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rogue-durin-16 · 3 years

Text

HIS WARM EYES

Summary: Some members of the Order are reticent about letting in a Lestrange, specially after Snape's betrayal. Whilst taking Harry to the the burrow, an ambush has place. Everything points to Y/n, right?

Pairing: George Weasley x Slytherin!Lestrange!Reader

Genre: angst

Tags:

George Weasley: @meph1stophelian

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog @amourtentiaa @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @skarlettmikaelson

Warnings: blood, injuries, death

A/N: OH MY GOD THIS IS SO LONG AND BAD— I AM GENUINELY SORRY BUT I HAD TO

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

Lestrange wasn't a good name.

It wasn't a good name in the streets, nor in close-doors, let alone amongst The Order.

That's why I couldn't wrap my head around the fact that they had accepted me— well, maybe 'accepted' was a strong word; they had let me in, reticent, weary, but still they had done it. Plus, after Snape's betrayal and Dumbledore's death, no one would think there was a vacant for a Slytherin and a Lestrange.

It wasn't until I found myself exiting the abandoned Grimauld's Place along with the rest of the volunteers to go to Privet Drive, that it dawned on me; they were short on people.

They were so short on people that the Order would have to swallow my name, my family and my House.

That didn't mean they would quiet down their opinions about me being there.

"I'm gonna say it." Fred announced, taking a spot in the living room's corner while Shacklebolt, Arthur and Lupin searched the place.

"Again?" Fleur groaned.

Fred had already spoken his mind about my presence before we reached Potter's house.

His and George's shocked looks had been on me since the very first moment I had walked into the old Black's home, which was understandable; last time they saw me I was joking about joining the death eaters.

Although the shock on their faces had been accompanied by very different emotions on each.

Fred's held reticence. During our school years, he had never liked me; I would dare to say he was scared of me, even.

George's gaze, on the other hand, held hope —maybe even excitement— which was comforting.

In our first year, I had managed to draw George's interest, and for three years he was adamant about Slytherins not being 'all that bad'.

George's friendship was the thread I was hanging on; he was the only thing stopping from taking the easy way and live up to my name.

The thread was cut after he asked his mother to bring me over during Christmas, which ended up in her forbidding him to talk to me. He, being George Weasley, ignored his mom's pleads and twin's scolding and still tried his best to stay close to me, so I did what was right and, at the end of our fifth year, I cut ties with him.

It hurt more than I would dare to admit.

After our drifting apart, I was forced to completely rely on Slytherins. And you see, Slytherins, as 11 year-old George would say, aren't all that bad, but the ones my name attracted were.

They were bad sort —the worst—, and keeping that company around after our sixth year wasn't the best record to have, but Merlin's sake, I was there, I had volunteered— people change.

"Son." His father warned Fred, well aware this wasn't the time, though he obviously wanted to side with him. "Don't start again."

"Someone has yet to tell me why is she here?"

"She has a name." I hissed, unable to stop myself.

"Which is why you shouldn't be here, Lestrange." The name rolled out of his tongue like poison. "She's not one to trust."

"Oi, she's willing to risk her life, isn't she?" George's words seemed to be meant to calm his twin's temper, though his warm eyes did land on mines with a reassuring look.

"Yeah but for whom?" I tried to stay quiet as Moody had asked me too, but Fred was making it quite difficult. "If something goes wrong—"

"Weasley!" Mad-eye's tone was dry as he bursted into the room. "Are you questioning my judgment?" Fred scoffed, but stayed quiet.

"If we're throwing in the surnames, you're gonna wanna know her mum's my auntie." Tonks spoke, folding her arms.

"But you're a Hufflepuff." He was quick to respond, giving me a disgusted look. "She's a Serpent."

"And you're still a mouthful, aren't you?!" I snapped, stepping forward, though Tonks gave me a lazy tug before I could get to Fred.

"Wanna fight, Lestrange?" He had taken a couple of steps in my direction already when George yanked his twins arm.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" He yelled, giving his brother a push. "She's here for Harry! She's helping! What else do you want?!"

"Oh my gosh, Georgie— get over your teen crush already, she's not on our team!" George's knuckles went visibly white, unlike his cheeks, which turned red.

"Are you done making a scene? The three of you." Bill questioned in a calm tone, resting against the window's bench. "I don't fancy the idea either, but we need help, Fred, so shut your mouth because we have things to do."

"Pity, I was enjoying the teen drama." Moody teased before grabbing his flask and the ones who would take the Polyjuice potion moved to stand in line.

"Y/n." George's hand brushed my hand, drawing my attention to him as we stood besides one another. "I'm glad you're here." He whispered with a side smile.

"Missed me much?" I couldn't help but grin back, bumping his arm with mine. I stole a proper look at him and thought I might as well ask before the mission. "So... Teen crush huh?" I wiggled my eyebrows at him, though I could feel my own face flushing.

I'd be lying if I said I didn't fancy George —could someone blame me?—, and the idea of those feelings not being unrequited was very appealing.

He only threw his head back and looked away, the half smile growing wider and more bashful. "We'll talk about it at the Burrow." He assured me, taking the flask with his right hand and squeezing mine with his left.

"If we don't die before that." I was joking, but fear was shaking me to the core.

"We won't." He looked at the potion disgusted and gave me a peeked at me saying, "You have to hear me embarrass myself first." And with a wink, he drank the potion and passed it to me.

Gosh, I couldn't get over the mission to hear him 'embarrass' himself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

GEORGE'S P. O. V.

The first five minutes were calm, despite all of us being on edge. We kept checking on each other, dreading if we lost sight of someone, that someone would banish.

The storm came when we had to dive into the dark clouds.

Funnily enough, I did think it was a literal storm before entering; oh, what I would have given for it to be a literal storm.

Black, cloaked intruders flew among us, making us divide in the pairs we had been assigned to.

Lupin started casting protegos and hexes to everyone that got too close while I tried to take down as many enemies as possible.

A couple of yelled warnings were heard when both Moody and the real Harry had entered the ambush.

"WATCH OUT!" Tonks screamed, flying past me with Ron at her tail. "REMUS!" She made a signal to her husband "ESCORT!" I got the hint; we were supposed to clear Moody's and Y/n's way so it would confuse our attackers while Tonks and Shacklebolt made sure to get Harry out of there.

"ON MY LEFT!" Lupin shouted over the chaos, changing to my right for me to be by Y/n's side.

"WE'RE FUCKED!" She yelled dropping her flight to dodge an Avada Kedavra.

"WE'LL MANAGE!" I automatically dropped my flight with hers too, which was a bad decision, since we had gotten rid of the protection provided by Lupin, Mad-eye and Bill and Fleur.

Soon enough three death eaters came flying towards us.

"STUPEFY!" another Harry with the voice of Fred passed by us, closely followed by my dad.

"GO BACK UP!" Y/n was quicker than me following my father's instructions; when I did though, I realised the little formation we had going on was gone.

Suddenly, all we could hear were screams; it felt as if someone was missing but I blamed it on everyone flying around like a chicken with its head cut off.

Tonks almost crashed against me on her way down; Ron was nowhere near me, nor Lupin.

We were outnumbered, and instead of moving forward, we were stuck in the grey clouds, trying not to die.

It took me a hot second, a crash against a death eater and a couple of hexes to get to Lupin, and even when I did, it was a hard task to keep track of him.

I had just taken out someone in my way when I caught a glimpse of something my eyes refused to believe.

Snape.

Our bloody professor was trying to kill us.

I felt the need to laugh at the situation.

"GEORGE!" It was Y/n's voice snapping me out of it, although her actions shocked me even more.

Y/n casted a spell on me, pushing my broomstick to the left and consequently making me crash against Lupin and lose balance.

Then something happened, something my mind didn't quite process.

At first it felt like a slap, but the pain stung my side as if someone had sliced me with a blade.

I didn't hear my own cry, nor Lupin's desperate 'help'; I didn't feel his hands struggling to take a firm hold of me, nor my own shakily reaching to my side, searching for an injury I didn't want to find.

A second after that, everything was black.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

FRED'S P. O. V.

As soon as my father and I apparated in the fields of our home, I ran into the house. For some unexplainable reason, it felt as if something wasn't right.

A couple of steps into the house were enough for that 'something' to strike me. George had been laid on the settee, barely conscious; blood was covering the side of his face, neck and left shoulder, making his hair and clothes stick to his skin.

I was left speechless at the sight, my eyes welling up while I dragged my feet towards my twin.

"Mad-Eye is dead." Bill's words, despite sounding far away, made the gears in my head turn.

Lupin was quicker than me, though, "I told you we couldn't trust a Lestrange!"

"Remus! we don't know—" Tonks tried to calm him down, just to be cut off by Bill.

"Mad-Eye and Lestrange traveled between us and" he gestured at our wounded brother, "Remus and George." His jaw twitching let me know that he was desperately trying to stay calm. "Mad-Eye is dead and my brother just lost an ear, who is it if not bloody Lestrange, Dora?"

"Bill..." Fleur held onto her fiance's arm in an attempt to ground him.

"Did you see her disapparating?" Tonks's point was logical and hopeful.

George would have sided with her.

My eyes fixed on my wounded twin again. He was as pale as a corpse now, and the absence of his ear was way more noticeable now that my mother had begun to remove the blood.

George would have sided with Tonks because he wanted to trust Y/n, and he couldn't even speak because of that same reason.

Since everyone was arguing, they missed the flash of someone apparating near the front door.

I didn't.

Before I knew it, I was running outside with my wand in hand, Lupin and Bill following me instantly when they realised what I had just seen.

"EXPELLIARMUS!" Y/n's wand flew to my hand even before I could properly see her.

My rushed march came to a halt when I was a couple of feet away from her, making Bill bump into me; she was as pale as George, maybe more.

She took a seemingly calm, deep breath before attempting to walk.

Luckily, I saw the pools of blood on her shirt and stepped to reach her before she could touch the ground.

"Oh my..." Lupin covered his mouth with both his hands and Bill stood frozen at the sight of the girl in my arms. "MOLLY!!" my old professor yelled at the top of his lungs, going as livid as me.

We shouldn't talk on impulse, I told myself, rushing into the kitchen with Y/n in my arms. A series of gasps and regretful whispers broke the silence while I laid her on the dining table.

"Y/n?" George's trembling voice was heartbreaking, and, as my dad forced him to stay on the couch, I prayed the girl in my arms would survive.

"Oh Lord..." My mother muttered, examining her. It wasn't only her shirt stained with blood; her left leg and arm were too. "Oh dear..."

"She took the blow." Lupin ran his hands through his hair, understandably stressed. After a couple of seconds, her turned to my dad and commanded, "Get him up. Quick— go get him up." His eyes stared right into my soul and I dreaded the worst, but still obeyed and helped my dad drag George to the dining table.

I heard Lupin telling Bill something about Sectumsempra, and my heart sunk.

She took the blow.

"No..." George's murmur was close to a cry, but it was enough for Y/n's eyes to snap open.

"George." tears were effortlessly streaming down her cheeks at the sight of him. "You're... A-alive..."

"Please stay" My brother fell on his knees, reaching for Y/n's bloody hand with his own. We all looked away to give them some kind of intimacy, except from my mother, who was still trying to fix the poor girl.

I heard them both whispering sweet nothings with shattered voices until only one of them died out. I looked over to Tonks, whose eyes were gleaming with tears, and then to Lupin.

I couldn't bring myself to look at George.

After a moment of intense sobbing, my dad managed to pull my twin away from the corpse, and we carried him back to the settee.

I stayed with him the night, holding his hand and assuring him it was not his fault, but I knew my words would have little effect on his state; after all, he had been in love with Y/n for years.

All those years he had spent trying to convince all of us that Y/n was a good person, that we should give her a chance; all those years begging our mother to bring her over because she wanted to see our home.

Now her body was lying on our kitchen and I knew none of us would forgive ourselves for misjudging her.

READER'S P. O. V.

"Nervous?" A tall, redheaded kid appeared besides me; I supposed he didn't know my name by the warmth and curiosity with which his eyes stared at me.

"Aren't we all?" I replied with an anxious laugh.

He seemed to think for a moment before nodding. "Fair point, though I'll probably go into Gryffindor." He assured me with a proud smile, causing my head to cast down. "What is it?"

"Oh nothing," I shrugged, aware I would not be able to befriend that sweet boy with warm eyes. "I think I'll be sorted into Slytherin."

"Nonsense!" His intentions had been obviously to reassure me, but when he realised his response only made it worse, he added. "It'd be wicked to have a Slytherin friend, though." My eyes widened at his words; did he just— "I'm George, by the way."

"I'm Y/n."

"That's a very pretty name." Professor Mcgonagall led us into the Great Hall, and before I knew what was happening, George's hand was holding mine. "It'll be fine."

The lighting of the Castle changed once the Great Hall's doors opened; a bright, white light seemed to be coming out of it.

"Wait!" My hand gripped George's before he could leave my side. "Can you hold my hand? I-I'm scared." My voice no longer sounded like a 11 year old.

For some reason I didn't comprehend, my eyes were watery, making the view in front of me blurry.

"Don't be scared, darling." When I turned to George, I didn't see a kid; it was him, in the expensive suit I had seen him mere hours ago. "I'm here."

I just nodded and, swallowing my fear, took a step ahead, and then another one, and another, until I reached the Great Hall.

#harry potter fanfiction #george wealsey x reader #george weasley x y/n #george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley fanfic #george weasley angst #george x y/n #george x reader #george x reader angst #george weasley one shot #the seven potters #deathly hallows #deadly hallows part 1 #hp fic #hp dh

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wqlfstqr · 3 years

Text

◟𖥻 ♡⃕ ៹ ·˚ ༘ ◡̈ she wasn't you ཿ remus lupin

▰▰▰ pairing(s): young!remus lupin x fem!reader, young!james potter x fem!reader (platonic)

summary: remus realizes that he was looking for y/n in other people

warning: a little jealousy ig, probably some grammar mistakes since english is not my first language :)

a/n: this is my first post and is honestly such a mess, I didn't even know what I was writing half of the time but I really liked the result so here ya go!!

words count: 1868

slightly inspired by this scene from secret admirer

ㅤㅤㅤy/n had always loved hogsmeade, especially in snowy times, there was something about the town that used to made her very happy and excited about the days they were allowed to visit the place. However, that saturday morning she wasn't as thrilled about the trip as always, and she was even willing to stay at bed all day while her friends went to have fun.

“cmon, you never miss an oportunity to go to hogsmeade” pleaded james while the girl covered herself with blankets up to the neck

“y'know what they say, there's always a first time for everything” she shrugged.

“is this about remus?” potter ventured to ask, making the girl freeze in her spot.

“what about remus?” she asked back, trying to act nonchalantly, the boy raised his eyebrowns at her in pure disbelief.

“I know that you know that he has a date, y/n/n” he said cautiously, waiting to see the reaction of his best friend, who hid further under the sheets as a response

"really? didn't know, guess people find out new things every day huh” she kept acting like she didn't know, like that wasn't the reason she was in bed at two in the afternoon, but she was a pretty bad liar and the way james knew her, probably better than anyone, didn't help at all

“listen to me y/n, I know that you fancy him and I know it's been like this for a while but this is probably for the better” james sighned, sitting on the edge of his bed, where she was laying with the covers covering most of her face “I love moony, and i'm very happy for him, but you deserve more than being sad in bed for someone that doesn't see how amazing you are”

y/n poked her head out of the covers, a very little smile crossing her face as she extended her arms towards james who quickly understood and took her in his own arms, hugging her and stroking her tousled hair with a smile. she felt safe, she always felt safe being with james, as if her worries were silly and there was nothing in the world that could hurt her.

“I still don't want to go to hogsmeade” she mumbled, her face hiding in the crook of his neck “I appreciate what you're doing for me, really, but I just want to sleep and forget about all this, just for today”

“then I'll stay with you” james replied, laying down and dragging y/n with him, determined not to let her go.

“but you should go, you deserve some fun and peter and sirius are waiting for you, you guys probably had a lot of plans for today.” she babbled, shoking her head.

“I'm pretty sure they can survive a few hours without me” james insisted and y/n knew he wasn't going to give up.

“can they? 'cause I bet sirius would die after fifteen minutes without you” she said jokingly, closing her eyes with a smile peeking out of her face as she heard james laughing

“he can figure how to survive just for today, I'm not gonna leave you alone drowning in your own misery” he joked, but the determination was clear in his voice.

y/n didn't bother to reply, knowing he would keep insisting, James Potter was for sure stubborn as hell and once he had proposed something, it was impossible to get the idea out of his head. So she sighned and, without talking more, she made herself comfortable in his arms, her eyes still closed as the world began to disappear around her and a feeling of peace started settling in her chest as the minutes passed slowly.

“shut up, you're gonna wake them up" sirius' voice flooded y/n's ears, followed by the sound of a door being opened

"no need, you already did" replied peter watching at the bed where his two friends were laying.

indeed, y/n began to slowly open her eyes while letting out a small yawn but remus was too frozen in his place to even react to that, a very strange feeling hitting his stomach as his head replayed over and over the scene his own eyes had witnessed seconds before; y/n laying on top of James, her face hidden in his chest while the boy hugged her around the waist, both of them fast asleep over the messy sheets.

“hey guys, how was hogsmeade?” she said, releasing herself from james's grasp to sit next to him, a tired smile crossing her face as she watched the other three marauders.

“it was pretty boring withou-” peter's sentence was left unfinished and the words lost in the air as remus spoke above him.

“we spend the whole afternoon looking for you two” he looked angry and y/n's tiredness disappeared quickly, being remplaced with surprise at the actitude of the boy.

“the hell's happening?” muttered james, his voice sounding sleepy as he narrowed his eyes at his friends

“we can ask you the same question" replied remus bitterly “did you even think how bloody worried we were?”

“moony what the fuck, It wasn't a big deal, we just fell asleep.” james was still half asleep, maybe too much to deal with the situation.

“you know what, prongs? I just remembered we bought a bunch of stuff from zonko's” sirius was fast to intervene, walking towards potter's bed “why don't we go watch it? I thought we could think of some way to use them”

before james could even respond, sirius lifted him completely out of bed and dragged him to the door, james tripping over his own feet while trying to walk on his own as peter didn't waste time following them. y/n got up too, with the intention of following them but sirius quickly closed the door before she could even get to it.

she understood the message very clear, exhaling before she turned to look at the only boy left; remus put his hands to his own face to hide behind them, letting out an exasperated sigh. the girl approached him quietly without saying anything, the two of them falling in a silence for some very long minutes.

“what happened to you?” she hesitated before asking, eyeing him with discretion.

“do you like him?” the answer was obviusly not expected by y/n, who seemed to have been taken by surprise “I mean james, do you like him?”

“what are you talking about?” she laugned with disbelief, but when she saw how serious remus was, she sighed “of course not”

“it's you who I like, prat” she wanted to tell him, but she bit her tongue just in time not to let go of anything that she would regret later, falling silent as she watched remus nooding slowly with his head.

“why do you care anyway” she questioned instead, crossing her arms under her chest.

“you two are my best friends, of course I care” y/n felt the disappointment roll her stomach at the answer. That was not the answer she was expecting.

“how was your date?” she quickly changed the subject, even though a part of her didn't want to know the answer.

“oh great, yeah, she's great” He rambled on, glancing at y / n sideways before speaking again “but...”

“but...” she encouraged, biting her lower lip while looking at the floor.

“but...” remus hesitated, scratching the back of his neck as a million thoughts ran through his head “she was great but she wasn't you”

she quickly raised her head, allowing remus a view of her tear-filled eyes but she didn't care about that, her biggest concern was the way her heart was starting to beat fast, almost as if it was treatening to jump off her chest in any moment.

“what do you mean?” she gulped, feeling a lump in her throat that didn't allow her to fully form the words.

“she was talking about all those things and she was really interesting you know? or so I thought, because I wasn't really paying attention” he admitted, shutting his eyes for a minute “I wasn't paying attention 'cause the only thing I could think about was that she wasn't you”

y/n had always liked remus, and she really didn't think anyone could blame her for it, was there really something not to like? Remus was pretty, kind and incredibly charming, he was a great friend, extremely smart and responsible when it was necessary but at the same time he could be so much fun when he was around the people he felt comfortable with. if anyone thought about the perfect human prototype, then the closest thing to that would have to be remus lupin.

so being there in that exact moment, standing in front of him after hearing what he had to say, she felt all the words get stuck in her throat as she locked eyes with him.

“it just wasn't what I thought it was supposed to be” he continued, feeling nervous as the time passed and there was no response from her “I expected her to be like... you.”

she had dreamed of situations similar to that for so long, she had waited for something like that for years and now that she had remus telling her all that, looking completely serious, she didn't know how to respond and that made her feel slightly frustrated, because she could see the desperation growing in lupin's eyes as time passed.

“I just want you to know that I don't expect you to feel the same, but I just can't keep it all to myself anymore” he kept babbling and was only interrumpted when y/n finally reacted.

and she did the only thing that crossed her mind, approaching him and pulling him by the collar of his shirt to bring their lips together in a kiss that caught remus off guard and he only reacted seconds later, realizing that everything was real and not just a product of his imagination; his shoulders relaxing as he raised one of his hands to her chin, the other hand resting on her waist. Their lips danced together for a few seconds, fitting perfectly, almost as if they were made for each other and everything around them disappeared, the world stopping its course during that moment.

“I don't like james” she repeated, as she had done minutes before, her breathing was agitated as she rested her forehead on his “I don't like him because I like you, you idiot”

remus smile grew while he leaned to give her a little peek on the lips, only to be interrumpted by a sniff coming from the entry of the room, the two of them quickly pulling apart to put their glances towards the place, only to find three people standing right there, each one with the same smile on their faces.

“well aren't you two adorable?” teased sirius, with a grin on his face.

“you guys seriously don't know boundaries, do you?" y/n asked, only realizing her mistake once she saw sirius smiling even more.

“we siriusly don't”

#remus lupin imagine #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #james potter x reader #harry potter #harry potter imagine #marauders imagine #remus lupin fanfiction #marauders fanfiction #remus lupin one shot

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alexthefly · 2 years

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So, I finally watched the 2004 Thunderbirds movie, and I have some thoughts...

First of all, this is completely, entirely, 100% @uniwolfcorn's fault.

Secondly, yes it's true. Never watched it. Not even accidentally.

Until now.

Come with me on this journey and listen to my insane ramblings...

- So this is a nice little credits sequen-

- JONATHAN FREAKIN' FRAKES?!?! You're telling me this movie was directed by Commander William Riker?!

- This teacher is giving me Colonel Casey vibes...

- How did this reporter lady get to the oil rig before the boys did?

- Okay, Fermat is adorable and I would die for him. ❤️

- So, our first look at the Thunderbirds in action...

... ::adjusts brightness settings:: ...Nope, still nothing...

- What did they do to FAB1? It's gone from classy machine with classic lines to a goddamn bubble car!

- "Try not to run over any children, Parker." Gee, thanks for that M'lady, I was just h'about to plow h'into them like they was bowling pins(!)

:SNORT:

- Wait, that's not...Fuse, is it?

- Ah, finally a decent look at the 'birds: hmmm, One looks pretty good, but Two seems a bit...Flight of the Navigator?

- Hmmm, perhaps TAG has spoiled me with all the lovely brotherly cuteness, 'cos this dinner scene is not it. Movie Jeff is a big improvement on TOS though.

- Alan, I know you're upset, but you let Fermat finish his dinner goddammit!

- Yay John! Oh, this scene is just gorgeous! John the agony aunt and voice of reason, Jeff worrying about his sons and talking to them like a dad instead of just a commander... It's just so damn wholesome. ::chef kiss::

- Thunderbird Five actually looks pretty goo- ...Aaand they blew it up. 😱 John!!!

- Five: ::floating around in bits::

- "So this is Mount Olympus, and these are the Thunderbirds..." Oof. Mixing your mythologies there, Hood.

- "Like a puppet on a string." ::Sobs in meta::

- Hood: [resumes monologuing]

- Wait, that reporter got to the scene again? In Singapore? *Checks notes* Wasn't she in Russia?

- "Don't you think Tintin is blossoming?" 😳 #cringe

- First question from Jeff is whether the kids are safe, and be still my heart!

- Hoverbikes!!!

- Alan's being a reckless idiot and OH NO YOU DID NOT JUST MOCK MY ANGEL'S STUTTER!!!

- This chase sequence is...oof. Was it always bad, or is it just the naughties CGI shining through?

- UnFuse coming in strong with the evil laugh there...

- Again, brotherly dynamics here is...off: Scott losing hope, Gordon being a condescending knob? Uh-uh. Nope.

- Jeff: "He's a Tracy." 🤍🤍🤍

- Parker is an absolute treasure and I love him.

- Penny, stop quipping and spinning like a top; just kick her in the face!

- "Don't go to sleep." 😭😭😭😭😭

- "We've got to be quick; the Hood is getting away." ...Aaaand your father and brothers? Remember them? Suffocating in space?

- ::gasp:: Two is launching! Cannot wait for this!!

- Bra jokes. 🙄😩 This whole last ten minutes has been a hard steer off the edge of a cliff, quality-wise. Not happy...

- WHAT IN THE NAME OF ALL THAT IS GOOD AND PURE HAVE THEY DONE TO HER UNDERCARRIAGE?!?!?! HOW DARE?!?!?!

- OK, Brains yelling Jeff awake makes everything better! 👓😁 Very very silly but I am here for it.

- That little nod between John and Jeff is everything. 🥰

- ...I see Lady P found time to change outfits during this very urgent and time-sensitive crisis.

- Ah, the obligatory product placement for... Wall's Ice Cream? 😶 Huh.

- The same bloody reporter's in London now!! Seriously, it's been what, a couple of hours tops! Did the studio spring for a bloody TARDIS?

- Accident Zone? Accident Zone?! Firstly, it's clearly not an accident, and secondly, 🔥😡🤬🔥

- Thunderbird Four! ... ::resumes squinting::

- That steering mechanism is going to play murder on their elbows... That said, this rescue sequence is kinda fun.

- The boys cheering and whooping for Alan and Tintin made my heart sing! Why wasn't there more of this earlier?

- Did Lady P get changed AGAIN?!

- And apparently she also forgot all the cool martial arts she knew half an hour ago...

- Aww, Jeff and Alan having a moment. ❤️🤍

- Mr Scriptwriter, if you need a character to be kept alive when by all logic the bad guys should kill her, don't bring that fact up and then leave it totally unresolved! You don't need to start pointing the movie's flaws out to us - we can see them.

- Parker and Fermat my beloveds!

- Veering between awful bits and lovely bits is starting to give me whiplash...

- 🤣😂🤣 The Hood's gone full M Bison! 🤣

- Jeff displaying genuine fear for Alan's safety is giving me life right now.

- "I don't want to save your life, but it's what we do." ::bounces excitedly:: Grandma and Scott said it better in TAG, but the sentiment is the same and I'm thrilled!

- "See you soon, Jeff." Did they...did they think there was going to be a sequel?! Bless their hearts.

- The boys are all dicking about in the pool together and everything is right with the world. ☺️🥰

- See? I knew that "blossoming" thing was creepy!!

- I'm not going to mention John's mutant healing abilities. Not at all. Nope.

- They ALL get to be Thunderbirds? Fermat my baby!!

...You and me both, Parker. 🥲

- Pink pedalo. Because reasons. Apparently.

- 🎶YOU KNOW THE LID'S ABOUT TO BLOW, WHEN THE THUNDERBIRDS ARE GO! 🎵

FINAL THOUGHTS

It absolutely had its flaws but honestly? Not even close to as bad as I thought it would be. Perhaps in 2004 I would have been mad, but today, knowing that TAG exists and fixed so much of what went wrong here, I can dig it. 👍

#most verbose #I enjoyed it really #mostly #thunderbirds 2004 #Alex watches stuff

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me4gumi-moved · 3 years

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i love your writing!! can you please do more of the fluffy dad dabi??

canker

aw thank you, lovebug <3 i haven't written anything for bnha in a while so it's nice to have a change of pace. this was kinda inspired by my own childhood, hence dabi smoking in this. hope you enjoy :) (also testing out a new format for posts but i doubt i’ll keep it LMFAO)

warnings: manga spoilers for dabi's identity, gn!child!reader, single dad!dabi, and tattooed!dabi, au where he didn't become a villain because he was too busy trying to keep a human child alive, mentions of cancer (not in an angsty way)

if someone told dabi 5 years ago he'd have a kid of his own, they would've left the scene with a bloody nose and a black eye. him? a father? with a snot-nosed brat clinging to his leg? hah! fat chance in hell that was.

turns out it was actually a petite chance in heaven.

now, if someone told him 4 years 11 months ago he'd have a kid of his own, he'd be showing off baby pictures instead of getting physically violent. it's crazy how much can change in just one month. he never would've thought he'd have bottles of formula in his fridge and a container of instant baby oatmeal in his cabinet. oh, and don't forget the soggy half eaten cheerios he finds all over the house.

but months pass, seasons change, birthdays come and ago, and before you know it you've got a five year old saying you look old and that you're going to get lung "canker" from smoking too much. kids were too damn smart for their own good.

dabi kept an eye on the gremlin sitting at the coffee table eating sugary-sweet cereal and watching early morning cartoons in their dinosaur jammies while eating his own bowl of cereal. "having white hair doesn't mean i'm old, (y/n)." he nudged his kid with his foot.

they slowly peeled their eyes away from the tv to look at him, "but only old people have white hair. like grandma." dabi's pretty sure there's a kid in their class with white hair so he's not sure how that logic works. "so you must be old, too." (y/n) focused back on their cartoons, sitting up on their knees when the episode was reaching its climax.

"i'm only 26."

"and i'm this many." they held five fingers up, not once looking back at dabi. he sighed in exasperation yet understanding. he supposed that to a 5 year old, 26 is ancient.

putting down his empty bowl, he pulled out his pack of cigarettes and walked over to a window he'd opened earlier in the morning. with a flick of his finger he lit one up and took a drag. "you can't keep saying this many when you say how old you are," he spoke around the cigarette, smoke flowing from his nostrils. "you gotta start saying the numb-"

"you're gonna get lung canker and die if you keep smoking." (y/n) looked back at dabi, scolding him. a child scolding their parent -- not something you see every day. unless your name is touya todoroki. which just so happens to be his.

tapping the ash off the end of his cigarette, dabi locked eyes with them, "it's pronounced can-sur, not canker."

"i don't like it when you smoke."

"why's that?"

"it makes you sick and when you're sick you can't play with me."

dabi wasn't expecting an answer like that. he thought his kid was just going to say something along the lines of "it makes you stink" and not "you can't spend time with me." he had to admit, smoking did give him some horrible colds that were ten times worse than the ones he got as a kid, leaving him bedridden and having to ask his parents or siblings to watch (y/n) until he's better.

he dragged his free hand down his face -- this was like a punch to the gut. dabi knew he wasn't the best parent out there but he at least thought he was decent enough to keep his brat happy and not worrying about stuff a kid shouldn't have to worry about. "alright, c'mere." he gestured them over to window, where they quickly padded over and latched onto his side.

dabi leaned out the window and knocked on the one next door. it immediately opened to reveal the next door neighbor, bubaigawara jin. "hey, jin, you want these?" he fished out his pack and waved them in front of him.

jin shrugged and took it from him, "sure, i'll take 'em. you get the wrong brand or something?" he flipped it around in his hands, looking for the answer himself.

"nah. my kiddo wants me to stop so i'm doing just that." he pat (y/n)'s head as he said that, despite knowing jin couldn't see the action.

"that's admirable. can't say i'd be able to do the same but i guess that's why i don't have kids." jin shook his head.

"thanks man. i'll catch you later."

"later."

closing the window, dabi looked back down at the snot-nosed brat clinging to his leg. "see? now daddy wont get sick anymore." picking (y/n) up and resting them on his hip, he walked back over to the couch, "now, what are we watching?"

dabi couldn't stop the smile on his face as he listened to them babble on about the cartoon they were watching. him from 5 years ago didn't know what he was missing out on.

#bnha x reader #dabi x reader #todoroki x reader #bnha imagines

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verobatto · 3 years

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Unrequited Destiel...

The Legend of The Sun and The Moon

I just wanted to explain in a few words to those that are asking why Dean didn't reply to Cas or why is Jensen talking about angelical way to feel things.

I know they're a lot of post saying WE TOLD YOU THIS AND THAT, and is true. Because if you read my Destiel Chronicles from the beginning, you will see I ALWAYS CALLED THE UNREQUITED LOVE FROM CAS AND DEAN'S POV.

Some of you disbelieves this idea, but is the only way to intepretate why Destiel is the slowest slow burn ever.

No more intro, let's suffer together...

Season 4 and 5 JUST A FLIRTING GAME

Once Dean was pulled out from Hell, Castiel wanted to talk with him. He didn't wait a second. Things blew and it was messy, and even Bobby was scared that that thing would hurt his idjit. But it was just Cas, trying to speak with Dean, desperately trying to reach him in his true form. Why? Because he wanted to talk with him. He had to explain Dean's mission but also, he felt fascinated. And even more after their first meeting face to face when he was finally able to find a vessel.

And Dean just it took him just a little of his time to feel the same fascination. The almighty angel, that could see right through his soul.

But also the angel that said things like...

And we have the handprint too, such an intimate sign between these two.

Castiel showing him, honestly showing him with words and actions, his special interest on him:

"My superiors begun to question my sympathies. I was getting too close to the humans in my charge. You."

How would Dean take this here? The poor guy just decided to check out the angel, and speechless as he was at that moment, couldn't reply to it. "Is he flirting with me? Does he know how gay this sounds?"

Then Cas rebel against Heaven for Dean. Dean pushed him, the whole he pushed Cas to help him. If you rewatch season 4 Dean is constantly asking Cas to help him. Because he already know Cas was different. Because he felt Cas was his friend, his ally, and something else it was growing up in his chest.

While Cas pushed him against the wall, cut his forearm and drew the sigil, Dean's face is full of awe. He can't believe this soldier powerful angel is doing this for him.

And then... "We're making it up as we go."

Gif credit @cyxnrose

The beginning of season 5 is a very busy Cas searching for God, but also, the flirtation begins. Dean is like a cute boy flirting with his crush. The second meaning jokes, trying to figure out if Cas catch it is hilarious. But he will understand 'Cas doesn't understand that reference.'

From Dean's POV in these two season, we coul under he thinks angels are junk less.

Season 6: The profound Bond and the Longing

The romantic feeling from both sides began to flow even more when Castiel goes into the black side, and the first Destiel break up appears infron of our eyes in the middle of a very romantic scenes.

Gif credit @starlightcastiel

Gif credit @inacatastrophicmind

The last gif is out of discussion, bot men looking at each other with sad eyes, longing and as if their conversation isn't over. Dean being disappointed at Cas and Cas trying to make him see his point. Everything he does, he does it for Dean.

And now we know why it is.

Season 7: Mourning Dean and the Jealousy

Even with Showrunner Sera Gamble trying to focus Dean's morning into a Wincest subtext, we had put king Ben Edlund came to the rescue in episode 7x09.

Putting things in order, we were faced with Dean's source of depression: Castiel's death.

So, after that, when Cas really comes back, the reunion is another romantic movie. The MEMORY LOST trope.

And then... Castiel's pseudo wife...

The trope is getting better with the spicy Jealousy in Dean's eyes.

Gif credit @impalaofgrace

So he can't completely enjoy Cas is back because:

1) He doesn't remember him: so, how can be mad or anything else if Cas doesn't remember any details of their break up?

2)The guy has a wife! Okay, so, he has a wife, he easily got a wife from... Nowhere?

And then Meg comes and he is Jealous all over again!

Dean is a really mess of feelings, but in the end, when Cas recalls everything, and when I say everything, i mean Dean, because the majority of his memories was him, Dean just pulls out from his car Castiel's bloody trenchcoat and gives it him back!

So, if there was any doubts about why was Dean mourning and depressed for, we have the confirmation!

Then, let's turn the page, because now is Cas the mess... Depressed and suffering, because he almost destroy heaven, but, do you know what cares the most to Cas and when he cheers up? Yes...

When Dean says... "I RATHER JAVE YOU, CURSED OR NOT" Castiel immediately changed his face, he smiles, and kept staring at Dean with heart eyes. He was happy because Dean was forgiving him. Because since he recovered his memories, the biggest cause of it was Dean's rejection. Dean not being able to forgive him. That was the main cause of his sadness. That's why he avoided reality, he didn't have a cause, because his cause was Dean and Dean was mad at him. But now? Cas is happy again. That's why he decides to come back to battle. "I'll go with you."

Season 8 Purgatory of love and Pining!Dean

Okay, is in this season, Carver era, when Dean's POV has a turning point about Castiel and his true feelings for him and is in this season, when Dean starts pining strongly for the angel, and feeling his love is unrequited.

The cause of it, is Purgatory. The Purity about Purgatory resided in the capacity of that place to resides in abolish every human necessity to let the mind to focused in what really matters. In this case for Dean was SURVIVE AND CAS.

So we can say that what remained pure in Dean's heart was TO FIND CASTIEL.

That's why he prayed to him every night, and that's why in the moment Cas CONFESS he ran away to protect him, something in Dean changes forever.

Gif credit @agusvedder

If you pay attention to Dean's face reaction here, is the expression of the man that realizes in that precisely moment his feelings for Castiel. Even Cas stares to a side, because there was Benny watching them, and the thing he was about to say it was too intimate. I did it to protect you.

Dean, the Big Protector, is being protected by Castiel. So, in Purgatory, Dean Winchester find out his not platonic love for his best friend.

Then we had the entire season with pining!Dean and deception.

Dean's mind invented one excuse for Castiel running away from him because thinking his best friend abbandoned him, was just too painful. He does this again when Cas pushed him inside the gate and he stays in Purgatory. Dean just rewrote in his mind the whole sequence. Imagining that Cas was defeated. But the reality was, Castiel wanted to stay. And when Cas reveals this truth to the hunter, Dean's face is a mix of deep sadness and deception. He felt really rejected by his friend. He felt his unrequited romantic love for him. But he will feel it more stronger in the crypt scene, with the brainwashing and how Castiel's love for Dean broke th connection. But he left. That was a real rejection the hunter barely could handled.

Season 9: Pinning!Castiel and Human!Cas

When Cas became Human, he has to face all the intensity of human's feelings. In this season, is time for our angel to realize his romantic love for the hunter.

Castiel will mirroring Dean's pining in season 8, and he will also feel rejected by him.

Just like Dean in season 8, Castiel will feel his romantic love is unrequited, after Dean kicked him out from the bunker, being this the parallel to the crypt scene.

But then Cain's mark comes, and everything gets worst.

Season 10: Castiel is Dean's Colette

The whole Cain's mark was the visual sign of the Destiel handprint (profound bond) attempt of break.

With Cain and Dean going through a perfect parallelism in which Crowley was placed in the friend's spot, Sam in the brother's spot and Castiel in Colette's spot. Blatant and canon exposure of what Cas means for Dean.

But now, is time for Dean, after came back for being a demon, to feel unrequited again. And this is a detail that could be not seen, but it caught my attention.

CASTIEL: At least temporarily. It’s a long story. Crowley, stolen grace. There’s a female outside in the car.

This is what Castiel says when he goes into Dean's room and after Dean praises him...

Gif credit @inacatastrophicmind

Dean had been with Crowley when he was a demon this whole time, so Cas was heartbroken. Even this season opens with a very depressed Castiel in the bed just let himself die because Dean was gone. So, that's why Cas says this.

So you went with Crowley, i have a female in my car. See? I don't need you.

He was Jealous, and now Dean gets Jealous, but he also gets the sensation again of his love for Castiel is unrequited.

The episode that followed this one, Dean goes into a blind date with random chick he took from a date app (very ooc, but he did it because he had his heart broken and because he thought CAS had cheated on him while he was gone as a demon.)

Season 11: Dean resist a forced bond with Amara because he's bonded with Castiel

Season 11 is a blatant exposure of Dean's feelings for Castiel. There a lot of hints throughout the season telling us Dean is in love, just like in season 9 there was hints of this with Castiel. (Again, mirroring each other).

Dean resisted Amara because of his love for Castiel. But Cas is oblivious about this.

When Castiel is possesed by Lucifer, Dean switch's into desperate mode. If he was worried about his attraction for Amara, now the only thing he cares was Castiel, exposing again WHO DEAN IS IN LOVE WITH.

But when Dean wanted to rescue Castiel, and Cas didn't want to come back to him, it hurt him worst. Again, just like in season 8, Dean can't handle Cas doesn't want to come back with him (first from Purgatory and now from being possesed). Again Dean feels rejected and unrequited. That's why when Cas is back and the end of the world is close... Dean says these words...

"You're our brother, Cas. I want you to know that."

And Cas' face...

Gif credit @mad-as-a-box-of-frogs

That's a man with the heart broken, mostly because we know now he was in love with Dean CANON FACT! (sobbing louder).

Season 12 and the confusing I LOVE YOU

This season was full of married couple situations, but mostly, we had Castiel's I Love You in the barn, before "dying".

At first Dean thinks the angel was saying this as goodbye, expressing into words his feelings for the Winchesters. Because as and angel, maybe Cas was feeling he has to protect them all. But then he says this singular I Love You to Dean, and the guy doesn't know how to take it. It was a platonic ILY? A non platonic ILY? Does angels feel the same like us? Does he sees me as a brother? Dean was truly a mess, so he decides to respond to that with a Mixtape.

But, when Castiel disappears for days, he sinks again into that sensation of unrequited romantic love.

Then Cas comes back, and then he goes away again, and then he dies.

Season 13: The reunion and the meaning of Castiel coming back

Dean's mourning for Cas can't be interpreted otherwise than LOSING THE LOVE OF HIS LIFE.

And the longing for his angel plus some Nougat powers, brought him back.

The thing is, Dean didn't expr as his feeling for Castiel and when the angel asked him that he needed to believed that he came back for a reason, Dean goes...

Gif credit @inacatastrophicmind

This sound like if he was recruiting Cas for war. And Cas' took it as that. So he came back to soldier angel mode. Because, okay, if Dean and Sam needed him to fight, he will fight.

Unrequited Love again.

Season 14 Healing Dean and the prelude of the break up

Post-possesed Dean is a follow up of self knowledge and self growing. He was healing the whole season.

But in episode 14x04 we heard Dean being Jealous or hurt because Castiel didn't go to rescue him and then because he goes into hunts with Jack. Unrequited love again.

Did Cas miss me as I missed him?

Is the first time Dean will actually name the word LOVE talking with the kid.

And then Mary dies and everything is a mess.

Dean yells YOU ARE DEAD TO ME, and how sad that sounds now that the angel had died again. Saving his life.

Dark clouda over our ship...

Season 15: And Maybe is not too late...

In season 15 we lived the angst of the Destiel break up, but then their reunion in Purgatory was beautiful.

Again, facing the fact that he could lost Cas one more time, Dean went down on his knees and prayed to him, and because he was in Purgatory, his heart and mind were released from any distraction, and he was plenty focused in the love he feels for his angel.

He cried, and begged for him to come back.

And he found him, following his heart, the profound bond he has with Castiel.

But, when he was about to say something that he hadn't said in the prayer, Castiel cut him off. So... Again the hunter had to swallow his words and the unrequited love punch him again.

Then... Castiel's romantic love confession took Dean by surprise, because, now that you read all the clues i gave you and i convinced you that Dean and Cas thought their love were unrequited, you will understand Dean's reaction.

Gif credit @spnsmile

Dean didn't can't believe Cas had loved him the way he does this whole time and now, he will lose him again. Is too much pain he can't handle.

For a lot of reasons we had analyzed so many times (Dean's arc has to have a closure expressing his ILY to the angel, the Empty plot is not ended, Etc) Is logical to think Cas will come back in the last episode, and this slow burn story will end with them being together, finally.

To Conclude:

The legend of the Sun and the Moon talks about two lovers that can't be reunited but they love each other deeply.

Is accurate with Destiel, because these two men had always being pining for each other but never be able to be together as they wish.

Castiel always thinking Dean doesn't reciprocate his romantic feeling for him and Dean thinking because Cas is an angel, he doesn't love him back romantically.

The Sacred Oath always playing in Castiel's POV as an impediment too and Dean's love clocked in shame too.

The deal with the Empty had been settled as we suspected in season 14, as a romantic plot. So, it has to have a closure.

These thoughts are based on the volumes from my assay "The Destiel Chronicles", currently in it's 87th volume.

See you soon! Have faith!

Destiel Is Forever!

Tagging @gneisscastiel @emblue-sparks @magnificent-winged-beast @weird-dorky-little-d @michyribeiro @maleansu @legendary-destiel @a-bit-of-influence @thatwitchydestielfan @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @lykanyouko @evvvissticante @savannadarkbaby @dea-stiel @mybonsai1976 @anarchiana @angelwithashotgunandtrenchcoat @trashblackrainbow @mishtho @dancingtuesdaymorning @feathered-cas @bre95611 @zoerayne2426 @justmeand-myinsight @that-one-fandom-chick @proccastinate @studio-hatter @pepevons @poorreputation @mrsaquaman187 @dizzypinwheel @jawnlockwinchester @dwstiel @ladygon @shippsblog @la-random-fangirl @lets-try-this-again-please @mychemicalobsession514 @destiel-shipper-11

@asphodelesauvage @2musiclover2

Buenos Aires November 17th 2020 8:33 PM

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sk1fanfiction · 3 years

Text

the many faces of tom riddle, part 4

-attachment, orphanages, and yet more child psych: time to add yet another voice to the void-

FULL DISCLAIMER THAT THIS IS JUST MY OPINION OF A CHARACTER WHO DOESN’T HAVE THE STRONGEST CANON CHARACTERIZATION, AND THUS ALL THIS IS BASED ON MY CONCEPTUALIZATION.

I'm going to be super biased, because my favorite portrayal of Tom Riddle is actually Hero Fiennes-Tiffin as eleven-year-old Tom Riddle, in HBP and I get to chat about child psych in this one, sooo here we go.

First of all, I’m just so impressed that a kid could bring that much depth to such a complex character.

This is the portrayal, I feel, that brings us closest to Tom’s character. Yes, Coulson’s brought us pretty close, but by fifth year, the mask was on.

We don't really get to see Tom looking afraid very often, but it's fear that rules his life, so it's really poignant in our first (chronologically) introduction, he looks absolutely terrified.

The void being the fandom's loud opinions on a certain headmaster. I wouldn't call myself pro-Dumbledore, but I'm certainly not anti-Dumbledore, either. (Agnostic-Dumbledore??)

Since I'm not of the anti-Dumbledore persuasion, I decided to poke around in the tags and see what the arguments were, so I don't make comments out of ignorance.

Most of the tag seems to be more directed towards his treatment of Harry and Sirius, but a few people mentioned that Dumbledore should have treated Tom with ‘exceptional kindness’ and tried to ‘rehabilitate’ him.

As I said in Parts 2 and 3, I am 100% in favor of helping a traumatized kid learn to cope, and I don’t think Tom Riddle was solidly on the Path to Evil (TM) at birth, or even at eleven. Not even at fifteen.

Could unconditional love and kindness have helped Tom Riddle enough for the rise of Lord Voldemort to never happen? Possibly, but...

Yes, I'm about to drag up that Carl Jung quote, again.

“I am not what happened to me, I am what I choose to become.”

The problem with this is that if you’re going to blame Dumbledore for this, you also have to blame every other adult in Tom’s life: his headmaster, Dippet, his Head of House, Slughorn, his ‘caretakers’ at the orphanage, Mrs. Cole and Martha, and possibly more. In fact, if we're going to blame any adult, let's blame Merope for r*ping and abusing Tom Riddle Senior, and having a kid she wasn't intending to take care of.

Furthermore, you cannot possibly hold anyone but Tom accountable for the murders he committed. (I should not have to sit here and explain why cold-blooded murder is wrong.) And if you like Tom Riddle's character, insinuating that his actions are completely at the whim of others is just a bit condescending towards him. He's not an automaton or a marionette, he's a very intelligent human being with a functioning brain, and at sixteen is fully capable of moral reasoning and critical analysis.

I've heard the theories about Dumbledore setting the Potters up to die, and I'm not going to discuss their validity right now; but he didn't put a wand in Tom's hand and force him to kill anyone. Tom did it all of his own accord.

And while yes, I have enormous sympathy for what happened to Tom as a child, at some point, he decided to murder Myrtle Warren, and that is where I lose my sympathy. Experiencing trauma does not give you the right to inflict harm on others. Yes, Tom was failed, but then, he spectacularly failed himself.

We also have no idea how Dumbledore treated Tom as a student.

In the movies, it’s Dumbledore who tells Tom he has to go back to the orphanage, but in the books, it’s Dippet. We know that Slughorn spent a lot of time around Tom at Slug Club and such, yet I don’t really see people clamoring for his head.

I regard the sentiment that Dumbledore turned Tom Riddle into Lord Voldemort with a lot of skepticism.

But let's hear from the character himself -- his impression of eleven-year-old Tom Riddle.

“Did I know that I had just met the most dangerous Dark wizard of all time?” said Dumbledore. “No, I had no idea that he was to grow up to be what he is. However, I was certainly intrigued by him. I returned to Hogwarts intending to keep an eye upon him, something I should have done in any case, given that he was alone and friendless, but which, already, I felt I ought to do for others’ sake as much as his."

Now, assuming that Dumbledore's telling the truth, I'm not seeing something glaringly wrong with this. No, he hasn't pigeonholed Tom as evil, yes, I'd be intrigued, too, and it's a very good idea to keep an eye on Tom, for his own sake.

“At Hogwarts,” Dumbledore went on, “we teach you not only to use magic, but to control it. You have — inadvertently, I am sure — been using your powers in a way that is neither taught nor tolerated at our school."

Again, it seems like he's at least somewhat sympathetic towards Tom, and is willing to at least give him a chance.

More evidence (again, assuming Dumbledore is a reliable narrator):

Harry: “Didn’t you tell them [the other professors], sir, what he’d been like when you met him at the orphanage?” Dumbledore: “No, I did not. Though he had shown no hint of remorse, it was possible that he felt sorry for how he had behaved before and was resolved to turn over a fresh leaf. I chose to give him that chance.”

Now, I think Dumbledore is pretty awful with kids, but I don't think that's malicious. Yeah, it's a flaw, but perfect people don't exist, and perfect characters are dead boring. I am not saying that he definitely handled Tom's case well, I'm just saying that there's little evidence that Dumbledore, however shaken and scandalized, wrote him off as 'evil snake boy.'

It's also worth taking into account that it's 1938, and the attitudes towards mental health back then.

Why is Tom looking at Dumbledore like that, anyway? Why is he so scared? What has he possibly been threatened with or heard whispers of?

"'Professor'?" repeated Riddle. He looked wary. "Is that like 'doctor'? What are you here for? Did she get you in to have a look at me?"

"I don't believe you," said Riddle. "She wants me looked at, doesn't she? Tell the truth!"

"You can't kid me! The asylum, that's where you're from, isn't it? 'Professor,' yes, of course -- well, I'm not going, see? That old cat's the one who should be in the asylum. I never did anything to little Amy Benson or Dennis Bishop, and you can ask them, they'll tell you!

Tom keeps insisting he's not mad until Dumbledore finally manages to calm him down.

I'm really upset this wasn't in the movie, because it's important context. Instead we got these throwaway cutscenes of some knick-knacks relating to the Cave he's got lying around, but I just would have preferred to see him freaking out like he does in the book.

There was extreme stigma and prejudice towards mental illness.

'Lunatic asylums,' as they were called in Tom's time, were terrible places. In the 1930s and 40s, he could look forward to being 'treated' with induced convulsions, via metrazol, insulin, electroshock, and malaria injections. And if he stuck around long enough, he could even look forward to a lobotomy!

So, if you think Dumbledore was judgmental towards Tom, imagine how flat-out prejudiced whatever doctors or 'experts' Mrs. Cole might have gotten in to 'look at him' must have been!

Moving on to the next few shots, he is sitting down and hunched over as if expecting punishment or at least some kind of bad news, Dumbledore is mostly out of the frame. He’s trapped visually, by Dumbledore on one side, and a wall on the other, because he’s still very much afraid. uncomfortable, as he tells Dumbledore a secret that he fears could get him committed to an asylum (which were fucking horrible places, as I said).

It brings to the scene that miserable sense of isolation and loneliness to that has defined Tom’s entire life up to that point (and, partially due to his own bad choices, continues to define it).

And, when Dumbledore accepts it, his posture changes. he becomes more confident and more at ease, as he describes the... utilities of his magical abilities.

"All sorts," breathed Riddle. A flush of excitement was rising up his neck into his hollow cheeks; he looked fevered. "I can make things move without touching them. I can make animals do what I want them to do, without training them. I can make bad things happen to people who annoy me. I can make them hurt if I want to."

Riddle lifted his head. His face was transfigured: There was a wild happiness upon it, yet for some reason it did not make him better looking; on the contrary, his finely carved features seemed somehow rougher, his expression almost bestial.

I do think Harry, our narrator, is being a tad bit judgmental here. Magic is probably the only thing that brings Tom happiness in his grey, lonely world, and when I was Tom's age and being bullied, if I had magic powers, you'd better believe that I'd (a) be bloody ecstatic about it (b) use them. And, like Tom, I can't honestly say that I can't imagine getting a bit carried-away with it. Unfortunately, we can't all be as inherently good and kindhearted as Harry.

Reading HBP again, as a 'mature' person, it almost seems like the reader is being prompted to see Tom as evil just because he's got 'weird' facial expressions.

So... uh...

Nope, let's judge Tom on his actions, not looks of 'wild happiness.'

To his great surprise, however, Dumbledore drew his wand from an inside pocket of his suit jacket, pointed it at the shabby wardrobe in the corner, and gave the wand a casual flick. The wardrobe burst into flames. Riddle jumped to his feet; Harry could hardly blame him for howling in shock and rage; all his worldly possessions must be in there. But even as Riddle rounded on Dumbledore, the flames vanished, leaving the wardrobe completely undamaged.

Okay, one thing I dislike is Tom's lack of emotional affect when Dumbledore burned the wardrobe, in the books, he jumped up and started screaming, instead of looking passively (in shock, perhaps?) at the fire. Incidentally, I can't really tell if he's impressed or in shock, to be honest. I think they really tried to make Tom 'creepier' in the movie.

This is one of the incidents where Dumbledore's inability to deal with children crops up.

I think he was trying to teach Tom that magic can be dangerous, and he wouldn't like it to be used against him, but burning the wardrobe that contains everything he owns was a terrible move on Dumbledore's part. Tom already has very limited trust in other people, and now, he's not going to trust Dumbledore at all -- now, he's put Tom on the defensive/offensive for the rest of their interaction, and perhaps for the rest of their teacher-student relationship.

Riddle stared from the wardrobe to Dumbledore; then, his expression greedy, he pointed at the wand. "Where can I get one of them?"

"Where do you buy spellbooks?" interrupted Riddle, who had taken the heavy money bag without thanking Dumbledore, and was now examining a fat gold Galleon.

But I'm not surprised Tom is 'greedy.' He's grown up in an environment where if he wants something, whether that's affection, food, money, toys, he's got to take it. There's no one looking after his needs specifically. I'm not surprised that he's a thief and a hoarder, and I don't think that counts as a moral failing necessarily, and more of a maladaptive way of seeking comfort. It would be bizarre if he came out of Wool's Orphanage a complete saint.

Additionally, I think given that the Gaunt family has a history of 'mental instability,' Tom is a sensitive child, and the trauma of growing up institutionalized and possibly being treated badly due to his magical abilities or personality disorder deeply affected him.

And there are points where it seems that Dumbledore is quick to judge Tom.

"He was already using magic against other people, to frighten, to punish, to control."

"Yes, indeed; a rare ability, and one supposedly connected with the Dark Arts, although as we know, there are Parselmouths among the great and the good too. In fact, his ability to speak to serpents did not make me nearly as uneasy as his obvious instincts for cruelty, secrecy, and domination."

"I trust that you also noticed that Tom Riddle was already highly self-sufficient, secretive, and, apparently, friendless?..."

And while this is all empirically true, these are (a) a product of Tom's harsh environment, and (b) do not necessarily make him evil. But the point remains that child psych didn't exist as a field of its own, and psychology as a proper science was in its infancy, so I'd be shocked if Dumbledore was insightful about Tom's situation.

But I've gone a ton of paragraphs without citing anything, so I've got to rectify that.

Let's talk about Harry Harlow's monkey experiments in the 1950-70s.

If you're not a fan of animal research, since I know some people are uncomfortable with it, feel free to scroll past.

Here's the TL;DR: Children need to be hugged and shown affection too, not just fed and clothed, please don't leave babies to 'cry out' and ignore their needs because it's backwards and fucking inhumane. HUG AND COMFORT AND CODDLE CHILDREN AND SPOIL THEM WITH AFFECTION!

I will put more red writing when the section is over.

This is still an interesting experiment to have in mind while we explore the whole 'no one taught Tom Riddle how to love' thing and whether or not it's actually a good argument.

Andddd let's go all the way back to the initial 1958 experiment, featured in Harlow's paper, the Nature of Love. (If you're familiar with Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs, him and Harlow actually collaborated for a time).

To give you an idea of our starting point, until Harlow's experiment, which happened twenty years after Dumbledore meets Tom for the first time, no one in science had really been interested in studying love and affection.

"Psychologists, at least psychologists who write textbooks, not only show no interest in the origin and development of love or affection, but they seem to be unaware of its very existence."

I'm going to link some videos of Harry Harlow showing the actual experiment, which animal rights activists would probably consider 'horrifying.' It's nothing gory or anything, but if you are particularly soft-hearted (and I do not mean that as an insult), be warned. It's mostly just baby monkeys being very upset and Harlow discussing it in a callous manner. Yes, today it would be considered unethical, but it's still incredibly important work and if you think you can handle it, I would recommend watching at least the first one to get an idea of how dramatic this effect is.

Dependency when frightened

The full experiment

The TL;DW:

This experiment was conducted with rhesus macaques; they're still used in psychology/neuroscience research when you want very human-like subjects, because they are very intelligent (unnervingly so, actually). I'd say that adult ones remind me of a three-year old child.

Harlow separated newborn monkeys from their mothers, and cared for their physical needs. They had ample nutrition, bedding, warmth, et cetera. However, the researchers noticed that the monkeys:

(a) were absolutely miserable. And not just that, but although all their physical needs were taken care of, they weren't surviving well past the first few days of life. (This has also been documented in human babies, and it's called failure to thrive and I'll talk about it a bit later).

(b) showed a strong attachment to the gauze pads used to cover the floor, and decided to investigate.

So, they decided to provide a surrogate 'mother.' Two, actually. Mother #1 was basically a heated fuzzy doll that was nice for the monkeys to cuddle with. Mother #2 was the same, but not fuzzy and made of wire. Both provided milk. The result? The monkeys spent all their time cuddling and feeding from the fuzzy 'mother.' Perhaps not surprising.

What Harlow decided next, is that one of the hallmarks being attached to your caregiver is seeking hugs and reassurance from them when frightened. So, when the monkeys were presented with something scary, they'd go straight to the cloth mother and ignore the wire one. Not only that, but when placed in an unfamiliar environment, if the cloth mother was present, the monkeys would be much calmer.

In a follow-up experiment, Harlow decided to see if there was some sort of sensitive period by introducing both 'mothers' to monkeys who had been raised in isolation for 250 days. Guess what?

The initial reaction of the monkeys to the alterations was one of extreme disturbance. All the infants screamed violently and made repeated attempts to escape the cage whenever the door was opened. They kept a maximum distance from the mother surrogates and exhibited a considerable amount of rocking and crouching behavior, indicative of emotionality.

Yikes. So, at first Harlow thought that they'd passed some kind of sensitive period for socialization. But after a day or two they calmed down and started chilling out with the cloth mother like the other monkeys did. But here's a weird thing:

That the control monkeys develop affection or love for the cloth mother when she is introduced into the cage at 250 days of age cannot be questioned. There is every reason to believe, however, that this interval of delay depresses the intensity of the affectional response below that of the infant monkeys that were surrogate-mothered from birth onward

All these things... attachment, affection, love, seeking comfort ... are mostly learned behaviours.

Over.

Orphanages, institutionalized childcare, and why affection is a need, not an extra.

His face is lit the exact same was as Coulson’s was in COS (half-light, half-dark), and I said I was going to talk about this in Part 3. I think perhaps it's intended to make Fiennes-Tiffin look more evil or menacing, but I'm going to quite deliberately misinterpret it.

Now, for some context, Dumbledore has just (kind of) burned his wardrobe, ratted out his stealing habit, and (in the books only, they really took a pair of scissors to this scene) told him he needs to go apologize and return everything and Dumbledore will know if he doesn't, and, well, Tom's not exactly a happy bugger about it.

But interestingly, in the books, this is when we start to see Tom's 'persona,' aka his mask, start to come into play. Whereas before, he was screaming, howling, and generally freaking out, here, he starts to hide his emotions -- in essence, obscure his true self under a shadow. So this scene is really the reverse of Coulson's in COS.

And perhaps I'm reading wayyy too much into this, but I can't help but notice that Coulson's hair is parted opposite to Fiennes-Tiffin's, and the opposite sides of their faces are shadowed, too.

Riddle threw Dumbledore a long, clear, calculating look. "Yes, I suppose so, sir," he said finally, in an expressionless voice.

Riddle did not look remotely abashed; he was still staring coldly and appraisingly at Dumbledore. At last he said in a colorless voice, "Yes, sir."

Here's an article from The Atlantic on Romanian orphanages in the 1980s, when the dictator, Ceausescu, basically forced people to have as many children as possible and funnel them into institutionalized 'childcare', and it's absolutely heartbreaking.

There's not a whole lot of information out there on British orphanages in the 30s' and 40s', but given that people back then thought you just had to keep children on a strict schedule and feed them, it wouldn't have a whole lot better.

The only thing I've found is this, and it's not super promising.

The most important study informing the criteria for contemporary nosologies, was a study by Barbara Tizard and her colleagues of young children being raised in residential nurseries in London (Tizard, 1977). These nurseries had lower child to caregiver ratios than many previous studies of institutionalized children. Also, the children were raised in mixed aged groups and had adequate books and toys available. Nevertheless, caregivers were explicitly discouraged from forming attachments to the children in their care.

Here's a fairly recent paper that I think gives a good summary: Link

Here, they describe the responses to the Strange Situation test (which tests a child's attachment to their caregiver).

We found that 100% of the community sample received a score of “5,” indicating fully formed attachments, whereas only 3% of the infants living in institutions demonstrated fully formed attachments. The remaining 97% showed absent, incomplete, or odd and abnormal attachment behaviors.

Bowlby and Ainsworth, who did the initial study, thought that children would always attach to their caregivers, regardless of neglect or abuse. But some infants don't attach (discussed along with RAD in Part 2).

Here's a really good review paper on attachment disorders in currently or formerly institutionalized children : Link

Core features of RAD in young children include the absence of focused attachment behaviors directed towards a preferred caregiver, failure to seek and respond to comforting when distressed, reduced social and emotional reciprocity, and disturbances of emotion regulation, including reduced positive affect and unexplained fearfulness or irritability.

Which all sounds a lot like Tom in this scene. The paper also discusses neurological effects, like atypical EEG power distribution (aka brain waves), which can correlate with 'indiscriminate' behavior and poor inhibitory control; which makes sense for a kid who, oh, I don't know, hung another kid's rabbit because they were angry.

Furthermore...

...those children with more prolonged institutional rearing showed reduced amygdala discrimination and more indiscriminate behavior.

This again, makes a ton of sense for Tom's psychological profile, because the amygdala (which is part of the limbic system, which regulates emotions) plays a major role in fear, anger, anxiety, and aggression, especially with respect to learning, motivation and memory.

So, I agree completely that Tom needed a lot of help, especially given the fact that he spent eleven years in an orphanage (longer than the Bucharest study I was referring to), and Dumbledore wasn't exactly understanding of his situation, and probably didn't realise what a dramatic effect the orphanage had on Tom, and given the way he talks to Tom, probably treated him as if he were a kid who grew up in a healthy environment.

In case you are still unconvinced that hugging is that important, there's a famous 1944 study conducted on 40 newborn human infants to see what would happen if their physical needs (fed, bathed, diapers changed) were provided for with no affection. The study had to be stopped because half the babies died after four months. Affection leads to the production of hormones and boosts the immune system, which increases survival, and that is why we hug children and babies should not be in orphanages. They are supposed to be hugged, all the time. I can't find the citation right now, I'll add it later if I find it.

But I think it's vastly unrealistic to say that Dumbledore, who grew up during the Victorian Era, would have any grasp of this and I don't think he was actively malicious towards Tom.

Was Tom Riddle failed by institutional childcare? Absolutely.

Were the adults in his life oblivious to his situation? Probably.

Do the shitty things that happened to Tom excuse the murders he committed, and are they anyone's fault but his own? No. At the end of the day, Tom made all the wrong choices.

And, for what it's worth, I think (film) Dumbledore (although he expresses the same sentiment in more words in the books) wishes he could go back in time and have helped Tom.

"Draco. Years ago, I knew a boy, who made all the wrong choices. Please, let me help you."

#tom riddle #the many faces of #tom marvolo riddle #character analysis #character study #albus dumbledore

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george-fabian-weasley · 4 years

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George Weasley — Obliviate Part 1

Summary: In order to protect the Weasleys and Hermione from getting endangered by the Ministry, you and your brother, Harry Potter, had to make a hard decision to Obliviate their memories of you two. Even, your boyfriend, George Weasley whom you swore to love until the very end.

Words: 2,728 words

Warnings ⚠ : Angst, Tears (loads), Constant Pain™

Disclaimer : I imagined this scene takes place after the death of Sirius Black, so any incorrect things that you noticed, please let me know!

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"NO, I DON'T WANT TO DO THIS." You cried out in desperation, eyes literally begging Harry to take back his words. You watched your brother heaved a deep breath, trying to maintain a calm and steady voice. "Y/N, we have no choice. If we don't continue with this plan, they will get hurt, or worse, they will die. Surely you don't want that to happen, do you?"

"But Obliviating them? Is there any less cruel way for us to protect them, Harry? They're our family!" You tried again, the tears in your eyes were threatening to come out, the idea of removing yourselves from the memories of people you both love is so terrifying, so terrifying you loathed the idea to the core.

"DO YOU THINK I WANT TO DO THIS? HOW MANY MORE PEOPLE HAVE TO DIE BECAUSE OF US, Y/N?! FIRST MUM, DAD AND THEN CEDRIC AND NOW SIRIUS." Harry shouted in pain. His lips quivered, yet he shows no sign of crying. "Voldermort wants us, Y/N. He doesn't want the Weasleys, or Hermione, or Remus or even Tonks. He, wants, us." Harry found his voice and said it firmly.

"B-but..." You stuttered. "But what, Y/N?" Harry asked. "What about George? And Ginny? You really want them to forget about us? Do you?" And by the mention of George, the tears fell down, rolling down your cheeks. You couldn't possibly bare the thought of George forgetting you. Forgetting your memories, your adventures together. They're far too precious to be forgotten.

Harry faltered for a moment by the mention of Ginny, yet he was adamant. "We have no choice. This is the only way to protect them from Voldemort, even if it means them not remembering us anymore." You couldn't shake away the quiver in his voice, you knew Harry loathed the idea as well.

But alas, you had no other choice.

You looked around, it's the Burrow. After the heated discussion with Harry, you have no other want in you life than to find George Weasley, and be able to say goodbye. And so you Apparated to the Burrow, right in front of Fred and George's room.

You opened the door, and by the looks of it the redhead twins were already fast asleep. Fred lightly snoring at the right, and George looking rather comfortable with the blanket wrapping him perfectly. Upon seeing the peacefully sleeping George, you felt tears threatening to trickle down your cheeks again. The tears in your eyes, no matter how much have been shed, will never go over the pain in your heart, screaming not to Obliviate your lover.

You didn't realize you had been staring at George until the latter opened his eyes sleepily, "Y/N? Love, is that you?" You sniffed and smiled softly at poor sleepy George, "Missed me, Weasley?" You said with a slow voice, trying not to wake Fred up.

George was still dizzy from waking up from sleep, so he just laid on his back, and opened his arms at you, "Come here." George said groggily. That simple adorable act made you giggle, and you climbed on the bed to lay on top of him, your head on his chest.

The moment you came and embrace him, George wrapped his arms and legs around you, acting as if you're a cuddle pillow. And then he turned both of you to the right, making you stifle a chuckle more, "Well, aren't you adorable." You muttered to him, whilst his eyes were still closed.

The silence filled the room once again. George was sleeping, and you examined his features that you had examined before loads of times.

Only this time, you want to remember it forever. The way his light coloured eyelashes curled slightly upwards, the way the freckles on his face decorate the canvas like stars to the sky, the way his nose would wiggle once in a while, the way his soft thin lips would just be there, waiting to be touched.

George Weasley is an utterly, beautiful man.

You find yourself tearing up once more, the pain in your heart had starting to become unbearable. You let your hand cup your mouth, as to not let out any whimpers or loud sobs, as another hand went to George's head, playing and caressing his red hair.

This feeling. It physically hurts your heart. It literally felt like your heart has been made into a ping-pong ball, being beaten here and there but had to keep moving for the sake of your life. Nothing could go over this pain, not even when Uncle Vernon locked both Harry and you in the closet room below the stairs, not even when bloody Umbridge scarred down your skin and Harry's with 'I must not tell lies', and not even when Sirius, your godfather slowly dissipated after being attacked by Bellatrix Lestrange.

To obliviate George, you have to kill your own heart. Because he owns all of it. He stole it, from the very moment you and Harry had been sorted into Gryffindor. At first you thought, it was just a crush, as you were just 11 years old, but then as you grew up, you find yourself connected to George Weasley way more than the others. When he asked you out instead of Alicia to the Yule Ball, you knew at that moment, both of you are heads over heels for one another.

He was there for you during many events in your life. And you know you were there for his. If there is anything that you want to live for and to die for, that anything would be this man. George Fabian Weasley.

All those thoughts made your sobs more uncontrollable and your body shook more, slowly stirring George up from sleep. He opened his eyes groggily and saw you crying under him, "Y/N? Hey, hey.... What's wrong, love?" Despite his hoarse voice, he managed to lay them out softly to comfort you. The hand that was tightly wrapped around your waist was brought to wipe the tears off your cheeks.

All of his sleepiness were thrown outside the window, he was now alert and confused as to why you suddenly broke down. Feeling those worried eyes on you made you cry even harder, even after you disturbed him from sleep, George still cared about you.

You... You couldn't.

You tried to control your sobs, and you met his loving and nurturing eyes. Even with all those eye snobs at the corner of his eyes, those brown eyes were beautiful. "George..." You whispered. "What is it, Love? Why are you crying? Did something happen?" He asked softly, his large hand cupping your face.

You leaned into his touch and sat up, causing him to sat up from his laying position as well. Even with no lighting anywhere around you, you still could feel his immense love for you, the way his eyebrows furrowed worriedly, the way his eyes focused on you, and you only.

"I... I need to tell you something." You whispered, forcing yourself to be strong and wiping the tears off your face harshly.

The least you could do, is tell him the truth before you Obliviate him. That way, at least he wasn't in the dark.

"Should we talk about this outside? Wouldn't want that bloke over there to wake up, do we?" He whispered almost playfully, and you mustered enough strength to perform a smile.

Yet he recognized that smile. That smile of yours, is a smile of pain. You were hiding something. George trusts you with his whole life, and he knows you feel the same way, but the storm inside his heart is starting to take over. He was nervous.

You walked outside the Burrow hand by hand, his large hand wrapped perfectly around yours, as if it was created to hold it. Yet George knew something was troubling you, you didn't squeeze back when he squeezed your hand, and you were holding his hand rather tightly, as if it was your last wish to let go of him.

He was right, and you were absolutely terrified.

"You said you need to tell me something?" George asked, he could feel his heart beating on his throat, it was becoming unsettling for him to hear what you have to say.

"I...." You trailed off, the words caught up in your throat, unable to come out. Merlin, you don't know how to say this. You took a deep breath, both of your hands were starting to feel clammy and weird. But you kept holding on to George's hands, they were silently supporting you to go on.

"Harry and I have decided that..." You started slowly, your heart was beating profusely, both in anxiety and in pain, you could just imagine the pained look George was about to give you in the next few seconds.

"We decided that we don't want any more lives to be threatened because of us. So, we... W-we..." Your hands were trembling and sweaty, your whole body was aching in pain, you don't want to say this, oh Merlin you'd rather die than say this.

"Hey, hey... Take your time, sweetness, we have loads of them." George's voice reached your ears, and you saw him becoming immensely worried and scared, yet he had a comforting smile on his lips.

Seeing him smile hurt even more than you could possibly imagine. Seeing him smile made it far more difficult to lay down the words.

"I-in order to keep you safe, in order to keep everyone safe and sound without any harm from Voldemort... Oh dear god, I can't say this..." You whimpered, your body trembled horribly, it was hurting, aching and simply terrifying.

Your knees turn weak and George was fast to capture your waist and steady you up, you were already crying while hugging him. "Woah! Y/N, darling, what is exactly happening to you?" George was beyond worried. The pain in your eyes and everything else seems to be so painful, as if more painful than the Crucio curse.

You pulled away, tears are rolling down your cheeks as you sobbed, "I don't want to do this, George, I hate this so much." George was cupping your face, trying all the best he could to wipe the tears off your face, "Do what, Y/N?"

"Do this," Your wand was already pointing at George, and he was frozen. His face was a mixture of pain, confusion and betrayal, yet you could see his love for you is still there.

"You will be much safer if you don't remember me, George." Your voice were anything but stable at this point. The realization dawned upon George and he was horrified, "Y/N, no... "

"I shouldn't tell you this, but here I am. I thought I could tell you the truth before I wipe our memories." You said, your wand still fixated to him. George simply raised his wand as well, pointing it to you, "I won't let you, Y/N. Why are you doing this?"

"To protect you!" Your voice came a bit louder than you thought. "So many people have died for me and Harry, I couldn't bear seeing you die for me too, George. Not you, or Fred, or Arthur or Molly."

George furrowed his eyebrows, "You mean to tell me that you're planning to Obliviate everyone? To protect us? Y/N, you and I both know that is some bullshit!"

"I have no other choice! You know how much I love you, George. You think this doesn't hurt me as much as it hurts you? I would rather die than do this to you!!!" You were a shouting mess.

You two were a broken pile of mess. You were crying non-stop and George was as nearly as close to breaking down, yet wands were still fixated to each other.

"Y/N, if you and Harry go on and fight Voldemort all by yourselves, you won't even stand a chance, you know that. The bloody wizard has an entire army of Death-Eaters, for Merlin's sake! What comes through your mind when you decided to do this?!" George shouted as well, his face was nothing but pain. He was angry, angry at you and Harry for even thinking you have a right to meddle with someone's memories.

"What comes through my mind is that you will be safe, George. You and your family along with Hermione, Remus, Tonks, even Mad-Eye. All of you will be safe." You said firmly, standing your ground. You loathed every second you had with George here. You just wanted to go back to a few minutes ago where he was cuddling with you like a clingy tall sloth. George saw the determination in your eyes, and also pain. No matter how much he knew you hate to do this, he still felt hurt.

"Then what about you, Y/N? What about you, what about Harry?" George's voice trembled in pain. The thought of you sacrificing yourself just to keep everyone safe and sound just sounded so... bloody ridiculous.

Before you could answer, "Y/N dear, what are you doing here?" Molly's voice made you turn to the Burrow's front door. There they were, the Weasleys and Hermione, all of them were alert and ready with their wands as soon as they saw your wand fixated to George and vice versa.

Your eyes widened in fear, your argument with George must have woken them up. Molly tried to walk closer to you, yet you walked back as quick, "Stay back!"

The Weasleys were taken aback by your shout, they would never think you would shout at them, you have been the sweetest little thing. "George, what's happening here?" Arthur called on to his son, his wand was fixated to you while yours were moving to point at both Molly and George.

"Y/N thinks it would be better to Obliviate everyone so that we would be safe." George said grimly, and the horrified expressions from the Weasleys were far worse than you had imagined.

"Are you out of your bloody mind?!" Fred shouted to you. "I have no other choice! Voldermort will come for you all, and no more blood shall be trickling down for me or for Harry."

"You listen to me, Y/N Potter! We are already in so deep to back down now. Either you drop your wand, or you'll have 7 people fighting against you right now!" Hermione shouted to you, her wand steadily fixated on you.

"I just wanted all of you to be safe." You whispered under your breath, a tear made its way to your lips as you tasted the salty liquid. You turned to George, "I will always love you, and will always remember you, George Weasley."

"No, no Y/N don't do this-" "OBLIVIATE MAXIMA!"

Before anyone could do anything, you said the very spell that aches your heart. You watched the soft blue strings from each of the Weasleys' head and Hermione's, coming slowly and formed one blue string to your wand.

Even George's. Instantly, the memories you two had together flashed between your eyes. The sorting hat, the first Quidditch game, the pranks, the hidden hugs at the hallways, the kisses between classes, the playful bickering during Snape's, the cuddling, the sleeping together, the laughing, the jealousy, the fights, the tears, the shouts and screams, and the dance at the Yule Ball.

5 years of memories, Obliviated.

After the magical strings came into your wand, you see George trying to process everything, looking seemingly numb and frozen.

With a last kiss on his cheek and a whisper, "I'll find you when everything's over." you Disapparated.

Part 2 : READ (COMING SOON!)

Masterlist

#george weasley x reader #george weasley #harry potter #george fabian weasley #harry potter angst #fred and george #weasley twins

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aceofwhump · 4 years

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Guys

The Weeping Monk.

The Weeping Monk has become my new obsession. I love him. I knew I would because seeing all the gifs of him in tumblr is why I watched in the first place I didn't not expect for him to capture my interest so much. It's not the strongest hyperfixation I've ever had but it is one nonetheless and I'm thrilled. Welcome the list of "Ace's Favorite Whumpees"!!

SPOILERS ALERT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Seriously I got ramble and let some spoilers loose so if you want to watch it still and don't want spoilers just keep scrolling

So not only is Daniel Sharman fucking gorgeous but Daniel Sharman looking like this?

With the eyes and the hood and the darkness and the scruff. Oh hell yeah! He's like some omen of death with that cloak. I love it.

So why do I like the Weeping Monk so much?

Well first of all I LOVE A GOOD REDEMPTION STORY!!!!! Like so much! I blame Zuko for that. But if you give me a bad dude who's done some bad shit but also has one hell of a traumatic past then put him on a path of redemption and healing? I’M SOLD! And at the end of the season, The Weeping Monk has been set on his redemption beginnings and I will die if Netflix doesn't give us a season 2 so I can see this boy walk his new path towards redemption and healing. I crave it.

But anyway. This man right here. The emotional angst and whump he exudes is so lovely.

Towards the end of the season we find out that he's Fey and I fucking lost my shit. This boy is a Fey who was raised by the people who hate Fey. His people were killed and he was taken as a child by the same people who murdered them. He was then brainwashed to believe he was demon born and evil and a sinner purely for existing and was taught to punish himself for it (he whips himself in a form of self flagellation!) and I'm sure he was punished for all sorts of things growing up by his "Father". The amount of self hate and self doubt he must feel breaks my heart. He knows he's Fey! He remembers his real name (also that reveal sent me to another plane of existence) so he must have some memories of his family and his people. But he's spent his whole life being used as a weapon against his own people and brainwashed into thinking he was saving them because fey are inherently damned. And that's all he is to the Red Paladins. A weapon. But he sees them as his people, his family because that's all he knows!

This dude is so broken and brainwashed and lost it just breaks my heart.

LOOK AT HIM!! Look at this lost and broken boy!! He just needs some love and affection dammit!! I mean he flat out asks "Do you love me Father?" AHHH!!

And oh my god this conversation between him and Gawain?!

Allow me to share the whole conversation because I need to talk about it.

Gawain: Don’t be afraid Ash Man. I don’t bite. It’s those eyes. The mark of the Ash Fold. There haven’t been any in these lands for centuries. How did you find your way here? Have you just come to watch me die?

The Weeping Monk: Why didn’t you tell them? Before...you could have told them. But you didn’t. Why?

G: Because all Fey are brothers. Even the lost ones

WM: This suffering, it will cleanse you.

G: You parrot these words, but you know it’s all lies. I can feel it in you, my brother.

WM: You are not my brother.

G: They have turned your mind so far inside out...that you don’t know the difference between kindness...and hate. Who did this to you?

WM: We are saving souls. Your soul.

G: Tell that to the little ones that you burn.

WM: I don’t harm the children

G: You burn their homes, you slay their mothers and their fathers, and you watch your Red Brothers run them down on horses. And you see it all through those weeping eyes. That makes you guilty. Brother! You can fight. I’ve never seen anything like it. You could be our greatest warrior. Your people need you.

WM: You are not my people.

G: Then tell them. If this is where you belong, tell them what you are.

WM: I’ll pray for you.

G: And I you.

First of all this conversation is the reason I now ship these two. Just saying. Gawain saw that he was kin, that he was lost, that he was broken and reached out to try and help him even though he is the reason he is being tortured. I can’t with these two! But also, the WM felt guilty about turning him in and worried about his own fate but you can tell that Gawain’s words sink in and set something inside of him and it’s because of Gawain that WM is now on this path of his. AND Gawain! I fully expected him to hate this man after everything hes done but he saw a lost and broken fey brother and tried to help him and I just...Gawain is so good you guys! This whole exchange is just *chefs kiss*. Cause after this the WM saves Squirrel.

Which leads me to Squirrel and the Weeping Monk. The other reason I desperately need season 2 is because I can't wait to see this unexpected pairing. I mean come on, big bag tough guy with trauma becomes unexpectedly joined with a young child? Best trope ever. Plus he got his ass kicked pretty bad and I need season 2 start off with that so I can see Squirrel take care of this injured man. Anyway, these two are going to have a great adventure getting back to the Fey and I NEED TO SEE IT!!! I want to see Squirrel and Lancelot bond and Squirrel defend him against Fey who hate him and for Lancelot to reluctantly become attached and defensive of this Fey boy and AHHHHHH!!

Oh and side note: One of my favorite tropes occurred. Defeated in battle, manhandled to their knees and hood pulled off revealing their bruised and bloody face. God yes please.

Time for some headcanons:

Okay he's totally touch starved am I right? This boy hasn't known a kind touch in his whole life. Pain is all he's known. The Paladins only touch to punish him or wield him. And he thinks he deserves it. He deserves the pain. The punishment. But kindness? A soft touch? Someone tending his injuries gently? He doesnt know what to do it that. He ends up stiffening or flinching away from the blinds hands of the fey, confused at first but slowly he starts to crave that kind touch.

Squirrel is always hugging him. Like whenever he sees him. And WM doesnt know what the fuck to do with that. You think he ever for hugged? I DOUBT IT! So hes all stiff and awkward and kind of bears it but after a while he starts hugging back kind of awkwardly.

Oh and speaking of tending his injuries I can almost guarantee that he has either had to tend to his own injuries in the past or he didn't do anything for them at all. But he's in a Fey camp now and the Fey help each other so when he and squirrel first show up at the camp and a he's taken to a healer and at first he balks and is like "I'm fine" but people like Pym and Squirrel and Gawain (YES GAWAIN! I have thoughts hang on) are like clearly you're not so just sit down before fall down again and let Pym heal you! AND then we get a scene of them all seeing the scars and fresh lashes and being horrified

Okay Gawain. He's not dead and he and Lancelot become best bros (or lovers cause I kind of ship them so much. Forget Nimulot. It's Gawain and Lancelot all the way) and Gawain protects him from the Fey who want to kill him after Squirrel and Lancelot arrive at the makeshift Fey camp and he's taken prisoner. Gawain watches him and see his humanity and goodness and self hate and trauma and Lancelot has someone who sees him as a "brother" as someone lost but not irredeemable and they fall in love okay bye

His powers as one of the Ash Folk. We know he can track. But from what we saw what if he's also got some camouflage or healing abilities hes never explored. NEVER EXPLORED BECAUSE HE THOUGHT IT A MANIFESTATION OF HIS INNER DEMON!!!

Also, I saw these two onset pics and now I'm ready for this to be s2 WM and Squirrel.

Okay rant over. Sorry. Bye now ✌

#cursed spoilers #cursed netflix #cursed #the weeping monk #daniel sharman #mod post #ace rambles about her favs #new whumpee #new fav #my whumpees

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teaspoon-full-of-sugar · 4 years

Text

sleeping on the blacktop

pairing: harry styles x reader

warnings: angst, descriptions of a car accident, blood, gore, mentions of death, vomiting, medical terminology (that i know absolutely nothing about !! i am not a doctor or an emt—almost all of my knowledge is from an anatomy class or tv so—don’t come for me pls), my ramblings about fate and free will, i also gave the baby a name (sorry if you don’t like it :( i just hate having y/d/n, ya know? too much work)

word count: 8.5k

synopsis: while harry is away on tour, his wife and baby get into a car accident

author’s note: please, be mindful of the warnings and don't read if you're uncomfortable with anything mentioned and sorry for the sort of rushed ending... other than that, i hope you enjoy! xx all the love

masterlist

—

“You don’t need to do that,” Anne says from behind her, and Y/N flinches, nearly dropping a plate. She got lost in her thoughts, staring out the window in Anne’s kitchen.

“You cooked. It’s the least I can do,” she says. Anne grabs a rag and dries some of the dishes. Gemma is keeping Rhiannon occupied in the next room, and from the peals of laughter, it’s the happiest she’s been in days. Y/N sighs, wiping her pruned hands on a paper towel. If she’s being honest, she’s not doing too well; Rhia has had a hard time adjusting to not having Harry around all the time, causing a varied sleep schedule and more bouts of fussiness in general, and Y/N struggles keeping up.

“How’re you doing?”

Y/N hesitates. She contemplates lying. She doesn’t need one more person worrying for her, and she doesn’t want people to think that she can’t take care of her own child by herself. Harry already worries enough, even though she’s assured him many times that he doesn’t need to be.

She knows that he feels guilty for not being there all the time, but she would never force him to stop touring and doing what he loves, partly because she’s afraid he’ll resent her. Despite him being across an entire ocean, she never feels like he is far; he’s always willing to stop anything when she calls, and he tries his hardest to talk with her twice a day. She always keeps him as involved as possible, sending daily updates and photos.

“It’s tough,” she admits, “but it’s getting better, no need to worry about me.” She offers Anne a weak smile.

“Can’t help it,” she says, pinching her cheeks lightly.

Noticing the dimming sky, the sun sinking below the line of trees in the yard, Y/N sighs.

“We should probably go,” she mutters, slipping into the next room. Despite how tired she is, she can’t help the smile that takes over her face when Rhiannon looks up at her, showing her gums.

“Time to go, bug,” she says, light and lilting. Rhia kicks her legs, making her almost lose her balance. She’s too confident for her own good, like her father; she’s only just started sitting up on her own and thinks she can wiggle around without falling.

“You sure you’re okay to drive, love?” Anne asks from behind her. Y/N rolls her eyes, yet smiles fondly at her protectiveness.

“We’ll be fine. It’s only a few minutes away.”

Ever since Harry left for tour, Y/N has been staying in their lake cottage to be closer to Anne. It’s only a quick 20 minute drive away, which has been helpful during the days when Y/N needed to catch up on sleep, and Anne is always happy to help. She didn’t like to do that very often, feeling like she was taking advantage of her mother-in-law.

The cottage was a cute little thing, perfect for just the two of them, and Y/N was glad to get out of their shared home; it was too big and empty for just her and Rhia. Harry was always able to liven up any place they were at, but now that he’s gone, it felt hollow and dismal.

“You know you’re welcome to stay here. I’ve got plenty of room,” Anne tries to convince her one last time. As much as Y/N appreciated her worrying, she didn’t want to impose, and she’s sure that Anne wouldn’t want to listen to a fussy baby, even though she would deny it to the end of her days.

Y/N puts Rhia in her coat with little resistance, which is surprising, but she only had a short little nap that afternoon, and they had a busy day.

“I know, Anne, but I don’t want to intrude,” Y/N says. “Besides, Rhia sleeps better in our bed, and you need all the sleep you can get, don’t ya?” She tickles her daughter’s little bloated belly, making her giggle sweetly. Once she’s strapped in, the baby stretches and tries to put Y/N’s fingers in her mouth.

“You know I worry about you,” Anne sighs, kneeling next to Y/N.

“No need to worry,” Y/N smiles. Anne tucks the woven green blanket under Rhiannon’s legs. It’s the same blanket Harry had when he was a baby, barely held together with a few threads and love. Y/N stands, hoisting the carrier up to her hip.

“Call me when you get home, yeah?”

“Course,” she says, pressing a kiss to Anne’s cheek.

When they’re settled in the car, Anne stays out on the porch, watching them until they’re safely on the road, offering a wide smile and an air kiss. Y/N is so thankful to have her shoulder to lean on.

It’s a clear night, which Y/N is thankful for, no fog or rain, which isn’t an often occurrence. She stops at a sign, brakes squealing slightly. She stays there for a second, feeling the familiar burn of exhaustion behind her eyes. She rests her forehead against the steering wheel.

“Da, da,” Rhiannon mumbles. Y/N reaches behind her, barely able to reach her on the opposite side of the back seat, and she grabs onto her fingers.

“I know, peach,” Y/N sighs, “Miss daddy, too.”

She never considered how fragile life could be until she met Harry, not in the sense that death is an imminent and constant force, more in the sense that everything, her goals, her view on life, and her priorities, shifted when she met him. He became her influence, and she was willing to go through hell or high water just to be with him.

In summation, it takes all but five seconds for your life to completely change, for better or for worse.

There are dozens upon dozens of tiny events that build up and push you toward that one big moment that will change your life. Nothing is set in stone; different choices lead you down different paths, and your paths are constantly changing, either for better or worse, and slowly but surely, you’ll finally reach the top of that mountain. Every choice you questioned, every sacrifice you made, will come together in due time, just know that you’re working toward a greater purpose.

Y/N has never been a big believer in fate, that everything is beyond your control and that everything is already set in stone, but perhaps there is some truth to it. Fate could have pushed her to leave home when she was young. Fate could have put her on a safe and stable path when she went to university that landed her a good job when she was fresh out of her internship, and fate could have brought Harry into her life.

But she will never claim fate as a sole guide to her life. Fate is not responsible for her success nor her mistakes; that was all because of her hard work and integrity, her youth and ignorance. To her, fate is simply an excuse. People want to put blame on something, and when things seem out of their control or when they make bad decisions, they don’t feel quite as guilty. They’re willing to take credit for good things that happen but won’t when it affects them negatively.

Say, perhaps, that fate brought Y/N to that intersection, then maybe it was fate that planted the trees that obscured her vision; perhaps, it was fate that made the lights in the post go out that evening.

If so, fate has a twisted sense of humor.

If not, why wouldn’t fate give her any time to react before the impact?

How could fate be so cruel?

—

Working as an EMT, there are always certain risks you accept when you are on the clock; not only are you surrounded by an unbelievable pressure, there is always the ominous cloud looming overhead, a thin thread between life and death threatening to break at any moment, and it’s your job to keep them stable until they arrive at the hospital.

Not too hard, right?

Being able to save people from the brink of death and reuniting families makes almost everything worth it, but there are always scenes that stick with you for the rest of your life, and for Leslie Greene, this is one of them.

What stands out the most is the sound of a crying baby.

She’s seen some very horrific accidents: cars that have been reduced to nothing more than a ball of cheap scrap metal, with blood coating the shattered glass, to DOA’s, where the impact made them look unrecognizable. She has seen a lot of unspeakable things and had a lot of good people die on her watch.

But never has she ever had a baby present at any accident scene. That’s new.

Those cries will probably haunt her for the rest of her life.

“I didn’ see ‘em,” the man slurs from the police car. He has a bloodied lip and a slight bruise forming around his neck from the seat belt. The stench of rum rolls off him with every breath. He sits back, eyes dull and hooded, like he doesn’t even realize what he’s done.

Another EMT meets with her half-way to the other vehicle, lodged against the ditch across the way.

“Driver side sustained some serious damage. The baby has no discernible injuries, but another ambulance is a minute out to take her.”

From the driver’s side, Leslie can see the baby on the opposite side of the backseat, the car seat still tightly in place. The baby flails about, legs and arms kicking with strength. The car is twisted and mangled, but most of the damage is on the driver’s side, the door latched closed. Shattered glass cracks beneath her boot.

When they’re finally able to get the car door open, the woman, barely even mobile, opens her eyes slightly, but she flinches back at the bright lights. Blood drips down from her hairline, bruises already forming on her eyes from the impact on the steering wheel. Blood pools on the leather seat as she shifts with discomfort.

James, a newbie who has never been to a scene with this much damage, breathes out shakily. Leslie turns to see his lips curling, close to dry heaving.

“Go get the baby, yeah?”

He nods quickly, pale in the face, and scurries to the other side. The baby is soothed only momentarily before her wails continue. The woman’s eyes snap open fully this time, panic clear on her features. She tugs fruitlessly on the seat belt, a pained groan leaving her when she moves too quickly.

“Please, don’t move. My name is Leslie. I’m here to help.” She presses a hand to her chest, feeling the woman’s racing heart. “What’s your name?”

“Y/N,” she grits out, her eyes fluttering dangerously. From how she reacted to the lights, she probably has a concussion. Leslie cuts the seat belt, and glass falls onto the blacktop, clinking musically until they settle, like they’re sleeping. Through the gloves, she can feel how warm she is, sweat beading down from her forehead. Glass has settled in the divots of her wool sweater, but not before cutting her skin, caking the pearl necklace peeking from the neckline in blood.

“Y/N, I need you to turn a bit. I need to see where the bleeding is coming from,” Leslie says softly, inching her slowly onto her side. She sighs as more blood pools, gushing down her back and soaking her jumper further. It’s from a rib that broke through the skin. She can only hope that they didn’t puncture an organ.

“Does that hurt?” She asks as she puts pressure on the skin.

“No,” Y/N whimpers, eyes fluttering closed. When they get her on the stretcher, with minimal blood loss, she stirs with life again, her trembling hand reaching onto the sleeve of Leslie’s shirt, painting it red.

“Rhiannon—my baby girl—is she…” She swallows back tears.

“She’s fine.” Leslie knows that it’s unwise to lie to a patient; perhaps, she’s not entirely lying, but it’s never a good idea to give a victim a sure diagnosis without actually knowing anything. There may have been no physical signs of trauma to the baby, but internal problems are a very real possibility that they won’t know of until they get to the hospital.

She knows that she shouldn’t lie. It takes seven minutes to get to the nearest hospital, but it’s time that Y/N may not have; despite how quickly they were able to get her into the ambulance, she’s losing a lot of blood.

“Thank you,” Y/N sighs in relief, clutching onto her hand. Her wedding ring nearly cuts through the gloves from the pressure.

“Of course,” Leslie says, easily putting her on an IV.

“My husband,” she gasps suddenly, her arm jerking about. “Harry—he—he’s gonna be worried. ‘M supposed to call. He has to tell her goodnight—“

“Y/N, relax,” Leslie coos. “We will contact your husband. You need to focus on yourself, yeah? Don’t close your eyes, Y/N.”

Leslie can see the fear in her eyes; it’s something she’s grown very familiar with, but it’s not just fear for her own survival. She can see how scared she is for her family. She struggles to keep her eyes open, resilience and weakness fighting for power. Like any mother, she’s fighting for her family. She’s fighting to be able to hold onto and kiss them one more time.

She is trying so hard to fight for her family.

But at the same time, it’s so easy to give in.

“If I don’t make it,” she slurs, breathing quickly out of her nose. The blood from her nose slips down into her mouth, making her cough.

“Don’t say—”

“If I don’t, I need you to tell Harry that I love him, and that…” She lets out a pained whimper, struggling to catch her breath. “I’m sorry.”

“This wasn’t your fault, love.”

Her lip quivers, teeth chattering.

“I’m just sorry for everything.”

Leslie knows exactly what that means. She’s making amends, apologizing for not being able to fight. A lone tear slips from her eye, but Leslie wipes it away.

“I will.” She promises, gripping her hand tighter.

Only two more minutes.

Y/N gives her a thankful nod, and as if she has finally made peace with the world, she falls limp, the light leaving her eyes.

—

Harry has always enjoyed New York, and it’s not very often that he is able to stay for longer than one night. There is just something about it that’s completely different from London or L.A. that he likes about it; He couldn’t imagine actually living there, with the massive crowds and fluctuating weather, but it’s a nice place to visit, very different from what he’s used to.

He’s halfway through the tour for his most recent album, and New York is the last stop before he gets a short break to go home. He has a show tonight at Madison Square, a radio interview in the morning, and then, he’s home free. He’s been looking forward to this break before the tour even began. Don’t get him wrong, he loves performing and meeting fans and traveling the world, but now that he has a family, it gets more and more difficult not being there for the people who need him most.

“So, I heard,” the interviewer begins, smiling widely.

Sadly, Harry has already forgotten his name. The interview was supposed to be a short little thing for social media, only supposed to take 20 minutes, so he could prepare for the concert that evening, but it’s been nearly an hour, and there are no signs of stopping any time soon. Harry holds off yet another yawn, the lack of sleep from the night before washing over him. He’s having trouble focusing.

“You’ve got a baby girl.”

“Yes,” Harry beams. Even though he wants to keep his baby out of the limelight, he can’t help the excitement that fills his chest whenever she's mentioned. He can easily go on and on about how wonderful and sweet and perfect she is. He tugs on his pearl necklace, biting on his lips to keep quiet. He and Y/N agreed that it would be best for Rhia to grow up as normally as possible, which meant only posting about her on his private social media and avoiding busy places so as to not be seen, but some things were simply unavoidable, like interviewers trying to get him to let something about her slip to get their five-minutes-of-fame. It seems rude of him to completely ignore their questions, so he just sticks to very short, vague answers.

“How are you adjusting to fatherhood?”

“Uh,” he laughs, fiddling with his wedding ring. “It was a struggle to begin with. I will admit that, but it’s getting better. We’re still learning how to adjust to everything.”

He says it like he’s actually there, actively helping Y/N, even though he's on the other side of the world. He hasn’t seen his daughter in nearly two months; video chats have absolutely nothing on the real thing. He isn’t helping Y/N put Rhia to sleep when she’s feeling particularly fussy or feeding her at two in the morning, so Y/N can finally get some well-deserved sleep, and he’s not there to play with her or comfort her.

It feels like he’s lying.

He’s a sad excuse of a father. That’s what he really is.

The thought makes the smile fall from his face, but he’s quick to force another one; if there’s anything that he’s learned after years in the public eye, it’s how to fake emotions. The interviewer gives him an understanding smile. He’s older, but not too old, only having a few years on Harry, age wise, but the wrinkles beside his eyes and the nicked ring on his finger suggest years of familial experience.

“I completely understand. I have three boys of my own, and—”

“I am so sorry,” Jeff, Harry’s savior, says suddenly from behind the camera. “D’ya mind if I borrow Harry for a second?”

The interviewer nods.

“No problem. Take 15?”

Harry feels a twinge of guilt as he stands quickly from the chair, happy to finally have a break.

“Thanks,” Harry sighs, brushing past Jeff to the refreshment table. “‘M exhausted. Maybe it’s ‘cause of Rhi, but every little thing wakes me up. Swore I heard her cryin’ last night.” Jeff is quiet, fiddling with his hands nervously. Harry doesn’t notice how quiet the man has gotten, and he opens a bottle of water, rifling through his bag.

“Isn’t it almost 3? Y/N should be callin’ soon.”

“Harry,” Jeff says again, stronger this time. Harry still doesn’t notice how his voice breaks slightly, wobbly and hesitant.

“Yeah?” Harry drinks nearly half of the water, not sparing a glance up. He fishes for his phone, only to remember that he left it in the car. He sighs and turns. That’s when he finally notices how shaken up Jeff is, pale and nervous.

“What’s up? Look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he laughs, downing the rest of his water before tossing it in the bin.

“Harry,” Jeff says again, soft and somber, and it makes Harry stop. Dread settles in his stomach, deep and heavy. Jeff has never been one to be the bearer of bad news, and he tended to beat around the bush. “Why don’t you sit down?” Jeff tries to guide Harry over to the cheap stool in the corner of the room, but he rips his arm from his grasp.

Harry has never been one to let his mind run wild; he’s the calm one, who looks at reason and logic. He's the one to tell everyone that everything’s going to be fine; he’s the one who takes everything in stride, like water rolling down his back. Bumps in the road are nothing. He’s the one that comes up with solutions and executes them with ease, but with the way Jeff is treating him, his heart races.

“What?”

“There’s been an accident,” Jeff says slowly, placing a comforting hand on his arm.

It takes a second for Harry to process his words, but when he does, he stumbles back.

His mind automatically tries to reason with itself, that maybe it has nothing to do with him. Perhaps, something went wrong at the venue, and they would have to postpone, lengthening his stay for only a couple more days. Maybe, Mitch got food poisoning and will be unable to play that evening. There are dozens of reasonable explanations as to why Jeff pulled him aside, but Harry knows, deep down, that he wouldn’t have such a mournful look in his eyes, if it isn’t anything less than very serious.

Okay, fine, there was an accident. That could mean so many different things. An accident doesn’t even necessarily mean that they are in grave danger; they could be walking away unscathed.

“W-what? I-i-is it Gem? Mum?” Endless scenarios flicker in his mind, each one worse than the last. The one thing that he doesn’t even consider is it being Y/N or Rhiannon. His mind refuses to go down that road; if it did, there’s no way of knowing how he would react. He doesn’t even consider the possibility of them being in trouble. He hates how long Jeff is taking to tell him, as if holding off will soften the blow. Irritation starts bubbling below the surface, and he finds it hard to keep calm.

“Harry,” he says, shaking his head. “Anne called me. There was a drunk driver, and they’re headed to the hospital now—”

“They?”

His heart stops for a second, and it feels like his chest collapses in on itself. His body feels like it’s reacting to a stressful situation, with adrenaline and fear and anger, but Harry isn’t thinking with a grieving mind; it’s cloudy and slow, delusional, even. He shakes his head.

“No,” Harry mutters, taking a step forward. He can feel tears burn in his eyes, and he makes no move to wipe them. “It wasn’t…” Harry can’t finish the question. It makes him nauseous. Jeff nods solemnly, which, in any other circumstance, would have been answer enough. “Say it,” Harry snaps.

It’s unreal, like a dream. This didn’t happen to him, not his family.

They’re safe. There’s just been a mistake. That’s the only reasonable explanation to everything. Someone made a mistake. Maybe a fan thought it would be funny to pretend to be his mum, and they somehow got Jeff’s number. It had to be a horrible, awful, repulsive joke to get some attention or something; as implausible as that seems, it’s the only thought that makes sense to him because he can’t possibly understand the weight of the truth. He doesn’t know if he can handle it.

His girls are fine.

They have to be.

“Harry—” Jeff tries to calm him down, seeing a bright red flush to his skin, frustration seeping through every pore. Anger isn’t becoming of Harry; Jeff has only seen him angry a couple of times, but never to this extent: red in the face, words shaky, eyes glassy.

“I need to hear you say it.”

“It was Y/N and Rhiannon.”

That is the absolute last thing that he wanted to hear.

Even though, deep down, he knew that they were in trouble. From the first moment Jeff said his name to how sickly he looked when he told him to sit down, Harry knew, deep in his heart and mind, that his family is in trouble. He just wasn’t willing to accept it or even think about it, as if that could change reality. Until Jeff said those five words that confirmed his worst nightmare.

And he feels his world come crashing down, but he’s stuck, frozen, mind not moving nearly as fast as it should be.

“My—my…” He stutters, throat closing. “My girls?” The ache in his chest increases tenfold, and he holds onto his, feeling the racing of his heart and his quick breathing. “You’re fuckin’ with me,” he scoffs, rage building. He shakes his head with denial. “What kind of fuckin’ prick—”

“I wouldn’t joke about—”

Harry knows that. Y/N and Jeff are close. Hell, they even considered making him their daughter’s godfather. Jeff would never joke about something this serious, and Harry knows that, but he isn’t willing to accept the reality because the reality is nearly too much for him to comprehend, to carry on his already weak shoulders.

“No, they’re not,” Harry closes his eyes, hands slipping through his hair like it normally does when he’s anxious. He tugs on it, but the pain is nothing compared to the sick feeling in his stomach or the crack in his pounding heart. He honestly feels like he’s going to be ill or pass out, feeling his mouth dry up, his hands clamming up, and he begins to feel light-headed.

“Y/N’s just about to call me. It’s Rhi’s bedtime.” He rambles, not listening to Jeff.

They can’t be going to a hospital. He talked to Y/N just this morning when he couldn’t fall asleep. He spoke about his worries and doubts and guilt that he felt for being so far away from them, and Y/N soothed all of his fears and reservations, reminding him why he does what he does. Before she left, she told him that she loved him, and he could hear Rhi babbling away in the background, content and happy and safe.

“There’s a plane leaving in a half an hour—”

“And I sing to her. That's the only way she’ll sleep through the night. She hasn’t been sleepin’ very well these past few days,” he says, lost in his thoughts. His words begin to slur.

“Harry, listen to me,” Jeff says, holding onto his shoulders, trying to keep him grounded, from falling apart. Harry doesn’t get anxious often, but when he does, everything comes to a startling halt; he’s not used to it, and he lets it overwhelm him until he can’t function. That’s the last thing anyone needs.

“No, no, they’re fine. They’re fine. They’re—” He swallows, and like a wave, realization dawns on him, drowning him. His family is in the hospital, and he’s not there with them. “Oh, god,” he cries, feeling bile burn his throat. He sinks to his knees, hand pitifully covering his mouth to keep from vomiting. His vision darkens. It feels like the walls are crumbling down, and he’s stuck, frozen and alone, with no one coming to save him.

Just like his girls.

“Harry, you can’t shut down, not now,” Jeff says, kneeling beside him. “They need you.”

He knows that. He needs to be strong for the both of them, so he wipes away his tears, clenches his jaw, and pushes everything down, even if it feels like he’s choking. He has to be strong for the both of them.

The drive to the airport is a blur. He swallows back his tears until his head feels like it’s going to burst and holds his breath until he can see black spots in his vision, but most of all, he’s numb. A small part of him is still trying to convince himself that this is all just a big misunderstanding, but the larger part, the part that’s screaming the loudest, tells him he’s being irrational and selfish.

It takes 7 hours to get home; he has to travel across an entire ocean to get to his family.

How unfair is that?

He wants to blame the world, God, fate. He wants to curse whatever force existed, but behind all of the hate and accusations and judgement, he is nothing more than a guilty, broken shell of a man.

He’s angry with himself, mostly, with the choices he’s made, with how selfish and greedy he was, and how inconsiderate his actions have been for the past few months. He can’t believe that he could be so self-centered, taking Y/N for granted. She’s his wife; they’re supposed to be partners, equals, and he treated her like she was disposable while he traveled the world, living out a dying dream.

He wishes he was there, to not only prevent it, but also to tell her just one last time how important she was to him and tell her of the pain that would spread in his chest at the possibility of losing her or their child; he wants so badly to show his love for her. In four days, they would have been celebrating six years together, and in that time, he has never doubted his love for her. He knew, from the moment they met, that she was meant to be with him until the very end. They were soulmates.

Now that he might lose her and his baby, he feels like his soul is being ripped out of his chest, leaving nothing but a gaping, painful void.

Jeff sends him a link to Twitter and a message: Harry, take all the time you need.

The post says: Due to a personal emergency, Harry will not be able to make the show at MSG this evening, and all tour dates from this moment forth will be canceled until further notice. Know that he wishes he could be with you all, and please, respect his privacy in these trying times.

He calls his mother shortly after, but she doesn’t answer. When he tries Gem, she picks up after a few rings, shaky and winded. He sighs, trying to quell the tremors in his hands. His lips quiver.

“What’s goin’ on?”

Gemma explains what happened to the best of her ability, that Y/N just left to go back to the cottage after eating dinner And that Anne received a call from the hospital, after he didn’t answer his phone (that part stung to hear).

“Please—” He begins, but his voice teeters and breaks at the end. He can’t help the tears that slip down his cheeks. Exhausted and weak, he finally cries. He cries for his wife, his child, and himself. They’re not heart-wrenching sobs, where he’s keeled over, grief and anxiety spilling out of every pore, but they leave him breathless, chest aching.

“Please, tell me everythin’s gonna be fine.”

Her silence is answer enough. She can’t promise him anything. It’s too early to tell, and she’s not going to lie to him, either, not when his wife and child’s life is in the balance.

“I don’t know, Harry,” Gemma admits, “but I will call you as soon—”

He hangs up before she can finish.

—

Rain thunders onto the broken concrete, a flash of lightning brightening the dull sky. Despite the rain, the earth nearly brimming with life, the hospital is dead. There’s not a soul going in or out. The lights flicker eerily in the corner of his eye. It’s four in the morning, so it’s not much of a surprise, but the sight of it being so lifeless just feels wrong.

His mind is moving quicker than the world can keep up with, it seems, and he feels like it goes against the laws of nature. It’s a strange feeling when you feel like you’re falling apart, but the world continues on; most people on the street wouldn’t bat an eye or even pay any notice to him as he’s deteriorating before their very eyes.

As irrational as it is, it feels wrong. It feels wrong that everyone else is able to go on while his life is crumbling.

He called Gemma when he landed, and there were still no updates on their condition. He broke dozens of traffic laws to get there, and now, he stands outside the entrance, still wearing his wool jumper from the day before, smelling like an airport, with rain soaking his hair. Droplets slip down his cheek and jaw, livening the dried tears from earlier, and they seep into his mouth; he can taste the salt.

He’s just staring at the flickering sign.

He can’t move.

Well, that’s not really it; he can move, he can feel, and he can see, but he doesn’t want to move.

How fucked up is that?

He doesn’t want to go inside. Despite all of his fears, and his longing for answers, and his need to see his family, he can’t move.

Because that would make everything real.

If he goes inside, if he pushes past those doors and sees the doctors, he can’t deny it anymore. When he goes inside, he has to face the very real possibility that he could lose his wife and daughter. He isn’t sure if he’s strong enough to handle it.

He’s being selfish. He knows that. He should be running inside, yelling at doctors and nurses to tell him what they’re doing about his family. He should be trying to do something, anything to see his wife and daughter.

But why is it so hard to move his feet?

And why does he still feel so numb?

He breathes in the cold air, burning his tender throat.

When he finally opens those doors, past the point of no return, he’s welcomed by a blinding light and the scent of antiseptic. The inside is just as lifeless, with dull white walls that leaves his head throbbing and dingy carpet that scrapes against his boots. He follows the signs, leading to the waiting room.

A new round of tears fills his eyes when he sees his mother’s familiar figure. He hasn’t wanted to just completely collapse into her arms, crying, in years, but now, he just wants to be in the comfort of her presence, to forget the world.

But he can’t, just like Jeff told him, he needs to stay strong, for them. He can’t shut down. He breathes out deeply, raises his head, and calls out for his mother.

Anne turns around, and when he sees Rhiannon pressed tightly to her chest, safe and sound, he feels more of his strength return, like he can breathe a little easier. He feels his knees weaken, but he keeps moving. He doesn’t feel quite so empty and broken and numb, a small ray of hope filling him for the first time in hours. He cups the back of her little head, thumb caressing the soft baby hairs. They’ve gotten thicker since the last time he saw her.

“She’s fine, Harry, just a little shaken up,” Anne says, smiling slightly.

His happiness is short lived when Gemma stands from behind Anne.

“Y/N’s in surgery right now. All we can do is wait,” she says, her eyes ringed with red, mirroring his own.

“Da,” Rhia says, and he smiles, a single tear running down his cheek. He wipes it and sniffles.

Y/N pretended to be upset when that was Rhi’s first word. She said it only hours before he had to leave. They were in their home, and Y/N was helping him lug his suitcases out of the bedroom when he heard it. It sounded like another babble, but it became clearer until—

“Da,” she squealed, bouncing in her little jumper chair. “Dada.” She hit a little plastic toy ring on the tray

“Y/N,” he called out for her and knelt down in front of his baby. She rushed out of the bedroom.

“What? Is something wrong?”

“Say it again, peach, show mummy,” he cooed, and Rhi repeated it, again and again, reaching for her father.

“I carry her around for nine months and feed her out of my tit,” Y/N whined, “and this is the thanks I get?”

They laughed, nevertheless. It was a bittersweet moment, as he looks back on it now. He was so happy that Rhiannon was growing and learning, but she was growing up too fast for his liking. He lifted Rhi up out of the chair and pressed a gentle kiss to her chubby cheek, tears stinging behind his eyes.

“She’s just daddy’s little girl. Aren’t ya, peach?”

She left a slobbery kiss, well, her version of a kiss (which was more tongue than lip) on his nose. He scrunched up his face, and her features pinched together in return, mimicking him.

“See, jus’ a little mini-me you are,” he said, tickling under her chin.

And when she called out to him after saying their final farewells in the airport, it made it even more difficult for him to leave.

Maybe it was a sign that he shouldn’t leave.

He should have listened.

He’s knocked back into the present when his baby girl looks up at him, eyes lit up with innocence, completely unaware of the dire situation they’re in. They’re not in their London home, and Y/N’s not there with him. His lips wobble, nose burning. His chest hurts, whether from unshed tears or from the thought of actually losing the love of his life, he doesn’t know.

He cups his baby girl’s cheek.

Rhia has Y/N’s eyes. He loves her eyes. When she first opened them, as he held her for the first time, bundled tightly in his arms, he cried big, fat tears until they were all dried up. He felt nothing but love for this little human because she was a perfect mixture of him and Y/N. He loves Rhiannon’s eyes, but now, they serve as nothing but a deathly reminder of his wife, who could possibly not survive these next few hours.

She gives him a gummy smile, her little tongue slipping out over her lips. There’s some white peeking through her gums, and his heart aches. He wipes some drool from her chin, and she reaches for him, but he backs away.

His stomach sinks, and he wants the ground to swallow him whole. His mother looks at him softly, not a shred of disappointment apparent on her face, as if she knew he wouldn’t be able to hold his own daughter. His throat closes.

How could he be so weak?

Rhia’s smile drips down, but she lays her head back on her Nana’s shoulder. Anne cups the girl’s head, wrapping the thinly woven blanket tighter around her; sadness and pity present in the air.

“‘M gonna check in with the nurse, see how Y/N’s doin’,” he whispers, backing away, and he stumbles down the hallway, following the signs until he sees the nearest nurse, clad in pale blue scrubs. Even though he’s sure the nurse expects him to look nothing less than distraught, he smooths down his clothes and clears his throat, trying to quell the cries building, lips quivering pitifully.

“Do you have any information on Y/N Styles?” His voice is watery and broken.

The nurse looks at him with sad eyes, warm and understanding, like his mother’s. How does everyone else know what he’s feeling besides himself?

“No, I’m sorry, sir,” she says, and he simply nods. He doesn’t have the energy to be upset or press her anymore. The heaviness on his chest building, he doesn’t even try to stop it anymore. He just wants to wallow, curl up and cry until he’s finally able to wake up from this nightmare. He hates the feeling like he’s just given up, accepted that Y/N may not come back from this.

He wants to fight, but all of the fight he has left him as soon as Jeff told him the news.

“Thank you,” he whispers, heading back to the waiting room. He sits down silently on the chairs next to Gemma, the worn wood squealing from the sudden weight. Anne paces in front of them, rocking Rhia back and forth, like she has been for the past few hours; call it a nervous tick or a mother’s instinct, but holding Rhiannon calms her.

Gemma glances at him in the corner of her eye, unsure of how to comfort him in such a situation. He can see her

“I can’t hold her, Gem,” he says weakly, and she looks at him, finding his gaze held on the small little bundle in their mother’s arms. She sighs. “What if—” There’s a bitter taste on his tongue. He covers his mouth with trembling hands, trying to push back the cries swelling in his chest.

“What if Y/N dies?”

It’s one thing to think about it, but saying it aloud breaks his heart in two.

Y/N has been a constant in his life for six years, and in that time, she became his rock, his shoulder to cry on, his stability, who held his heart so close to her. Then, he thinks about his baby girl, who has had her mother for barely seven months, just to have her ripped away so easily because of some drunk who didn’t know when to quit, and he thinks he’s going to be sick again.

It takes only one mistake to set off a series of irreversible events.

Exhausted, he doesn’t fight the sob that comes out, his shoulders shaking as more and more. He heaves for breath, curling into himself. Gemma wraps an arm around him, and he cries into her shoulder. He feels useless, sinking further into the endless pit in his mind. He’s never considered the possibility of Y/N never being there with him, holding his hand through the fire, and now that possibility is very real; he can’t face it.

When he’s run himself dry, he finally looks at her with red-rimmed eyes and swollen cheeks.

“If she dies, I dunno if I could even look at her,” he admits. “To see her eyes...” Gemma just listens. She knows that there’s nothing she could ever say to make the situation any better. She holds her brother’s hands tightly. “I should have been here,” he says, nodding softly.

“Harry, there’s nothing you could have done. It’s that prick’s fault, not yours,” she says angrily. She’s trying to keep calm, for everyone’s sake, but it’s difficult when it feels like her family is being torn apart.

“I would’ve been driving,” Harry insists. “I would be the one in there, not her, and they would’ve been safe.”

“You don’t know that,” Gemma argues softly. She’s never seen him like this before, but that’s to be expected in the situation they’re in. He’s normally such an optimistic person, and to hear him degrade himself is almost too much to handle.

“If she does make it—”

“When she makes it,” Gem snaps.

“She’s gonna hate me. I know it.”

“She has never blamed you for anything, not when fans gave her shit, not when paps would follow her, and especially not when you had to leave. There are some things that are simply out of our control, and she understands. She understands that you can’t be there all the time. She understands that this is your job, and your job has made you who you are today. She won’t blame you for this either, so don’t blame yourself.”

“You don’t understand,” he sighs. It’s true. She does not understand what he’s gone through. She doesn’t know what it feels like, but she knows that the damage is already done. There’s no use in looking back and analyzing everything to see what they could have done differently.

“I should’ve been here.”

“If only things were that simple.”

“Harry?” A shallow, unfamiliar voice speaks from behind him, making everyone raise their heads.

Anxiety spikes in his stomach. He wonders how anyone could have recognized him, since there is absolutely no one else in the hospital, and how insensitive they would have to be to come talk to him while he’s in such a state. Anger bubbles within him, his skin turning hot as he turns to face the woman.

The blood on her uniform makes him pause.

“My name is Leslie. I was one of the first people on the scene.”

“Do you know anything?” She shakes her head sadly.

“But I was with your wife in the ambulance. She wanted me to tell you that she loves you and…” She coughs, hesitation clear on her features. “And not to give up.”

She probably doesn’t realize how much he needed to hear those words because when he stands and tugs her into a hug, she tenses, hesitantly wrapping her arms around him. Again, like when he saw his baby girl, hope warms him, blanketing and strengthening him.

It’s like Y/N is speaking to him through her.

“Thank you,” he whispers, offering her a weak smile. Just as they part, an older woman rounds the corner. Everyone sits up a little straighter, the air becoming a little tenser, when she gets closer to them.

“She’s resting, now, but she should be up in a few hours,” the doctor smiles.

Harry wants to crumple to the ground as a weight lifts from his chest, and he can finally breathe. He’s run ragged, a broken cry slipping out of his blubbering lips. He tugs Gemma into his arms, who returns the embrace wholeheartedly. Such relief and warmth fills him that he can barely hear the doctor as she continues.

“There was some pretty severe internal bleeding, but we got her stabilized. She also had a couple broken ribs, nothing that time and care won’t heal. After we do some more tests, she should be released in about a week. I can show you to her room, if you’d like?”

“Yes,” Harry cries.

When they reach Y/N’s room, Harry pauses outside and turns to his mother. Her eyes, noticing the confliction in his eyes, are soft and understanding. He never thought about seeing her in such a state until now, but least she’s still with him, his little fighter, just like Rhi.

“Mum, can I, uh…” He nibbles on his lip, holding his arms out.

“Course,” Anne says, moving the baby in his open arms.

“Hi, peach,” he says, smiling. She sleeps contentedly, her features relaxed. His heart twinges as she burrows herself into his chest, and he wraps the blanket a little tighter around her.

“We’ll go to the cottage and get some extra clothes for you all,” Gemma says, knowing that Harry needs this time alone. She tugs her mother, who hesitates but soon follows.

He expected her condition to be poor, but that doesn’t stop the burning in his eyes when he sees her, hooked up to what seems like dozens of machines, her face swollen, and stitches along her hairline; she looks so fragile, so broken, but her heart beat is strong, breathing steady. As if sensing her father’s discomfort, Rhi burrows further in his arms, snuffling lightly.

He settles in a chair next to Y/N’s bed, one hand holding hers while the other arm cradles his baby.

“Gave daddy a scare earlier, peach,” he coos. “Daddy’s sorry that he wasn’t there with ya.”

He promises her many things, that she’s safe, that nothing will ever happen to her, and that her mum is safe, too, but most importantly, he promises to be there for her. He cries silently, careful to keep the tears and painful jolts of his chest from waking Rhi. He just can’t help it. After the dust settles and the smoke is cleared, the gravity of the situation weighs on him: he could have lost the two most important people in his life, and he would not have been there.

A nurse stops by to bring a bassinet for Rhiannon and to check on Y/N, who is doing wonderfully, especially after such an invasive surgery.

Y/N wakes after about an hour, just as the sun peaks beyond the horizon. Harry is still up, of course, watching his girls, finding comfort in the heart monitor. He pushes the bassinet back and forth with his foot.

“H?”

He beams when he hears her voice, gravely and worn, but it’s her voice nonetheless, comforting and warm. He wishes that he could hold her and kiss her until his love heals her wounds, but he has to settle for holding her hand and kissing her forehead for the time being.

“I’m sorry,” she sobs, tears slipping past her swollen eyes. “It happened so fast.”

“What are you sorry for, lovie? You did absolutely nothin’ wrong,” he says, brushing back her hair.

“You had to leave because I wasn’t being careful enough, and I—”

His heart aches, eyes glazing over. He hates that he made her feel like his job was more important than her.

“No, none of that,” he says, shaking his head. “That doesn’t matter. Listen, this was not your fault, and as far as tour goes, it’s not nearly as important as you two. I would drop everythin’ if you needed me to. There is nothin’ that I wouldn’t do for you. You know that, right? You both are my life, now; I made that promise the day we got married and the day she was born. You both are my number one priority, and I haven’t been treating you like it. For that, I’m so sorry.”

“Harry—”

“It was selfish of me to think that I could live in the past and the present, live the life that I used to while trying to be a father and a husband. It wasn’t fair of me, and I am so, so very sorry, babylove.”

He kisses her, careful of her bruises, and she sinks further into the bed, comforted by his warm words and tender touches. Her eyes, fluttering with exhaustion and filled with tears, refuse to close, as if she’s afraid that he’ll be gone by the time she wakes. He runs his thumb along her cheek, mindful of the swollen areas. For the first time in what feels like years, his mind is calm, basking in the feeling of happiness as he’s finally able to feel and see his family, safe and within his reach. That’s all he’s ever wanted, and as he sees her nodding off, he presses a quick kiss to her knuckles, whispering.

“Rest, lovie, I’ll be here. Don’t worry.”

She falls asleep with a faint smile.

Perhaps, fate isn’t cruel as many think. Just like anything, it can be merciful and loving for those who are worth mercy and love.

—

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #ellie writes #ellie writes angst #not my gif #credit to owner

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casmybelovedass · 4 years

Text

The Destiel Folder: Season 5

[Season 4 here]

Episode 1:

Dean is visibly upset about Cas' death, especially at (6:07), and Zachariah notices. From here on, we have a progressive worse reaction from Dean to each of Castiel's deaths

Dean calls Cas a 'friend', again sounding very upset (8:20)

We also get a parallel between Dean and Sam: "I learned that from my friend Cas, you son of a bitch!" and "I learned that from Ruby." (9:10) ICWAW, this parallel would implicate romantic subtext

Cas comes back, bringing top energy onto Zachariah, and Dean just... checks him out (32:43) [this is a frequent thing by the way, I'm on S10 right now, it is]

Episode 2:

I'm so fuckin sorry but I'm laughing too hard at this: D"God" C"Yes" D"God" C"Yes!" (4:09) guys, don't sex-talk in front of Sam and Bobby

"I rebelled, and I did it, all of it, for you." (4:54)

Dean gives in to Cas' top energy "Dean, give it to me." (5:53) shit, guys, enough sex-talk

Episode 3:

The 'personal space scene'. Dean, love, if someone is in your personal bubble, and you don't want them there, you don't stand there for 10 seconds while flicking your gaze from their eyes to their lips TWICE (6:04) ICWAW, these scene would be read as full of sexual tension

Dean here compares himself and Cas to Thelma & Louise, from a movie with HELLA lesbian subtext. And the way he looks at Cas for 7 seconds, tongue between his teeth and just... this fucking look (7:37)

You don't look at friends that way. You don't.

"I need your help, because you're the only one who'll help me. Please". (7:58) Cas trusts Dean will help him while no other would, and he is right... also Dean keeps glancing at his lips

The way Dean fixs Cas' tie and collar, so domestic. (10:34) [This will parallel in 10x05 when Dean messes up musical!Castiel's tie for it to be a legit costume.] Also, the whole police station scene is full of Old married couple moments

"There are two things that I know for certain. One, Bert and Ernie are gay." And then they were voted best chemestry couple like Bert and Ernie. Just saying. (16:23) "Two, you are not gonna die a virgin. Not on my watch... let's go."... and Cas just follows Dean like nothing, but later on...

... Cas is beyond terrified at the idea of being intimate with a woman (11:24),

tho he followed Dean with no problem. ... Did... did he think Dean was making an offer?

He chugs down a beer in fear, poor baby

And he is so jumpy I'm dying

Dean admits Cas is the only one who has made him laugh for real in years (20:58), also, shoulder hug, and Cas, who was on the verge of tears a moment earlier, is smiling and comfortable now.

"Don't look at me, it was his idea." (26:57) the look Cas gives Dean, they're so fucking #MARRIED

"Today you're my little bitch." "... What he said!" Dean is impressed and amused by Cas' smugness (and top energy) (31:55) Basically "Well, mark me down as scared and horny!"

Dean understands how Cas feels, and wants to help. He says he feels good with him "I've had more fun with you in the past 24h that I've had with Sam in years... and you're not that much fun." (36:06) Dean doesn't want to be alone, didn't want Cas to leave.

Episode 4:

Dean sounds and looks like a teenager on the phone with their crush, teasing Cas while smiling softly (1:22). Also "I'll just... wait here then." (2:15)

Even as a mortal, Cas stuck with Dean through the apocalypse, living in pain, chugging down drugs, but never leaving Dean's side. Being his second during hunts. Having only each other

And this Cas can recognize this Dean is not his own only by glancing at him for a moment (... by looking at his dick?!) (18:37)

Dean is stunned and concerned about apocalypse!Cas and how his life turned out

Apocalypse!Cas sits like Dean. Aww, they've been rubbing off on each other [yeah, I bet] (22:27)

"I like past you!" and that smile. So sweet and nostalgic (25:35)

This whole scene (23:48). They are so #MARRIED

Dean is concerned about Cas doing drugs, being basically depressed and living like shit (28:03)

Cas saves Dean again. "We had an appointment." "...Don't ever change." and the way they stare at each other (38:49) look at those smiles and how longingly Cas looks at Dean

Episode 8:

Not a destiel moment, but Dean is totally BI: (12:04); "Sure" (12:42); "What makes Dr Sexy, SEXY, is that he wears cowboy boots!" (12:57); and Dean loves cowboys, just saying

Is... is Dean thinking about Cas being pretty? And about the fact that a creepy guy just called his angel 'pretty'? (20:26)

First thing Dean requests Gabe does is to bring Cas back, threatening him

Episode 9:

Dean reacting to Damien and Barnes being a couple is... LOL (36:27) and after that (38:40), he is on his own, fiddling with his keys, smiling to himself. And when Sam asks if he is okay, he responds "Yeah, you know? I think I'm good." while still smiling to himself. Is he happy about an queer man portraying him, about seeing himself in a confident, openly queer man in a relationship? What else could it be?

Episode 13:

Dean gets more and more worried when Cas gets/is hurt (9:45)(38:02). Also, he got Cas a honeymoon suite. Wow. How sweet.

Episode 14:

The phone call scene. The stares, the tension... look at this shit (10:00)

Dean, stop checking out Cas. You're working. But seriously, look at him. He likes his roughness. AND AGAIN WITH THE LIPS STARING (11:02)

Dean and Cas, after being touched by a cherub, stand shoulder-to-shoulder close to each other, in front of a bi-coloured window (13:26-13:33) I MEAN- Also, Dean, you're staring at a naked man's dong... just saying (13:33-13:36)... stop that, be a professional

Is this the first wink Dean gives at Cas? (14:37) for real? With a cherub in the room? Wow.

(16:16) "Where did he go?" "I belive you upset him." Look at Cas during this scene. #MARRIED

Cas asks Dean where his Famine-induced-hunger is, why he seems unaffected by it... and Dean stares at Cas, then the burger he is holding, then back at him, like he has everything he could want right there, in his Baby (29:22)

Episode 16:

... I'm sorry, but... did Cas really have to MOAN Dean's name to get his attention? (5:24)

I believe this is the first time we ever hear Dean say the words "I love you" (14:38-28:09), and he is saying them to Sam. The only other time we hear him say it is to his mother in 12x22. And the only other person he was supposed to say those words to was, in fact, Cas in 8x17. Let that sink in.

"You son of a bitch." Dean's been rubbing off on Cas, and this is not the only line he has picked up from Dean (38:29)

Episode 17:

This is such a sweet scene. Cas is showing himself weak once again, and Dean sympathises with him, reassures him, confides in him. How sweet. (30:17) ICWAW, this would be seen as a romantic bonding moment

Episode 18:

Cas legit looks like an angry wife. Look how pissed he is at Dean (6:19) #MARRIED

This is such a #MARRIED scene, with Cas being pissy at Dean "being a coward". Also "Yeah, you know what? Blow me, Cas!" and his look after that, like "Does... does he actually want me to?" (13:22)

and this is not the last 'sexual invitation' Dean makes Cas. In fact, minutes later...

"Cas, not for nothing, but, the last person who looked at me like that... I got laid. *wink*" ... just... that (17:53). ICWAW, people would believe this was flirtatious, SHAMELESS, teasing

Look at that FULL TOP MODE tho

"I gave everything for you, and this is what you give to me?" (25:28) Cas is not just angry at Dean for giving up on the plan, but for giving up on life, on them. "So you could surrender to them?" (25:17) not "So you can let them win". It could've been phrased that way, but this is not about the angels winning. It's about Dean giving up on them. Cas is 'cause Dean would be selfishly leaving them

Cas starts taking off his tie and... Dean just stares (31:46). Moments later, we find out Cas totally took his shirt off in front of the boys to make the banishing simbol on his chest, and by the way Dean was STARING when it was only a tie, I bet he either gawked or averted his eyes. Either way, GAY

Cas prefers to die rather than watch Dean fail and die himself (31:55) Also, Sam still thinks of Dean as a hero who can do no wrong, while Cas recognizes his flaws and weaknesses. He knows Dean

Zachariah grabs Dean by the collar and gets in his face. Dean does nothing but flinch a little, mantaining his strong appearance. He only submits and looks overwhelmed when Cas does it (37:50)

Episode 19:

Cas is priority to Dean over Adam. He's more family to him than his actual blood (5:29)

Episode 21:

Cas is basically human, bloody, hurt, powerless and weak. First thing he does? Reach out for Dean (3:16)

Cas is still weak and powerless, and took a bus for miles, just to get back to Dean (12:35)

Episode 22:

Moments before basically going and kill himself, Dean focuses on Cas instead of Bobby, his father figure (24:35)

Cas is on the verge of tears at the thought of Dean dying (25:20)

We know Cas can heal without having to touch the body, but we always see him reach for contact with Dean (35:52) [That's why in S15, it hurts to see Cas not touching Dean while healing him. It feels unnatural]

Dean loves cowboys, and associates Cas to a sheriff. Cas, knowing that, smiles softly at the idea(37:30). Also, Dean obviously doesn't want Cas to leave, and tears up when he does

[Season 6>>]

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roguerogerss · 4 years

Text

A Long Day of Saving Your Ass

(gif isn’t mine, creds to the owner!)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Plot: “Hi darlin! If you’re still taking requests could you do a Bucky x reader where she gets her ass saved from literal death by Bucky during a mission and she refuses to leave his side on the way back or at the tower? And he gives her a back/foot massage to make her nerves calm down aaand they may or may not share a kiss bc they like each other? I hope that makes sense, tysm! 💞” - requested by anon

W/C: 2.3k

Warnings: mentions of fights/blood/kinda ptsd but not really? she’s pretty much just really shaken up and Bucky’s cute and protective as hell about it. also kinda sexual themes towards the end, no smut or anything though it’s all fluff!

(A/N: first of all, thank you so much for all of the love on my last fic, it really really does mean the world and that was just totally insane. okay, so, this request only came in yesterday, but I was so in love with the concept and had this wave of ideas for what I could write, and so here it is! thank you so much for this one, bby! as always, requests are open for any marvel boy you want, plus any of the stranger things boys. i do smut too hehe. any feedback is so welcome and appreciated, it really helps! please like and reblog!)

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The quinjet was ready to take off, engine on, Steve behind the wheel. But Y/N wasn't there yet. They'd been holding off on leaving, giving her time to get out and the opportunity to do it without help, but Bucky had been antsy since he'd gotten on the vehicle and realised that she wasn't there.

It wasn't exactly a secret that he liked her, in a way that he hadn't really liked anyone in over seventy years. He'd never admitted it to anyone, not even to himself out loud, but you have to have a certain level of intelligence and basic sight to join the Avengers in the first place, and it wasn't hard to figure out.

Y/N was oblivious to it, rolling her eyes whenever Natasha teased her about 'Bucky's little crush', never taking it seriously. If she'd known that they were really serious about it, she wouldn't have hesitated to make a move. She was inherently forward, had no sense of shame whatsoever, it was common knowledge that she would've said something, at the very least.

"Hey, Y/N, where are you right now?" Bucky spoke into the intercoms, earning wide eyed glances from the rest of the team. They knew that she hated being rushed, hated being babied even more, and the fact that Bucky was doing both was probably about to blow up in all of their faces.

There were obvious sounds of struggle on her end as she answered back with a grunt, "South side, got ten guys on my case. Think I can handle it, though."

"We're ready to leave, Y/N." Bucky grunted, leaning forward in his seat and chewing at his lip. He was met back with a crash and a strangled groan from the assassin, making him shoot up and towards the exit of the ship.

"Bucky, where are you going? She'll kill you if you try to help her-" Tony was standing now, too, worried about his teammate, but figuring that she'd find some way out. Bucky shook his head and pressed the button to open the escape hatch.

"She's going to die if I don't help her, Stark. Keep the engine running, we'll be back in a second." And he was gone with that. Steve closed the hatch, radioing to Bucky to 'keep in touch' as he did so.

Bucky pulled his machine gun from the holster on his back, shooting two guards that were stationed at the front entrance of the Hydra base that they'd sneakily infiltrated, managing to only cause a few minor scenes. He was inside and backed against a wall, scoping out his route to the south side of the building, without wasting a second.

His feet pounded on the metal stairs as he made his way down to where they'd been earlier, where he knew that Y/N still was, and he looked around himself cautiously, gears in his arm turning.

He could hear the fight before he could see it, and he could tell from the noises that Y/N wasn't doing so well. A lot of crashing, thuds, groans mostly from her. The sight wasn't exactly easy to look at either, she was covered in blood, slumped against a wall and kicking her legs wildly while one of the agents held a gun to her temple.

Bucky knew that he had to act fast, and so he shot the agent with the gun without giving away his position, and then proceeded to open fire on the rest of them, trusting in the fact that Y/N knew how to dodge a bullet.

When he was sure that the agents were dead, each one of them crumpled in heaps on the floor, he slung his gun back over his shoulder and ran for Y/N, who let out a relieved sigh upon seeing Bucky. "Oh my God, Buck." She whispered. She wasn't sure what she meant by the words, what she wanted to convey in them, but he seemed to pick up just fine as he wrapped his arms around her shaking and compacted body.

"You're okay, I've got you." He rested his head on top of hers for a second, breathing heavy, just allowing himself to enjoy how it felt to have his body draped over hers. "We've gotta go, okay?"

"I can't run." She said assertively, knowing that there was no way that she'd be able to get up and run like hell, like Bucky seemingly wanted her to. He nodded once, gave her an apologetic smile, and then scooped her up into his arms without another word.

She scrambled to grip onto his black jacket, a gasp leaving her mouth as he picked her up from the floor, flesh arm supporting the backs of her knees and the metal one around her shoulders. He chuckled at her reaction, the way that she white-knuckled the leather of his combat jacket. "Don't worry, I'm not gonna drop you."

"How do you expect me to believe that?" She croaked, trying her hardest to be her usual, sardonic self, but failing miserably as she realised just how fast and hard her heart was beating.

"Because I just saved you from at least ten guys who wanted to kill you within a minute, I'm not dropping you." Bucky replied as he ascended the stairs and she buried her face in his chest, the smell of his cologne relaxing her. He allowed a soft smile to cross his face, bringing his metal hand to her head and almost rocking her like an infant or a small child who had a nightmare.

For Tony saying that she hated being 'babied', she seemed to enjoy it when it was coming from Bucky.

They were back at the ship within a few minutes. Steve had taken off, and Bucky had gone to sit in the back of the ship on his own. Or at least, he'd wanted to sit in the back of the ship on his own, but Y/N was so shaken up and had looked at him like she was a lost puppy when he'd tried to leave her alone, and so he smiled and told her to come with him.

Everyone else had looked between themselves, grinning like mad. "He really likes her." Steve commented and Natasha nodded.

"She really likes him, I'm well aware of that fact." She said.

"I've never seen The Winter Soldier so caring. And, was that - sorry if this seems outlandish - a smile? On Bucky Barnes' face? Surely not." Tony pitched in, leaning back in his chair while his friends laughed.

Meanwhile, Y/N was curled up in a chair, chewing at her fingernails and dabbing at her bloody face with a wet cloth that Bruce had given her the second that she'd gotten on the ship. Bucky watched her, his heart breaking at the way that her hands shook as she brought them to her face, at the way that her entire body shook.

"Hey." He placed a tender and soothing hand on her back, rubbing gentle circles there. "It's okay, you're safe now."

She gave him a wobbly smile that didn't quite reach her eyes and placed her hand over his, allowing him to interlock their fingers. "Yeah. Safe now."

————

She still hadn't left his side, apart from briefly so that she could take a shower. He'd offered to come back to her room with her when she'd hovered around the lounge while everyone else had already dispersed, reminding her that no one was going to hurt her.

She was laying on her bed, hair wet and wearing nothing but a big shirt, while Bucky sat awkwardly on the edge of it, twisting the sheets between his fingers. "You don't have to sit there, you know. I have a sofa, or you can sit back."

Bucky shook his head and looked round at her, she was still visibly shaking, eyes darting around to show just how on edge she was. "It's fine, darlin'. M'fine." His voice was more ragged than he'd expected it to be. "I'm just here to make sure that you're okay."

"Well," She held her arms out, "Come here, that'd make me feel okay." It was a bold move, one that told of her feelings towards Bucky, but she didn't mind much, figuring that he probably wouldn't decline her.

He chuckled, shaking his head at her, but still, kicked his boots off and lay down next to her, allowing her to wrap her arms tightly around his torso and press her cheek over his heart. "Hey, you're okay, sweetheart." He stroked her hair. "There's nothing to be on edge about, yeah? I've got you."

"Yeah. Yeah, I know. Sorry, I don't know why I'm so freaked out." Her breathing was picking back up again, so Bucky shushed her and pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head, something that drove the butterflies in her stomach wild.

"It's okay, baby." The nickname just added to the way that her stomach fluttered, and she swallowed hard to try to forget about it. "Hey, how about I do something that'll relax you, yeah?"

"And what would that be, Barnes?" She smirked mischievously and he laughed at her.

"Lay on your stomach." He removed his arm from around her shoulders, and she looked at him with one eyebrow raised, obviously thinking that he was implying something way more forward than what he was actually implying. "Woah, no, no, no. I give good back massages, metal arm and all."

She laughed, throwing her head back into the pillows at the headboard of her bed. "Oh my God, Bucky. I hate you so much." She breathed out, flipping over so that she was laying on her stomach, back exposed to him.

"Can I pull your shirt up, or?" Bucky whispered, running his hands up and down the back of her t-shirt, and she nodded.

His breath hitched in his throat and he found himself struggling to think straight when he lifted the hem of her large shirt, to show that she was only wearing a pair of black panties underneath. She didn't seem to mind, so he didn't mention it, even though his breathing was hindered as he trailed his hands from the small of her back to her shoulders, thumbs rubbing circles as he did so.

She sighed and could've sworn that her eyes rolled back into her head as she relaxed into his touch, one hand cold and the other warm. She understood what he meant when he said that he was good at giving back massages.

"Feel okay?" He asked softly, swallowing hard. She nodded again.

"My God, Bucky, feels fucking amazing." She moaned, and he hated himself when his stomach flipped upon hearing her. "You're so good at that."

He had to stop when she said that, hands still on her shoulders but unmoving, just sitting still. He couldn't think about anything else other than sex when she was moaning like that, something that he wanted to punch himself for. It was such a tender moment, she was scared and so vulnerable, and all that was going through his brain were those thoughts.

"You okay?" She asked, and when he didn't answer she flipped back over, sitting in front of him. He looked like he'd seen a ghost as his tongue darted out to lick over his bottom lip. She reached a hand out, caressing his cheek gently to bring him back to reality. "Bucky?"

"Can I kiss you?" The words were leaving his mouth before he even knew what to do with them, what they meant and how she'd react. As soon as he realised what he'd said, he had his face in his hands, shaking his head. "Shit, sorry."

"No. No, Bucky, don't apologise. Look at me." She wrapped her fingers around his wrist, prying his hands away from his face. "Yes. Of course you can kiss me."

He furrowed his eyebrows, wondering if what she'd just said was real. She was looking into his eyes so intently, staring at the light blue rings around his pupils, realising how pretty they really were now that she was this close. "Kiss me." She whispered, and Bucky took no hesitation in complying to what she was asking of him.

His lips were on hers, and they were so gentle and soft, gliding against hers effortlessly. He pulled her closer to him with a hand on her back, the other cupping her cheek lovingly. His tongue had soon slipped between her lips, earning a soft little whine from her, as his tongue met hers and they worked out how to move them together in harmony.

She eventually pulled back, breathless, and simply grinned at him before laying back and pulling him with her. They resumed their earlier position, her arms wrapped firmly around his waist, his arm around her shoulders, her head on his chest while his hand stroked her hair. "Relaxed?" He laughed and she smiled and nodded.

"I'll get goin', it's late and you look tired, princess." Another nickname, another flourish from the butterflies in the pit of her stomach. Just as Bucky was getting up to leave, she grabbed onto his shirt and pulled him back to her, snuggling back up to his chest.

"Stay. Please."

#bucky barnes #marvel #sebastian stan #bucky barnes x reader #captain america #fanfic #sebastian stan x reader #steve rogers #mcu fic #natasha romanoff #rogue writes #this is: probably really bad because i rushed it because i had so many ideas okay anyway #rogue does marvel

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cosmic-lavender · 3 years

Text

Stability Chapter 4

Otis driftwood x Reader

(I do not own these gifs)

Authors note:~ Quick reminder please be aware of any triggers that may make you uncomfortable when proceeding with the story, which is not limited to hateful terminology (I tried to be as accurate as possible with the dialogue in the movie), mentions of non-con, sexual situations, and violence.~

Saying Baby and Otis enjoyed having hostages would be an understatement, the stress of everything that happened in the last 24 hours took a toll on them, and these poor folks were just the people to help take out some of that stress. “Chinese, Japanese, dirty knees, look at these” Baby sang and danced around the motel room to the forced audience, while her brother sat in the chair across from the group pointing a gun at them. Roy tried to avert his eyes from Baby’s dancing and cower with his wife, but it was slightly difficult with her pushing her tits right in his face.

Otis took this opportunity to further provoke the man. “Hoss, are you staring at my sister thinking bad thoughts?” he asked him, pointing the gun at the four of them. “No,” he replied with a shake in his voice. " Well, why not? are you a faggot?” Otis asked him looking at him slightly sideways "No” said Roy, "Well, what are ya then? I mean you got this hot, piece of ass shaking her shit right in front of you and you're not getting any ideas. What do you call that?" "I'm a married man,” he replied. "Wow!” Baby yelled, waving her hands in the air, “a married man!" "Well, shit” Otis exclaimed “I'm married too! look at us, that's just great! Let's give him a big round of applause, folks for the married man! come on! Oh, man ain't married life just great? You should see my wife Hoss she's got the best part of tits on her whew shit".

Otis looked down at the gun in his hand after that last comment, the hand that had the matching scar that you had on your left hand. He slowly used his thumb to caress the lifted scar tissue. Fuck he missed you, no he ached for you. He trusted you and knew that you could take care of yourself, but the idea that he didn't know where you were and when he was going to find you.. that didn't sit well with him. God, he missed the smell of your hair when he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you close. His large hands gripping your locks as he pressed y/h/c into his nose. The little laughs you would do when he startled you and grabbed you from behind. He took those moments for granted, he knows that now and he regrets it. He thought back to the last night you spent together before you all had to flee. You had helped picked that nights victim earlier that day, you had been at work when a group of young men had entered the gas station, they looked like a group of tourists just passing through,

“Hey waitress why don’t you make yourself useful and go see what’s taking my fucking chicken?” one of them snapped at you while picking up random items and putting them down. “ I’m not your waitress but I can go see what’s taking so long for you,” you replied through gritted teeth, “ thanks sweet cheeks,” he said as he slapped your ass when you walked by. Well needless to say Otis was not happy when he heard that occurred, you had taken down the license plate before they took off and gave it to him as soon as you got in the truck. After heading home and grabbing Rufus, the boys searched the nearest motel for the make and plates of the car. When they found them they kidnapped them and dragged them back to the house. It was a bloodbath, you and the rest of the family took no mercy on the boys, tearing them apart all night.

Eventually, it ended up just being you two in the basement, Baby had long gone upstairs to play dress-up with one of the boys. Otis held the victim that had slapped you on the ass while you stabbed him over and over again, right in the side of the neck then the chest, and later under the armpit, while this occurred Otis screamed words of encouragement to you hyping you up during this assault. By the end you both were a bloody heaving mess, your heart was fluttering like a hummingbird, blood was splattered all over the both of you. You turned to him with your chest heaving heavily, “Otis” you painted still holding the knife, you let it fall to the ground with a clang “ yeah sugar” he walks over to you and grabs your face with his blood-soaked hands lifting your face to look at him, running his finger over your lips, mixing the red lipstick on your lips with the red on his hands, “what do you want from your almighty devil”?.

Seeing the look in his eyes you knew that the devil that lived in him was front and center, this didn’t scare you though, oh no quite the opposite. You closed your eyes for a second, before opening them and looking him straight in his ” you’re the almighty devil, and I want you to make me your fucking whore” with that last sentence you took his blood-soaked thumb into your mouth and sucked on it before letting it out with a pop. He sucked in air sharply before grabbing the back of your neck and shoving you down toward the floor “ on your knees like my good whore”. You happily obliged, kneeling in front of him you took his large member in your blood-soaked hand and inserted it into your mouth. Never breaking eye contact you bobbed your head up and down until you milked every single drop from him. Grabbing your hair he turned your head upward at him, you smiled with your face a mixture of blood and semen, “ such a beautiful good whore”.

“You said you’re married?” This question came from Adam still cowering behind the ladies and Roy on the bed. This question snapped him out of his fond memory and forced him to look toward them. “ Yeah I did, why is that shocking? are you saying that an ugly fuck like me couldn't score a hot piece of ass like my wife?” “no no no that’s not it” “ Then what is it hm? You got something to say to me?, Boy, the next word that comes out of your mouth better be some brilliant fuckin' Mark Twain shit, 'cause it's gettin' chiseled on your tombstone.” “ I just .. does your wife know you do things like this?” asked Roy, raising his voice a little, Gloria gasped and lightly gripped his arm, shushing him.

"Woooo man! getting a little bold there Roy! Such a big brave man all of a sudden, showing off in front of the misses there hm?" Otis said, pointing the gun at Gloria, he got quiet for a second after that, lowering the gun and thinking to himself "All right. okay, mama, front and center, on your feet.". Gloria and Roy looked back at each other confused. "okay, come on, Mama. Take that shit off, let's see what's been holding Hoss's balls at attention all these years" "what … " Gloria asked looking back at Roy then at Otis," What? Take off your clothes, or one of these assholes is going to die. Come on, come on". Gloria stands and shakily takes off her top and pants leaving her in her underwear, "shit, way to go, Roy! she ain't too bad. She got a tight little ass on her!" Baby exclaimed.

Otis grabbed Gloria bringing her to him, why did Roy get to enjoy his wife while he couldn't? Naw fuck that, fuck Roy, fuck the world for taking you away. "Please don't hurt me, please don't hurt me" Gloria begged as Otis pulled her real close in running the gun all up and down her leg and stomach "you like this, don't ya? Say "Yes, I do. " You like that, don't ya? Say "Yes, I do. " Yes, I do. Yes, I do". Gloria tried to look at the ground but Otis pointed the gun at her temple warning her to start compiling "Yes, I... I do".

"You like they don't ya? Hmm huh, mamas" *grunts* "yes yes I do" you moaned as Otis grabbed both your breasts and squeezed them as hard as he could. The messy blow job was just the beginning, after you smiled at him with your sinfully filled mouth he had scooped you up and pressed you up against the nearest wall. You moaned again as he pounded into you and bit your teeth into his shoulder earning a deep pornographic growl from him and causing Otis to thrust into you even harder and faster. "Give me some sugar mama, oh yeah make it sweet" he whispered onto your lips before roughly kissing you, you opened your mouth wider to deepen the kiss and he took this opportunity to shove his tongue inside your mouth. You pulled back to gasp for air after the intrusion on your mouth and before you had a chance to catch your breath, you kissed him again but this time it was soft and gentle, he pushed into you slower now and less violently. He lazily nipped your bottom lip, pulling it back some, he rested his forehead on yours and stared into your eyes as he finished with a few final thrusts.

"Okay. Okay, now. Give me some sugar. Make it sweet. Don't want me to tense up my trigger finger. My finger's getting tense... I want you to say, "You're the almighty devil, and I want you to make me your fucking whore. " Come on, say it. I know it. I know you're feeling it. Say it.". Otis at this point had forced Gloria into a kneeling position after violating her with the pistol. The whole scene was a vile obscene site, he suddenly grabbed her again roughly pulling her up towards him, " fucking … say it" "You're... the... almighty... devil and I want you... to make me your... fucking whore" she splattered barely getting the words out. Otis laughed and shoved her back toward the bed " you fucking make me sick". This site causes Baby to bust out laughing "Woo-hoo! I feel like we're all getting to know each other now". " All right, ladies" her brother exclaims, "I and the boys have an errand to run. We'll be back in a little while. Come on, Hoss, move it. Come on, shit stain! Gotta go! Come on! God damn it!".

#otis driftwood #house of 1000 corpses #three from hell #otis driftwood x reader #otis firefly #thedevilsrejects #the devils rejects

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