#sorry for going mia off the face of the earth

[ohbother2]

Okay….Adam sfw and nsfw headcanons? I cannot believe I have begun to simp after this trashbag DAMN YOU ALEX BRIGHTMAN-

I have an admission... I fucking love Adam pls keep sending Adam requests in I can't get enough of this man

Also, sorry I've been MIA, I've got a lot of deadlines coming up so updates will be more spaced out over the next few weeks :)

I love Adam but he's quite difficult to write, so pls lmk what you guys think! I tried to keep him in character! (This was far longer than planned lol I just love this man)

NSFW - Minors DNI

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Adam x f!reader - General Headcannons

SFW

You'd been in heaven for many decades, possibly even centuries, before you had ever even entered Adam's radar

He was the 'original dick', as he liked to constantly remind everyone within shouting distance, and spent all of his time surrounded by the higher-ups of Heaven, attending meetings, court-hearings, and dealing with training his danger-tits army for the next extermination

It would take a lot to enter his radar, having to work your way into the correct circles, gain the right connections and attend the right events

But once you're in the circumference of society he haunts, you're on his radar immediately

He's a man with fine tastes, look at his previous wives, he has a type ("fucking bombshells" as he would describe them) and as soon as he sees you in his peripheral one afternoon he's zoned in and absolutely entranced

No one has ever said no to him before, so when you do, he's taken aback. Hiding his confusion and deep-rooted offence with a flippant comment "Oh, playing the hard to get game, babe? Lucky for you I fucking love the chase."

Inwardly, he's fucking fuming, why on earth would you reject him? Alas, he's sure he'll win you over eventually... right?

He's arrogant, he's cocky, he's a self-entitled piece of shit, but he's also determined, passionate, and is anything but a quitter

You will not know peace for months after your reject him

He'll storm into your office whenever he feels like it - which is whenever he has enough free time to do so - bugging you relentlessly as you try and finish your work. He never stops asking questions about you: your day, your hobbies, your love life, what're you doing after work tonight? He's free, he could take you somewhere nice, show you a real fun time

When you stop answering he starts bitching about his day to you, about the local gossip, about some Seraphim that pissed him off, about some bitch at the bar, which he could totally take you to, did he mention he was free tonight?

He doesn't just hound you at work, and you often find yourself coming to a screeching halt in the street and abruptly turning the other way when you spot his iconic mask - he's a tall man, his horns poking noticeably above the crowd as he tries to find any excuse to find and talk to you

When he gets really desperate, after months and months of unsuccessful attempts of gaining your attention, he finally turns to Lute with the all too familiar question "You're a woman, right? What do you-"

The advice she gives is not one he is happy to receive, 'stay away and tone it the fuck down', but he listens, ego taking a massive hit as he watches you carry on as normal

Funnily enough, you start to miss the annoying dick, and you begin to look forward to his far less frequent visits, which mainly consist of you both bumping into each other at work and making polite conversation

When he really can't take it anymore, and he happens to hear rumour about another man planning on asking you on a date, he practically breaks down your office door with a bouquet of flowers, thrusting them unhappily into your hands and asking incredibly politely for you to please go on a date with him

You're both surprised when you agree, and he can feel his face heating up beneath his mask as he whoops, calling a "I knew you'd come around babe, I'll pick you up at 8 tonight. Can't wait to see what you wear." over his shoulder as he bustles back out of your office, practically vibrating until he can tell Lute the news

He's 'The Original Man', and once you become his girl there is nothing he wouldn't do for you - he's constantly swinging by your office and pulling away the less important paperwork, commenting that he can get one of his workers to do it and freeing up time for you both to hang out; he's constantly flying through your balcony with bags of some new takeaway and chatting about this amazing new food place he found as he drops the heavy bags on your counter; someone causing you trouble? If he can't personally deal with it due to some 'relationship' he has to upkeep, he's sure to inform Lute who will have the situation handled before sunset that same day

Basically, he has authority in Heaven, and he's going to use that to make your life as easy as possible

Having a bad day? He can fix that. Oh, not in the mood for sex? Well, he's an amazing cuddle buddy, and he has the softest wings, let him just grab some snacks from the kitchen and then get ready for a night on the sofa wrapped in his strong arms and soft wings

His wings are insanely soft, and big, and despite his best efforts, no matter how long you've both been dating, they will flutter if he hasn't seen you in an extended amount of time, or if you're wearing something particular nice - he can't control it and it thoroughly ruins his bad-boy persona

You're the only other person beside Lute who he feels comfortable with letting preen his wings, and after you start officially dating he only comes to you with the issue, batting his eyelashes and pleading with you to 'take care of him'. You do, and he always breaks his promise not to 'make it weird' until you give him a firm smack on the back of his head - he's fallen asleep more times than you can count with your hands in his wings

He returns the favour, of course, and he sticks to his word like a gentleman, hands remaining firmly against your wings and not daring to wander. He's not a saint, however, and he will whisper less-than-holy things in your ear as he works - he'll stop if you don't play along, and finds himself enjoying the innocent intimacy of it. If you do play along? Oh, boy, his hands don't stay on your wings for long

He uses his wings a lot in his body language, and in your initial stages of courting he'll constantly puff them out to make him seem bigger, trying to impress you with his sheer size - embarrassingly for you, it works

PDA is not approved of in heaven, so he has to maintain his distance from you in public but that is a completely different matter in private

He will take every opportunity to touch you, innocently, whether that be a had on your jaw to bring your attention back to him or to guide your gaze wherever he wants you to look, a hand on your bicep to pull you this way and that, a large hand between your shoulder blades if you're being too slow

In public, completely subconsciously, whichever wing is closest to you will outstretch, barely noticeable to the majority of people, corralling you in closer to his side, and protecting you from whatever might happen - there's no danger in heaven, but still, he likes to know you're safe, and his wings reflect that desire

In private, he's constantly got a hand on you, oftentimes both, on your arms, your shoulders, your waist, the small of your back, your thighs, fucking anywhere - he likes having you on his chest on the sofa, and he finds it funny when he tries to do the same and crushes the air from your lungs

He loves when you cook and he can just stand behind you with his chin propped on your head or shoulder and his arms around your waist. You constantly have to tell him off for whispering foul things in your ear, but he quickly shuts up when you threaten to send him away, his grip tightening against you as he pouts playfully and watches silently

He will actively stretch out his wing when it's cold or windy or rainy, shielding you from the elements with his large wings and loving the excuse to pull you close. "What're they gonna say babe? I'm just keeping you dry."

The biggest difficulty in your domestic lives is the housework, he's an old fashioned man and he's never really had to do housework before. He's gotten better throughout your relationship, but he still absolutely hates washing dishes, but he'll happily sit in the kitchen and keep you company and talk mindlessly as he watches you work. He always thanks you with a kiss

If you ever make him do it, expect to be sat on the counter right next to him and no you cannot leave until he's done and yes you will listen to him complain the entire time and yes he will always slap your ass with a wet hand as payback, cackling as you yell half-heartedly

Deep down, incredibly deep, oceanic levels of deep, past the many many levels of crude jokes and brash humour, of over-compensating confidence and attempted witty one-liners, past the smirk and the puffed chest and the domineering presence, is a man who is cripplingly doubtful and insecure - two of his wives have left him for the same man, and he's absolutely terrified (but would rather burn in the fiery pits of hell than ever admit it) that it's going to happen again

He can seem rude and brash and uncaring, but he really is trying his best, and he's desperate to prove to you, in his own way, how much he really cares (He's scared to admit even to himself how much losing you would crush him)

Because of this, no event is ever half-assed - it's your birthday? He's got the biggest cake he can find and he's made some of his exterminators set up a surprise birthday party for you. It's your anniversary? He's pretending he's forgotten until the morning of and suddenly you've got a reservation at one of the nicest and most in-demand places in all of Heaven

"Come on, sugar," He'd reprimand you mockingly, shit-eating grin on his face at your excitement "you really thought I'd forget my special girl?"

He can doubt himself sometimes, worrying about your feelings for him, but he hides his insecurities whenever you catch him in deep-thought with some lame sex-joke

He doesn't ever want to talk about his insecurities, and he'll never outright tell you what he fears more than anything, but you pick up on it after enough time together

You don't pry, but you do card your hands through his hair when you see his eyes go particularly glossy one afternoon, pressing a kiss to his temple and scratching at his scalp, making your way slowly to his wings and back and taking your sweet time. He closes his eyes and listens to you ramble about your day, which eventually turns into you rambling about him, how handsome he is, how hard he works, and how much you love him and how you don't know what you'd do without him

He doesn't realise it, but you say just the rights things he needs for him to regain that pep in his step and for his cocky words to have more meaning behind them

NSFW

He's the Original Dick, and you'd hope he had the goods to back up the talk with the amount of bragging he does

He does; he does have the goods, and some would say he's being humble because what the fuck

He's the oldest human in history - he's seen it all, done it all twice, and he's more than willing to share some of his tricks with you

He's too proud and self-centred to ever let you have complete control, but when he's particularly lazy he'll let you go on top (as rare as this occasion is) but he'll still guide you as best as he can, lifting you easily with his strong arms and sweet-talking you with his sharp tongue

The first time you ever see him without his god-awful mask is during an intimate moment - you're first intimate moment, where you downright refused to continue if he didn't take the cursed thing off his face

Again, he's insecure, and it takes a lot of reassurance and just the right amount of kisses on his jaw and neck for him to be convinced that taking his mask off was worth it

He lets you look at him for several moments, and then he's had enough and he took his mask off for a fucking reason and he's pulling you into his lap and kissing you properly for the fist time

You can compliment him later, he has other things on his mind right now, the main one being fucking you until you can't even conjure a coherent thought

After that encounter he slowly takes his mask off in private with you more and more, learning to appreciate how nice it was to be able to kiss your temple and actually feel you against his lips, as well as how nice it was to feel your lips against his cheek

Still keeps the mask on sometimes, especially when you ask so nicely

He absolutely loves receiving head, resting back in his office chair or against the back of the sofa and letting you get to work, grunts and groans falling from his lips as his hands grip your hair tightly and guide you exactly how he wants you

He will give head as well, he's not selfish by any means, but he much prefers kissing you as you fall apart beneath him - for him, he'd much rather swallow your screams and mutter dirty things in your ear as he brings you to release

Be careful with his wings, especially when he lets you preen them - gentle touches can easily be misinterpreted as passionate caresses and before you know it you're pinned on your back with a red-faced and disheveled looking Adam hovering above you, muttering about how you're a "fucking tease" and if "you wanted it so bad all you had to do was ask, sugar. I'll never leave you wanting."

He knows the power of wings, and his heavy touches against your own when he needs to "Just sliding past babe, what's that fucking look for? Can't a man work?" are no accident. He loves getting you all wound up. He takes it as a personal challenge to do it in public, and his shit-eating grin remains the entire day before he's pressing you against the door of his office or your plush bed and muttering about how fucking needy you are.

He doesn't take being teased well, and he'll glare at you the entire time until he can do something about it - he'll have even less patience than usual, especially for people who aren't you, and often has to do damage-control after he's regained his bearings a few hours later

He's a big man, and he uses that to his full advantage, man-handling you with ease, positioning you exactly where he wants you, pinning both of your wrists easily with only one of his large hands, pushing your legs apart like butter

He can lift you easily, and he'll hold you against the wall, or countertop, or wherever the fuck you guys are, and he'll keep you there until he's done

Lute has walked in on you both far too many times, and she always hurtles back out of the door cursing at you both angrily

He likes pinning you beneath him, spreading his wings over your forms and completely shrouding you with his form - you're fucking his, and no one else will take that from him

He fucking loves dirty talk, and it's a challenge to get him to shut up - he'll carry on talking at you long after you're able to respond, and he'll just start talking about that instead: "Aw, look at you, can't even fucking say my name you're so fucking dumb for this c-"

As said before, he's insecure based on the way he lost his two previous wives and the reflects into the bedroom

If you do degrade him, he'll just challenge you, telling you you've obviously not learnt your fucking lesson and picking up the pace, desperate to prove he's the exact opposite of whatever had just spilled from your mouth - you'll pay for trying to goad him on, he won't relent until you're a babbling shaking mess, stuttering out apologies and taking back everything you had just dared to say to him

Any praise you offer him he absolutely laps up. Call him handsome, tell him your his, tell him there's no one else in the world who would ever compared to him, how good he's fucking you - he'll get so wrapped up in the praise he'll even stop talking, completely focussed on his task of making you feel good, making sure you know there's no one else who could give you what he does

Dig your hands into his wings and he becomes a groaning mess, and it'll only be a few seconds of you muttering those sweet praises in his ears and your nails digging into his wings before he's collapsing on top of you and panting raggedly, still trying to mutter out curses and praises through his gruff gasping

When he really loses control his wings will flap of their own accord, and you've had to completely clear your side tables because he kept accidentally smashing everything that was on them

He likes to rest afterwards, and he usually tries to encourage you into going another round.

He'll tug you into his sweaty side, pulling you half onto his chest as he breathes deeply, immediately asking if you enjoyed it, and when you agree, he'll always mutter something along the lines of "Of course you fucking did, it's me."

#hazbin hotel #Hazbin Hotel adam #Hazbin Hotel #Hazbin Hotel x reader #Hazbin Hotel Adam #Hazbin Hotel Adam x reader #Adam x reader #lute #Hazbin Hotel lute #Hazbin Hotel smut #Adam smut #Hazbin Hotel Adam smut #Hazbin Hotel x reader smut #smut

[book-place]

American Pie

Warnings: Harry Potter series spoilers, character death, violence, cursing, let me know if I missed any :)

Pairings: Harry Potter x aunt reader

Request: Hello I was wondering if you could do a part 2 of the potter twins . Like where y/n gets hold of Harry and sends him off and stuff and seeing him grow up and he can like rely on you ? And like your a cool aunt and everyone loves you ? You don’t have to but sorry for bothering you

Request by: @bellboy2107

*not my gif*

Summary: Since your brother was now gone, Harry was the only person that mattered to you

A/N: Welcome to book place’s one year event!!; This is a part 2 for Potter Twins

Inspired by: American Pie by Don McLean

Please don’t plagiarize my work, you may reblog if you like but I’m asking that you don’t steal my hard work

Long long time ago, I can still remember how that music used to make me smile

Slowly, your eyes opened and tried to adjust to the light streaming through the windows directly at you, as if on purpose to wake you up.

Stifling a groan, you sat upright and dropped your head into your hands, not wanting to face the day. Not another one. You didn’t know how much longer you could do it without your brother by your side. And it had only been a month.

The singular thought keeping you going was the thought that one day you would be able to get Harry back, your last link to James and your only surviving family member.

It had been a struggle tracking him down, it was as if he had disappeared off the face of the earth. But you weren’t yet ready to give up.

You had meant it, you would find the boy. Even if it was the last thing you ever did.

And I knew if I had my chance, that I could make those people dance

Picking up the Daily Prophet, you shoveled a spoonful of eggs into your mouth and began reading.

The news had long since slowed down, and tried to move on from the war by talking about it. As if that would erase it from everyone else’s memory. As if it never happened.

It was quite boring, the new players for a quidditch team, some Ministry of Magic mishap with the muggle thing called hand sanitizer mixed with a hair growing potion.

But then you got to the last page.

The reporters finally got a full list of everybody that passed on during the war. Names on random spots of the page jumped at your eyes in sharp, dangerous pangs.

James Potter. Lily Potter. Marlene McKinnon. Fabian Prewett. Gideon Prewett-

You harshly pushed away from the table, not paying any mind to the high pitched scraping sound it made against the floor, and your breathing picked up.

You couldn’t do this, you couldn’t be here, not without them. Not without them. Not without them. Not without-

Harry.

You needed to find Harry. He was the only thing that would keep you grounded. And if you didn’t find him soon, you don’t know what you would do. What you would live to regret.

And maybe they'd be happy for a while

After finishing buttoning up your cloak, you let out a sigh, slowly letting your eyes drift to the dresser in the corner of the room, the one that held a picture on its surface.

In it, you were jumping on James’s back making funny faces, stuck in a timeless loop of happiness.

What the camera hadn’t picked up on was Mia and Fleamonts smiling faces behind the flash, capturing the moment for all of eternity.

It was one of the only photos you could stomach to keep on display.

But February made me shiver

Finally. You had finally done it.

Frozen, you stood before the plain brown door with unseeing eyes and a mile-a-minute mind.

Harry James Potter was sitting just beyond this door.

You had finally been able to track him down with mountains of spells and potions that had taken months to go through. You had a first gone to Dumbledore, hoping he would give you any indication as to where your nephew was, but he offered you nothing, claiming it was safer that way. You had proceeded to storm out of the room, slamming the door harsh enough to shake the walls behind you.

The wind rushed against your skin like a swarm of needles, and you shuddered a little, officially breaking out of your thoughts and you raised your fist to knock on the door.

With every paper I'd deliver

You couldn’t believe your own eyes, not as you stared down at one year old Harry in your arms, staring up at you with wide eyes and an even wider, gummy smile.

You hadn’t wasted another second after standing on the Dursleys doorstep to storm in wand ablaze and demand you take your nephew.

The cowards didn’t even put up a fight as they let you take him, but you wouldn’t complain- you were able to get in and out without any trouble.

Bad news on the doorstep, I couldn't take one more step

“Auny Y/n! Auny Y/n!” Young Harry babbled, making grabby motions with his chubby hands up at you from his crib.

You smiled softly, reaching your arm out and allowing his tiny fingers to wrap around your much larger ones.

The second a knock sounded through your home, your entire body stiffened and your hand automatically went to the wand you kept in your pocket at all times.

Turning on your heel, you left your giggling nephew behind as you slowly crept towards the front door, unsure of what was awaiting you on the other end.

Tentatively, you peered through the small window near the door and let out a sigh of relief, stance automatically relaxing as you opened it to reveal the headmaster of Hogwarts. Though you were still angry with him for not revealing Harry’s location, at least it was him and not anyone else.

“What do you want, Albus?” You asked, long since having stopped using teacher-student formalities.

He looked up at you with sad eyes, “I-“

Harry let out a particularly loud babble behind you, and your body once again stiffened.

What if he tried to take Harry away from you? What if you couldn’t stop him? What if-

“First of all,” His tone softened, “How is young Harry doing?”

You eyed the man skeptically, “He’s doing fine,”

He chuckled lightly, “I assure you, I’m not here to take him away, Miss. Potter.” His words made you calm down once more, “But I am afraid I come bearing bad news.”

It was like someone was playing with an on and off switch with your emotions, allowing you to think everything was okay before flipping the switch teasingly.

“I understand that you haven’t always been the closest with Sirius Black,”

Your eyebrows furrowed, “No,” You admitted, “Not like James is-was, but he’s still my friend.” You cleared your throat slightly at the small error you made.

“I’m afraid Mr. Black has been sent to Azkaban for the murder of Peter Pettigrew.”

You didn’t know if it was possible to have your heart torn into any more pieces than it already had been. But if it was possible, then that’s exactly what happened to you in that moment.

Though you and Sirius hadn’t in fact been very close, you had been there for him when he moved into your house that one summer after things got really bad with his parents. The two of you could always joke around in a class together and be comfortable around each other.

You never could have pictured him killing one of his best friends- even though you barely knew the other boy. From what you saw though, Peter was a sweet and gentle kid that would do anything for his friends. Just like how Sirius used to bed

“I shall leave you alone once more,” Albus declared softly, “And Miss. Potter?” He called after a silent moment. “I truly am sorry for everything.”

You slammed the door in his face.

I can’t remember if I cried, when I read about his widowed bride

For the first time in weeks, you picked up the Daily Prophet after being able to put Harry down for his first nap in a while, that boy was as stubborn as his father.

You casually flipped through the pages, skimming over the sections that went on about quidditch matches finally starting up again after the war. What you hadn’t expected to see, was the grinning faces of your brother and sister in law on the last page.

Your breath caught in your throat and your eyes went wide when you realized that it was a tribute to the two of them from some of their friends from their time in Hogwarts. Some kids that knew them well enough to be friendly, but not enough to have any right to print a long section in the paper about how impactful their lives were.

It felt as though your lungs were closing in on themselves as you stared down with watered eyes at the words. You thought you had gotten over it. You thought you would be able to move on.

But seeing the page-long writing about them pushed you over the edge and you dropped the paper as you collapsed to the ground with a sob.

You reached a hand up to cover your mouth so you wouldn’t wake Harry, who was sleeping soundly in the other room over.

Apparently you weren’t quiet enough though, because Harry’s cries soon joined yours, alerting you of his newly awoken form.

Quickly, you reached up and harshly wiped your tears away. You wouldn’t let your own grief get in the way of taking care of Harry. You were going to do everything in your power to look after the boy to the best of your ability.

“Hey, Harry,” You smiled softly as you entered the room, bending down and scooping him into your arms, “It’s alright, it’s alright. I’m here now.”

But something touched me deep inside, the day the music died

“Auntie! Auntie!” Harry cheered, tripping over his own feet as he stumbled into the room, “Look! Look!”

You raised your head with an amused twinkle in your eyes as you moved your gaze to meet his, “What is it?”

Grinning wildly, he took a large eveleope from behind his back and presented it to you, “It’s my Hogwarts acceptance letter!”

Pride and happiness swelled and whirrled around in your chest and you broke out into a grin that was similar to his, “Oh, good job, Harry!” You cried, wrapping your nephew into a tight hug that he excitedly returned.

“Merlin, I can’t believe I’m going to Hogwarts,” Harry rambled, “I mean, after all the stories you’ve told I feel like I’ve already been there, but it’s still-“

“Harry,” You cut him off with a small laugh, pulling away and putting your hands on his shoulders, “Do you know what this means?”

He shook his head, messy hair that was much like James’s flopping back and forth, “What?” There was curiosity in his voice.

Your grin widened, “It means that we need to take a trip to Diagon Alley!”

The boy let out a cheer, jumping up and down on the balls of his feet.

With that, the two of you took the floo network and began shopping around for any and everything that he could possibly need during his year, all while memories of the past tickled the back of your mind. Of the summers before every September that you and your family would spend roaming these very streets.

As the two of you sat down at a small table with some ice cream, you couldn’t help the small, sad smile you sent Harry’s way.

“Wha’?” He asked through a mouthful of the food.

You shook your head softly, “This just reminds me of times with your father.” You admitted in a small whisper.

He smiled understandably and reached over to squeeze your hand, “It’s alright, Aunt Y/n.” He comforted, “Because you have me now.”

You gave him a teary smile and patted his hand appriciantly, “Thank you, Harry.” You reached over with your other hand and ran it through his messy locks, “I know I do.”

So bye-bye, Miss American Pie

“Your grandmother always used to fuss over me and your father like this,” You mumbled, dusting imaginary lint off of Harry’s shirt, “I can't believe I’m turning into my mother.”

The boy smiled, “Getting more like an old lady every day.” He teased.

You scowled, reached up and lightly slapped him upside the head, “Watch it,” You mockingly scolded, “Or else I’ll make you live in the closet under the stairs when you get home.”

His grin widened and he reached over and wrapped his arms around your waist, “I’ll see you at Christmas.” He mumbled into your shirt.

Harshly, you blinked away tears that had begun to fill your eyes, not wanting to cry in front of your nephew over something as simple as him leaving to go to Hogwarts.

“I shouldn’t be crying, right?” You mumbled into his ear.

He pulled away with a laugh and shrugged, “I don’t mind.”

You smiled at him through your blurry vision and reached up to cup his cheek, “I want you to write all the time. Don’t hesitate to come to me if you need anything. I mean it, Harry.”

“I will.” He promised, hugging you quickly again so you could kiss the top of his head before standing back and picking up his bag, “I better go before the express leaves without me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” You cleared your throat, “Good idea.”

“I love you, Auntie!” He called before disappearing into the crowd.

“Love you too,” You whispered to the empty place he had once been standing in.

“Oh, darling.” The familiar voice of none other than Molly Weasley cooed, making her way over to where you stood and wrapping a comforting arm around your shoulder, “First year is always hard.”

You let out a watery chuckle, “I don’t know how you’ve done this so many times.” You admitted.

“It’s still hard,” She confessed, “But it started to get a bit easier over time.” She turned her head to smile at you, “I’m just glad that Ron and Harry are together.”

You hummed in agreement, glad that he was with the childhood friends that he met in nursery school, causing you and the rest of the family to grow close as well over the years. Well, after they got over the fact that he was The Harry Potter, that is.

“I’m gonna miss him,” You mumbled.

“I know, but he’s going to do so well at Hogwarts. You’re going to be so proud of him.” The woman reassured you.

You smiled at her, “Both of them are gonna make us really proud.” Bringing her son into this as well.

Molly shook her head helplessly, “It’s either that or we will be getting a letter for their expulsion in a week.”

“Fred and George made it this far.” You teased with a small snigger.

She threw her head back with a laugh, “Indeed they did.”

Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry

You smiled widely at the letter that sat in your hands, reading and rereading everything that Harry had to tell you about his first week at school.

About the new friends he made, the adventures he already had in Gryffindor house, and even some of the enemies he made. Though, you couldn’t fault him for hating any son of Lucius Malfoy.

What you had said to Molly was true, you were going to miss Harry. But Hogwarts would be good for him. He would be able to make memories just like you had. The good and the bad.

Not only that, but he wouldn’t have a war to worry about. He would be able to enjoy being a kid within the walls.

Them good old boys were drinking whiskey and rye

“Happy Christmas!” You and Harry cheered in sync the moment you stepped through the doors of the Burrow, piles of presents in your arms.

“Oh, Happy Christmas!” Molly cried happily, coming around the corner and beginning to help you with everything, “Boys!” She snapped, “Come help the Potters with their things!” Before smiling kindly at the two of you once more, emitting laughs from your lips.

“Thank you, Ron.” You breathed out once he took a particularly heavy wrapped box before turning and nodding in greeting to Arthur, “Happy Christmas.”

“Happy Christmas, yourself.” The man chirped back while grinning and pulling Harry into a quick side hug before ushering the two of you into the living room where the rest of the Weasley children sat.

Quickly, they all scrambled up at the sight of the two of you and you all exchanged hugs and joyful greetings.

“Can we please do the presents now, mum?” Ginny whined, “We’ve been waiting all morning!”

Her mother looked down at her sternly, but you were quick to wrap an arm around Mollys shoulder and smile at her, “Come on, Mol, it’s Christmas!”

“Yeah! Listen to Aunt Y/n!” Fred piped up, George nodding along with his twin.

“Oh, alright,” Even Molly couldn’t hide the smile that sat upon her features as she said it though, “Pass them out, all of you.”

You looked up in surprise and slightly wide eyes when Ron shyly handed you a gift, “This is for you,” He mumbled.

“O-oh, thank you, Ron.” You said genuinely, not having expected anything at all.

As soon as you opened it, tears began to fill your eyes when you saw the contents. It was a sweater with your first initial sewn into it.

“I know I normally just do it for the kids,” Molly spoke, “But I figured you could use one too.”

You bit down on your lip slightly, running a hand gently down the soft fabric. It reminded you of when your own mother used to knit, “Thank you, Mol.” You whispered, thankful that the children were too preoccupied with their own gifts to realize what was going on.

“Oh, come now. Cheer up,” She rubbed your back comfortingly, “It’s Christmas.”

You smiled over at her, leaning your head against her shoulder, “Thank you.” You repeated.

Singing, "This'll be the day that I die"

“What the bloody hell happened?” You demanded as soon as you slammed open the doors to the Hospital Wing and stormed into the room with a cloud of rage sitting over your head.

“Ah, Miss. Potter. So nice of you to join us.” Dumbledore spoke, standing up from beside your nephew's bed, where he lay unconscious. The man spoke in such a way as if you had simply run into each other at the grocery store.

“Cut the bullshit, Albus.” You snapped with a deadly glare set on your face, “Your letter only told me that Harry was unconscious. You didn’t tell me a single thing about how he ended up unconscious.”

He sighed, cutting right to the chase, “I am afraid that Voldemort has returned.”

You froze in your steps, heart hammering mercilessly against your rib cage, “What did you just say?” As if he would change his words by your tone alone.

“This might be a conversation best had while sitting down-“ He gestured to some visitor chairs.

“I much prefer to stand.” You seethed, unable to slow your racing thoughts.

So the headmaster explained.

Voldemort. The man who slaughtered everyone you loved in the name of his pathetic war- and almost succeeded with taking Harry- was back and he went after your nephew again to try and seek revenge.

“I thought Hogwarts was safe.” It wasn’t hard to miss the way you had shifted your body so that you were standing in front of Harry’s bed, as if you alone could create a wall of protection around the boy, “This is supposed to be a place that will protect him.”

“Indeed,” Was the only answer you were offered.

You scoffed, “I hope you know that he will not be returning next year after all this.”

“Are you sure that is wise?” The older man asked with a single raised eyebrow, “It is your choice Miss. Potter, but don’t you think that it’s better for Harry to be surrounded by some of the finest witches and wizard staff who will now keep a closer eye on him?”

That made you hesitate.

“You alone can’t protect the boy from the world.” He continued.

Slowly, you turned your head to stare down at Harry, who’s steady rise and fall of his chest was the only thing indicating that he was still alive.

This will be the day that I die

“I don’t like this,” You mumbled, crossing your arms over yourself as your eyes flitted around the train station.

He sighed, “I know, Aunt Y/n, but I think Dumbledore was right, Hogwarts is the safest place for me to be.”

Finally, you met his eyes and sighed, dropping your arms to the side, “I know,” You admitted, “But that still doesn’t mean that I have to like it.”

Harry gave you his best attempt at a smile, “I know.”

“Here,” You reached forward and plucked his glasses off his face before rubbing them softly against your shirt and placing them back on the bridge of his nose once you deemed them clean enough, “Remember what I said?”

“Notify you the minute anything seems off.” He repeated the words you had drilled into his head over and over again over summer break.

“Right,” You breathed out, “Now, are you sure you still want to go-“

“Yes.” He smiled a little bit, “I’ll be fine. I have Ron and Hermione.”

You huffed a bit, “I know that, but-“

“Auntie.” He spoke sternly, “You don’t need to worry, it’ll be fine.”

You were silent for a moment, before you put your hands up in surrender, “Okay, okay, alright.”

“I’ll be fine.”

Did you write the Book of Love?

“This is the second time,” You ranted angrily, pacing up and down Dumbledore's office, “This is the second time in two years that Harry was put into immediate danger in this school.”

Albus sighed, eyes following you back and forth, “I assure you, it was never my intention to put him in any harms way-“

“I never said it was.” You rounded on him, “But it still seemed to happen under your watch.”

He pursed his lips together, “That is very true.”

You reached up and ran a hand through your hair in frustration, “What am I supposed to do now? You claim that Hogwarts is still the safest place for him, but he was attacked in this building twice.”

“I assure you, Miss. Potter, necessary precautions will be taken to ensure the safety of him and all of the other children.”

You glared at him, “I was told something like that last time. But then Harry was still attacked by a basilisk.”

It was silent for a moment before he spoke up again, “I didn’t tell you this before because I didn’t want to further worry you nor Harry, but there is a possibility that Voldemort is still out there.”

You sucked in a sharp breath at his words, “But you said after last year-“

“I know what I said,” He agreed, “But there is a large chance that I was wrong.”

Your eyes snapped over to meet his, “Having him here is better than having him outside of here if he decides to come for him again.” You whispered quietly.

Albus nodded, “My thoughts exactly.”

Slowly, you nodded and turned to leave, but paused with your hand on the doorknob, “Let’s not tell Harry yet. Just in case it’s not true.”

“You have my word.”

With that, you exited the office, softly shutting the door behind you.

And do you have faith in God above?

“Remus,” You froze, breathing out the name almost as if you didn’t believe that you were saying it.

“Y/n,” He was in a similar state to yours, staring at you with wide eyes, neither one of you paying any mind to the commotion of the platform going on around you.

The two of you hadn’t talked since that day you shoved him away while grieving for James. Sure, he tried to reach out from time to time, but ultimately decided that space was what you had needed the best.

You swallowed, “What- what are you doing here.”

“I’m going to be the new defense against the dark arts professor.” He informed you while clearing his throat, “It’s good to see you.” He added after a moment.

You shook away your shock and decided upon smiling kindly at the man, “You too, Remus, you too.”

“Is…” He trailed off, seeming to try and find the right words.

“Harry just got onto the train with some friends.” You informed him, knowing exactly what he was going to ask.

“Third year?” You nodded your head and he let a small breath loose, “It feels like we were just his age.”

Your smile turned sad, “We might as well have been.”

The train whistled and both of you turned to look at it.

“I should go.” He spoke, giving you one of his famously kind smiles.

Your face turned serious, “Listen, Remus. I know that I’m in no place to be asking for favors, but-“

“Of course I’ll watch over Harry.” He said softly, “And not just for James. For you too.” He looked you in the eyes to show his sincerity.

“Thank you.”

He shook his head, beginning to walk backwards towards the train, “There’s no need to thank me.”

It felt like a weight had been lifted off your chest because even though you hadn’t spoken to the man in years, you knew that he was one of the only people alive that you would trust with not just yours, but Harry’s life as well.

If the Bible tells you so

You gripped the Daily Prophet tightly, eyes scanning over the same line again and again. The one that read that Sirius Black had escaped Azkaban.

The very man that had not only betrayed Lily and James, but had also killed Peter right afterwards. And now he was loose and running amok in Merlin knows where.

As long as he stayed far away from Harry, you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. Even after all he did. It was best not to dwell on the man who had taken everything from you, it would only consume your entire being.

Do you believe in rock 'n' roll?

You crept up the creaking stairs of the Shrieking Shack after receiving a vague letter from Remus that you had no reason not to wholeheartedly believe.

He would never under any circumstances lie about Sirius Black not being the traitor that you all thought him to be. That Peter was really it and he was still alive. You knew you could believe it because James and Lily’s deaths are nothing to joke about, and Remus more than anyone knew that. So that’s why you had snuck into Hogwarts and were meeting him here.

As soon as you reached the top of the stairs, your eyes locked onto Harry, Ron, and Hermione, all cowering in a corner of a top room and you rushed to their sides. Immediately, you reached out to cup Harry and Ron’s cheeks as your eyes scanned over Hermione for any sign of injury.

“Are you guys alright?” You asked worriedly.

Without a word your nephew guestered shakily to a figure behind you, and you whipped around to face what he was so scared of.

Remus standing beside none other than Sirius Black.

Though he was dirty and had changed so, so much from the last time you had seen one another, you didn’t hesitate to spring forward and wrap your arms around his neck, bringing him in for a hug.

True, you had never been as close to him as your brother had. But you still spent most of your summers with him and he had once been someone you could consider a friend. And you didn’t have many of those now adays.

“What are you doing?” Ron shrieked in horror before either you or the man could get a word in to one another after pulling away, “He’s trying to kill us.”

“No, he is not, Mr. Weasley.” Remus explained patiently, “But I am afraid that there is another being in this room that is.”

“A-Auntie?” Harry asked shakily, “What’s going on?”

Before you could respond, a rat you hadn’t even noticed leapt forward and transformed into a man midair. A man you knew to be Peter Pettigrew.

The sight of him alone made you see red. Every bit of pain, grief, and despair that you had felt within the last thirteen years all coming to crash down on you at once because it was all due to him. He was the reason James was dead.

Ignoring Sirius’s hand that flew out to stop you, you stormed over and grabbed Peters collar with so much power that the large man was left stumbling, and pulled out your wand, jabbing it painfully into his neck.

“You dirty little rat.” You seethed, “How dare you,” You took a deep breath and repeated the question, shouting it at the top of your lungs this time. You missed the way the three children flinched at the suddenness of it.

You sensed the two men coming to stand at your sides.

“I’m going to kill you for what you did.” There was no threat behind your words, it was only a clear statement.

Gently, Remus guided your hand down, “He’ll pay for what he did.” He whispered the promise in your ear, “By sending him to Azkaban.”

You didn’t reply, just pushed your wand into his neck harder, making him whimper pathetically.

“Harry doesn’t need you going to prison too.” Sirius muttered from beside you, and those words finally made you pause.

You glanced over to where he stood, being held back from springing forward to help you by his friends, and you finally, reluctantly released your death grip on Peter.

As soon as you let go though, you reeled your fist back and sent it flying forward until you heard a satisfying crunch and a scream of pain from the traitor.

Without a look back, you allowed Remus and Sirius to grab either arm and begin to drag the struggling man out and you went to the trio that was still in the corner.

“Are you all alright?” You repeated your earlier question.

“Was that him? The man that turned my parents in?” Were Harry’s only words.

Ron and Hermione silently exchanged glances before slipping out of the room to give the two of you some space.

Biting down on your lip, you nodded your head and immediately wrapped your arms around the boys shaking form, “Yeah, yeah it was.”

“Did you almost kill him?” His words were slightly muffled through where he was resting his head against your shirt.

“Yes,” You didn’t even try to lie to him, “And I would have if I wasn’t reminded that you still needed me out here, not needing me to be thrown into Azkaban.”

He looked up at you with tear filled eyes, “But that’s where he’s going?”

You sighed and nodded, “Yeah, yeah. That’s where he’s going.”

Can music save your mortal soul?

“I miss James.” Sirius spoke up after a comfortable silence had been sitting over the two of you for many moments.

You hummed, glancing at the man from the corner of your eye, “Yeah, I do too.” You said quietly.

You both sat a little bit away from the group, staring up at Hogwarts, so beautiful and lit up at night.

Neither of you spoke for another minute before you blurted out, “I’m sorry.”

He turned to you with furrowed eyebrows, “What for?”

“I didn’t at first…” You spoke hesitantly, “But I guess over time I began to believe that you really had betrayed them.” You shook your head roughly with a scoff, “There was just not other explanation and I couldn’t let myself live like that anymore. Going it over again and again in my head without end to try and figure out what really happened-“

“Hey,” He cut you off by placing a hand on your shoulder, “It’s alright, Y/n. I get it, I promise you, I do.”

“It’s still not fair to you.” You whispered.

“Maybe not,” He agreed, “But at least now we both can rest knowing that we put away the man that really betrayed them.”

And can you teach me how to dance real slow?

You let curiosity take over and you blindly let your feet begin to walk by themselves towards the kitchen, where music appeared to be floating from.

Pausing at the entrance, you took in the sight before you. Harry was gently bobbing his head up and down to the music that played out of an old music player that sat on the counter as he made cookies a few feet away.

“This was your father’s favorite song,” You made your presence known with a small voice.

He startled, eyes whipping up to you frantically before relaxing when he realized it was just you, “Really?” He asked.

You nodded, “He would drive me and mum crazy by blasting it in his room with Sirius. They would sing at the top of their lungs to see who would get yelled at first between the two of them. It was always James though.” A fond smile played at the ends of your lips.

“Sirius didn’t tell me he liked this song.” He said, resuming his previous activities.

“Eh,” You waved it off, “There’s too many memories we have with your father to keep them all straight.”

He laughed lightly at that, “Wanna help with the cookies?”

You smiled and went to stand beside him, listening to your brother’s favorite song.

Well I know that you're in love with him

“Aunt Y/n?” Harry called hesitantly, shuffling into your room.

“What’s up?” You asked, looking up from your book with a raised eyebrow.

The boy's cheeks turned red and he began stuttering, “U-uh, how- how do I tell a girl that- that I l-like her?” He looked like he was about to die from embarrassment.

Immediately, you snapped your book shut and patted the empty spot on your bed next to you for him to sit down, which he did.

“Who is it?” You asked automatically, a small smirk pulling at the ends of your lips.

Quickly, he shot out of his seat, “You know what, this was a bad idea-“

“Hey, hey, no.” You stopped smirking, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m just excited, is all. Tell me about her.”

“Her- her name is Cho,” He mumbled, eyes averted to where he was fiddling with his fingers, “And I really like her but I don’t know what to do.”

You smiled softly, wrapping your arm around the boys shoulder and pulling him down onto the bed beside you, “Just tell her how you feel.” You told him, “That’s the best thing you can do. No big gestures or confusing signals, just the honest truth.”

“What if she doesn’t like me back?” He looked up at you as he softly spoke the question.

You squeezed his shoulders lightly, “Then she’s an idiot.” You reassured him.

He laid there for a moment, taking in your words before nodding along slightly, “Thank you,” He mumbled.

You playfully poked his side, “Look at my little boy growing up.” You teased.

Harry scoffed a bit, cheeks tinting red again as he tried to push your hands away, “Shut up.” He protested weakly.

“Hey,” You pressed a gentle kiss on his forehead, “Let me know how it goes. Okay, bud?”

He nodded, standing up and quickly scurrying out of the room to be saved from any further embarrassment.

'Cause I saw you dancing in the gym

“The Triwizard Tournament?” You burst out, leaning back in your chair and running a hand through your hair, “What kind of bullshit is that?”

Harry grimaced, “I kinda don’t have a choice in it, Aunt Y/n.”

You rubbed two hands down your face before looking down at your nephew through the floo network, “I know, but why does it always have to be you?”

“Because I'm special?” He weakly joked.

A scoff escaped your lips, “Yeah, that’s special alright… Just- just promise me that you’re gonna be careful.”

“Of course I will,” He reassured you before shaking his head and laughing to himself, “I feel like this is the only conversation we ever have.”

“That,” You glared pointedly at him, “Is because of your father. The two of you always seem to attract trouble, whether you want to or not.”

You both kicked off your shoes

“He-he was killed right-right in front of me-“ Harry sobbed into your arms as you gently rocked him back and forth, tears of your own sitting in your eyes.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” You kept mumbling over and over again into his hair, where you had buried your face.

He didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve any of the shit that happened to him or anything that he was forced to live through. And of course, the Triwizard Tournament just had to be added to that list, and Voldemort was really back this time.

“Cedric is gone,” He choked out, hands gripping onto your arms tightly- desperately- as if they were a lifeline for him.

“I know, I know,” You blinked and tears slipped down your face, “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

Then I dig those rhythm and blues

“We’re getting the Order back together,” Sirius informed you, leaning back in his chair with a small grin, “So I suppose I’m here to recruit you.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest, “Because the last Order ended so well.” You shot out sarcastically.

The man’s smile faltered, “It’ll be different this time.”

For some reason, those words only made you angrier, and you harshly pushed back your chair and stood up, pointing accusingly at him with a glare , “In what sense?” You hissed, “In the sense that I don’t have a brother to lose anymore? In the sense that it’s just another war?”

He shook his head from side to side sadly, clearly trying not to take your words to heart, “In the sense that you have Harry to think about and look after this time.”

That made you freeze, just like he knew it would, and you dropped back down into your seat, “Shit,” You cursed softly, running a hand through your hair.

“We will win this time,” He told you confidently, reaching out and squeezing your hand, “We’ll avenge James, Lily, and everyone else that we lost the first time around.”

Hesitantly, you began nodding, “Fine, I’m in.”

I was a lonely teenage broncin' buck

“What the hell were you thinking?” You shouted over the chaos, eyes panickingly sweeping over Harry for any sign of pain, your hands tightly gripping his shoulders.

All around you, Order members and Death Eaters shot curses at one another with no sign of slowing.

“I- I thought he had you and Sirius,” The boy quickly explained, “I couldn’t reach either of you and it was driving me crazy, I couldn’t just sit by and do nothing.”

“Why would Voldemort have brought us to the Ministry?” You hissed at his idiocy before sighing heavily and stepping back slightly, “Okay, okay, I would’ve done the same. I’m sorry for getting mad.”

Tears began to fill his eyes, “I’m sorry for coming here.”

“Hey, hey,” You rushed to comfort him, “It’s not your fault.”

“Y/n!” Sirius called with a grunt from nearby, narrowly blocking a curse thrown his way, “I hate to break up your little Potter reunion, but I could use some help over here!”

With one last smile at Harry, you tightened your grip on your wand and took off in Sirius’s direction, the sound of footsteps behind you letting you know that he had followed you.

Quickly, you threw a stunning curse towards Sirius opponent, sending him flying back into a nearby wall.

“It’s just like old times!” Only Sirius could grin that wildly despite the circumstances.

You scoffed playfully as Harry joined the two of you, both blocking two separate curses in sync, “If this were like old times, then you’d be owing me a drink for saving you!” You teased.

For a split second, he diverted his attention away from the task at hand to smile wider at you, “Maybe I’ll get you one-“

He was cut off by a blinding flash of green being sent directly to his chest.

Both of you froze in sync and you were forced to watch with your feet glued to the ground as he looked between you and Harry with a small smile before his body was pulled into a nearby veil.

Your blood curling scream sounded through the room long before Harry’s did, and you were practically numb to the arm that Remus wrapped around both of you as you each sobbed violently.

You weren’t even able to register the way the man himself was shaking with tears, but he didn’t let up his grip on you and Harry.

How many more times did this have to happen for you to become immune? How many more people did you have to lose before you stopped shedding tears in their names?

With a pink carnation and a pickup truck

With a shaky sigh, you dropped the pink carnation bouquet that you had picked out into a vase you and filled with water and let it rest on the counter, where you then let your head fall and rest upon.

“What’s with the flowers?” Harry piped up softly from behind you.

You raised your head to look at the beautiful plants slightly before signing again, “When Sirius first moved in with us, he didn’t know how he could ever thank my parents for what they had done for him. So he started doing little things to say thank you, meaningful things. One of them was picking a bundle of these types flowers that grew nearby the house and bringing them to my mother, getting her new ones every time the others died.”

He nodded in understanding, gazing at the pink leaves, “They’re beautiful.”

A hum of agreement left your lips, “My mother thought so too.”

But I knew I was out of luck

“With your bad luck, I’m surprised you three idiots made it this long.” You informed them with a small, playful scoff.

Hermione smiled a little bit, “Yeah, me too.”

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m grateful for it!” Ron squeaked, and frowned a bit as the three of you laughed.

“Auntie, we have to get on the express.” Harry said softly.

You nodded a little bit, pursing your lips, “I know.”

“We’ll be careful,” Hermione promised, and you smiled softly at her while cupping her cheek, rubbing your finger up and down subconsciously.

“Oh, come here.” You quickly pulled all three children into a tight group hug before kissing every one of them on the tops of their heads.

The day the music died

“What happened that night?” You whispered, watching as Harry’s eyes glazed over quickly and his defenses went up.

He shrugged stiffly, and though you felt guilty for asking, you needed to know what really went down at Hogwarts the night that Dumbledore was killed. You needed to know how much Harry would be affected by it and how negative that affect would be.

“Harry,” You begged with a soft whisper, “I just want to help you.”

“I know,” He admitted with a sigh, dropping his head against the back of the couch you both sat on in your living room.

Silence fell over you for a few minutes that consisted of you chewing on your bottom lip nervously before he finally spoke up again, “We need to prepare for a war.”

His words made your head snap over to him in alarm, “Don’t talk like that,”

“It’s true,” He insisted, turning his body to face you, “After everything that’s been happening, we both know it’s coming.”

You shook your head stubbornly, tears filling in your eyes, “Don’t you talk like that,” You warned through gritted teeth, “Your parents died so you would never have to live through a war like we did.”

He sighed, reaching over and wrapping his arms around you, “I know,” He whispered into your hair as you leaned your head against his chest, “But it’s true. And I’d rather fight and defend others than not and watch them die.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, “But you're just kid.”

“I know.”

“It’s not fair.”

“…I know.”

“Please reconsider this, Harry.” You turned so you were staring up at him with wide eyes, “I know that I’m not your parent, but please, don’t go through with this. This isn’t what they would want for you.”

“Would they prefer I stand by and do nothing?” You fell silent, “They fought in the first war, and if they were still alive, they would fight in this one in a heartbeat… you know I’m right.”

You dropped your head in defeat, because you did know that he was right.

“Then I’m fighting with you,” You sat up.

He was quick to shake his head, “I don’t want you getting hurt-“

“You forget that I’m the adult here, Harry.” You reminded him sternly, “And if I can’t stop you from doing this, then you can’t stop me either.”

Slowly, he nodded, “Okay… okay… We’ll do this together.”

I started singing bye-bye, Miss American Pie

You gripped your wand tightly as your eyes scanned the forest back and forth, you quickly glanced behind you at the sound of leaves crunching.

“Under different circumstances,” You spoke as Harry sat beside you, “This place would be beautiful.”

He hummed in agreement, looking around as well.

The tent that Ron and Hermoine were in rested a few yards back, where they hopefully were sleeping off the craziness of the day.

“Your mother would kill me if she knew I wasn’t sending you to school this year,” You laughed softly at your own words.

Harry chuckled beside you, kicking at the ground a little bit when his smile faded, “I wish I didn’t have to drag you all into this.” His face was twisted up with guilt.

“Hey,” You grabbed onto his hand and shook it slightly, “This was our choice, we all knew what we were getting into. But we all love you, so it’s gonna be worth it.”

“What if one of us doesn’t make it?” He wondered out loud, voice barely above a whisper.

All at once, your body stiffened, “Don’t talk like that.”

“It’s true though!” He cried, “What if Ron, Hermione, or-or y-you die because I dragged you into this?”

“And what if we hadn’t come along?” You rounded on him, “What then? Would it have been you that died?” You asked furiously, “I would die in a heartbeat to keep you safe- all of you.”

He paled at your words, looking slightly nauseated, “You can’t die.” He whispered.

“Then we’re going to drop this discussion.” You determined, “And neither of us are going to think about it again. Got it?”

He nodded numbly and you sighed, “Come ‘ere,” You muttered, wrapping your arm around him.

Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry

The snow fell gently across the town that you had once viewed as beautiful. That is, until your brother and sister in law moved into a certain quaint house and your entire life was flipped upside down.

You swallowed harshly, fighting with every bone in your body not to turn around and sprint in the other direction with every step forward that you took.

Hermione and Ron had gone off to a small coffee shop, muttering about giving you and Harry some space.

The boy had his arm tightly locked around yours and he seemed to be struggling just as much as you were, both of you with your feet frozen right in front of the cemetery.

“I haven’t visited this place,” You admitted with a guilty whisper, “Not once. I didn’t even show up to the funeral. I couldn’t.”

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Harry asked you hesitantly, eyeing you sideways.

You forced a tight smile on your face and gave him one nod of confirmation, “It’s about time I said goodbye for real.” Before adding, “Both of us.”

With that, arm in arm, you slowly made your way past the gravestones until you came upon two side by side with the names of Lily and James Potter printed across them.

You inhaled sharply at the sight of it, blinking away tears, knowing that they would freeze instantly on your face if you let them loose.

Slowly, Harry took out his wand and muttered a small spell that Hermione no doubt taught him, and a bundle of pink carnations appeared on each of their graves.

A watery laugh left your lips at his actions, causing a small smile to pull at the ends of his own lips, “They’re beautiful, Harry.”

He rested his head against the top of yours and you each silently said your own goodbyes to the ones that you lost.

Them good old boys were drinking whiskey and rye

“Look! They’re here! They’re here!” Students all around you cheered, and you couldn’t help but feel a slight spark of happiness at the looks of hope and joy on their faces.

When you and the children had returned to Hogwarts to finish what had been started, you hadn’t expected all of these students to begin cheering your names as they finally got their first sign of hope in seemingly months.

As your eyes scanned through the sea of kids, you knew that you couldn’t let them down. They had all lost so much, being forced to go through what you and your peers had back then in some ways, and you would be damned if you let them suffer any longer.

Glancing over at Harry, you knew instantly that he had the same thoughts.

Singing, "This'll be the day that I die"

“No!” You screamed so loud that it felt like your throat was ripping, but you could barely feel it over the pain in your heart, “No! No! No!”

Molly let out a sob, quickly wrapping her arms around you to stop you from running forward towards the Death Eaters at the sight of Harry’s limp body in Hagrid’s arms.

“Harry Potter is dead!” Voldemort announced with a malicious grin, thoroughly enjoying watching as your entire world came crashing down right on top of you, suffocating your lungs.

It felt as though he held your heart in his disgusting hands and was squeezing it in an agonizingly painful way.

Arthur had to make his way over and wrap an arm around you as well, your sheer strength from anger and denial making it impossibly difficult for Molly to hold you alone.

You couldn’t even hear the rest of what The Dark Lord had to say over your hopeless, despair-filled cry’s that raked through your entire body violently.

Harry was the only thing that had kept you going after all these years, after what happened. And with him being gone now, you knew that you wouldn’t be able to go on. Not without him.

Then, without warning, Harry’s body rolled out of Hagrid's hold and he jumped up, locking eyes with you briefly before picking up his wand and pointing it at Voldemort.

You gasped, a large amount of air filling into your lungs for the first time since thinking he was dead, to much in a state of shock to even register the chaos that erupted all around you as everyone sprang into action, firing spell after spell at the opposing side.

When you finally snapped out of it though, you sprang forward and fired a deadly curse towards Voldemort, years of rage and heart brokenness behind it for everyone and everything you lost at his hand.

He barely even glanced at you as he deflected it and sent a light of green straight into your chest.

This will be the day that I die

It was over. The only war was finally over. And for the first time in weeks, Harry felt himself smile as he desperately looked around for you. Despite all the two of you had gone through, at least you would be able to enjoy the new world- one rid of Voldemort- together. A world that was finally safe.

His eyebrows furrowed and he paused in his steps when he caught sight of Hermione, Ron, Molly, and Arthur all standing in a circle in the middle of a hallway, every one of them crying.

He moved forward to see what was the matter, “What is it? What’s wrong-“

Harry cut himself short and he felt all the air get knocked out of his lungs, sending him falling to his knees, “A-auntie?” He stuttered out, mouth running dry as he looked down at your limp form on the ground.

Your lips were parted slightly and your eyes were wide open, staring unseeingly at a nearby pile of rubble.

Everyone’s heads snapped over to him and Molly fell down beside him, wrapping her arms around the boy, “Oh, Harry-“

He immediately shrugged off her hands, instead frowning slightly and beginning to shake your shoulders, “Auntie? Aunt Y/n, wake up.”

All anyone could do was just stand there and watch silently with tears streaming down their faces.

“No,” He choked out when you didn’t stir, “No, wake up. Please, please wake up,” He begged through sobs, “We’re free, we’re finally free. Wake up!”

Nobody left his side, not for a single second of the hour he sat there, screaming- pleading- begging- you to wake up until his throat was raw and scratchy and he fell backwards on his heels.

“All she ever wanted was what was best for me.” The boy whispered, “That's all she ever wanted.”

“Then let’s give her that,” Molly spoke softly, hugging him again, “Honor her by living your life to the fullest. She wanted your happiness more than anything in this world.”

Harry looked down at you once more, the woman that had taken him in on her own free will in order to honor her brother and lost friends. The woman who raised him and taught him everything he knew. The woman who gave him everything. The woman who sacrificed herself so that he could keep living his life.

It’s LeviOsa 🪄- @i-writes-things @kiyomi-uchiha777

#book places 1 year event #platonic #platonic imagine #x reader #harry potter x reader #harry potter x reader platonic #harry potter x aunt reader #james potter x sister reader #ron weasley x reader #ron weasley x reader platonic #sirius black x reader platonic #sirius black x reader #remus lupin x reader platonic #remus lupin x reader #hermione granger x reader #hermione granger x reader platonic #harry potter #ron weasley #sirius black #james potter #hermione granger #remus lupin #song fic #song imagine #song inspired fic

[fallinforerling]

LOVE ISN'T ETERNAL. chapter 9 - jb

ೃ⁀➷ jude’s masterlist

ೃ⁀➷ jude’s taglist

ೃ⁀➷ masterlist

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

After being dropped off by Jude’s parents, you stayed on the couch for a good hour thinking about how bizarre the whole day was. You didn’t even want to check your phone right now, so you just left it in your living room and went directly to get a hot shower. 

While undressing, you noticed that you had dinner while wearing Jobe’s jersey. Hah, now it made sense why so many people took double looks at you. Not that you cared.

You just wanted to relax for once. The whole process of getting ready for bed got you in a better mood; so after doing your skincare and drinking some tea, you felt ready to check your messages.

There were some texts from the girls and some from Jobe. You went for Jobe’s first since they were the most recent.

✉️ Jobe: Thank you for the weirdest night ever

✉️ You’re welcome?

✉️ Jobe: No, seriously. I haven’t seen Jude this happy for a while now

✉️ Jobe: He’s close to giggling and kicking his feet like a little girl

✉️ lmao

✉️ Maybe that’s because I told him I was going to unblock him

✉️ Jobe: Did you?

✉️ Not yet…

✉️Jobe:  Well, maybe you should

✉️ Oh my god??? What’s happening???

✉️ Jobe: I talked to him, just… Maybe? I won’t force you tho

✉️ I’ll consider it

✉️ Jobe: That’s good enough for me… Have a good night, darling

✉️ Good night, sweetie

Odd. What could possibly be happening that Jobe was (kinda) defending his brother? You didn’t blame him, obviously. But… Again, odd. With a shrug, you hopped on the girl’s group chat, which had lots of messages from hours ago.

✉️ Nikki: Weeeeell…. I was casually checking the TikToks people were posting about the game… You know, to see how it was going

✉️ Nikki: THEN… Girl, you went a bit viral agaaaaain. You appeared on the big screen and SOME people saw the little interaction Mr. Jobe and you had. The football fandom is going crazy again, a lot of people are debating if you’re his girlfriend or Gio’s girlfriend

✉️ Mia: Since none of them had said a word about the rumors… People are kinda taking sides

✉️ Mia: I also saw that after the first half some girls were looking for you because they were near your seat and you were gone. Then they noticed you were sitting next to THE Jude Bellingham and went on trying to figure out if you were his girlfriend instead while taking videos and photos to POST?!

✉️ Nikki: MESSY

✉️ Oh god… I just saw this… WHY ME, LORD?!

✉️ It’s like… For each day of peace I get, ten days of absolute chaos are piled up on my door

✉️ Nikki: It’s the drama, the fun, the footballers, the fame

✉️ Nikki: Our beautiful little WAG

✉️ Mia: If it’s not with douchie, it’s with that Gio guy

✉️ Mia: Heʼs hot af

✉️ Mia???? 

✉️ Do you want his number?

✉️ Nikki: Omg, Miaaaa

✉️ Mia: Both of you… Shut up. This isn’t about me finding Gio the hottest man alive, this is about YOU getting shipped with half of the footballers you know

✉️ Don’t remind me of that, please

✉️ I’ll better get some sleep before the vein on my forehead explodes, bye my loves

✉️ Nikki: Bye baby! Sweet dreams

✉️ Mia: Score a goal!

✉️ Fuck you lmao

Great. You were never getting rid of that stupid “popularity” among the football fanbase… Well, at least among the people that cared about the player’s love lives. They knew your face now, even if the subject of who your “boyfriend” was died down. You were out there forever for people to see and have an opinion.  

Time to sleep.

You were on your way to turn off the lights and wash your cup when the telecommunicator started to ring; you almost let out a scream. Who on Earth was ringing your house at two A.M?! With your heart beating like crazy, you ran to answer and yell to the jerk on the other side. 

“Miss! I’m so sorry to bother you this late but…” Mel’s words were interrupted by some loud male voices. “There’s a couple of gentlemen asking me to allow them into your floor…” Oh, poor Mel. 

You couldn't scream to your sweet doorman Mel.

“Mel! Hi... Gentlemen? As... Men asking to come here?” This was unbelievable.

“Yes, uh. They'd been here for at least ten minutes. I'd tried to persuade them into leaving but nothing works."

“Do you happen to recognize these gentlemen?” Your gut feeling was very reliable, so you kinda knew who it was. 

“Well… I’m not so sure about it, but I think that’s… Bukayo Saka and Jude Bellingham, miss.” 

He surely knew them at first sight, but it was adorable he was trying to dissimulate it.

“Oh, my god…” You sighed. When was this going to end? “Just… Let them in, Mel.”

“As you wish.” 

You wanted to punch someone so bad right now. But you just stayed there, by your door, waiting for what seemed to be the night of never end.

No less than five minutes later, your door was being punched at. Because that wasn't a knock. You considered for a moment letting them outside, but you weren't going to sleep if you did that. 

When you opened it, the silliest sight welcomed you. There was Bukayo, a mutual friend that you haven't seen in very long, carrying (if you can call that carrying) a very drunk Jude. How did you know he was drunk? Well, he was (seemingly) asleep against Bukayo's side, only kept from falling because of his friend's arm around his waist. 

“Okay...” Was the first thing that came out of your mouth. “This is... Something.”

“So sorry to do this at such late hours... He's been so insistent. He got a bit too drunk and started to ask about where his girlfriend was and that he wanted to come home.” Bukayo's eyes went blank, sighing. He seemed pretty sober to you. “I tried to persuade him into visiting you tomorrow, but this guy never takes no for an answer.”

“That sounds like him.” You smiled at him apologetically. Because what else could you do? No one knew you two had broken up, and this wasn't the best moment to break the news either. “Let's take him to the couch, I'll help you.”

You got closer, feeling the smell of alcohol reeking from Jude. Iugh. You took one of his arms, putting it around your shoulders. Hah, and just a couple of hours earlier you were trying to avoid just that. With a lot of effort, both of you laid him out the best you could. That didn't mean that it was done in the most careful way. So he woke up, looking at you and then at Bukayo. 

“Am I dreaming, mate?”

“Nah, fam. I did what you asked me; I took you to your girl.” He palmed Jude's arm and then smiled at you. “Now I'm out, this whole thing tired me up.”

“That's okay. Thank you for taking care of him.” You gave him a little hug after guiding him to the door. “I hope we can catch up another time without this type of thing going on.”

“Me too.” He smiled again, looking as sweet as ever, and then turned and left. 

Now you were alone with...

“Darling?” Oh no, not the darling. 

You turned, looking at Jude, who was struggling to keep himself sat upright. He was looking at you with the most drunken-hazed eyes ever, accompanied by the biggest of smiles.

“Yes, Jude?” It was better not to argue with a drunk person this late at night.

“Can I tell you something?”  

“Yeah, sure.” You got closer, sitting on the carpet. Not too close, but not too far away from him. “What is it?”

“I'm an idiot. I'm so dumb, I got drunk tonight, and I miss you.” The smile left his face, but he was still looking at you with happy eyes. “Every time I see your face, I remember that I'm mad dumb for breaking up with you. Because I still love you. A lot.” He let himself fall back into the couch pillows, sighing. “I don't know why I panicked so much a month ago. It was a stupid chat.”

“Sorry?” Your heart was beating fast because of his past confessions, but this new phrase caught your attention way more. “What chat?”

He wasn't looking at you. He was just looking up at the ceiling, like he was trying to remember something.

“Just some stupid chat the coach gave us before you arrived at Dortmund that day... He was talking about how we, as professionals, had to settle in earlier so we didn't get carried away because of all the money and parties... And the drugs. He said that there was a reason for footballers to get married and have kids at such young ages.” He sighed again, looking tired. “And I knew he was talking to the younger part of the team, which included me... I just... I felt like I was being pressured to marry immediately... I got so carried away with my thoughts that I panicked when I saw you. You make me so happy, but I didn't feel ready for any of the coach's options.”  

“So... You broke up with me instead of talking?” Woah. “That's fucked up, Jude.”

“I know... And I'm not asking you to forgive me or... Get back together with me... Even though that's what I have been wishing since I said the words, but... I wanted you to know.”

He didn't seem drunk at all now. 

“Thank you for telling me.” That's all you could say for now. Too much information to take in. 

“Would you have said yes?” He asked after a few minutes of silence, still looking at the ceiling. 

“To what?”  

“Marrying me.”

You felt like someone punched your heart and took the air out of your body. At the same time. 

“I won't answer that.” Mostly because you didn't know the answer. “Get some sleep.” You got up, looking down at him. 

“Why not?”

You took a long look at his face. You gave him a little smile, reaching for his cheek with one of your hands. You caressed it with the tip of your fingers before regretting touching him at all. He closed his eyes, but opened them when you retrieved your hand. 

“Because there's no point in answering something that's not going to happen.”

He frowned, looking offended for a second before relaxing his face again. 

“Well, I haven't asked you.”

“And you shouldn't, because that's something you do when you're sure about it... And not drunk.” You took one of the covers you kept close, tucking him on the sofa so he couldn't move. “And when you're in a relationship, of course. Now sleep or I'll kick you out of my house.”

“Okay...” He appeared so similar to a kid now, all flustered and with big eyes. “I'm sorry for all of this.”

“I forgive you.”

And that was true. You forgave him for all of it. You couldn't hold a grudge forever. It wasn't healthy. 

“Really?” Hope sparkled in his eyes. It made your heart ache.

“I promise.”

Then you got closer and kissed his forehead to prove him right about your words. He gave you the biggest of smiles, again, before falling asleep right there. You gave him a last caress on the cheek before turning the lights off and walking towards your bedroom.

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You thought it was impossible to get any sleep after what happened, but the moment your head touched the pillow, you were out. The stress was draining your energy. You blacked out until the next morning, when a knock on the door woke you up. 

You remembered everything that had happened just a couple of hours ago. There was Jude, knocking on your door like he was a stranger. Somehow, it felt like it. 

“Come on in.” You said after a few seconds, rubbing your face.

The door slowly opened up. Jude was still covered in the blanket, holding it together with one hand below his chin while the other rubbed his eye. Pretty much the same as you. You couldn't help but smile a little at the sight. 

“Good morning.” Even his voice had a little hint of shyness.

“Did you sleep well?” Was all you said while you got up and walked towards the bathroom.

“Yes...” He followed you, just two steps behind. “Thank you.”

“Stop saying 'thank you', just come here and brush your teeth.” You grabbed one of the brand new toothbrushes you kept in the drawer, offering it to him. 

He seemed so scared yet happy about your behavior while taking the toothbrush. You weren't fooling anyone, it was fun to play with his mind a little bit. Payback.

He stood there watching you brush your teeth, wash your face, and brush your hair. It was very funny.

“I'm not going to suddenly take a knife out and follow you around the house with it, Jude. Get cleaned or you won't get breakfast.” You got out of the bathroom, smiling at him when he just blinked at you. “All yours.” And then you left him alone in there.

You entered the kitchen, ready for some breakfast. You heard the bathroom sink go on and off for a few minutes. Meanwhile, you decided to make some scrambled eggs with ham and toast some beagles. It was the best you could offer with so many thoughts taking most of your concentration. 

When you were finishing the second plate, Jude appeared by the door and stayed there. He looked at the plates with surprise, like it was actually impossible for you to be making breakfast for him. 

“It's getting cold.” You offered him one of the plates that was already sitting on the mini table you had available. 

“Are you preparing me for my sudden death, darling?” He sat in front of you, waiting for you to take the first bite. He always did that. 

“Not yet.” You took a bite off the beagle, smiling when he did the same. “Maybe after I eat.” 

He smiled but didn't say anything. You ate in silence, looking at each other from time to time. You felt different around him now that you knew what caused him to break up with you. It wasn't that you suddenly forgot about everything else or how mad you felt, but it made things easier. You wanted to talk. Now there was a real reason for it. 

“I'll wash the dishes.” Before you could say anything, he took both plates and stood up. 

“Go ahead... And after you finish them, we'll talk.”

“Do I make some tea first?” 

“Yeah, that'll be nice.” 

He seemed to understand what was crossing your mind, so he made the tea quietly and walked to the living room. You followed him. 

“Well...” You took a sip of the tea. “Do you remember what you said last night?” 

“I do...” He squirmed on the seat. He was nervous. “I wanted to tell you all that sober but... I fuck up things quite regularly.” 

You smiled, shaking your head. 

“Okay, it's good for the sake of this conversation that you remember everything. Now, when I said that I forgive you, I meant it. But that doesn't mean I'm not angry or hurt by all of it.” He nodded. “I'm still disappointed about how poorly you managed the whole thing; you just needed to talk to me, and the breakup would never have happened.”

“I know.” He covered his face, sighing. “I'm an idiot.” 

“Yeah! Look at me, I spent a month thinking you didn't love me anymore, and it turns out that you just were a bastard that didn't know how to talk to his girlfriend.” You slightly pushed his arm with your foot. “You said you didn't love me as you used to... Why?” 

“I don't know.” He groaned, taking his hands off his face. “I guess I wanted you to hate me. I’ve never stopped loving you.” He grabbed your ankle, dragging your leg closer to his body. “I think I love more than before, actually.” 

You didn't say anything for a while, you just looked at him for the longest time, trying to figure out what to do next. 

“I'm very mad at you.” You took a deep breath. “That club thing you did after we broke up is still fresh in my mind. I can't pretend everything is the same just because we talked.” 

“I know. I'm a jerk for doing that. I just wanted to see if... If I could act like I was okay. I wanted to feel okay. And couldn't accept that I regretted breaking up with you the second you left.” 

“Always your big ego, huh?” You laughed. “Don't take this as if we just got back together. We're... We're friends from now on.” 

“We are friends for now.” He said, smiling. “Because I'll do everything that's in my power to win you back.”

“Whatever you say, Bellingham.”

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚⋆·˚ ༘ * TAGLIST

@mentalbaddie | @taintedstranger | @mrs-dasilvasantoss | @mbapbaesluvr | @erensfavgirly | @cinderellawithashoe | @yoitsmo07 | @seajjin | @kakuchosbff | @peterparkerbae | @alwaysclassyeagle | @itsjuspenny-blog | @lbsmainblog | @youngjayla | @freetimemachinequeen | @chaeryeongstuff | @lazyreadergirl | @trentismine | @jul1ettt | @wavessmile

#jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham imagine #jude x reader #jude #judebellingham #jude bellingham fic #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham #jb22 #borussia dortmund #footballer fics #footballer fic #footballer blurb #footballer fanfiction #footballfics #jude x y/n #jude x you #jude bellingham x y/n #jude bellingham angst #footballer fanfic #footballer x reader #football fic #football fanfic

[credince--writes]

Deep In Those Woods 6

Keegan P. Russ x Fem!Reader

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6

AO3

Masterlist

You find a strange man in the woods, no doubt running from the federation. He seems, well, in simple terms beat to shit. May your act of kindness not go unpunished.

A/N:

DID SOMEONE SAY WORLDBUILDING AND SEXUALLLLL TENSION?

I did :)

Sorry I've been gone so long my appendix fucking exploded

Taglist:

@dindjarinsmeshla @tessxq @ladyvlolypop @tiny-kasper

@biggiecheeselover @konigsleftkidney @mykneeshurt @katsufairies @noname0756

Keegan stared, mouth opening and trying to speak but nothing coming out- his mind rushing a million miles a minute.

"Because you owe me?" You teased.

He releases a breath. "Yea, Princess. Because I owe you."

You were angry, rightfully so-

You felt you were further past this, but at the same time, you really didn't know each other at all did you?

You knew he muttered in his sleep, softly, and only when he felt warm. He never mumbled when he was cold, he'd curl in on himself

You knew his eyes reminded you of the clear, blue waters of the creeks and rivers that passed over the rocks here.

You knew that even though he'd never say anything, he liked having extra carmelized onions in his food.

Or that he still wouldn't complain, but was always hesitant to eat scrambled eggs for some reason.

"You need to sit down." You all but hissed out, shooing him out of the kitchen and back down onto the couch across the room.

"And you..." Keegan sat down, leaning back into the cushion of the couch and letting out a sigh of relief, the stabbing pain in his side subsiding as he leaned back and relaxed. Trailing off, the glanced out the window, dutifully ignoring the light red tinge of embarrassment that dusted onto his face understanding that yes, you were right about his exertion.

He needed to dial it back if he ever wanted to get better.

He'd been hurt worse before, he argued, he shouldn't be complacent in a stranger's home just because it was warm.

Just because there were rare occasions where your hand would grace across his skin, his eyes would flutter closed and he could almost forget about how horrible of a man he really was.

He was destined to be buried face down in the Earth, pointed back home in some strange, cold, and hostile land. Not being doted on, and soaking it up like a greedy sponge.

What the fuck is he doing?

He has been MIA for who knows how long- he couldn't keep track of the days in his concussed stupor, but he knows it was more than two weeks minimum of time he'd lost total.

Keegan was angry with himself for letting the time get away from him- but from the dark splotching on his skin he knew that if he had just tried to push it he would've died under the ferns and moss.

That was, if he ever would've managed to get himself out of that creek.

A horrible little part of him knew he wouldn't have.

He needed to get his radio working- he needed to get intel back to base- the fact that there was four unmarked settlements they didn't even know about was concerning. How old was the information they'd sent him out here for based off of?

What he needed was-

“Soup.” You said, almost sheepishly as you sat down next to him, readying yourself to raise the spoon to his lips. His cold blue eyes narrowed on the bowl, forcing him to sit up and reach his hands out to pull it from your grip.

Your cheeks burned, turning your head away and sucked in a deep breath trying not to immediately turn back and react, glance down at his waistband, and argue. Biting your tongue and waiting just a millisecond you gather your thoughts you turned your head back to look at him, the amusement clear in his pale blue eyes.

You quickly stood, excusing yourself and walking outside to take a breath.

The feeling of your warm hands brushing against his chest when you thought he was asleep, selfishly keeping his breathing even to lure your little hands into touching him.

No.

He had pieces of why he'd been sent, he knew the mission. He just lost bits of time to the adrenaline and blood loss as he staggered through the woods and eventually toppled into the creek.

He'd left from Santa Monica nearly two months ago, he knew that. The plane ride, the rinky dinky bush plane if it could even be considered a plane.

It had two wings in flew, he mused to himself, of course, it was a fucking plane.

The heavily wooded areas of the northern segment of the state, while not ravished by the attacks of ODIN had fallen victim to the infestation of Federation soldiers. It was a guerilla war, in the street, woods, the rivers. The cities fell first, but the remote areas were controlled by farmers withheld.

Infrastructure was destroyed, bridges were blown, and entire counties were islanded in a matter of days.

And since they held no real value in the war, they were left alone.

Until five months ago.

The intel was solid, they'd moved in from the coast suddenly, surging into the few remaining skeletons of cities and overwhelming what little military a civilian presence was left.

The question was why.

Nuclear Power.

A small, barely on-the-map city and it's nearly forgotten nuclear power plant was guarded with the minimal military presence that remained in the area. And clearly, the presence wasn't enough.

The rods in the plant could be deconstructed and turned into dirty bombs that could, and more than likely would, wreak havoc on the few remaining 'unscathed' cities of the country.

Keegan called it one of the worst oversights possible-

all they had to do was remove the fucking nuclear components/

But alas, the bridges had been blown up.

Was the justification.

He lived in the woods, deep behind the cover, and stalked, much like the wildlife rampantly taking back over the land. Lurking in the shadows and observing trying to confirm if the plant was being used to convert for weapons of mass destruction.

Or, even more plausibly, to turn the city into one of their most efficiently functioning bases on American soil.

He volunteered himself for the mission, needed some way to escape after the last absolute shit show of a mission that ended with both Hesh and Logan getting hurt. He knew he couldn't have prevented it- it's just something that happens on the job now, but it still melted into his flesh like acid.

He needed time to be alone, time to rethink the events that had happened. What better way to have plenty of time to think than to volunteer to sit in a glorified damp hole for God knows how long and simply wait.

And wait.

And wait some more.

It started to become clear that at least for now, the power plant was to stay to its intended use- holding the old employees at gunpoint to ensure that the plant stayed maintained.

He waited some more.

Until the crackling of his radio, quiet in his ear but so loud compared to the silence he'd become accustomed to over the last few days. New intel on a location nestled deep in the woods, five miles from his current vantage point staring down onto the plant.

Well, that's where it went to shit.

The hike wasn't the bad part, neither was the rain, or the mosquitoes, or the run-in with the bear. He could manage all of those things, but he wasn't prepared to see the base. The dingy little thing if it could even be called a base.

He could argue with himself and say he'd stayed in worse, but that was beside the point.

It was the people.

Of course, there would be the locals, they wouldn't be able to sustain the base without their (forced) help of them. He knew that, that was usually how those bases went. Either the locals would be killed on sight, or be forced into laboring for their invaders.

He just never got used to how skinny and hollow they always looked.

So when it was one of the Prisoners who saw past the camouflage and alerted the soldiers, barrels turning and pointing dangerously close to not twigs and leaves- Keegan decided he needed to move.

And he was moving, running- fleeing, for three days.

The delirium of exhaustion caused hallucinations of sounds that weren't really there- soldiers that weren't really there. Getting the drop on him in ways they shouldn't have been able to.

He'll blame it on the exhaustion.

But it seems like some of these soldiers knew the land better than a non-local soldier.

They'd started to convert.

And he ran, until the blade of his knife was dull and blood splattered on the ferns and leaves beneath him. Until his legs gave out from under him.

Until he tumbled into the sweet, cold fresh water of your creek.

Until he felt the first brush of your warm flesh against his.

Maybe he was still delirious.

#Call of Duty #Keegan P Russ x reader #Keegan Russ x Reader #Call of Duty Ghosts #Deep In Those Woods

[idontknowreallywhy]

1 - Presence

I’m pretty sure that the more determined I am to sit and write something fluffy in a spare moment, the more angsty it comes out. This morning I was going to write some nice earth and sky but smashed the Virg instead…

And so we have some Virgil post Scott’s going MIA because that’s clearly where the fluff lies. It’s a slightly weird idea and I maybe have fallen off the mixed metaphor cliffedge here, but sensory stuff fascinates me so…

Err… I’m sorry?

In mitigation I might have an idea for a follow up scene when Scott is finally back…

(Not well proofed, thrown down in a coffee break)

💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚

It was an unexpected thing that finally broke Virgil:

The smell of washing powder.

An odour none of them ever noticed, because it was everywhere. A background chord running through all the linen in the place, over which all the other scents of the household were layered like a complex symphony. Until some of those more discordant scents became too loud and overpowering at which point the item was laundered, and a new score was opened beginning only with that familiar chord as a canvas.

By unspoken agreement, his room remained as he’d left it. Perhaps none of them had truly accepted he wouldn’t return to fill it with life again. Perhaps it just wasn’t necessary to thrust the knives of practicality into that particular wound yet… they weren’t short of space at the ranch.

Virgil would visit, once or twice a week, usually late at night when the effort of holding everything and everyone together had drained the last drop of his resolve and he needed to renew his vow to his big brother.

It required preparation though. He would shower, thoroughly, using a fragrance free soap he had ordered especially. Only when he was positive that all traces of his own cologne, hair products, coffee, his own smell were washed away would he open the door. He didn’t want to add anything to the faint music that persisted inside.

The bed had only been slept in three nights, on that brief visit home before he was deployed for the last time and so nobody had thought it worth stripping the sheets and laundering them. There was a light gloss of super-shiny gel on the pillow and the quiet but unmistakeable melody of his brother lingered.

The blue fluffy dressing gown on the back of the door had been worn longer and played the more powerful tune of his cologne, with a harmony of pancake batter, coffee and, on one cuff, a hint of whisky from the evening he and Virgil had sat on the back porch exchanging dad jokes and Scott had laughed so hard he’d sloshed his drink all over his hand.

He would check everyone else was asleep, then slip to his brother’s door, enter quietly and reverently remove the robe from its hook to wrap around his shoulders, lifting the outsized hood to cover his head. The intense familiarity was always a shock and so he’d stand there for a moment, surrounded by his brother’s song to catch his breath. Then, slowly he would kneel by the side of the bed, his face resting on the edge of the pillow and he would rest for a while and imagine his big brother’s arms around him. He could almost feel Scott’s forehead pressed against his own, or maybe his cheek resting on the top of his head. He’d promise again that he would look after the others. He’d be big brother as long as he had strength left in his body. And somehow, some strength would return. He’d made it through nearly three months now. He could keep going. He could do it for Scott.

He couldn’t linger there for too long. He couldn’t fall asleep here, couldn’t risk a sweaty nightmare eradicating all he had left.

He’d replace the robe and close the door, sneak back down the hallway and return to his own room. Then, and only then, could he allow the tears to fall.

One night he missed a step.

He didn’t check on the others. Maybe he also messed up the stealth part as he was jolted out of his bedside reverie by his youngest brother’s gasp:

“Scotty??!!”

He spun to face the doorway and was able to see Alan’s heart break all over again as the wrong brother looked out from under the hood.

That had been a long night. He’d done his best to explain what he’d been doing and held back his tears as he confessed he didn’t think Scott would come back as a ghost to visit them. He held the devastated child as they both wept and lay awake until the birds signalled another day to survive through was moments away from dawning.

He’d thought little more of it until one evening, well after the kid’s bedtime, Alan burst into the kitchen in a terrible panic and seized grandma by the hand, dragging her upstairs. Curious, Virgil followed and paused at the top of the stairs as he heard Grandma’s low comforting voice interspersed with hiccuppy sobs. They were coming from Scott’s room.

Virgil peered around the half open door to see his grandmother and brother crouched together on the floor, Alan clutching his empty hot chocolate mug and sobbing his heart out. He caught grandma’s eye and she indicated with a look that she had things under control. She’d handle this. He wasn’t needed this time. Virgil nodded and was about to back out when his gaze fell on the bed. And Scott’s robe in a heap by the pillows. And the marshmallows on that robe, surrounded by a spreading brown stain.

Virgil lied and said he had a migraine the following day. He shouldn’t be angry with an 8 year old for wanting to drink his bedtime cocoa with the ghost of his big brother. But he was. Because he, Virgil, was a terrible big brother. Scott wouldn’t have been angry. He’d have laughed and said it was cute and ruffled Allie’s hair and that was why Scott should still be here and Virgil couldn’t do this. They left his food outside the door, with a little get well soon card drawn in a rare fit of cooperation by Gordon and Alan. Alan had surrounded his name in hearts and kisses. He didn’t deserve it.

Late that night, after his usual shower he crept back along the corridor to Scott’s room, quietly opened the door and shut himself inside. Grandma had, indeed, handled it. The bed was neatly made again with freshly laundered sheets and the robe was hung back on its hook, fluffier than ever from the dryer. A new score was opened, only the starting chord could be heard.

Virgil took a deep breath in through his nose and tears filled his eyes.

He was gone.

💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚

(Ok I do need to TBC it as I can’t leave him like that… I’ll fix it I promise)

update: Part 2 “Absence” is here

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #idontknowreallywhy fanfic #tw grief #scott tracy #virgil tracy #alan tracy #thunderangst #angst #bereznik #Tw MiA family member #Presence fic

[emeritus-fuckers]

Hi!! Um.. uh.. hello! Sorry--

I overlistened "He is" and THE idea hit me. Painfully haha

What if! Trezo(maybe Copia?) and s/o got high, like they feel light, nothing matters anymore, and starts making out while the song playing?

Flooooffy kissing, touches, FEELS? Maybe something more teehee

(lately i feel a little depressed, your writing makes me feel better🥺)

-🐻‍❄️

Well hopefully mine also makes you feel better! Terzo is definitely my kryptonite. I’m also apparently good at feels. As a bonus: have the song! - Death

Making out with Terzo to He Is (GN! Reader)

TW: Usage of drugs (weed).

He/they pronouns used for Terzo.

Life at the ministry did not always go smoothly. It often went very, very chaotically.

It had just been one mess after another, a never ending flood of chaos. You had finally finished chasing down the last ghoul that had ended up in the ghoul nip just before dinner. Your clothes were a mess, there were twigs in your hair and frankly you were pretty done with the whole situation.

As you sat eating your dinner, you felt the familiar mismatched gaze on you. Raising your eyes off the plate you were picking at half heartedly, you made eye contact with them.

Terzo.

Your wonderfully attentive partner. Whose eyes were filled with concern and curiosity over the state you currently were in. Tracking your retreating form as you gave up on dinner and simply went back to his room.

You had the key for good reason.

As you stripped from your torn clothes, the door gently opened then shut. A familiar pair of arms and gloved hands wrapping around your body. Holding you close and swaying with you.

“Amore…you look like you’ve had a rough day.”

Terzo murmured softly, placing a gentle kiss on your head. The tension from the chaos of the day already bleeding from your shoulders. Just his presence helping you unwind.

“You…have no idea…”

Came the heavy sigh from your lips, the man behind you frowning softly before an idea popped into his mind. Another gentle kiss being left on your head before he pulled away.

“I will be right back, la mia stella. I think I know what will help us both unwind.”

You blinked as they slipped back out the door, faintly hearing them call for you to take a bath and begin to relax. A fondly exasperated smile appearing on your lips.

He often had wild, outlandish ideas on how to get you to relax. It was that or they were sickly sweet with them. There was no in between.

As you sat in the bath picking things out of your hair, you heard him in the other room shifting things around. It sounded like they were setting something up, not that you could see past the closed door. Though it didn’t take long for him to dramatically come through the bathroom door, his album playing on the record player in the room.

A comb also in hand.

“Allow me, my dear. Let’s get you more comfortable.”

You lowered your arms as he sat on the edge of the tub, starting to comb through your hair to quickly remove more of the debris. Terzo humming softly along to his music as he set the comb aside once satisfied. Ungloved hands gently holding your cheeks to get your eyes to open.

Not that you remembered them falling closed to begin with.

A gentle smile on his painted face as he helped you out of the tub, wrapping you in a freshly warmed towel. Holding you close a moment.

Just admiring you.

Chuckling after a moment as they lead you back to the bed, softly pushing you down into the soft sheets. Blankets turned down to await you both.

“Hopefully, the earth ghouls do not mind us borrowing some of their stock.”

You sat up against the pillows after discarding the towel, looking curiously at him as you got comfortable. Watching them strip as well.

“What do you mean…borrow some of their stock? Did you raid the strawberries again-?”

The epic chase that came from the earth ghouls discovering Terzo raiding their berry plants was still a story told throughout the ministry. Said third born Papa huffing in mock offense while crawling into the bed, pulling you into his arms as he drew the blankets over you both.

“Such faith in me…not this time. I got something…a little stronger.”

They smirked as they opened a small purple box, revealing a more than healthy amount of joints. One being placed between your lips as he lit the end for you.

Which started a chain of events, the charming man stealing your lips after a hit of the joint to steal the smoke from your lungs. Each kiss getting lazier as he kept you close. Eventually both of you were laying in each other’s arms. Finishing the second joint.

A wonderful haze over your mind as Terzo’s hands roamed all over your body. As if he hadn’t already memorized every inch of your skin. Lips trailing down your neck to your chest as he sighed dreamily.

“You, my dear…shine brighter than all the stars, the moon and the sun put together…the dark lord has truly lit my life with your presence…”

You blushed lightly under his attentions, fully relaxed as their hands explored. Tracing over every so called “imperfection” you would see in the mirror as a perfect part of the person he loved. Though they kissed back up towards your lips as the music transitioned.

Smiling to themself as He Is began to play.

You smiled back up to him, reaching up to cup their cheek in your hand. The man leaning down to kiss you deeply. Holding you close as you both floated along among the stars in the drug induced state of euphoria.

Two star crossed lovers lost in your own little world, nothing else mattering but the person in your arms. His, admittedly very rough looking, paint staining your lips each time you both got locked in a kiss. Passionate kisses, dripping with love, affection and thanks for finding the other exchanged throughout the song.

Though only the dark lord himself would know what happened once Mummy Dust began to play.

~

Written by Death.

Taglist: @charlie-is-a-menace @copias-fluffy-asscheeks @randodummy @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @calliedion-dungeon @randominstake @callmeicaro @nuntia @dio-niisio @mamacarlyle @firefirevampire @mybotanicaldemise @emo-mess @natoncesaid @sirlsplayland @thatoddboy @lightbluuestars @strawberriiblossoms @dark-angel-is-back

#ghost band #ghost bc #ghost #ask #anon #ghost band x reader #ghost bc x reader #ghost x reader #papa emeritus iii #papa emeritus 3 #papa terzo #terzo #terzo x reader #papa terzo x reader #papa emeritus iii x reader #papa emeritus 3 x reader #he is #spotify

[quacksonholland]

Two fiancées in love

Sooo, I haven't posted anything in months, and I'm so sorry lol. I've just really not been motivated to write at all. It's like whenever Tom goes MIA I get writer's block lmao !! Anyway, here's this little blurb I wrote months ago and forgot about, it's not much but I hope you like it mwua mwua xx

Warnings: Just fluff, fluff, fluff + Tom and reader are gross (they're too in love with each other istg), I'm not a native speaker, so typos.

wc: +600

Masterlist

•••

"You know, I never thought we'd end up like this." Tom said one day, while he was brushing his teeth and you were reading in bed.

"How do you mean?"

"Like, together. Romantically." He tried to say, nearly spitting all the toothpaste foam in his mouth.

"Really?" You said, and he nodded. "That's funny." A laugh escaped your lips and Tom tilted his head.

"What – are you laughing?" He asked, still confused. Tom spit the toothpaste and washed out his mouth with water.

You just smiled, cuddling further amongst all the cushions and thinking of the early days of your friendship.

"I actually fantasized about us all the time. I was so in love with you." You confessed, and it was his turn to be surprised. "But I never did anything about it because I thought that after filming you'd stay out of touch and we'd never speak again."

"Oh, wow. Glad to see you had faith in us since the very beginning." He mused, finally making his way to the bed. As soon as he got under the covers, your limbs were entangled and he planted a kiss on your cheek "Thank God we made it."

"Yes, thank God. Or maybe thank me for keeping the spark alive while you spent months out in other countries at the very beginning of our relationship." You said with a little smirk, as he gasped dramatically.

"I beg your pardon? Who was the one that sent the other flowers every single Friday? Or the one that paid off his brother so that you could have your favorite meals everyday? Yeah, I didn't think so."

"Oh, poor Sam."

"Poor me. I spent over two thousand pounds for that twat to make you all that food."

"Wha– Two thousand!? Thomas Stanley Holland!" You gasped, hitting his arm playfully.

"Oh God, not the full name." He pretended to be scared but chuckled nonetheless.

"Why on Earth would you spend so much money?"

"I love spoiling you darling, you know that already." Tom smiled with a wink, before a happy grin was plastered on his face "Anyway… Did you know there's only two hundred and twenty-seven days left for you to be my wife?"

You giggled as you hugged him tighter, his hands on your waist as he simply stared at you, eyes filled with adoration. "Can't believe you are counting the days."

"How could I not be, my love. I am so excited for us to get married." Before you could even think of replying, he kissed your lips softly, with the same gleam in his eyes that was present the day he asked you to be his.

"I love you so very much." You whispered, him pecking your lips once more to let you know he feels just the same way.

"And, it's not the only reason, but once we get married we are actually a hundred percent free to make babies, and to be honest, I'm down for doing that without – ow!" You slapped his bicep as you shook your head with disapproval.

"Can't believe your only motive behind asking me to marry you was to get me pregnant."

"Did not say that! I emphasized the fact that it's not the only reason."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, Holland. Just shut it already." You tapped his cheek before snuggling back on his chest.

"Aye aye Mrs. Holland."

"Not yet babe."

"Can't wait till you are."

You feel so much love for this man sometimes you wonder if you're going insane. Is it really considered medically normal to feel your heart swell as much as it does every day? You swear, there's no way you'll get tired of him.

He's your best friend, the love of your life, and everything you'll ever wish for.

•••

So this was it! Hope you liked it!

Reblogs and comments are appreciated!

•••

TAGLIST:

@marvelgurl

@crvshnburnn

#tom holland imagines #tom holland x reader #tom holland x fem!reader #tom holland fluff #tom x reader #tom fic #tom holland fics #irene is sorry

[annesstardustchords]

I'd Go Through it Again (If I Could Hold You For a Minute) - Part 1 / Simon “Ghost” Riley X Reader

hi babies! im so sorry ive been MIA lately, school is fucking me raw and I haven't been doing mentally well at all. that being said, yall deserve some good, angsty smut. luv u all <3 (smut will be in part 2)

(my mental slump may have slipped into this one a little bit...)

Description: Ghost had passed away; killed in action and DOA a couple months prior. You hadn't been handling it well. He was the love of your life, your rock, your muse; all of it. After one particularly bad day at work, you shuffle home in tears, but what you don't know is that there's a little surprise waiting inside for you...

CW: angst, fluff, sobbbbinnnnggg

TW: Mentions of death, suicide, self-harm (non-graphic)

READ WITH CAUTION!

MINORS DNI! I WILL TELL UR MOM!

Four months ago, you received the letter; he was gone - Fuck it, dead. No need to put it nicely.

The love of your life, torn from the warmth of this earth, from you, in a split second. A bullet the size of a pill had ripped through his chest, surpassing his heart and exiting through the thickened muscle of his back. How can something so small do such damage to someone as strong as him? How can something so small take a life? How could he be gone, just like that? How could he leave you?

Angry, intrusive questions swam around in your mind every second of every day; replaying the moment he was shot, the moment he took his last breath in your brain as if you were there. abut you weren’t. You could see it; his massive frame falling to the ground, suddenly appearing small as his eyes widened, and his breath stopped. It haunted you, knowing he was alone when it happened. Soap hadn't found him until hours after he'd passed. "DOA" the letter had read. Dead on fucking arrival. How long had he been there? You could've saved him, you think. You should've been there. But alas, you were deployed to another field, another team just days before. You couldn't protect him.

"Aye!" your superior calls out from behind you, "Head in the fuckin' game, soldier!"

You snap out of your thoughts, raising your gun to the practice target and firing without thinking. You were a great shot naturally, but not these days; your mind focused solely on Simon, your eyes fogged with his decrepit silhouette inside of his casket. It was open the day of the funeral; not your typical soldier send-off, but you had requested it. You hated what you saw when you looked inside that box. You had lifted the mask to ensure it really was him, and sure enough, it was. His scarred face, and tight-shut eyes. It haunts you everywhere you fucking go.

You hit the white plastic of the target, not even close to the drawn body of the thing. The Sergeant laughs from behind you and you toss your gun to the side, embarrassed and exhausted.

"Thank god this is just target practice, eh? You really did a number on 'em, probably killed em' with that fuckin' shot," he cackles as you walk past him and grab for the door handle, "Ay now, Soldier. Where do you think you're goin'?"

"Home, sir," you bluntly answered, too disappointed and spaced out to give a shit about your current ranking or the fucking novelty of the trade.

"You go home now, Soldier, and you're done," he barks, "You understand?"

"Yes, sir," you respond bluntly, swinging open the door and walking out with a huff.

You weren't one to disobey your orders. You weren't one to leave your post. You weren't one to quit. But, honest to god, if you had been put on the field the next day as planned, you would've thrown your un-armoured body against the first bullet shot.

Anything to see him again.

As you gathered your things from your locker and left the base, you could feel tears burning down your cheeks beneath your mask. You didn't sniffle, you didn't wipe them away. You didn't care. You just needed to be home. Being around this many guns, around a fucking armoury, couldn't be safe for you in this state. The morbid fascination you faced daily following Simon's death was nothing short of constant, but you were scared. What if he got into heaven, and you couldn't?

God, you just needed to go to bed.

You held your keys tight to your hand as you walked to the door of your apartment, the harsh metal breaking skin; not that you noticed, though. You turned the key and walked in, locking the door behind you and chucking your belongings onto the floor along with your shoes. You tore your mask from your face, and walked down the hall. As you made your way towards your bedroom, you noticed the familiar shine of your lamp seeping through the slightly ajar door.

Certain you hadn't left the light on yourself, much too weary of hydro costs, you quickly grabbed the gun from your safe. You hadn't even looked at the gun since that wretched day, untrusting in yourself and your thoughts, but with your job being what it was, you couldn't take any risks. You hold the gun tight to your side, slowly opening the door, and raising it to the dark figure sitting atop your bedsheets.

"Get the fuck out," you harshly whisper, "I don't have fucking time for this."

"Hi, darling," a familiar voice says as the figure turns his head.

Your heart nearly stops then. Your eyes meet the ghastly white of a skull mask, one you were all too accustomed to. You wrap your finger around the trigger, ready to end this sick joke immediately.

"I don't know who the fuck you are, or what the hell this is, but you need to go. Right fucking now," you bark, tightening your grip on the pistol.

"Y/N, please, put the gun down," the soft, British voice pleads.

"You're real fuckin' stupid if you think that's gonna happen."

You take a step inside the room, pressing the gun hard against his forehead as you take an unwavering breath.

"Make a move, and I swear to god, I will put a bullet in your brain," you mutter, "Who are you?"

"It's me, Y/N. I promise it's me," the man says, confident but composed, fully aware of the gun pressed between his eyebrows though seemingly unafraid of it.

"Is this some kind of sick joke? Hm? Putting a fucking widow through this?" you nearly yell as you press the barrel harder into his skull, causing him to wince, "You wanna beat me, interrogate me? Fucking fine, but this... this is sick. He's gone. I saw the body myself."

"Y/N, I-"

"Don't say my name," you snap, "Who fucking sent you, huh?"

"Love, please. Back up, let me take my mask off, yeah?" he asks, carefully lifting his hand to your wrist, tapping it gently in request.

"Don't fucking touch me. You're not him. God, when Price hears about this..." you dryly chuckle, trailing off when you notice a bump under one of his gloved fingers.

"Take your glove off," you demand, motioning your head towards it.

"Wha- I... Okay," he stammers, lifting both of his hands cautiously and removing both of the gloves. You grab his left hand, tugging off the band prominently placed on his ring finger. You raise it to your face, your other hand still firmly holding the gun to his head.

"Y/N L/N, in combat and in devotion," read the inside of the ring, matching the words circling the ring placed on your left hand in similarity.

"Where'd you get this?" you whispered, your once stern demeanour shifting into something much smaller; more pathetic.

"The pastor on our wedding day. Gaz got them made for us," he answers calmly.

You pull the gun off of him, raising your hands to your face and pressing your palms to your eyes as you turn around.

"What the fuck is going on?" you cry, hardly audible.

"Y/N, it's me. I'm so sorry," he whispers, shifting to stand.

"Sit the fuck down," you yell, "Take your mask off."

He nods, turning around to check the curtain is closed before gradually and carefully tucking two fingers under the hem of the mask, lifting it over his chin and nose.

You feel tears brim your lashes, slick to your under eyes as his mouth and nose come into view. It's like a b-roll as the mask is lifted higher and higher off his face; the scar on his right cheek, the dark war paint, his furrowed brows, his fluffy hair. He discards the mask, tossing it next to him and grabbing a makeup wipe from your bedside table to rid himself of the smeared paint around his blue eyes.

"See?" he says, a sad smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Your hands shake as they go to cover your mouth, holding in the deep wail threatening to pour from your lips as you sob. The man you loved so much, the man you fucking married, the man you buried just four months prior, was here; alive.

"Si," you whimper, throwing your full body weight onto him after placing the gun down, your thighs on either side of his hips as you wrap your arms so tight around his neck that he nearly chokes.

"Hi, Lovie," he whispers into your neck, wrapping his strong arms around you and pulling you close to him. You take in everything; his scent, the feel of him so close to you, his scruff against your jaw. All of the things you swore you'd never get to feel again, tucked between your limp arms.

"How could you fucking do this to me?" you croak, your throat raw as you slam your weakened fists against his vest-clad chest.

"I know, I know, darling," he says, pulling away just far enough that he could see your eyes, lifting your chin to look at him before holding your face between his strong hands, "I had no choice. Trust me, I wanted to come back to you the second it happened."

"Then why didn't you? Do you know what I've been through? Do you know what it's like to watch the love of your life get fucking buried?"

"No, I don't," he sighs, "but I do know what it's like being dead to you, literally and metaphorically, and that's nothing I ever wish to relive."

"So why'd you do it then? I can't fucking live without you, I tried to fucking kill myself just to see you again, Simon," you accidentally admit, tears falling off your face and down your neck.

"Oh, my love," he sighs, worry adamant in his gruff features as he gently caresses your hair, "I wish I could've called, sent a letter, fucking anything. I'm so, so sorry I put you through this."

"Tell me what happened, Si. Tell me there was a good reason you faked it all."

"Two of the opposing had intel on you. They must have seen you without your mask, or someone let something slip; I'm not sure. I got cornered by two of their men, and they gave me an ultimatum; Either I take the bullet, or they tell all divisions outside of 141 your identity. Knowing your past with OpFor, I couldn't let that happen - couldn't risk your safety. Soap shot both of them before I could say anything," he explains, never breaking eye contact.

"So, they're both dead. Why did you have to-"

"There's more," he says, taking your hands in his, "There was only one other opposition out there who knew about you, and I couldn't come out of hiding until I was sure he was dead, so I faked my death under Price's orders to give us more time and to keep you safe. As long as this guy knew I was alive, he wouldn't have let it rest until he ruined you. This guy was good - stealthy, and stayed hidden. I knew you were safe as long as I was out of the picture, and that's all that mattered to me."

"Oh my god," you whimper, the tears seeming to be endless, "Please tell me you caught him? I can't risk losing you again."

"He's gone, baby. We caught him. I wouldn't have come back if I knew it could put you in jeopardy," he softly smiles, wiping your tears away with his thumb once more as you slowly smile.

"Si-" you choke out, a look of realization crossing your soft features.

"Yeah, love?" he asks, concerned.

"I'm so sorry, I-" you sob, unable to get the words out, choking on your own tears.

"Baby, baby. Shh," he coos, trying to stop you from hyperventilating, "What on earth are you apologizing for?"

"I was so angry at you. I- I was so mean. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have blamed you," you mutter, letting your forehead fall against his.

"Oh, my love. It's okay. I can't even imagine what you've been through over the last four months. I don't know what I'd ever do if I lost you," he admits, grabbing at the nape of your neck gently as his eyes flutter shut.

"It was hell. I walked out of target practice today. I can't even aim anymore. I don't think Sergeant is gonna let me back," you confess.

"He'll let you back, baby. Price and Soap both know what happened, and we've all got your back, okay?" he says, gently rubbing along the back of your head.

“I don’t even care if he does, I’m just- I only care about you; about you being here,” you softly smile, wrapping your arms tighter around him as you sniffle.

“There’s that pretty smile,” he whispers, “I missed that face of yours so much.”

“You can’t even begin to understand how much I missed you,” you say, gently kissing his soft lips, “I thought I’d never get to do that again.”

“‘M not goin’ anywhere baby. Never again,” he murmurs, kissing you back, “I couldn’t bare knowing how much I’ve hurt you again.”

“I love you, Simon,” you whisper, the words rolling off your tongue like an oath, like a god damn prayer.

“I love you, too.”

You know it’s more than just words; it’s a promise. He’s yours.

#cod mw2 #cod modern warfare #ghost simon riley #ghost #simon riley #smut #cod smut

[lostbetweenvampiresandmusic]

Oceans of time (part 2)

Laddie asks David how he turned into a vampire. (Dracula a/u).

Part 1 Part 3

------------------------

September, 1897

"With sorrow, we are forced to let you return to the earth, dear Lucinda," the minister spoke with a solemn, heavy voice. David had stopped listening a long time ago. The words didn't matter. They couldn't bring her back. Mia stood next to him, trying her best to hold herself together. The others had moved to the back of the crowd, not wanting to be seen if they she'd a tear. Mia held his hand, and he gave her a soft squeeze. He looked down to the ground, ignroing the ramblings of the priest. It was only after the service ended that he looked up again when he saw a young gentleman standing in front of them. He was dressed in all black, a high tophay covering his face in shadows.

"You must be David. I'm Arthur Holmwood." He said, a faint accent audible in his voice. He reached out a gloved hand but pulled it back when he realised that the man in front of him had no intention of shaking it.

David looked at the man and noticed that if he hadn't been struck with grief, he'd have a hard time fighting off the attention of many a young girl. That was, of course, if the circumstances were different. The next couple of months, the man would be in mourning, and not a single proper lady would go after him during that time. Arthur bowed his head to Mia, having seen her once before in quick passing. Only Mia noticed that his look lingered on her, just for a moment.

"Sorry for your loss."

David straightened, ready to go, when he felt a hand - not his sister's - resting on his arm. "Please, no one told me anything. I would like to know how my Lucinda died."

"Sir, you really don't want to." It was Dwayne who spoke up, having joined the trio. Most people had left the churchgrounds already. "Keep her memory as she was. Don't torment yourself."

Arthur sighed, shaking his head. "You don't understand. Something haunted me, back in London. When I got here, I was certain I had left it behind - but now I'm afraid Lucy has fallen victim to the monster. And I am afraid that her young friend might be next."

Mia frowned, paling slightly. "What do you mean?" But before Arthur could answer, he was already grabbed by his collar.

"Are you threatening my sister?" David's voice was low and quite dangerous - and if Arthur hadn't dealt with these horrors back in Europe, he would have been taken aback. He understood - God how he understood the need to protect the ones someone cared about. But how do you tell someone that there is nothing you can do when it is the devil himself you're fighting?

"I'm warning you. Gather some crucifixes, garlic, and holy water. Don't ever leave your sister alone. If that monster laid his eyes on her, if he followed Lucinda and me here, and saw her-" he pointed at Mia, "Then she is in mortal danger."

With those words, he left, and David immediately turned to his sister. She seemed frozen in place, her hands trembling slightly.

"We- we can all agree that these were just the insane ramblings of a man struck mad with grief, right?" She asked, her eyes slightly widened. "He- he-" Tears welled up in her eyes. "Oh god, did he mean I would end up like her?"

David pulled Mia close to him, holding her as she cried. "You will have nothing to worry about. We'll make sure nothing happens to you." He shared a look with the boys. They couldn't lose someone else. And they definitely would not lose her.

Santa Carla, 1987

"That's scary," Laddie said quietly. He held his teddybear tightly, playing with the ears.

"Yeah."

"So what did you do?"

"We went to Max."

"Wait, is that the same-" the kid frowned, looking at David. Surely it couldn't be, right?

"Yeah. Couldn't get rid of him after all he'd done. Besides, he has his uses."

"Like letting me watch movies!" Laddie grinned, causing David to chuckle. "Did he know what was wrong with her?"

"Yeah. Sometimes, I wish he hadn't, though. Would have made everything a lot easier. She would still be alive if he hadn't known."

October, 1897

"It's so good to meet you, dear," Max greeted the young girl standing between the streetgang he came to employ for everything he could. "I do apologise for not taking this more seriously sooner."

Mia didn't answer. She had been feeling rather weak lately, and she was quite certain that if Dwayne and Paul hadn't held on to her, she would have fallen to the ground. Ever since the funeral, she had been having nightmares - which Marko had noted was eerily similar to what Lucinda had been going through. Besides that, she kept on getting sicker with the day. She'd become paler than ever before, having little to no energy, and lately, even sunlight began to be a discomfort for her.

"Before we begin, I'd need a name and an age. Documentation, you see."

"Mia. I'm seventeen."

Max nodded, writing something down before starting an examination. He flashed a bright light over her eyes, asked her some basic questions about her health- and after fifteen minutes he sighed, and sat down.

"I like to try something unconventional." He looked at David and the others. "Somehow, she's dealing with a lack of blood, and I need to know why. I think hypnosis might help to discover what is causing this." David nodded, wondering whether it should be a what or a who that Max was looking for. After all, Arthur Holmwood had warned him against this strange monster that followed him back to here. But surely, that couldn't be real, right?

"Mia?" Marko looked at her. She shrugged. She just wanted to feel better.

"Oh no, I don't need her permission, not really anyway. It's her guardian who has to agree. So, David, what do you say? You are her guardian after all, no?"

David nodded. With him being five years older, he had made sure to get custody of her after their parents died. "The second she says she's uncomfortable, you stop. Got it?"

Max just grinned, telling Mia to lay down. He talked to her about opening her mind, about listening to the rhythm of the clock, and letting the ticking slowly guide her away and deeper and deeper into her subconscious. Worried, David looked at her, seeing how she fell deeper and deeper under the man's spell.

"You're asleep in your room, what do you hear?"

She was quiet for a moment before she spoke. It was barely louder than a whisper. "A tapping. Someone's rapping at the window."

"What do you do?"

"She - she calls me. She wants to be let in. She wants to come home."

"Who does?"

"She's hungry, starving," Mia's body shuddered. "She says I need to help her."

"Who is talking to you?"

"Lucy says I can help. She says he needs me. She gets in and -" Mia froze, as if in horendous pain, a silent scream escaping from her lips.

A book fell from the table in the room, and suddenly, Mia woke up from her hypnosis.

"What happened?" She asked quietly, looking at the shocked faces of her brothers. No one answered, but Dwayne moved to sit next to her. The room was quiet for a moment before Max spoke.

"I am afraid I do have to ask this. How long ago did you bury your friend?"

"Two weeks." David spoke, not sure where Max was going with this. The older man nodded, sighing softly.

"In order to prove my diagnosis, I want to meet the four of you at the cemetery this evening. There is something you will need to see."

"We won't leave Mia alone," Paul said. "Not when she's ill."

"As long as you leave her in a room guarded with garlic and crucifixes, she should be safe. If she were to come along, she'd be at immediate risk."

Santa Carla, 1987

"Mia was sick like Lucy?" Laddie had moved to lean against the cave wall, blankets wrapped around him.

"Yes. That evening we found out what it was."

"That a vampire attacked her?"

David nodded. "Yes."

"Lucy tricked her, didn't she?"

"Mia just wanted to help her. Little did we know that Lucy was also still being controlled. He was much worse."

"Did you go to the cemetery?"

David nodded, sighing. "Yeah. It was our biggest mistake."

"Why?"

"Because Mia had already invited the vampires in."

October, 1897

"We'll be back soon, alright?" David sat next to his sister, brushing some hair out of her face. She laid in bed, a plate with dinner standing on the sidetable next to her.

"Don't worry about me," she mumbled softly, already half asleep, "I'm fine."

David sighed, a soft smile playing on his lips. She wasn't fine. If he were to believe both Max and Arthur, she was in danger. Great danger. But he couldn't just tell her that, not if he didn't have the proof. Not if he didn't know why, or how, or what he and the boys could do to save her? He placed a crucifix in her hands, closing the window. On the windowsill, he placed some garlic plants, as advised, hoping it would work to protect her.

"Are you sure about this?" Paul asked as they left the house, pulling his coat close. It was chilly, especially now the sun had completely set.

"We have no choice. If we want to stop this shit from happening, we have to go." Dwayne said, taking a cigarette from his coat pocket.

The rest of the walk to the cemetery was quiet. No one spoke, each of them lost in their own thoughts. They were not ready to figure out what they were going to be seeing in the next couple of hours.

Max greeted them, handing each of them a stake and a cross. "You'll need this," was all he said, while he led them to the Westenra family tomb.

"Now you have seen your friend buried in this tomb, right?"

"What of it? We already talked about this." David shot him a look. Max just smirked, shaking his head slightly. "Just making sure we are all on the same page here. Now, gentlemen, when you enter the tomb, you should not be surprised to see an open, empty grave."

"And why is that?" Marko asked as he stepped in, taking a candle that was handed to him. As he shone it around the tomb he did, like Max warned, find an open casket. "What do you know about this?"

"Your friend Lucy is no longer a part of the living, nor is she truly dead."

"We saw her remains. She was completely ripped apart," Dwayne grimaced, "do you really mean to tell us that she is not dead?"

"Yes. She is not living, nor is she dead. She is what we call undead. A vampire."

"A what?" David glared at Max. "You think it is funny, don't you? Telling fucked up stories while our sister is dying?" He had pushed Max against the wall, stake in hand. Max didn't respond, only shushing him. "Listen!"

David quieted down. From outside the tomb, he heard the voice of a woman, soft and charming - and then the giggle of a child. The boys froze, Max springing into action. He waited, and it didn't take long before the woman stepped into the tomb. Even in the dim light from that one single candle, the woman was unmistakably Lucy. The same Lucy they had buried two weeks ago. A small child followed her as if he were in trance.

Lucy didn't notice them. She had only eyes for the child. "Come here," she said softly, and the kid obeyed. Lucy grinned, picking him up, bending his head to the side so she had access to his neck, and - she was about to bite down when she suddenly screamed. She dropped the child, growling as she turned around. Max had staked her. Mid turn Lucy fell tonthe ground, screaming and crying, twisting and turning, until all that was left of her was a sad pile of bones.

"What was that?" Paul and Marko spoke at the same time.

"That was how you kill a vampire. Believe me when I say that this is the kind of monster you're dealing with."

David nodded, sighing as he realised what needed to be done. "We need to find out who turned her."

"Yes," Max agreed, "but for now, you boys will have to go home and take care of your sister. I will make sure this young lad will be returned home safely."

They expected the house to be quiet when they got home. Instead, they heard voices coming from the bedroom.

"Please, please don't do this."

"My dear childe, you'll be healthy once again," a male spoke, his voice low. "I will protect you from the dangers of the world, I will worship you, obey you - as you will me."

"No, please, I dont-"

David pushed the door open. A tall, handsome man stood in front of his sister, his shirt ripped open and chest bleeding. The man forced Mia to lick up the blood, to consume it, while he bit down on her wrist.

David stood there frozen, not sure what to do, how to help his sister. It was Dwayne who sprung into action, pushing the man away from Mia. He tried to stake the man, still having the stake from the cemetery, but he was roughly thrown against the wall as the vampire laughed.

"You're no match for me," the stranger grinned, "soon your dear Mia will be mine. She will be perfect." He moved to stroke the girls hair, but she was quickly pulled away.

"Get away from my sister, " David growled, moving her behind him. "I'll fucking kill you."

The vampire just laughed, disappearing in a clowd of smoke. The moment he disappeared, Mia fell to the ground. She was unconscious, covered in both her own and the vampires blood.

#the lost boys #marko #david #paul #tlb #dwayne #the lost boys 1987 #tlb 1987 #the lost boys x reader #lost boys

[yermes]

PAC: 🦈

Since my favorite thing ever is talking about myself let me tell y abt my week. 🩷 my birthday was Monday and was also the start of the hardest training block this summer so I was MIA and just dead all week. Then shark week started (my period) before we climbed the hardest climb in the state (12th hardest in the country) where I literally FELL OFF MY BIKE and had to jump back on at the steepist part and it was so steep for so long I couldn’t run up or down to a flat I had to free ball it. Literally the whole week was an absolute struggle and now we have an extra day off and im laying in bed abt to make a iced coffee but complaining rn is way more important 🩷. You may be at a steep part of your life and fallen off your bike but HERE ARE SOME WAYS YOU CAN GIDDY UP.

Pick a meme

Pick a card

Seven of Pents 🦑

Netzach, Lord of Success Unfulfilled

You had your hopes high and they fell to the floor and were crushed under foot. Any small gain had no lasting benefit. You wasted your time. You sit looking at how much you have to climb and your broken bike. But even still. You made it this far. You had some small goal and you accomplished that? Break things up into small segments. Firstly, get back on the bike. Second, get both of your feet strapped in the pedals. Thirdly, get your rhythm going again. Fourth, inch more and more ahead each time. Do not look back. Learn from failures and keep moving.

Prince of cups 🪼

21° lib 20° scorp, Air in the waters of Binah, Tiphareth

Use the combination of spirit and soul and lift others up to lift yourself up. Im sorry bitch but when you hit the ground like that and your head is swimming with cruelty at yourself fake it till you make it. Be positive and courageous till you can do it for real. Be bigger than your circumstances which I know is hard but put your game face on and fight through the emotional pain to feel that compassion and warmth at the end.

Four of wands (reversed) 🦞

Chesed, Lord of Perfected Work, Venus 3. in Aries, 20°–30°. Angels Nanael and Nithal

Girl you fell off your bike hard and now you are nervous. You feel rushed and anxious and backed into a corner. You feel like you need to make a rash decision. But calm down. It’s perfectly normal that once you fall you let out a scream and you are shaky getting back up. Once you gather your nerves look and see how you can actually get on and stay on. Don’t feel anxious just take the time you need do. Not. Be. Rash.

Princess of wands 🐅

Venus in the fire signs, Earth in the fires of Aziluth, Malkuth

Use the physical hurt as fuel for your fire and let that fire under your ass make you kick it into high gear. You have an unstable hunger to finish what you started do not let this physical set back stunt you mentally. Use this hiccup as fuel and fucking book it.

#suitlifeofgerm #askgerm #still looking for a sugar daddy to buy me vintage tarot decks #pick a card #daily card #pick a picture #magic #shadow work #pac #tarotoftheday #germ reads #tarot #tarot cards #divination #cartomancy #witch #beginner witch

[the-faketiccit0by]

MONTY AND LUNAR AU (Sorry didn't mean to yell) So effectively Lunar isn't made of nano goop Right? He gets hurt, badly, Falling off the catwalk in gator golf. Monty effectively looses their shit, all sense of reasoning goes out the fucking window, So they take parts off of Sun, Moon, Bloody, hell, Even eclipse (who doesn't have the star at this point in time) and Rebuilds Lunar. Suns eye shoved into Lunars damaged socket, Moons leg replacing the mangled mass of plastic and metal, Bloodmoons hands, and A few of Suns rays to cover some particularly bad gashes all along Lunars face. Monty removes every reflective surface they have, covers Lunars 'new' limbs up with gloves and Longer pants as well as a shirt that Lunar couldn't take off and tells Lunar that his new limbs are sensitive so it would be safest to keep the clothes on. Lunar eats it up because why would Monty lie to him? Eventually Lunar meets Foxy who is, rightfully, concerned about Lunars state and asks what happened to his face. Lunar doesn't know what Foxy is talking about and before Foxy can go get a mirror hes dragged off by Monty and sternly told that if he so much as breaths a word about Lunars new... accessories Monty will slowly break him down and use him for parts. Lunar goes back to the daycare to look for his brothers, then Panics when he cant find them, Calls for the Computer who wont answer then runs back to gator golf in hopes that Monty Is also there. Monty assures Lunar that his brothers will turn up soon. Every time Lunar find out about his condition and what exactly happens to his brothers, Monty removes the memory (They don't want Lunars Mind completely gone) effectively resetting this morbid game, Lunar finds out once again, and is quickly told by Foxy to not go running to Monty about it. It then becomes a race against time to figure out where the star is, and how Lunar can fix everything before Monty finds out and resets Lunars memory's again. Eclipse has been humbled enough to help as well (also peeved by Monty's actions) and wouldn't mind a whole redo on the big brother role. Earth is (obviously) still intact and helps kinda knock Monty down, trying to figure out where exactly they are keeping the star and how she can prevent this from happening again. All while keeping Monty out of the loop on whats going on, they daycare's still being running as well and Its much harder when your 3ft tall and you and your sister have little to no experience dealing with the whole daycare by yourself, Sun had split apart the daycare lists and children evenly among the three of them, and now both were trying to juggle their tasks and Suns while the Moon, Sun, and the Bloodmoon twins are MIA.

I'm going to be writing this soon on ao3, after I'm done with my current story I just wanted another persons thoughts on it.

Damn I don't think I've gotten something in my inbox this big... Congrats sir/madam/person you get the crown 👑👑👑

#sun and moon show #sams

[spidermanscientistsimp]

mamma mia!

miguel o’hara x performer! reader

author’s note: okay, i’m sorry, this is lowkey a really stupid idea but WHO KNOWS, maybe people will really like it :)) i was going to make a really long fic, but i’m splitting it into multiple parts, with the second one maybe coming out tonight (if y’all enjoy it!). there’s not a lot of RoMaNcE this first chapter, pretty much just scenario setting and character background stuff ❤️❤️❤️

•

“what the HELL am i doing??” miguel pondered as he looked into his mirror. the fearless protector of the multiverse, the spider person to end all other spider people, and the man whom everyone believed was a hollow, shell of himself, was spraying cologne all over his body, sweating up a storm. he was on his way to the theatre on earth 441, something very unlike him, in his finest crimson suit and tie, stressing over every little detail about his appearance. he didn’t know WHY he was so worked up about this night. YOU clearly wouldn’t care. YOU clearly wouldn’t see him in the crowd of thousands… and yet- he hoped. he hoped he could mend things, the damage he had done and make you notice him without a scowl on your face. he missed your smile, and would give the moon and stars to see you beam at him just one more time. the chances of this however were, to put it quite plainly, impossible… and still, miguel ignored odds for the first time in his life, and was swiftly transported to your universe.

•

“charlie, how many minutes do we have until curtain??” you whispered to the elderly stage manager, tying your hair back and trying not to mess up your mic.

“about twenty miss y/n”, the kind man replied, putting a hand on your shoulder kindly, recognizing your nerves.

“perfect, thanks a bunch,” you replied as you trotted swiftly in your heels towards the closed curtain. your line of sight was limited, of course, but it appeared that there was a full house out there.

“well of course there’s a full house, this is broadway after all… nobody knows who you are, no one is judging you y/n l/n”, you reassured yourself. and still… you were terrified. your dream was to sing, to dance, to make millions of people happy. and yet… you still felt like something was missing. was it…. NO. not HIM. you were about to perform for all of new york city, and you did NOT need thoughts of your ex-lover running through your head. he was done. you were done. y’all were done. period.

“PLACES EVERYONE!” charlie yelled, and beckoned you towards the wings, nearly ready to start the show. you zipped offstage, about to grab your prop suitcase and cross to the other side, when you heard your name being called so softly by the man who had known you since you were nothing but a quiet, ambitious girl in manhattan.

“miss y/n… i just wanted to let you know- i’m so proud of you, really. and, your daddy would be so proud too, i just know it. i’m sorry i-”

“damn it charlie”, you thought to yourself as you felt a few tears slip down your face, and you embraced the elderly tech, cutting off his sentence, while muttering a soft “thank you”, before skittering away, wiping your eyes as you went. “this is my big DEBUT, AND I’M NOT HAVING MY MAKEUP RUNNING DOWN MY FACE BEFORE I EVEN START, NOOOO M’AAM”, you yelled at yourself internally as the orchestra began playing, the lights began to illuminate the hardwood stage, and you stepped into the false sunshine, ready to do what you believed you were meant to do. you were going to leave everything out on that stage even if it killed you. but what may have ACTUALLY killed you was the fact that your ex-boyfriend was out in the audience, hand covering his mouth, thinking you were just as beautiful as the day you left him.

#miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel spiderman #miguel x reader #miguel spiderverse #miguel #miguel ohara #x reader #x reader female #atsv miguel #miguel x you #miguel x y/n #spiderman #spiderman atsv #spiderverse #fanfic #across the spiderverse

[crowtrobotx]

As promised, for my beloved Heisenmoots, I have written a little something. Just a little extra. A little bit of Ethan suffering because he has to be friends with the worst old man on earth for the sake of Rose. As a treat. <3 This was kind of hastily written as an introduction to a modern/no village AU - if people like it I will happily add continuations to this and make it a little side series, just for yucks. I hope you enjoy and I love you all a disgusting amount. Title: A Rose and A Butterfly Word count: 3478 Characters: Ethan Winters, Rose Winters, Mia Winters, Karl Heisenberg, fem!OC, daughter!OC Warnings: None (unless you’re not cool with cursing)

When Rose came home and excitedly announced that she’d made a new friend, Ethan Winters couldn’t have been happier. He worried excessively about her at the best of times. With the move to a new town after Mia’s recent job change, he knew that they risked making her already precarious social situation even more fragile. Rose had struggled with forming lasting relationships at her old school, due in no small part to the rampant bullying that seemed to have gone unchecked by every single adult responsible for her with Ethan and Mia weren’t present. Perhaps it was a good thing that they all were getting a fresh start. Still, Ethan had tried not to let his expectations run too high. This had happened before, after all. Sometimes it turned out the other kid or kids in question were lying, pulling off some elaborate scheme to just break her heart in the end. Other times they simply drifted apart, deciding that they didn’t want to associate with someone so far down in the social pecking order. From his vantage point, Ethan was pretty sure being a young girl sounded like the most miserable, complicated experience he could imagine.

Fortunately, this time was different. He pulled up to the pick up location outside of the small town’s middle school to see Rose waiting with a much shorter, stockier girl, dark hair wrangled into two messy buns atop her head. There was a woman standing next to them who looked like she was probably her mother, given how their wild curls matched and the way Rose’s friend kept throwing her a pleading look that Ethan recognized well as the please, I’ll never ask for anything ever again I swear face. He rolled down the window of his SUV and waved politely at the two strangers.

“Dad!” Rose shouted excitedly. “This is my friend Lottie! Can I go over to her house?”

Before Ethan could even open his mouth to respond, Lottie had bounded up to the side of the vehicle and was peering up at him with a fiery gaze. “My mom already said yes,” she explained with a firm nod. “I promise we’re not a family of serial killers. Papa’s fridge in the garage is busted anyway, nowhere to store the organs.”

“Jesus - Lottie. Back up, sweetheart.”

Her mother urged her back onto the sidewalk and approached, laughing awkwardly. She reminded Ethan a bit what he imagined a cool art teacher would look like, with her leather jacket and dark jeans contrasted by several loud, colorful accessories. He could see a couple of tattoos poking out from under her clothes and the glint of a septum piercing flashed in the autumn sunshine. She lowered her voice and scratched the back of her neck, looking apologetic.

“I’m sorry, she’s–”

“She’s fun,” Ethan said with a sincere laugh. He could tell why they got along already - Rose had a wicked sense of humor and Lottie had already made it known that she lacked a filter. “I’m Ethan. I hear our daughters are friends.”

“Kris,” the woman’s shoulders relaxed at last. “I know you don’t know me, or my demon child, but I’m totally fine with Rose coming over. You wanna follow me so you know where she is? We can exchange numbers there.”

Rose practically buzzed with excitement the entire drive. It made Ethan nearly want to cry. The poor kid had been through so much - he had done all he could to protect her and nurture her, as had Mia - but there came a point when the world inevitably sunk its claws in and all he could do was sit back and pray that he’d equipped her properly to fight her battles. So lost in thought he was as they drove to a wooded, semi-rural area nearly at the city limits that he didn’t notice Kris’s “How am I driving? I’m not. This vehicle is driven by 700 rats.” bumper sticker until they’d nearly arrived.

Okay, this family was a teensy bit eccentric. It was fine. Rose seemed happy, that’s all that mattered. Kris appeared to be a perfectly competent person and the way his daughter talked about her friend (and how she’d decked a kid twice her size who’d said something nasty to Rose), he had no reason to think these weren’t decent people.

After pulling down the driveway to the house, obscured entirely from the road by thick trees, Lottie and Rose bounded out of their respective vehicles to meet on the lawn and whisper excitedly about whatever little plans they’d concocted. They ignored Ethan’s inquiries about any homework that needed done before scurrying up to the wide, covered porch. Ethan heard a dog barking excitedly when the front door opened, followed by Rose’s giggling and Lottie yelling “Sturm! Get down! You big idiot…”

“I’m sorry about the rusted out cars and shit out back,” Kris said, appearing at his side and gesturing to a rather impressive pile of junk partially visible behind the house. “My husband is a mechanic. He keeps swearing he’s gonna restore that crap or at least break it down for parts but I think aliens will invade before that happens. I promise the inside of the place doesn’t look like that - despite his best efforts.”

Ethan smiled. “Oh, it’s fine. You should see what my living room looks like when my wife decides to go on one of her crafting sprees.” Of course, a bunch of rusting metal that looked like a tetanus amusement park was a little different from a bunch of paper scraps and glue, but who was counting. “A mechanic, huh? We’re new in town. Would be nice to know a guy who could take a look at our cars. He any good?”

Ethan had said the last part as a joke.

“Oh, he sucks.” Ethan gaped. Kris smirked, looking fondly toward the garage. “I mean, he’s good at what he does. Really good. But he’s a cranky weirdo with the social skills of a feral raccoon. And yet, he’s my feral raccoon. I’ll make sure he fixes your shit if you ever need it.”

If the girls hadn’t already gone inside, Ethan might have considered suddenly remembering a very important engagement that he and Rose absolutely had to attend under any circumstances. His anxieties were quelled slightly over the next few minutes while he and Kris dissolved into pleasant small talk - he had the feeling she and Mia might get along well. They exchanged phone numbers and agreed upon a pickup time, Ethan insisting that she didn’t need to drive over and drop her off after offering to make dinner and ensure that any school projects got done.

“Better make sure that nothing’s on fire yet inside,” Kris said before bidding him farewell and disappearing through a side door.

Ethan stood still for a moment, trying to dispel his ever-present worry. He eventually took a few paces toward the car before, in the silence that followed Kris and the girls’ departure, he noticed the sound of a radio emanating from the garage. It was what Rose affectionately referred to as dad rock; this time it was “Fortunate Son” by Creedence Clearwater Revival. And it was loud. He supposed they didn’t really have to worry about bothering any neighbors out here, but he was almost offended on behalf of the local wildlife.

I should introduce myself, Ethan thought. It was only polite - his daughter was probably going to be coming over to the man’s house with regularity. Kris had made him sound like a curmudgeon, but Ethan was used to that sort of thing at work. At least half of the people who contacted his department were old guys who felt emasculated by the fact that they couldn’t figure out how to convert a Word document into a PDF.

He could handle him. How bad could he be?

As Ethan drew closer to the garage, he became aware of the sound of - and he didn’t use this word lightly - utterly horrific, off-tune singing accompanied by the light tink tink of someone trying to drum along in time with a wrench. He couldn’t see anyone through all the stacked up boxes, car parts and frankly odd bits and bobs - the whole place looked like it was one small seismic event from collapsing. Not to mention that the place smelled like a combination auto body shop and cigar emporium. He wasn’t sure what was more polite - to yell a greeting over the cacophony, or to quietly enter and risk scaring the man.

He opted for the former. “Hello? Mr. Uh. Lottie’s dad? Sir?” Ethan grimaced at his own unwieldy introduction.

The radio almost instantaneously shut off, followed by a frankly eerie silence. Ethan froze. He cleared his throat, trying to sound as pleasant as possible despite feeling like he’d just walked into a horror movie set. “I’m Rose’s dad? Lottie’s friend? I just dropped her off and wanted to–”

The hidden man poked his welding mask-clad head around the corner at last. His shoulder-length gray hair had frizzed in every direction, looking like the world’s dirtiest halo. He seemed to give Ethan a once over before lifting the mask up, grinning maniacally through his unkempt beard.

“Oh, so you’re Butterfly’s friend’s papa! Didn’t realize you were coming over! Have a seat over here, don’t be shy!”

Ethan was taken aback. This wasn’t the grouchy old man he’d been anticipating - he’d thoroughly expected to exchange a few manly grunts with him before retreating home to nurse a bottle of merlot and feel like he’d been chastised by his peepaw.

“Come on, come on, don’t got all day.”

Ah. There it was.

Ethan squeezed himself through the mess until he found a blessedly semi-clear space, complete with workbench and a couple of metal chairs. He could see now that the man had been working deep in an old car’s engine, and a pretty one at that. He couldn’t quite discern the make and model - a Firebird, perhaps? - but even in the low light he could see the cherry red paint, dashboard hula girl and goofy, fuzzy dice hanging in the rearview mirror. Ethan may not have been a big car guy but he knew a man’s baby when he saw one.

Lottie’s father leaned against the hood, arms crossed over a Def Leppard t-shirt that had seen better days, the print faded so much as to be near unrecognizable. Ethan sat down awkwardly in front of the workbench, charmed to see that in addition to the scattered blueprints and scribbled notes, there was an abundance of crayon drawings done no doubt by Lottie and pictures of her pinned everywhere on the corkboard hanging overhead. There were a couple of photos of him and his wife together, a couple magazine cutouts of antique vehicles, but to see this stereotypical looking man’s man dominate his space with pictures of and done by an 11 year old girl was strangely endearing.

“So,” the mechanic purred, “Lottie’s told me your girl and her are pals. Which means you and I have some bonding to do.”

“I guess so,” Ethan laughed, still somewhat wary. “I’m Ethan Winters. Rose is my daughter - we just moved here from the city a few months ago.”

“Heisenberg,” the man waved a hand, almost sounding bored. “Karl Heisenberg. I’m the poor asshole everyone around here calls when their shit breaks.”

“Yeah, Kris told me that you were a mechanic. I hope this isn’t presumptuous, but I’d love for you to take a look at my SUV when you have a chance - it started making this weird clunking noise when we were halfway through moving.”

“You met my wife?”

“I did, she–”

“Don’t get any ideas.”

Ethan laughed. Karl did not. This man is insane.

“I– uh, I wasn’t planning on it,” Ethan cleared his throat. He was frantically looking around now for the quickest exit, lest he end up on this week’s latest unexplained disappearance crime report. “We met up at school when the girls were out and we exchanged phone numbers just so we could coordinate play dates. I’m happily married myself, I assure you.”

At last, the mechanic’s serious face broke into a grin again.  “ Hah! Look at your face. Oh, calm down - I’m just yankin’ your leg. I know you’re not here for any nefarious purposes. You’d be pig slop in seconds if  you ever tried anything.” Ethan did not want to know what that meant. “You want a beer, Winters?”

Jesus, yes. Ethan nodded. “That would be great, thanks… Karl.”

Karl handed him an open, half drunk can of PBR that was sitting on a nearby stool. He fished around in the broken fridge Lottie had mentioned earlier, helping himself to a fresh one. Ethan stared at the can in his hand, wondering privately when the cast from Punked! was going to burst through the door.

“Yeah, my Lottie said your Rose was having problems with one of the local asshole kids,” Karl said thoughtfully, as if what he’d just done wasn’t incredibly bizarre and off-putting. “What’s her name, Alice? Always thought that kid was a dick. I’ve taught Butterfly from the day she could talk to hit first, ask questions later. Might not be the popular parenting technique these days, but I don’t want her ever taking shit from someone who she wouldn’t go to for advice. Sounds like your kid’s been having some problems.”

Ethan thumbed the beer tab, unsure of how much he wanted to disclose to this relative stranger. “We’ve had to move a few times because of her mom’s job,” he explained. “It’s been hard on her. I worry. This is the first time Rosie’s had a friend last more than a few weeks.”

Karl raised an eyebrow. “Lottie’s a good kid. She ain’t gonna give your precious Rose grief unless she deserves it. By the way, what’s the deal? She stayin’ overnight or what?”

“It’s a Tuesday,” Ethan blinked. “School night? I wasn’t planning on it. Kris– uh, your wife said she’d give them dinner and then I was gonna come back around 7:30. If that’s alright?”

“Fine fine,” Karl took a swig from his can before swaggering over to an open toolbox, fishing through a massive selection of nuts and bolts. “Tuesday’s our movie night. Just wanted to make sure you’re not gonna be throwing off my plans. I’ve been working on this new popcorn machine prototype - those assholes at the patent office never appreciate my genius - that’s shaped like a dragon. It breathes popcorn out of its mouth like fire - fuckin’ sick, Winters. I think I fixed a little bug it had where it would, ah, also spew boiling hot butter into your face at the same time. Shame, that. Just because of a little thing like third degree burns, innovation stagnates.”

“Why.” Ethan stared. “Why… would someone want that?”

“Why wouldn’t they?” Karl snarled, clearly offended. “You haven’t touched your drink I gave you, by the way.”

Ethan really needed to leave - Mia was probably wondering where on earth he was. He felt like he’d been hit by a bus, in all honesty. He’d gone from ecstatic to hear of Rose’s new friendship, to somewhat worried at her going to a new place, to simultaneously terrified and fascinated to meet the people he’d likely have to make nice with for his daughter’s sake. He wasn’t about to jeopardize the first good thing in her life in what felt like eternity, but he also had zero desire to spend any more time than necessary with this bizarre man he was getting extreme stoner uncle with a criminal history vibes from.

Mercifully, the tension was broken by an excited, high-pitched voice from outside.

“Papa! Look what Rose showed me!”

Lottie zipped through the maze of the garage with practiced ease, not paying any mind to Ethan. Karl’s face morphed from suspicious irritation to soft delight so quickly that it seemed like an entirely different man was standing in the room now, casting aside his drink to intercept his daughter and hoist her up into an affectionate embrace. Lottie shoved an item that Ethan recognized to be Rose’s small, engraved knife - a gift from Chris, one that had been entirely unnecessary but remained a prized possession nevertheless - into his face.

“Ah, she just has that in case of emergencies–” Ethan felt the need to explain, lest he look like a maniac in front of the actual maniac. He didn’t necessarily like that his daughter carried it around, but he also didn’t love the idea of her being completely unarmed in case of an emergent situation. His own life experiences had taught him that preparedness was far preferable to playing it safe, even if it wasn’t the way things should be.

“Fuckin’ cool,” Karl grinned like a madman again. “Too bad Mama won’t let you have one, huh? I’ll keep workin’ at her - don’t worry. Looks like plain old Ethan is more exciting than we thought.”

“Plain?” Ethan stammered.

Rosemary appeared at last, casting her father a hesitant smile. “We weren’t doing anything weird, I promise. Mrs. Heisenberg sent us outside because she uhm, she said she wanted to make sure Lottie’s dad wasn’t ‘terrorizing’ you.”

Karl feigned a look of hurt. “I can’t believe she’d ever believe me capable of such a thing! Oh, well. Never fear, Rose - your dad was just leaving, wasn’t he? And in one piece at that. You can assure the missus that nothing bad happened. We’re bros now, right? Ethan? Bros?”

“Papa,” Lottie rolled her eyes.

“We are not bros,” Ethan answered far, far too quickly. “Ah. Not yet.” Please god, not ever. “But, yes, I was just leaving. Thank you for looking after Rose. I’ll be back in a few hours. Unless you want to be picked up early?” He tried not to look too desperate while he waited for his daughter’s response.

“No, I’m good staying for dinner!” Rose rocked on her heels anxiously. “C’mon, Lottie, we better finish that science project so we can get to Mario Kart.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Lottie groaned, resigned. “Papa, will you play with us later? When you’re done?”

Karl smirked, setting her down and giving a fiendish wink. “Only if you kids want your asses kicked.”

“Papa, you’ve literally never won–”

“Bye, girls!” he hummed happily. “Better get some practice in if you wanna have a prayer!”

The daughters exchanged a look before giggling at some secret joke and sprinting off again, leaving the two men in awkward silence again. Ethan stood, trying to think of a decent way to bid Karl farewell without expressing just how deranged he’d found this whole encounter. Fortunately for him, the mechanic spoke first, in a tone that seemed wholly different from their earlier interactions.

“They’re the best, huh? Those little girls. I’d raze a whole village to the ground if Lottie asked me to.”

Ethan blinked, taken aback. “I’d do the same for Rose,” he said without hesitation.

Karl looked back at him, oddly thoughtful for just long enough to be unnerving, before the demented sparkle returned to his eyes.

“So, anyway. When you come back to pick her up later, there’s this toaster I’ve been trying to modify that I want you to look at. To get the “every man” perspective or whatever. Ignore the fact that it sometimes talks about wondering if it has a soul or whatever, I’ll patch that out.”

“Oh, well see,” Ethan began walking back to his car at an unashamedly brisk pace. “Rose has a doctor’s appointment in the morning and I really shouldn’t linger. In fact, it might be my wife who comes and picks her up depending on how the yard work I’ve got piling up goes. But next time!”

Please let ‘next time’ be Rose’s graduation and no sooner.

“Winters! Hey! Get back here - ah, fuck you too. I’ll get your address from your wife and bring it over this weekend if tonight isn’t good! Are you even listening to me–”

Ethan Winters had never received a speeding ticket in his life. But as he peeled out of the Heisenberg driveway, still clutching the half full beer can, he wondered if it wouldn’t be worth it to put as much distance between himself and that strange man as humanly possible.

“Whatever,” he finally exhaled when he saw the dim glow of the main body of town coming into view. “He’ll probably forget all about me after a day or two. It’ll be fine. This is for Rose, after all. I can handle Lottie’s upsetting dad if it benefits her. What’s the worst that could happen?”

We’re bros now, right?

Ethan downed the rest of the drink once he was safely back in his own garage. It was going to be a long, long school year.

#not putting in the main tags bc i feel like all the people who knew these characters/read my fic are already followers/moots #but feel free to rb!! or don't lol i feel like this isn't very good but oh well #i just think ethan and karl are served so well by a deranged platonic one sided bromance #it is my favorite dynamic for them and i would love to write more of it #actually you know what I am putting it in the main tags fuck it #Karl Heisenberg #karl heisenberg x oc #Karl heisenberg fanfiction

[milla984]

Like Water For His Fire

Summary: When Ram goes MIA you get nervous... but he's got a very good explanation and you can't really stay mad at him

Pairing: modern AU Ramaraju x fem!reader

Category: smut (NSFW, 18+, MDNI)

TW/CW: brief mention of anxiety, mentions of marking, kissing, unprotected penetrative sex

Word Count: 2k

7:56.

The sunset paints the sky orange red and from the bedroom window you can see its reflection on the surface of the nearby lake, as the evening breeze raises silvery ripples on the water. Adjusting the strap of Ram’s tank top on your shoulder you blow a strand of hair off your face then check your phone for what feels like the hundredth time: no texts. Zero missed calls.

“He’s fine, he’s fine,” you repeat under your breath.

You sit on the coverlet and hug his pillow. There’s usually something soothing about putting on his clothes or smelling his perfume - today, however, neither his old top nor the faint traces of his sandalwood and orange peel aftershave on the pillowcase prove to be very effective at keeping your anxiety under control.

You switch to a full alert state when you hear the entry door opening, followed by heavy footsteps. Seconds later Ram stands in front of you looking exhausted, his sleeves rolled up and the first buttons of his shirt undone, and collapses on his side of the bed.

“What happened? Are you okay?” you ask, still a bit nervous.

He nods in silent assent.    

“I tried to call you, why did you turn off your phone?” you ask again and he fumbles in his pocket to hold up the answer, shaped like an intricate spider web of cracks across the black screen.

“I’m getting in the car and this idiot does a swan dive into a puddle,” he explains, “fifteen minutes later I’m stuck in traffic in Madeenaguda. Damn road works!”

It takes a little bit longer than usual for your heart to stop pounding in your stomach and ears. He’s been late in the past but an hour of radio silence forced you to consider all sorts of horrible scenarios, and you need to clear your mind of their negative influence.

“In hindsight… not the best route choice,” he adds, noticing you’re being too quiet. “I didn’t mean to scare you, I’m sorry.”

You shrug: during off-peak hours the NH 65 is the fastest way back, meaning he was trying to come home as soon as he could. And it’s not his fault his phone died on him. “You know me, I worry too much.”

You also care a lot about him, which is why he doesn’t need to hear you live in constant fear of being contacted by the notification officer of his department - a possibility he’s even less likely to discuss than you are.

“Are we good?” he replies, lowering his thick lashes and giving you an innocent doe-eyed stare.

You can see where this is going: the simple thought of it erases all the previous distress and makes you weak at the knees. You throw the pillow at him, practicing your best impression of a seductive pout. “Mister, you’re the Police Guy… why don’t you figure it out?!”

Ram props himself up on one elbow so he can tuck a lock of hair behind your ear. He brushes his thumb across your lower lip, his personal way of telling you he gathered all the evidence that the mere sight of his forearms always lights you up like a neon sign powered by libido. You’re not mad at him - you’re horny for him.

Cheeky bastard.

Needless to say, his shirt has to go; you unfasten the entire row of buttons in a heartbeat and help him take it off. ‘Mouthwatering’ is the word to describe his bare chest, and how on earth does he manage to still look steaming hot after spending a full day at work and a ridiculous amount of time in his car is beyond you.

You nibble on his earlobe before you lick him below the jaw, descending along his Adam’s apple, the muscles of his neck and the dimple between the collarbones. 

You could spend the whole evening teasing his nipples, forced to contain the urge to sink your teeth into his skin because he’s so sensitive he would scream in pain if you bit him; his petite buds harden at the lightest touch so you circle the areolas with the tip of your tongue and suck delicately, twirling a few dark hairs on his navel around your fingers.

“I’m happy you’re here,” you whisper.

His palm caresses your nape, then his mouth reaches yours and you both engage in a playful competition for dominance: now that he’s in your arms you only want to hold him tight and tell him everything’s alright, but he’s impetuous and clings to you as if you’re pure spring water, bound to tame the fire raging inside of him.

There’s no doubt he figured out ages ago the main reason why you wear his clothes or hug his pillow if he’s away: you crave his body, his presence, his weight on top of you, and it isn’t just a matter of lust. He’s not used to be open and vocal about his feelings, nevertheless he’s proven multiple times he’s the kind of man who looks out for the important people in his life and you’re willing to do the same for him; you’ve become each other’s fulfillment of a mutual request for affection and the many positive aspects of your physical relationship are a reflection of a deeper bond.

It’s Ram who wins in the end and traps you under him. He doesn’t bother to take the old tank top off and lifts the hem up to reach your soft belly; once he glides past your mound of Venus you squirm in anticipation, almost hitting him in the chin.

He smirks and you’re tempted to slap the living hell out of him: being so fuckable should be declared illegal.

“Don’t make me kick you for real,” you joke, and Ram smiles again.

Without breaking eye contact he puts both his hands on your hips and rolls down your panties while you lift your tailbone to help him; he pinches your left ankle and lifts your foot, placing your leg on his shoulder.

Reality fades in a blurry ensemble of the last rays of sunset behind the clouds, outside the window, and the hypnotic white noise coming from the a/c unit as you let your fingers run through his hair. Having it ruffled when he’s going down on you is a major turn on for him and you’re dying to please him in return, since you’ve never met another man who was this passionate about the idea of eating you out; he’s also into being praised as a reward for his dedication and you’re happy to oblige, cooing. “You’re so good at this, pandu.”

Ram glances at you, mesmerized. The gentle strokes of his lips grow more and more intense, then he starts to flicker his tongue at such a fast pace that your ragged breath turns into whimpers, to which he replies with low, throaty growls.

“I can’t get enough of you,” he hums, his head still buried between your thighs and his luscious beard, sprinkled with a little gray, rubbing so well on your clit.

You grab a big chunk of his hair at the roots and tug to draw his attention, careful not to hurt him. In your private system of non verbal communication it’s a signal to stop, so he rises to his knees and leans forward for a kiss. You love to taste your ‘sweet nectar’ (as it was referred to in many of the romance novels you read as a teenager) on his mouth; your adult consciousness knows it’s salty, tangy and it’s got a hint of musk to it - still, it’s you and he always enjoys it like you’re a delicious treat.

You also know another part of him is hungry for you, so you make him lay on his back to undo his trousers and pull them down, together with his underwear. He’s hard and impatient, aching to have you wrapped around him. Half of you wants to put you both out of your misery, the other half is determined to take full advantage of your position: you steady yourself on the headboard and straddle him, but first you tuck his leaking cock against his stomach.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” you mumble as you slowly buck your hips, moving up and down his length.

This is plain torture for Ram and he clasps his hands at the old tank top, squeezing like a schoolboy who’s just discovered the amazing, silky roundness of your breasts. He’s adorable when his self-control begins to falter and soon his deep groans make you so wet it hurts.

“Jaanu…” he whines, desperate for release.

Using the headboard to keep your balance you guide him to the right spot before you lower yourself onto him. It’s your turn to fondle his chest and play with the dark trail of fuzz blossoming on his sternum and plunging to his groin; every time you separate you can’t stand to be apart and it’s not long before you grind on him to feel his coarse hair tickle your sensitive skin.

You look at him, his beautiful eyes closed and his teeth biting on his lips. He’s holding you so tight by the waist you’re sure he’ll leave a couple of marks and they’re all signs he’s trying to hold back. “I-I’m–”

“Do it,” you cut him off while you pick up your speed.

Ram throws his head backwards and it’s a sight to behold: his usual, brooding self disappears and all that’s visible on his face is peace and content, even if it lasts for a few seconds. You don’t stop rocking your hips until a familiar warmth flows inside of you, and moments later he wraps his hand around the back of your neck to pull you close.

He lifts his knees to dig his feet into the mattress and starts thrusting, set on a mission to give you one of the best orgasms of your life; he drinks the pure pleasure you’re pouring into his mouth with your loud moans, which he eagerly accepts as an incentive to pound you harder and faster.

“I want to make you come,” he mutters on your lips.

The power he has over you is unexplainable: his voice is what sends you over the edge in the end, gasping for air when a powerful jolt of ecstasy hits you and the tension leaving your body almost causes you to collapse on top of him. In fact you flop on your side, breathless and drained of the energy required to pass for a living and functioning human being; your brain is still engaged in the aftermath of the Big O and the single detail you’re able to process is one of your legs, resting across his lap.

Ram snaps out of the post-coital stupor first, in time to pick his shirt off the floor and help you clean your inner thighs - saving you both the trouble of dealing with a complete mess later. The pensive frown is back and you wipe away the shiny trickle of sweat running down his temple, but he’s so focused on what he’s doing he doesn’t seem to notice. 

Once he’s finished cleaning himself up he fixes his trousers in a hurry throwing the shirt back on the floor to snuggle against you, and you wrap your arms around his shoulders to trace the outline of his muscles using your fingertips.

“Excuse me… what?!” you laugh, since he’s got his face pressed on your bosom and the words come out muffled if he speaks.

“I think I love you, bangaaram,” he repeats, tilting his head up.

Your heart skips a beat.

He looks at you with his brooding expression again, so you find yourself lost in his dark, soulful eyes for the longest instant. Then you cup his face in your hands and rub your nose against his, kissing him so lightly that your touch is like April rain on his mouth.

“I love you too, Ram.”

@ramcharantitties, @nyotamalfoy, @taylorklaine, @bheemaxrama, @ladydarkey, @astrafangs, @ronaldofandom

»»»— read pinned post for taglist info —«««

#rrr ramaraju #rrr ram #ram x reader #ram x fem!reader #ramaraju modern AU #ramaraju x reader #not beta read #smut #smut with a hint of fluff #or viceversa #mdni #minors do not interact #i'm def not a telugu speaker but the thought of him calling me 'bangaaram' makes me squeak #hopefully i'm not the only one #modern AU ram is a police officer like in the movie bc continuity #and also bc... dhruva #yes this is set in hyderabad and it’s probably something i did unconsciously when i wrote the first draft #le smut pourquoi this is who i am now #as in i was born an idiot and now i'm a grownup idiot who writes terrible smut #also i don't like the title but i'm so bad at titling it took me three days to figure it out (and idek if it makes any sense) #originally posted on my sideblog infusedchaos #reposting here bc i deactivated the other one #milla writes n*s*f*w*

[radiant-reid]

From the build a blurb! :)

🥥🦖

'I thought I told you to shut up'.

I like the idea of reader and Spencer being academic rivals and always trying to one-up each other on cases/facts/work/EVERYTHING. And then, for some reason, having to hide in a tiny closet and they're having a kinda heated (but petty) argument and ✨sexual tension✨ is high. Similar vibe to Nicholas and Mia in Princess Diaries 2, if you have seen it?

Also, congratulations on 5k!! You're amazing!! Thank you so much for everything!

thanks for celebrating 5k friends with us

🥥 enemies to lovers 🦖 forced proximity i thought i told you to shut up

"Can you stop doing that?" You asked after Spencer tapped his pen for the 9 millionth time.

Of course, you got the worst job of the case, having to sit in the supply closet with your least favorite person in the whole FBI. It was the unsub's fault for potentially being in the very police station you were working out of. It was also Hotch's fault for partnering you and Spencer up to look through the officers' files in the tiniest room in the place where they could accidentally find you and completely devolve.

More than anything, it was Spencer's fault for being so irritating that you needed to be at least 10 feet away from him to not want to punch him.

He had annoyed you from when you first joined the team when he insisted that he thought of something you profiled about the unsub first. It was supposed to be your moment to earn their respect, but instead, you had found yourself biting your tongue and acting like it was all his thinking.

From that moment on, all you two had done was argue over tiny problems. If he thought one thing, you had to add to the idea and claim it as yours. If you made a mistake, he had to loudly announce it to the team.

Spencer irritatingly looked at you from across the tiny desk, illuminated by only one tiny lightbulb. "It helps me think." He claimed, tapping louder to annoy you.

It had never helped him think before, and you rolled your eyes to display your annoyance. "Well, it's stopping me from thinking." You claimed.

"That isn't really a concern for me." He told you, not waiting for you to reply before he elaborated. "Because we don't need your brain when we have mine."

"Fine." You agreed, dropping the file you were reading through. "You can do it all, and I'll just sit here." Why do any word when he was offering to do it for you? Instead, you could stare at his pretty features as he poked his tongue out and worked. It was another reason you hated him, the intense pull he had on you.

Spencer took the files you were working through. "Well, it would be easier if you please shut up."

The idea didn't sound as appealing as annoying him did. "I'd really rather not."

"Do you really like the sound of your own voice that much?" He asked, eyes darting up from the file to meet yours. His pupils were wider than normal, and you weren't sure it was solely caused by the lack of light in the room.

"Yes, actually, I do." You answered the very much rhetorical question.

Spencer rolled his eyes at the answer he didn't want. "I thought I told you to shut up."

"Firstly, you said 'please,' and secondly, you're not in charge of me." It was, maybe, the most childish thing you could think to say, but as long as it annoyed him, it didn't matter.

"Sorry for being polite." He said sarcastically. You couldn't help glancing at his lips and wondering if they were always so pink. The most perfect shade of pink. "I didn't know it was such a bad quality."

It wasn't. He knew it wasn't. And he knew you knew that. And you also knew he was the kindest person anyone could find, just not to you.

His attention was so far off the files and he just looked right into your eyes for so long that you thought he was going to kiss you because he really looked like he was.

You could see every part of his face, every perfect inch, and god was he attractive. Maybe the prettiest person on earth. His breath was hot against your skin and you could feel his knee resting in between yours.

Face-to-face, almost like a staring match with so much chemical attraction you could feel it pulsing between you. Only inches apart and you couldn't help but glace between his lips and his eyes, and he was doing the same thing.

And then the phone rang.

#cate's 5k celebration #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fandom #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds x reader

[smkkbert]

Time for a story - What we leave behind

“So Mia is their baby.”

It was a statement, but it sounded like a question in Felicity’s ears. Maybe it was because of the thousand questions that had come to her mind with it.

“I guess so, yes.” She nodded her head slowly. “Unless Cisco was mistaken.”

Oliver raised an eyebrow at her. “Do you think he was?”

Felicity bit down on her tongue. She wanted to say that she believed he was mistaken because it was just too cruel if he wasn’t. She knew how conscientious Cisco was, especially when he knew that the results of his work would cause dangerous actions in response.

“No, not really.” Felicity sighed and moved her fingers through her ponytail. “He has probably checked this through twice before he called.”

Oliver nodded his head in agreement.

Neither of them was saying anything about that Earth’s Oliver and Felicity. They both knew their destiny and repeating it was not necessary and definitely not something they wanted to do anyway. It would only rip open old wounds.

“There is no other way, Felicity, but trust me when I tell you that I love you. I loved my Felicity and in some weird, supernatural way, I guess I love you, too. So please just close your eyes. I’m sorry.”

Felicity felt a shiver running down the length of her spine at the memory of watching that Oliver die right in front of her. He had been in so much pain about losing his Felicity that he had come to abduct her. When that hadn’t worked, he had just ended his life. He just hadn’t been able to stand the loss of her.

She was still haunted by this moment in her dreams sometimes. Most of the times, it was her Oliver, who jumped off the rooftop, when she felt set back into that moment in her nightmares. The first time that had happened she had woken up covered with sweat and with her heart racing. Oliver – very much alive and worried about her – had wrapped his arms around her and assured her that he wasn’t going anywhere. That was the only thing that had calmed her down and the only thing that had made it easier to suffer through more of these nightmares in the nights that had followed.

As much as Felicity wanted to think that she couldn’t understand that Oliver’s choices, she knew what it felt like to lose a spouse. Back when Malcolm Merlyn had faked Oliver’s death, she had spent several hours believing that she had lost him forever. She had never been as desperate in her entire life as she had been back then.

If her life had been different, if she hadn’t had any kids, maybe she would have tried to follow him into death. What life was life without him?

“I can’t believe there is or was an Oliver Queen that would kill himself, knowing that he had a child,” Oliver said, “because I know that, no matter what happens, as long as one of our children lives, I have a reason to go on living.”

Felicity smiled sadly while she was watching Oliver slumping down in one of the chairs with a long sigh. She stepped towards him and put her hand to his shoulder, about to say something comforting when-

“What’s going on?” Oliver asked, just knowing from the look on her face that something had come to her mind. “What are you thinking about?”

“That things just don’t line up.”

Felicity frowned and went it through in her head to make sure that she was indeed right. She had relived every action of that day and every word that had been said on that rooftop so many times, she couldn’t be wrong here.

“When Oliver, Earth 16’s Oliver, has been here, he says that his Felicity was dead.” Felicity shook her head. “Mia was a newborn when we found her though, and she was only found three weeks later.”

Oliver frowned. “You think his Felicity might still be alive?”

“Possible, don’t you think?”

“I’m not sure.” Oliver rested his elbows on the armrest of the chair and started spinning his wedding band around his finger. “I know that he and I are not the same person, but I think it’s deep in my DNA to go a hundred percent sure to have reliable proof before actually committing defeat to the idea that you are dead.”

He was right, Felicity thought. Oliver, any Oliver Queen that existed in the multiverse, wouldn’t go to these extremes without triplechecking everything.

“So we need to find out how Mia was born when Felicity was presumably dead,” Felicity concluded, “and we need to find out who took Mia here.”

Oliver nodded his head. “Probably someone from the team.”

“There was no team.” Felicity started walking up and down. “There was only him and Felicity. He wanted to do one last thing before leaving Starling City with her. Something went wrong, and he lost her.”

Felicity didn’t know all the details about what had happened. She hadn’t wanted to know them back when the rooftop incident had happened since she had had other things on her mind. Oliver of Earth 16 hadn’t been really eager to talk about the details either. He had been too lost in his pain and his realization of how wrong his actions were to talk to her about what had driven her in the first place.

“So someone else must have taken Mia to this earth.”

Felicity nodded her head. “That is what we need to find out when we are on Earth 16.”

“My cue!”

Flinching, Felicity jumped in front of Mia’s stroller protectively. As soon as she saw Barry, standing there in front of her with in his Flash Suit with a bright grin and holding out a little device to her, she relaxed again. Sometimes she forgot how fast Barry was and how out of nowhere he appeared to come then.

“Is that the device to get us to Earth 16?”

“It is.”

Felicity snapped it from his fingers quickly and turned it into her hands until she found the little button. As soon as she pressed it, the sound of a crashing wave arose and colorful flashlights poured out of the device. As the device was pulled from her hands by some invisible power, the flashlights formed to a circle. The portal opened.

She could feel Oliver stepping next to her and blindly reached out her hand to link her fingers with his. This was probably going to be one of the most important journeys they had ever taken together.

Felicity’s feet were already itching to take a step forward through the portal. She resisted the urge to go through it though, turned to Barry and cocked her head at him.

“Would you mind watching Mia?”

“Pfft.” Barry sat down in the armchair, put his feet up on the desk and twiddled his thumbs. “I love babysitting.”

Although Barry always seemed to take some things too easily, Felicity knew that he would be a good babysitter. He wouldn’t be Tommy’s godfather if it was any different. So she shot him a smile of gratitude and turned to Oliver.

“Ready?” he whispered.

Felicity felt her knees shaking. No, she wasn’t ready, but she doubted that there was any time long enough to give her the courage to take on this journey. There were just some things in life that you couldn’t get ready for, no matter how much time you were given to prepare yourself.

“We should go.”

Oliver seemed to know that Felicity wasn’t ready. He squeezed her hand, trying to offer her some strength and comfort. She knew that he wasn’t ready either, but he knew was well as she did that they just didn’t have a choice. They needed answers, and they needed them now.

Hand in hand they stepped through the portal into the lives of their doppelgängers.

 → → → → →

 “I always seem to forget how similar these earths are to each other.”

Looking around the bunker on Earth 16, Felicity nodded her head. The portal had led them right into the bunker, and it looked like an exact replica of the bunker they used on their earth. Still, you could see that things were different here. The furniture was covered in dust. The glass cases that held the suits of the team were empty. Some of them shattered, the glass covering the ground.

“It looks like it’s been a while since someone has been here the last time,” she said, “and we both know it didn’t end well.”

Oliver, who was still holding her hand, squeezed it briefly before he crossed the bunker and approached the power switch. He shot her a quick look before turning the power on.

“At least the computers still work.”

Felicity sat down in the arm chair and turned towards the computers. The software hadn’t been updated in a while. She was using a much better version on her earth. This one took several minutes to boot, and lacked some features that Felicity had found helpful and added to the program. It was obvious that nobody with a sense for computers had been working here in a while.

As soon as the computer were able to offer their services to her, Felicity did her research. It didn’t take her long. The internet provided the necessary basic information. The hospital data bank and information that were automatically gathered by the system filled in the blanks. She skimmed the information so quickly that Oliver gave up reading over her shoulder.

When she had absorbed every piece of information that she had been able to find, she leaned back in the chair and let out a long sigh. With it, it wasn’t only the air leaving her lungs. It was at least part of the heaviness that was threatening to bury her after reading what had happened to her doppelganger here or the doppelgangers of the people she loved.

“So?”

Oliver had stopped walking up and down. He was standing at the other side of the platform, holding onto the railing and looking at her intently.

“After we-“

Felicity stopped. They weren’t the same person. They were doppelgängers. They carried the same name, looked the same way, and they shared the same DNA. They had experienced different things though, and that had made them two different persons with different lives and different destinies. This Felicity wasn’t her.

“When Oliver and Felicity couldn’t take down Grant Wilson, they decided to leave the city like so many others have done before them. This city has basically turned into an official meeting point for all kind of criminals. There are no politicians anymore, at least not any that were elected rightfully. The police gave up, and so did a lot of other institutions. Starling City has turned into a ghost town sort of.”

Oliver’s jaws tightened. Their Starling City had been on the verge of becoming overflooded by criminals too by the time he had decided to put on the hood. All he had done for the past years had been an attempt at making sure something like this wouldn’t happen on their earth. Thanks to the good influences that had worked on him, he had achieved much more than that though.

“What about the government?” he asked. “Why don’t they do something to help?”

“They are scared.” Felicity shrugged her shoulders. “They are giving up one city and hope to save a lot of others by that. It might be a temporary solution, but we both know that villains like these aren’t satisfied with what they have here for long.”

“But the government shuts their eyes to this.”

Again, Felicity just shrugged her shoulders. She knew that their so-called solution would only help the criminals to network a little. They would form collaborations and attack the rest of the country. Even if they didn’t, there would be some criminals that would decide to do the same at the other side of the U.S., and these two groups would start attacking each other to find out who was the mightier.

A shiver ran down Felicity’s spine at the possible outcome of a scenario like that. Surrendering the city to the criminals would create war sooner or later.

“So when Oliver and Felicity wanted to leave,” Felicity continued eventually, knowing there was no point in worrying about this earth too much since they had their own to save, “Grant Wilson used that opportunity to attack them. He and his men fired at the car with machine guns. Felicity was hit by several bullets and taken to a hospital, but she was braindead already.”

Oliver swallowed, sucked in a deep breath, and he nodded his head. “How Mia fit into the story?”

“Felicity was pregnant when they were about to leave the city. That is why the doctors decided to monitor her condition and use a feeding tube and whatever to keep her body alive for a little longer. That way she was able to bring Mia into the world. After that, she was taken off the machines.”

A long silence settled as they both took their time to process this piece of information. Learning about the lives of your doppelgängers was never easy. You could see how easily you could have lived through something similar. The thought of leaving behind her children was one that scared Felicity again and again.

The most tragic about it all, she thought to herself, was probably the timing of it all. Oliver had agreed to leave the city behind which certainly hadn’t been easy for him since saving Starling City was a big part of who Oliver was. Just when he had decided to put his own happiness with the woman, he loved in front of everything else, it had all been taken away from him.

Felicity pushed that thought away though because there was no good in getting lost in the thought of all this tragic stuff. They still had a reason for being here, and they hadn’t completely fulfilled that purpose yet. The information that she had gathered still left a lot of questions unanswered.

“We need to find out who took Mia to out earth,” Felicity said, “because with everyone else gone, Oliver and Felicity must have friends here that we don’t have on out earth. We should find out who placed her in that dumpster and why. There has to be a reason why she was placed on our earth of all the possible places in this multiverse.”

“And I already know how we will find out.”

Turning her head back over her shoulder, Felicity saw that Oliver wasn’t looking at her. She followed his gaze to the scattered pieces of glass across the bunker. Felicity had a guess what that meant. She didn’t like it, but it might be their only chance.

 → → → → →

 “I don’t like this.”

Oliver bit his tongue and turned his face away from the surveillance camera that he was sure Felicity had hacked to watch him. With his face hidden in the shadows, he smiled to himself. He had already been betting with himself when Felicity would finally admit that she wasn’t too happy with his decision to put on the leather gear and show up on the rooftops of Starling City.

Back in the bunker, she hadn’t said a word about it. She had thought it for sure. Oliver had seen it in the way she had watched him intently again and again. She had been worried, but she hadn’t voiced those worries because they both knew there was no other way, and they really needed to find out why Mia was placed with them.

“So many of out friends’ doppelgangers died here,” Felicity said, “so you need to be extra careful. Our doppelgangers here were attacked. I-“

Felicity stopped, and Oliver could almost see her biting her lip and watching him on her monitors with worry. Slowly turning around to the camera, one of the few that seemed to still be working around here, Oliver smiled at Felicity gently.

“I am careful,” he whispered, “I promise. By the end of the night, the two of us will go home to our kids safely.”

“Your words in Jahwe’s ear.”

Oliver was about to reply and reassure her that it was going to be fine. A movement behind him, caused him to forget about that thought.

“A man, small, dark leathers, weaponed,” Felicity told him with calm voice, “seven feet behind you.”

Tightening the hold on his bow, Oliver turned around slowly. He saw what Felicity had described to him already. Standing a couple of feet away from him was a small man in dark leathers. He was holding a gun in his left hand and a knife in his right hand. He hadn’t raised them yet, so Oliver didn’t raise his bow either. The mask hid a young face, but Oliver didn’t think that he remembered seeing it before.

“Who are you?” he asked.

“I could ask you the same question,” a distorted voice replied as the guy was using a voice modulator it seemed.

“I am Oliver Queen.”

“Oliver Queen is dead.”

Oliver Queen had never been found dead on this earth. A.R.G.U.S. had taken care of his body after he had died. He had never left Earth One again. Either that guy knew about the multiverse, or he knew this earth’s Oliver well enough to know that he had to be dead if he just disappeared and didn’t come back.

He had to consider what to say now carefully. If that guy wasn’t a friend of this earth’s Oliver and actually worked for Grant Wilson, hearing of different earths might give the criminals here some ideas.

Oliver raised his free hand slowly and pulled back the hood. Then he took off the mask and wiped away the grease from his face. The face of the stranger in front of him didn’t show a reaction or at least it barely did. He pressed his lips together slightly, telling Oliver that he had chosen the right thing to do.

“He knows something,” Felicity whispered into his ear.

“How did you know Oliver Queen?”

“The better question is-“

“You already know who I am. Now it’s time for you to answer a question.”

The guy nodded slowly, looking Oliver up and down for a moment. “We’ve been at Slabside together.”

Oliver had made friends at even unlikelier places than prison, and some of those friendships still meant a lot to him. Many of them had saved his life more than once.

“Is there a Slabside at the earth you come from?”

He knew about the other earths.

“My facial recognition program says he’s Stanley Dover. He has been working for Queen Consolidated back when Oliver’s father was still alive. He was later sent to Slabside for being involved with Count Vertigo, but he was released as he seems to have gone astray because his parents tortured him. His father was a doctor and used self-made medicine to correct his misbehavior.” Felicity sighed. “There are a lot of people in this world that shouldn’t have children, but I guess we knew that already. Anyway, I think we found our guy,”

Oliver couldn’t agree more. There were a lot of people in the world that shouldn’t have children and still have them, and this guy knew stuff. Right now he was their best chance at finding out what exactly had happened that had made Mia end up in a dumpster.

“There is a Slabside at Earth One.” Oliver took a step closed. “That isn’t why I am here though, and I think you know that.”

Stanley Dover continued to look right back at him, but Oliver could see in his eyes that he really wanted to look away.

“You are here because of the baby.”

“Mia,” Oliver said, feeling the need to make sure her name was known, “her name is Mia.”

“Mia.” Stanley Dover nodded his head. “If you think that she’s mind, you are wrong. She-“

“-is the baby of this earth’s Oliver Queen,” Oliver interrupted him, “I know.”

The ghost of a smile showed on Stanley Dover’s face. “Of course you know.”

“Why did you take this earth’s Oliver Queen’s baby and brought it to out earth and into our lives?”

With a long sigh, Stanley Dover pushed the knife into the pocket of his leather jacket and put the gun away into the holster. Oliver loosened his grip on the bow in response. Neither of them meant to cause any harm to the other.

“The baby-“

“Mia.”

“Mia,” Stanley Dover corrected himself, “was in need of someone who love her. She couldn’t grow up here in a city that Oliver Queen abandoned because it wasn’t savable. Her mother was killed here brutally, and her father was pushed into ending his own life because of everything that happened here. Besides, she would have a bounty on her head the moment anyone would have known she was alive. There was no place for her here.”

It would have been a sad and lonely life, Oliver knew from experience. After his parents had died and he had made so many enemies that he couldn’t have counted them all even if he had tried, he had hidden at the foundry a lot. He had shifted his entire life there and probably wouldn’t have made an appearance at Oliver Queen ever again if it hadn’t been for Thea first and foremost.

The thought that a baby would have to go through that and grow up in a life like that was just unthinkable. She would have never been happy because she would have never been free.

“Why our earth?” Oliver asked.

“Are you serious?” Stanley Dover asked. “Oliver – this earth’s Oliver – wanted your earth’s Felicity to be Mia’s mother after his Felicity was declared braindead. He did days and night of research to make sure Mia got only the best version of a mother there was of Felicity. He chose your wife, so where else should I have taken her?”

Oliver nodded his head as it made sense. Stanley Dover had tried to honor his friend’s will by bringing Mia to where he knew his friend had wanted her to be – to Felicity.

Still, it didn’t make everything okay.

“Mia is sick,” Oliver said, suppressing his anger as much as he could, “very sick even. She could have died because you just left her in a dumpster instead of-“

“Is she alright?”

There was honest worry in his voice. He certainly hadn’t wanted to endanger her. It eased Oliver’s anger a little.

“She is going to be fine. She needed surgery, and she will need more surgery, but she is going to be okay. Although you left her there.”

“I had no choice.” Stanley Dover looked sincerely sorry. “The guy that took me a Earth One had strict rules. I wasn’t allowed to talk to anyone or be seen by anyone. I only had like three minutes. Putting her there was my best shot at making sure she was found by the right people at the right time. I never could have hurt Mia. She is Oliver’s daughter.”

Oliver nodded his head. Stanley Dover had been forced to make a difficult choice, and he had done the best he could to make sure his friend’s daughter wasn’t only safe but also loved. He had wanted to give her the best chance at happiness she could possibly have.

She would be happy, Oliver swore himself, because he and Felicity would make sure of that. Just like her siblings would make sure of that. She had a big family on their earth. They had loved her, thinking she had just stumbled into their lives by coincidence, and they would love her, knowing she had been placed into their life with a purpose.

“Ask him about the timeline of events,” Felicity asked, sounding breathlessly, “like when they got together or when they discovered that they were having a baby.”

“We need to know more about this earth’s Oliver and Felicity. We need to know what their life was like. When Mia grow up, she should know that her parents loved her and loved each other.”

Their love for each other was something that he and Felicity tried to show their kids every single day. They wanted them to know what true love looked like and make sure that they wouldn’t settle for anything less.

“Oliver and Felicity got married five years ago,” Stanley Dover explained, “but Grant Wilson took over the city only a couple of weeks later. Within months, they had experienced more loss than anyone could face. They couldn’t take it anymore, and they didn’t have anyone else. The only one left to take out their frustration on was each other.”

“Make sense,” Felicity whispered.

“And then?” Oliver asked.

“A couple of months later, they realized that they couldn’t live without each other. Felicity wanted Oliver to join her, but he couldn’t give up on Starling City. They compromised on one last mission. Felicity came back for that, they got back together and they almost succeeded with their mission.”

“Almost,” Oliver repeated quietly, “is not enough.”

“Oliver realized that too.” Stanley Dover nodded his head. “When Felicity told him that she was pregnant, he knew that they had to leave. He wanted to raise their child somewhere safe and sound. They wanted to leave, but-”

“-Felicity got shot.”

“Yes.”

It was a sad truth and a sad ending to a love story, but there was nothing they could do to change it. All they could do was accept it and make sure that Mia would grow up safe and loved. That was something they could very well do.

Oliver crossed the distance to Stanley slowly. Standing only two feet in front of him, he held out a hand. Stanley hesitated before he shook it.

“Thank you for your service to the Green Arrow and to this city. We are forever in your debt for bringing Mia into out lives. She will be in good hands with us.”

Stanley Dover seemed to be at a loss of words. He just nodded his head and breathed in and out slowly. He nodded his head though, accepting the words.

When Oliver turned away from him, he touched the front of his chest right over his heart. There was no need to do that anymore. Felicity could hear anything that he said when he was wearing the suit, but sometimes he still felt drawn back to those old days when he had to touch his heart to talk to her.

“Come back,” Felicity said before he could say anything though, “it’s time to go home.”

“Yes, it is. I’m on my way.”

 → → → → →

 Just one more look, Felicity told herself and opened the door as quietly as possible. Tiptoeing towards the crib, she tried to not even breathe. She didn’t want to make a single sound that could wake up Mia after it had taken her almost two hours to get the five-months-old to fall asleep earlier tonight.

As soon as Felicity bent over the crib, Mia surprised her by being wide awake though. She squealed and reached out her tiny hands for the ends of Felicity’s hair. Felicity had to bend down a little bit more for Mia to be able to grab them. She kicked her feet excitedly in response and squealed once more.

“You were supposed to be asleep.” Felicity lifted Mia from the crib and into her arms. Placing her against her chest, she sat down in the rocking chair and kissed Mia’s head. “I know I won’t be able to find much sleep tonight, but I have an excuse after everything that I have learned today.”

Felicity still tried to wrap her mind around it. She had seen how desperate that Oliver had been when he had tried to abduct her. He had been completely out of himself. It was why he had jumped off that rooftop eventually. Only now she realized how desperate he really must have been if not even the thought of Mia could have helped him through it.

A familiar tingling in the back of her neck made Felicity smile and turn her head back over her shoulder. Oliver was standing in the doorframe, leaning against the wood with his hands pushed into the pockets of his sweatpants. He looked about as exhausted as Felicity felt.

Their eyes met. Although no word was spoken, a silent conversation was taking place. The look on her face alone was enough for Oliver to know what she was thinking about. She was sure that he even realized that looking at him hurt a little tonight, just like looking at her might hurt Oliver a little tonight. Just knowing that there were doppelgangers of them out there that not only didn’t make it together. They didn’t make it at all.

It was the stuff that their nightmares were made of.

“He was a broken man, Felicity,” Oliver said eventually, stepping closer and sitting down on the armrest of the rocking chair. “He had been through losses that I, luckily, never had to face. If I had to live through the trauma he has been through, I am not sure where I would be right now.”

Felicity didn’t want to hear it, and she didn’t want to think about it. She knew Oliver was right. She knew that he might have done something similar if he had been in the same situation. After all, he and that Oliver shared the same DNA. Everything else was just the experience they were put through.

Lifting her face to look at Oliver, she saw him focused on Mia. If the expression in his eyes was any indication, he was thinking and feeling the same she did. Felicity wasn’t surprised. She and Oliver shared a lot of feelings and thoughts on things.

“I’m really glad Mia is here with us.”

Oliver nodded his head. “I always felt like she belonged here with us.”

“You did, didn’t you?” Felicity said, frowning slightly. “You found her and knew she was part of the family.”

“Maybe there was things that last even through multiverses.”

Felicity smiled at the thought. Maybe Oliver had really felt some kind of bond between him and Mia because, at least genetically speaking, he was her father. It was weird because he hadn’t fathered her, not really, but she had been made of his DNA. It was… complicated. Everything that included multiverses was complicated. Always.

Resting her head on Mia’s tummy, she felt the quick beat of the baby’s heart beneath her palm. Mia looked so happy and so carefree. Only a baby could look like that. She didn’t have a single worry in her life because she was feeling loved and taken care of. She didn’t know how she had come here and what she had had to lose to be here.

“One day we will have to tell her the truth about where she comes from and who she is.”

With a sigh, Oliver rested his hand over Felicity’s. “Yes, we will. She deserves to know that.”

“It will be interesting.” Felicity felt like she had to chuckle, but it died in her throat. “I mean I thought telling her that her mother left her in a dumpster was hard, but this…”

How did you tell a child that she had been taken here from another universe? That she had been placed in the lives of her parents’ doppelgangers because her parents were dead? That all the people she had grown up around were either dead or had never existed where she came from?

“We will tell her one day,” Oliver said with firm voice, “one distant day when she is old enough and strong enough to understand that she was meant to come here to this universe and into our lives, even though it’s terrible that she and Oliver and Felicity had to go through all of that trauma for that to happen.”

Felicity brought herself to smile sadly. She lifted her gaze and looked at Oliver.

“We will tell her together one day.”

Oliver turned his eyes away from Mia and looked at Felicity. She could see in his eyes that he knew what she was intending. She didn’t just want to make him promise that they would sit Mia down and talk to her together when the time came. She wanted to promise her that, even when things got bad, he’d always come back home. She couldn’t lose him, and their kids couldn’t lose him either.

Leaning down, Oliver placed a gentle kiss to Felicity’s forehead.

“We will tell her together,” he whispered against her skin, “of course we will.”

* * *

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