"Don't call me that." you said, stern and gaze sharp. Fred didn't react, he kept on insisting.

"Please, tell me how to fix this. I can fix it," he pleaded, a plethora of empty promises fell out of his lips like nothing. He lied like it was nothing, he was oblivious to everything he and everyone around them had put you through. It was infuriating.

You didn't say anything. You knew he would not fix anything but maybe staying silent would give him the false hope that spinned mockingly in your head for the past eighteen years.

"I'm sorry, just please. I can fix this, I promise, don't be like that." empty tears fell down from his eyes. He looked empty, tired. They lacked the charm they usually shined with and you wondered if it was only you that caused such dullness. Eye bags prominent that you never noticed before. It all felt like a lie, a cruel joke.

Fred Weasley was simply a cruel joke. His presence could only be compared to a shot of whiskey, especially when you down it like how Hagrid nurses a Firewhiskey filled pint glass. You never know how it will hit you. But in the end, you'd always find yourself curled next to the toilet, crying your eyes out because your headache was simply too much.

He was sobbing now, hanging onto your waist like you would simply vanish and you let him. The grip he had on was like steel vice - almost concerning - but you didn't touch him, didn't say anything. You just let him be, like he did to you. Allowed him to hopelessly hang off you before you would eventually leave him alone, like he did to you. "Where did I go wrong? How could we end up like this? What went wrong?"

‘You’, but your voice couldn’t be found.

Questions were useless when the answer was already right in front of his eyes. You didn’t let a single tear fall, you wouldn't forgive yourself if you cried in front of him.

You blinked, and that night was over. Summer continued on like nothing happened, like it didn't leave you heart broken and in such shame yet again. You continued on ignoring Fred as he looked at you with sorrowful eyes. Looked at you more, with more than he did his own girlfriend.

You blinked and the school year started again with another terror looming around the corner. There was simply no need to keep up anymore, because school was easy. You attended classes, got good grades, a few scar here and there from Umbridge's torture chamber, a woman who stood at a whopping five foot three yet still teriffied an entire school.

You blinked and you had already become a proud member of Draco's insult the Gryffindor's club. You didn't even feel bad, being horrible to the people you hated for years felt like a breath of fresh air. You didn't go as far as physically hurting any of your old friends, but coming up with damaging insults was such fun. A lot more fun than sitting around with a fake smile.

You blinked, and you were already moving out from your childhood house. Mr and Mrs Y/L/N were unusually happy, this was a given. They would have a new empty room and make another office, like they didn't have enough already. You feared they would start getting rid of bathrooms once too into their work, and they would have to do their business in bushes or buckets. Scratch that, you didn't fear that, it would be fucking hilarious.

You blinked, and when had time passed too quickly? Where did all those empty childhood years had gone? You were already graduating, on your way to become an Auror. You had lost contact with all your old friends now, regretfully Ginny and Hermione too.

The war had hit too quickly, luckily you survived, so did your friends. Unluckily, it left you with a nasty scar right across your left brow. It looked sick, but the hit wasn't worth it. It hurt like a bitch. You could see, it was a close call but vision wasn't an issue. The trauma though, god did Bellatrix's breath smell bad.

When it was all over, you had seen Fred hugging his family tightly. It seemed the Weasley's all survived, and you gave them each tight lipped smiles while holding a bunched up rag to your head to stop the blood gushing out. This wasn't the reunion you wanted to have with Ginny, but hey, you take what you can get after a revolutionary Wizarding war you barely made out alive.

Before a franticly running Fred could reach you though, you apparated to your flat in Diagon Alley, ignoring the thrumming of your heart, and how you practiced in front of a mirror to congratulate their successful joke shop that morning.

#angst #hp angst #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley #fred weasley x y/n #weasley twins #fred weasley angst #fred weasley smut #fred weasley series #reader insert #harry potter fluff #harry potter fic #fred weasley imagine

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cheekygreenty · 3 years

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His Queen - The Darkling x Reader

bitch, I think I outdid myself on this one. I'm shocked I wrote this

He hated the Tsar. He hated himself, but he didn't hate you. How could he of let this happen, he's never been a slave to his emotions. You were married, no, scratch that, you were the Queen for Saint's Sake. The Tsar had made it common knowledge that you didn't belong anywhere but the Grand Palace, in a glittering gown and a jeweled crown upon your always perfect hair sitting in front of a fire sipping on your tea. He wanted you nowhere near the action or actual Palace life. You were merely an accessory to him.

The young and innocent girl raised in nobility, who caught the old bastard's eye by fluttering your eyelashes at him, longing for his person.

Bullshit.

Aleksander could see your repulsion whenever you were in your husband's presence. The longing eyes as you looked at the doors, the shiver that rattled your spine as his sweaty hand gripped yours, or the increasing sadness in your eyes as the months went on. The jewels around your neck glistened, but your eyes didn't. Not anymore.

He had done some digging in the months following the wedding, and rest assured you didn't belong anywhere near the palace. You were scrappy, ready for a fight at all times. There were numerous accounts of you running around villages, fighting your way through pubs and inns. Your parents, the Duke and Duchess, were downright ashamed of you before your big day. You were itching to drop everything and join the First Army the second you had the chance. You were skilled in ways no noble was; you had street smarts.

Then the late Queen died and you were presented on a silver platter to the King, donning all the family jewels that never sit quite right. The King couldn't help himself, the public blamed the grief for his hasty marriage, 'he needed a companion.' But in reality, he saw what he could have and grasped you up the second he had the chance. And now you were stuck here, in a cage with no way out.

Aleksander didn't take a liking to you at the start. All he saw was what the King wanted him to see and for that, he feels tremendous guilt. He thought you to be proper and uptight and spoiled, so when you approached him the first time, franticly asking for advice about a simple state matter that was dropped into your lap by the General himself, he couldn't help but snigger at you and convey news of the stupid Queen to his fellow Grisha.

He didn't know the King treated you like a child or that all of this was new to you. I should've seen it he cursed himself, for the weeks to follow you were the talk of both the Palaces and news spread to camps on the front.

The stupid, young, ditsy girl who couldn't put together a luncheon for Ravka's war heroes was the Queen. Ridiculous.

He believed it too until he had seen you out one night when he couldn't sleep. You were deep in the forest, tending to your black stallion and in what looked like peasant clothing. You had mud on your boots and your hair was messily braided. There was a tatted punching bad tied up on a tree and another person sitting against a log, breathing heavily and clutching his side. Aleksander never made himself known, just blended into the darkness as he did best but continued to watch you eagerly. Only then did he faintly make out your bruised knuckles and the tears in your breeches.

'Again?'

'Saints Y/N no, I've got a way to go and the way you just bruised my ribs, I've a painful journey ahead of me' mused the sitting man.

That night, Aleksander sent out his best Grisha to collect information and asked Genya to tend to you, but you denied yet again (only after asking her to fix up your hands).

Ever since then, Aleksander has been observing you and getting to know you when he could, telling his Grisha it was to gather information since Genya was no longer garnering the Queen's secrets, but he felt drawn to you for whatever reason. You were the best part of his day; whether it was a simple smile sent his way or you rambling about the ways you avoid being followed around the palace, he listened intently and set the shared memories into his brain.

The General was a mystery to you. With his extremely handsome face and confident stances, he mesmerized you to the point of a blank mind. Whenever your eyes met his, it could be in a room of 60 people, rest assured you were right by his side in an instant. You had sought out his presence wherever you went and clung to it while you could.

But the King had made his opinion of the Darkling obvious, and his hatred ran deep. 'He likes to think he rides a horse above everyone else.' 'He's most unnatural.' You didn't care though. As long as he kept himself away from you and just used his words and not actions, you were fine.

You had gathered a particular kindness for late evening walks before bed, silently slipping onto the grounds of his palace, awaiting his companionship. It might have only been 40 minutes out of your day, but it was always better than not seeing him.

Ivan had pointed out that you had an air of hostility around you every time you were in a room with your husband and your heart tended to beat dangerously fast as if you were panicking. So Aleksander attempted to pull you away from him and distract you from the horrid man, and it seemed to work. He grew to like you and would miss your witty humor when he went back to the Little Palace.

Months had passed and he never grew sick of your presence, ironically he craved more of it. He tried to tell himself that you were just a part of his plan, nothing more, but things got even more complicated. He had accidentally mentioned seeing you that night in the forest, and instead of being hostile about it, you told him you enjoyed a fight or two and invited him to join you. That night, after multiple rounds of sparring and hard hits, he kissed you fervently. And again and again, until you both got past the point of going back.

You acknowledged the risk only after it happened and started to panic. You had an affair with the General of the Second Army. He seemed to be in the same state as you. But before you went your separate ways, he held you in his arms and promised it would all be ok. You believed him.

He got back to his chambers that night and his demeanor changed behind the closed doors. He was so mad. He always swore to take what the King loved most and destroy it before his very eyes, but this was a sick joke the Saints played on him. He needed to protect you, get you out of the Tsar's grip, and hide you away from any harm. There was nothing he wouldn't do to keep you out of danger's way and he knew it. Why did he let this happen? He knew that whatever your ending may be, you would get hurt, maybe not physically, but definitely emotionally.

You had told him of all the things the King did to you, how he treated you and paraded you around. You begged Aleksander to do something about it, to help you get out of that life and back to your old one, but there was nothing he could do and it broke his heart.

'I wish I could do something Y/N, I truly do, but I am not as powerful as you may think I am. The King is still the King' he had told you, guilt building in him.

He was sitting at his desk in his chambers now, looking out the window feeling fidgety. You were late for your evening walk, like really late. Sure it happened before, but Aleksander had a weird gut feeling that something happened. Maybe the King found out? or maybe you finally realized the magnitude of the situation and came to your senses?

He knew if the King whiffed out a sliver of what was going on with his wife and Aleksander, he would rain hellfire. He was a powerful man, the most powerful man in all of Ravka and there was nothing more dangerous than an embarrassed man's actions.

His thoughts were interrupted by a loud noise he hadn't heard in a very long time, followed by the very loud thuds of falling books. The tunnel?

'ALEKSANDER?' your panicked voice reached him and triggered something primal in him. fight or flight. He and his shadows shot up and ran to you but stopped dead in his tracks, the black matter disappearing in on itself. You stood at the entrance to the tunnel, visibly shaking with anger, but that's wasn't the cause of his shock.

'Saints Y/N' He whispered, realization flooding over him like a nasty wave of ice-cold water. Your once ivory white nightgown was drenched in crimson but you were uninjured, it wasn't yours. The huge green Lanstov emerald sitting atop your left hand was smeared in red too, giving it a brown tinge.

'I need to get out of here right now.' You sounded solid and stern, the panic was long gone. The scrappy fighter was back.

Aleksander had always known what to say. But now, he didn't have a single word come to his mind and his body refused to move, he was rendered speechless and useless. This is a nightmare, surely, he prayed.

'Y/N I-I, What happ-'

'Aleksander, unless you want to see my head on a pike by dawn, I suggest you help me' You said as you moved across the room, after closing the tunnel door firmly shut. How does she even know about these tunnels?

'I once heard a drunkard speak of tunnels beneath the palaces, I tried my luck' You said answering his question without even being asked,

Your hands moved quick, shedding yourself of the nightgown and holding it in your hands as you moved to grab his black robe off a chair. Aleksander still stood there, his head whirling with so many thoughts, it debilitated him. He needed her to say it.

'Y/N did you do what I think you did'

'You know I did'

At that moment the doors burst open to reveal Ivan with an alarmed look on his face and his hands raised, ready to jump into action, most likely alerted by the falling books. But he faltered when he saw you, The Queen, covered in blood and holding a bloody nightgown in the most secure room of the Little Palace.

'Great another witness' You huffed and dumped the gown into the fireplace.

'Moi soverenyi, what is the meaning of this?'

'Ivan I wish I could tell you.'

'I killed the King. I have approximately 3 hours before somebody notices him laying in his own blood with his neck slit open' You sighed and sat down, head in your hands. This was the first moment you'd had to process it all, and it was overwhelming, to say the least.

A silence enveloped the room as the fire roared back to life, already having burnt the evidence to a crisp. Aleksander finally came to his senses, moved and grabbed a bowl of water and a cloth.

'Did anybody see you leave?' He asked as he handed you the items to wash your hands of the sticky blood.

'No. I made sure of it. I traveled through the tunnels.'

'And the King? There is no weapon near him?' Ivan interrupted.

Slowly you bent down and pulled a small dagger out of your shoe. Small but sharp.

'Give that to me' Aleksander took it out of your hands and walked out of the room while you continued to scrub the crimson off your hands.

You momentarily looked at Ivan, he didn't look mad or upset. He looked like a soldier.

'Are you not mad your King is dead?' You mused.

'He was not my King'

'That makes two of us' You were done cleaning your hands and moved to clean the ring. Should I burn this too?

'Leave it on. If things go sideways, you can buy your freedom' Aleksander returned. 'Ivan go get 2 horses and pack essentials. Get Genya too. I trust you to keep quiet.'

'Yes Moi soverenyi, Moya tsaritsa' He bowed his head quickly and waltzed out the room.

'Aleksander I'm scared now.....what have I done' You whispered. He took hold of your hand and pulled you into him. He held you tight, not wanting to let go.

'It's going to be ok. I promise. There's a small cottage down south I want you to go to. Ivan will take you. You will be safe. I will right this. I will protect you as I should've done earlier.' He kissed you deeply, letting all of the emotions flow through without the need for words.

'And what then?' You whispered against his lips.

'You be you. Perhaps go to Ketterdam. I feel you belong there... or come back to me when the time is right' He kissed you again, it was sweet and sad. A goodbye kiss. 'I love you, and even though you don't like it, you are my Queen. Forever'

'I love you too' Your hands fisted at his beautiful black kefta as tears dripped off your face.

****

That night you fled, your hair and appearance completely changed. The peasant clothes you felt comfortable in were on your back while the heartrenderer galloped beside you. Os Alta was still asleep as you sped down south, praying to the Saints that leaving Aleksander to deal with your mess was the right decision. That he would be ok too.

Ravka was shaken by the news of their dead King and the missing Queen. Some say she was dead, kidnapped by Fjerdans, and slaughtered mercilessly, others said Kerch merchants had her thrown in the Fold as she refused to give up information.

Either way, Aleksander had made sure you weren't regarded as a murderer and kept his promise to give you a chance to return to the Little Palace, to him.

Also if u can see this fic plz interact with it!! Idk if my tumblr is fixed yet and I need to make sure!!! If u were tagged and it didn’t notify you like last time, plz tell me!!!! 💓💓

Taglist (tell me if u want to be added)

@theonelittleone @searching-for-gallifrey @lostysworld @0-artemis @exo-1204 @staradorned @bookfrog242 @simp-for-ben-barners @keepdaydreamingbb @acciorudolphx

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wondernimbus · 4 years

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breaking point — draco malfoy

pairing: draco malfoy x female!reader

summary: draco reaches breaking point.

a/n: i wrote this for @nebulablakemurphy‘s writing challenge !! congrats again and i hope i did your prompt justice <3 the prompt was “i had no choice” and will be in bold (also can i just say this was so sad to write .. draco just needs a hug my dudes)

[Y/N] knows every inch of Draco better than she knows herself. Knows all of the quirks that he thinks are flaws, all his little insecurities, his habits and his innermost secrets and all the worries that plague his head even before he tells her about them.

But she doesn't know how long he has been like this. She notices, though, that the light in Draco's eyes has begun to dim; he is losing some of his color, the bags under his eyes deepening, the frown lines drawn across his face growing more prominent. The worst part is that she doesn't know exactly when this started—how long he's been like this—but one day she knocks on his dorm room, when all of his roommates are home for the holidays and only a few Slytherins have chosen to stay.

When she pushes open the door, Draco is alone, hunched over at the edge of his bed with his head in his hands, bowed down like he's trying to become as small as possible.

She stops in the doorframe.

"Draco?" she says softly, rapping her knuckles against the open door as she steps inside the room. It's dark. The lanterns are off. "Why weren't you at dinner?"

Draco doesn't respond. Only as [Y/N] draws nearer does she realize that Draco's hands are trembling in his hair, and [Y/N] panics a little, feels her breath catch in her throat with dread as she pauses halfway to him.

"Draco?" she asks quietly, tentatively, stepping forward and reaching out a hand to touch him—

But then Draco recoils like he's been struck, standing up so suddenly [Y/N] lets out a quiet little gasp.

"Get out," he whispers, eyes wide but not quite meeting hers, and his voice—he doesn't sound like himself. Doesn't look like himself, either; he looks more tired than ever, like he's aged a thousand years older, his face gaunt and sunken. [Y/N] stares at him, at a loss for words.

Since when had it gotten this bad? She'd known for a while that something was up; something he wasn't telling her. Something she couldn't figure out. But she thought she was helping him by not bringing it up and by giving him space.

Guilt blooms inside of her chest. Should she have tried harder? Found out what exactly it was so she could help him properly and not just sit by the sidelines, thinking that she was helping, but in reality she'd watched him get worse?

Like a ticking time bomb, she thinks to herself. And I just let him explode.

She takes a hesitant step forward, hand held out before her as she says, gently, (and yet there is only so much she can do to mask how her voice shakes), "Tell me what's wrong, Draco."

"Get out."

"Darling," her breath rattles in her throat. "Let me help."

"GET OUT!"

[Y/N] pauses several feet away from him. He has whipped out his wand, pointed it directly towards her, and [Y/N] freezes in place.

"You can't help me," Draco says, breathing ragged. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry," his voice cracks, his wand shaking in his hand. "Get out. Please."

[Y/N] inhales sharply. But even then, she doesn't stand down. She isn't afraid of Draco; she could never be. She should see a dangerous boy with his wand pointed at her, capable of doing anything he wants to to force her out of the room, but instead all she sees is Draco. The boy she has loved for so long, who, for some reason that she doesn't yet know, is in so much pain.

"You're not going to hurt me," she says. There isn't a sliver of doubt in her voice.

Draco makes a frustrated noise, his lips curling in a way that lets [Y/N] know he's trying to hold it together. "You don't.. you don't know that. You don't know what I'm capable of, [Y/N]," he says, and it should sound threatening, but all she hears is anguish. "You don't know what I've become."

[Y/N] risks another step closer to him. Five feet away. The hand holding his wand stays up, pointed directly towards her, but she knows, the same way she knows that the sun will rise and fall everyday, that Draco wouldn't hurt her.

"Draco," she begins, fighting to keep her voice steady. "Just let me help you. Tell me what's wrong."

And then Draco does something that knocks the breath out of her throat—roughly, he pulls up the sleeve of his robes, revealing the skin of his left arm.

A tattoo of a skull, with a serpent protruding from its mouth.

The Dark Mark.

And all of a sudden everything makes sense.

[Y/N] blinks and forces herself to breathe again, mind untangling bits of logic, stringing them around her throat, pulling tight. "Draco—"

"I had no choice!" he screams; a guttural sound. Something so pained it doesn't even sound like him anymore. But he doesn't look or sound or seem angry at her—no, the way he tugs at his hair in frustration, the blazing look in his eyes all suggests that he is more angry at the world than anything. Angry at himself, even. But not at her. "He said he'd kill everyone I loved if I didn't take the bloody mark—he said he'd murder my entire family—and [Y/N], he knows you, I don't know how but he knows you and he—"

A cut-off sort of choking noise leaves Draco's lips. "He said he'd force me to watch you die."

“Oh, Draco.”

She rushes forward just as he sinks to his knees, face contorting as he begins to cry—heartbroken sobs that surge straight through the spaces between her ribcage and sink into her heart. But the pain she feels as she wraps her arms around Draco and holds him close no doubt pales in comparison to what he feels.

"It's okay, it's okay," she whispers into the crown of his head, letting him cry into her shoulder. And it hurts, how this is the only thing she can do to help him, and it's excruciating—it's torture, how his chest lurches with the force of his sobs, how he tries to stifle the whimpers that leave his lips and he keeps choking out apologies as though this human show of vulnerability is something to be ashamed of. And it's not. It's not.

“It’s fine, Draco,” she murmurs, raking her hands through his hair, pressing comforting little kisses to the top of his head. “It’s okay. You can cry. It’s okay.”

She can't rid him of all his pain. God, she'd love to—if she could only reach straight into him and pull all the pain out, even if it means she has to bear the weight of his burdens herself, she would do it. With zero hesitation.

But she can't, so all that she is left to do is hold Draco as tightly to her as she can, his tears soaking into her collar. At some point—she doesn't know exactly when—she realizes that her own cheeks are wet, and that salty taste on her tongue is likely her tears, but this isn't about her. This is about Draco and that blasted mark on his arm and everything that he has been forced to endure. So she presses her lips together into a tight line, holding back her own sobs, silent tears dripping down her chin and onto Draco's hair.

She holds him until she loses track of time, sitting curled up on the floor as she waits for Draco's sobs to turn into quiet sniffles. When they do, she feels his shoulders sag as the fight in him dies down, replaced only by weak sort of defeat that has his head hanging low, leaning still on the crook of her neck, shoulders hunched over.

[Y/N] stays silent. She knows this isn't about her. So she waits, rubbing circles into his shoulder blades and carding her hands gently through his hair because she knows that it calms him. She waits for two, three minutes, but she doesn't count the seconds as they pass; just stares out the window of the Slytherin dorm room, watching the water ripple just behind the glass.

And she waits.

And waits.

And she knows she will wait for as long as it takes.

Finally, after some time, Draco makes a move to lift his head off of her shoulder. She lets him, slowly, hands sliding from his back to cup the side of his face as he draws away to look at her.

Draco stares at her through bleary eyes, and oh—[Y/N] feels more tears stinging at the back of her eyes, burning at her throat. He looks even more tired from up close. So, very tired. His eyes are swollen and his cheeks tinged pink from all the crying, but what has [Y/N]'s tears spilling over again is that sad frown on his face—and [Y/N] realizes, with yet another horrible rush of guilt, that this isn't the first time she has seen this look on Draco. It's the same expression he has worn every single day that [Y/N] convinced herself wasn't something to worry too much about, but now she sees it clear as day: that look of resignation, as though he's been through so, so much and just wants to rest. To have it done with.

So, so tired. And so sad.

And it's that sudden realization—that she might not know Draco as well as she thought she did, that he has been here, struggling, all of this time, carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders without anyone to help him bear it, and [Y/N] has never realized—it's the realization of that that has her whispering, "I'm sorry, Draco."

She leans forward, pressing her forehead against his, the tips of their noses just brushing as she closes her eyes and rakes in a deep, shuddering breath. "I'm sorry, darling. I should've known. I should've helped sooner."

But Draco is patient and loving and good, so much more than she deserves, so all he does is shake his head and say, quietly, "It's not your fault." Her eyes are closed and she misses the way Draco is staring at her—like he always has, like the entire sky is opening up after weeks and weeks of rain. "It's not your fault," he repeats, voice scratchy, but he finds the strength in him to lift a hand and cup the side of her jaw, thumbing at the tears that have fallen on her cheeks despite the ones on his own.

[Y/N] swallows down the lump in her throat, squeezes her eyes shut for a few more moments, then opens them again. She pulls away and moves her hands to hold his lower arm—the one with the mark—and gently, she makes Draco hold the tattoo up between the pair of them. Her breathing is still erratic, but she says, her hands cradling his arm, smoothing over his skin, "This doesn't change anything."

Draco's eyes swim with all sorts of conflicting emotions—anger and guilt and disgust and sadness—as he stares down at the mark, lips turned down into a frown.

"Draco, listen to me," she whispers, urging him to look at her. "If you think that this stupid mark makes you any less of a person, you're wrong. You are still the same boy I fell in love with. The same boy I'm still in love with, and that's not going to change, Draco, do you hear me? You're—" she pauses as a tear slips down her cheek and onto his arm, landing on the Dark Mark. "You are brave," she says, voice laced thick with emotion as her grip tightens. "And I love you."

And Draco is still scared. Still so terrified of what's to come. The mark on his wrist isn't going away—no amount of regret will ever have it fade—but sitting here, sharing the same breath as the girl who makes his heart feel like everything is going to be okay, no matter how bleak things may get, no matter how hopeless life may seem, Draco allows himself to think, even for a few, meager moments, that everything is going to be okay.

taglist: @dancing-in-the-moonlight3 @kalimagik @alittletoomanyobsessions @hariosborn @obsessedwithrandomthings @emcchi @sxrensxngwrites @enjoying-fantasyland21 @masterofthedarkness @siriusly-addicted-to-writing @bforbroadway @hufflefluff-writer @summer-writes @chaotic-fae-queen @firewhisky-kisses @dracosvftie @heloisedaphnebrightmore @idont-knowrn @dreamer821 @peachesandpinks @slytherinprincess03 @chocfrogaddict @nebulablakemurphy

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heliads · 3 years

Text

Are You Happy With Him?

Y/N is a Med-Jack in the Glade, who happens to be dating Gally. Newt happens to be completely in love with her, but he may have more of a chance with her than he’d first thought.

masterlist

The night is dark, the air is cool. Sparks dance away from the fire, and the Gladers mill about watching Gally pummel whatever boy had the misfortune to step into the circle with him, all the while pretending they can’t see the looming walls of the Maze rising up around them. Thomas is seated on the ground a distance away from everyone else, back leaned up against a fallen tree trunk while he listens to Newt explain everything there is to know about the Glade and the Maze and whatever else Thomas asks him.

The sound of footsteps draws close, and seconds later another boy swings into a seat next to the two of them. Newt grins to see his friend. “Thomas, this is Minho. Think you’ve seen him around before, he’s a Runner.” Minho waves a greeting to Thomas, then glances back in the same direction as the two boys. “Newt talking you through life here in the Glade?”

Thomas nods. Minho keeps glancing around the campfire, then chuckles slightly when his eyes fall on the lone girl standing among the other Gladers. “Newt mentioned her yet?” Newt groans, but Thomas shakes his head. “No, not once. Who is she?” Minho adjusts his position so he’s facing Thomas, holding up his hands as if the runner’s about to deliver a key piece of information.

“That right there is Y/N. She’s a Med-Jack, although we all call her a Med-Jane because we’re a bunch of shanks who like to mess with our friends. The reason she’s so important is because Newt here is head over heels for her.” Newt rolls his eyes. “That’s not true, Minho, and you know that. Besides, it doesn’t matter how any one of us feel about her, because she’s seeing Gally. End of story.”

Minho groans. “Come on, Newt, there’s not a single person here who’d believe that klunk. Newt’s obsessed with her, but to be fair, we all kind of are. Anyways, the point is she’s one of the best Med-Jacks here, but you wouldn’t know it because Gally gives us a death stare whenever we talk about her for more than thirty seconds.”

Thomas looks up to see Y/N approaching the three boys. She jerks her head at them, and Newt and Minho move over so she can sit down. “I heard my name being mentioned. You telling the Greenie about how I’m the best person in the Glade by far?” Minho laughs. “We were saying that if he ever breaks an arm he should go to Clint instead.” Y/N lunges over to hit Minho on the shoulder, and the friends break into laughter.

Newt reaches behind him to grab a glass full of a frothy (and somehow dirty) amber liquid, taking a sip to Y/N’s disgust. She makes a face at him. “Honestly, I don’t know how you stand that stuff. It’s foul.” Newt grins at her. “Your own boyfriend makes it, I feel like you should at least pretend to stomach it like the rest of us.” Y/N rolls her eyes. “Not even our relationship can make me want to look at that poison.”

She sighs suddenly, eyes travelling across the campfire to where Gally’s pummeling yet another Glader into submission. “And it wouldn’t be the only habit of Gally’s that I disagree with.” Minho nods slowly. “It’s the Med-Jane impulse. Stops you every time.” Y/N gives him a look dripping with outrage, and she and the boys dissolve into laughter.

After a while, limbs get stiff and the four stand up to take a tour around the campfire. Newt points out the different groups of Gladers, and they’re doing fine until Gally ‘accidentally’ shoves a stumbling opponent into Thomas’ back, causing him to lose his balance. Thomas dusts himself off, but looks up when Gally approaches him. “What do you say, Greenie? Want to see what you’re made of?”

Thomas stares at him, uncomprehending, but Y/N makes a quiet sound of annoyance. “Come on, Gally. It’s the guy’s first day here. Give him a break.” Gally ignores her, speaking even louder to Thomas to explain the rules of the fight. Newt drifts over, gently pulling Y/N away from the ring. “Let Thomas have a go. Gally probably won’t rough him up that much.”

They step aside, hanging on the outskirts of the group. Y/N winces as Gally shoves Thomas face-first into the dirt. “It’s barbaric. Does he really have to do this?” Newt stares at the ongoing fight, at Gally clearly reveling in the chance to rough up another Glader, then looks back at Y/N. “Are you happy with him?”

Y/N turns to him, a look almost like outrage on her face. “Of course I am, why would you ask me that? Maybe he has a few habits that aren’t my favorite, but he’s still one of the best guys in the Glade.” Newt shakes his head. “I’m not talking about Gally’s necessity as a Glader. I’m talking about how he makes you feel. Are you happy with him, Y/N? Actually happy?”

Y/N opens her mouth to speak, then closes it again. “I should be able to answer that.” She’s silent for a moment or two longer. “I don’t know.” She stares back at the fight, flinching slightly when Gally’s fist crosses Thomas’ face as if she’s already mentally figuring out how much time she’ll have to spend in the Med-Jack hut trying to put the Greenie back together.

“I don’t think I am. I don’t think anybody’s asked me that in a very long time, and I haven’t thought about it in even longer.” Y/N tilts her head down, sighing quietly. Newt glances back at her, then carefully slides an arm around her. She leans her head against his shoulder.

The morning is bright, heat already pouring into the Glade. Newt is about to take his break for lunch, but he looks around and realizes he doesn’t see the one girl who should’ve been out to eat before him. He taps Zart on the shoulder. “You seen Y/N?” The Track-Hoe nods. “She had some argument with Gally, then headed out to the Deadheads for some peace and quiet. I don’t think she’s come back since.” Newt considers this. “I’m going to go get her, tell her it’s time for lunch. See you after the break’s over.”

The trees of the Deadheads sway slightly, offering some much-appreciated shade and cool despite the burning heat of the sun. Newt doesn’t have to walk far before he finds Y/N seated on a high-reaching tree branch, head leaned back against the rough bark. He climbs up after her, and they both pretend not to notice when his bad leg gives out, making him slip for just a second.

“Is there a reason you’re camped out in the middle of the forest?” Newt asks, and Y/N smiles ever so slightly. “I’m here to avoid Gally. I broke up with him and now he’s passive aggressively building things as if every hammer swing could kill.” Newt frowns. “At least he’s being passive.” Y/N laughs. “Focus on the aggressive. It’s mostly just aggressive.”

She sighs suddenly, looking up at the tree branches around her. The leaves seem to form a slight crown around her head. “I never thought I’d be the one to end things. Always thought he’d get tired of me and that would be that. I don’t feel any different than I did before. Maybe a little more free, like I can finally complain about things and not have to mince my words around him.”

Newt nods. “He’ll come around after a while. He’ll mess around and be bloody angry for a while, but then he’ll be back to our usual easily-bothered Gally.” Y/N smiles. “You do have a way with words. I feel better already.” Newt laughs at that, then jumps down from the tree, holding out his hand to help Y/N down. “You’ll feel even better when you have your lunch. Come on, I’m sure Frypan’s outdone himself, or at least he’ll pretend he has.”

The afternoon is late, and Y/N’s still working in the Med-Jack hut despite the fact that she should have left long ago. Gally finally warmed up to her again a couple of days ago, and he’s sent in a torrent of injured Builders to join the already large number of wounded Slicers that occupy the hut. She’s been busy all morning, and finally finished sending the last boy out with bandaged hands and a promise to stay out of trouble.

Y/N’s just doing the last checks to make sure her workstation is clear and ready for the next morning when she hears a soft knock on the door behind her. She turns to see Newt lingering by the door, and smiles. “You’d better not have cut yourself too. I don’t even want to have to look at a bandage ever again, or maybe just until tomorrow.”

Newt grins, padding into the room to come stand next to her. “No injuries here. We’re all good.” His focus shifts to the cabinet open above him, and Y/N’s failed attempts to reach the door to put a faded glass bottle of ointment back inside. “Here, I’ve got you.” He takes the bottle from her hand, reaching up over her head to slide it inside and shut the door. When he looks back down, he realizes that his slight movement had shifted him close to Y/N, and they stand only an inch or two apart. He stands there for just a second, then leans forward with the air of someone taking a leap of faith and kisses her.

His hands slip around her waist, and Y/N presses her palms against the small of his back. When he breaks away, her eyes are light, and happier than he’s seen in a while. “I’ve been wanting you to do that for a long time.” She says, and Newt finally allows himself a smile. “I’ve been wanting the same.”

When morning breaks, it brings with it fear and overwhelming terror. After the doors to the Maze didn’t close at nightfall, the resulting Griever attack had left the Glade weak and unprotected. Newt walks with Y/N to the opening of the Maze, and wraps a protective hand around hers as they watch Gally prepare to sacrifice Thomas and Teresa to the Grievers in the hopes of protecting the rest of the Gladers.

Teresa, already tied to a wooden pole, argues desperately that their deaths will do nothing to save the Glade. Gally grows angry and orders Thomas to be tied up as well, but Thomas fights back against his would-be captors. The second Thomas lashes out, Y/N drops Newt’s hand, and the two of them join Minho, Frypan, and a score of other supporters to turn the tide, forcing Gally back with weapons drawn.

Y/N remains silent as Thomas speaks to the rest of the Gladers, urging them to escape the Maze with him. More walk away from Gally to join Thomas and the others, but still more remain on the other side. Finally, when the last of the Gladers willing to leave stand by Thomas, Y/N steps forward. She speaks directly to Gally, her voice cracking slightly.

“Gally, please. Come with us. You won’t survive here if you stay.” Gally shakes his head just slightly. “Good luck with the Grievers.” Y/N looks at him, remembering all of the love she’d once had for him in that moment. “Don’t do this, Gally. Please.” But Gally turns and walks away, leaving Y/N standing there to watch him go. Newt stands silently beside her, and Y/N looks at him with pain before allowing him to wrap his arms comfortingly around her. “He made his choice. There’s nothing you can do.” She nods hesitantly, and they walk together into the Maze.

The journey through the Maze is fraught with peril, and Y/N watches with horror as friends she’d known for months died at the claws of the Grievers. Finally, amazingly, a small handful of Gladers make it through the Maze and into the broken rooms of WICKED. Y/N holds Newt’s hand as they walk through the rooms, broken glass crunching under their feet. They do not intend to let go.

There’s a voice from across the destruction, from one of the other rooms. The Gladers group together instinctively, Newt pulling Y/N close to his side. A figure steps out from the darkness, and Y/N’s breath catches in her throat when she recognizes the boy. “Gally?” Her voice echoes across the room and he nods ever so slightly. Newt steps in front of her protectively when he notices the gun in Gally’s hand.

Gally shakes his head quickly when he sees the boy move. “I’m not going to shoot her, Newt. That’s not why I’m here. I could never hurt her.” Y/N speaks in a calm voice. “Put down the gun, Gally. We can talk about this, about why you’re here.” Gally shakes his head again with even more fervor than before. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I have to do this.” He takes a shuddering gasp, and his eyes clear for just a second even as tears begin to pour down his cheeks.

“Are you happy with him?” Y/N nods slowly when she hears his question. “Yes. I am.” Gally forces something that looks almost like a smile, but with the overwhelming twist of his face from the tears it looks bent and broken instead of joyful. Gally redirects his attention to Thomas, who is asking him to put down the gun. Gally shakes his head, sobs still racking his body. “I belong to the Maze. We all do.”

It all seems to happen at once. Gally pulls the trigger, Minho moves in a blur of movement to throw a spear through Gally’s chest. Gally stumbles and falls to the ground. Y/N lets out this quiet scream, her breath rasping sharply against her throat. Newt covers her eyes with his hand, making sure that she can’t see the dead body of the boy she’d once loved.

It is then that Thomas sees the blood starting to spread from Chuck’s chest, then that he sees the way Chuck’s breathing falters and he starts to collapse to the ground. Thomas bends over him, frantic. “Y/N, Clint, somebody! He’s been- he’s been-” Thomas can’t finish the sentence. Y/N kneels next to him, ignoring the blood beginning to stain her hands, but at last she stands up again and shakes her head almost imperceptibly at Thomas.

Silent tears run down her cheeks as Thomas stares at her in mute incomprehension, then turns back to Chuck. Y/N buries her face in Newt’s shoulder, unable to watch as the young boy breathes his last in Thomas’ arms. When it comes time for them to leave, Thomas’ screams echo down the empty hallways. Newt takes Y/N’s hand, whispers in her ear. “There was nothing you could have done.” She looks at him sadly. “I know. And it hurts even more for it.”

The two of them head back down the halls together, hand in hand. She won’t leave him, not now. Not ever. He needs her as much as she needs him, as much as the sun needs the moon and the earth needs one more chance to heal. They do not intend to leave each other, never again. They do not know if they will have a choice about it, but it does not matter. They would follow each other to the ends of the earth to give themselves the chance to stay together.

#newt #newt imagine #newt x reader #newt imagines #maze runner #maze runner imagine #maze runner x reader #maze runner imagines #maze runner newt #maze runner newt imagines #maze runner newt x reader #maze runner newt imagine #death cure #wicked

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alexandenigtscreations · 3 years

Photo

Have a sketch prompt you’d like to see? Send me an Ask!

Anon sketch prompt -> here, asked about TMA endgame speculations. And, ho boy, I do have a lot of them. Though I think I managed to get the core theories down.

Going to break this into three broad categories: Together, Apart and Fade Away.

Together:

There are a couple of ways that these two could remain together. 1) they can’t turn the world back and just have to deal with permanent Eyepocolypse. This would mean that Gertrude was right on the tape, that a change of this magnitude can’t be undone. I don’t think this is likely because Jonah was the one that sent the tapes to Jon. He’s going to try and play as many mind games as he can to keep the watcher’s crown in his place. A way out of that would be to make a new ritual to remake the world as best they could (if Jonny wants to give his characters a way out at all). They could also flat out end the world and everyone’s suffering. After all, it is a tragedy.

2) Martin does what Peter Lucas tried to set him up for in the first place and Kills Jonah’s body, taking his place. (I’m personally obsessed with this idea). I think it is likely that Jonah chose Martin to be the replacement for Elias’s body (being that he targeted people with few attachments and were underestimated). Until Lucas took an interest in Martin that is. Martin probably is holding a lot of blame for the eyepocolypse too, being that he could have Killed Jonah right then and there and stopped any of this from happening. There is probably a lot of fear that Lucas was probably being serious with having Martin stop Beholding’s ritual. Or, we could, potentially, lose Martin as we know him. That would definitely screw Jon up pretty bad. Or Martin might be equal in power to Jon. Do think it’s likely that Martin will surprise us again.

3) Twisted: where their trials become to much. They break under the horror of it all and give in to the fear and power. Martin may take Jonah’s spot with a bit of friendly murder and they take up residence in the Watcher’s tower. Maybe Martin refuses to let go of Jon; holding on to the promise of not letting bad things happen to him. Don’t think it’s likely given Jon’s stubbornness and Martin’s steadfastness, but it’s fun :D

I can see them going into more grey moral areas though, and it will be really interesting to see how they deal.

Apart:

Even as an avatar, Jon had been able to go through Helen’s doors. Now? He’s far more powerful than a mear avatar. The old world may not be able to handle someone like Jon. If they manage to create a new pocket dimension to force the fears into, Jon might be dragged along with them. Martin being unable to stop any of it.

This could also be separated by death. Most likely Jon’s. (In one of the Q&A sessions, Jonny mentioned that things would be “especially bad for Martin”) This makes me believe that he will live on after the season 5 finale. Also, the death of the narrator would make for a defined end.

Fade Away:

Following the trail of fear crumbs, I believe that this is the most likely of outcomes. It would give Martin time to say goodbye to Jon. It would give them a respite, and a few more tender moments before Jon collapses in on himself. Jon has mentioned before that he doesn’t want to be a forgotten mystery (I believe this was in the Library of Alexandria episode), but after everything said and done, maybe being a mystery isn’t so bad when compared to an Apocalypse. I’m imagining two types of fade-away scenarios.

1) Relating to Mikaele Salesa’s safe house. Jon just crumbles both mentally and physically in the normal world. Leaving Martin as a caretaker until Jon dies. I HATE this one. Give me blood, murder, bloody worms, but don’t let Jon forget Martin. Damn it! This may occur if Jon does something like blind himself and cut off all connection from Beholding. “Could you even survive at this point?” Martin had asked in season 4, and Jon didn’t have an answer.

2) John Amherst withering away to nothing. If Jon is to fade away, I really hope that it’s like season 4 and it’s mostly his body. John Amherst when entombed in the concrete slab by Gertrude’s assistant, was implied to have died over a period of years after being cut off from frears. I’m hypothesizing that if they end the eyepocolypse, that they wouldn’t be able to fully extract the fears from the world. It would be as before, the fears praying on the most vulnerable. Jon, who was the most powerful being in the eyepocalypse and had been force fed the fears of the Entire World, is probably unable to go back to statements and snaring victims. (though it would be low key hilarious if the whole world just had nightmares about our archivist and he was actually healthy for the first time since joining the Magnus institute). He’s not fully cut off, so he gets to keep his mind, but his body deteriorates.

We might hear Jon’s last moments caught on the tape recorder, ending the final episode. And I don’t know what to do with that, the final “Statement Ends”

Other Things I have no Idea what to do with:

The Web: What do they want? Do they really prefer the world as it was? Do they want it back? Or do they like things as they are now? Annabelle seems to have no trouble pulling strings from Mikaele salesa’s place, so that may mean that the camera doesn’t work on all the fears. I mean, Annabelle is being kept alive by bloody spiders and has been living there just fine, even able to dispatch of creatures of the corruption that wander into the bubble. She’s been there the whole time! And she’s fine!

I think that the web did want the eyepocolypse to happen though. Just that manipulators don’t like to get their hands dirty if they can get someone else to do it for them.

Helen: Love, love, love Helen; but don’t trust her. I understand attaching yourself to the most powerful being in the hellscape, but, she is a being of lies and deception. What is her long game? Does she even think in those terms?

Mikaele Salesa’s Camera: Either it, or something like it will come back again. Jon and Beholding have their own kryptonite guys! Also, he was wandering through the hellscape, looking for a pad to crash in. The hellscape turned back into the world as we knew it when he passed seeming to indicate that it’s still there, under the fear.

Georgie and Melony: Being that Georgie can’t feel fear and Melony ex-communicated herself from the damn eye, pretty damn sure they made their own little safety pocket. What that looks like, and what impact it will have on Jon is unknown.

Basira: Could still try to kill Jon. The world ended, so what the hell right?

Chrysalis: The hell is Jon’s chrysalis? The hell does that mean? Is this physical? Metaphorical? or Both?

Tape Recorders: Given that these bad boys were able to work in the Mikaele Selesa’s safe house, just want to know what their story is and where the tapes go when they finish recording. Can’t really picture Jon or Martin carrying around a cassette collection in the eyepocolypse.

Marked: So, Daisy was able to hurt Jon because of the strength of the mark she made before the eyepocolypse, makes me wonder what other avatars that marked our archivist could do to Jon.

Statement Ends

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petrichoravellichor · 3 years

Text

Title: A New Kind of Life

Wordcount: ~10k

Rating: T

Summary: What if, when Sam and Dean break into the Empty, Cas isn’t the only one they save? A post-15x19 fix-it fic in which Crowley gets a second shot at the redemption (and family) he deserves.

(Read on Ao3)

********************

Chapter 1 (of 5) (Ch. 2, Ch. 3, Chs. 4 & 5)

“Crowley! Wake up, you son of a bitch, wake up!”

Crowley opens his eyes to Dean shaking him hard by the shoulders. Which is strange: the last thing Crowley remembers, he was dying, alone and forgotten in a parallel universe.

He isn’t there anymore. Instead, Dean is kneeling over him in a dome of golden light beyond which everything is dark, and for a brief, absurd moment he’ll chastise himself for later, Crowley thinks he’s somehow ended up in Heaven.

Then he glances past Dean and sees Sam with an exhausted-looking Castiel slumped against him; next to them is a younger man Crowley doesn’t recognize, but his eyes are molten gold, the same color as the dome surrounding them all. The amount of raw power emanating from the golden-eyed man makes every one of Crowley’s hairs stand on end, and not in a good way.

No, definitely not his idea of Heaven.

Crowley snaps his gaze back to Dean. “What—” he begins, but Dean cuts him off, hauling him to his feet.

“No time for questions!” Dean yells, and it’s only then that Crowley registers the roar coming from beyond the dome: it’s as though they’re standing in the eye of a hurricane as all around them things blow apart. “Come on, we gotta go!”

And then they’re all running, the dome of light moving with them like a shield as wispy black wraiths crash and burn against its perimeter and somewhere unseen, a hideous voice howls in rage.

*****

Once they’re safely back in the Bunker war room, Dean takes hold of Castiel and, along with the golden-eyed man—whose irises have faded to a soft, concerned blue—ushers him off in the direction of the infirmary, promising gruffly as he goes that he and Crowley will talk later.

Patience, however, is a virtue, and Crowley isn’t feeling particularly virtuous—especially not after seeing how tenderly Dean and Castiel looked at each other as Dean wrapped an arm around the angel’s waist and led him from the room. The sight had left a bitter taste in Crowley’s mouth, one he does his best to ignore. There will be time for that later; right now, he needs answers, and he’s not waiting on Dean in order to get them.

He crosses his arms and fixes Sam with an expectant glare. “All right, Moose,” he says, "out with it: what in God’s name is going on?”

Sam snorts, looking tired. “Um, yeah, about that...” He gestures towards the map table, then heads over to the liquor cabinet. “You...might wanna sit down.”

Crowley arches a brow, but he does as Sam suggests. Sam joins him a moment later and, after pouring them each a drink, spends the better part of the next hour telling Crowley all that’s transpired in the three years—three years—Crowley’s been dead.

Which is, it turns out, rather a lot.

Lucifer’s spawn survived his birth and is none other than the golden-eyed man Crowley saw when he woke up; his name is Jack, and for all intents and purposes, he considers Castiel to be his father.

An alternate version of Michael got a hold of Dean for a while, until Jack killed Michael at the cost of his soul, then, in a soulless rage, killed Mary.

God killed Jack. All Hell broke loose. Rowena, who’d apparently survived Lucifer’s last attempt to kill her, died to fix it and was now Queen of Hell.

Billie brought Jack back to kill God. Dean tried to kill Billie, so Billie tried to kill him. Castiel managed to take Billie out by admitting his love for Dean, at which point the Empty took Castiel—

Of course, thinks Crowley, the bitter taste in his mouth returning with a vengeance. Of. Bloody. Course...

The brothers had stormed the Empty not for him, but for Castiel. Good, noble, righteous Castiel, the wayward Angel of Thursday who’s been hopelessly in love with Dean for longer than Crowley has known him...and whom, it seems, Dean has finally admitted to loving back. Sam and Dean had saved Castiel because they loved him, because Dean loved him, but Crowley...They’d probably only rescued him because they’d figured they owed him for saving their denim-clad arses that day at the lake.

Now, as Crowley half-listens to Sam talk about defeating God, he glowers down at the map table and wishes they hadn’t bothered bringing him back at all, because it’s one thing to die unloved; it’s another to have to live that way. Crowley’s done both, and he knows which he prefers. At least in the Empty, he’d been at peace.

“Crowley? Hey, you okay?”

He looks up to see Sam regarding him from under a furrowed brow. Bollocks...

“Naturally,” Crowley says, leaning back in his chair with a dismissive smile. “That’s quite a tale, Moose. It sounds like you and Squirrel have outdone yourselves these past few years, even managed to pull one over on God; bravo. I’m sure Lucifer’s spawn will make a spectacular replacement: he is, after all, three.”

Sam’s eyes harden. “Jack’s nothing like Lucifer; he’s good, and he’s got us to help him, and Amara—”

“Oh, Amara! Now there’s a recipe for success if I’ve ever heard one: God’s evil sister and her Satanic great-nephew with billions of raw souls at their disposal. How could that possibly go wrong?” Crowley scoffs, shaking his head. “Honestly, there’s just no learning with you lot, is there? You just keep humming the same damn tune, then acting surprised when the notes turn sour, and it never even occurs to you to pick. A new. Bloody. Song.”

The frown on Sam’s face intensifies. “This is different. Jack, Amara, they’re on our side, and now that Rowena’s in charge of Hell—”

Crowley snorts. “Right. Care to wager on how long that lasts?” Then, at the look of sudden wariness on Sam’s face, he rolls his eyes. “Calm down, Moose; that wasn’t me plotting a coup. I have no plans to try and take back the crown.”

“You don’t?”

“Why on earth would I?” Crowley takes a sip of brandy, grimacing slightly at the flavor—for all the changes the past few years have wrought, the Winchesters’ abominable taste in liquor remains tragically consistent. “Perhaps you’ve forgotten, but I hated Hell as much as the blasted place hated me. If Mother thinks she can do better, she can have it.”

They sit without speaking for a moment; then Sam clears his throat. “You know,” he says quietly, “Rowena regrets how things ended between the two of you.”

Crowley stiffens, a stab of anger piercing his gut. “No, she doesn’t.”

“She does,” Sam insists, and how anyone can look so stupidly earnest is beyond Crowley’s ability to comprehend. “She told us so.”

Crowley scoffs. “And you believed her?” he demands, left hand closing into a fist at his side. “You know, for the longest time, I thought you were the smart one.”

Sam sighs. “Crowley...Look, I’m not saying Rowena’s perfect—”

“She’s quite literally the Queen of Hell, Moose.” Crowley manages to keep his voice level, but his fingernails are digging into his palm. “I’d say that’s about as far from perfect as anyone can get.”

“—but I think you two should talk.”

Crowley’s hand starts to bleed.

“I mean it,” continues Sam, when Crowley says nothing. “When I was a kid, my dad...he wasn’t there the way he should’ve been, and we fought a lot, and there were times I felt like I hated him, but when he died...”

A multitude of emotions flicker across Sam’s face in rapid succession, too fast for Crowley to name them all, but the final one, the one Sam looks back at him with, is regret. “When he died,” Sam continues, “I didn’t care about any of that. And maybe I should have. I know I should have. Believe me, I tried. But I just...kept coming back to the fact that what I was feeling, the good and the bad, I’d never get to actually say it to him, and if he was somehow sorry for the bad, that was something I’d never get to hear.”

Crowley’s anger flares white hot; his hidden palm is slick with blood. “If you have a point,” he growls, “I’d encourage you to come out with it.”

“My point,” says Sam, curtly, “is that you actually have a chance at some closure, and I think you should take it. For your own sake.”

Crowley clenches his jaw, looks away. “For my own sake,” he echoes, softly. As if his and Sam’s pain is the same. As if Rowena is capable of causing anything but. “Tell me, Moose: since when do you or your imbecile of a brother actually give a damn about my own sake?”

He raises his gaze to stare coldly at Sam who, for the first time since they sat down, seems at a genuine loss for words. Crowley snaps his glass down on the table and stands. “Thought as much.”

He shoves his hands in his coat pockets and turns to go—where, exactly, he has no idea—only to nearly crash headlong into Dean, and suddenly, Crowley’s anger turns to outright fury, because at the end of the day, it didn’t matter.

It didn’t matter that Crowley had gone up against Hell and his mother and even his own better judgment for Dean more times than he could count.

It didn’t matter that the two of them had shared a bed when Dean was a demon, doing extraordinary things to triplets that Crowley would have kicked out in a heartbeat if he’d thought he could get away with it.

It didn’t matter that Crowley had sacrificed his life to save Dean and Sam and the whole bloody world.

None of it mattered, because for all the times Crowley had chosen Dean, Dean had never once chosen him. Then again, Crowley thinks, maybe it’s his own fault for expecting any different, his due comeuppance for stupidly believing he deserved to be loved. It doesn’t matter; he knows better now.

“Hello, Dean,” he snarls. “Come to look in on me now that you’ve seen to your angel? Well you needn’t have bothered; I was just leaving.”

Dean frowns, crossing his arms. “The hell do you mean, you’re leaving?”

“I mean get out of my way.”

“No.”

“And why not?” Crowley demands, voice rising. “Am I your prisoner? I’ve already told your oaf of a brother that I’ve no interest in causing any sort of trouble in Hell, so if that’s what this is about, then you can just—”

“Damn it, Crowley,” snaps Dean, “no, that’s not what this is about; it’s about where are you even gonna go. You got a place somewhere we don’t know about?”

“I’ll find one.”

“Or,” Dean counters, “you could cut the crap and just stay here.”

That catches Crowley off guard, but only for a moment; he gives Dean a hard look, determined not to let the surprise show on his face. “And why on earth would I want to do that?”

“Because you know it’s the smart thing to do,” says Dean, face impassive, “and last I checked, you were an asshole, not an idiot.”

And it’s not that Crowley doesn't know full well that running off half-cocked into a world whose dynamics have fundamentally changed is naive at best and suicidal at worst—that isn’t what makes him nearly scream in rage, because he knows it’s patently true. No, the infuriating thing, the truly mortifying thing, is that Dean knows him well enough to know that he knows it, and that if Crowley does leave, he’s only going to prove Dean right.

The thought is more than Crowley can bear; still, if he doesn’t get out of this room right now, he’s going to start shouting—at Dean, at himself, at everything. There are other, less crowded places in this godforsaken Bunker, and it’s past time he went and found one. He’s not going to give Dean the satisfaction of watching him break.

Crowley pulls his fury tight and close, stepping forward into Dean’s space and glaring up at him with every bit of defiance he can muster. “Funny,” he sneers, “because last I checked, you were both.”

And he vanishes before Dean can respond.

*****

Crowley finds an unoccupied room at the far end of the hall and decides to claim it as his own for the time being. He bolts the door and turns to collapse onto the bed...only to freeze dead in his tracks.

His mother is standing in the corner. As Crowley gapes, Rowena takes a step forward, face pale and incredulous. “Fergus?” she whispers. “Gods, is it really you?”

Her voice snaps Crowley out of his shock, and he narrows his eyes. “Mother,” he growls, the word like poison in his mouth. “What do you want?”

“Sam told me they were going to try and get you back,” Rowena says softly, eyes roving over Crowley’s face as though seeing him for the first time, “and I wanted...I needed to see if they’d done it, if you were all right.”

Crowley glares, making a mental note to have a word with Sam about this particular indiscretion. “Well, you’ve seen me. Now get out.”

Rowena recoils, and if Crowley didn’t know any better, he’d swear his words actually hurt her. “You’re angry,” she says. “You’re angry, and you’ve every right to be, but if you’d just let me explain—”

“Explain what?” Crowley snaps. He clenches both hands into fists, ignoring the burn in his left palm. “What could you possibly have to say to me that I’d want to hear? You hate me, remember?”

“I love you—”

Crowley barks out a laugh. “Really? Have you forgotten the last time we saw each other? You left on a bus after you sent my son to his death, all because you wanted to watch me ‘suffer the loss of a child’, of my child!” He stumbles towards her, half-blind with rage. “Tell me, Mother: did losing me bring you any suffering, or were you just sad you weren’t there to collect three pigs in exchange?”

Rowena looks as though she’s been slapped. “Of course I suffered! Do you have any idea what I went through trying to get you back? I faced Death herself; I begged her to return you to me, but she wouldn’t do it! Ask Sam, ask Dean!”

“They’ve already told me,” Crowley grinds out. “It doesn’t matter.”

“How can you say that?” Rowena is crying now, tears rolling freely down her face. “Of course it matters! I did it because I missed you, because I love you!”

“You’ve never loved me a day in your life.”

“That isn’t true! I did love you; I do!” Rowena takes another step forward and reaches out a hand. “If you could just find it in your heart to forgive me—”

“Forgive you?” Crowley snarls, and it’s all he can do not to spit in her face. “You don’t get to ask for my forgiveness, not after any one thing you’ve put me through, not after everything! What was it you said to me that day at the bus station, your parting words? ‘Who better than me to crush your shriveled heart’? At least I had a heart, once; you never did.”

“Fergus—”

And Crowley explodes. “GET OUT!” he screams, seizing the lamp off the bedside table and hurling it at his mother with all his might...only to watch as it flies right through her and crashes into the wall.

And then Rowena’s gone, just like she always is, and Crowley’s alone, just like he always is. He stands in the middle of the room and stares hollowly into empty space. “Astral projection,” he says, quietly; it always had been one of his mother’s favorite tricks. “Of course.”

He spends the rest of the night warding the room as many ways as he knows how, determined not to let his mother or anyone else get the drop on him again.

#crowley #spn crowley #fergus macleod #crowley macleod #crowley fic #spn #supernatural #supernatural fix-it fic #spn fix-it fic #fanfiction #a new kind of life #my writing #here we gooooo!!!

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themadlostgirl · 3 years

Text

Abandoned (7)

*Peter’s turn to be a jealous walnut.*

~~~

Peter and I sat on the beach tangled together. The soft kisses we had shared turning ravenous and hungry. Peter was barely giving me time to breathe before pressing his mouth back against mine. His hands never stopped either. They went from resting on my face to tangled in my hair gliding up and down my body. Pushing and pulling us closer until the heat between us was unbearable.

“Peter,” I gasped, finally catching moment to breathe. “I need to--” My words broke off into incoherency as he started lavishing kisses along my neck and jaw.

“I’m still mad at you for giving away my dress you know.” I was finally able to blurt out. He sucked hard on my pulse in response.

“Then I suppose I’ll have to make it up to you.” I could feel him grinning against my neck and continued his assault on my throat. Little whines escaped me and it only spurned him on more.

“By the stars, you’re fantastic,” He breathed out, peppering kisses down lower. Shucking my collar open to kiss along my collarbone and shoulder. “So warm, so soft, and all mine.”

You’re so soft. Like a little kitten. A hoarse voiced doused me in cold water like a tidal wave sweeping me out to sea. Won’t you purr for me little kitten?

“My pearl,” Peter gazed at me. I had gone stiff in his arms and my breathing was shallow and rapid. “What’s wrong?”

“I--I--” My body was shaking. I closed my eyes. Get out! Get out of my head!

Peter said my name, gently pulling me down to rest against him. Hushing me and banishing my worries away. “What’s wrong, my pearl? What’s gotten you so worked up? Was I being too forceful?”

“I--” The words were caught in my throat. I didn’t know how to describe it. Where the voice had even come from. Thankfully I was saved from having to explain at the appearance of Wendy Darling once again. The only time I looked upon her in thanks.

“So sorry to intrude,” She said, her gaze sweeping between Peter and I. “I was worried after the both of you left camp. The boys said I shouldn’t follow unless I wanted to see a grisly sight but it only spurred me on more. I couldn’t bear the thought that she should be punished for something so silly as being angry over a dress. I see now though I needn’t worry about anything.”

“Indeed,” Peter said, “We just needed to have a private conversation. Isn’t that right, swordfish?”

He sighed when I didn’t speak. Still caught up too much in my own mind. “It’s been a stressful night.” He said. “My pet needs some rest now.”

“Of course,” Wendy sat a pile of blue velvet down on the ground. “I brought this back. I know you told me to keep it but I just couldn’t knowing it was never mine to take.”

“She’s so perfect it’s retching.” I muttered which made Peter chuckle.

“Would you like me to get rid of her?” Peter whispered. I nodded. “Anything my Lost Girl wants.”

I watched out of the corner of my eye as Peter’s shadow swooped down from the darkness and grabbed hold of Wendy Darling. She shrieked as she was suddenly lifted off the ground.

“What--” she kicked trying to get free, “What’s going on?”

“Apologies Wendy but you were only here for one reason and that reason is now fulfilled,” Peter squeezed me tighter. I gazed up at Wendy and saw something akin to disgust cross her perfect porcelain face. “What I need now though is a boy. One of your brothers will do quite nicely.”

“No!” Wendy screamed, “Not my brothers!” She became wild. Flailing about trying to get free but the shadow never stirred.

“Take her back.” Peter ordered. The shadow took off into the night with Wendy in her nightgown screaming after them like an angry bird flying through the sky.

“Better?” Peter asked after she had disappeared.

“Yes,” The world felt lighter. I let out a yawn and rested my head on Peter’s shoulder. “Tired though.”

“You should get some rest then.” Peter gently pushed me off his lap.

“Peter,” I grabbed his hand to keep him from leaving, “Can you stay with me tonight? Just until I fall asleep.”

He nodded and joined me inside my hut. I laid down and Peter laid down next to me. The both of us laid there stiff as boards staring up at the ceiling of my hut. Finally I couldn’t take it anymore and turned on my side, wrapping my arms around him and pulling him close. Peter let out a sigh of relief and held me, smoothing my hair and humming in my ear. “Sleep now, precious.”

I did. I slept soundly. No dreams to plague me. No cold to chill me. Just Peter’s arms and his voice lulling me into peace. When I woke up the next morning he was still there. Face inches from mine. The world was so still around us. It was as if the island was waiting for it’s master to awaken before it did. I closed my eyes again and tucked my head under his chin.

I felt the soft press of lips to the top of my head. “Good morning, sleep well?” Peter’s voice was groggy and hushed.

“Very well,” I yawned, “You didn’t have to stay you know.”

“I had a pretty girl in my arms, I wasn’t about to leave that for a camp full of rowdy boys.” He chuckled low in his chest so that it rumbled against my cheek.

“I’m glad you stayed. Reminded me that what happened last night was real. It wasn’t just a dream.”

“Does that make me a dream come true, swordfish?” he teased.

“You’re bloody nightmare most of the time, to be honest. But you have your moments. Like last night and this morning isn’t too bad either. But I think I’m gonna continue to be pissed about how your grand plan to make me admit my feelings was to make me jealous. I am still pretty angry about that even if it did end up working out for you.”

“Good thing I have an eternity to make it up to you. Now that Wendy is gone I can focus all my attention on you.”

“Oh gods no,” I groaned, “I’m never gonna get you to leave me alone now, aren’t I?”

“Afraid not, swordfish. But if you truly want me to leave you alone then I’ll be on my way.” He moved to sit up but I grabbed him and pulled him back down. “Now who’s the clingy one?”

“Shut up.” I kissed his cheek, “I want to stay in the bubble a little longer.”

Peter and I didn’t move from my camp all day. None of the boys came across us which was nice. Judging by what Wendy said last night it sounded like the boys thought Peter had taken me away to maim me. Maybe they were avoiding this part of the beach so they didn’t have to see the ghastly sight of my mutilated body. Or maybe it was Peter’s magic that kept anyone from coming near us. Either way it was nice to just have this part of the island to ourselves. No places to be and nothing or no one to worry about.

Peter changed my dress back but I had lost my appeal for it after Wendy wore it. It looked as if it had been made for her when she had it on. “Then I suppose I should make it more suiting to your tastes. Pretty as this may be it doesn’t very much reflect you.”

“That’s kinda the point. It’s meant to be pretty.”

“And you are beautiful. It should be equally as beautiful.” He stood up and unfurled the dress. In a flash of green light my blue dress was gone replaced with one of blood red. “Well go on, try it on.”

I took the dress and ducked into my hut, drawing the little curtain in front of the doorway for privacy. “You better not peak!”

“No fun at all,” he muttered but complied. The dress was velvet as before but the lace was gone as well as the puffed sleeves. The straps hung off my shoulders leaving them bare. The only problem was that the back of the dress now had buttons and I was finding it extremely difficult to get them buttoned by myself.

I struggled for a few more minutes trying to get them but my fingers slipped of them as I couldn’t see what I was doing nor could my hands reach all of them. With a small sigh I exited the hut. Peter waited on the other side and his face lit up as he took me in. “Why such a dour face? I thought you’d like it.”

“I can’t get the back buttoned up,” I turned around, “Could you…”

“Of course,” He started slipping the buttons into the eyelets. When he was halfway up he planted a kiss between my shoulder blades that made my insides melt. He finished buttoning it and turned me around. “Perfect,”

I smoothed my hands along the skirt. “Now all I’m missing is a crown.” I joked. “It really is beautiful, Peter. Thank you.”

“Trust me, this is all for my viewing pleasure.” His gaze raked me up and down. “Now maybe I can finish that dance we started long ago.”

“I’d like that.” We fell into our dance and I laughed as Peter spun me around along the sand.

As night fell I knew that we couldn’t stay here forever. The boys were most likely wondering where Peter was and sooner or later would grow restless without him. Still I did not wish to let him go. I watched him disappear back into the jungle and sat down with a dreamy sigh. It had been a good day.

Out in the distance I noticed a speck of black moving across the dark blue sky. Peter’s shadow had returned and it had someone with him. My body tensed. I almost forgot that Peter had sent it back to take one of Wendy Darling’s brothers. The boy in its grasp struggled and fought until the shadow lost its grip and let the boy go. Down the boy plunged from the sky and into the water below.

Well that was a shame. Hope he can swim. I watched as the body flailed about in the water for a few minutes as they tried to make their way to shore. It wasn’t like they were all that far out. They could easily swim back. Then again they might not be a strong swimmer and the mermaids are another thing to worry about. Did they really deserve to die because they got scared? The shadow was swooping around in the air above the boy not bothering to get close again.

Damn me and my bleeding heart. I whistled and I could see the shadow’s bright eyes turn to me. I waved it over and is sped towards the shore. I could never quite get used to Peter’s shadow. It was an extension of himself so I hoped maybe it would listen to me. “Go pick up the boy,” I told it, “I know you can hold him. You dropped him in the water on purpose.”

The shadow got right in my face trying to intimidate me. I wasn’t its master. “I said, go!” I pointed out to the sea, “Do you think Peter will be happy that you let his newest recruit drown? Now fetch him!”

The shadow circled around me like a tornado before darting off back across the sea and grabbing the struggling boy. It dropped him unceremoniously on the ground by my camp and with another scathing look zipped off to its hollow. The boy was sputtering and coughing next to me.

“Pull yourself together, kid,” I nudged him lightly with my foot, “It was just a little dunk in the ocean, you’re fine.”

“Easy for you to say,” he fell into another fit of coughing, “It wasn’t you.”

“Please, I’ve fallen overboard plenty of times and in much rougher seas. Your little drop is nothing to be falling apart over.” I grabbed the back of his collar and hauled him up. “Now come on, we don’t have all night.”

“Get off me!” He shoved me away. “I’m not going anywhere with you!”

“Fine, get hunted down by Lost Boys. See if I care. If you go in that jungle you’re gonna get lost and end up killing yourself which I don’t think you want.”

“I’m resourceful,”

“Maybe where you’re from but this is Neverland. It’s a different kind of dangerous. So, you can either come with me or die.”

“What if I just stay here on the beach? You look like you’re not supposed to be here either or else you’d be with these Lost Boys you were talking about. Or is it that you’re not welcome cause you’re a girl?”

“That’s not it. I just don’t want to stay in a camp full of a bunch of loud, idiot boys. Reminds me too much of a place I left. You could stay on the beach, it is a lot safer, but I don’t think that’s much of an option for you.”

“Why?”

“Because Peter can sense when someone has either entered or left the realm. He already knows you’re here and he’ll come looking for you. If you don’t want to be caught by him then the beach is too open. So again your options are be hunted down or try to hide in the jungle where you will surely die by walking through a thicket of dreamshade. Your choice.”

“Who are you?”

“Who I am is irrelevant. Who are you?”

“Baelfire.” He answered.

“Hm,” I sat down and patted the sand next to me. “Sit Baelfire. It’ll be a while yet before Peter comes this way. Tell me about yourself.”

“I don’t think I should. You’re obviously not to be trusted.”

“Why? Because I’m telling you that your plans to run and hide are pointless? I’m only telling you from personal experience. I spent months trying to get off this island and avoid its inhabitants but it’s useless. Okay? There’s only one way out and I don’t think Peter is going to give that to you.”

“Peter Pan?” Baelfire asked.

“So you’ve heard of him. Did your sister tell you his name? Your perfect Wendy Darling?”

“She’s not my sister. She’s a friend. One who let me into her home when I had none.” Baelfire stared into the fire I had lit. “I left in her brother’s stead.”

“Ugh, you’re as annoyingly perfect as her.” I rolled my eyes.

“And no, I already know who that demon is. I met him a long time ago.”

“You did? Was it back when he was still doing his Pied Piper routine? I was still on the ship during those days but he told me about what he did. Now that I mention it, Peter did talk of a boy he wanted from back in those days. The son of someone powerful named Rumplestiltskin, better known as the Dark One. That wouldn’t happen to be you, would it?”

Baelfire remained silent. His body was tense as if he was ready to jump up and run at a moment’s notice.

“So you are,” A small snarl crackled in my throat. The Dark One, I don’t remember ever meeting him but I know that my father had a run in with him. I think the Dark One had killed my mother. I know he was the one that cut off my father’s hand. At least the man did one thing worthwhile.

“You have a grudge against my father as well?” Baelfire asked.

“Pretty sure he killed my mother and cut off my father’s hand.” I told him, “One thing I should hate him for and the other I should thank him for.”

“Do I want to know which is which?”

“If it was me I would have sliced out his heart instead of just his hand.”

“Seems we both have complicated father issues.”

“At least your father didn’t trade you away for freedom with absolutely no remorse.”

“You’d be surprised.” Baelfire gazed at me, “Papa chose his power over me and left me to fend for myself in a new world. That’s when the Darling’s took me in. So I can relate better than you think.”

“Fathers are the worst aren’t they?”

“They are.”

We shared a knowing look. It was the look of a pair of people who shared trauma. Betrayed by those that were supposed to protect us. Left to our own devices in a world we knew nothing about. It was uncomfortable how alike we were.

“I am going to regret this,” I huffed, “But you can stay here with me at my camp. It’s safe and the Lost Boys don’t come here. Peter will be by but you won’t have to go with him if I talk to him first. I promise.”

“Why the sudden charity?”

“Because you’ve obviously gone through a lot of shit and I’m in a really good mood. Tomorrow you’ll be on your own but the jungle is much less hazardous to trek in the day. You said you were resourceful and I believe you. You’ll find a place to hunker down just fine.”

“Thank you,”

“Don’t thank me yet. Peter still knows you’re here and I said I may be able to talk to him but that’s only considering that he’s in a good mood as well.”

“How right you are, Lost Girl.” Peter strode out of the jungle with the Lost Boys behind him. “But I’m afraid you miscalculated.”

“Peter--” I said but he held up a hand silencing me.

“I’ve waited a long time for this one,” Peter grinned devilishly, “You’re coming back to camp, Baelfire.”

“Over my dead body.” Baelfire spat at him.

“Boys! Enough!” I stood up between them. “I know you two have history but this isn’t a public affair. Send the boys back to camp.”

“You don’t give the order around here, spitfire.” he leaned in closer to whisper in my ear, “I think our day together made you forget who rules this island.”

“Well if you want me to keep being sweet on you then you’ll do as I say. Or else you’ll never get a taste of these lips or anything else ever again.” I whispered back.

“Big threats coming from the girl who practically begged me not to leave barely an hour ago.”

“But I can hold a grudge and I have no problem being by myself for days on end. You know that much.” I retorted. “Choose wisely, my dear.”

“Nasty girl,” Peter chuckled, “Seems you’ve cornered me this time.”

Peter stepped away and turned to the boys, ordering them to return to camp. Peter’s second in command was the only one who stayed. As easily as it was for Peter to get rid of the other boys it was much harder for him to excuse someone as loyal as Felix so I didn’t push it.

“He’s coming back to camp.” Peter said.

“No, he’s not. Not tonight at least.”

“Careful what you say, spitfire. My leniency only goes so far.”

“Twenty four hours,” I said, “You give him a twenty four hour period in which he can run and hide and only then can you and your boys go hunting for him. If you capture him then you can do what you want with him. Sound fair enough?”

“Now hold on!” Baelfire tried to cut in.

“Baelfire, I wouldn’t try that if I were you.” Peter glared at the boy, “So far her offer is sounding appealing and it is much more than you deserve. Are you trying to talk me out of it?”

Baelfire retreated, knowing it was pointless to try and argue for more. “Smart move,” Peter turned back to me, “This will be a new game for me and my boys to play. A few rules so everything’s fair. Rule number one, you can’t cover for him. He’s a big boy, he doesn’t need to go hiding behind your skirts. That also includes showing him around the island or giving him ideas on where to hide. Rule number two, if we do find him then you can’t object to any way that I treat him after he’s with us. Sound reasonable?”

“About as reasonable as I’m gonna get with you.” I sighed. “Fine.”

Peter nodded to Felix and the tall boy strode back into the jungle. Peter glanced at Baelfire then back at me. He looped an arm around me and steered me further away. “You’re coming back to camp with me.”

“What? Why?”

“I don’t want him near you tonight. You’re staying with me.”

“He’s not gonna hurt me. I can take care of myself just fine, remember?” I patted the sword at my hip.

“Don’t care. You’re staying with me.” He growled, and tried to drag me with him.

“Hold on,” I stayed rooted in my spot, “Is it at all possible that you’re jealous?”

“What are you talking about? Of all the ridiculous--”

“You are! You’re not worried about Baelfire hurting me. You’re worried that he might like me.”

“I am not jealous. I don’t get jealous. I know there’s no way you’d choose an unworthy worm like him over me.”

“Spoken like a true jealous boy.”

“I am not!” Peter seethed. “I just don’t like the idea of him being so close to you while you’re sleeping. He may not be much but that doesn’t mean he won’t try to--”

“Peter,” I touched his face, “Look at me. Everything will be fine. You have nothing to worry about and you certainly have nothing to be jealous over. Understand?

“If that were true then why were you being so kind to him then? You’ve never been close to any of the Lost Boys before. Why this stranger?”

“I wouldn’t exactly call it kind. I’m just empathetic. We have shared trauma.” I shrugged, “Betrayed by horrible fathers and all that. I see a little bit of myself in him.”

“When you say stuff like that it doesn’t exactly put me at ease.”

“Does it make you feel better if I say that I don’t find him attractive at all? He may be cute in a boyish way but you are the only one I’d ever let kiss me. Only one I’d ever want to touch me. The only one I know that can make me buckle at the knees with a single smile.”

“Damn right,” He pressed his forehead to mine. “I trust you. If he does try anything though I’m not playing any games and will kill him on sight.”

“It won’t end like that but I appreciate the sentiment.” I walked back over to my camp. Baelfire sat tracing his finger in the sand. “Twenty four hours, Peter. Starting now. No touching him until then.”

“Yes, yes,” Peter rolled his eyes. He looked at Baelfire. “Be glad my Lost Girl was here. Your fate could have ended quite differently.”

Baelfire scowled.

“And as for you,” Peter held me firm and kissed me hard. I forgot myself for a moment and let him continue on devouring me before he pulled back. A smug smile on his face, “Good night, spitfire.”

“Yeah, good night.” I watched him leave and turned around to face my audience.

“So when you said that you could talk to Pan…”

“It’s a recent development.” That was all the more that was said on the issue. We stayed up for a while longer as I gave him a few tips about trekking the jungle. The only time I’d be allowed to do so after tonight. Stay away from dreamshade thickets, don’t eat the blue colored berries, there is a section of the jungle that is just as dangerous in the day that is at night. Make sure you do not get caught stuck there or else it will be your demise.

Finally my eyes were growing heavy and I knew Baelfire needed to get to sleep too. He would need his energy for tomorrow when Peter’s game began.

An old song from long ago quietly echoing in my head. A stubbly smile gleaming down on me as he sang.

My young love said to me, ‘My mother won't mind and my father won't slight you for your lack of kind. And she stepped away from me, and this she did say, ‘It will not be long love till our wedding day.’

It was no surprise that I woke up crying.

---

(Previous) (Next)

#peter pan ouat #ouat peter pan #ouat #neverland #peter pan imagine #peter pan x reader

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gaegalsyd · 3 years

Text

See Through Me

Pairing: KamilahxMC

Summary: basically it's chaotic Lily, with lovesick Kamilah, then clueless Amy

Note: Set between BB1 and BB2.... and I did say that I would write after I'm settled with my classes but this was in my drafts so I just finished it. (just another way of saying I'm still not settle with my classes)

It has been a few weeks after the events with Vega in the cabin of Adrian upstate, despite that, Kamilah is still feeling some darkness waiting to emerge and cause havoc to the peace that they have. Kamilah is in her private elevator towards her office in Ahmanet financial to check some files before meeting with Lily to continue with their training. Lily may have moved in the shadow den and is also training with the vampires there, but the two of them continued their training in the studio in the office building of Kamilah. She may have grown a little fond of the fool but of course there are no hesitance in making sure that Lily becomes a strong vampire and she have made it her responsibility to look over her protégé.

And when she came out of the elevator, she sensed someone in her office, and the fact that it’s already late at night and all of her assistants and employees have already left the building she immediately withdrew her daggers to kill anyone whoever came into her office. Being as old as she is, she learned long ago that she should be ready with anything that can happen, which means she never go anywhere without her deadly jeweled dagger. When she got closer to the door with her fighting stance, she realized that it’s a vampire who is in her office but after hearing some weird noises-which is apparently a laugh- she knew that it’s Lily.

“What the hell are you doing in my office when you are supposed to be in the training studio?” she questioned with her daggers still on her hands.

Lily simply snorted without removing her eyes on her computer “Dude, the security of your computer is so shitty that a baby can get in here any moment.”

The older vampire knew that there’s no point talking to Lily when she’s transfixed in a computer. So, she just kept her blades and crossed her arms. “I assume you already modified some of the security settings” she said in an unimpressed tone.

“you’re welcome” after she finally looked at her and then the fool stood up and gave her a dramatic bow. But Lily immediately realized that she is not happy.

It’s not that she is not grateful with what Lily did but she is still in the process of trusting other people than Adrian. And after thousands of years of experiencing betrayal from different people, it’s just hard for her to just open up. Yes, she has gotten closer and got herself to trust the mortal best friend of Lily, Amy but that’s different for her. And she now considers Lily and Jax her friends though she would not say that out loud, that does not excuse what Lily did going through her computer.

“shit shit, I’m sorry Kamilah” Lily pleaded her “I swear I came here early and you were not in your office and when I sat in your chair, I saw the software and I…” the younger slumped and must have really felt sorry for her actions.

The older vampire just sighed and started walking to the door but before she opened it, she looked back to Lily “I’m expecting you to be in the studio in 5 minutes” she said with a devilish smirk on her face.

“damn, I’m getting my ass kicked so bad”

Once both of them are in their training outfit, they did separate warmups before having a hand to hand combat. Kamilah is not the kind of teacher that the students will love, instead she is strict but patient when it comes to training her proteges.

“You know, I’m actually torn if you should be master Shifu or Tigress” Lily said before they have their fighting stance. “I asked my gal Amy about that earlier and she said you’re definitely Tigress” Lily continued.

Kamilah did not know and did not care in whatever Lily was talking about but when she heard the name of her mortal, her interest has been piqued, however it was covered by her stoic façade. “I don’t know what that is, and your right leg is positioned wrong”

Lily did not respond or make any more comments throughout the training. And Kamilah felt a relief without those silly comments that the young vampire always has, perhaps she still feels guilty about what happened in her office. At the end of their training, Lily was lying on the floor with her arms and legs spread out and her eyes wide open.

“What the hell happened to you?” Kamilah asked but in her mind, she thought that younger vampires are so bloody dramatic. “you kicked me to a wall so many times I lost track, and I can’t even complain because this is like your revenge” Lily replied while trying to sit “and my girl is right you definitely are Tigress” she added. Kamilah would not have cared why she is being told to be like a female tiger though she remembered that Lily mentioned something about her mortal saying she is a tigress, she cannot bring herself to ask Lily about the thoughts of Amy.

To say that she wishes to know the thoughts of the mortal is an understatement, there are many questions in her mind about Amy. Does she think of the old vampire as often as she thinks of her? does she also feel like the world around them vanishes when it’s just the two of them in a room? does she know that the thought of her brings Kamilah to peace and comfort?

“Will you kill me if I ask if we can take a selfie together?” Lily asked while gathering her things.

“A what?” Kamilah knows that languages are dynamic but this woman with her is a chaotic dumbass that sometimes she wonders if she is just making up words.

“A picture together, Imma send it to Amy later” Lily said nonchalantly while taking out her phone.

She just huffed and nodded but if it was somebody else that asked her, she would’ve stabbed them already. She simply isn’t interested in taking pictures but the back of her mind tells her that she’s doing it because she wishes that her Amy would see her even in just a picture. Kamilah may not admit it but she knows that after a few weeks of knowing and spending time with Amy, she’s already acting like a lovesick fool as if her day will not be complete without the girl being a part of it. Even as small as hearing her name, seeing her across the conference table, smelling her scent, and feeling her presence is enough to make lighten up her mood.

Lily moved closer to her and took the goddamn picture. “alright and sent!” Lily said in a very enthusiastic way. “Why are you so energetic” Kamilah sighed and she really did not know how Lily gets this energy. “I think I am energetic too especially for someone who got her ass kicked a lot of times” the young vampire murmured while preparing to go out of the building “Adios Sayeed! Fuck you very much for the body pain” Lily as she walked away and the fool had the audacity to raise her middle finger at her and then running away like a scared child after she glared at her.

She made her way to her private suite within the building to freshen up as she plans to visit her mortal. Even though she is certain that Amy is not yet sleeping- she may have memorized the schedule of the girl- she sent her a message, to inform the young woman of her visit.

“The company is very welcome” Amy replied with an “emoji” that she still refuses to use and a series of hearts.

On the way to the young mortal’s apartment, the mind of the vampire was just around how she misses her and how she wants to hold her forever. Love, crossed her mind many times whenever these kinds of thoughts invade her mind and infect her heart. And her mind says that she is not yet ready for such attachments, but her heart says otherwise, the stupid thing on her chest just knows that Amy is the one that she has been unconsciously looking for. Like being blind for two thousand years and finally seeing such beautiful colors for the first time, all this time she was blindly looking for something and when her heart found it, her too smart brain just won’t allow it.

And when she reached and entered the apartment, warmth filled her body and her eyes felt moist as if tears are ready to come down her face, that will go through her lips as it formed an endearing smile reserved for the woman smiling back at her. Amy stood up to welcome her with a light embrace and she knew, she’s home, and that her mind has surrendered to her heart completely and irrevocably.

“Sorry for the late visit” she said sheepishly while sitting down in the living room which was quickly responded by Amy with a smile “I did say that the company is welcome” that eased her, something about this woman just comforts her. “How’s training with Lil?” the girl asked while taking her right arm to loop it around her body. She recalled and told her the events that happened a few hours ago that made the girl in her arms giggle.

“She did send me the selfie” Amy said.

So, it really was a word and not a thing that Lily just randomly came up with she thought “I’m certain I don’t need to ask to know if I look presentable in the picture” She said too confidently when the truth is, she just wants to hear the girl say something about her. Apparently falling in love is making her greedy of attention.

“Why does that sound like you just want me to say that you are absolutely gorgeous especially when it’s after being a badass” the young girl said while laughing which made the older woman raise her brows, then she added “but kidding aside, you always look amazing”

Kamilah hid the giddiness she felt on her body by kissing the crown of the younger woman’s head “I suppose that’s just how it is” which made Amy laugh again who stood up and took her hand then lead her to the room “You need sleep, you’re getting way ahead of yourself” and now it’s the vampire’s turn to laugh but she just followed her to the room where they settled. This was not the first time that she will be sleeping over so she already knew which clothes she can borrow and which side she would sleep in. Moments like this are treasured for Kamilah because they are able to build a foundation for their relationship, or whatever this is, with connection and not just sex. She loves the part where they act on their desires and lusts, but the nights where they just lay in bed and talk are something she really adore. To understand and be understood is something her soul has been longing for.

And as they lay together, holding each other close, she thought of all the times where she fell in love to someone, and how it was all nothing compared to what she is feeling for the woman beside her. “Thank you” Kamilah whispered randomly, which Amy still responded sleepily to “you’re welcome to stay here any time”

Little did the mortal know that she is so grateful for her bringing light to the ancient vampire’s life, for looking at her and not seeing a monster, for letting her experience all the best feelings she never thought she would feel, and for making her try to be a person worthy of her love.

It has only been weeks, and she is already in too deep.

Only been weeks, and she already swear to protect Amy with her life.

She’s been existing for two thousand years, but it has only been weeks since she has truly lived.

#kamilah sayeed #kamilah x mc #kamilah sayeed fanfics #BB #choices stories you play #bloodbound fanfiction #choices kamilah

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willow-salix · 3 years

Text

Ok, so, here's the next chapter.

It's a wee bit weird, so feel free to skip most of it, it won't affect the story at all. It's just there, doing it's thing.

Here's the first part, you can follow the link to read the rest of dip out here if you don't want to read a full ritual.

---

“What do you mean Lin is in the hospital?” Selene gasped, unable to believe her ears. “I just saw him no more than...” she glanced at her phone, “four hours ago.”

“Yeah, well, that was before the arrow hit him,” Vera snorted, tugging at Selene’s dress as she unzipped it and yanked it down.

“Arrow? What arrow?” Selene asked, her voice muffled as a new dress was slung over her head.

“The one that hit him in the leg,” Alegra answered as she bustled past with an armful of candles, clearly heading outside to the circle clearing.

“What the hell was he doing to get shot in the leg?”

“Teaching an archery class, it appears someone had very bad aim. One legged Linden strikes again,” Alegra replied.

“That name is because he is the master of Tree pose, not because he only has one working leg!" Selene argued, starting to feel more than a little stressed. “Who the hell is going to be my Priest if Linden is out of action? There’s no one else I’ve worked with enough to even have a connection with let alone one enough to raise the power needed for the circle.”

“Don’t you worry your head about it,” Vera snapped, tugging violently on Selene’s arm, yanking her down in a chair where she sat as still as a statue, allowing the old lady to attack her hair. “Tanzi said she had a plan, so give her some time to see what she can pull out of her arse before you start your panic flapping.”

“But there isn’t anyone here,” Selene argued. “Why don’t we let Tanzi take my place, she’s worked with far more people than I have, she'd know how to work their energy better than me.”

“Because it’s your role, that’s why.”

“But I- OW!”

Vera pulled the brush back like she might donk Selene on the head again.

“We’ll have none of that negativity, my girl, I taught you better than that. You know negativity before a circle is a no no. Just trust the Gods, trust they have a plan and a reason.”

“Linden won’t like that he was part of whatever plan they supposedly had,” Selene grumbled but stayed still as Vera slapped a flower crown on her head and set to work curling her hair around it.

"Well, it's not like he has a say in it now, is it?"

-x-

“I feel ridiculous,” John complained as Tanzi straightened his tunic, giving him the once over.

“Oh hush, you look gorgeous, she’s gonna shit a brick when she sees you.”

“I swear, if anyone even dares to take a picture I’ll make sure that they never get an internet connection again for the rest of their lives,” John threatened, wincing as Tanzi grabbed a comb and a pair of scissors to start attacking his hair. "Are you sure this is completely necessary?"

"Oh yes, very necessary, you have to dress the part, besides, it'll be worth it, you'll thank me later," Tanzi grinned admiring her handiwork. "That bitch is gonna send me a gift basket for making you look so good."

"And there's really no one else to do it?"

"No, I already told you. Linden is out of action and it's been years since she's worked with anyone close enough to lead a ritual with them. You're bonded to her, you're basically her familiar, you're the perfect solution. Don't worry, it'll be fine, believe it or not she does know what she's doing, she won't let you mess up."

"I never thought for a moment that she wouldn't be completely capable and in control, she always is. She may seem flighty but-"

"You don't have to tell me," Tanzi interrupted, patting his shoulder. "I've known her since she entered the craft, in fact I think tonight will be quite eye opening for you. You've never seen her in a ritual before, have you?"

John shook his head.

"Then you're in for a treat, she's a natural performer as well as a talented witch."

"My wife with a penchant for dramatic performance? Never."

Tanzi sniggered under her breath but declined to comment, focusing her attention on the back of his head as she worked.

"Are you sure this is all I have to do?" John asked, unfolding the instructions he'd been given and reading them through again. They seemed simple enough, follow Selene, stand where he was told, do as she directed and only speak when she spoke to him first or asked him a question, it sounded like a standard social event to him.

"Yep. You've got your part of the performance there too, just make sure you give Sel her part."

"Tell me again why we aren't warning her about this?"

"Because I want to see the look on her face," Tanzi shrugged. "I'm old, I have to get my kicks somewhere."

John snorted out a laugh. "Don't let my Grandma hear you complaining about being old, she gets very defensive when anyone under sixty even dares to mention they have a wrinkle."

"Good job I'm over 60 then," Tanzi answered distractedly, tugging at the side of his head as she tried to wrestle his hair into submission. He resisted the urge to flinch and instead focused on her words.

"Sure you are, and I'm planning a career change to become a game show host." The woman didn't look any older than he did, let alone old enough to appease his Grandma.

Tanzi grinned evilly. "Look me up if you don't believe me, but sit still while you do it."

For want of anything better to do John pulled out his phone and did as he was told. It took him less than two minutes and a tiny bit of government file delving to find the truth.

"There's only one Tanzanite Summerland, who is apparently seventy-eight years old."

Tanzi hummed a little sound of acknowledgement as she worked on his parting, trying to force his hair to lay in a way that didn't come naturally to it. "Why won't your bloody hair stay where I put it?"

"Selene asks the same thing, I gave up trying to change it years ago and just work with it, but don't think I don't know you're trying to change the subject," he retorted, on to her game.

She huffed, giving up on the parting, deciding to work with what she had, smoothing it back into place instead. "I'm mated to a full bloodied Shifter, Nikos is 297."

"He's what?" John spluttered, turning to look at her. "That's impossible."

"Dude, you turn into a cat, nothing should be impossible to you," she drawled, her tone implying she thought he was being particularly dense as she grabbed his head and turned it to face forward. "Avery is 413."

"Avery too? What does he turn into?"

"Nothing, though I'm sure he'd love to embrace the bat cliché if he could."

"Bat? Why would h-"

Tanzi raised her curved fingers to her mouth in a crude depiction of fangs and hissed.

John's eyes widened.

Tanzi nodded. "Yeah, and he's still not matured into a fully functioning adult, he'd be lost without my sister, I swear. Now, you've got your words, I've done the best I can with your hair, I think you're good to go."

"What? No! I've got questions, you can't just dump this kind of information on me and expect me to just accept it. I need answers."

"No time my friend, chop chop, it's getting dark, move your arse, your wife's waiting."

-x-

"Seriously?"

Selene couldn't have been more shocked if Tanzi had produced a monkey from her pocket to slap her around the face.

"You think John is the solution to our problem? How? Why? He hates people!"

"Oh hush," Tanzi soothed, brushing away her concerns. "He'll be fine, it's only a little ritual-"

"Little? There's a hundred and fifty people out there joining in!"

"In at the deep end," Tanzi shrugged, "he married a witch, he's gotta learn sometime. He said he'd do it."

"But why him? Is there really no one else?" Selene fretted, more worried about her husband's social anxiety than the ritual itself. "Can't you do it?"

"Nope, you're our poster child, you're the one they came to see, we can't let them down. He's the only person here with a connection to you that won't dull your energy. You know a Priest is supposed to enhance it, not drain it."

Selene wanted to argue, but her friend did make a good point, not that she wanted to admit it. She had worked with John in little ways before, working on his intuition and raising his personal power quicker and easier before each shift he attempted; it really wouldn’t be that much different for him, you know, apart from all the people staring at him.

“Fuck it, we’ll make it work,” Selene huffed. “Did you at least prepare him, even a little? Gods, he’s never going to leave my side again after this. I walked away for an hour and he was drafted.”

“Of course I prepared him, I gave him a script and everything,” Tanzi promised her, crossing her heart.

“Which script?” Selene asked suspiciously.

“This one,” Tanzi grinned, handing Selene a book of Shadows already opened on a page.

Selene quickly scanned through the pages, recognising the revised ritual instantly.

“I’m going to make a few adjustments,” she stated in a tone that allowed no arguments.

“Wouldn’t expect anything less,” Tanzi assured her, knowing that she had won that round.

“Fine,” Selene sighed, checking the time. “Then I guess I'm ready.”

“Good, let’s go,” Tanzi said, draping a cloak around Selene’s shoulders.

“Hang on, where’s my chapstick?”

“Do you really need it?” Tanzi asked, desperate to get the other woman moving.

“Yes, I do, especially as I have a lot of foreheads to kiss out there,” Selene answered, already scrabbling through her bag looking for the elusive little tube.

“Where the hell is the bloody...Oh, thanks, babe,” she said in response to the chapstick that appeared in her line of sight, recognising the ring on the hand that held it. She took the stick and slicked on a generous amount, making fish out of water noises at her reflection in the mirror before turning around. She stumbled, reaching blindly behind her for something to hold on to, because praise be to every single deity for the God that was her husband.

“Holy shitballs Batman!”

“See, I look stupid!” John huffed, his cheeks burning. He should never have let himself be talked into it.

“Rubbish,” Tanzi scoffed.

“Wow,” Selene breathed, seemingly unable to form any full sentences.

“Told you she’d like it,” Tanzi grinned.

“What...I mean...how the...my Gods,” she breathed, unable to tear her eyes away from the pure gorgeousness she was seeing. Her eyes kept darting to a new part of him, there was simply too much beauty to take in in one go. “Wow.”

“Yes, I am a miracle worker, I know this,” Tanzi preened, brushing a non-existent speck of dirt off his shoulder.

“Is that a wig?”

“Clip in extensions.”

“My Gods,” Selene whispered again. John’s hair was now brushing his shoulders, falling in shimmering red waves that perfectly matched his own colour. His usual side parting had been maintained, the extensions having obviously been trimmed to blend in with his forelock, which somehow made it look less alien on him. Her fingers itched to run through all that silky looking hair and she actually reached out a hand but Tanzi slapped it down.

He was dressed in a black shirt with loose fitted sleeves that laced up across his chest under a dark forest green tunic. His legs were encased in black leggings and dark brown lace up boots that came up to just below his knees. He had a black cloak over one arm and a metal headpiece that encircled his head looking rather like a crown. But it was the pointed ears that peeked out from his hair that really pulled the whole look together.

“Fuck...me,” Selene was absolutely stunned, taking a few steps towards him, wanting to be close, to touch, to kiss...

“Later,” Tanzi ordered. “You two have to get moving, I can hear the drums already.”

Snapping out of her dazzling husband induced daze, Selene grabbed a sword that had been laying on a table in one hand and reached for his hand with the other.

If John felt nervous dressed in his ridiculous costume, it was nothing compared to how Selene seemed to be feeling. He could feel her hand shaking in his and hear the way she kept sucking in a deep breath before letting it out slowly.

He wanted to say something to make it better, but knew that in times like these words made very little difference to her. Instead he repositioned her hand in his, linking their fingers and giving it a comforting squeeze. She looked different tonight, he’d seen her in ritual robes before, but this time she had replaced the dramatic makeup she had been wearing earlier with something much more subtle. She looked younger, less sure of herself, with pale golden eyeshadow, pink blushed cheeks and no lipstick, maybe that was part of the reason that she looked a little less confident than normal.

They waited just outside the perimeter that had been marked out for the circle, around which a ring of people stood, others seated in little huddles on blankets, obviously not part of the actual ritual but wishing to observe. The whole clearing was lit up by the crackling flames of a large bonfire, which warmed the chill air to a more pleasant temperature now that the sun had gone down, taking its heat with it.

The drumming that had been growing louder with each passing moment reached its crescendo and abruptly stopped. He felt her stiffen and heard her inhale deeply once more, holding it for the count of five before letting it out slowly.

“Show time,” she whispered, more to herself than to him. “Just follow my lead, babe, I won’t let you down.”

“I know,” he assured her, bringing her hand to his lips and placing a gentle kiss on her knuckles.

Link to Ao3

#john tracy #selene tempest #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds 2015 #witch #thunderbirds fanfiction #paranormalromance #thunderbirdsarego

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mr-walkingrainbow · 3 years

Note

can we get a super fluffy bad weather abimel fic? love your stuff btw <3

Aww thank you!!!

BAD WEATHER HERE WE GO!

I was very very conflicted, because y’all know I live for thunder angst. But because of my simping ass their is distinctively two different Columns in the Abimel prompt list

Thunder angst

And Bad weather

So as much as I want to turn this into thunder angst

I’m just gonna write bad weather

So hear y’a go!

“Goodbye my love!” Abigael calls out to the Vera Vaughn house.

“Bye Cariño!” Mel replies sweetly.

“Ugh! You guys are just couple goals!!!” Maggie groans from where she lays sprawled on the couch.

Macy doesn’t acknowledge the question, too buried in her book in the corner.

Mel raises an eyebrow, “Thanks Mags, but you know you could be couple goals as well, if you just finally told Jordan your feelings?”

“Hushhh hush hushhyyy,” the empath half silences half groans, “I don’t wanna focus on him, I wanna focus on how adorable you and Abigael are”.

“AGHHHHHHHH!”

The loud scream pierces the house, everyone jolts, minus Macy. Who really, is just that into her book.

“CARIÑO?!?” Mel yells, jumping to her feet and racing to the door.

Abigael is still standing in the doorway, back facing the Latina.

“Abby?” She prods quieter.

Slowly, the hybrid turns to Mel.

A small puff of air escapes the lesbians chest, as the site of red angry dots coating half of Abigaels body.

“Mel,” Abby speaks in a lofty robotic way, “Mel it’s snowing.”

And that’s how we lead to her current situation.

A fires crackling, the thermostat practically melting, and Abbys bundled up in every single blanket they own, yet she’s still shivering like a popsicle.

“B-b-blood-dy H-hell.” Her teeth chatter violently as she curses.

“I’m so sorry Mi amor! I should have checked the temperature.” Mel apologizes once again.

“What’s wrong with her?” Maggie questions nervously, “She was only outside for a second? She shouldn’t be this affected.”

Abby tries to explain, but her teeth clank to much to even get a sentence out.

Mel places a warm hand on her forehead, stroking it just how she likes it.

“S’ok Cariño,” she assures, “I’ll explain. You just focus on getting warmed up.”

Abby nods, hesitating in a way that causes her to gaze to linger.

It’s a bit gratifying, how she can tell exactly what’s she’s thinking.

If the hybrid could, she’d be blushing lightly. But since she was so cold, it was impossible. But Mel can tell by the angle of her eyebrows.

And she understands.

She nods assuringly, and makes sure to keep stroking the laters forehead.

Abby mumbles something gratefully, sinking into the touch.

Maggie looks at them, knowing something passed between them without her knowledge.

And Mel isn’t sure if it’s because of her empath powers, or just her natural sisterly instinct, but slowly, her sister nods along too. A smile gracing her appearance.

“So basically, the cold effects Abby different then us.” The Latina spoke, drawing the subject away from her girlfriends silent implication.

Maggie’s eyebrows furrowed, “We said that before, but why is it?”

“We’ll, she’s part demon.”

“Yeah but so is Macy, and she doesn’t get this severe?” The brunette gestured towards their sister, who peeked up curiously at her name.

Mel took the moment to roll her eyes at the eldest, who somehow only just was pulled from her trance.

“Well Macy isn’t the same as Abby.”

-“Wait, your comparing me to Abby?” Macy interrupted, eyes trailing, and widening, once she saw the frozen girl, “Wow?! What happened?”

“Really Mace?” Maggie glared slightly, hands on hips.

The eldest waved her hands in the air, “What?! I’m in the middle of a deeply interesting book about the physics of life and gravity and how-“

-“A-And I’m Al-r-ready b-bored!” Abby coughed from her cocoon of blankets. Lapsing into another bought of violent shivers.

Mel quickly turned, “Shhh, shh, it’s ok, just go back to sleep. Just keep getting warm and cozy.”

She pressed another kiss to her girlfriends brow, wrapping her more efficient in her little ‘Snuggle coon’.

Abby relaxed only when Mel continued her comforting movements on her forehead.

Macy glared fiercely, not happy with her book being so blatantly insulted, “Remind me why we can’t just let her freeze.”

“Because if you even attempted to I would tackle you to the floor with no hesitation,” Mel stated with emphasis, “No ones allowed to hurt Abigael.”

“Besides the fact that she looks like a Lil Puppy Overlord all wrapped in those blankets!” Maggie (of course) cooed.

The eldest looked miffed, “Yeah you need to get your eyes checked Mags.”

Mel started to growl, which quickly got Macy to shut up.

“As I was saying, Abigaels physically, and hereditarily, part demon. Macy is a witch, but with demon blood. Theirs a different. Especially in how they react to things.”

“But how does that make her so perceptible to the cold?” Macy questioned.

“We’ll her temperature is naturally higher the ours, yours is a tad bit higher due to your blood, but not nearly as high as hers.”

Maggie looked confused, “But wouldn’t that just protect her from the cold more?”

“Hypothetically, yes,” Mel paused, “Think of her as a flame. Now picture an Ice cube. You wouldn’t. Put an ice cube directly in the fire or something hot, because although really cold, it’s much more consequential. Now the flame, ergo Abby, is really hot, in more ways then one.”

“Yeah, yeah,” her younger sister smirked, “We get it, you simp the ground she walks on.”

“Mags!” The Latina squeaked, blushing madly, “Enough of that! Anyway, she’s literally hot. So slowly, in a gradual sense, she’d last longer then most people. But it’s when it’s abrupt cold, like snow hitting her, or unprepared weather, that effects her more drastically then us. Because her temperature doesn’t regulate like ours do.”

Her sisters took the information in, nodding accordingly.

“Now, I love y’all, but I have to tend to the popsicle I’m calling my girlfriend.”

Macy eagerly left the room, while Maggie brightened, “Ooh! I’ll make her Moms power cocoa! Y’a know, the one she’d make just when-“

-“We turned from cheerfully numb to painfully cold,” Mel finished with a bittersweet smile. The cocoa always seemed to infuse all the love a mother felt for her daughter, “Yeah, Abigael would love that. Thanks Mags.”

“No problem!”

Her attention immediately shifted back to her girlfriend, who was practically being swallowed by all the blankets around her.

“Ok, it’s just me now, so you can stop pretending to be asleep.” Mel whispered.

Abby peeked open an eye, “H-how’d you know?”

She smiled warmly, “Oh Cariño, I know you my love. I know that your not truly asleep until your breathings light, and your eyebrows lax. …. Also you’d twitch every time I’d stop touching your forehead.”

Abigael blushed at the last part, glancing anywhere but Mel.

“Hey, look at that,” Mel commented ruefully, “At least you can blush again.”

The hybrid groaned, letting herself sink into the blankets in her embarrassment.

“Aww, mi amor,” she cooed lightly, pulling back the blankets till she could see her girlfriends face again, “How are you feeling Cariño?”

“Like a B-bloody popsicle.” Abby grumbled.

“We’ll fortunately your Body temp seems to be doing better, your teeth aren’t chattering as much and your starting to gain some color back.” She noted dutifully.

Abby groaned again, overall looking miserable.

“I hate snow:” she complained bitterly.

“I’m sorry,” Mel apologized earnestly, “Do you want some snuggles?”

Abigael brightened, “Oh god yes your like a mini furnace, but Mel..?”

The Latina smiled, “Don’t worry, I’ll still stroke your forehead. Y’a know it’s ok to ask? I’m not gonna hold it against you?”

Abby nodded, although she still didn’t look quite convinced.

Mel understand, although it hurt her, Ratcesca had infused into the girl that asking for things she liked was foolish and weak.

She was their to slowly disband all the toxic knowledge that monster had unforced in her.

The lesbian quickly braced herself for what was going to feel like the heart of a volcano, before shifting under the heaps of blankets.

Nevertheless, she’d jump into a real one if it meant her girlfriend would feel better.

Mel wrapped her arms around Abigael, spooning her as much as she could.

“Better?” She questioned softly?

“Almost.” Abby whispered back.

She understood immediately, and started to caress the lattera crown, smiling when the other started to purr in contempt.

“Oh I love you Melanie.” The hybrid murmured blissfully, “Even if I’m freezing my blood out.”

“We’ll I for once love you too,” Mel replied warmly, “Even if I’m about to die of heat stroke.”

“Oh shut it!” The later smiled fondly.

The lesbian just laughed, loosing herself in the repetitive motions.

About five minutes later, Maggie came in with her moms power cocoa.

She smiled at the scene before her.

Wrapped in about fifty blankets, Mel and Abigael were snuggled in the heart of it. Both peacefully sleeping entwined.

“Oh,” she cooed adoringly at the cuteness, placing the cocoa mugs nearby, “Like I said. Total couple goals.”

#Charmed #Charmed Reboot #Charmed CW #abimel #mel x abigael #abigael caine #abigael x mel #Mel Vera #macy vaughn #Harry greenwood #Maggie Vera #Hacy #Harry x Macy #Macy x Harry #Joggie #Jordan x Maggie #Maggie x Jordan #OverWitch #overwitch

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anonymousbaev · 3 years

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Hi! I just found your account and really enjoy your content!!! Its so hard to find ppl writing MM headcanons anymore so I'm glad to see you writing!

I was wondering if you could write about the RFA taking care of the reader who has period cramps? I often suffer from the cramps, so I wonder how will RFA deal with it?

It's fine if you can't and keep up the good work! ❤

RFA+Minor Trio reaction to Mc suffering from period cramps

Thank you so much for the request! I’m so sorry for the late reply. I added in the Minor Trio to make up for it. I love this idea, I know how painful period cramps can get... T.T I hope I wrote this the way you wanted it! Enjoy! ʚ(*´꒳`*)ɞ

!!WARNING!!

!!Profanity and slight mention of NSFW!!

☆ Yoosung ☆

☆ Yoosung comes back to his shared apartment with you after his last class. He bought your favorite [Insert your favorite dessert] from Jaehee’s café on his way home.

☆ He was proud of himself when he thought about how excited you would be to dig in to your favorite sweet. He eagerly busted in the tenant as he exclaimed, “Babe look what I got you!” He held the box of sweets in the air like a precious baby.

☆ He blinked when there was no answer until he heard a small whimper, “Y...Yoosung...help...me...” He rushed to your aid when he saw you on the floor right next to the couch.

☆ He knew what was happening when he saw you holding your stomach as your painful cramp had started to fade the lively shade of your face. He starts to panic, he knows you’re just on that time of month but the pain on your face just breaks his soft little heart.

☆ He gently helps you sit down on the couch, as he hurriedly gets your pain relief pills. You swallow down your pill and take a sip of the water he gives you before laying down with the help of your boyfriend.

☆ You finally find some peace as Yoosung gently reminds you how much he loves you and reminds you of all your notable and lovely assets. You forget about the pain in your lower abdomen as his kind words just warm your heart and ease you into sleep. (*˘︶˘*)

☕️ Jaehee ☕️

☕️ Usually when you suffered from painful cramps Jaehee would always take care of you, the cramps could just instantly go away. But that wouldn’t be the case when you and Jaehee had an argument. Last night, you both were extremely stressed after opening the café. It was a good thing that the place was busy but it could become pretty hectic at times.

☕️ The next day before opening the coffee shop you were hurting so much from the cramps in your lower abdomen. At first when you held your stomach in the morning while cleaning the table before the opening, Jaehee had thought you were lazing around on purpose after the argument. She simply thought you were childish and got instantly pissed.

☕️ She watched, annoyed at your slow work pace and held her head with a loud and pissed off sigh before saying, “Mc, just go up. I’ll take care of the café today.” You turned to look at her with a apologetic look. But that soon turned into anger when you saw her crossing her arms, furrowing her eyebrows and giving you the cold shoulder.

☕️ “Fine.” You painfully muttered before throwing the tablecloth down on the counter in anger. You stomped upstairs to you and Jaehee’s small flat. You loudly close the door to your bedroom and lay down.

☕️ It hurt so much god, you just wanted to cry. It felt like these cramps would just be the end of you. You just wanted the pain away, and be held by Jaehee although you knew that wouldn’t be happening... at least not now. You sighed before trying to ignore the pain and fall asleep...

☕️ You heavily breathe as you open your eyes to the Hospital ceiling. When you look down at your hand you see Jaehee cupping your cold hands together with both her hands.

☕️ “Mc!” She cried as she caressed your face. You stared in confusion, “W...why am I here?” She hastily wiped her tears and hugged you, “You lost so much blood, your face was completely drained of color! I’m so sorry Mc, I should’ve realized the pain you were in. Oh, Mc... I was so scared...”

☕️ You shook your head, “No...no I’m more sorry Jaehee...” The both of you cried that night embracing her in your warmth as she embraced you in hers. The both of you promised each other that the two of you would always honestly tell each other if either one of you were in need of help.

🎤 Hyun 🎤

🎤 Oh Zen was always prepared for your monthly cycles. When you stumbled out of the bathroom after changing your pad, he was already waiting for you against the wall.

🎤 He’d taken the hint when you painfully woke up this morning, and he saw the small spot of blood on the bed.

🎤 You held your stomach before looking up to see Zen with a concerned smile, “That time of the month again?” You nod before looking around startled as he picks you up with his muscular arms and sits you down on the couch.

🎤 You giggle a bit despite the pain, “Zen I have to wash the sheets before they dry and become harder to wash off.” You try to stand up but he just lightly pushes you back down.

🎤 “I’ll do that princess, you just sit here and get served by me.” He grins before he starts to get busy all around the house. Washing the sheets, making you food, doing your chores? He’s on it!

🎤 You feel so bad you want to help him. However... with all the blankets he’s covered you in, you can barely move an inch... Not to mention the stinging pain from your cramps.

🎤 At night Zen sits next to you on the couch, he massages your body placing kisses everywhere as he sings to you. “Hyun... I feel so bad when you always take care of me on my period... my periods almost always go on for 7 days...”

🎤 “Don’t feel bad my love, I’m only doing what I should do for my little lamb.” You snuggle against his chest as he holds your shoulder. “Hm...you’re always in so much pain during your cycle...” He pretends to wonder before whispering in your ear, “I heard orgasms can also help the pain go away-” Your face flushes red before noticing you hit Zen’s chin with your head. When you notice, you’re quick to apologize “Ah, Zen! Are you okay?! You surprised me sorry!-”

🎤 “No...I’m okay my love (´;ω;｀)” He’s mentally crying right now

♛ Jumin ♛

♛ Your periods have never been extremely painful in front of Jumin before so he was scared for your life when you groaned with a pained expression as you held your stomach.

♛ You barely stopped him from calling the best doctors to examine your pain. You had to explain that you had often got these types of painful cramps when you were a teenager.

♛ It took some time but you finally managed to convince him that it was just another period symptom that you had sometimes. He gave up on bringing in the best doctors around the World.

♛ Oh dear but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t find expensive ways to ease your pain. He bought you luxury heating pads, the most expensive pads and tampons consisting rich ‘ingredients’.

♛ He also made sure you were served like an absolute princess in bed. And though it did not impress his co-workers when he’d taken a whole week from work, in order to take care of you and make sure you wouldn’t die, they surely weren’t happy but what could they do?

♛ In bed he asked you if you were feeling a bit better, “How are you feeling, my love?” You giggled a bit by the level of seriousness he had taken into your painful period cramps, “A lot better thanks to you, darling. Can I ask for one more thing?”

♛ He nods with a tense look, “Anything for you.” You pull him onto the bed with you as you rest your head on his chest. “Next time you don’t have to do so much for me, although I really appreciate it! You can’t miss work every week for my period. All I need...is for you to hold me, like this.” You smile as you tightly hug him. You nuzzle your nose on his Adam’s apple. And you can feel his gulp. You giggle, and oh god you just messed with him. Time for bloody sex? Yuck or.. is it... sexy? (✿❦ ͜ʖ ❦)

♛ But much to your disappointment he kisses your head and walks out with a extremely flustered face, “I have to catch up on my work. Please sleep well my love.” Mc be like: ☉▵☉凸 JK JK...or... am I?

👓 Saeyoung 👓

👓 Yesterday was the first day of your cycle this month and you had been feeling surprisingly ok. You were even slightly excited thinking your periods got better because you were getting older.

👓 You found out, that was not true when you woke up in the middle of the night to throbbing cramps. You tried to breathe in and out slowly, but you just couldn’t focus. You tightly gripped onto his pajama pants in agony.

👓 At one point you even started whimpering, and that definitely woke Saeyoung up because he opened his eyes to you painfully clutching your stomach. He kissed the crown of your head, “Are those damned cramps giving my 606 a hard time again?”

👓 You nod as you clutch harder on his pants. He grabs your hands so he can sit up and turn the lights back on. “Slowly try to breathe baby.” When you did it alone it was so hard to do, but with the guide of his voice it suddenly becomes so easy.

👓 When you get better and your focus is on your breathing than on your cramps he whispers “There we go.” You smile, “Thank you Saeyoung.” You expect him to lay back down and go to sleep but he slightly lifts your shirt up only under your chest.

👓 You.get.so.flustered. “Babe, what are you doing?” You get red, but you’re not stopping him. “What a naughty girl. What did you think I was going to do?” Now you’re just sure you’re blushing from embarrassment. He chuckles a bit before proceeding to kiss your stomach and begins talking to it.

👓 “Pain... pain go away.” He gives it one last smooch, “How does it feel, much better right?” It feels so weird, and you don’t want to admit it, but it did kind of feel so much better? You nod as he smiles and turns the lights back off. He holds you in his arms and the both of you go back into deep lumber. Saeyoung is a magican. ( •⌄• ू)✧

🌚 Saeran 🌚

🌚 At first he is scared because he doesn’t know what’s happening to you. You explain to him that you’re okay and going through a monthly cycle. He wonders on what he can help.

🌚 He notices you groaning about how you’re running out of tampons so he rushes out to a close market to buy them... but he doesn’t know which one to buy... so he just buys a variety of them from different companies.

🌚 He also buys a bunch of ice cream. When you see him back from his trip at the market you get a little stressed seeing that he bought so many useless stuff. “Saeran!”

🌚 Then you notice the small and innocent little smile on the boy, you sigh and stand on your tippy toes to give him a small peck, “Thank you.”

🌚 That night you’re unable to sleep because of the painful cramps. Saeran notices and stays up all night with you on the couch. The two of you snuggle with ice cream and Tv all night.

🌚 The both of you regret it when you feel so dead the next day. But you were just thankful, and felt so loved and cared for after all his efforts. ≖‿≖

♧ Jihyun ♧

♧ V had remembered the last time you had painful cramps, and he knew exactly what would help you feel better. He prepped a warm bath for you that afternoon.

♧ He carefully helped you get in the tub as you held his hand. You felt a little embarrassed to be the only one naked but you felt safe and protected by him at all times so it didn't really bother you.

♧ He sat on a small stool by the tub and helped you wash your body and hair. You played with the small bubbles that formed as he laughed at you and pinched your cheeks before apologizing and making sure it didn’t hurt you. What a cinnamon roll.

♧ When you were done, he helped you dry off. He started to blow dry your hair and even braid your hair for you. That made you think, he would be a great parent. You admired the braid he had made for you as you said, “Jihyun... you would be an amazing dad.”

♧ “Y...You’d also be an amazing mother...” You get so caught off by his words. But before you can react he is already heading out the door, you can see a glimpse of his tomato red face. You giggle as you hear him say, “I’ll brew you some tea!” •́ε•̀٥

🧸 Vanderwood 🧸

🧸 “Come on get up, what’re you doing on the floor? I’m trying to clean.” Vanderwood being sassy as usual. You roll around in so much pain, but he just stares at you before rolling his eyes.

🧸 “Babe, I’m in so much pain right now. Why’re you so mean!” He proceeds to put his hair in a bun while still ignoring you. “You were fine just a minute ago Mc-”

🧸 “THAT’S BECAUSE CRAMPS COME AND GO! YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND BECAUSE YOU DON’T GET PERIODS! OH IF ONLY YOU KNEW MY PAIN!” You begin to cry dramatically. He sighs before crouching in front of you, “Does it hurt that much?” You nod. “And how can I help you?” He rolls his eyes as you rub your stomach, “Massage.”

🧸 “Fuck...” He drags you by your hoodie’s hood onto the couch. “Lay down.” You beam with a smile as you follow his command, “Thank you.” It’s so silent and soothing, every touch of his hand allows you to relax. Vanderwood can tell you fell asleep when you begin to snore a little.

🧸 He smiles knowing nobody is watching and gently brushes his hand on your cheeks, “Silly girl.” 凸 • ‿ • 凸 I was trying to clean

#mysme #mystic messenger #mystic messenger headcanons #mysme headcanons #mysme headcanon #mysme Jumin #mysme Zen #mysme Jaehee #mysme Yoosung #mysme Saeyoung #mysme Saeran #Mysme V #mysme Jihyun #mysme vanderwood #mysme fanfic

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