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emeritusemeritus · 2 months

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You think you know someone. [Fred Weasley x Reader]

Title: You think you know someone.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Timeline: OOTP- canon and timelines altered for purposes of the story. Some bits have been exaggerated for artistic purposes. Based more on the films than the books. Reader joins DA but what if instead of Cho ratting them out, it’s you?

Summary: You had everything during your time at Hogwarts- good friends, Fred Weasley as your boyfriend and a promising future, until Dolores Umbridge turns up.

Warnings: This one turned out a little dark. Mentions of injury, torture, bullying, wounds, blood. Umbridge is a bitch. Snape is a bully. Use of unforgivable curses. Punishment. Kissing, pranks, swearing. Dumbledore’s Army and resistant forces. Brief mentions of Voldemort and probable war. Pet names: baby, sweetheart, princess. Not beta read. Happy ending I promise.

Word count: 9.3k (I feel like I’ve written a novel here)

This work is gifted to @kellyxo1 thanks to the wonderful request that I couldn’t turn down! I’m sorry it’s taken me a while to get this out but it’s been a complete labour of love and I hope you like it!💕

You knew Dolores Umbridge was trouble the moment you spotted her in the Great Hall, her gaudy pink outfit and matching pink cheeks made her stick out like a sore thumb amongst the classic, muted colour pallet you knew to be Hogwarts. Her smile unnerved you, the cold expression in her eyes never once matching the infallible twisted, sadistic smile that so often painted her face. Everything about her rang alarm bells in your mind.

Fred and George had been sitting either side of you at the banquet table in the Great Hall as she took centre stage and delivered her speech about being very good friends, as ominous and foreboding as it seemed.

"That's likely," the twins had mumbled, resting their heads on their hands, elbows on the table as a small act of rebellion against the airs and graces she clearly put on. You'd subconsciously scooted closer to Fred when she stood, reaching for his spare hand under the table that he'd offered you, sensing a little of your discomfort. Fred was always acutely aware of your emotions, able to read you like a book, you supposed it was a natural consequence of being together for so long.

You'd met on the first day of Hogwarts when you'd stepped into the train compartment he shared with George, locked eyes and the rest was history. You'd been dating since your second year, both of you unable to deny the childlike crushes and stolen glances of your attraction and as you grew up, you grew together. Now you were in your last year, with big plans ahead of Fred and George's business which you'd planned to help them with initially and bigger promises of moving in together in the flat above the shop. The natural progression of a happy relationship and an exciting prospect that kept you motivated to finish school on a high.

The atmosphere at Hogwarts was different this year: understandably tense and foreboding, not just because of Cedric's death and the rumoured return of Voldemort but of the disquiet around Harry's claims and the propagandistic reporting from the Daily Prophet refuting Harry's claims. It seemed everyone was divided into wether they believed Harry or if they believed what they were reading in the media. It was evident that the ministry had worked hard to deny and deflect Harry'a claims, disparaging and slandering him publicly. Of course the arrival of a certain Pink adorned dementor didn't help things, especially when she, as new defense against the dark arts teacher, did away with the old curriculum and removed any defensive, practical teaching in favour of simple theory- which would be of no use in real life situations, of which you were all undoubtedly facing. Then the educational decrees began where she was appointed Hogwarts' high inquisitor and sought to change anything she was as unsatisfactory, backed by the ministry, which seemed to propel the whole school further and further away from what it should be teaching and how it should be preparing it's students for what was inevitably happening.

"She can't do this! It's ridiculous, George is fuming, never mind Fred," you overheard Ginny say as you were about to take a seat for dinner but quickly stopped as you gave her a questioning look, not knowing what she meant, her eyes focusing in on your frozen form.

"What?"

"You haven't seen the new decree?" She asks curiously, placing down her fork onto the plate. You shook your head briefly before walking quickly out of the hall, dinner be damned to examine the wall of decrees, trying to fix your eyes onto the new plaque on the wall.

Educational Decree No. 30: All Weasley products will be banned immediately.

You rushed upstairs to the common room, split in two minds about wether they would be there or on the quidditch pitch, trying to expel their frustrations... until you remembered that broom flying had been outlawed unless part of a lesson or during Quidditch games, as few and far between as they were coming due to the constant cancelling.

When you found them in their dorm, George was pacing the room, kicking the wooden frame of his bed after every circuit whilst Fred sat perched on his own bed, face downcast and eyes filled with anger.

You knew it wouldn't stop them, nothing ever did, but the business they forged from nothing had suffered for a while as students were afraid of the repercussions of being searched and found with their products.

"Can't sell my products, can't fly a broom, can't even kiss my own girlfriend unless I find a way to snog her from six inches away!" Fred had been furious and rightly so but there seemed to be no hope in sight.

It seemed no one was unaffected by the drastic measures Umbridge was taking and you were all facing the consequences of the increasing restrictions, in multiple ways. You'd been given detention for the stupidest things, including casting a spell to undo the jinx Malfoy had placed on Neville one afternoon, another leg lock jinx that you'd fixed for him, received another for the muggle book in your possessions and another for deigning to be within six inches of George. The punishment was cruel and twisted but you'd hidden it from Fred, knowing how protective he was and how he'd act out to retaliate against her which would only land him in worse trouble. She seemed to focus on you in particular, for whatever reason you weren't sure but she hardly hid her distaste for you publicly. Fred said it was because of your connection to him and George but you weren't sure, it seemed more personal than that.

It had been Hermione's brilliant idea to forge a sort of rebellion in order to actually learn the practical side of defence and you'd been eager to sign up after attending the first meeting at the Hog's Head in Hogsmeade, knowing that you had to arm yourself in whatever way you could, the feeling of unease at the current climate always looming overhead. You'd been pleasantly surprised by the turn out, seeing many familiar faces as you'd walked hand in hand with Fred into the small, freezing cold room as you waited for Harry, Ron and Hermione. Cho, Luna, Neville, Ginny, Michael and so many others from Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff had turned out to fight for the cause and as you looked around the room of friends and familiars, it was evident that this could work.

You'd signed the parchment Hermione had brought with no hesitation, lining up between Fred and Ginny, clearly marking your name under his in the pencil provided. As you walked back to the castle in a group, Fred's arm around you and his hat in your head to keep the cold away from your ears, you felt determined and inspired to make this work. You'd just need to find somewhere to practice away from the prying eyes of the inquisitor.

Then came Educational Decree No.68: All student organisations are henceforth be disbanded. Any student in noncompliance will be expelled.

This time, you weren't angered or afraid of the newly instated restriction but instead felt empowered to rebel. Neville, in a feat of brilliance, had discovered the room of requirement one Saturday afternoon as he made his way down the seventh floor corridor. It was perfect, exactly what was needed, and you'd all wasted no time in putting the room to good use.

Within just two weeks, you'd mastered disarming spells, stunning spells, hexes, jinxes and defensive charms that you'd never thought you could do. Ginny had proven herself to be incredibly skilled and you'd stood watching in amazement as two magpies flying around the room, both coming from your boyfriend and his twin. The twins had taken to placing bets, mostly against Ron, all of you in good spirits about finally being able to do magic again. You and Fred took full advantage of being shielded away from the eyes of Hogwarts and had taken to lingering in the room after the sessions so you could be close to each other, to kiss freely and be intimate again. It had seemed so long, so cruel to have to keep away from him, at least in public and as you watched him master spells so effortlessly and looking so deliciously hot as he did it, often with messy hair and rolled up sleeves, it was exactly what you needed to relieve yourself of the building frustrations.

Fun and laughter had once again returned to Hogwarts, though shielded from the regulating eyes, it was just like before. The twins had even taken to pranking again, no longer concerned by the changes, including giving Filch laced chocolates which made him erupt with giant, puss-filled boils on his face when he got too close to the scent of your secret gatherings.

Educational decree No. 82: All students will submit to questioning about suspected illicit activities.

Umbridge had began to gather students for an inquisitorial squad which would earn them credit for joining, most notably the Slytherin students that weaselled their way into Umbridge's good books. Most probably by being pure bloods. They took great pleasure in pulling up the younger students in particular for punishment or questioning and abused their powers frequently.

Then you returned to school after winter break and the news of the Azkaban breakout happened, constant storms were forecasted, Umbridge's cruel regime heightened. Everything felt so restrictive, so unnecessary, so twisted. The only place you found solace was during DA meetings when you could be yourself, free to act and perform as you wanted surrounded by your friends and boyfriend. Always alert at the imposing threat, knowing Filch was on to you all and the rest of the inquisitorial squad which only fuelled you to keep discreet.

It had been a regular day of classes until your DADA lesson where you'd been required by the toad to write an essay on the benefits of conversational reasoning as opposed to practical magic to handle disputes with half breeds and lower class species, such as centaurs. You'd almost immediately refused to write such things, particularly due to the disgusting terms used to class different species but also due to the ridiculous concept.

"I am teaching you verified way of effective communication, in which you do not have to use your wand," she defends with a sickeningly fake smirk.

"Or our brains by taking away our autonomy," you'd argued, not even under your breath.

"Are you questioning my methods of teaching miss y/l/n? By all means if you think you can do better I should like to see you try."

"Can't be hard, Professor Quirrel did a better job and he shared a head and a singular brain cell with Voldemort."

A murmur of concealed laughter burst from the students around you and for a singular moment you felt the victory of it, empowered even.

"Detention!" She's utterly outraged, her face turning a dangerous shade of fuchsia. You could feel the eyes on you, most notably your boyfriend and his twin from across the room but you didn't care. Since returning to school you'd been torn away from Fred, unable to be anywhere near each other and certainly not in a group with your friends as it would break at least three decrees. You were frustrated and had hit breaking point, anger simmering in you but why you didn't know. You'd completely had enough.

"It's a date Dolores," you said sarcastically with the sickliest smile you could muster. More snickers erupted around you and even a clap that sounded suspiciously like it came from the direction of your future brother in law.

"My office, now!" She screams, pointing with her pink tipped finger towards the door. You grabbed your stuff from the desk and walked out without a single look in anyone's direction. On your way to her office, you pulled the special coin from your pocket and checked over the date and time to check you had it right. There was a DA meeting later that evening and you'd hoped this would be over quickly so that you could still attend.

Only, that never happened. Instead you'd been tortured for hours in the cruelest of ways, repeatedly questioned over your involvement with the alleged group and had been forced to drink truth serum until the words had slipped out of your mouth. You'd had no control over it, no way of resisting any longer and with great shame, you'd told her about the room of requirement, completely unable to stop the words from coming out.

The inquisitorial squad was on you in mere moments, as soon as Umbridge had signalled them from outside the door and Malfoy's grubby hands were pulling your weak and exhausted body from the chair before you could even register the intrusion. The things you'd been through, the pain and the anguish, it was nothing compared to the fear you felt at the DA being discovered; you could only pray that you'd held out long enough so that the meeting was over.

"Where is it?!" Umbridge screamed into your face when you wouldn't disclose the exact location of the room of requirement, having already inadvertently let slip that the room was your meeting place. You gave her your darkest look, no longer feeling controlled by whatever she had obviously put in your tea. When she didn't get an answer, her hand struck you hard right across the cheek but you hardly flinched, hardly feeling the pain anymore.

"I know the way Ma'am," Filch said, his saggy face appearing around the corner creepily, his features twisting into a vulgar, perverse smile. You could hardly look at Umbridge's face as it twisted into a pleased, twisted grin as she fixed her jacket and allowed Filch to lead her. Malfoy grabbed hold of your robes tighter in his fist and you were dragged along with them until you reached the seventh floor.

You felt sick to your stomach, wanting to scream and cry, resist in anyway you could as you fought against Malfoy's hold but you were physically tired and weak. Crabbe had grabbed hold of the other side of you, your thrashing too much for Malfoy to hold down by himself and his hands were much tougher against your skin, no doubt leaving bruises in their wake. When the door to the room of requirement didn't appear, you felt hopeful that she'd realise you were lying, even if that meant horrendous consequences for you. There was no way of warning them, nothing you could do to allow them to flee, you'd have to watch as they were all caught redhanded. They'd think you ratted them out, your friends, the love of your life. You knew it was exactly what Umbridge wanted, to turn everyone against you- and she was undoubtedly going to get it.

"Bombarda Maxima," her eerily calm and squeaky voice rang out as she pointed her want at the wall. Your scream mixed in with the large bang as a giant hole was created in the wall, depris and dust flying everywhere.

When the dust cloud cleared, you were dragged off from the side viciously by Malfoy and Crabbe until you were presented in front of the Army- your friends. You didn't want to look up from your spot on the floor, still fighting against their holds on you but something made you look up. And then you met his eyes.

Fred had never looked at you that way, ever. The looks of love and adoration you'd become accustomed to over the years, the playfulness and the intimate looks, it was all gone. The look in his eyes would haunt you forever, the coldness, betrayal and the resentment and it was explicitly clear what his expression told you.

He believed that you ratted them out, believed that you could ever do that to him, to them all.

You had to look away, desperate to see any hope that someone believed you, that someone sympathised with the torment you'd endured but as your eyes travelled across to George, you stopped short. He looked furious with you, disgusted and despite everything you'd been through in the past few hours, you'd receive no sympathy or chance to explain yourself to the people you loved.

You were dragged away as Umbridge dealt with the Army, bestowing threats and punishments upon them that you couldn't hear. You no longer fought against the holds of the Slytherins but instead went willingly, feeling guilty, shame and simply dirty for your role in all of this, even if it wasn't your fault.

Members of the ministry arrived not too long after, having been alerted prior to the discovery of the DA. You couldn't look at Kingsley, much too distraught to see his look of disgust at you, no doubt planning to tell the Order what you'd done. Harry was ushered in not long after having been caught in the skirmish. His newfound hatred of you seemed to radiate off him as he stood beside you and this alone made you want to scream and cry out of frustration, tears welling in your eyes that you wouldn't allow to spill.

The final straw was when Percy walked in, without so much as a glimmer of recognition towards you and took over from Malfoy to restrain you and Harry, keeping the shoulder of your robe balled up in his hand. The minister ordered him to dispatch an owl to the Daily Prophet and he diligently nodded, trying to manoeuvre you along with him.

"Get off me Weatherby," you demanded viciously, fighting against his hold and managing to break free, only to be stopped as you all looked on in amazement as Dumbledore disappeared out of sight in a magnificent display.

You'd hoped after that, you'd be able to get Harry alone, to explain yourself to him, to tell him what had happened but he'd completely avoided you, blanked you entirely. You hardly blamed him but you needed to explain, to clear your name. Umbridge then commanded Harry to join her in the hall where the punishment was being conducted, all of the DA together.

You'd been permitted to return to your dorm after the meeting had finished but you stood outside of the hall doors, desperate to see Fred and explain yourself, hoping he could bring you at least an ounce of comfort. Your head was pounding from the pain earlier and the marks on your arms were throbbing, sore and weeping though you fought not to look at them, knowing the pain would only be worse when you saw what was tormenting you. You couldn't go to Madame pomfrey, Umbridge had made that very clear and so you suffered in complete silence until you could reach out for your friends.

You lingered outside of the door for what felt like hours, the anxiety and the nerves you felt seemingly freezing time. When the doors opened, the members of the DA began pouring out with soured looks on their faces which only heightened when they caught sight of you. It was never hard to spot Fred and George amongst a crowd, their towering height easily distinguishable amongst a sea of people.

The look on everyone's face was near identical, the disgust and the resentment evident in their eyes as they spotted you but none clearer than the twins. George looked like he detested you, his face scrunched into a look of utter distaste, eyes glaring into you as he walked past without a care. Fred looked away, ignoring your presence completely as he glided past you without muttering a single word, his face stone cold and void of expression.

"Freddie, please," you said weakly and emotionally, with tears in your eyes, turning around in the spot as he walked past you. But nothing, he didn't turn, didn't react, simply walked away without so much as a single glance.

"Harry," you implored, taking a step towards him but he too blanked you again, pushing past you and walking quickly up the steps to avoid you.

You stood alone in the cold and empty corridor, feeling more isolated and alone than you ever had and finally allowed yourself to cry. Silent tears fell down your cheeks, shoulders sagging as you cried for everything you had undoubtedly lost, for the treatment you'd received and for the pain you still felt in your head and arms. Finding a spot in a hidden corner, you finally allowed yourself to pull up the sleeve of your robe and look upon the damage that Umbridge had inflicted with her sadistic quill. It was horrendous, an onslaught of slurs and vicious words etched into your body, no doubt intentionally done to leave the scars as a permanent reminder.

You sobbed your heart out in that little nook between two cold, stone pillars as you tried desperately to heal the marks but no spell was strong enough even to numb it in your weakened state.

You eventually made your way to Gryffindor tower, stepping through the portrait and finding the common room practically deserted. You sighed and walked up the stone steps to your dorm, only to find that the door had been shut and your blanket and pillow had been thrown outside of it, a clear sign you were not welcome even within your own dorm. You were painfully exhausted and wanted nothing more than to curl up in your bed and cry into your pillow until you eventually passed out. But you didn't even deserve that.

With a heavy sigh, you collected your blanket and pillow and trudged down the steps back towards the common room, eyes blurry through a mixture of tiredness and tears. You stopped short the second you crossed the last step, seeing Fred and George step in through the portrait hole, your stomach flipping nervously as you anticipated a barrage of insults or horrible pranks, their allegiance turning from you now.

"Fred, Freddie please," you begged, dropping your makeshift bedding to walk towards him, trying to reach out for him. You paused as you saw the redness on the back of his left hand, a clearly fresh punishment, 'I must not break rules'. George intercepts immediately and barges past you, blocking you from getting to Fred as he turns his twin away from you.

"You think you know someone," George mutters as he gently nudges Fred up the stairs, sending you a vicious glare before he walks up after him, once again leaving you alone. Fred didn't even spare a single glance at you, not even to recoil away.

You curled up in a corner armchair as soon as the tears appeared, pathetically dragging the blanket over you and cried until you fell asleep in the uncomfortable chair.

The two weeks that followed were the absolute worst weeks of your life. Umbridge had stripped you of everything you loved in one fell swoop, turned everyone against you and left the place you called home feeling miserable and lonely. You deserved it, you knew that, having ratted them out. You'd antagonised her and now had to live through then consequences, as cruel and twisted as they were.

The glares from everyone you had once called friends hadn't stopped, especially from George, which hurt the most. Fred had outright ignored any effort you'd made to reach out to him, no matter how desperate you'd sounded or how hard you'd tried to make him understand. He didn't care. He believed the lie.

The first week you'd tried to take your meals with the rest of the Gryffindors but it was made abundantly clear to you that you were not permitted nor welcome to join your friends and had been cruelly banished to the end of the table, beside the first years. The second week you'd stopped attending meals at all, not able to push through the shame and embarrassment of being cast away, exiled from your group. Lessons were monotonous and any down time was utterly excruciating as you were left enclosed with the other Gryffindors, namely your ex boyfriend, though no one would make any contact with you. You'd tried to sleep in your dorm but the girls had done nearly everything to prevent you from actually sleeping, talking loudly, setting off whizzbangs inside your curtains and had even transfigured your blanket a few times to varying degrees of horrid things. At the end of the night when you were certain everyone was asleep, usually very late, you'd creep down to the common room and huddle into your uncomfortable chair to sleep, only to be woken mere hours later when the first of the easy risers woke up. Your life was hell.

"There's just something I don't understand," Hermione says as they all stand on the bridge, the golden trio, Ginny and the Twins, all wrapped up in warm clothes and sweaters as they discuss the changes put into place since Umbridge had taken over as Headmistress. Naturally, the conversation had diverted to you, something Fred was entirely displeased about. The group turn to Hermione after her words, intrigued by the change in tone. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes before opening them again, as if building the strength to say her next sentence.

"I jinxed the enrolment parchment, for Dumbledore's Army," she admits, not quite meeting the gaze of the group around her. "It was purely a preventative measure, incase we were betrayed by one of our own. The person who disclosed any secrets would be jinxed to break out in spots, to spell out 'sneak' across their forehead, so we knew who the betrayer was. Y/N didn't have that, she never even had a single spot."

"Blimey Hermione," Ron says a little breathlessly, disbelieving she'd have actually gone that far.

"I know," she says a little defensively, "I just can't work out how she got around it!"

"Maybe she wrote her name wrong? Did she know about the jinx?" Harry suggests but Hermione shook her head, at the very same time that Ginny replied.

"I was behind her, I saw her write her name. It was right."

"Maybe the jinx didn't work?" Harry suggests carefully but stops himself when he receives a forceful glare from Hermione at the very notion of her failure.

"What does it matter? She dobbed us in wether or not she's covered in spots!" Ron says rather harshly, leaning against the wooden bannister.

Fred can't listen anymore, completely overwhelmed by the conversation and the thought of you betraying them. He turns and walks off back towards the castle without so much as a word to the others, not even his twin, and ignores their calls of his name as they watch him fade into the distance.

Spotting you sitting alone in the corner of the room when he returns to the common room, he frowns to himself. He'd known you since the moment you stepped on the Hogwarts express and had loved you for nearly just as long. It was wrong to see you sat alone, so sad and without the usual spark you naturally emitted. Everyone had always been drawn to you, your humour and wit, your dazzling smile, the fact you made everyone aroun you feel comfortable and valued. Too many boys had been drawn to you for his liking but you'd never even given them the time of day, never once wavering in your loyalty to him or ever made him doubt that it was him you wanted. You'd spent years supporting him, helping him and George develop their products, cheering for him loudly at every Quidditch game and had wormed your way into the hearts of every single one of his family members. Secretly, it crushed him to see you so lonely and tired, even if he still felt the sting of your betrayal.

It didn't add up, though he wouldn't disclose this to any of the more angered members of the group, why you would do such a thing. You'd been excited to start the DA, had joined in enthusiastically, kept the secret for so long and most of all you completely despised Umbridge. He couldn't deny that he still loved you, even though he was conflicted with his feelings now, he still held out hope that this would all go away, that there was a reasonable explanation but his anger wouldn't allow him to listen. It killed him to push you away, wanting nothing more than for things to return to normal but he felt a deep sense of betrayal that he couldn't shift.

"Fred?" He heard from behind him, pulling him out of his musings making him realise that he'd been staring at you all this time as he turned towards the person addressing him. Her name was Emery Atkinson, a Gryffindor from the year below that he'd never really acknowledged or spent much time with.

"Yeah?" He replies politely though he couldn't escape the edge of irritation after being pulled away from his thoughts. He watches as the girl giggles as soon as he acknowledges her and tucks a strand of blonde hair behind her ear.

"Oh good I got the right twin!" She giggles, ignorant to the blank look she received from Fred. "I was wondering if you had some canary creams I could buy? My brother loves them and it's his birthday soon. Your inventions are so clever, I don't know how you and George find the time between your studies and Quidditch, it must be exhausting. You're so good as Quidditch, I always cheer you on. Plus your girlfriend, but I heard that you weren't together anymore right?"

Truthfully, Fred had only registered the first half of her speech, tuning out after Canary Creams but his attention had been drawn back at the mention of you. He can't help but feel that little stab of sadness at the mention of you, especially someone referring to you as his girlfriend, or Ex rather. In the back of his mind he wonders if you heard that, from your short distance away, he hoped not.

"I still can't believe it, why would she do that? If I was with you I wouldn't even dream of ruining it." She sounds faux-scandalised and quite frankly, rather bitchy as he reaches out to touch the sleeve of his sweater. Fred doesn't humour her and instead takes half a step back subtly, reaching to scratch the back of his head as a discreet way of getting her off.

"Er, yeah I think we have some creams leftover, I'll send George over with some later, alright?"

"Not you?" She says with a sad little face, trying out her best puppy dog eyes that have absolutely no affect on him.

"George deals with the confectionery," he says a little too quickly; which is a complete lie. "Sorry, I've got somewhere to be but I'll let him know you're interested in buying."

He breaks away, giving her a forced but polite smile and a brief, parting wave but it's awkward and he's inwardly cringing as soon as he puts his hand down. Turning to where you had been sat in the chair, he notices you've disappeared and he is instantly overcome with a wave of guilt. You'd heard it all.

—

The next few days passed in blur for Fred, his mind wandering between what he was doing and thoughts of you, like he couldn't concentrate for more than a minute. He felt so conflicted within himself, made worse by the time spent apart from you, the longing beginning to set in. He'd never really been apart from you for very long, at most only a few weeks during the summer holidays and even then you'd have sent numerous letters by now, keeping in contact as much as you could until you were back beside each other. Now it was just torture, having you so close but so far away and the knowledge that he was the one that had pushed you away only furthered his guilt and internal conflict.

Fred was in a terrible mood, battling his thoughts, surviving on very little sleep and now the threat of her sadistic punishment was the icing on the cake of a really crap day when he and George had been forced to Umbridge's office. Harry had been caught trying to use the floo, to alert the order or escape and had been caught red handed by Umbridge. Each member of the DA had been frogmarched into the office, shoved and restrained by members of the inquisitorial squad and each member looked as uneasy as the next. His stomach turned when he saw Ginny held down by Goyle and he fought to get out of Graham Montegue's hold but it was useless when Umbridge mindlessly cast a spell to subdue him.

Harry was sat in the chair in the centre of the room, the first to be questioned with Umbridge hovering dangerously close to him, her temper boiling over as she speaks frantically in his face.

"You were going to Dumbledore weren't you?" She says, leaning down threateningly in front of Harry.

"No," Harry responds.

"Liar!" She screams back and in a move that shocks each member of the DA, she pulls back her hand and slaps Harry hard around the face, the harsh sound echoing through the otherwise silent room.

She pauses for a moment, simply glaring at Harry until her face twists into a sick, twisted grin as she straightens up and composes herself, each movement carefully thought out as she turns her back to him.

"Very well, you give me no choice Potter," she says with an even cadence, her tone dangerously low. "As this is an issue of Ministry security, you leave me with... no alternative, unless Professor Snape arrives within moments."

Fred feels like he can hardly breathe, the tension and unease in the air so thick that the room feels like it's getting smaller by the second. The unpredictability of the woman before them was alarming, the dangerous undertone of her voice despite her light and breezy tone was almost scarier than his worst nightmare.

"The cruciatus curse ought to loosen your tongue," she says, adjusting her pink jacket.

"That's illegal," Hermione states in outrage but Umbridge hardly flinches. Instead, she reaches out for the photo frame of the minister on her desk and pauses briefly to look at it before turning it over and lying it down flat on the desk, so that Fudge could not see her next move. She straightens herself and extends her wand, only to stop when Snape appears by the door, his eyes fixed to her outstretched wand that was pointed directly at Harry.

"You sent for me Headmistress?"

"Snape, yes," she says, taking a step back and everyone in the room exhales, relaxing only slightly. "The time has come for answers, wether he wants to give them to me or not," she says, her eyes flicking to Harry only briefly.

"Might I suggest against the cruciatus curse this time headmistress," he says evenly and carefully, "the consequences of such an audience might be... disagreeable. In fact I would hesitate in conducting any of the prior disciplinary methods in this instance.""

This time? She'd used the cruciatus curse before? And on a student? Prior disciplinary methods? Fred thinks, did he mean the quill?

"Very well," she says after a moment of pondering, her arm falling to her side as she relents, eyes wandering over the all too familiar Quill that sits proudly on her desk before her gaze shifts back to Snape. "Have you brought the veritaserum?"

"I'm afraid you've used up all my stores, the last of it interrogating Miss y/l/n."

Snape carries on speaking but Fred doesn't hear a single word, blood rushing to his ears as his heart pounds. He feels like he's received a stray bludger straight to the chest, his stomach dropping with fresh shame, sadness and overwhelming guilt.

Suddenly it all made sense. She'd tortured you into giving out the information- the cruciatus curse, veritaserum, what else had she done to you?

He couldn't help but let out a dry sob at the information, sensing everyone's eyes on him at the news. He struggled against the holds with everything in him, needing to fix what he'd broken.

He'd believed them, so quickly, believed that you could have betrayed them like that. The pain you must have felt, the loneliness and the guilt and then after your whole ordeal he had cast you aside, pushed you away and never given you a single chance to explain.

He eventually turned to look at George who looked utterly broken by the news, his regretful inner thoughts so evident upon his face. Each member of the DA looked a mixture of guilty, sheepish and sad, realising how wrong they'd been about you and what they'd done to someone who had once been their friend, someone who had suffered so much for all of them.

The meeting seemed to go abhorrently slowly until Umbridge left with Harry and Hermione on a sort of mission based upon a quickly constructed lie and Fred didn't waste a single moment before turning around on the spot and punching Graham Montegue straight in the face as soon as Umbridge had left. Seizing the momentary upper hand, the remaining members of the DA turned on the inquisitorial squad and fired an array of jinxes and spells at them in order to get away.

"Fred, Go!" George had urged whilst stunning Crabbe, allowing Ginny to step free. Malfoy fought back but he was quickly matched by Angelina who covered for Fred, blocking the exit.

"Go, she needs you!" Angelina shouted as she sent a jinx flying towards Cassius Warrington's smug face.

Fred didn't hang about and immediately ran out of the office and towards the common room where he was praying you'd be. It was quiet on the main staircases, perhaps it seemed much quieter because of the lack of portraits and bare walls but even to the few people Fred passed, he offered no explanation nor cared about what they thought. He needed to find you.

"Y/n!" He said bursting through the portrait hole and scanning the common room for you, checking the chair you'd so often occupied but found nothing except a couple of bewildered faces at his strange outburst.

"Y/n?" He called again, walking up the stairs towards the dormitories but received no reply. In his haste, he accidentally misstepped as he climbed up to the girls dorm and nearly triggered the blocking slide to appease but fortunately managed to regain his balance and stress carefully over the path he'd taken so many times before, the secret message in the steps that allowed him to breach the rules.

He threw open your dormitory door and stopped blankly when he found nothing. Your bed looked like it hadn't been slept in, there was hardly any of your things around the bed and the room. Had he come to the wrong room?

"Fred?" Your voice said shyly from behind him and he whipped around to see you looking up at him hesitantly from near the door, holding a few things in your arms and your robe tied tightly around your chest.

"Y/n," he says with a sigh of relief, moving forwards quickly to reach out to you but once again stopping short as he noticed you visibly flinch at his sudden movement. Suddenly the overwhelming agony of guilt and regret hit him anew and he vowed to slow down, hoping not to scare you away.

"I'm so sorry," he said, voice breaking slightly as he looked at your tired, sullen face and those wide, scared eyes. He'd never seen you look so broken and it killed him.

"I didn't, I don't ," he stutters, dropping to sit on the side of your bed. "You haven't been sleeping here have you?"

There's a minor pause and he wonders if you're actually going to reply to him, if he even deserves it, until you step forward and place your things down onto the bedside table. He watches in silence, noting the large book and a few packaged bandages that slip onto the table as you gingerly take a seat beside him, your feet no longer touching the floor.

"Kind of hard to when you're banished by the rest of your dorm," you reply quietly. He can't detect the tone of your voice, expecting it to be sarcastic or unhappy but it actually sounds flat and completely void of emotion.

"The chair," he realises, "you've been sleeping in that chair?" He's slightly bewildered and profoundly ashamed now, not having clicked until now that you'd been there early in a morning and late in the night, much later than you'd ever typically stayed up before. You shrug and turn your attention away, though you're yet to actually meet his eyes.

He drags a deep breath in through his teeth, resisting the urge to hang his head low on his shoulders.

"Y/n, I am so sorry, I, I don't even have words," he says, stumbling over his words- something so uncharacteristic for him that it briefly startles you. "You didn't deserve this, even if you had told Umbridge about us, no one deserves this. We were all so shocked that it could be you, of all people. We never stopped to think of why," he pauses again, steadying himself. "Snape admitted what she did to you, she tried to use it on Harry but he stopped him."

"But the quill was broken? How could she use it on Harry?" You say, finally looking up with a look of complete confusion.

"What quill?" Fred asks, completely lost himself, "the black quills? I meant the cruciatus curse, she, I mean she, on you, didn't she?"

Your silence says everything and he has to close his eyes and steady his breathing at your silent confirmation.

"What quill?" Fred feels a little bolder now and reaches for you but you pull your arm back and place it in your lap, trying not to wince as you catch the healing scars. "This one?"

He holds out his hand and shows you the faint markings from his punishment, 'I must not break rules' barely visible now. He frowns when you shake your head but don't offer any other explanation. He's frustrated that he's not getting anywhere but it's internal and he knows it's not your fault, he just wishes he could help, or go back in time and fix everything.

"Tell me, please," he says, keeping his eyes locked in the side of your face, trying to urge you to look at him. "What happened in that detention?"

"It doesn't matter," you say quickly, hopping down off the bed and stepping over to your trunk to get a fresh shirt from the laundry pile, knowing it would need changing. "I've got to shower."

You go to turn away but Fred lunges for you and grabs your arm to stop you from leaving, making you cry out in pain as soon as his fingers make contact with the tender skin. As soon as the shock wears off, he frowns, looking down at your arm before looking up to your face, seeing tears falling down your cheeks.

"Please baby, please just tell me," he says, voice breaking as his own tears well up in his eyes.

"She told you about the veritaserum?" You ask, assuming anyway and Fred nods. "Then you know what you need to know."

"No, I don't," he says quickly, trying to think of ways to stop you leaving without hurting you. "She used an unforgivable curse on you! Gave you truth serum, you cried when I touched your arm and you have bandages on your bedside table, please just tell me what happened!"

"Fine," you say, pulling your arm back. "You want to know? She tried to force it out of me, tried to get me to drink the stupid tea but I wouldn't. When that didn't work she pulled out that little stupid quill and wrote anything she wanted all over me. You wanted to know about the bandages? Fine," you said viciously, clawing at the fastening of your robe. Underneath was your once crisp, white shirt that had a considerable amount of red blood staining the sleeve. You didn't stop undressing, all but ripping the buttons away as you fought to show Fred what was underneath.

Bandages littered your forearms, with blood oozing out the sides. Fred's frozen as he looks at the bandages on your body, sick to his stomach already.

"Did you know Snape is a skilled occlumens? I didn't, I do now. So after she was playing with that sadistic little quill, writing whatever she wanted into my skin, he enters my mind and shows me every single fear I've ever had, every nightmare. But I didn't say a word, not a single fucking word. Do you know what it's like to have visions forced into your own mind of your boyfriend dying in front of you repeatedly, over and over until you start to go mad? All whilst your skin is slashed open just to get you to talk? Only it didn't work, so she dropped the quill and picked up her wand. I've never felt closer to death in my life but still so far away from it. But I wouldn't talk. So she forced veritaserum in my mouth and I couldn't stop it, she got what she wanted no matter what I'd fought for. And the best part? They don't heal, not truly. Nothing I do stops it, like a constant reminder of what happened."

"Princess," Fred chokes out, tears streaming down his cheeks, fighting to hold back his sobs at your words.

"No, not princess," you say sternly, emotions all falling from your face. "Not anymore."

"Please, I want to make this right, anything I can do, I want to support you," he says, nearly begging. "I have to make this right, I can't lose you."

"No."

Your voice is harsh and stern, your face expressionless again. "You believed them so easily, you all did. You believed I could do that to you, without hesitation. You didn't let me explain, never even looked at me because you were so certain that I could have done it. I've been exiled, banished and forgotten by all of you I called friends without a single thought. So you and your stupid brother and the rest of Dumbledore's friggin army can go fuck yourselves, it's not my fight anymore."

Fred flinches as the door slams shut behind you and he's left to sob openly, his devastation consuming him. Eventually when he returns to his own dorm, George says nothing upon seeing his twin's stricken face and his curtains fully closing around the bed.

The next morning, Fred has already left the dorm by the time George wakes up and doesn't see him at all around the common room or the hall, though he's not surprised. But when he doesn't show to his lessons, George worries and goes in search for his twin with increasing worry. Eventually, he finds him in the library, pouring over an array of books from the restricted section, most of them about healing spells and anatomy.

"Freddie?"

When Fred looks up with red rimmed eyes and an intense look in his eyes, it's clear to George that Fred hadn't slept. "Whatever it is, let me help."

One week. It took one week of endlessly pouring over book after book until they finally found options.

It's early morning on a Saturday when Fred creeps down to the common room was before the sun has risen, seeing you hunched over in your chair. Angelina had told him that they'd apologised profusely to you and had accepted you back with open arms back to the dormitory but you'd simply walked away and carried on sleeping by the fire, not yet willing to forgive them for the treatment you'd endured.

"Y/n, y/n, wake up," he says quietly, carefully touching your shoulder, trying to avoid anywhere that he had seen bandaged.

"Freddie?" You ask sleepily and his heart soars with hope at the noise, the familiarity of it abs the softness of your voice so heartwarming.

"I have something to show you, me and George," he says lightly, waiting for you to wake up.

"Told you both to get fucked," you mumble, squashing any hope he had, but he perseveres.

"Just this once prince-y/n, please," he says quietly. You open your eyes, seeing him still dressed in his pyjamas, pleading with his eyes and looking so vulnerable that you relent and agree to whatever he had planned. Throwing back the blanket, you surprise a groan at the stiffness in your neck and diligently follow him back up the stairs towards his dorm, accepting his hand as he guides you. Your hand fits perfectly into his, just as it always had.

"Where's Lee?" You say as you walk into the dorm room, seeing only George who gives you a small but timid smile.

"Bunking with Ron," Fred says somewhat vaguely, gesturing for you to sit on his bed. The room looks exactly as you remember albeit slightly less dishevelled than you'd experienced previously, but you don't mention anything. Fred takes a seat beside you and George moves forward, grabbing a book from the chair beside his bed.

"We don't know if this will work," George says.

"But it's better than nothing," Fred finishes, gingerly reaching out for your hand.

"What?"

"The wounds," George says gently, "Fred told me, we just want to make them better. Might not get rid of them completely but it's worth a shot."

"Found this in an old healing book, it's a counter curse for wound healing by curse," Fred says, taking the book from George to show you. "Figured Umbridge's quill must have been cursed so this might work. Please let us help."

All it takes is a nod from you, albeit slightly hesitant but truthfully there was no one you trusted more than the twins, before at least.

You could hardly look them in the eyes as you pulled away the bandages, the vile words etched into your skin by her personal sadistic quill. You heard George inhale at the deepest cut along your inner right forearm but didn't react, knowing it would be shocking to anyone.

"Take my hand, if it hurts too much all you have to do is squeeze and we'll stop, okay baby?"

Biting down on your lip to stifle your cries, you hold Fred's hand tightly as George begins to cast the counter-curse, each of you watching on with rapt attention and slight amazement as the cuts begin to slowly knit together. It was working.

You whimper as he works over the deepest, the same one Fred had accidentally caught the week before and Fred's hand squeezes yours automatically for support.

"You're doing so well sweetheart, it'll be over soon I promise," he says quietly in your ear, comforting you in anyway he could.

After the last cut is sealed, George immediately drops down to sit onto his bed, his concentration and energy depleted from focusing so hard. You can't believe it as you look down at your arms, no longer seeing blood and only able to see the faintest of marks and redness where the wounds had once been. Only then do tears begin to fall from your eyes as you launch yourself towards Fred, throwing your arms around him in appreciation. He steadies himself after a moment of being caught off guard and holds you tightly against him, shushing you gently as you cry. His arms wrap around you so perfectly, so protectively and his smell comforts you like to no other, exactly as you remember.

"You did so well, so well, it's okay baby," he coos into your ear. You pull apart slowly and immediately walk over to George, pulling him into a hug though it's a lot less intimate.

"Thank you both so much," you sniffle.

"You're welcome," they answer at the same time, making you smile.

"We've missed you," George says after a moment. "I'm so sorry for what you went through and for what I said. I should have known it wasn't your fault, you've been my best friend for so long and I'm so ashamed of myself for how easily I believed her over you, that should never have happened."

"And you know how sorry I am," Fred says, walking over to you and kneeling down until he's directly in front of you.

"You're the best thing that has ever happened to me and I was an idiot for ever thinking it was you. I know things can't ever go back to how they were before, but I love you so much that I can't lose you. Seeing you hurting almost broke me and I know that you might need time or never see me again but you need to know exactly how I still feel about you."

"It's not just you," you say in reply, heaving out a long breathe, "I pushed people away."

"We deserved it," George says.

"Baby," Fred says gently, getting your attention. "I don't know how to fix this or how to make things better, but I'll do anything. I was an idiot, a complete git but I'll spent the rest of my life trying to make it up to you. Please say this isn't ruined."

For the first time since the incident, you allow yourself to feel hopeful that things could get better, that Fred could love you again. Sat surrounded by the two people you loved most in the world, you finally felt the love and protection you'd been needing since that awful night.

"I want that," you say quietly, picking at the blanket under your fingers, "I just want things to just go back to normal." You raise your eyes up to Fred's to see him smiling back at you, clearly pleased with your words.

"Well, let's start with this then," he says with a mischievous smirk, leaning towards you painfully slowly as if he's giving you plenty of time to say no or push him away. His soft lips press against yours gently and you can't help but feel a warmth spread all over your body, almost like you were defrosting and returning back to you're usual self. His hand reaches up to cup the side of your jaw and you're certain you can feel a fear hit your cheek, though it doesn't come from you.

The next morning, you walk hand in hand with Fred into the great hall for breakfast and sit right back at the centre of the table with your friends. You assume Fred or George had threatened them not to say anything as everyone around you acts normal, pretending the previous weeks didn't exist, though one by one they all apologised to you, most notably Ron and Harry. Ginny thought you were badass for everything you'd been through, not relenting even though you'd been tortured into eventually revealing the secret. Hermione had apologised so eloquently and thoroughly that you both ended up crying in the common room as she explained about the jinxed parchment and how she'd held out hope that it hadn't been you.

Each person made it up to you in anyway they could, admitting their mistakes and regrets and though you would probably never forget, you chose to forgive.

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deadsetobsessions · 4 months

Text

He doesn’t know how they got here, but Jason’s thankful for it. It’s not often that he speaks to Cass, when Jason’s passions are words and righteous murder and Cass’s passions are distinctly not that, but when they do speak, they manage to get along. Somehow.

“So, why don’t you kill?” Jason leans back on the couch, his favorite mug filled with Alfred’s hot chocolate.

Cass is curled against the arm of the sofa. She looks at him, head tilted. Jason knows she’s reading him, but he’s not sure what she’s finding. It’s humbling, and intimidating, to know she sees more than what he allows to show.

“I can see,” she says. “That one time… I killed. I saw. Pain. Fear. Desp- des- not wanting to die.”

“Desperation?”

Cass nods. One of her fingers fiddle with the material of the couch. Jason knows she’s allowing him to see the motion. He knows it’s her silent way of showing him trust.

“There is more. To dying. Like… like they see their lives-They think- remembers. Loves. Their life- regret, love, everything. It goes through-” Cass taps her temple.

“Their lives are flashing through their heads?”

“Yes. Good. Bad. Everything. I see.” Quieter, Cass adds “I know. I know them, then. I killed a life that I know. They love. Everyone, have something they love. I kill, I kill that love.”

“That must suck.”

Cass leans back. She nods, neck releasing their tension and eyes less hunted, more accepting.

“Yes. I don’t want to- I don’t want to be the end.” Cass swivels her shoulders towards him, now. “Why… why do you?”

“Me?” Jason… hasn’t thought about it for a while, nor too deeply. But this is Cass. And her honesty deserves an honest reply. “I kill because some people shouldn’t be left alive to hurt and kill others”

“Not about… Bruce?”

Jason took a sip of his hot chocolate. Cass settled more into the couch, her eyes clear and watchful.

“It used to be,” he admitted. “About him, I mean. It used to be about vengeance. But then I came back to Crime Alley, and then I saw the kids getting hurt instead of being protected. They’re innocent. And then, it wasn’t about Bruce anymore. Killing is just the means to an end now, for me.”

“Do you- not regret?” She makes a gesture at his leg, where on a normal day, his holsters would be.

“I try to make sure I don’t kill people I’d regret, no. Like, you know how sometimes you guys arrest muggers?”

Cass nodded.

“Sometimes,” Jason said, remembering the days of digging through trash for food and the lingering hunger that rumbled through his younger self’s stomach. “They mug people because they’re desperate. I don’t kill those guys. But people deal to kids? Who hurt sex workers? Rapists? They’re doing irreparable harm, with full knowledge of their actions. For profit, mostly. If they’re willing to ruin lives, then they should be ready for their own to be ruined. It’s justice, for people like me.”

Cass studied him. “Justice…?”

“The only kind us Alley kids could ever appreciate. Arresting an abuser, a threat, and having that stick is for the privileged. Having that threat removed completely is relieving.”

“Can’t trust the world to be fair. But death, is fair.”

“Yeah. I think if I saw as much as you do, it’d be harder to do. But I think I’d still kill, because one person’s suffering after a life of being evil is worth the safety of so many others. To know… well, I guess I’m glad I don’t know what that’s like.”

“I see.”

“I know you do,” Jason grins at her. “But not killing is an act of courage too. Even if B makes it seem like it should come instinctually.”

“Yes. He does not connect, with Damian. Does not understand, fully, how hard. To unlearn.”

“Yeah.”

They sit in silence for a while after that, listening to the sounds of their family clambering around in other rooms.

“Hey, Cass?”

Cass turned back to him.

“I would kill David Cain for you.”

He would. It makes the Pit seethe when he thinks about how much David Cain and Lady Shiva hurt Cass for her to get this insanely good at reading people. He hopes she sees the pure honesty and sincerity he feels at that declaration

Cass puts a hand on his shoulder and squeezed once. Twice.

“Okay. Thank you.”

“No objections?”

“… would not feel too bad.”

Jason snorted.

“Yeah. You and me both.”

He doesn’t know how they got here, but he’s thankful for it anyways, because he understands his sister just that much more now.

#cassandra cain #black bat #Jason Todd #red hood #they have different philosophies #but theyre family your honor #cass would stop jay from murdering people if she sees him #he’d let her bc he’s not gonna win that fight #he’d also go back and kill whoever later #David Cain #being a horrible parent I hate this guy #dc #Cassandra Cain seeing someone’s emotions as they die #she doesn’t want to be a weapon #Batman

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emmettworld · 1 month

Text

hello, my beloved whump community. this is Emmett. but you probably know me better as this blog:

or you may remember the blog before that:

you may have even been here since this blog:

...i'm not taking you farther than that. xD

my account was terminated without any warning today. March 25, 2024. all of my blogs are gone and i have lost everything i have on them. you won't even be able to see any comments or reblogs for me on any of your posts.

if you have commissioned me over Tumblr DMs and not Discord, please contact me here. i did not have a copy of my commission list saved. i do not know who hasn't paid and who already has. i do not remember who was on the list. i do not want anyone to be cheated out of their money.

i have no idea why this happened. i was not doing anything that could justify my account being terminated with no warning or explanation. i'm so paranoid about it that i won't even type the blog names; that's why they're images instead.

but at this point, most of you know the type of whump creator i am. one who creates whatever he wants, no matter how disturbing or explicit it may be. one who loves creating whump and content in general of the Not Safe For This Website kind.

getting one of my blogs flagged, and now losing everything, is not going to stop me. i'm not going anywhere. but i am going to be changing my approach to posting content.

this is my Language Key. i will be using a system of emojis for tagging instead of words, so please read this before you go on my blog and know which tags you need to block.

if you need to block my blog for any reason, go ahead. i don't want to disturb anyone by showing up in the tags.

all of my artwork that is Not Safe For This Website will be linked to an external storage website, MEGA. it is completely free to view and you do not need an account. there will be no cropped previews unless they are 100% Safe For This Website.

all of my writing that is Not Safe For This Website will be linked directly to where i post it on my AO3. it is completely free to view and you do not need an account. there will be no writing put under a read more unless it is 100% Safe For This Website.

trust me, i'll have a better pinned post up at some point explaining who i am and my multiverse of AUs, series, and OCs, and links to my commission page, and my Ko-Fi...and i'll do my best to finish the masterlists and, once again, build myself up from the ground up...

but i'm exhausted. i never saw this coming, and it's made me realize just how unsafe i am. i lost so much content that was only posted on Tumblr and not saved anywhere else.

believe me when i say that i am fucking devastated.

but i'm not going anywhere. i will die with this site when it eventually goes down, and not because it tried to kill me.

that being said, you can find me here on Cohost, which is where i'll migrate to when this place dies or where i'll communicate if i happen to get IP address banned (probably without warning) or something that prevents me from coming back.

if you don't want to refollow me here, i totally understand. i can't say how grateful i am to everyone who does, but like...i get it. it's tedious having to refollow me all the time, never knowing when a blog (or full ass account) is going to suddenly disappear. if you want to get off this crazy, unpredictable ride now, i don't blame you.

and if you decide to stick around, for however long, thank you. this day has been one of my worst nightmares and i don't think i would be handling this with nearly as much grace if it were not for my friends and everyone on my Discord server (which, by the way, is the only safe place where i share everything uncensored).

they were my first line of communication. they helped me get the word out. they rallied for me and kept me from having one massive breakdown over this, so my heartfelt thanks go out to them.

i'm using the whump community tags in hopes that more people will see this. i had hundreds of followers on my last blog, more than a thousand on the blog before that...i know this isn't going to reach everyone, but i hope it will reach some people.

thank you so much for reblogging this to help spread the word if you do. and thank you for reading. ❤️

#whump #whumplr #whump community #whump art #whump writing #whump creators #whump blogs #emmettworld

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galene-gothic · 9 months

Text

𝖶𝗁𝗈 𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗁��𝗇𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 ?

୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ I hope this reading found you in good health, every reblog is appreciated and thank you for everything :) ˖♡ ˎˊ˗ ꒰ 🐇 ꒱

˗ˏˋ༻ʚ♡︎ɞ༺ˎˊ˗ PAID SERVICES

⸼ ۫ ︎︎⊹ ! 🪡︎ Pile 1 ꒱

This person triggers your childhood issues by making you relive certain patterns. They likely had a messed up childhood too though. When you first met this person, you might've had a lot of dreams including them. As you started getting to know them, the more attached you grew, to the point of obsession actually. This person is neglecting their inner child. They daydream a lot in general and I think after the both of you seperated, maladaptive daydreaming became a coping mechanism for them. They seem to be insecure about themself and their image. Especially, now more than ever because they might have thought that you'd stick by their side forever but you chose to walk away. They're emotionally immature and act really childish and when I say that I do not mean that they act like a child, I mean that they lack the ability and understanding to deal with matters in a way a healthy adult does. Likely, because they're unhealed, they're also very sensitive towards their emotions but when it comes to yours, they neglected it completely. If this person is still in your life, you need to burn the bridge, the way they're acting is helping it burn anyway 💀. They have a tendency to reject your emotions, "I felt hurt because of what you said" "You do not understand me, I was just joking and I'm going through a hard time please just leave me the fuck alone." This person invented the concept of 'hurt people, hurt people', they're emotionally wounded and wound everyone around them, then, they sit there and go "everyone leaves me". They tend to take simple confrontation as a direct attack on them. They likely treated you like trash and were unaware of the consequences. They see you as someone who lacks direction and self control. They also think that you're kind of pushy. They think that you have some sort of a strong conflict with them. They think that you're arrogant even though you are not all that. Honestly, you might've acted really humble with them, downplaying yourself and your accomplishments with them so that they didn't feel insecure but on the inside, you were and are actually pretty strong. They think that you question life's purpose a lot. They think that you fear change. You might have had a strong foundation with them so they still have some amount of faith that you'll go back into their life. I'm getting that they can either see or feel that you're starting fresh and they haven't come in terms with it yet. The kind of energy I'm getting is.

Just an example, by the way, supposing you've been friends with someone since you were in middle-school, even when you're in college, they cannot let go of that image of you even though you've changed a lot. They think that you're someone who fears change but they can see or feel that you're stepping into an evolved version of yourself. When they were in your life, you might've been a person who clinged onto the past and they still want to think that you're like that but they have a small fear of like "what if they're actually changing?" They think that you act really irrational sometimes even though I think that you were often driven to the point of irrationality. They seem to expect a lot from you without giving you anything because you've always given them a lot for free. They think that you refuse to see things as they are, even though they seem to be the person doing it right now. They think that you act passive aggressive. Even though, everytime you tried to talk to them in a mature manner, they just shut you down. They're thinking about how they lashed out and hurt your feelings. I'm getting that now that you're gone, they're starting to look at you through a different lens. Before, they looked at you through the '___ will never leave anyway' kinda way but now they're looking at you through rose-tinted glasses. "Damn, they treated me so well but that's how I treated them." They feel a lot of guilt towards you. They still find it unreal that you let go of them. They just cannot accept it. They don't really talk to anyone about what happened. Maybe, their friends, etc. don't really know you, you might've been a secret to them. This is upsetting, to be honest. They have mixed feelings and thoughts, while they think and believe that you are not over them, that you'll be back, they're starting to feel like maybe this time you actually won't come back. You might have a history of leaving this person and going back to them, again and again. They have a feeling that you're focusing on your life purpose and think that you might've found a new hobby or are just focused on improving yourself, your art, getting an education, etc. They also think that you're healing right now. They kind of know that you've had enough of their shirt, they think that you're managing your emotions and staying true to yourself. They think that you're focused on peace. For some of you, they think that you're just with someone else right now but once you guys split, you'll go back to this person again.

They sometimes just go 'what if ___ thinks I'm good riddance?' and you probably do think that way. They assume that you think that the both of you had a good foundation. They kind of believe that you'll be back because of how strong that foundation was, even though that faith is starting to shake now. I think the both of you were pretty comfortable with each other until it was not possible anymore. They think that you felt like your investment of love, time and energy was worth it but things have changed now. They think that you're probably really disappointed at them and also at the situation. They know that they made you feel really sad, pretty much abandoned. They think that they made you feel emotionally unstable and lonely. They think that you're likely still processing it. They wonder if you're happy with where you're at right now because they seem to have treated you really bad. They're mentally overwhelmed. They have kind of taken the loss. There was a lack of proper communication. They barely even have the energy to think. They feel confused though. They're struggling to let go because you added a lot of support and value into their life. They regret not listening to you. They find themself stressing about this situation but they choose to have faith that you'll go back to them. My advice is that you stay away from them but the decision is up to you ofcourse. They feel like you're the kind of relationship that goes through thick and thin together, even though, you were the only one going through all of it. You awakened something in them. They were shallow and had a character/spiritual poverty but they're starting to come out of it, thanks to you. I think, since guilt is the only thing that they can feel close to you, they're holding it very close but now they're trying to forgive and accept themself and the situation. They feel like they were very difficult and disagreeable with you. They know that they acted unworthy of your trust. They're actually feeling really weak and needy right now. They remember you as someone who was really struggling and was stuck in a cycle with them. They also remember you as a really loving person though. They remember how trustworthy and supportive you always proved to be. They remember you as someone kind of free who was maybe kind of non-committal but they also remember that your loyalty towards them was very strong. They reminisce about the days when you used to talk all night.

⸼ ۫ ︎︎⊹ ! 🪡︎ Pile 2 ꒱

They have a tendency to overspend. They're shedding their old skin. They're generous and giving towards others. They're kind of possessive of the ones they want though. What I'm getting is that this person was protecting themself to the point you had to walk away from them. They're someone who has a structured routine. They're structuring and strategising their next moves towards you but they feel like the responsibilities that they'll have to take will be really heavy. They were very defensive which caused you to believe that they do not feel anything towards you, I just heard 'apathy'. They're daydreaming a lot about you. They're not being able to see the bright side when it comes to this situation. I'm not sure what happened but they regret whatever happened. Maybe, they didn't make their decision quick enough, they chose someone else but what I'm getting is that they were in fact stringing you along. They wonder what things would've been like if they were willing and able to grow up. They remember you in a very nostalgic way. They seem tired of everything. You might even think that they acted very ungrateful but maybe because this person didn't really promise anything to you, you're not thinking about it too much. You are likely like "I wanted to give ___ to them so I did, while I feel like I wasted it, it's alright". You're not the kind of person who makes noise just because you spent money, time or energy on someone and things didn't work out. They feel like they kept you around for their own personal needs. This person might've been one of the people who used to thrive off of having options and they're starting to realise that it was detrimental. They feel like they acted really cold and closed off towards you. They enjoyed it when you used to reach out to them, you used to give them a lot attention even though they did not return the same to you. It made them feel superior. They're starting to realise that it was kinda manipulative and harsh of them.

They were playing stupid games and they won stupid prizes. They feel like they might have judged you too harshly too. They're feeling kind of trapped. They feel like you've let go or are letting go. They feel like you often put them first in the past. They think that they made you feel really insecure at some point. They see you as someone who's accepting of other people's differences. They see you as someone loyal, atleast towards them. They think that you empathise with others and try to be understanding towards them. They feel like you are loving and interested in giving and receiving love. They're not feeling stable within themself. They're feeling impatient to the point of recklessness, if they're not acting reckless in front of you right now, which I feel like you don't give them the chance to act, they are doing things by themself that are kinda reckless. The thing is, this person is not able to do anything long term. I recommend that you stay away from them but it's ultimately your choice at the end of the day. They are still feeling and acting very selfish. I'm not getting that they feel any guilt, they just regret what they did because you don't give them energy anymore. They are commitment phobic and pretty fixed on staying single, no matter how many hearts they have broken and will continue breaking doesn't matter to them at all. They want you back in their life but it's just for this selfish cause. They'll likely make empty promises if you do re-enter their life. They think that you see them as someone who's just not ready to commit. They think that you think that they're neglectful of other's especially your needs. They think that you think that they fear commitment and don't face your emotions. They think that you see them as someone who lacks communication skills and is unwilling to communicate. They think that you see them as someone immature and someone who fears abandonment. They'll likely not come forward and you should move on.

⸼ ۫ ︎︎⊹ ! 🪡︎ Pile 3 ꒱

This person is maturing and growing. The energy I'm getting is that you've seen them when they were not as mature too. Maybe, an ex friend or an ex lover who left the hometown for college or work. There's an energy of seeing each other grow up or something. Even though, they've let go of the past, they haven't really. They look at life and especially, you through rose tinted glasses. I'm not getting that you are on good terms though. They feel homesick and want to go back to how things were. I'm getting that it was probably a platonic connection though. Coming across anything that reminds them of you, stirs up their emotions. They're worried that the grudges that might be present in the connection are still there. You might have recently met them in some sort of a reunion and maybe it was awkward or you might've received an invitation to a reunion or to hang out and they might be invited too. You've likely known them since your childhood or teenage days though. You guys had a lot of fun together. 'Ditto' by newjeans started playing. The both of you didn't have a hard time accepting and working with your differences. You used to feel so safe and happy with each other. I'm definitely getting something that was long term though, maybe you were in the same friendgroup for years or know each other since childhood. You were emotionally content with each other. I'm definitely getting a community-like vibe, same school, town, neighbourhood, etc. They are thinking about you because when you were having a lot of chaos in your life, they added more to it and didn't support you.

They're thinking about how you've suddenly changed. I think they basically did everything to make you feel less than and when you chose to stand up for yourself. You ended up coming off kinda aggressive and they chose to use that against you too. They're thinking about how bad your mental health must've been at that time. They think that you've developed a 'i ain't taking anyone's shit' attitude. They were triggered to think about their behaviour when things fell off with a man, it could be their homie, boyfriend or whatever but the man acted very immature which caused them to think about the way they acted with you. They think that they were being quick to anger when it comes to you which caused them to come off as unreliable. They were being very manipulative and they're aware of it. I'm getting that for whatever reason, you're not around any of the people who remind you of them but for them, the people they're around likely bring you up a lot and they do the same too. I'm getting an ex friend group vibe. When they're having fun with their friends or literally just meeting them, they end up thinking about how you used to be there too. They recently met or talked to someone and were reminded of you, probably because the other person brought you up. I think the main issue here was envy. They think that you're someone seductive and you attract the gender that they're interested in. If they are not a friend but a romantic interest, then they were jealous and upset about the options that you had. Maybe, they didn't attract as many people as you did or atleast that's what they thought.

They think that you're someone who gets whatever they want. They might think that you're kind of childish too. I feel like, you were childish in the past but aren't anymore though. They think that you're self-reliant and don't need them. They think that you're wise and elegant. They think that you can treat yourself now. They think that you're kind of happy and content without them. They think that you're successful in certain areas. They see you as someone who's always growing, they don't understand how things are always going well for you. I just heard "she knows how to talk to guys" 💀. They think that you take action towards the things that you want. They feel like things have grown distant between the both of you and it's ruined to the point of no repair. The thing is, you seem to having a good life, things seem to be working for you while they feel like it's not the same for them. They compare themself to you a lot. They feel kind of defensive too because they think that you're happy and content without them. They feel like you don't need them anymore. They think that you've not gotten over what they did to you, the negative things, you'll never be able to get over it, even if you do forgive them, you'll never be able to trust and love them again, that's what they think. They wonder how you feel towards them, they think that you do feel nostalgic when thinking about them. They also think that if they do reach out to you, you'll not make any rash decisions. They think that you'll prefer having more information about them before making any decision. They think that you might even outright tell them that you've let go of them.

#intuitive readings #pick a deck #pick a card #pac #tarot pac #pac reading #pick a picture #pick a photo #astro notes #astrovations #astro observations #astrology #pick a gif

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schrodinger-swriter · 3 months

Note

If you are still doing the fluff alphabet, could you do A B C E G J and K for Alastor?

A, B, C, E, G, J and K for Alastor

I'm still doing this alphabet! I'm unsure of how long I'll be doing it for, but I'll probably cut it when most of the character's have a good chunk of the alphabet done... or when people understandably lose interest. Which ever happens first!

Apologies if I seem a little off today in my writing, that horrid time of the month is approaching and it's throwing me off. I hope you enjoy, Anon!

ATTRACTION:

Now this one is interesting... see I know full well Alastor is aro, or at least somewhere on the spectrum. I'm just unsure of where he lies, if it was ever stated he was totally aromantic or something else. Personally I write him as demiromantic, or perhaps even greyromantic? We also need to take into account on if he's attracted to your romantically or for other reasons. He would probably like to spend his days with someone who keeps him on his toes, at least a fair amount. It keeps things interesting, and unless he has a reason to, he won't stick around if things get dull.

BONDING:

Alastor seems like the type to listen to music while sipping a glass of wine, or some other alcohol. Complete with sitting in front of a fireplace or some other piece that ties the aesthetic together. Reading, too probably. You're more than welcome to come and join him for some quiet time. I enjoy the thought that Alastor spends his time like this when he's not actively doing his job at the hotel or trying to network or build his power.

CUDDLING:

As most sinners are, he's very warm! Very skinny, though. Boney, even. Cuddling is rare, though, because he doesn't enjoy physical touch all the much outside of some occasion. He definitely tolerates your touch better than other's, but it's better to initiate cuddling when the mood is right. He may not initiate it often, however. Cuddling is exclusively done behind closed doors, he prefers his privacy.

EMOTION:

He shows just enough emotion where it's needed. Appearing happy with you and perhaps laughing if something funny has happened, or getting angry about something. He's not totally emotionless, and some of his true feelings do still shine through. But it's hard to tell where that starts, he's good at deceiving those around him into thinking whatever he wants them to think. He reacts and emotes with you, but he's not wearing his heart on his sleeve. In regards to romantic feelings, he does treat you more.. how does one word it..? How he behaves with Rosie, but more... casual and open.

GIFT GIVING:

Oddly enough, Alastor gives gifts fairly regularly. It won't be everyday, but you can bet that you'll always have a new bouquet of flowers by the time the previous ones had begun to die and wilt. Typically small things like that.

If you give Alastor anything, he will politely accept it. Maybe if you go into his room or into his radio tower, you'll find the gifts you've given him. It's a sweet thought, I think, he'd be ready to discard of anything he truly didn't want or need but here he is keeping the things you've given him, regardless of need.

JEALOUSY:

He conceals his jealousy fairly well, often outwardly portraying it by reminding you why you two are together. Re-enforcing the idea that you two are tied together. Be it literally or not.

He easily puts the other person into the ground, once more.. be it literally or otherwise... though that's assuming the other person doesn't turn tail and run when they realize you and the radio demon are an item. Though, that's also assuming they even know who he is..

He's confident that you won't do anything stupid or leave him.

KISSES:

He typically kisses you on the back of your hands and on your cheek. He does a little bow... dip.. when he takes your hand to place a kiss on the back of it. They're usually quick and fleeting.

Receiving he also enjoys cheek kisses. You guys don't do mouth kisses, tongue or not.. that often.. if ever. No harm there, besides kissing someone who's constantly smiling seems like it would be a little awkward.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin imagine #hazbin x reader #hazbin x you #alastor x reader #alastor x reader headcanons #alastor x you #alastor imagine #radio demon x you #radio demon x reader

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poppurini · 1 year

Text

him as a private tutor

leona, jade, malleus, lilia & gn reader

magicless au, platonic, for fun

˖ leona kingscholar

“Just Leona. Let me see your textbook.” no introductions or anything, just straight to the point. probably doesn’t ask for your name since he already knew. yes he didn’t prepare anything beforehand, no flipping through your syllabus before the actual tutoring because this man just skims through your textbook under twenty minutes and started teaching. yes he’s good at it. unfair, really. sometimes he’ll get a generational shock at the current syllabus though. “The hell are kids learning these days.” “Do you even need these in real life.”

he may seem like an indolent man (and he is) but it’s honestly so impressive of him to be able to understand your syllabus the moment he reads through them and being able to teach you about it.

strictness is 4/10 he doesn’t really care if you didn’t do the homework he assigned bc he’s not gonna be the one failing those exams that determines 70% of your future. yes those were his exact words. he might nag you a little but after that nothing’s on him. clocks off right on time.

˖ jade leech

this mf whips out a whole stack of 9cm tall worth of exercises for you because he thinks it’s funny. eerily friendly. might unintentionally make you feel a little dumb when he does that little inhale and tilts his head slightly, looking genuinely confused as to how you could get this question wrong. wears glasses (i know what jade leech stans are) occasionally. yes those attractive thin framed ones. only when you’re halfway selling off your soul to deal with the mountain of exercises he’s telling you “Oh, you needn’t get all of them completed today.” with that very innocent smile.

strictness is 7/10 he’s scary when he’s strict. might let you off the hook once or twice with incomplete homework (only with valid reasons tho) but afterwards that service smile drops and questions why you’re so reluctant on doing homework. it’s just a 2k word essay. also clocks off right on time even if he’s about to finish teaching a topic he’s not going to provide free labour.

˖ malleus draconia

this man is INSANE literally not one day does he wear a casual outfit to your sessions it’s always professional wear with him. yeaah i’m back with my dress pants dress shirt along with vest plus neat tie malleus only this time he doesn’t have his collar unbuttoned and sleeves rolled up sob sob gotta look clean. intimidating asl but that’s just bc he’s bad at connecting with the younger generations (or anyone, really) however it’s very sweet of him to still try and crack some academic related jokes with a straight face (it’s up to u whether they’re funny or not) hoping you’ll laugh. look he really wants u to open up to him so that u can absorb knowledge better instead of being constantly on edge around him ok

strictness is 9/10 oohlala much like jade he’d close an eye if it’s not a frequent occasion but he demands respect and you constantly putting off the works he assigned to help you clearly shows you don’t think of him as anything. he is patient and nice but only when you deserve it. also he’d delay a maximum of twenty minutes of your time after class ends just to finish talking about the topic.

˖ lilia vanrouge

DEADASS the most fun tutor ever. he’s all malleus ever want to be. bought drinks or snacks on his way and decided to buy you some too (just take it even if the flavours are weird). this man makes you comfortable around him instantly and teaches better than most of your teachers in school. definitely checks out your stationary while you’re suffering in doing matrixes. you can hear him mumbling to himself sometimes “Broo we didn’t even have these back then.” and it’s a squared glue stick. “Can you link me where you got this.” also THE most patient tutor and he won’t even let you feel bad for making him explain the same thing for the nth time. his job is to teach! not scold.

strictness being a 2/10 he’ll still advise you to do your homework but not in a scolding manner. he’ll really gently talk you into doing them for your own good unless you’re outright being disrespectful then the rate changes :p will ask if you want him to continue when the clock strikes end of session. if you don’t, okay! he’ll get back to it next lesson.

#leona kingscholar x reader #jade leech x reader #malleus draconia x reader #lilia vanrouge x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #leona kingscholar #jade leech #malleus draconia #lilia vanrouge #gn reader

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charmercharm3r · 2 years

Note

I dont know if you're taking requests but

Imagine camping with friends and SKZ are in the campsite next to you and you start flirting with chan or any of 3 racha and you end the night getting fucked in their tent or an a table or something

Idk I've never made a request .....

ooo I like the way you think... perfect timing with chan's birthday :3 hope you like it!

Camp Out

Masterlist

wc: 3.4k

Synopsis: You made some great friends on a trip you didn't even want to go on.

warnings: smut, sexual explicit content, unprotected sex (do not do this), mentions of exhibitionism, little bit of ass slapping, creampie

You should’ve never let your friends convince you to go camping. You hated the outdoors, at least living outside for a few days. It never seemed appealing, no hot shower, no running water, having to use nature’s bathroom. But still, they assured you that you’d have fun and that it’ll be great for making memories together. So reluctantly, here you are at a campsite.

Surprisingly, there were a few people around doing campy things like barbecuing and playing in the lake. Sure, it was nice for a few hours. Then the boys at the site next to yours came over, inviting themselves to your campfire for some s’mores. They’d introduced themselves as Jisung, Changbin, and Chan, cool guys. Probably had no idea what they were doing because their attire screamed city, just as yours did. None of you were prepared for camping.

You had to admit, you didn’t hate the new addition to your camping group, the three boys were quite easy on the eyes. Chan in particular caught your attention, finding his quick-witted jokes and curly hair to be rather endearing. He lingered around you, making conversation that felt so natural as if you’d been lifelong friends. It felt right to stick around him, maybe throw in a flirt here and there.

Your now extended group laughed and had fun together until the sun went down, and you were forced to choose tents. Since there were four of you and three tents, one tent would be shared between two. It was just your luck that you got a tent to yourself— in the dark, in the middle of nowhere.

Chan and his friends were around when your group decided on sleeping arrangements. To keep the fun going, one of your friends invited them to move their site to merge with yours. How could they say no to a group of girls inviting them to sleep oh so close by?

Yeah, the boys were underprepared with only one tent for the three of them, not that they minded. They all seemed pretty close and the tent was a decent size. The tents were set up in a lopsided circle, the boy’s next to yours and you were thankful there was a few people stronger than you in case something happened.

Seeing your hesitancy to sleep alone, Chan offered you the baseball bat he kept in his car to accompany your measly pepper spray for protection.

“Don’t leave any food out, bears can smell it,” Jisung nonchalantly said, packing his leftovers into the sealed garbage bin. Your voice caught in your throat at the mention of bears possibly lurking around.

It was like Chan could read your mind. “Don’t worry, there’s no bears,” he whispered, nudging your arm gently and giving you a warm, dimpled smile.

His words didn’t ease you. By the time the sun had completely set and everyone dispersed for the evening, you were practically shivering with anxiety. It didn’t help that no one else seemed to understand your worry. So you tucked into your sleeping bag with the bat within arm’s reach, unable to fall asleep.

Somewhere between tossing and turning and your mind racing with the different possibly exit strategies, a twig snapped outside and made you jump, causing a small squeal to escape your lips. Scrambling to slip your shoes on and a jacket, you clicked the flashlight onto the highest setting and grabbed the baseball bat. Your hands trembled as you unzipped your tent, hoping to get into one of your friend’s tents as quickly as possible.

Your feet stumbled onto the grass and the bat instinctively raised at ready position. Just as you turned to walk towards the other tents, another body moved and you jolted the bat back, winding up to swing.

“Whoa, whoa! Down, girl. It’s just me,” Chan said quietly, throwing up his hands in surrender. A relieved breath pushed past your lips.

“What the hell are you doing?! You scared the shit out of me.” Lowering the bat, you relaxed your stance and shone the flashlight in Chan’s face.

“Checking on you, I thought I heard you scream. Will you not point that in my eyes?” He squinted and covered his face from the bright LEDs, you muttered an apology and waved the beam around the floor. “Maybe I’ll let the bear eat you next time.”

Terror suddenly made your jaw chatter, “you wouldn’t.”

“Wouldn’t I?” Chan scoffed playfully, turning his back to crawl into his own tent.

“W— wait— Chan?” The unusual stutter of your words had him pausing, body half in the tent and half outside. He didn’t say anything, waiting for you to continue. “Will you stay with me?”

Blinking blankly, Chan stared straight ahead at you. He didn’t answer for a few moments, brain short circuiting because this person he’d just met a few hours ago was asking him sleep with them.

Well, not sleep with them— just sleep next to them. Shaking his thoughts out of the gutter, Chan nodded and secured his tent with his sleeping friends inside of it. You wrapped your arms around your body, scared as he made his way over to you. All he did was put his hand on the small of your back to guide you into the tent and you felt warmth instantly shoot through your body.

“Oh wait, let me get my sleeping bag,” he said hushed as you were already getting back into your own. The thought of him leaving you alone was terrifying, making you reach out to grab his arm before he could leave the safety of your tent. There was a genuine terror in your eyes, making Chan nod and close the tent. “O— okay. Just hold on.”

The sleeping bag was expandable, knowledge you didn’t possess until he’d unzipped and rezipped it to fit two people. Chan waited for you to lay down first, unsure of what to do with himself because he’d only spoken to you this very same day. You faced away from him on your side, so he took that as a sign to lay on his back, unassuming in the way the back of your thighs touched his. He could feel your body warmth through his sweat pants, how were you so hot to the touch?

Against better judgement, Chan snuck a glance beneath the sleeping bag, seeing you in just shorts and a large shirt. He let out a deep sigh, and just as he did, your arm reached back, finding his. You pulled him to lay on his side behind you, draping his arm over your torso. His breathing hitched, holding it in until he was comfortably holding you.

Another glance below the covers, he took extreme notice of how closely your butt was to his crotch. Don’t do it, don’t do it, don’t do it, he thought to himself, imagining anything but your ass coming into contact with the half chub he was starting to involuntarily raise.

Your eyes were open, gripping tighter onto his arm and pulling him closer until you were flush against him, chest to your back and hips to your ass. Was it unnecessary? Sure. But Chan was hot, there was no denying it. And he seemed like he was the kind of guy that enjoyed saving the damsel in distress judging by how quickly he’d gotten up to see if you were okay when you screamed. He’d gotten into your tent with little to no convincing, it’d be a shame to pass up the opportunity to tease him a bit.

His hand hovered over your stomach, unsure of where to touch, so you interlocked fingers, tugging him slightly upwards to rest just under your breasts. When you pushed your hips back just the slightest bit, you felt it. He was hard, incredibly so.

It was so unlike you, inviting a stranger into your bed. But maybe that was also what excited you. There were no strings attached, no feelings, you could enjoy yourself without having to worry about the aftermath.

That’s why when you heard Chan gasp at the contact, you didn’t stop. You pushed harder into his crotch and rubbed your ass over him, his grip on your hand tightening. The more you grinded back into him, the more confident he got, now absolutely sure of why he was here. So he propped himself onto his elbow, brushing your hair from your neck and leaning in, placing soft, experimental kisses to your skin. Unaware of his own neediness, Chan rubbed harder into your backside.

The feeling of his lips ignited you and made the warmth in your stomach spread. He nipped at your neck again, growing hungrier and hungrier as his hips picked up speed. Turning your head just enough, you met his lips with the same fervor, only the sound of heavy breaths and the swapping of spit echoing in the tent.

Chan untangled his hand from yours to bring it to the hemline of your shorts, tugging at them. It was rushed and slightly awkward, but you managed to get them down to your ankles. As soon as you did, Chan snuck his fingers towards your core, hot and wet from the second he agreed to stay with you.

His fingertips only grazed your clit and touch-deprived hole, making your body shudder. “Sensitive thing, aren’t you?” He whispered, voice deep with lust. You could only mewl in response, wanting more.

With the lightest touch, he flicked at your bundle of nerves, getting you to arch into his chest and whimper again. A dark chuckle erupted from his throat as Chan swiped some of your arousal, using it to spread over your pulsing mound. He played with you like this, legs instinctively spreading wider the more he rubbed circles into your clit with just the right amount of pressure, just the right speed. He alternated between gently biting onto your earlobe and whispering, “dirty girl. Letting a stranger touch you like this. You’re loving it, hm? Practically begging for me to fuck you.”

He pinched your clit between his fingers, getting you to moan louder. “Please,” the word all you could speak.

“You want that? Want me to fuck you here? Your friends might hear, y’know. They’ll know how badly you’ve wanted me all day.”

You mumbled an, “mhm,” followed by another moan.

“Use your words, baby. Tell me what you want.” He circled your entrance, your hips lifting to give better access. Though, he only teased you, running them around the outside and making a mess of your essence.

“Fuck me, Chan. I know you wanna, too.”

Caught, he let out a guttural growl, shifting slightly to bite into the crook of your neck and plunge his fingers into you. Three digits, he was knuckles deep in your cunt and leaving bruising marks to whatever skin he could get his mouth on. You could only lean further into his body and let your jaw drop, mumbling his name as the heel of his palm nudged your clit and fingers picked up speed.

“More, don’t stop,” you pleaded, failing to keep a lid on your noises.

His fingers curled just right, doing exactly as you asked and not stopping until you crumbled. Obscene squelching and wet noises filled the tent as you came, Chan rubbing his palm into your clit through your high.

When you came down, he pulled his hand away and brought his fingers to his lips, sucking on them and letting go with a pop.

“Tastes like heaven. You’re gonna have to let me get more than a sample next time, babe.” Want shot through you again at the thought of a next time with him, the thought of his plump lips and fat tongue on your cunt instead.

“Are you—“

“On birth control, yes. Now c’mon.”

In a hurry did he pull down his sweats, just enough to get his cock out. He lazily pumped himself a few times before running the tip through your sopping folds from behind, lifting your leg for better access. Holding up your leg and keeping himself propped up left Chan with no hands, missing and sloppily playing with your aching cunt. You reached between your legs, arching your back to get his cock to slide into you. And when he did, oh how your eyes rolled back and the lewdest of moans escaped. Chan had to shut you up by towering over and smashing his lips into yours.

He bottomed out in a matter of moments, your walls slick with arousal and orgasmic bliss. But he stilled, just feeling how you convulsed and sucked him in deeper with every clench.

“Move,” you urged, grinding your ass into his hips harder. The tip of his cock just barely brushed against your sensitive spot, but not enough. It was hardly anything and Chan was too lost in the heat of your cunt, so much so that you took it upon yourself to buck back onto him, fucking yourself on his cock while he relished in the way your body moved.

It must’ve looked pathetic, how eager you were to come that you wriggled in his grasp to get him to screw you.

“Please,” you cried in a more desperate manner, voice rising an octave or two.

Chan took the hint, sitting up straighter and resting your knee in the crook of his elbow. He rocked his hips slowly, testing both yours and his limits. It was too gentle, too soft how he took you. There was no way you’d be able to come again like this.

“I said fuck me, Chan.”

His hips stilled, lodged in your pussy. “Hm, I don’t know, pretty girl. Beg me again.”

“I’ve been begging,” your voice grew broken, gone.

“Say please just one more time.” The teasing tone in his words made you want to curse him for even toying with you while he was balls deep. But no matter, you still caved.

“Please fuck me harder.”

A satisfied chuckle left his lips, messily peppering a few kisses to your keep and neck. “See, was that so hard?”

You groaned, playfully annoyed until he pulled out. The sudden emptiness made you whine. But Chan had another idea, gently guiding you onto your stomach and hiking just your hips into the air, back arching to the heavens and face planted in hell. His large hands smoothed over the area of your ass cheeks, placing wet kisses to your back where your shirt had ridden up. Chan hastily pulled his sweats lower to get more comfortable and took hold of his cock again, sliding in and filling you once more.

Upon your moans filling the space, he took both your hands and pinned them behind your back, using them as leverage to pull out and thrust back in hard. Your ass rippled when his pelvis collided, cunt tightening around his cock and making Chan’s eyes roll back.

“God, you’re a fucking sight to see,” he uttered, unsure of whether or not he really meant to say his thoughts out loud.

Steady, solid pounds he left as you whimpered into the sleeping bag. Much to your pleasure, Chan had a mouth on him.

“This ass, been staring at it all day. Those fucking leggings, lord have mercy. Wanted to bend you over the picnic table and fuck you right there, in front of everyone.” His admittance to wanting you just as badly made you cry out louder. “You like that? Putting on a show for all your friends to see? I know my friends would die to see this ass up close. Guess they’ll have to settle on hearing you scream my name.” Chan brought his hand up, bringing it back down to leave a smack on your ass cheek.

You groaned into the comforter again, biting on it to keep from making too much noise. However, Chan wasn’t having it. He pulled the fabric from between your teeth and swiped your fair from your face. “Don’t hold back, baby. Let them hear how good I’m making you feel. Make them wish it them getting to fuck you this good, that it was them getting to cream around my cock.”

Cream, you did. Chan was fixated on it, the ring formed around the base of his cock every time he pulled and pushed into your quivering cunt. He couldn’t look away, too pleased with himself because it was proof of how good you felt.

Good was an understatement, you were fucking levitating. There was a numbness in your legs that could only have been caused by a good fucking, and Chan was there giving it to you. So yeah, you cried his name as he kept your arms bound behind you using only one of his large hands as makeshift handcuffs on your wrists, the other hand reaching around to circle your clit again. When the pads of his fingers made contact with the bundle of nerves, your body jolted forward, presenting your cream covered pussy even wider for Chan’s viewing pleasure.

Oh, did that sight go to his head. His hips stuttered deep into you, head falling back as he let himself breathily moan your name. The pause he put on finishing each other off was only for a moment, because then he stole his hand from your clit and pushed into the top of your ass, signaling for you to lay flat on your stomach.

That position was the beginning of his end. As soon as you were how he wanted, the build up of cream spread further up your ass cheeks, covering them as he somehow slid deeper into you.

“Fuck,” he let out a deep sigh, letting go of your wrists. Chan took your hands with him as he leaned over your body, wanting to hold onto you somehow.

When he started to hammer into you again, your ass jiggled even more, slapping sounds bouncing off the waterproof fabric of the tent. If water couldn’t get in, then it couldn’t get out. The both of you were a sweaty, sticky, creamy mess, unable to get enough of one another. Chan’s hips practically bounced off your ass with every thrust, keeping a steady rhythm until his balls grew extremely heavy.

“C— close,” you managed to mumble as your brain grew hazy with every smack of his skin on yours.

“Just a little longer, baby. Fuck, you’re so wet, so tight. So fucking good for me.” His assault didn’t cease, but it did get sloppier.

His rhythm faltered, speeding up and turning into shallow thrusts to constantly make your butt ripple and the head of his cock nudge into the sensitive spot inside you. A few more minutes, a few more rough slaps of his big hand smacking against your skin, the smell of sex filling the tent and now both your and Chan’s pleasure filled moans probably scaring away every animal within a few yards of the campsite. He couldn’t stop, you felt too good around him, your pussy was begging to milk him dry.

“Gon— gonna cum,” you whimpered breathlessly, hiding your face Chan’s hand that kept his weight up next to you. Your cunt squeezed and released at a relentless pace around his cock, spurring him into a frenzy to reach his release.

“Go ahead, pretty girl. Let go, cream real good on my cock.” His permission allowed for you to relax into the pleasure, let it wash over you for a second time and bite into Chan’s wrist to muffle your moans— not that it did any good. You cried his name as white took over your vision and body turned into jelly beneath him.

Limbs weak, you let Chan continue to pound into you from behind until he found his peak as well, burying into you with a deep sigh and soft call of your name, walls spasming and welcoming his seed.

Heavy breaths, Chan collapsed onto you, trying and failing not to let all his weight press you into the ground. Even though you were both a sweaty mess, he still found comfort in kissing the back of your neck, rubbing soothing circles into your hand and hip, cock still plugging your hole to keep his sperm from spilling out.

“Probably don’t have to worry about bears anytime soon,” he mumbled into your skin, eyes closing at the comfort of your body’s natural scent.

“The only bear in my tent just fucked me six ways to Sunday.”

Both you and Chan began to drift off, feeling content and full with his body acting as a blanket. Just as you were falling into darkness, Jisung’s voice called out, “Hope you’re both done scaring the animals and traumatizing your friends.”

A/N: I love doing requests. I feel like I write them better than coming up with ideas from scratch and idk why. but this was fun!! send me more :p

-momo < 3

#stray kids fanfic #bang chan #bang can fanfic #bang chan smut #bang chan fluff #bang chan scenarios #bang chan x reader #bang chan x y/n #bang chan x you #stray kids smut #stray kids fluff #stray kids scenarios #stray kids fanfiction #skz smut #skz fluff #skz bang chan #skz scenarios #babybrowmbear95

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dean-winchester-is-a-warrior · 2 months

Text

The Dangers of Hope Ch. 5

Series Summary: When Y/N shows up at Camp Chitaqua with her little girl in tow, her bloodshot eyes leave no doubt that she's infected. Or is she? Everything Dean has come to know for certain over the last five hellish years, is about to be challenged.

Pairings/Characters in the series: Endverse!Dean x Reader, Emma (OFC), Castiel, Sam Winchester, Lucifer, Michael, Zachariah, Risa, Johnston (OMC), Patrick (OMC), Theresa (OFC), other survivors and soldiers.

Series Explicit 18 +/Warnings: Show level violence, some gore, angst, smut, fluff all the usual for a series of mine. ❤️ Endverse!Dean (that's a warning for his anger and callousness as well as his extreme hotness. 😁) Each chapter will have their own specific warnings.

Chapter Warnings: Nothing major.

Word Count: 5,402

A/N: So, I've had this idea for quite a while. Basically since I watched The Last of Us. I loved Pedro in the role of Joel, but I kept thinking how incredible Jensen would have been. Which then made me think of how amazing he was as Endverse!Dean which then led me to this idea. Lol! I've stolen the premise of Ellie's storyline from TLOU, but made her a grown up, a reader insert, and a love interest for Dean.

If you've never seen TLOU, don't worry - you don't need to have seen it to understand this story. 😊

I've taken some liberties with the Endverse in my story, changed a few things from canon, but kept lots of things too.

I sincerely hope you enjoy the story. It will be ten chapters and I will do my very best to post one chapter every weekend. ❤️

A/N 2: Sorry, this chapter is a bit longer than usual, but I hope you enjoy it anyway. 😘

Series Master List || Main Master List || Tag Lists

The dividers below were created by @saradika

Over the next two weeks, Dean did whatever he could to avoid being around Y/N. He was determined that the morning at the river was simply going to be a weird one off. It was some kind of reaction to Y/N’s unfamiliar presence. Her emotions and her rose-colored outlook on the world had contaminated him somehow.

He didn’t know why, but there was something about her that always made him question his decisions, constantly rework his plans. She just brought something out in him, so he stayed the hell away from her as much as possible.

He knew she’d set up the school and begun teaching. But there again, she’d made him change his plans. The plan had been to use the sheds behind the cabin for storage; that was the whole reason for building them!

But apparently Y/N had worked her magic with Brandy and before he knew it the sensible, practical woman had him convinced to let Y/N and the kids take up one of their very limited storage spaces, just to sit around doing algebra and reading poetry - or whatever she was teaching them.

It was ridiculous.

But even though he avoided her during the day, there was no turning off his brain at night, when he closed his eyes and visions of her soft curves and the memory of her silky skin beneath his fingers plagued his thoughts. He told himself to smarten up, that he had so many more important things to be thinking about.

He decided he just needed sex; it had been too long. So one night he showed up in Risa’s tent after midnight and she opened her arms to him the way she always did.

But as he kissed her and moved his hands over her body, her gentle sighs and soft moans weren’t doing what he needed them to, and he realized he was being an asshole trying to replace one woman with another. Risa was a good soldier and she’d been a soft place for him to land too many times to just use her as a distraction.

So he got up and left, giving her a lame excuse, “I forgot I have to be up early tomorrow to…go over things with Johnston.” He tried not to notice Risa’s frown. He couldn't tell if she was mad or sad, and he didn't really want to stick around to find out.

As the days moved on, he realized it was next to impossible to completely avoid Y/N, whether day or night. Because no matter how he tried to ignore her, he saw her influence everywhere. He could sense a shift in the air, he swore people were smiling more and every once in a while, he could hear kids laughing loudly.

That was a foreign sound nowadays, and it unnerved him. And smiling seemed foolish. What was there to smile about? Being happy just invited tragedy. He knew in the old days he would have been called a pessimist. But he was simply being a realist as he'd always been. He called things as they were, and he wasn't about to let a pretty smile and a bouncy attitude change that.

One evening, about a month after Y/N arrived at the camp, Dean was headed to the storage shed to take a thorough inventory before they left the next day on a raid - one of their last before the snows came in mid November. He knew they were gonna need more propane than what they had stored in order to run the generator over the winter. The generator ran the fridge and freezer where they kept their food stored.

It could also power the electricity in the big cabin for a little while if needed. There had been nearly a week last winter that had been so piercingly cold that they’d all needed to jam themselves into the cabin and run the electric heat as much as possible. It had simply been too cold for the little camp stoves in the tents; the wood-burning stoves just couldn’t generate enough heat to combat the intense cold that seeped through the thick canvas walls.

So their generator had saved them, and it ran on propane, which meant they needed more than enough to last through another possible cold snap.

Dean had deliberately waited to start the task until it was nearly sundown since the school would be empty by then and he could avoid running into the teacher that worked there.

But as he approached the small building he could see a wavering light in the window - a lamp moving towards him. Before he could turn and leave (he wasn’t going to call it running away) Y/N stepped out into the semi-darkness and gasped as she saw him standing there.

She put the hand not holding the kerosene lamp to her chest. “Oh my lord!” She breathed out raggedly. “You scared me half to death.” But she was chuckling as she said it and walked closer to him.

He cleared his throat. “Yeah, I uh…I thought you’d be gone.” He knew he sounded slightly accusatory. “Why are you still here? Haven’t the kids been gone for hours?”

Y/N nodded. “Yeah. I came back to put up the gift we got from Tom Richardson.” She waved him towards the building behind her. “You should come see the school.”

Dean shook his head. “No, I’ve got…I have to -”

She cut him off with wide, pleading eyes. “Please?” She added a bright, imploring smile and Dean shook his head. Why was he even bothering to say no to her at this point? He gestured for her to lead the way into the little building and he followed at a distance.

They walked in and she set the lamp on the small table in the corner and turned it up full so that it completely lit up the tiny room. She held her arms out to the sides, showing off her little schoolroom with pride.

“What do you think?”

He shook his head. “It’s uh…pretty empty.” He said looking around.

Y/N shrugged and seemed a little deflated. “It’s a work in progress.”

Dean grunted his acknowledgement and continued his sweep of the room. On the floor against the back, Northern, wall were a couple of piles of wool blankets, and right above them was a mural of multicolored leaves stuck to the wall.

When she saw him looking at it and frowning, Y/N explained. “I got the kids to find a bunch of pretty, fallen leaves, and then we used some tree sap as glue to stick them up. I got to teach them a little bit about trees and ecosystems, and we also made something pretty to hang on the wall.”

He nodded at the blankets. “Is that where the kids sit?”

“Yeah.” She said with another shrug. “We’re a little packed in, but it keeps us warm. The blankets just take the chill out of the floor and make it a bit softer to sit on.”

Dean nodded absently and looked left, his eye catching on the only other object in the room. It was a paper map hanging on the western wall, held in place by two small nails.

Dean frowned again. “Is that a map of America?”

Y/N nodded excitedly. “Yeah, that was the gift from Tom Richardson. It was so kind of him. His son, Jonah is a sweet little guy, but I guess he’s been pretty quiet over the last year or so. He lost his mom just before he and Tom got to Chitaqua?” She said, clearly using the words as a question to see if he knew who she was talking about.

Dean nodded, a vague recollection coming to his mind of a big burly guy and a scrawny little kid. He remembered thinking the guy would be a hard worker, and the kid probably wasn’t gonna make it. He’d looked pretty sick.

Y/N continued. “Well, I guess since he started school he’s been talking more in the evenings, even asking Tom questions about The Knights of the Round Table. I’ve been sharing some of the legends with them this week. So, Tom was grateful and as a thank you, he gave us this map that he’d kept tucked away in his backpack all this time. Said it made him feel peaceful to look at it and remember better times. But he thought we could use it more.”

She smiled wistfully and gazed at the slightly ratty map.

“Why?” Dean asked with a slight jolt in his gut. He waved at the map. “It’s not like this anymore.”

Y/N nodded and lowered her gaze to the ground. “Yeah, I know, but the general shape of the country is still the same, and I can use it as half geography, half history.”

When she looked back up at him, her face was set in lines of disappointment. She waved her hand to encompass the whole hundred and fifty square feet. “You don’t like it?” She asked with a weak chuckle.

Dean shrugged. “No it's, I mean, it’s fine. You know, work in progress, like you said.”

Y/N nodded and smiled, looking a little bolstered. “Yeah, slow but sure. And you know,” her smile turned shy, “I’ve really wanted to thank you for giving up the space for the school, I know this wasn’t what the shed was earmarked for.”

Dean cleared his throat. “Yeah, well, Brandy made sense. Can’t have the kids wandering around outside after the cold comes.”

Y/N frowned. “I’ve wanted to thank you, but every time I’ve looked for you, I seem to have just missed you.”

Dean scowled defensively. “Just busy.”

Y/N nodded.

“Well look,” Dean said, backing away, “I gotta get to…stuff.” He shook his head. “I mean, we’re leaving on a raid tomorrow and I gotta prepare for it.”

“Oh, be careful.” Y/N said, biting her lip in concern.

It was far too hard for Dean to rip his eyes away from where her teeth sunk into the satiny sweep of her bottom lip. But he jerked his head up and then spun away as he answered her. “Always am.”

***

The raid was successful; in fact it was one of the most successful ones they’d ever had. They’d traveled all the way to St. Louis, hoping to find some gas stations there that hadn’t been picked clean. But they had no luck. Since going home empty-handed wasn’t an option, they went North to Springfield and hit the jackpot.

They found an old Costco on the outskirts of the city that had barely been hit. They filled and loaded up enough propane tanks to see them through the winter and then some.

They also loaded up as much food as they could, and even found some usable meds left in the pharmacy there. They grabbed clothes and kitchen things like plates and pots, utensils, also managing to find a few things that had become rare and quite precious, like eyeglasses and sunglasses. They also found spare tires and car parts, and a few simple pieces of practical furniture. They took as much as they could load into the back of two trucks and a Jeep.

Dean packed up one more big box, setting it on top of the others; it was just something he thought might come in handy. He refused to think too long about why he’d gathered together the things in the box.

They made it back to camp less than two days after they left, a record for a raid. They usually took a week or more because they had to scavenge through a bunch of different cities, and fight off masses of Croats. But this time, they didn't see any Croats at all, and they'd scored an incredible haul quickly, which meant that, barring some kind of catastrophe, they wouldn't have to go out again until the snow melted.

They pulled into the camp around noon and Dean spent a few hours helping to unload the trucks and organize where everything went. When the campers saw the piles of booty in the trucks, people actually started clapping. An air of joviality pervaded as they all worked together to put things away until the next day. At which point they'd begin accounting for it all, sharing what was needed immediately, and then safely storing away the rest.

Y/N and her students left their little schoolroom to come help as well and the kid’s eyes were wide and excited, looking at everything that had been brought back as though it was Christmas Eve.

When everything was unloaded, Dean grabbed the box he’d put aside and brought it to Y/N who’d returned to the school to drop off the two folding chairs she’d claimed for the classroom.

He knocked on the open door, grateful for the hard wood beneath his knuckles this time. Y/N turned to face him and her eyes were almost as bright and excited as the kids’.

“Hi!” She said enthusiastically. “Wow, you guys sure brought home the bacon on this raid!”

Dean shook his head. “No bacon. It was fairly rancid.”

Y/N chuckled lightly and scrunched up her nose. “Yeah, wise decision to leave that behind.”

Dean nodded and set the big box on the plywood floor with a heavy thump. “This is for you. For the school.” He amended.

Y/N looked a bit dumbfounded for a moment and her eyes got even rounder before she dropped to her knees and pulled open the flaps of the box.

When she saw what was inside her gasp was deep and her hands flew to her mouth. She looked up at him in complete shock before reaching reverently into the box to take out one of the books that sat inside.

“Books.” She whispered, as she stared at the paperback in her hands. She reached into the box again and pulled out another book and then another and another until her arms were full of them.

She looked up at him, tears falling and her gaze rapturous. “Oh my god, Dean.”

Dean felt his face flush and he looked away, crossing his arms over his chest. “Just figured the classroom could use ‘em and they were just sitting there on the shelves. There’s a bunch of kids books underneath,” he said pointing inside the box. “And paper and pencils and some crayons, a few coloring books. There weren’t many of them so-”

He was interrupted as Y/N dropped the books back into the box and launched herself at him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and squeezed tight. He stood stock still for a minute before he patted her back awkwardly and dropped his arms back to his side.

She pulled back and brushed away her happy tears, sniffling loudly. “Sorry. I just…” She knelt down again and picked up another book, holding it tight to her chest. She shook her head. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed books. It’s been years since I’ve even seen one let alone had the chance to read one.”

She reached in for one of the children’s books and laughed. “Oh my gosh, the kids are gonna be ecstatic.”

Dean shrugged, thoroughly embarrassed by Y/N’s joy and gratitude. He cleared his throat before speaking. “There’s a limited supply of paper and pencils, and I have no idea how long it will be before we find more, if we ever do, so…”

He trailed off and Y/N put the books back into the box and folded the flaps closed again. “So, we’ll be sure to write very tiny, erase a lot, and wear the pencils down to little nubs.” She said as she stood and bent to heft the box up from the floor. Dean stepped forward to grab it from her as she staggered slightly beneath its weight.

“You’ll break your back.” Dean barked at her as he reached for the box.

But she just shook her head and turned away with the box still in her arms. “N’ah I’m stronger than I look.” She said, huffing and puffing as she dropped it onto the table.

Dean shook his head. Yeah, I bet you are. He thought.

After a moment Y/N turned and walked slowly back towards him. “So, I can’t exactly buy you dinner as a thank you. But if you bring your rations over to our tent, I can cook them all up for us.”

She smiled at him, friendly and sweet, but Dean was backing away. “No, that’s not necessary.”

“I know it isn’t, but it will make me feel good to do this one small favor for you in return for this amazingness.” She said with a wave towards the box.

Dean planned to say no, had it on the tip of his tongue but when he opened his mouth what came out was, “Okay.”

So barely an hour later he found himself sitting at her table with dinner laid out in front of him. It was a sufficiently celebratory meal of salted venison from an eight point buck the camp hunters had taken down in early summer, boiled potatoes, and a can of green beans that was older than Emma.

It was the best meal Dean had eaten in a long time.

After the food was finished and the dishes were washed, Y/N made them a cup of coffee and he sat drinking it as she settled Emma into bed with a kiss. His stomach was full of decent food, the coffee smelled old but still strong, and the sound of Y/N’s soft voice as she tucked her daughter in, was incredibly soothing. He found himself relaxing into his chair in a way he hadn’t in a very long time. His muscles lost some of their rigidity and he breathed out a long sigh, as though he’d been holding his breath for too long.

After a few minutes Y/N came back to the table and sat down with her own soft exhale. She took a sip of her coffee and then looked at Dean over the rim of her tin cup. “You know, I don’t think you really understand what you’ve done here.”

Dean cocked his head and raised an eyebrow, questioning her. She smiled and set down her cup, shifting slightly in her chair.

“Since all of this started, we’ve been on the move, Emma and I. In the beginning, when Emma was still a baby, I’d come across different groups of people and we’d travel together for a while or we’d manage to hole up somewhere for the winter and wait out the cold together. But inevitably the groups always fell away; sometimes we’d just decide to go in separate directions, but sometimes animosity or greed would take over and violence would erupt. People would fight over who was in charge and they’d fight over resources.” Y/N shook her head. “It almost always ended up a disaster.”

She shrugged. “So after a while, I just lit out on my own with Emma. It was scary as hell, of course - no back up, no partners, all on my own with a four year old. But it also meant no one stealing my stuff, or throwing me to the wolves at the first sign of trouble.”

She took another sip of coffee and Dean wondered at the shadows in her usually bright eyes. What stories in her past had created them?

Her voice was soft when she continued. “It’s been incredibly hard and there’s been,” her eyelashes fluttered and closed, “there's been a lot of bad.”

She set down her cup and sat back in her chair, rubbing at her eyes with her fingers like she was scratching out the images behind her eyelids.

When she looked at him again, her eyes were soft and warm. “So, to come here, to see what you’ve accomplished in just a few years?” Her voice was full of wonder. “Dean, it’s like a miracle. I mean you’ve made it safe here, at least a hell of a lot safer than anywhere else out there - there are guards protecting us! People work together, contribute their skills and strengths for the benefit of the group as well as themselves.”

She shook her head. “I haven’t seen anything like it in a very long time. What you’ve created here is an oasis.”

Dean snorted at that. “Oasis?” He asked incredulously. Her praise and wonderment made him feel an itchy kind of awkwardness. He didn’t deserve it.

But Y/N was nodding solemnly. “Yes. It’s a safe haven in a world filled with evil. What would you call it?”

Dean took a gulp of coffee and then licked his lips, looking at her for a moment before speaking. “Y/N this is only an oasis in the sense that it’s a mirage in a desert; it’s an illusion. We’re managing to get by through lucky choices and good timing. We push through from day to day, but I’m telling you this whole place could fall apart in an instant. One long, bad, winter, or one coordinated attack from another camp or a pack of Croats, and we’re done.”

He paused to try and let that sink in before continuing. “And the survivors here work together because it’s beneficial to them. But if things get desperate again,” he looked at her pointedly, “don’t think for one second that they'll hesitate to throw you to the wolves like all the others.” He shrugged. “It’s human nature, survival of the fittest, and anyone who thinks otherwise is gonna get trampled.”

He said it as a warning, still determined to dislodge the Pollyanna ideal of good and virtuous humanity from her mind.

But Y/N just smiled and leaned across the table to squeeze his hand. “Guess we’ll see. But in the meantime, you should be proud. No matter what happens, you’ve done good.”

Dean swallowed down the rest of his coffee in one gulp and stood up, pulling his hand away from her warm touch. He was desperate to get away from the softness and understanding in her gaze. He thanked her for cooking dinner and left quickly, promising himself as he walked back to his tent that he wasn’t going to do that again.

But as with most things to do with Y/N that decision didn’t last long, and soon enough that one evening turned into a bit of a ritual. Every few days or so Dean would show up with some of his rations and Y/N would combine them with what they had, and they’d all eat together at their tiny table.

Every time he left her tent, he told himself he’d had his last meal there with Y/N and Emma. Yet within a few days, he’d be back again. He told himself it was just something to break the monotony of camp life, just something a little different from the ordinary.

But the truth was he was beginning to crave the evenings spent across from Y/N, listening to her rattle on about her students and their achievements, or else answering her seemingly endless questions about the camp and how it had come to be. He even enjoyed listening to her talk to Emma, telling her stories before she tucked her in for the night.

Once the little girl was asleep, Dean usually hightailed it out of there, because without the kid as a buffer it became much harder to ignore Y/N’s inviting lips and tempting curves.

But one night, three weeks after returning home from the raid, Y/N followed him outside as he abruptly left the tent.

“Dean.” She called after him.

The sun had set almost an hour before and the night was dark and cold; Dean returned to her side and admonished her. “It’s freezing out here, go back inside.”

Y/N just rubbed her hands up and down her arms and shrugged. “I’m fine.”

He shook his head at her stubbornness, and then waited silently. When she didn’t say anything right away he spread his arms wide.

“What?” He asked impatiently.

“I just…” Y/N stuttered for a moment. “I just wanted to say that I really like when you come for dinner.”

Dean clenched his jaw as she looked up at him with heat in her gaze, an invitation in her eyes, plain as day. He told himself to walk away but instead, he raised his hand to trail his fingers down her cheek.

“You should go inside.” He warned her again, even as he lowered his head towards her. “S’cold.”

Y/N shook her head. “I’m very warm.” She smiled and licked her lips and it was his undoing.

He yanked her up against him and crushed her lips with his own. He plundered her mouth with his tongue, inhaling her sweet scent and hardening at the way she clutched the front of his jacket and whimpered softly. He moved his hands so that one clutched at her waist and the other one grabbed hold of the back of her head so he could keep her pressed to him tightly.

He didn't know how long he would have continued kissing her, or whether he might have taken things even further. But luckily there was a loud noise of something crashing somewhere in camp, followed by laughter.

The sound was like a bucket of cold water being poured on him and Dean ripped himself away from Y/N's mouth. They were both breathing heavily, panting really.

“Fuck.” Dean swore roughly before he turned abruptly and left. He fully admitted to himself that this time, he was definitely running away.

***

Dean barely slept and woke up the next day berating himself for the night before. For fuck’s sake he’d been making out with Y/N with her kid just on the other side of a canvas wall - kissing her in the wide open, where any other camper might have walked by. He didn’t need things to be more complicated than they were already.

As the morning wore on, he made up his mind to talk to Y/N that very afternoon. He'd just tell her straight out that what happened between them just couldn't happen again. It was only going to confuse things and make everything harder than it needed to be.

He nodded; he could do this. He was practical and he didn't hem and haw or tiptoe around things. He'd just tell her straight out how things were going to be.

He knew she'd be in the big cabin as the school day ended, so he walked over and stepped inside the door, hoping she'd be almost done for the day.

Ever since he brought her the books, she'd been reading to the kids at the end of every school day. Parents had started swinging by the school, ostensibly to meet their kids, but really, they wanted to watch their kids' faces and listen to their giggles as Y/N read the stories in funny voices and occasionally got the kids to join her in acting out silliness from the books.

But the crowd of parents and kids had gotten a bit too big for the tiny schoolroom, so on the last day of every week, Y/N had taken to reading to the kids and parents together in the big cabin. The adults usually sat on the floor behind the kids, keeping their hands busy with mending clothes or knitting, or else they stood at a table and worked on something like repairing holes in tents or making snares for the hunters. The work allowed them to justify their enjoyment of the stories.

As Dean walked inside now, Y/N was finishing up the storybook in her hand. He could see it was The Paper Bag Princess and Y/N was on the last page.

“‘Ronald’, said Elizabeth, ‘your clothes are really pretty and your hair is very neat.” Y/N read aloud in Elizabeth’s decisive voice.

“You look like a real prince. But you,” Y/N paused for effect, “are a bum.’”

All the kids were giggling as she read the last line.

“They didn't get married after all.”

The kids clapped and even the parents were chuckling at the way the paper bag princess had put the snooty prince in his place.

“I love that story!!” A little redheaded girl in the front gushed.

“It's my mommy's favorite story.” Emma said loudly. “Right Mommy?”

Y/N nodded. “When I was your age for sure.”

Dean pushed away from the wall he was leaning on, trying to signal Y/N so she'd hurry up and finish. But the little girl in the front demanded her full attention as she bounced up to lean against Y/N's knees where she sat in the chair.

“Cause your mommy read it to you?”

Dean was seriously considering ordering everyone out. He wanted to get this over with.

But Y/N's next words stopped him dead in his tracks.

She was shaking her head as she tucked the little girl's red hair behind her ear. “No, my mommy passed away a long time ago when I was just a baby. So she never really got to read me stories.”

Y/N kept talking, but Dean only heard a hot, pulsing, rushing sound in his ears. A million thoughts were slamming through his mind at once as he felt a cold shiver run through him.

He yelled over the sound of the people around him beginning to chatter and get ready to leave.

“How?”

Y/N looked up at his bellow, her face shocked. “What?”

Dean was aware of his surroundings only just enough to brusquely order everyone out of the cabin.

“Now!” He barked and the mood in the room shifted quickly as parents grabbed up their children and gave The Boss a wide berth as his eyes burned at Y/N like green fire.

Everyone disappeared and it was just Y/N, Dean and Emma left.

Dean felt his heart hammering in his chest as he took a step back from where she stood.

Y/N's face was completely confused and clearly perplexed. “Dean what-”

He cut her off. “How?” He bellowed again before swallowing and asking in a slightly quieter tone. “How did your mother die when you were a baby?”

Y/N shook her head. “Why? What are you-”

“Answer me.” Dean's voice wasn't loud, but his words were clipped and he could hear the steel behind his words, feel the cold seeping into his bones as the tumblers in his mind fell into place, opening the lock concealing the reason behind Y/N’s miraculous survival of the virus.

Y/N blinked rapidly for a moment before exhaling slowly. “It was a - a fire. Some kind of electrical short or something.”

“In your nursery.” Dean said softly.

Y/N shrugged, her face scrunched up in confusion. “I'm not sure. My dad didn't really like to talk about it.”

As he stood staring at the woman with the bloodshot eyes, a moment from so long ago, once again from that first time they'd faced the Croatoan virus, materialized in his memory.

Again his brother's face bloomed in his mind, and he heard his own voice speaking.

“I swear I'm gonna lose sleep over this one. I mean why here, why now?”

And Sam's bewildered reply. “And why was I immune?”

Well now he knew why his brother had been immune. Because Yellow Eyes had wanted him to be, to make him a better soldier, a better, more powerful psychic to lead his demon army. And of course, he’d needed to be sure Lucifer's true vessel was strong and able enough to withstand the demon germ warfare he planned to release upon the world as a way to kickstart the apocalypse.

Dean stared at Y/N, angry beyond belief. Angry at her and what she really was, angry at himself for taking so long to figure it out and for falling for her game, and unbelievably angry at the universe for proving once again that it was laughing at him.

His voice was ice when he spoke. “What kind of psychic are you? What can you do?” He shook his head. “What have you done already?"

Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters:

@lyarr24

@lacilou

@deans-spinster-witch

@globetrotter28

@suckitands33

@akshi8278

@evznackles

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@candy-coated-misery0731

@envyaurora95

@spnwoman

@deans-baby-momma

Dean Fics Only:

@roonthelittlespoon920

@slamminmine

@zepskies

Any/All Fics Regardless of Character or Fandom:

@kazsrm67

@slut-for-evans-stan

@sexyvixen7

@nancymcl

@waywardcheshire

Everything Incl. Fan Edits:

@k-slla

@leigh70

@eevvvaa

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@foxyjwls007

@notinthislife50

@roseblue373

@mishkatelwarriorgoddess

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@all-alone-he-turns-to-stone

@deangirl96

@hobby27

#dean winchester x reader #endverse!dean #endverse!dean x reader #dean winchester fan fic #endverse #endverse series #endverse!dean series #dean winchester angst #dean winchester smut #dean winchester fluff

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kiss-me-cill-me · 2 months

Text

Now We Pay The Price | Pt. 2

Start with Pt. 1 HERE!

Pairing: Jonathan Crane x Reader

Word Count: 5.4k

Warnings: ALL OF THE SAME WARNINGS AS PART 1, plus more angst, some fluff, general dark themes, depiction of a stick n' poke tattoo, violence, makeshift weapons, fear toxin, Crane spikes someone's drink (not the reader's)

A/N: Back by mildly popular demand lol :) First, I have to give a huge thank you to @cillianslvt for all of her help with brainstorming, concept bouncing, and song picking! She gave me the perfect inspo for this part: Supercut by Lorde.

I wanted to do something a bit different here, so this is told in alternating cuts between the fallout from part 1 (written in past tense) and flashbacks to the reader's college days (written in present tense just to be confusing lol). I probably will be writing one more part for this, but it might be a while before it's out because I kind of want to take a small break from angst haha. But, I hope you enjoy this part!

***Please read the warnings before continuing. Minors DNI***

Somewhere out in the echoing hallway, an alarm buzzed.

“Lights out in five minutes!”

The guard’s booming voice was almost too muffled to understand through the thick metal door. But you weren’t paying enough attention for it to matter. It was the same routine, for the hundredth time. You didn’t need an announcement to know that you were about to be plunged into the dark.

And besides, you had more important things to worry about.

Your fingers traced over the hearts that still littered your bedsheets. Contained to one of the corners for now, but wild and scattered, as if they might be about to spill out over the rest of the white cotton at any moment. Unrestrained.

You clenched your teeth, trying hard to focus on something other than the hailstorm of tremors that seemed ready to wrack your body. Your skin was prickling. If you opened your mouth, you weren’t sure if what came out would be a sob or a scream. You didn’t particularly want to find out.

The familiar sound of a key in the lock was enough to pull you out of your stupor. Quickly, you covered the doodles again, and whipped your head toward the door, hoping.

But no. It was nobody. Some faceless orderly, sent to give you the pills that you never took, if you could get away with hiding them.

Tonight, though, you decided to behave. You had certainly been causing enough trouble lately. And besides, if you were being honest, you could use them. Your mood had been a complete mess all day, and a little stability would be nice, for a change.

You swallowed your pride along with the pills, and flopped back onto the mattress. As soon as the orderly was gone, you inched the sheets back down, exposing the blue stains. Tomorrow was laundry day, and you knew that you wouldn’t be able to enjoy them for much longer.

Seconds later, the lights flicked out, and you were left alone with your memories.

The asphalt beneath your feet feels like it’s not even there as you practically skip down the driveway, and you’re not sure how gravity still has a hold on you by the time your hand wrenches open the car door.

“Hey!” You smile as you climb in, whipping around quickly to fasten your seatbelt. Maybe that will be enough to ground you, but it doesn’t seem likely. “Thanks for picking me up.”

“You took long enough to get out here,” he replies, slightly snarky.

But when you finally look up at him, his soft half-smile makes your heart melt, and your legs and arms feel even more weightless than ever. His blue eyes peer over at you from just below the rim of his glasses, and he tilts his head while he waits for you to respond.

“Fuck off, Jonathan,” you laugh, waving a hand in his direction.

He shakes his head, shifting to take hold of the wheel.

As he starts the car, the two of you sit in silence for a moment, and you use the opportunity to take a closer look at him. He’s bundled up tightly in his jacket. A slight chill permeates the air, though you feel perfectly warm sitting next to him.

“I don’t know how you can stand driving around without listening to music,” you say suddenly, reaching for the radio.

It takes you a minute to find anything worth listening to. Static mixed intermittently with snippets of sound fills the car as you carefully turn the dial, until finally landing on something you know. Satisfied, you sit back.

“I don’t know how you can stand listening to this,” Jonathan laughs. “I mean, are you even hearing these lyrics?”

“I like the lyrics!” you insist. “What’s wrong with them?”

“They’re just cheesy,” he says, dismissively.

You roll your eyes, and settle back with your arm resting against the car door. Before long, your head is bobbing along to the music, and you start to hum.

You’ve only known Jonathan for a few weeks, but already it’s become nearly impossible to ignore the way your heart pounds when you’re next to him. It’s nerve wracking - to think he might not feel that way about you. But you don’t let yourself imagine that possibility too often. It’s better to stay positive, and look to your future together. You honestly can’t imagine things any other way.

At the start of the chorus, your humming turns gradually into words - quiet at first, and then louder when Jonathan doesn’t try to stop you. Soon, you’re singing at full volume.

“You know, distracted driving is the number one cause of car accidents,” he informs you.

When you look over, you notice the small smile that tugs at the corner of his lips.

“But music improves mood and cognition,” you shoot back, interrupting your singing to give him a slight shove. “Shouldn’t you know that, Mr. Psychology Major?”

Jonathan scoffs, but mercifully keeps his mouth shut when you open yours to start singing again, rolling down the window to scream into the night.

Your eyes, tight with heavy sleep, shot suddenly open, to be met by the darkness of your cell. Breath heavy, you tried to remember the dream you’d been having. Whatever it was, it had gotten you worked up. So much for the sedatives doing you any good; maybe Crane hadn’t actually upped your dose like he’d threatened to do.

Or he had, and this was just your body’s paradoxical reaction to the sudden increase. Not that you had been taking the regular dose with any consistency.

You considered getting up, but what was the point in that? There was nowhere to go but from one corner of the small room to the other, and you had spent enough time pacing back and forth to last a lifetime.

The small window set high up on the wall of your cell let in a sliver of light, just briefly, as a rotating searchlight made its round, and you closed your eyes again.

The university’s library is calming, in a way. The seemingly endless stacks of books reach out to greet you as you run your hands over their spines, walking slowly down one row and then another.

You’re looking for something specific, but not a book. You know that he always comes here at this time.

Jonathan is crouched down to reach something on a low shelf when you finally see him. You hover, half-hidden, at the end of the row where he’s kneeling, and watch as he flips through the first few pages of a book. Satisfied, he stands up, and you saunter into the aisle to join him.

“Hey,” you call, softly. “Thought I might find you here.”

Jonathan tucks the book under his arm, and looks at you curiously for a moment.

“Hey,” he echoes, apprehensive. “Don’t you have class right now?”

“Do I?” you ask, stopping next to him. “Whoops. Whatcha reading?”

“Nothing. Just a book for class. Unlike some people I know, I take academics seriously.”

As he talks, he tilts his head to the side and takes a step closer to you, crowding you back against the bookshelves. He’s smiling. Just having fun with you; you’re sure of it. But you can’t stop the warm rush that spreads over your cheeks.

You try to straighten up under his gaze, bringing the tip of your nose close to his.

“I take this stuff seriously, too,” you insist. “Here, I’ll prove it. What’re you studying?”

Before giving him a chance to respond, you reach down and snatch the book from his hand. Brushing a thumb over the cover, you consider the title.

“Phobias, huh?” you muse. “No offense, Jonathan. But you’re not very scary.”

You beam as you watch a blush creep over his cheeks. He’s been doing that around you more often, and every time you notice it, your heart swells.

“You don’t think so?” he drones, taking another step closer.

He’s nearly on top of you as you press back into the row of books, and you feel your heart leap into your throat. Not out of fear, but for an entirely different reason.

“Nope,” you challenge. “Not scary at all.”

“Hm. Guess I’ll have to try harder then.”

He snatches the book back and starts to move away from you, but before he can get too far, both of your hands shoot out. Your fingers grab onto his sweater, and faster than you have a chance to think, suddenly your lips are pressing against his. Eyes squeezed shut so you don’t have to face his reaction, you hold him. But when you let go of his shirt, he stays there for a few seconds longer, before pulling away.

“That was scary,” you breathe, finally daring to meet his cold eyes.

But, what you see there is softness, mixed with slight shock. The piercing, frost-blue that normally seems to slice through you has taken on a watery quality, as if something has melted, if just for a moment.

You take a deep breath as Jonathan leans back in.

By the time the orderlies had started to wheel their huge bin of laundry down the narrow hall, your white sheets were already torn off and crumpled at the foot of your bed. You weren’t about to take the risk of anyone else seeing the hearts you’d drawn. This way, they were unlikely to be noticed. At least until after they’d already been mixed with all of the other patients’ laundry, untraceable to you.

Before, the worst that could happen was you losing your pen - a sorry excuse for entertainment, but nothing vital. Now, losing that same pen meant losing your one chance at freedom as well, and you weren’t prepared to give that up.

You stood in the far corner of the room, watching silently as two men came in to collect your sheets. They didn’t comment on the fact that you’d stripped your own bed - perhaps too caught up in their meaningless conversation to notice.

When they left, you finally felt able to breathe again. You exhaled, trying to push every last trace of air out of your lungs so that you could start fresh again.

Sitting back down on your new set of sheets, you ran your hand over the blank space that no longer bore even a faint trace of love.

“What are you doing?” Jonathan asks, leaning over your shoulder to peer down at whatever has you so occupied.

“Giving myself a tattoo,” you reply easily.

“What?”

“It’s just a little heart - see?”

You carefully hold up your wrist to him, showing off the half finished lobe of a heart. One side of it, anyway. It’s slow going, but you’re determined to take your time; to not rush through the impulsive decision you’ve made.

“Why would you do that to yourself?”

“Because I felt like it,” you reply. “Do I need another reason?”

“Did you at least sterilize your wrist - and the needle?” he sighs.

“I used some hand sanitizer. M’sure that’s good enough.”

Jonathan pinches the bridge of his nose, putting his other hand on his hip.

“You’re going to hurt yourself,” he complains.

“Well, it’s not like I can’t stop now, though - right?” you say, playfully. “You’re always telling me not to leave things half finished.”

Jonathan sits down in the chair next to you, as you go back to carefully maneuvering the needle. Your tongue sticks out from the corner of your mouth, frozen in concentration. You jump, just a fraction of an inch, as the sharp point breaches your skin.

“Give me that,” Jonathan mutters.

He’s already swiped the needle away from you, and is holding your wrist down securely against the table as he inspects your work.

“This isn’t going to heal nicely,” he informs you.

“I don’t care.”

To your surprise, he dips the needle into the little pot of ink that’s sitting on the table between you, and then lines up the point to continue.

“You’re pushing it in way too deep,” he says, peering over his glasses.

When he presses down, the sharp end of the needle barely seems to graze you. It doesn’t hurt so much when he does it. Jonathan’s thumb brushes over the flesh of your palm, soothing you.

“You’re good at this,” you comment. “You’ll make a good doctor someday.”

Jonathan tries to hide his smile, but you catch the small curl of his lips despite the way he’s hunched over, focusing on your tattoo. The second jab is just as painless as the first, and you smile back.

“This isn’t exactly what I picture myself doing for work.” He laughs - just a small hum, but it’s there.

“Right - you want to study the fear of needles. Not be the one jabbing patients.”

“Something like that,” he agrees.

The two of you sit, huddled close in the silence; you watching Jonathan work as he gingerly uses the needle. It’s strangely intimate, and you feel closer to him than you have in a long time.

Not because you’ve spent too much time apart. On the contrary, you’ve been seeing each other more often than ever. But the more time you spend with him, the sharper you seem to feel his small absences. It has, lately, started to seem like you need to see Jonathan more and more often just to feel normal; like you’re in danger of something bad happening when he’s not there.

“Thank you,” you say.

“For what?”

“The tattoo means more, now that you’re the one doing it.”

Jonathan keeps his head bowed, trying desperately not to let you see his expression. The tips of his ears give him away, though, as they turn a bright pink behind strands of hair that have fallen away as he leans down.

“Jonathan?” “Hm?”

“It’s polite to say ‘you’re welcome’ when someone thanks you,” you tease.

As he looks up to narrow his eyes at you, you take the chance to lean in and press a kiss to his cheek.

The harsh white fluorescents buzzed over your head as you leaned back in your uncomfortable chair. You’d sat in this same plastic seat for probably dozens of therapy sessions. Not once had the miserable thing ever done anything other than give you back pain.

“Are you paying attention?” the doctor in front of you asked.

“No,” you replied.

What was the use in lying, when it was obvious to both of you?

The doctor hummed in annoyance, shuffled some papers, and frowned at her clipboard.

“Well I suggest you start,” she began, “because what we’re trying to do here is very important. You know your appeal is in the process of being reviewed, and…”

You tuned her out, turning your attention to the much more important matter of planning your escape. Even just thinking those words made you feel strangely giddy. This was something that happened in movies and cheap paperback novels; not real life. But, you had made up your mind, and there would be no going back now. You were going to rebuild your life with the person who mattered most, and doing that meant that you needed to get out of here.

You thought of the ballpoint pen, now modified and hidden, deep within the bones of your mattress. It had taken patience to sharpen the plastic casing against the concrete, and patience was something you didn’t have much of these days. But in the end, it would all be worth it.

“...three counts of manslaughter, and two more of - are you listening?” the doctor repeated.

“Why should I? We both know that I’ve heard this a thousand times,” you sighed.

The doctor, equally as exasperated, crossed her arms and rolled her eyes.

“Whatever. It’s your life.”

“My life doesn’t exist in here,” you whispered. “Not the one I want, anyway.”

“Well, it’s the one you’ve got, so maybe you ought to start acting like it,” she suggested.

You ignored her, and retreated back into the world that only existed inside your memories. Yours… and his, if you were lucky.

The room is dark and full of music. Music, and bodies - swaying in time to the rhythm; draped over furniture or pressed up against walls, as lips meet and hands wander. You pass by two people who look like they’re three seconds away from ripping each other’s clothes off, and duck under the raised elbow of somebody else as they pump their fist in the air. A clamor erupts as you pass; some conversation you’re not part of that’s full of hollered laughter and shouts.

You’re looking for Jonathan, amidst all the colors and flashing lights. You’d left him several minutes ago to go and find the bathroom, and got turned around on your way back. The slight buzz of alcohol makes your limbs a bit looser than usual, and you pause to savor the deep thrum that emanates from the sound system. As you close your eyes, your feet sway a little, and you smile.

Jonathan is never interested in going to parties with you, but for whatever reason, he had accepted the invitation tonight. You like to think it’s because he just wants to spend time with you, even if loud, messy gatherings aren’t usually his idea of a good time.

Finally, you find your way back to the couch where you left him. And there he is, smiling that soft half-smile you know so well, from the hundreds of times it’s made your heart do somersaults in your chest.

You frown. Scowl.

Jonathan is leaning forward, hands on his legs as he talks to another woman. Smiles at her. You stop short in your tracks, and watch from a distance as Jonathan tilts his head to her ear, whispering something.

The girl stands up, giggles while she looks down at him for a moment, and then walks off. You see red; a crimson wash that feels slightly too familiar as it drapes over you.

Jonathan, still on the couch, smiles for a moment longer before reaching into his pocket. The girl has moved on by now, and you watch as the affable grin is wiped neatly from Jonathan’s face, replaced by something blank and more difficult to categorize.

There’s a tiny glass tube in his hand. You can’t see what it is exactly, but you can make out the way he removes a cap, and then brings his hand close to the red plastic cup that’s sitting on the table in front of him, right where the woman had been.

Your rage propels you forward, and without time to think things through, you’ve grabbed the sleeve of his jacket before you even realize you’ve reached him.

“Shit- Oh. It’s you,” Jonathan mumbles.

“What the hell are you doing?” you hiss.

Jonathan looks at your hand on his arm. The vial, now empty and still pinched between his fingers, hidden from the rest of the crowd. And then back up to your face.

“This isn’t what it looks like,” he begins.

“What are you doing?” you repeat, your voice wobbling louder.

Jonathan’s eyes dart off to the side, and he stands up quickly. Suddenly, his hand is in yours and he’s dragging you off, heading for a set of glass doors that lead to the back patio.

“Let’s go somewhere more private,” he says, and you can barely hear him muttering over the sound of the screeching music and the pounding, frantic whir that seems to have taken over your head.

By the time you’re outside, the door shut firm behind you, you haven’t calmed down a bit.

“Jonathan-”

“I swear, I’m not doing anything bad,” he interjects. “I know that it… probably looks like I’m-”

“Why her?” you say, softly.

You can’t even stand to look at him as you speak. Your whole chest feels impossibly heavy; as if it’s consuming the rest of your body, piece by dissolving piece.

“...What?” Jonathan looks at you curiously, as you feel yourself fall even more fully apart.

“Why her, when I’m right here, huh?” you demand, tears squeezing out from behind your damp eyelashes, even as you try to blink them back. “I’m yours, Jonathan. I’ve been yours. All you have to do is ask.”

“That’s not… God, I’m not trying to-”

“You don’t even have to try with me!” you cry, voice rising up into a frenzy. Your hands fly to slam against him, pushing him by the shoulders. “You’ve never had to-”

You cut yourself off, and cradle your wrist to your chest. The tattoo that he gave you is settled close by to your heart, and you bring your other hand up to trace absently over the ink that mirrors it.

“Listen to me,” Jonathan says, taking hold of your shoulders. You look up at him, salty tears still welled in your eyes, starting to spill down over your cheeks. “That’s not what I’m doing. This is just… research.”

“Research?” you echo.

“Yes. That’s all,” he assures you. Both of you have started to calm down, and the pressure of his hands on your shoulders finally becomes noticeable. “It’s for… how do I phrase this?”

The sounds of the party are muffled out here, but suddenly a sharp scream rises over the music. Both of you turn to peer through the glass doors, and you catch a brief glimpse of the woman from earlier, just as the red plastic cup falls from her hand. She claws at her face, and sinks to the floor, still screaming.

Your focus shifts back to Jonathan, and you watch as he stares through the glass, his eyes frigid and, suddenly, calculating. His hands are still on your shoulders, and you feel as his grip tightens slightly, as if his fingers are itching to do… something. You can’t say quite what.

“...Fear,” you breathe, quietly.

You aren’t sure exactly what’s going on, but some sort of vague understanding has started to seep into your nerves, mending the frays that had threatened to form. Like healing salve, soothed over all of the tiny rips and tears that had nearly pulled you apart, only seconds ago.

“Yes,” he agrees. “That’s all I wanted her for. I swear.”

It takes you a moment to realize he’s looking at you again, a serious expression on his strained face. His eyes seem to bore into yours, but it’s comforting, just to feel like he’s burrowing into you.

The commotion inside becomes louder; more shouts of alarm rising to join the first, and you hear something crash to the ground. But you’re not paying attention to that anymore; you’re swimming in Jonathan’s eyes as the tears slowly dry from yours.

“Jonathan?” you ask. “Can we go home?”

He turns to look again at the riot that’s quickly developing inside; the bass of the music replaced now by shrill cries that have risen above everything. For a moment, you think he’s about to refuse, and the lump in your throat almost tears through the delicate flesh of your neck.

“Sure. Let’s go home,” he agrees.

You walk, hand in hand, away from the party. Looping around the house and down the sidewalk, your fingers intertwine with his in the night air. You smile, and grab onto Jonathan’s arm, pulling him closer.

Today was the day.

You pulled your sleeve down, trying to cover the now-sharpened pen casing that was held tight in your sweaty hand. The tip of your finger brushed over the point, as you went over the plan in your head again.

If you could manage to be stealthy enough, you wouldn’t even need the pen. Not that you would hesitate to use it, but there was a certain amount of risk that you’d prefer to avoid if at all possible. Things could get messy, and that would be sure to draw attention. For once, you didn’t want Crane to notice what you were doing.

You stayed close to the wall of the cafeteria, practically hugging the stone as you walked briskly. It was important to be fast, but not too fast.

“What are you doing?” asked a sharp voice behind you.

You would have spun faster than either of you could blink, pen at the ready to plunge into his neck. If only you hadn’t recognized the voice.

Crane grabbed you roughly by the shoulder, and you screamed silently behind your eyes.

“Nothing,” you said calmly. “Going for a walk.”

“You’re not allowed to do that,” Crane sighed, already dragging you to face him. His expression was just as drab as the bricks that now pressed into your back. “What’s in your hand?”

Your finger flicked over the sharp point again. This was the one possibility that you hadn’t imagined, of course. The one opponent your weapon was useless against, all because you couldn’t bring yourself to use it.

With your jaw set and shoulders squared, you straightened up to face him. You wouldn’t shy away from his eyes, even if looking at them meant facing the disappointment that lurked, not-so-subtly beneath their surface.

Crane grew impatient awaiting your answer, and grabbed you by the wrist. You let him. It was useless to resist, and the two of you glared at each other as he yanked your hand and your fingers fell open. The story was written over your palm, almost as clearly as if you had used the pen to record it across your own flesh.

Crane picked up the wrecked pen, considered the jagged edge of the plastic, and pocketed it. Without another word, he turned and dragged you out of the cafeteria, heading toward your cell.

Jonathan’s hand in yours is restless; seeming to flutter as his thumb drifts absentmindedly, rubbing back and forth in a way that might be more soothing for him than it is to you. You want to help him, but you’re not sure how. You’ve noticed the anxieties that have seemed to overwhelm him lately, and you wish there was more you could offer him.

“Maybe you should take a break,” you suggest. “We could watch a movie or something. Go for a walk?”

Jonathan shakes his head, and tears his hand away to go back to scribbling on the pad in front of him. The paper is already littered with letters and symbols that mean nothing to you. Three vials full of pale liquid - Jonathan’s pet project - roll gently back and forth on the table.

“I can’t get it right, and I don’t know why,” he snaps, frustrated. “I need to run more tests, but…”

“I could test it for you,” you offer.

Jonathan looks at you with a mix of shock and, maybe, revulsion, and you feel yourself shrink back into your seat.

“I wouldn’t ask you to do that,” he says.

“You don’t have to ask,” you reply. “I’d do anything for you.”

His expression morphs into something that’s harder to read. That’s been happening more and more often lately, and it’s started to panic you when it does. You know him so well, but suddenly, there are sides to him that seem almost foreign to you. You bring a hand up to cup his sharp cheek, and the smile stretched over your own face feels plastic.

“Us against the world,” you remind him.

Jonathan places his hand over yours, only for a moment before pulling away entirely.

“I just… want to know I can do something,” he says. “Something I set my own mind to.”

“You can,” you assure him. “You have.”

“My whole life, I’ve felt as if I’m just reacting to things that are outside of my control,” he continues, almost as if he hadn’t heard you. “I just want to understand why.”

Emotion has crept into his voice, and your first instinct is to pull back. You ignore it. Instead, you place a kiss on his temple, and he lets his head fall to rest on your shoulder. The room is silent for a moment, as you wrap both your arms around him and try to think of something to say.

“You know I’d be lost without you, right?” you ask, gently.

“That’s because you have a dysfunctional attachment style.”

You stop. His words, flat and unemotional, pierce through you as if he had stabbed instead of spoken them. You can feel the ground opening up at your feet, and struggle to reassert yourself.

“That’s not true. You… don’t mean that,” you flounder.

“Maybe I don’t,” he agrees, halfheartedly. “Who knows anymore.”

Your heart aches. You hate that he’s talking like this is the end of something. A foregone conclusion that’s just out of his grasp, but that he doesn’t even care to reach for. A sentence on a page, half-finished but forgotten.

“You’ve been working too hard,” you decide. “You’re tired.”

“I am tired.”

“Let’s go to bed, then,” you suggest.

He nods, and you take hold of his hand to guide him, the dark ink of your tattoo pressed up against the blank space on his wrist.

Back in your cell, Crane didn’t bother to lock the door behind him for once. Instead, he stood directly in front of it, hands on his hips as he stared down at you.

“I would say I’m shocked, but I’m not,” he sighed, voice already grinding against itself. “But, what I can’t figure out is this. What gave you the idea that this would go well for you?”

You didn’t answer.

“It’s not as if I don’t monitor you.”

Normally, the admission that he’d been paying attention to you would have made your heart flutter. But now, it felt like there was nothing more than a pit in your chest. The same one that was always there, longing for something that could fill it without being swallowed.

“You’re lucky it was me who found you, and not somebody else.” He moved one hand to pinch at the bridge of his nose, just like he always had. For as long as you’d known him. “Don’t you ever stop and think before you act?”

That was insulting. You’d spent plenty of time thinking about this. In fact, it was all you’d been focusing on for weeks - at least when your mind was clear enough to focus.

And really, he was one to talk. How many times had you helped him crawl out of one failed situation or another? It wasn’t fair for him to talk like everything he did went perfectly, when both of you knew very well that it didn’t.

“Don’t have anything to say?” Crane pried.

You felt anger swell furiously within you, and - as if to prove the point he’d just made - you surged forward without thinking. Crane didn’t have any time to react, and you pressed your lips up against his in a harsh kiss that felt sickeningly void of love. Your cold fingers grabbed at the front of his sweater, and you felt your lips crush into your teeth, desperately searching for some hint of the spark that you felt certain was still there.

Crane scrambled, his back pressed against the hard door, and finally tore you away from him.

“What are you doing?” he spat.

Your eyes were downcast, unable to meet his, and you bit the cracked skin of your lips.

“Who knows anymore,” you replied, echoing his words from long ago.

“You need to control yourself,” Crane hissed. “If you can’t, I’m not going to keep making excuses for you.”

His words might as well have just echoed off the stone walls, vibrating in an empty cell. You weren’t listening. You weren’t even there anymore.

Fleeting as a beam of light.

Crane collected himself and then left, departing just as the sleek ribbons of past life came to wrap over you again.

You woke, not realizing that you’d fallen asleep. You weren’t sure how long it had been since Crane left, but, judging by the way the lights were already turned out, it had been hours.

Automatically, your hand went to the top corner of your mattress, intent on blindly tracing over the hearts that had once been there on the sheets. But of course, they weren’t anymore. Instead, though, you heard a clatter as something fell to the floor.

That was odd. Certainly, you hadn’t left anything there this morning. It wasn’t as if you had any possessions to leave.

Groping in the dark, your fingers slid across the floor. Finally, you found it, and held the object up close to your face.

A key.

Your lips curled as you held tight to the metal.

Read Pt. 3 HERE!

#jonathan crane x reader #cillian murphy x reader #jonathan crane #angst #LemmyFics

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flightfoot · 3 months

Text

ML Fanfic Recs for 2023: 20K - 40K words

So I’ve been going through and adding particularly good fics I’ve read throughout the year. Only Complete fics, of course. Enjoy!

Alliance!Adrien’s AI is self-writing, enabling him to grow and change and adapt. As he learns and starts analyzing some of his own systems, he finds some disquieting correlations. Why are there such strong connections between akuma attacks and the Alliance network?

Fu keeps on trying to give Marinette Miraculouses. Marinette refuses to cooperate.

Chat is happy with the person Fu chose to succeed him as Guardian, but confused. Why did he choose Multimouse?

One of Hawk Moth’s akuma attacks ends tragically, with many dead, Adrien in critical condition, and Chat Noir MIA. Alya’s prepared to go to extremes to save the people she cares about, if it comes to it.

In Kuro Neko, Adrien decides to seal off his more rebellious, wilder side, in order to make himself into the perfect partner for Ladybug. This has unintended consequences.

Chat Noir suddenly turns on Ladybug, joining up with Monarch as Cat Walker. Marinette’s devastated. At least she still has Adrien by her side.

Nino offers to fake-date Adrien in order to get the paparazzi off his back. He starts to wish it wasn’t fake.

All this and more below the break!

---

The Ghost in the Machine by @jheqiawrites

As part of this function, Adrien knew about Monarch, the akuma butterflies, the victims, and, of course Ladybug and Cat Noir, the heroes of Paris. He was authorized to contact the Ladyblog as well as the citywide alert system if one of his platforms was active during an akuma manifestation, allowing his friends to get somewhere safe until Ladybug and Cat Noir could deal with the situation

While the necessity of these functions was disconcerting, it was programmed to be his routine so he gradually grew used to the inconsistencies. After all, humans tended to be selfish, highly inconsistent, and often flighty, but once you had observed them for a while an intelligence such as his could begin to see the patterns.

That is until she came online.

This is just a beautiful, though bittersweet story. I adore how Alliance!Adrien grows and changes throughout the story, how he develops as a person. He starts off not being able to figure out what he’s feeling, needing to make new modules in order to try to process the emotions he has welling up, and not totally understanding his own reactions. But as time goes on he grows and gets a better handle on himself. This isn’t an “evil AI” story, he’s just a person who’s slowly figuring out who he is and how to handle himself.

Not that it’s entirely about Adrien Alliance figuring out his own emotions, there’s other things going on as well. He’s worried about why there seems to be weird surges in the Alliance Network right before akumas attack, for instance, and why the details about the reason for that seem to be hidden from him, making him more paranoid about the Alliance system the more he looks into it...

It’s just... it’s really good and absolutely worth a read.

---

Thanks, But No by @pauliestorylover

For every miraculous that Fu cupped in his palms, an image of the same blue-eyed girl flashed through his mind. Marinette Dupain-Cheng was born to hold the miraculous—she resonated with every single one of them far better than even the late Celestial Guardian, and it was Fu’s duty as the last Guardian not to allow such talent to slip through his hands.

Too bad Marinette wasn’t on the same page.

Or; au where Master Fu keeps throwing miraculous at Marinette hoping one will stick, Marinette goes around handing out miraculous like candy, and Wayzz has never seen anything so ridiculous in his millennia-long lifespan.

This one’s fun. Everyone except for Adrien ends up with a different Miraculous than in canon, and it’s really interesting to see how they all adapt. Marinette’s thorough noping out is pretty funny too, and there’s some sweet bits of Adrino and Alyanette in here!

---

The Power of Love by @nedjsmlfavs

In which Ladybug announces that she’s pregnant via her long term boyfriend and Chat Noir is a supportive partner. After all, he can hardly be upset when he’s been dating his Princess for years!

A different take on the show’s tagline (“The Power of Love Always so Strong”) written for Valentine’s day 2023.

This is just a sweet, fluffy fic about Ladybug and Chat Noir finding out they’re having a baby, revealing to each other, getting married, and becoming parents. Gabriel actually tries to do better here, as he does actually care about getting to know his grandchild, and realizes that he can’t undo this timeline without undoing his granddaughter’s existence as well.

---

Radio Silence by @into-september

When an inexplicable change between Marinette and Adrien brings the two closer than ever, Alya is left on the outside of a secret too confounding to be about cheesemaking or puppy love.

[No S4 AU]

This is a wonderful Alya-centric fic, with her just being baffled by Marinette’s and Adrien’s newfound closeness. But it’s not all about her being puzzled by the Lovesquare. Things really get rolling when Lila makes her entrance and Marinette and Adrien are particularly hostile to her, with Alya being confused about it and thinking there must be a misunderstanding here, somewhere, even with Lila saying something she KNOWS can’t be true - partially because she doesn’t want to believe she’s been fooled all this time.

But this isn’t a saltfic. Alya’s treated like a full person, and her perspective and thoughts are given credence. She and Marinette talk things out in depth, with both of them feeling badly for accidentally hurting the other person, and reassuring each other (Marinette also told a lie, though unbeknownst to Alya, it was connected to her being a superhero. Alya, however, didn’t know that, and just knew that Marinette lied to her for no clear reason), and they make up. It’s really nice and treats the characters with love and respect.

It’s got a lot of similarities to The Investigation by @11jj11, so if you liked that fic, you’ll probably like this one too.

---

I’ll give myself a name (something stupid and pretentious) by @bbutterflies

Nino looked at the number and didn’t recognize it. Usually he wouldn’t answer, but he had nothing better to do – and could still really use a distraction – so he did. “Hello?”

“Hey, Nino.”

Nino stood up quickly, chest tightening. He knew that voice. He’d been waiting to hear it again for over two years. “Adrien?” he whispered.

“Yeah. It’s me."

When Monarch is defeated (and revealed to be Gabriel Agreste), Chat Noir immediately goes missing. Adrien disappears not long after. When Adrien finally shows up in Paris again, Nino would do anything to make sure he doesn't disappear again.

Ah this is lovely, Adrien’s been in a lot of emotional turmoil since Monarch’s defeat, convinced that everyone would hate him, SHOULD hate him, for not realizing that his father was the villain, and should hate him even more for disappearing like he does. But slowly Marinette and Nino get through to him, convince him that they just want him back.

And also Adrien and Nino smooch. Multiple times. So that’s a bonus XD.

---

The New Guardian Is... Multimouse? by The_Rabbit42

During the events of Miracle Queen, Master Fu passes on the role of guardian to a surprising successor... Multimouse! Marinette is frustrated, Alya is confused, and Chat Noir is oddly pleased. How will this affect Marinette's friendships and partnership on both sides of her identity? How will this affect Adrien's view of the girls in his life? And how long will they keep it together?

I adore this fic! It diverges from the season 3 ending, with Multimouse - who Chat knows is Marinette, becoming Guardian instead of Ladybug. Which leads to some ripple effects, like Marinette not confessing her identity to Alya, since she’s able to get some support from Chat when he drops by her house. Not that that stops tension from building between Ladybug and Chat Noir, since she won’t just let Chat go and get a Miraculous from Marinette during a battle, and she won’t tell him why, leading him to think that she just dislikes Marinette or doesn’t trust him to get Miraculous like she does. But even while all this tension is building between Ladybug and Chat Noir, Chat’s still able to talk to Marinette, air his feelings in ways he doesn’t feel like he should do with Ladybug, and it’s all a great, complicated situation that I thoroughly enjoyed seeing unfold!

---

Two Steps Back (One Step Forward) by @buggachat

Sure, Adrien hadn't been texting her as often as he used to. And sure, Nino noticed it too. But just because Adrien had struggled with depression in the past, didn't mean he was struggling now. Surely, he'd tell her if something was wrong. Right?

Marinette just missed him, and she had a tendency to catastrophize. Surely, he was fine.

But if he wasn't... well, she wasn't above hopping on a flight back to Paris to make sure.

—————

Marinette's at an internship in New York, and Adrien has a depression relapse.

Once again buggachat comes out swinging with a fic centered around Adrien being super depressed and his friends charging in to help him, despite him not wanting them to because he feels like a burden. It’s not easy and Marinette goes through a lot of emotional turmoil, especially since his apartment is in bad enough shape that it can’t be changed to something that a human should be living in without also going shopping, but gradually she helps drag Adrien out of the hole he’s gotten himself stuck in. The emotions are on point and just... if you want to read a hurt/comfort fic with Found Family helping one of their own who’s struggling and doesn’t think they deserve it, this is a great fic to read.

---

If only I could break free by megetstoread

It started with Adrien being upset about going away, but led to a lot of revelations.

Another Sentiadrien fic here! After telling Adrien that he’s being sent to London, Gabriel takes advantage of Adrien being distraught to akumatize him. Luckily Ladybug’s right there and deakumatizes him before he can even do anything, but it shakes both her and Chat, leading to her allowing him to tell her a lot more about his home life than usual, and for her and Adrien to investigate to see whether there might be more to Adrien’s inability to stand against his father than just psychological abuse.

---

Skinny Dipping in the Seine by whensparksfly

When Marinette and Chat Noir cross paths one stormy night, an unexpected friendship blossoms, and between the two of them they’re both able to admit what they’ve been looking for the most — freedom. Vowing to tackle all of the things they’ve never tried before, they set out on a series of adventures to complete their bucket lists.

Cute little Marichat fic here! Just Marinette and Chat Noir hanging out and doing things they’ve always wanted to do, like going to a rave or, well, skinny-dipping in the Seine.

---

Nor No Man Ever Loved by @jheqiawrites

It starts with a gift to cheer up a friend, a friend Marinette's heart is trying to move on from. But when she is blatantly confronted with her feelings by the most unexpected person, Marinette's life takes a turn for the better.

Welcome to my Adrienette April story. It is based around Shakespeare's Sonnet 116: Let Me Not to the Marriage of True Minds. Each chapter will be framed around part of the sonnet and should be able to stand alone, though the story itself will all be tied together.

This is a nice little story, mostly focusing on Marinette’s perspective while being there for Adrien, WITH Adrien, while dealing with his father and the aftermath of his father’s takedown. We do get some perspective from Adrien though for things like his therapist appointments. I really like that it covered some of the therapy Adrien should have after this event, he needs it.

---

Villainous Matchmaking by @nedjsmlfavs

When Chat Noir is tragically unable to attend an event with Ladybug, the mayor calls in a favor from a designer ‘friend’. Now she’s attending in style, on the arm of the hottest male model in Paris. Which would be fine if it weren’t for one, tiny issue: Paris’ favorite domestic terrorist now knows how Ladybug feels about his son. This leads him to his greatest plan yet, using Ladybug’s extremely obvious crush on Adrien Agreste to akumatize Chat Noir.

A Ladrien/“platonic” Ladynoir fic

This is adorable and hilarious. Gabriel keeps on “accidentally” releasing things which makes it looks like Adrien and Ladybug are a couple in an effort to make Chat Noir jealous, while Adrien and Ladybug ae just over-the-moon about getting to spend time together and finding out that the other person loves them XD.

---

Vantage Point by @ashes-555

Most of the time, with more information, life get easier and things make more sense. But Alya discovers that sometimes, knowing everything is just plain complicated.

Alya POV fic here, which instantly drew my attention, I think most people know how much I love fics giving her some focus.

This is set post-Gang of Secrets. Basically, Ladybug tells Chat that he can tell someone his secret identity, and he chooses Alya (he thought about telling Nino, but he didn’t want to rock the boat with Nino since he’s his best friend, and he figured Nino would let it slip to Alya anyway). Which leads to Alya just. Dying. As she deals with knowing the full truth about the Lovesquare and not being able to tell Adrien and Marinette that they’re chasing each other around in circles.

The fic soon changes gears, though, becoming a Hawkmoth Defeat fic, with Rena coming up with a plan to discover Scarlet Moth’s location, and then everyone dealing with the ramifications.

---

Justifying the Means by @ashes-555

When the worst happens, Alya finds that she may be willing to do the unthinkable. Is any sacrifice to big to make for her friends?

Once again, Ashes comes out swinging with an Alya focused fic!

Basically, there’s a major, destructive akuma attack. During it, Ladybug orders Chat to cataclysm a building in order to stop from being trapped. Unfortunately the building collapses, injuring or killing a lot of people - unbeknownst to her, including Chat Noir. Gabriel releases the akuma, which means she has no way of fixing the damage, either.

A lot of of focus is placed on Alya and Nino worrying over Adrien, who was found in the wreckage barely clinging to life, in a coma, with the doctors unsure whether he’d make it. Shadow Moth takes advantage of their distress to make an offer: if he gets the Ladybug and Black Cat Miraculouses, he can make a Wish to fix everything, including saving Adrien. With as dark a place as Alya and Nino are in, they seriously consider it. Especially with how unhappy both of them are with Chat Noir supposedly “abandoning” Ladybug and Paris as a whole, and Nino being angry with Ladybug for failing (since Alya knows that Marinette is Ladybug, she’s far more understanding on that front).

I love how much credence Alya’s thought and emotions are given here, and that she doesn’t go for the more drastic option right away, either - she talks with Ladybug about it first, tries to do it her way. She understands the costs, but... her friends are important to her, and she’s desperate. I think this was a really good way to present a more antagonistic sort of Alya. She’s still very much herself here, and still considers Marinette her friend, willing to do things her way to an extent, and understanding why Marinette doesn’t want to use the Wish, even though she disagrees with her. Alya’s mindset, her emotions, her problems, are given respect and credence by the narrative. She’s still willing to talk things out, she’s still sympathetic to Marinette and the enormous trauma and guilt she’s going through, she just disagrees with Marinette’s approach. She wants her friend back.

If you want a fic that has some solid focus on Alya as a person, on her emotional struggles and mindset and just... dealing with things, I highly recommend checking out “Justifying the Means”.

---

Would Trust You With Everything by @kasienda

Nino breaks off, tears streaking down his face. Adrien wishes he was here as himself instead of Chat so he could offer a hug.

“It’s not like I don’t think she deserved her privacy. It’s just it felt like I was her last priority. And if I knew why, then maybe we could overcome it. But when I don’t, I’m not willing to be her last thought. You know? I always put her first.”

“Yeah,” Chat agrees, able to relate too well. He always put Ladybug first too, and he’s not sure it has ever been the same for her. “I’m sorry you’ve been so alone through this."

“I haven’t been totally alone,” Nino disagrees, holding up his phone. “My best friend has been keeping me company virtually most of the day.”

“Yeah? It helped?”

“I don’t know if any of the stuff he sent helped, but like, given what I know he’s up to, he totally had to move heaven and earth to talk to me so much, and that really helped. You know, just knowing that someone was thinking of me.”

“I’m glad,” Chat Noir said. “I wish he could be there in person for you.”

Nino sighs. “Yeah, me too, but at least you’re here."

...

Season 4 au - canon divergent from Rocketear Rocketear led to DJWiFi breakup.

Ahh, Adrino my beloved XD. I love the identity shenanigans in this one with Adrien being around Nino as both Adrien and Chat Noir, and both of them vaguely describing their situations to each other. It takes Adrien a bit to figure out that he has a crush on Nino, but once he does...

---

Dr. Walker & Kitty Hyde series by @pearl484-blog

Summary of the first fic, Rain Falls, Everybody Lies:

Chat Noir loves the rain. He loves the danger. He loves the excitement, and he especially loves how much Catwalker hates it.

Jekyll and Hyde AU

Adrien AUGreste Entry 3: Rain

So like the summary says, and the title indicates, this series is inspired by the popular conception of Dr Jekyll and Mr. Hyde - not how the book actually goes, but how it’s portrayed in popular media, with Jekyll splitting himself in two, with a “good” side and a “bad” side.

During Kuro Neko, instead of just changing his appearance through changing his mindset, Adrien took more extreme measures, sealing off his “undesirable” characteristics, his anger and sadness and all his sharp edges, into the ring so he could assume a more placid, genial persona that’d be more accepted - Cat Walker.

But Chat Noir’s still there, taking over whenever Adrien gets too testy, and desperately trying not to be pressed out of existence entirely. With embodying Adrien’s sealed anger and snappishness and rebelliousness, he’s not too kind to the other heroes - he already felt looked down upon and ignored before this, and seeing them accept Cat Walker while he’s fighting for his life doesn’t endear them to him either.

The series isn’t unfair to them - this isn’t a case where one party is entirely in the wrong and another’s entirely in the right. Marinette, Zoe, Nino, and all the others - they did wonder about what was going on with Chat, but he wasn’t in a position where he could see it, and he did have legitimate questions about how much Ladybug would budge on things, if he’d told her what he was going through. It’s a series that emphasizes characters hurting and lashing out in some terrible ways, but that hurt still being respected, and working things out, trying to get everything to a better place.

---

First Dance, Second Chance by @gabriel-agreste-has-no-rights

After fighting by Ladybug's side as Aspik, Adrien finally has an excuse to connect with her. But when Gabriel voices concerns about Ladybug during a charity event, Adrien realizes she might need him for more than just one dance.

Or, the one where Ladybug and Adrien work together to find out Hawkmoth's identity, while maybe squeezing in a date or two along the way.

Ladrien Hawkmoth defeat fic here! I love Ladybug and Adrien teaming up to figure out how to track down Hawkmoth and defeat him, and being super supportive of each other more generally. If you like Ladrien and Hawkmoth Defeat fics, you should check it out!

---

The Great War by icebelle24

'And maybe it’s the past that’s talking, screaming from a crypt Telling me to punish you for things you never did So I justified it'

The unthinkable happens, and suddenly, Chat Noir’s allegiances change. Now Ladybug stands on the opposite side of the battlefield from the boy who was once her partner, left alone to make sense of an impossible situation.

At least she still has Adrien to give her hope. Or maybe things are not entirely as they seem.

I adore Ladynoir enemies au, and this is a good one. The reveal of what’s really going on is pretty great, everything makes sense. I love the pieces of Alya’s POV in this as well, as she’s trying to support Marinette through one of the biggest betrayals that could possibly happen, even while Marinette’s making some frustrating decisions that don’t make much tactical sense. Everyone’s pissed at Chat Noir (now Cat Walker) for apparently siding with Hawk Moth, and the subsequent frustrating inability to make any headway against him, as Ladybug always insists on fighting Cat Walker personally, and letting no one else take part.

---

The moment I knew (I’d no choice but to love you) by @bbutterflies

“He’s dating me,” Nino said, taking Adrien’s hand in his own.

Adrien could only stare back at him in shock.

“How dare you all force him to come out?” Nino continued, glaring at the reporters. “That was disgusting.” He pulled Adrien over to the car, guided him in, and shut the door behind them.

In the relative quiet and privacy of the backseat, Adrien finally processed what had just happened. “So… when were you going to tell me we were dating?”

This Adrino fic is delicious XD. Reporters keep hounding Adrien about his love life, so Nino finally gets them off Adrien’s back by fake-dating him. Problem is, Adrien’s actually been madly in love with Nino for years but has never been able to tell him. And now as they’re spending more time together, Nino’s beginning to find that he’s enjoying all these “couple” activities more than maybe he ought to if it’s entirely platonic...

If you want to see Adrien and Nino PINING for each other while “fake” dating (is it really fake if both parties want it to be real?) then you’ve come to the right fic!

---

Evillustrator Reimagined by onewaywriteturn

A full, mostly-standalone rewrite of the episode "The Evillustrator".

Nathaniel never planned to tell anyone about his secret crush on his friend Marc, but his world changes when Chloe picks up his sketchbook and mocks his art in front of the whole class, inadvertently outing him as bisexual. Now as the Evillustrator, he has two objectives: to take vengeance on Chloe for what she did to him and to go on a date with Marc for his birthday.

At the same time, Marinette is already struggling to defend Sabrina from Chloe when she learns of the Evillustrator's crush on Marc, one of her good friends. And while getting Marc involved with an akuma fight is messy enough, the fact that Marc has secretly liked Nathaniel for a long time complicates the situation so much more.

If you ever wanted to see Evillustrator rewritten to focus around NathMarc, this is the fic for you! The two of them just PINE for each other so hard and are so convinced that the other person couldn’t possibly actually want to date them, even with Evillustrator making it uh. Exceedingly obvious XD.

#miraculous ladybug #ml fanfic rec

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jamespotterthefirst · 2 months

Text

A Note and A Thank You

Dear wonderful readers,

I've been on the fence about this for months, but due to some life-changing (and scary) news I received today in my personal life, I decided it is the right time to say this. I always said that when the time came to hang my writing hat, I would not write a long goodbye post. And I plan to stick to my word. This is not goodbye. Not really.

This upcoming March 2024 will mark four years of writing for Choices (more specifically, for Open Heart). I started this journey when Open Heart: Second Year was still publishing and as the world was going on lockdown due to the pandemic. Times back then were truly terrifying and unpredictable, but I found solace and comfort in this community. I was lucky to be received with what felt like open arms by friendly users and enthusiastic readers.

That is a memory I will cherish until the end of my days.

With that in mind, I wanted to take a moment to express my deepest and everlasting gratitude to YOU for joining me in this crazy journey. Writing for Open Heart helped me re-discover my love for writing and I truly believe that wouldn’t have been possible without you. Your support and enthusiasm have been a tremendous source of joy these past four years.

Again, I know this sounds like a goodbye and it’s not.

But I also want to be completely honest about my future here.

Many of you know that the world has long since returned to normal since the pandemic (or as normal as it can be). Things are vastly different from the day I wrote and published my first Open Heart fic (Lovely). These days, life has presented me with a series of challenges, including serious medical diagnoses and demanding work duties. As a result, finding the time and energy to write has become a complex balancing act.

I wanted to share this with you to express my sincere appreciation for your understanding during this busy (and terrifying) period. Though there is still much I want to create, I am uncertain about the frequency with which I can write in the future. To be brutally honest with myself, I doubt I will be able to create anything in the foreseeable future. I hope one day things will be okay in my life and I can return to doing what I love most.

In the meantime, I leave you with my Masterlist. The works there are not perfect and if given the chance, I would definitely change many things, but they were written with much, much love. Though my online time is very limited now, I will still be here on Tumblr, reading and reblogging content when I get little breaks here and there. You guys also know I can't resist reblogging pictures of my pairing or answering asks about them! You can also find me on my main blog (if you want to follow the madness there).

I once more want to say thank you. From the bottom of my heart. Your support, understanding, and patience mean the world to me. Thank you for being a part of this journey, and I hope to return to writing one day.

Until then, I'll see you guys around!

Sincerely,

Bree

#open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan x mc

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catt-leya · 1 year

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Nighttime || Rick Grimes 18+

Sooo this might be the sweetest fic I've ever written. I tried to make up for the loving words you wrote to me and I hope it's like you imagined it to be 💗 and again: thank you so much 💗💗💗

Original request here

About the fic: It's mainly fluff but it wouldn't be me if I wasn't able to at least mention a bit of smutty action 👉🏼👈🏼💗

Trigger: none (?) but a bit pregnancy at the end

Hospital

Shivering, you look around the hospital you've fled to and take a deep breath as you hear the pure silence. If there were living dead people walking around here, you should have heard them by now.

In fact, this hospital may be the last place in this city that hasn't been completely overrun and razed.

Carefully you walk through the long and dark corridor, avoiding the cables hanging from the ceiling.

Perhaps you could find a reasonably safe space here to at least gather yourself and then move on to another city.

Maybe you could also find some supplies and get yourself....

Before you can finish the thought, you hear soft footsteps.

Immediately you stop, rooted to the spot, and try to figure out where the footsteps are coming from.

It is so oppressively quiet that you hear every step as if the source were only 2 meters away from you.

Your hands get sweaty and you take a silent step to the side to lean your back against the wall, listening strained for the sound that must be coming from around the corner to your left.

You force yourself to stay calm and figure out what it is first, firmly believing that if push came to shove, you could take on a walking corpse.

The air sticks in your lungs as the light flickers and the source of the footsteps becomes visible.

A man dressed only in boxers and a hospital gown stops in front of the door facing him, staring at the inscription that you can't read from your position.

He doesn't look like he likes to eat people for snacks, but you've learned the hard way that that doesn't have to mean anything, so you still stay as quiet as you can and watch him slowly reach out for the door, from which a muffled groan can be heard.

Dead or not, don't let this guy open the door.

If need be, you can take him on, but certainly not the ones he'd most likely let through the door, so you take a big step toward him and yell, "No, don't."

He flinches violently and jerks his head around to look at you as if you were the undead.

Still keeping enough distance from him, you say, "Keep the door closed" hoping he's alive and understands what you've just said.

To your relief, he still looks like he's about to pick up his feet and run, but he replies, "What's behind there?"

The fact that he can speak is proof enough for now that he's normal, and you relax a bit.

Only now do you really look at him and discover a bandage wrapped around his waist, which you point to, "You're in the hospital for that, aren't you?"

Confused, he looks down at himself, as if he's forgotten that he doesn't look like he's just been here for a short visit, and then nods, "I got shot."

You take another cautious step toward him, "You have no idea what's going on. Can it be?"

Again he looks at you helplessly and confused beyond measure, "This must be a dream. A coma dream. I'm not awake at all."

Dryly you laugh out, "It would be nice. But no, you're wide awake and probably just slept through how it all started, Sleeping Beauty."

You feel tremendously sorry for the panic in his beautiful blue eyes, but the sooner he understands what's going on, the sooner you might have a helping hand, too. It goes against the grain for you to admit this, but the fact is that it might not be such a bad thing to have a man by your side who's a few heads taller than you.

Now that it's a matter of life and death, you can't afford to be picky, but you still ask again about his bullet wound, "Where did you get that?"

You hope he's not a gangster or a rapist. True, he doesn't look like it, but as you said before, you shouldn't just trust appearances.

His gaze slides over your body and he says softly, "I'm a Sheriff and I got caught in a shooting."

You exhale heavily and actually give him the benefit of the doubt, "Would you like to come with me? I can explain what happened while you were in a coma, Sheriff."

Farm

Smiling, you look to Dale sitting high atop his RV, "I can help you."

The old man loves being able to watch over everyone from above and you know that for a fact, but you love it at least as much as he does. That's why you don't even wait for him to answer and climb so far up to look over the edge at him.

He probably didn't even hear you and looks spellbound through his binoculars. With a furrowed brow you follow the direction he is looking and can see two people without recognizing who it is.

You clear your throat loudly and Dale flinches in surprise.

When he looks at you, you raise an eyebrow and grin, "I don't know exactly what you're looking at, Dale, but I doubt very much that it's a possible threat to our group."

Quietly, he murmurs, "I wouldn't be so sure if I were you."

Confused, you brace yourself on the roof and sit cross-legged next to him, "What are you talking about?"

"See for yourself," sighing, he hands you the binoculars and you reluctantly take them to see what he's getting at.

It takes you a small moment before you find the two people he's been watching, and you bite your lower lip as you recognize Rick's curls and his back.

By the way he's standing, he's partially shielding the person he's talking to, but even from that, you know full well it's his wife Lori.

Sighing, you hand Dale his binoculars and shrug, "They're just talking. That doesn't have to mean there's trouble in paradise."

The old man next to you snorts in disbelief, "Girl, you haven't fallen on your head. Nothing at all is going well between those two anymore, and it's tearing our group apart piece by piece."

You know he's not wrong, but because Rick is your best friend, you keep your mouth shut.

But Dale really gets into it, "You can't tell me you don't see the way Shane looks at Lori. At some point, it's going to pop, and it's going to end badly."

You grit your teeth.

Of course you see it, and you have a guess or two about what happened when Lori thought Rick died in the hospital, but you don't know anything for sure, and you'd think it unfair to saddle Rick with more guesses and possibilities when he already has his hands full.

So you say unnaturally calmly, "Dale, you have no idea what they're talking about, and even if it's not a good conversation, Rick will make sure it doesn't turn into a big problem for the group."

Briefly, something flashes in your old friend's eyes and he sighs softly, "I know, kiddo. Rick is a good man. It's not for me to judge, but he deserves someone better."

Your eyes dart to the two figures in the distance, but they're gone and you shrug, "Possibly."

Silently you look at each other and you cry out softly when you hear Rick's voice from downstairs, "Darling? Are you upstairs?"

Dale grins broadly at you and murmurs, "Lori doesn't like it when he calls you that."

Unwittingly, your cheeks grow warm and you slap his upper arm, "Shut up."

Hectically, you scoot to the edge of the RV and look down at Rick: "Yep, what's up?"

The way he looks up at you makes your heart sink to the floor, and then when he also asks in a raspy voice, "Can I talk to you?" Wouldn't you know a situation where you wouldn't drop everything to be there for him.

You nod at him and smile at Dale: "I'll be back later."

But he shakes his head, "I'm not counting on it, kiddo."

You can't suppress the rolling of your eyes, and instead of answering, you make your way downstairs to Rick.

When you reach the last two rungs of the ladder, Rick grabs you by the waist and lifts you down from the RV.

Instead of letting go of you right away, he pulls you back against his chest and presses a kiss to your cheek, which makes you giggle softly and you lightly slap his hands to get him to let go of you, which he reluctantly does.

Holding you in his arms has always felt right to him, and he wouldn't stop anytime soon.

He just has to touch you as soon as you come near him. Whether it's an arm wrapped around your shoulder or even just a little touch on your lower back.

God, it's enough for him to pull a leaf out of your hair like this while you look at him with your beautiful eyes.

Gently, you stroke his chest with the flat of your hand, smoothing down his shirt, "What do you want to talk to me about, Sheriff?"

As you do, your eyes slide from his face to your hand and you notice how dirty his shirt has already become, "Rick? You're going out with Shane tomorrow aren't you? If you'd like you can give me your shirt then and I'll wash it for you...That is, of course, if Lori hasn't already offered."

You look back up at him and he just stares at you.

The RV is close behind your back and Rick is standing very close to you as he usually does, which adds a little too much tension to the situation and you take a step toward him to push past him on the left and maintain decorum.

For a brief and naive second, Rick thinks of something he shouldn't be thinking about and then in turn takes a step to the side as well before clearing his throat so as not to sound as hoarse as he probably would, "You want to wash my shirt?"

He sounds so surprised you chuckle, "You say that like it's something amazing. We're friends Rick. Of course I'll wash your shirt if you want. You're incredibly busy, so it's the least I can do, and I can help you out with it."

You grin at him, "And maybe I'm a little selfish too, because you're prettier to look at when you're wearing clean clothes."

His heart warms and he hasn't felt this way in a long time...so wanted and appreciated for all he has given up for the group.

And all because you offered to wash his stupid shirt.

He takes a deep breath and reaches for your hand, "Can we go to your tent, darling?"

Concerned, your grin falls from your face and you bite your lower lip, "Of course. Come."

Gently, you pull him behind you to your tent, which is set up near the others.

You realize this must be about the conversation Rick had with Lori, and Rick's grip on your hand is so incredibly tight that you can feel how agitated he is, and maybe a little afraid he's going to crush your fingers.

Even though you can barely move your fingers, you don't say a word about it and open the tent.

That's the moment Rick lets go of your hand and you crawl inside in front of him.

He doesn't really want to, but as soon as you're on all fours, his gaze slides to your butt and he squints his eyes hard, trying to keep it together.

Partly because he's still married, no matter what Lori has done, and partly because he doesn't want to jeopardize the friendship you have because of some knee-jerk reaction.

He adores you far too much for that.

So he forces himself to think clearly again and crawls behind you into the inside of the little tent.

Because Rick is so much bigger than you, he takes up an incredible amount of space in the cramped room, but you don't mind.

It's nice to have him close to you and you reach for his hands as if it were a matter of course, "So, what's up, Sheriff?"

His eyes are fixed on your hands as he mutters, "Lori slept with Shane when I was in the hospital where we met. She thought I was dead. She...I..."

You squeeze his hands, "Shhhh, it's okay. Take your time."

He sighs softly and you gently tug on his hands, making him look up questioningly.

Slowly you lean back and as you lie flat on your back, you pull him down to you.

At first he hesitates, but when he looks into your loving eyes, he can't help himself and lets himself sink onto you.

Because the tent is so small, he doesn't try to crush you too, but you release a hand from his and press his head firmly but firmly to your chest.

Rick closes his eyes as his cheek comes to rest in the hollow between your breasts, expecting you to push him higher or a tad lower, but you don't seem to mind him lying on your breasts and as he hears your regular heartbeat, he relaxes more and more until he's able to get out coherent sentences again without bursting into tears, "You know what the real problem is, darling? Somehow I don't care that she slept with him. She told me and I didn't care. Shit, I even suspected it, and the only thing I thought about when she confirmed it, was how to get us all through the winter."

You stroke through his hair in slow motions and he leans harder into your touch, "And instead of supporting me, she tells me and expects a due response. As if I don't have a hundred other thoughts in mind. How twisted is that, please? I don't care about my wife and I'd rather think about the fact that I don't know how to handle the pressure of making life and death decisions. Decide your life and your death."

For a brief moment you wait to see if he wants to say anything else, but instead he presses himself tighter against your body, as if he can't stand to be away from you, and you tickle through his curls, which seems to please him as you whisper in a husky voice, "You're not twisted, Rick. You're giving it everything you've got, and there's nothing wrong or amiss with the way you feel. Don't beat yourself up because you might feel differently than it would be socially acceptable to react to a woman cheating on you. You feel what you feel and there's nothing you can do about that, nor do you have to."

You tug lightly on his curls, eliciting a soft groan from him before murmuring in a buttery smooth voice, "And yes Rick, you make choices but we all know you make the ones you feel are right and everyone sees your efforts. No one would ever blame you and you shouldn't blame yourself. You look out for us as best you can and in return I'll look out for you as best I can. I promise."

He feels tears coming to his eyes, and he's not really the type of man to start crying quickly. Especially not with a second person.

But it surprises him himself that he doesn't care with you and isn't ashamed at all as he buries his face between your breasts and lets out everything that's been building up since the hospital and lets you stroke his hair until he falls asleep on top of you.

Prison

You brush your hair out of your face as you step into the anteroom of your jail cells and hear Rick's raucous laughter.

When you see him sitting at the table with Hershel and Glenn, you can't help but smile broadly. Not too long ago, Rick was way too close to the abyss, and now seeing him so relaxed and at ease makes your heart leap.

Slowly you walk towards the happy group and frown as you watch Glenn waving his arms trying to explain something. The situation looks so funny that you don't notice the alcohol bottles on the table until now, and you realize why Rick is swaying and Glenn looks like he's fighting a battle against invisible flies.

But when Rick sees you he immediately tries to get up and almost knocks over the whiskey on the table, if Hershel hadn't grabbed it first.

Stumbling, he comes toward you and slurs, "Darlin'."

As soon as he can reach for you, he pulls you into his arms and you can't suppress a giggle, "Could it be that you're drunk, Sheriff?"

He keeps his hands on your hips as he pulls away from you and half turns to the people sitting at the table, "Am I? I don't know."

Hershel, who is the only one sober, throws me a pitying smile and I stand on my tiptoes to breathe a kiss on Rick's cheek.

Immediately he turns his attention back to me and I tug on his belt loop, "Will you let me go? I'd like to get some sleep."

The smile he gives me is mischievous and makes him seem much younger than he is, "Haven't you noticed?"

You frown and he winks at you awkwardly, due to the alcohol in his blood, "I never want to let you go."

Again you tug at his pants, "You probably don't even realize right now how incredibly wrong that sounded. On any level." Still, you can't stop laughing.

But just as he said, he doesn't let go of you and instead pulls you to his seat at the table.

He plops down in his seat and fits you tighter so he can pull you onto his lap, but you brace yourself, "Rick, I want to go to sleep."

You didn't know how good he was at pouting until now and you swallow hard as he looks at you with his blue eyes, "Darlin' please. Stay with me a little longer. Then I'll come to bed with you."

You sigh, "Rick..."

And he tugs on your hip again, "Please? I can only sleep with you."

You are well aware of the looks the others are giving you. Even though everyone knows that Rick and you share a bed, even though you're just friends, it's still strange to see him begging in this way while you're not alone.

With everyone else, he's always the somewhat cocky leader, and once he's alone with you, you feel like you could ask him to crawl on the floor and he'd do it for you.

You lower your voice a bit and stroke his dark curls, "That doesn't mean I'm kicking you out of bed, Rick."

You immediately see that he's ready to argue, but before he can say anything, Merl, who has recently come to live with you, walks in and laughs harshly, "So big Rick Grimes is begging to sleep in bed with a chick who won't even let him fuck her."

You couldn't care less what Merl normally has to say, but Rick is already not controlled when he's sober, and now that he's drunk, even the minimum level of control is lost.

Thanking God you react quickly enough to push Rick back onto his butt by the shoulders and hiss, "Shut up, Merl."

Grinning, he takes a step closer, "Oh come on. He can take it. If you don't want him anymore, you're welcome to come over to my place. It's just that I'm more into it when chicks beg me to fuck them."

You grab Rick firmly by the hair as he tries to get back up and drag him down as he growls, "You miserable asshole."

You look to Glenn for help, but he's looking spellbound at the scene in front of him and Merl is far from done, "What's Rick? Afraid you're going to sleep alone tonight?"

You can see it very clearly. You see when the last fuse blows on Rick and you grit your teeth and tug at his hair so hard that he has to look at you and you say quietly, "Forget him, Rick. I ain't going nowhere."

Merl laughs harshly and you wheel around to him, "And what's your problem? Do you really need it that bad? Laughing at Rick asking me to sleep in a bed with him and not having anyone with you yourself, am I seeing this right? You need to come on to me in that disgusting way, but let's get one thing straight: Before I come to bed with you, I'd rather sleep alone in the woods, and you know what's funny? You might think it's pathetic that Rick sleeps in a bed with me and doesn't nail me, but guess who's going to be lying in bed pressed up against a woman's body afterwards, touching me however he pleases? Right! Not you."

Merl stares at you with his mouth open and Rick is already starting to get up again when Hershel blinks several times and stands up, "Okay, let's all calm down and take a deep breath. Merl, I think it's best if you leave now."

For a brief moment, you think he's going to say something stupid again, but you glare defiantly at him and he softly growls something about "fucking whore" before disappearing and you drop onto Rick's lap with a deep sigh.

It stays quiet until you grumble, "Aren't you going to keep drinking?"

Rick wraps his hands around your stomach and pulls you closer to his chest, "Darlin'..."

Again you sigh, "Rick, give it a rest."

You don't feel like talking about it anymore, and as another attempt is made to address you, you turn your head in his direction and mumble lazily in his ear, "It's all right. If you're thinking about what Merl said, forget it. I like how soft you are to me. Only to me."

With the words, you kiss him briefly behind the ear and then turn your gaze back to the whiskey bottle, "Okay, I could use a drink."

All the while you remain sitting on Rick's lap, letting him push you back and forth when you sometimes get too heavy for him in the long run.

Only once do you slide closer to him yourself, but where he immediately grabs you tighter and slurs harshly in your ear, "Don't, Darlin'."

You know full well that your cheeks are getting hot and you quickly excuse yourself before he pushes you back into another spot.

The bottle doesn't last long, and as Hershel announces that he wants to get into bed, everyone else starts moving as well.

Rick, who had been swaying before, leans on you with his full weight and you're also drunk enough that you can't quite walk straight.

Giggling and stumbling, you drop onto the bed and you slide against the wall as you always do, while you kick your shoes off your feet and Rick unhandily peels himself out of his pants.

You watch him do it, as you have every time since you first fell asleep together.

It's not just Rick who can sleep better with you. You also love his weight on you and the heat he radiates.

Sluggishly, he crawls into bed with you and slides between your legs to rest his head on your breasts.

Under his lashes, he looks up at you, "Thank you."

You bite your lower lip and stroke his curls as you always do, "For what, Sheriff?"

Quietly, he clears his throat, "For what you said to Merl."

His hand slides over your hip bone and you feel the touch all the way down to your toes as you take a shaky breath, "It's just the truth."

He turns his head a bit and puts his hand just below your chest and for the first time you hope he would move his hand higher.

Even if it was just by accident.

But he stays still and mumbles, "Still. You didn't have to do that, and that's why I thank you."

You can't bring yourself to say a word, and you don't need to, because Rick falls asleep on top of you a short time later, too.

Alexandria

You stretch out on the bed and blink against the sun that falls into the bedroom you share with your boyfriend Rick.

Grumbling, Rick presses a kiss to your bare stomach and looks up at you from below, "Everything alright, darling?"

Grinning, you look into his scrunched up face and push his hair a little flatter on his head because his curls are sticking out in all directions, "Yes, Rick."

The golden light of the rising sun shines on him in a way that makes it look like he's surrounded by a halo, and you stare at him dreamily.

Never could you put into words how much you love him and have for a long time.

Already on the farm you were addicted to him, only you never realized it and then he told you in prison that he loves you and not only sees you as his best friend. Never having seen you only as his best friend and you couldn't help but fall head over heels for a relationship with the stubborn and impulsive leader of your group.

After the war with Negan, things are quiet and you enjoy the mornings you spend together in bed maybe even a little too much.

Still you just look at him and he rests his chin on your stomach and puts his hands on the sides of your naked breasts.

Along the way, he paints little circles on them with his thumbs, paying no attention to your nipples, which immediately perk up as he looks at you questioningly with his bright eyes, "Do I have something on my face?"

And smiling at him, "No, sorry."

Again he breathes a kiss on your skin, "You don't have to apologize. I like it when you look at me like that."

Lazily you put your hands to his cheeks and gently tug on his beard, "Hmmm, how do I look at you?"

His smile we lascivious, "Like you were waiting for round two from last night."

Giggling, you tug harder on his beard, "Maybe."

Before he can push himself over you, though, you murmur softly, "That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about."

Immediately he sees the uncertainty in your eyes and pauses for a moment, "Did I do something wrong?"

Of course, he looks to blame himself first. Always at himself first.

So you quickly shake your head and nervously bite your lower lip, "No, no. That's not the point."

Slowly, he slides off of you to rest on his elbow beside you, "What's wrong, darling?"

You can't stand it when he doesn't touch you and instead place your own hand on his chest, "We're safe here, Rick."

He sighs deeply, "Darling, I have no idea what you're getting at."

You realize you're beating around the bush, but you don't have the heart to just say it, so you go wide again, "You're a great dad."

Rick grabs your chin and pushes your head up so you can't avoid his gaze: "Okay, now tell me what's going on or I'm going to lose it."

Shakily, you exhale, "Would you like to have a baby with me?"

Rick freezes.

His hand slips from your chin and he swallows hard, "You want a baby?"

Unsure, you blink up at him, "Yeah? If you don't want to, that's okay too. We don't have to do anything you don't-" His lips are on yours.

Surprised, you moan into the kiss and Rick slides his body over yours.

It's similar to the feeling of him laying on top of you so he can sleep only then he's not pressing his hips into a very specific spot and he's certainly not humming in your ear, "I sure as hell want a baby and I'm all for getting it on right now, darling."

Your heart hammers in your chest and you gasp softly, "Okay."

You move your hands to his shoulder blades and press your fingers into them as he turns to your neck and spreads wet kisses over your sensitive skin.

He's so warm and hard on you that it feels like your own skin is too small for you and you start to squirm under him, "Don't drag it out, Rick. Please."

He chuckles against your neck and slides between your legs so you can feel his cock where you need it most.

Roughly, you moan and push yourself further toward him, but he presses you back down on the bed with his free hand and murmurs hoarsely, "Easy. Wait a moment. I don't want to hurt you, darling."

Rick lifts his head and the love and admiration in his eyes makes you giddy and you nod slightly, "Okay."

Smiling, he presses a soft kiss to your lips and positions himself so that his tip is pressing against you and you shakily try to suppress pushing Rick against his handsome ass with your heels so that he is finally inside you.

His lips hover over yours as he penetrates you inch by inch, whispering over and over how much he loves you.

It's not the freakiest sex you've ever had, and it's not the hardest, but the way he doesn't take his eyes off you for a second and is so deep inside you that it feels like he's perpetuating himself inside you makes it the best sex you've ever had.

Every little touch of his hands on your body is pure intimacy and you have to pull yourself together not to start crying with happiness.

Then, when he kisses you hard on the mouth and you chase your climax together, you can't control yourself and shuffle into the kiss, "Rick, I love you. I love you so much."

He looks into your eyes briefly before leaning over you and kissing the tears on your cheek, "I know, darling. I know."

You grab his cheek and pull him back to your mouth, wishing this moment would never end.

@hail-yourselves @bean-is-reading @chanlvr2 @criminalwalkingsupernatural @sunshinevirus @toxic-ink @kingtwhiddleston @bloodycherry22 @vane28282 @bamslover @revesephemeres @emo-potato-virgil @tropodyn @mrsashleybarnes18-blog @igotbasicdrag @moonshine147 @1-800-isabellapotter @starkstiless

(If anyone else would like to be tagged, just let me know 💗)

#rick grimes fluff #rick grimes #twd #rick grimes imagine #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes smut #twd x reader #the walking dead #request #andrew lincoln #rick grimes angst

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mamahersh · 1 year

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Mamahersh’s Post-MAG-200 Fanfic Recommendation Mega Thread

@a-mag-a-day

In celebration of us finishing The Magnus Archives (even if I admittedly fell off around S2 and have been mostly lurking since then), I have compiled all of my fave post series fics for your enjoyment! I will be grouping them in some big, general categories, which I’ll list above the read more here. Depending on the size of this post, it might start looking a bit like that “Do you like the sky?” post But I can assure you that I have read all of these and can give them my stamp of approval!

If you finished the series and were wishing for your best boys to finally be happy, then boy howdy do I have some fanfiction for you!

Time Travel

Somewhere Else

AUs

Uncategorized JonMartin Fluff

By these categories, we should hopefully cover all the recommendations I have, and I hope you all find some new fics! (or enjoy rereading fics you haven’t enjoyed in awhile)

TIME TRAVEL

where there’s a will, we make a way by bubonickitten

"So, what does happen if an Eye learns to See within itself?

What happens is this: the Archive Beholds the Watcher – and the Watcher blinks first."

________________________

Jon goes back to before the world ended and tries to forge a different path.

Probably my fave time travel fic in this fandom hands down; it is also currently the longest whilst still unfinished. While I try not to recommend unfinished fics that I am uncertain of their return to activity, this is a big exception and personally I love everything about it! It’s got Jon dealing with trauma through the lens of his speaking only in Statements, Martin being saved from his downward spiral into the Lonely way earlier in S4, Georgie actually sticking around, Basira having a better grasp of the situation and being more understanding about it, and everyone generally sticking close to character while managing to buck parts of the narrative. I cannot recommend this fic enough, and I very likely already did back near the start of S5.

Something’s Different About You Lately by thesnadger

Jonathan Sims has been head archivist for just a few months, but he has memories of holding the position for years. He remembers monsters, and darkness, and the end of the world. Somehow, he'll have to keep everyone safe from what's coming. Meanwhile, his assistants can't understand why their prickly jerk of a boss has gone sappy all of a sudden.

So TMA time travel fics that focus on Jon going back tend to come in two varieties. There’s the “Jon’s mind goes back and replaces himself/inhabits his past self’s body” and then there’s the “Jon physically goes back so there’s two Jons”. The first two on this list are of the first variety, and if I remember right this was one of the first I ever read. However, I recommend this one specifically because this has an amazing ending. Like, it might just be me, but many of the endings in these feel relatively unsatisfying because there’s magically a third option where Jon comes out unscathed while saving his S1 archives crew from the Horrors. For whatever reason, it was incredibly satisfying having a fic that didn’t shy away from the options presented in S4 and S5 and I love how they characterize everyone in this one as well.

100 Seconds to Midnight by starspangledbread

Jon and Martin find themselves back in 2011 after attempting to release the fears from their reality. The world is the same one they left behind, but now something has come back with them. They have a chance to destroy the fears once and for all, but it proves harder than expected. Who knew that the best laid plans could be thwarted by nosy co-workers, office romance, the inevitable learning curve of being a time traveler turned grifter, and the refusal to believe in subtlety?

Did someone say Extinction!Jon? This also is a part of a series, though the true sequel to this one is currently unfinished (though it should eventually be completed and only has one chapter to go). An excellent romp, I definitely recommend if you’re looking for something kinda dark, some comedy, a little OOC, and Martin being able to embrace his crime side in the name of saving the world.

Yesterday is Here by CirrusGrey

"Who the hell are you?" Jon could feel his hands shaking. The man laughed, taking a step forward and raising a hand to point at him. "I'm you, from the future!" he said, then swayed, eyes going unfocused, and collapsed to the floor in a dead faint. -------- Post-season-four Jon and Martin time travel back to the season one Archives.

Written by my fave (and most prolific) JMart author, we have a perfect example of the other kind of time travel fix it fic in the form of Jon physically travelling to the past to try and save the world. As expected by someone I am calling my fave JMart author, we’re going to be getting double dose on the JMart. I highly recommend if you’re looking for something that starts a little bittersweet, but then ends in copious amounts of fluff.

Reverb (Series) by Wolftraps

Undoing the apocalypse would have been enough for Jon, if all his people survived. Without them, Jon's only recourse is making it so it never happened in the first place. He's going to do better this time.

Summary from the first fic in the Reverb series, I highly recommend the first two fics in this series for different reasons. “The Reverb in These Holy Halls” is a great time travel fic that takes some really interesting turns by the end and unlike most fics actually has Jon try to keep Tim safe by keeping him out of the Archives pre-S1. However “Gossip” I recommend if you enjoy those fics formatted to look like official communication of some kind. It’s got people outside the Archives trying to figure out what’s wrong with them during the events of the first fic, and while it would be very confusing to read without the first fic, I’d almost say it’s worth it if you aren’t feeling the tags on the first one. Really fun and entertaining, you can’t go wrong with either one.

The Triumph of Galatea (for Acis is transformed) by TheOestofOCs

Statement of Hazel Rutter.

Jon couldn’t stop reading.

The Fears, however, are a bit more powerful than Jonah gave them credit for. Jon opens the door, but the world can’t hold what’s on the other side.

Time falls through, instead. Past becomes present, and the future is undone.

Statement begins.

Another fic I definitely recommended back at episode 160, but is well worth the second recommendation and/or re-read. Time Travel, but what if Jon could control as well as go into the dreams of the assistants/other Eye aligned people instead of just his victims’ dreams? Very good, even if unfinished, though the author seems likely to finish someday. Check out their other work as well, it’s all very good and has my fave Circus themed fic written to date.

a map of what matters most by gruhukens

“Is that a body,” Tim blurts before he can stop himself, rising to his feet. Martin looks, if possible, even more scared.

“He’s alive!” he hisses, almost defensively. “It’s not - it’s not Gertrude again, I didn’t kill him, he just – I don’t know what happened to him, I just found him in the stacks like this.”

“And you dragged him up here?” Tim says, and then registers several things at once – the build, the hair texture; the little round scars peppering a pair of thin hands and an awfully familiar face. “Wait, is that Jon?”

----

Jon stumbles back into an earlier Archive, looking for a way to fix the world. (Or, mom says it's my turn for the obligatory time travel au)

Directly inspired by CirrusGrey’s fic that I recommended earlier, this is another: Jon travels physically into the past fic. This one though is far more bittersweet than “Yesterday is Here”, but still an excellent read and does a great job at fleshing out the relationships between all the characters.

Saving the Universe: For Dummies by GhostChoir

Finding a man bleeding out in the alleyway was not what Elias wanted to do today. And he certainly didn’t mean to befriend him. But things never did go how he expected.

****** A Post-MAG200 Jon meets a 1970s Elias, an Elias from before he was corrupted by Jonah. Together, the two of them learn to cope with grief, drink more tea than any two people should be able to consume, and commiserate over shitty bosses. Oh, and just for the hell of it, they stop an apocalypse along the way.

Now for a change of pace: What if Jon time travels to the time of early Gertrude and Elias pre-Jonafying? A very good fic is what! While it’s been awhile since I read this, I do remember it’s quite good and deserves a chance. Note: this is NOT Jonathan/Elias, so my apologies if you were looking for that, but it is two very lonely men getting to just have a reliable friend in times of trouble.

A Little Game of Cat and Mouse by Paptato

“Jonah Magnus.” The cloudy silhouette snarled as it’s hand clamped tightly around Jonah's ascot. That was indeed his name, but Jonah couldn’t begin to fathom what he did to have it spat out with such hatred.

But nonetheless, Jonah was a gentleman and he would kindly address the angry figure as politely as possible, “Yes, and you are?”

“What?” The form spluttered as it slowly came into focus. Ah, yes. That probably wasn’t the proper response to being held at gunpoint by a random stranger. Must have been the blow to his head.

(Or in which Jonathan Sims goes back in time and tries to pull a Terminator, but fails and Jonah Magnus finds a new mystery to solve.)

This is that Jonah Magnus/Jonathan Sims enemies to lovers fic your friends warn you about in a good way. It’s not done, but I think it’s still being updated very slowly. Even if all I ever read is the currently released 11 chapters, I will consider it my one exception to my dislike of Jonah/Jon. As you can probably guess by the description, it’s a time travel fix it where Jon gets shunted back in time to when Jonah was still very human and still trying to figure out the Fears. The Web keeps Jon from explaining his circumstances or anything to do with Jonah’s future in particular, but this is a good thing and they both get to learn how to be more human in a world that previously was very antagonistic to those goals. It’s got a heavy dose of comedy, plenty of romantic tension, and lots of both surprising and unsurprising cameos. If you enjoy Dracula Daily, you’ll probably enjoy this imho.

Déjà Vu by CirrusGrey

Sasha remembers being unmade. Tim remembers being Unknown. Jon and Martin remember being unwound. All of them think they're the only one. -------- The S1 crew wakes up in the past with memories up till the moment they died.

So, here’s another one that’s got quite the spin on it. As you can see from the description, this one is where S1 crew all get their minds sent back in time to the time right around Jon’s first statement if I remember right. Another CirrusGrey fic, so it heavily leans on JonMartin, but otherwise it’s a wonderful exploration of the four S1 characters and ends on a very hopeful note!

oh my darling, just a moment of your time by IceEckos12

The Institute is visited by a pair of time travelers, and Jon has an important question for Tim.

Have you ever had a oneshot that just kinda guts you unexpectedly? While this might not do this for everyone, this is an amazing oneshot that gets right the point. I love it a lot, because of all of the fics where future and past meet each other, it very rarely if ever is addressed that past Jon was a douche. Or well it is but past Jon doesn’t necessarily have a character moment from it. Here he does, and despite the briefness of the fic, the author does an amazing job of giving Jon and Tim a moment while making an almost critique of the TMA time travel genre. Highly, highly recommend, and it won’t overstay it’s welcome if it doesn’t end up being your thing.

The Severing of Webs by chlodobird

After Jon kills the world, he travels back in time. Once there, he gets ready to change the future, to save his Assistants, and to watch as everyone learns to hate him again.

Unfortunately, the tapes wrap around him like a fly caught in a Web—he can't move. He's trapped reliving the original timeline, stuck acting out his past actions like an actor rehearsing his lines.

Sasha will die. Tim will die. Martin—

(Jon screams inside his mind, and someone hears him. Fate is not as immutable as he fears.)

This one is a brand new one! While basically all of the others on the list have been out/updating for over a year at this point; this lengthy oneshot just released this month. tbh, very excellent, which is why it has made the list. Also, quite the twist on the usual premise, where being sent back into his head is actually a bad thing this time. Ends with a giant pile of fluff, but who would I be if all my time travel recommendations were not also fix-its?

Somewhere Else

it will be this, always by bluejayblueskies

Jon coughed again, and blood stained his lips and blood stained Martin’s hands where they pressed against Jon’s back and blood stained the floor beneath them and help, they needed help.

Martin doesn’t remember shouting. He barely remembers the faces that had surrounded them, wide-eyed and terrified, all utterly unfamiliar.

Jon and Martin wake up somewhere else. Jon begins a slow path toward physical recovery, and several important, long-put-off conversations are had as they begin to navigate a new world that they hadn’t thought they’d be alive to see.

So, I’m sure you all have gathered that I have qualms with how much disparity there is between canon and fanon Jmart. This fic is painful, but is the most in character depiction of post 200 JMart fallout I have ever read. The ending is very cathartic, and takes a “realistic” approach to what happens to Jon and Martin as they begin to navigate their relationship after they both had betrayed each other so thoroughly in the leadup and culmination of MAG 200. If you don’t want them immediately making up, this is the fic for you. They get there, but by all that is good do they take their sweet time getting there.

Out There, Somewhere by Artyphex

"I'm sorry, you were found alone."

Jon survived the apocalypse and now will go to the end of this new, unfamiliar world to find Martin again.

So I think I’m just getting all the angsty ones out of the way first lol. Another slow burn, this fic is Jon’s recovery in the new reality while he also searches for what happened to Martin. Since I don’t post the tags, I will say this ones does feature “Eventual Happy Ending”, and I do promise that both Jon and Martin made it to the new reality and lived. But Jon and Martin both get to pine and cope for a while before that happy ending tag comes into play. It’s incredibly well done and explores their characters really well. Personally, I kinda enjoyed the Reddit saga because people mistaking Jon’s pleas for Martin as an ARG is very typical internet and 100% I would have bought into that at age 13.

Of course I need a therapist. I need ten therapists, working round the clock building me a bionic coping mechanism. We have the technology. by MartinKBlackwoodESQ

A story set somewhere else.

I’mma be real with you all, if I believed that characters could write and publish their own fanfiction, I would be halfway convinced the name is accurate. All joking aside however, this is a “crack treated seriously” fic but with characterization so on point I can consistently hear the voice actors when I read this. Admittedly, it’s made easier by it being written in transcript formatting, but if you’re looking for a hilarious time where TMA is suddenly is turned into a buddy cop adventure where Jon and Martin go to a universe where the Fears hadn’t been till their arrival, and they have doubles that already exist there who are living fairly normal lives till the TMA Jon and Martin crash land into their reality... Well this fic is one I cannot recommend highly enough. It also has a sequel, and it is also well worth the read, even if it appears to be on a bit of a break in it’s updates.

Worlds like phyllo pastry by neworld

After episode 200 Jon finds himself alone in a world very much like the one he left but fractionally different. It's so similar he finds versions of his former friends existing happily in the world. Unfortunately they have never met him in this universe and have no idea who he is.

This one’s unfinished, but personally it’s well worth the read as is. Not sure how I feel about the most recent chapter, but the story up till that point is a really fun spin on “Jon and Martin get shunted to a new reality” where Jon learns how to feed in a way that doesn’t cause problems facilitated by the new reality, and re-meets all the people who he lost till this point and has a very silly antagonistic relationship with his alternate self. While fic might be more of a guilty pleasure, it still is written in such a way that I would rank it high enough for this disorganized list.

Death Is The Easy Way Out by traveller19

After having killed Jonah Magnus and ended the Change, Jon and Martin should finally be able to rest. Rest, however, proves impossible when Jon falls ill. What's more, he begins having vivid dreams of their dead friends - Tim, trapped in the destroyed Archives, and Sasha, trapped outside of them. As Jon's condition quickly worsens and the line between dream and reality begins to blur, love is all he and Martin have to hold on to, because hope is a dangerous thing.

Did someone say sickfic??? But for real, this fic has an amazing balance between an A plot and a B plot, and keeps both at the right level of tension throughout. While this is a sickfic heavy one, it also features Tim and Sasha as ghosts trying desperately not to be. There’s also a lovely sequel and plenty of fluff by the end, but this is a rough ride. ALSO, if you or a loved one had covid / any respiratory illness that caused them to be hospitalized with pneumonia and it could be trigging to read incredibly on the nose descriptions of that experience, this fic is not for you. Or very cathartic. :/

Castaways by CirrusGrey

Welcome to the Castaway Foundation, a nonprofit organization dedicated to providing a safe and secure landing to those lost souls banished from their home worlds by the influence of Fear.

If you wanted saccharine JMart in a new reality where they get therapy and meet old friends from different realities, this series of (mostly) one shots is for you! As you’ve probably come to expect when I suggest CirrusGrey, the writing is fantastic, the ship dynamics are exemplary, and the character are on point. There is so much to say about this series, but mostly, if you want Jon and Martin healing and then settling together and becoming the stereotypical married couple, then this is it. It’s not done, but it is wrapping up, and I hope you all if you haven’t seen this yet enjoy it as much as I do. And for those long time readers who have been reading it longer than I’ve been in the fandom, here’s your friendly reminder that it exists.

Do Before I Die by SupposedToBeWriting

Somewhere Else, Jon can't seem to shake the strange apathy that now plagues his life. Everything reminds Martin of the end of the world. For a change of pace, he and Martin rent a campervan and go on a road trip. Their mission? To fulfill the 'bucket list' Martin made when he was eighteen and lonely. Jon's looking forward to the beach.

Jon and Martin go on a Road Trip accross Britain. It’s just a wholesome and hurt/comfort as it describes. An excellent romp, and the character studies are wonderful. The Planetarium still sticks with me.

ours is a distant shore (series) by pantsoflobster

“If they ever found out about us, we could make things really complicated for them," Jon said. Martin gave a thoughtful hum and then a loaded pause before he said, “Or simpler.” “What?” “We could, you know…” Martin then made mischievous eyes at him in lieu of expanding. “What?” Jon said, thoroughly lost. “Wouldn’t it be a bit fun to sort of... nudge them in the right direction?”

Months after they arrive Somewhere Else, Jon sees himself in the shop.

Summary is from the first fic in the series, this is a fun little romp for those who hated Martin’s defeatism over his and Jon’s relationship in MAG199 and want to see what would happen if instead he accidentally kick started an alternate version and his and Jon’s relationship Somewhere Else. It’s all very silly, tho the last fic does lean more into the hurt/comfort tag than the previous two. Over all though, if you’re looking for a little crack, a lot of fluff, and Jon and Martin being silly this is a good time.

Written in the Stars Will Have to Do by GentlemanCrow

“Yeah well, god knows why, but he thinks you hung the moon, so you might try treating him at the very least like a human being once in a while.”

It was such a small thing. Small words for a small feeling cloaked in a chintzy veneer of idiomatic dismissal. A trembling little bird cupped in his scarred and battered hands and smothered. Or so he thought. Sometimes trembling little birds turn out to be phoenixes, and those who looked to someone else to hang the comfort of a wise, silvery moon in the sky already have the hammer and the picture wire at the ready.

As far as Jon was concerned, the moon only rose on their Somewhere Else because Martin deigned to pull the strings every night, not him.

This is another one of those JMart Somewhere Else fics masquerading as a Safehouse fic that made me want to cry. It’s just, so wonderful, and once again we have themes of healing, but this time through getting a hobby and sharing it with your significant other. The writing is lovely and really gives off the stuffy academic musings I would expect being in Jon’s head (which we are for the duration of this fic) but adds a layer that I didn’t realized I needed till I read it.

On Errantry by ZaliaChimera

Somewhere Else, Jon and Martin discover that their new home has a very special sort of guardian, and Jon seeks judgement from an unexpected source.

They do say that cats purring can heal...

A cute one shot that deals with Jon’s lingering guilt from S5; this is a wonderful tale from Somewhere Else featuring a giant Cat, Martin being supportive, and Jon trying to reconcile his second chance. Very sweet and fluffy, guaranteed!

Lost, Unfound, But Not Forgotten by Elynn

They didn’t find bodies. Or anything pointing to where they may have gone. In the center of the rubble, what Georgie assumed to have once been the top of the tower, was a puddle of dried, crusted blood, and the outline of bodies in the dust and scorch marks. And she knew that wherever the Fears had gone, Jon and Martin had gone with them. The last victims, snuffed and dragged away with them. --- In the weeks after the Eye-pocolypse, Georgie Barker begins the painful process of mourning her best friend.

So, I know I’m very focused on Jon, but I have one fic of Georgie here that’s 10/10. Post 200, Georgie and Melanie eventually goes to clean out Daisy’s cabin of Jon and Martin’s things for Basira (or something like that) and Georgie finds a journal of Jon’s that he kept whilst there. It’s just as bittersweet as you’d imagine, but it’s fantastically cathartic to read and in our MAG 200 feels, this is a good one for closure.

Not Quite Somewhere Else by hawkfurze

Or you can find it on Tumblr HERE

A special entry to finish out this section, I have a long running comic from Tumblr user @hawkfurze who made a TMA x Infinity Train crossover. While I had not watched the show previously (only seen the trailer/pilot from back before it got picked up by CN), the comic is still easy to understand and explains the Infinity Train parts in such a way as to not need any prior knowledge. I highly recommend this comic for anyone who wants a visual treat delving into the relationship and psyches of Jon and Martin as they try to escape into the next reality.

AUs

Two Graves by SupposedToBeWriting

Jon sends the fears far from Earth and flees London, leaving the others to assume the worst. He settles in a small village and opts to live there quietly until he dies, a self-imposed penance. This plan is foiled when the first former Avatar shows up - and Jon realizes that every domain-keeper in the apocalypse still has some faint connection to him.

After a year of being a shoulder to cry on for confused and distraught former Avatars, Jon leads a moderately happy life. He has a flourishing garden, a cat, and some company. All of that comes crashing around his ears (or his head) when a familiar face shows up to his cabin, demanding answers.

This fic is in my top 5 fics of TMA fandom. No contest. It has some of the best healing from MAG 200 for Jon and Martin and tbh the world I’ve seen. It’s got that incredible hurt/comfort and the ending makes me cry tears of joy every time I read it. If you read any JMart fic on this list, please read this one if you can only read one. While I was tempted to put this in a different category, this seemed like the best place to put it.

What Comes After by Mornrandir

More than a year after the apocalypse, the world is starting to move on. Georgie, Melanie, and Basira have learned to move on and get back to living their lives. Then Martin reappears- without Jon- and they have to learn to begin again.

A series based around the initial above description, each entry in the series follows the healing of first Martin, then Jon, then both of them together. While I am a Jon-centric woman, if you are of a more Martin-centric leaning, this first fic in the series should scratch that itch. The final entry is very sweet, and the second definitely has a unique reason as to why Jon shows up so late to the after-Fears party.

The Watcher’s Cows by lenioia

He still remembers the first cup of tea Martin brought him. That’s where it began, not with the dog incident. A sweet and strong blend, reasons for appearance unknown, how could it taste so good, also unknown. Jon stares at what will be the last cup between them. His miserable parting gift. Where it’ll end.

Alt Mag 200, or in a slightly kinder universe which differs by exactly one cup of tea, Martin is the one who switches plan last minute, and Jon’s last half-backed scheme, for once, works.

An AU splitting off MAG 199/200, where Jon’s plan actually happens, but instead of it being quite so bleak he finds a new path with the help of Martin. I know the original ending of the series is probably the most hopeful one realistically, but we all enjoy our fixits here, so this is a really sappy “by the power of love” Jon and Martin save the universe and still get to live in it AU. Highly highly recommend, and it finished within the last 8 months, so it’s “on the newer side” as it were. If you haven’t read it, give it a shot, and if you’ve read it and it’s been awhile now’s a good time to read it again.

The Eyespot Chronicles (series) by SupposedToBeWriting

To Martin Blackwood's surprise, he wakes up in the ruins of the Magnus Institute. He thought he would be dead. The world is back to normal, the Entities are gone, and everyone realizes that it's finally over. The only sticking point is that Jon isn't exactly the Jon that went into the apocalypse. Never one to give up, Martin is determined to make a life for himself and his boyfriend. Even if he is a giant moth.

Summary taken from the first in the series, this trilogy of fics covers Jon and Martin’s attempts at healing in a world that remembers what happened. The first fic focuses entirely on Martin’s struggles, the second on Jon’s, and the 3rd (as you might guess) focuses on them both. The series is excellent, and if you’ve got the fortitude for canon-typical emotional constipation after having just experienced MAG-200 it’s well worth the read.

Another Guest for Mr. Spider by Dribbledscribbles

Jon isn't eating his statements like he should.

Mr. Spider doesn't like it.

Written in transcript format, this AU considers the idea of what if the Web was more hands on it it’s approach to getting Jon to Become more monstrous; or at least not starve himself out. Incredible read, you need an AO3 account though. But I have never been that spooked by a Statement or encounter before I read this fic. If you DO NOT like spiders on you or in your mouth and you don’t like reading about it either, potentially hold off on this fic, or at least skip from where Mr. Spider says “Open your mouth. Do not move.” to when he says “Wash it down with this. Now.” But yeah if you didn’t get enough spider trauma from canon, this fic gives it in spades! (And if you want Mr. Spider getting his comeuppance, you get that too ;) )

Illicio by ThatOneGirlBehindYou

As the new Archivist debates between life and death, the Eye ponders on what to offer him in order to avoid an encore of the unfortunate situation with his predecessor.

-----

Gerard Keay opens his eyes at what feels like fuck-ass in the morning, inside a room with far too little space and far too much dust.

A long form AU of what if Gerry Keay was brought back by the Eye to convince Jon to stay on team Monster if you will. Goes all the way through MAG-200, has some great twists and turns, and manages to turn into an “Everyone Lives AU” as well. While it is currently updating, it’s updating every week on Saturday till it finishes, and she only has 2 chapters left. If you’ve managed to never read this, now is certainly the time for it! It is Jon/Gerry/Martin, so if that’s not your exact cup of tea I’d still say give it a shot.

we should ride this wave to shore by ClarionGlass

“archives research & statement envestigation” Timothy Stoker renamed the group “drinks drinks drinks” Timothy Stoker changed Sasha James’s nickname to saucy sash Timothy Stoker changed Martin Blackwood’s nickname to martini kart Timothy Stoker changed his nickname to stonked stonked: so how bout it lads saucy sash: oh god. A TMA group chat fic where the worst problems they have to deal with start with "h" and end with "angovers"

Right, I don’t tend to read chat fics, I’m going to be honest with you all. I have two exceptions and this is one of them. It goes interesting places, the characters are not completely OOC, if it they are at least it’s consistent OOC and not in a grating way. But in all seriousness, I recommend this because of how it ties in with MAG 160 and 200; as well as how the sequel deals with canon S5. The sequel isn’t finished and is slow to update, but I am still recommending at the very least the first one. It’s a good romp and I highly recommend.

Ask an Exec: How to Navigate Cultish Colleagues, Soul-Stealing Bosses, and the End of the World at Work by shinyopals

I've recently been unexpectedly promoted to lead a department in my organisation, wrote the anonymous emailer.

As there was no one working here when I arrived, my manager, who is head of the organisation, had promised me the choice of my own assistants. However, without warning, he simply presented me with an additional assistant. This new assistant’s first act on his first day was to let a dog into the office. It took several hours to catch and clean up after this dog and it has only been downhill from there. I admit I'm not entirely sure what to do with this assistant now I'm stuck with him. I'm hoping you have some advice?

Kind regards, New Manager

Abigail Bailey runs a successful management advice blog. One frequent contributor is from a workplace with some... issues.

While this isn’t quite an AU and is basically canon compliant, I’m putting it here because it’s a “what if Jon was an avid seeker of advice on a management advice blog?” AU. It’s beautifully formatted, and features very in character interactions. If you are a sucker for the TMA trope: how do normal people react to the weirdness at the Institute, then this is a great fic for you. I know it’s probably one of the most popular things to have hit the Jonathan Sims tag on AO3 in recent months, but this is just me reminding you all it exists and well worth the re-read.

JMart Fluff

Author CirrusGrey

Literally anything by them. I think I probably recommend them every time I talk about JMart, but I think on AO3 they are both the most prolific and one of the best writers for the tag. Pick almost any fic they’ve written for TMA and it’s probably JMart. There’s too many fics of their’s to recommend, so I’ll just link you straight to their profile and you can go swimming from there lol.

Jon’s Moving Castle by IceEckos12

Martin Blackwood may not have a perfect life, but he does have a good one. That is, until a series of magical encounters leave him with an unfortunate curse. Out of other options, he goes to the wizard who lives in the moving castle for aid.

Life never goes how he intends it to, though.

Basically Howl’s Moving Castle, but with a TMA spin. You don’t need to have seen the movie to understand what’s going on, and honestly while it sticks fairly close to the movie, it doesn’t stick so close that it feels constrained by it in places where it wouldn’t make sense in the AU they’ve set up. It’s a very sweet JMart fic with a satisfying conclusion.

The 101 Kidnappings of Jonathan Sims (and Other Inconveniences) by beetlejoos

Martin Blackwood never applies for a job at the Magnus Institute. The universe seems determined that he meets Jonathan Sims anyway. But is it Fate, or something more sinister, that keeps bringing the two of them together?

Right, this mostly crack treated seriously. It’s got hurt/comfort, but it’s fairly light hearted throughout. As one could guess by the title and description, Jon is repeatedly kidnapped and brought to wherever Martin is living/working at the time. While it’s not done yet, and not on a schedule, the chapters that are out thus far are well worth the read. That and there’s some cute fan art for it that’s linked to in the end notes. But I recommend this because it’s got that vibe of S1 Jon meets S1 Martin outside of the Institute and romance (eventually) happens. Very fun read if you haven’t read it yet.

i think we’re alone now + alone-verse (series) by milliganopen

Just a couple of guys breaking into a basement. What could go wrong?

Getting trapped in your apartment with your boss, that's what.

Season 1 re-imagined if Jon and Martin had been trapped by Jane Prentiss together.

Initially I recommended this back when we had hit MAG039/022 because it was a great AU to Martin’s Statement where Jon also gets trapped in Martin’s apartment during Martin’s no good very bad 2 weeks of worm siege. HOWEVER, the author has since continued this series and is slowly working their way through canon one season/fic at a time. They’re currently on S3, and I am definitely keeping an eye on it for whenever the next update happens. If you haven’t had the time to check it out, it’s got some very good JMart moments, and their relationship manages to move faster than a glacier.

Fate, or Something by HermaeusMora

"You can't be serious." Jonathan Sims raises his eyes at last to properly look at Georgie, expecting her to laugh and make some quip about finally getting him to put the damn book down, at least.

"Well, I am," she shoots back.

He sets his book aside and turns fully towards her, betrayal clear on his face. "A blind date, really?"

Jon makes the frankly terrible decision to go on a blind date with one Martin Blackwood. Fate ensues. AU where Jon and Georgie are still friends, Georgie likes finding dates for her friends, Martin doesn't work at the institute, and everyone is just a bit happier while canon spooky stuff goes on in the background. Takes place juuust barely pre-canon in the beginning but catches up quickly. Inspired as usual by the wonderful conversations with my friend RavenXavier/somuchbetterthanthat.

A fun AU that challenges the idea that Jon and Martin are incompatible a la MAG199. Excellently done and well worth the time to check it out.

Diary by luftballoons99

Not for the first time since they ran away together, a camera reel of all the things they don't know about one another whirs behind Martin's eyes, and he can't help but look at all the sprawling magnetic tape and wonder if they’re going to wind up a romance or a tragedy.

or: Office parties, garage bands, and the joy of being known.

A bit of a bittersweet mostly fluff oneshot focused on Jon and Martin having a night in at the Safehouse and talking about good things from their pasts. (Warning, the sequel is rated E(xplicit) for a reason, so I am only recommending Diary. Both are stand alone however.)

Weaving My Heartstrings by arms_full_of_hyacinths

At least he was someone. Someone who could deal with the spiders. That was probably the source of the nerves unspooling like magnetic tape to fill Jon’s stomach with buzzing static butterflies.

Yes, Martin was much bigger than a spider. He was probably the kind of person who cupped them in his hands and talked to them as he walked them out into the garden, which shouldn’t be giving Jon a burst of warm feeling at all, since his preferred method of spider disposal was simply to squash them on sight.

Martin likes Jon almost as much as Jon hates spiders. When a statement from an institute employee sends them spiraling into the center of a complicated web, they'll need to rely on each other if they want to make it out alive.

Bit of an odd suggestion to close us out, but this one is a fun almost episodic plot about an original Statement and the shenanigans Jon and Martin get into trying to research it. It’s very good, features some very on point S1 Jon and Martin along with a bit of a fast forward on their relationship throughout.

And with that, I’ve probably overstayed my welcome lol. I hope you found something new to read! If not, I at least hope that you had fun rereading some old faves. This has taken me a day or two to compile and format, so I hope you all enjoy in whatever capacity that ends up being! Happy end of A Mag A Day, and it was a joy walking alongside you all. Congrats to A MAG A Day blog owners on all your hard work for the last ~210 days and with this post I wish you all a very fond farewell.

#a mag a day #the magnus archives #mag 200 #tma fic rec #fic rec #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jonmartin #jmart #georgie #melanie

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