#can’t spell switch without witch

[benjinoff13]

“AgAtHa HaRkNeSs Is A tOp”

agatha harkness cries during sex let’s be serious

[florencebirdsong]

you can run but you can’t hide

Agatha Harkness x Rio Vidal

summary: you sleep with one witch without killing her and suddenly your girlfriend has the time to hunt you down. Go figure.

Or, Agatha wants Rio’s attention and now she has it. Quick and dirty style.

tags: top!Rio, brief power!bottom Agatha, they are switches after all, fingering (both receiving), knife play, no blood description, biting, thorny vine restraints, possessive Rio, little shit Agatha

Words: 1,576

masterlist | ao3

authors note: this is early-ish in their relationship. Before Nicky but when Agatha is already well into her serial killer phase.

“Oh, Agatha~” Rio sings. 

Her voice comes from all directions. Running from the original green witch in a centuries old forest isn’t the best idea but Agatha is quite literally out of options.

A branch rustles but there’s a suspicious shadow in its opposite direction. Agatha aims slightly for the left of the branch and finds herself sliding into a ditch. Her muffling spell deadens the sound of snapping twigs and sliding leaves. She resists the urge to cast an illusion over her little dip in the ground. Not only would it not work on Death but it would be a dead give away to her. There’s leaves sticking to her face, roots poking her ribs and something sharp grazing her ankle but she doesn’t risk moving.

Leaves crunching in a steady pattern give away footsteps. 

“Agatha~” Rio sings out again, a dark edge to her voice Agatha hasn’t heard in a long time. A warning that she’s toeing the line, and not one of the fun ones they like to draw for each other.

Two steps closer and Agatha can see the edge of Rio’s silhouette. Her hand twitches but she doesn’t take the bait. They’ve been playing this game long enough for her to know better. 

Her restraint doesn’t matter. Rio already knows where she is. Shrubs grab at her and propel her into Death’s waiting arms.

“Got you,” Rio says with a cheeky grin before slamming her against a tree. Agatha tries to grapple with her but her breath has been forced out of her. Rio has her pinned within a second. ���Someone’s been naughty,” she says.

“Can a girl not spend a night curing her loneliness?” 

“You know the rules. That is not how you get my attention.” Rio’s pulls her knife out and pokes into the soft flesh under Agatha’s chin.

“You’re here now, aren’t you?” Agatha says.

“Don’t tell me you’re being the jealous one, Agatha. You can summon me whenever you like,” Rio says as she trails the knife down Agatha’s throat.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but the area’s a little bare of witches at the moment.”

“And yet you still managed to find one to bed,” Rio’s smile edges more towards a snarl.

“A green one too,” Agatha smiles as Rio’s snarl stretches further. “I knew that would get under your skin.”

“Oh, Agatha,” Rio knife digs in, “We both know the only thing under my skin is you.”

“Prove it,” Agatha snarls back. She goes for the knife but Rio digs it in deeper.

“Careful, sweetheart, you know what happens when my claws come out,” she slides her knife lightly along Agatha’s neck. Just enough to make a thin, red cut.

“They’re not out already?” Agatha asks. “Was me fucking another woman not enough?” 

Rio growls and throws Agatha to the ground face first. Agatha doesn’t get a chance to push herself back up. Rio jumps on top of her and she narrowly avoids slamming her chin into the ground. She expects at least a few more verbal jabs but Rio’s been pushed past her limit. She forces herself between Agatha’s legs, keeping her down with a hand pressing her head into the dirt, and tears off Agatha’s pants. Half a second later and she’s forcing three fingers into Agatha’s soaked cunt. They moan together.

It only takes three harsh thrusts for Agatha to stop being disappointed that the game is over so quickly. She pushes back onto Rio’s fingers and Rio’s grip tightens in her hair.

“If you’re so desperate then come,” she demands with a snarl. 

They’ve only just started yet Rio curls her fingers and Agatha finds herself right on the edge. Rio leans down and sinks her sharp teeth into the vulnerable skin on her neck and Agatha comes with a muffled scream.

Rio removes her teeth and laughs against Agatha’s skin.

“She must’ve been bad if that’s all it took,” she says.

“Who?” Agatha murmurs through her post-orgasm haze. Rio laughs again. She ignores Agatha’s whine as she gently pulls out and turns her over. She settles on Agatha’s hips.

“Who owns you, Agatha?” she murmurs as she runs her wet fingers down Agatha’s throat, enjoying the way Agatha basks in the attention. One corner of Agatha’s mouth twitches up.

“That witch,” she says. Rio’s fingers close around her throat. She doesn’t break eye contact.

“You don’t even remember her name.”

“I never even knew it,” Agatha says with that same teasing smile. 

What should cancel out her previous statement makes it burn hotter by the way she says it. Thorny vines shoot out to wrap around her wrists and ankles.

“I could just leave you here,” Rio threatens.

“You won’t,” Agatha says with such certainty it infuriates Rio. 

Another vine caresses Agatha’s throat before wrapping around it. She’s right. Rio has gone too long without her to leave her so soon. That doesn’t mean she has to satisfy her.

Rio begins grinding down and Agatha watches her with that same lazy smirk.

“Don’t get too cocky, Agatha. I’m going use you to come and then leave you here wanting.”

“Just like that other green witch did?”

Rio gnashes her teeth together. She resists the urge to sink them into Agatha again. Her anger will create too much force and she’ll break something. 

Instead, Rio leans down, never faltering in her rhythm, to breathe the same air as her love. She watches as Agatha drinks in every inch of her expression as she gets closer and closer. That cocky look turns into desire which then turns into pure want as Rio nears the edge. Rio’s eyes flutter close and she leans that little bit closer so her lips brush Agatha’s. Agatha tries to close the gap but the thorns cutting into her skin keep her still. Rio moans into her mouth.

A needy sound leaving her has Agatha squirming but it’s too late. Rio shudders on top of her and comes before Agatha gets a chance to fully enjoy it.

The desperate eyes that greet Rio are almost as sweet as her orgasm. She gently runs her fingers over Agatha’s cheek before gripping her face tightly.

“Don’t ever do that again,” she growls, her eyes creeping towards their other-worldly purple glow. 

Or what? Agatha wants to say but Rio’s grip is too tight. The challenge is still clear on her face and Rio’s nails lengthen to dig into her skin.

“You are mine, Agatha Harkness,” Rio hisses. “I can make you wish you were dead as much as I can make you feel alive.”

There’s a much darker note under Rio’s voice than Agatha is used to. Her challenging look turns wary. She doubts this game will ever stop being fun but that doesn’t mean nastier moments can’t sneak through. She doesn’t want Rio to doubt her devotion. That would be more dangerous than anything she’s attempted before.

“I claim you, Rio Vidal, Death, The First Green Witch,” Agatha declares. Rio’s eyes widen a fraction. “You are mine as I am yours, until the end of time.”

The words carry a hint of magic and Rio’s snarl slides off her face. 

“I am yours as you are mine,” Rio breathes with the same amount of devotion. A hint of desperation hidden by Rio sealing the vow with a kiss. Soft at first but quickly devolving into their usual hunger. 

Rio removes the vine keeping Agatha’s neck pinned, so she doesn’t have to break the kiss as she rises slightly on her knees and slips her fingers back inside of Agatha. Agatha moans into her mouth and Rio swallows it eagerly. She wants to devour her, merge their bodies and bind their souls as one. For now she settles for chasing Agatha across the continent and pulling every lick of pleasure she can from her.

Agatha’s magic snaps the rest of vines holding her down, thorns slicing her as she reaches for Rio. Her hands find the back of Rio’s neck and the bodice of her dress. Rio’s less punishing thrusts allow her room to guide the kiss. Her hand moves from Rio’s bodice to the skirts of her dress and tugs them up until she can get it under. She gives Rio the same treatment she’s receiving and slips three fingers into her heat, quickly matching her rhythm. Fingers curl, thumbs find clits, teeth scrape over skin and tongues dips into mouths. They become one moaning, writhing mess as they both reach their peaks before collapsing into each other.

Panting slightly, Agatha gently moves hair out of Rio’s face. She’s wearing that look that means she wants to consume Agatha but her eyes are flashing violet in the way that means too many bodies are calling. The strain of ignoring it is apparent on her face.

“Go do your job, Death,” Agatha releases her. “But don’t be so long this time, hmm?” 

“You won’t leave the next one alive,” Rio says firmly.

“There are other ways to torture you, my love,” Agatha says softly, like it’s a sweet promise. Rio’s eyes flash a deeper purple, no death magic lightening them. 

“I shall return soon,” she promises. 

Soon to death can be very different to life but Agatha accepts the promise with a kiss.

“Te veo,” Rio whispers against her lips before getting up and fading back into the dark. 

Agatha lies there for a along while, getting her breath back.

[lucianalight]

What do you think would happen if Agatha fought a witch who had the same power as her? If they blasted each other, would they just end up passing the power back and forth in an infinite loop?

The visual is honestly hilarious. 😂

😂😂😂 Yes that’s a hilarious picture. But this is actually a very good question about her power. And the problem is canon never really explained how her power works. So let's analyze what we have about it:

1. How It Activates

Agatha said she won't be able to steal someone's magic unless they blast her with it. But if it only activates by someone blasting her with magic, why could she use it on Wanda without Wanda attacking her? I’m thinking of that scene when Wanda shielded her family against Agatha and yet Agatha absorbed her power.

The other witches we saw she was killing when Nicky was alive didn’t start attacking her with magic from the start either. Like that coven who invited her in, when Nicky was a newborn. No one started attacking her but as soon as she walked in the protective circle the witches started screaming.

Then there is that scene with Alice. Alice blasted Agatha with her magic, but it wasn’t supposed to be offensive to Agatha. It was supposed to protect her from her ghost mom possessing her body.

We also have that What If episode in which Agatha could absorb the power of Eternals and Celestials through spells, so her power absorption isn’t limited to magic. She can absorb any kind of power and use it.

So her power isn’t activated just by blasting her, but by using any kind of magic/power on her or when her own magic touches the source of another’s magic/power.

2. How It Stops

So far we haven’t seen anyone being able to stop Agatha without her stopping the absorption herself. Not even Death(Loki might be able to stop Agatha by stopping time). So we can assume for now that it's an unstoppable force.

3. When It Kills

Absorbing someone's power doesn't necessary kill them. Mordo could take a sorcerer's magic without killing them. Sorcerers take power from an outside source. Eternals didn't die when Agatha took their power but celestials did. Wanda and Billy have chaos magic which is probably infinite power since it comes from an infinity stone and Wanda didn't die in her fight with Agatha eithet. America would have died if her power was taken from her. But Agatha herself didn't die when Wanda took all of her power.

It seems to me that power absorption only kills when the power is an inborn power not a learned/given ability. And if the inborn power is infinite then the person becomes weak but doesn't die. Agatha's power is absorption. But to use her purple she needs to take power from another source.

An unstoppable absorbing power reminds me more than anything of a blackhole. And I think Agatha's power is like a blackhole with an on/off switch that she can’t always control. The thing about blackholes is that almost nothing can escape them, even another blackhole. If two blackholes get too close to each other, they merge and make a bigger blackhole.

So I think just like the Gemini twins in Legacies(TVD), in case another witch with the same absorption power attacks Agatha, the stronger witch absorbs the powers of the other witch, including the absorption itself, and therefore kills them in the process.

And we actually see it happen on the show. Rio's power is really similar to Agatha. She as the original green witch gives life and as Death only takes and takes. In a way death is a blackhole no one can escape.

[siennafrxst]

🩸₊ ⊹ ~֒ memories

SEASON 5 SPOILERS!

pairing: stefan salvatore x fem vampire-witch reader

universe: tvd (the vampire diaries)

word count: 0.7k words

synopsis: reader and stefan go way back in the 1800’s. and when qetsiyah erases all of stefan’s memories, despite reader knowing how to bring them back, she doesn’t. for good reason.

a/n: this is set in S5E6, and instead of qetisyah restoring stefan’s memories, it’s reader.

click here to visit my fanfic masterlist.

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When Stefan enters his bedroom, he spots you sitting on the edge of his bed, catching him by surprise.

“Y/N, what’re you doing here?”

You stand up from the bed, starting to slowly approach the perplexed man. “I’m here to say… I’m sorry,” you confess, letting out a light exhale.

Stefan raises an eyebrow. “What do you have to be sorry for?”

You pause for a moment, bracing yourself for what you were about to say. “I lied to you and to everyone else for the past few days.”

“What do you mean?”

“I know how to bring back your memories. I always have.”

At the mention of his past memories, his eyes widen in surprise. He lets that sink in for a moment — a part of him feels confused, and maybe even a little betrayed that he could’ve gotten his memories back all this time but you were just choosing not to. However, the biggest part of him was trust. The trust he had for you, despite not remembering anything about you. But something in him inclined him to trust your decision.

“Wait, but… then why?”

You let out another sigh before explaining. “Because for the first time since we met, I’ve never seen you this… happy. This free without all the pain and trauma that you’ve been through. And maybe it’s selfish but… it’s just a relief seeing you like this. I’m sorry.”

Stefan takes a careful step towards you. “Y/N,” he begins, reaching out to place a gentle hand on your shoulder. “I get that, but I also know that all the pain I’ve gone through is a part of who I am, and I can’t just run away from that. So, I understand what you’re saying, but I want my memories back. It’s for the best.”

You give him a small smile at his sincere gesture and words. “If you say so,” you nod, finally accepting the truth.

As much as you wanted to ‘save him from his own pain,’ you also knew that it was wrong. Those memories, even the painful ones, are what make Stefan — well, Stefan. And the reassurance in his tone finally made you accept that.

He removes the hand he has on you as you brings your hands to the side of his face. “This is gonna hurt,” uou warn him in a soft, delicate tone.

When he gives you a nod of confirmation, you close your eyes and begin to chant the spell to recover his memories. In an instant, it’s like a switch flicks in his head and he groans in pain. Flashbacks of his past start to show up as an indication that he's getting his memories back. From when he first met you, when he first met Katherine, when he turned into a vampire, when he murdered his father, when he became a Ripper, when he first met Lexi, when he first met Elena, when he fell in love with her… and when he got trapped in the safe, drowning for months. All the memories and feelings he has endured just passed through his veins in the most overwhelming way possible.

Upon hearing his gasps of pain, you almost stopped yourself from casting the spell, but you pushed through and kept going.

Finally, when you go through the last moment right before Qetsiyah had fried his brain, you stop herself and slowly remove your hold on him.

Opening your eyes, you examine his body reactions, seeing that he was still panting softly and closing his eyes.

“Stef? Are you alright?” You question with worried expressions.

Stefan lets out a heavy sigh before responding, still slightly breathless. “You mean other than the fact that I just got all my memories back in a matter of seconds? Yeah, I am.”

Relieved, you let out a light chuckle at his reply. “Good, good.”

He finally opens his eyes to spot the small smile on your face before your eyebrows furrow slightly.

“Are you sure it worked?” You ponder with a doubtful tone.

“1858; the sun was setting and you were sitting on the edge of a lake casting a fire spell. Quite frankly, Damon and I didn’t realize it at that time, but I recall seeing a bright light surging from the corner of my eyes before you realized that we were watching you.”

You raise an eyebrow at his words, before quickly realizing what he was talking about. “...that was the day that we first met.”

“Yeah, it was.” Stefan nods.

The previous smile on your face only increases in size, everything finally seeming to be alright for at least this very second.

“It’s good to have you back, Stef.”

“It’s good to be back, Y/N.”

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likes and reblogs are vv appreciated.

[zombiejette]

Alright y’all, I caved. Meet Ursula, my Yellowjackets OC. She’s the resident goth girl on the team, and actual practicing witch. Basically, me as a teen but punched up to the max. Her favorite film is definitely the Craft, and she has many criticisms on 90’s Hollywood’s portrayals of magic (no, we’re not all Wiccans and Vegans 🙄). She’s also a talented artist who loves graphic novels and manga, and hopes to one day make her own series (which will become her downfall later). She only did soccer as punishment from her parents, who hoped it would “snap some sense into her” and make her “goth phase” a short-lived one. Joke’s on them though, because now she’s more angry bitter and disillusioned than ever, plus gained a healthy outlet for her rage as center forward. And now, after spending a year lost in the wilderness with her teammates, that rage has only honed itself into a finely-tuned feral machine.

She wasn’t always so aggressive tho- at least, not to the undeserving. She actually bonded with Nat first, way back when she started on JV. The two had an instant camaraderie as the outcasts of the team, and cool older girl Nat was sort of a role model for baby Ursula. When they snuck away from practice one day to go smoke behind the bleachers, that was when Nat actually discovered Ursula never liked to partake in drugs or drinking, and would always fake it to “seem cool” to the other edgy kids. Ursula had never confided that in anyone else before, and Nat actually had mad respect for the fake-smoking trick Ursula used to fool the onlookers. Nat promised never to tell anyone her secret, and from then on, the two were real friends as well as teammates. The rest of the girls took some time to wam up to her though, since Ursula definitely played up the “scary goth witch” mask when around them. Didn’t help that she was built like a tank too, and taller than most girls on the team, which added more to the “don’t fuck with me” attitude she already projects. This came in useful for their winning streak, but meant that most didn’t really know how to act around her off the field. Once stranded in the wilderness though, that all changed. She was one of the first to take to the gore as a necessity of survival. Once Misty chopped off Coach’s leg, the switch flipped inside to “emergency calm mode” and she used that tank-like strength to help get as many people off the plane and away from danger as possible. Maybe she even was the one who got Van out of that seat, just ripping the seatbelt off by the hinges and carrying her away to safety (listen- it’s my sapphic OC, let me have my one moment with Van pls 😅). Regardless, it was the first time the team wasn’t outright scared of her raw intensity, and saw that underneath all the rage and angst, was a genuinely caring person who would do anything for her team’s survival. But that doesn’t mean she’s without her flaws. And like Lottie, she already could see the value in the supernatural, and had a connection to the other forces at work even before they touched down in the forest. Her first instinct on finding the abandoned cabin would also be “fuck no, this place is deffo cursed, we can’t stay here”, and probably would’ve even had a standoff fight with them about finding some other type of shelter before being out-voted. Finding the skeleton in the attic wouldn’t help matters either, and I think she’d be the first to try to cleanse the space with some sort of smudging or spell work. She would’ve 10000% mediated that terrible seance of Jackie’s too, making it either better or worse because of the validity her witchcraft would’ve added to it. She wouldn’t have just followed Lottie’s cult, I think she would’ve added to it as a co-leader. Or some sort of magic consultant at least. I think the two would’ve bonded over the unseen that they could both feel, and maybe argued about the nature of it, but would’ve for sure still taken it seriously the same way. I know my girl wouldn’t have left home without bringing her candles, crystals, and tarot cards with her, so there would’ve been those lovely additions to the rituals as well. Maybe Nat tries to reason with Ursula more as a conduit to Lottie, begging her to talk some sense into her when things go too far, but by that point, the magical evidence would outweigh other logic for Ursula, and I could see it being one of their first major fights as friends. 😥

Pluuuuus… she would haaate Travis. Sorry y’all. The man is still exactly the type of toxic asshat that I personally hated as a teen, and the fact that he treats her bff Nat so bad for the whole first season would’ve made him #1 on her shit list. I think she definitely would’ve hexed him, and she probably would’ve encouraged his sacrifice during their doom-coming incident. Maybe would’ve even been the one with a knife to his throat instead of Shauna. However… I don’t think she would’ve blamed Jackie. I think she would be against the slut-shaming aspect of it, and also still see that as Travis’ mistake, since he had an obligation to Nat if he really loves her. Jackie as the other woman is just sort of a non-crime, especially since Nat even agreed it’s not Jackie’s fault, so I think she might’ve weighed in on her defense with that. (not that it would’ve changed much lol) There’s so many more parts to go through and add her into, but the most important one really is what happens way later, in their adult life. After being rescued, all the women go into a sort of hiding period, where they all integrate back into society and kind of lay low in their secrecy pact. At first, Ursula is 100% fine with that, wants nothing to do with them, even if it pains her to not talk to Natalie sometimes- but the way she’s gone down into her multiple binges and drug spirals makes it hard to contact her anyway. And Misty would’ve been ecstatic for the company, no doubt, but as much as she’s amused by that little freak, she’s too aware of what a close relationship with Misty Quigley would turn into (and she’s pretty sure Misty would only get close to her so she could crush on Nat by proxy). So. The only thing to try to do really is move on…. and channel everything into her art. At first it’s all abstracted and darker pieces- one off paintings or beginnings of comics that don’t go anywhere- not because she can’t finish them, but because it would be revealing too much of the truth on paper, something she still keeps her promises about. That is, until one day about a decade later, when she gets the idea for a fictional graphic novel that can disguise the truth by using another popular supernatural trope: Vampires. The same bloodshed, human feeding, and feral behavior can easily be translated into a vampire comic, while still using traits from her teammates in the other characters. She knows it’s risky, but dammit, it’s been about a decade now… and the weight of it all has been eating at her like it does all of them, to the point where she just /has/ to create something about it. If only to get it out of her own body. She even puts it under an alias just to be extra safe, but naturally, the comic becomes a big hit and the real author is uncovered, as well as all the speculations that come with it.

She publicly insists it’s just a fictional story, based on nothing but imagination, but fan-theories and deep dives circulate, the internet making comparisons to the hinted at clues, and pairing the characters with their irl counterparts a little too accurately. And honestly, she’d be lying if she said deep, deep, deeeep down she wasn’t a little bit hoping for them to put the pieces together. She sees this portrayal as sort of a lasting tribute to their fallen teammates- since the truth of their demise could never go public, at least in this way she could honor their memory. Of course this all reaches the attention of the survivors, and I feel it would be a nice additional drama to Tai’s career as a senator, or even as a replacement for that arc. Anyway if you’ve read this far, congrats and my many thanks. I’m still thinking up stuff for this girl- maybe enough to even write a fic, who knows? But I’m having fun for now.

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

If You Got It, Haunt It

Curtis and Honey Halloween Special

Summary- 2.6k Curtis Everett x Plus!Sized Reader. You and Curtis are out for a night at Paulie's playing a game of pool with Claude and Grey. It all starts with one little Halloween pun and some purple nurples.

Warnings- Smut. This is an 18+ Only Blog.

A/N- Happy Halloween everyone! My personal favorite holiday and I had to drop something to celebrate. I hope everyone finds something good today among all the mayhem our world has going on. Thank you all for all the comments, likes and shares you give this series. The puns were from a reel I saw on facebook and if I ever come across it here, I will be sure to link it because it was so silly and cute.

Life Is Short So Make It Sweet Masterlist

The pool balls clacked across the bars table while you stood nearby watching Curtis and Grey debate on where the balls would go. Claude stood at the other end, picking out pool cues for you and her. 

Money sat on the edge, waiting for the future winner to lay claim. The bar was festively decorated all around, the usual music that Paulie played was now tuned in with some more halloween themed songs. You were waiting for Monster Mash to start playing, already having told Paulie you were gonna need a tray of Purple Nurple shots to be delivered per your and Claude’s request. A little homage to Dean Winchester as well as shooting some purple colored shots. Tis the season after all. 

Curtis wandered over after it was all decided who was playing what ball, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you in close. You sunk into his touch, cuddling in against him. “Mh mh MH.” You started, looking up at him. “I didn’t know my favorite Halloween treat came in life size.” 

“Honey, I will be the monster you can mash.” Curtis immediately responded, a hand wandering to cup your ass, arching your hip to press against his while you hid your giggle in his chest. “You and Grey are stripes.” He rumbled, grumpy in the moment that Claude insisted on switching up the usual teams. “You over here looking all ‘come fuck me Curtis’ Pretty Girl is giving me some thoughts.” His nips on your mouth, tasting of his whiskey shots from earlier making you grin at the sensation, the warmth of his chest seeping through his hoodie and curling through you. You let your hands slide into the pouch at the front of his shirt, tugging Curtis in closer to you till he was wrapped all around you. “Babe, I must be a witch.” You let your nose rub against his before pulling back enough to see his expression, your grin wider with the upcoming joke you had for him. 

“Really? Why’s that, 'cause you put a spell on me?” Curtis played along, his grumpy expression from earlier still a trace on his features, but he was starting to lighten up a bit more while flirting with you. 

“I actually can raise your broomstick without even touching it.” You informed him, arching enough to press a kiss to his bristled cheek while he gave a huff of a laugh, you snorting in a giggle while he hugged you against him. 

“Fuck.” He grunted, talking only loud enough for you to hear so his mouth was close to your ear, the bristles of his cheek a welcome sensation as they brushed against your jawline. “You really do have that kind of magic woman.” 

Claude shouted over the table, making you and Curtis glance her way. “Curtis, remember you're on opposite teams. You can’t be over there flirting with the enemy.” She held up his pool cue. “And it’s your turn.” 

“Then you’re in for some fucking bad luck Claude, 'cause I have no will power against my girl.” Curtis let his hand run along the curve of your ass one more time before pulling away and taking the cue from her, looking around the table for the best shot while Grey appeared behind Claude, catching her in his arms and making her yelp in surprise, the two of them fooling around with one another while Curtis aimed for a shot.

You admired Curtis, so reminiscent of the first time you two played pool when bumping into each other. It was even the same table, the two of you talking and getting to know each other while Curtis taught you how to play. That moment felt like a lifetime ago now, so much having happened between you and Curtis to get to this carefree moment shared with friends. The sound of Claude whooping in victory while Grey groaned had you breaking from your thoughts, giving a shrug of your shoulder to the group as if you weren’t at all worried while you approached the table and prepared to take your turn. 

“Lucky shot Everett, now step aside.” Your hand pushed playfully against the wall of muscle that made up his chest, never really standing a chance at actually moving Curtis back a step but he purposely stumbled back like you did, giving you space to play. 

“Yes Pretty Girl.” He muttered, making Claude shoot him a ‘don’t you dare look’ and he smirked in response. You set yourself closer to the table, leaning into the move with a sharp hit of the follow through and as soon as your shot was done, you felt Curtis’s hands fall to your waist and while you eased up, you were able to lean into his chest, watching the balls scatter once more, not making any shots but helping line up some for Grey to take when his chance came. “Good shot Pretty Girl.” He watched over your shoulder calculating which ones Claude should take. 

“I'm happy with it.” You hummed out. “I sure as hell wasn’t going to be getting any at that time.” 

They watched Claude and Grey play, the two of them doing their own game of flirting. You and Curtis stayed off to the side, losing interest in the game at this point. 

“Pretty Girl, we should be werewolves for Halloween.” 

“Oh really?” You turned in his hold to face him, the two of you wandering further away from the pool table, the halloween music thumping louder and although you knew Curtis wasn’t much for dancing unless the two of you were at the house, you started swaying to the music playing. “Why is that?” 

His hands were flowing over your curves though, tracing you like he couldn't get enough of how you felt moving in his arms. “I bet we would have a howling good time together.” 

You busted into laughter at this one, making him laugh too. Purple People Eater started playing over the speakers and you tilted your head back to listen to the song. “Paulie! Purple Nurples!” You shouted out. Claude danced over to you, grabbing your hands and pulling you into her arms, the two of you bouncing in a childish dance. 

“Yeah, I got them!” He slid a tray across the counter towards Grey, who gathered up the bright purple shots to bring to the table you all had laid claim to earlier. Curtis took one and sniffed it, his nose wrinkling at the smell. 

“Damn that smells sweet.” He handed you yours while waiting for the go ahead to take it. 

“The grape jello, just be quick with it!” You tilted your head back and let it slide down your throat, Curtis doing the same. You reached over for two more, intent on finishing the tray before the song ended. “Hey Curtis, is it Halloween yet?” 

He took the shot, not as enthusiastic as you, but he was willing to stomach the shot once more for you. “Just a couple more days, Pretty Girl and then you can take out those fangs again.” His blue eyes raked over you suggestively, his gaze dark and wanting with his suggestion. 

“Good, Cause you can carve my pumpkins.” You grabbed his hands to lay them on your curvy ass cheeks, arching into his grasp as he squeezed his hands on you and gave a moan that bordered on getting turned on and exasperated at your last lame joke. A swift little swat to your ass made you wriggle against his hold all that much more. 

“How long have you been saving that one Pretty Girl?” 

“Since last week when I saw a tik tok video.” You admitted, tugging on his hoodie. The addition of the purple nurples made you warm and tingly all over in addition to the way you two had been throwing the suggestive touches and words all night. You must have been giving him a look cause the corner of his mouth lifted smirking, his mouth dropping to flush kisses along your jawline to your ear. “Backseat?” 

“You wanna?” 

“Pretty Girl…” His mouth pressed against the pulse point just behind your ear, eliciting a rushed breath as all those tingles and warmth blossomed in you, wanting, craving, needing more. “Always wanna.” His hand took yours, jerking his thumb over his shoulder when he turned to Grey and Claude in their own little world on the other side of the table, the pool game half played. “We’re stepping out for some air, meet back here in a bit?” 

Grey nodded, raising his hand in a thumbs up. “See you guys in a bit.” 

Claude, not quite caught up, raised a questioning brow in your direction but then when it clicked she mimicked Grey with a thumbs up. “Have fun!” 

Before you could respond, Curtis had you weaving across the bar. The two of you rushing into the cool October night. Maybe the purple nurples were giving you some tipsy confidence but you pushed him against the bar's brick wall, his back thudding and he looked down at you in surprise for half a second before cupping the back of your neck and pulling you up enough to kiss you hungrily. 

He tasted wild, a mix of alcohol and him, you ran your hands down his chest and grasped his belt to work the clasp off enough to push your hands into his jeans to rub at his cock through his boxers. Thick and throbbing already, he hissed against your lips while tilting his head back with a groan, his hold against the back of your neck falling to your waist, turning bruising in his lust. “Fuck Pretty Girl, don’t ever stop.” 

“Don’t plan on it Curtis.” You cupped your palm around his length, squeezing just enough to bring him pleasure but not as far as you knew he would want it. Teasing him was fun and you were enjoying the power he gave you over him. But it didn’t last long as he pushed you back enough to continue back to the car, digging for your car keys out of his back pocket since he drove you two here tonight. 

“Curtis… do you wanna play zombies?” You asked as you wrenched open the back door, falling back into the seat to pull yourself back, Curtis following inside to somehow get the door shut and hover over you. 

“What?!” He asked distractedly as you worked your shirt off and he was as well. But he managed to catch up and shook his head. “No? Yes? Why?” 

You giggled a bit, biting your lip as you snapped open the button of his jeans while looking up at him. “If you do then I will just lay here while you eat me.” 

“Oh god Honey.” He laughed hard, his shoulders shaking and his forehead coming to lean against yours, looking in your eyes. “That one was my favorite tonight.” His mouth pressed to yours and you both started grinding against one another. Curtis eventually dragged his mouth from yours so you could catch your breath while following the column of your neck to your collarbone, sucking a nice little mark there while you arched under him, offering yourself to him. He worked your pants open, starting to drag them off while continuing down your body. This time leaving little bite marks after your zombie comment. 

“Just like that.” You moaned while running your hands over his scalp and holding him to your chest after he tugged your bra up enough for your breasts to be free, your sensitive nipples aching pleasurably under his tongue, gasping happily when he dragged one into his mouth and pulled, making your legs wrap around his waist. “Curtis…” You arched again, your body feline rubbing against his now that you were practically bare under him, short of your pants hanging off one leg and your bra pushed up to be no longer practical on your chest. His hand braced against your back and he growled out. “Hold on Pretty Girl.” 

You grabbed onto his shoulders while he maneuvered you both, him in a seated position in the middle of the back seat and you straddling his lap, mouths still chasing after each other. Curtis worked his cock out from his boxers, running his hand up and down his length while you prepared to wriggle off his lap so you could go down on him. 

“Wat Honey…” He stopped you and tapped his hand against your ass. “Get up on your knees Pretty Girl.” You obliged, raising up and he ran a finger along the seam of your panties covering your cunt, sliding the slick fabric aside. “Did you know the human skeleton has 206 bones, Honey?” 

You watched him mesmerized, his hand sliding up and down slowly on his impressive cock, whimpering with want and need as you felt yourself dripping on his fingers slipping between your folds. “I did… but I could take another.” You squeaked as he teased your clit, ready to start practically begging when he let the tip feed into your entrance. 

“Good cause I plan on giving you another.” Curtis pressed you down onto him. You meant to laugh at this one, but instead it came out as a pleasured gasp, pressing your hands against his chest and grinding on him while adjusting to feeling him so deep inside. 

“Shit…” You hissed out. 

“Take your time, Pretty Girl.” He watched you with half hooded eyes, one hand resting against your waist and the other sliding up and down your folded thigh. “Fuck you are so beautiful just like this.” He praised, keeping still till you told him you were ready. But the way you were rubbing your clit against him and squeezing him, he just hoped you would be ready soon. 

“Mmhh so deep.” You let yourself raise up and back down, finally feeling confident in it. “Okay, I'm ready.” 

Letting Curtis go, he helped you ride him with constant praises, his hold helping you move up and down, rotating your hips which always felt so good your eyes would roll back, feeling every inch of Curtis pressed in you, full of him till you couldn't take anymore you were sure. 

You both sped up, Curtis snapping himself into you while you slammed yourself harder down, once in a while one of you would seek out each others mouths for messy grunting kisses but it all got to be to much and Curtis hugged around you to bury his face into your chest with a curse, both of you rushing for orgasm and it was a slamming pleasure that sucked the air out of your lungs. 

It wasn't till you collapsed against him that Curtis eased the two of you back, lounging in the back seat wrapped around each other comfortably. Your head laid on his chest and at some point Curtis did cover your back with one of your shirts to keep the outside chill slowly seeping into the car from making you cold. Your fingers traced his chest and went to fiddle with the chain. “How long have we been out here you think?” 

Curtis hummed lazily as if he couldn’t be bothered to consider that they were in your backseat in a parking lot. “No clue, you ready to go back inside?” 

“No, not really, I’m pretty comfy.” You said and the conversation went quiet for a moment. 

“Honey, I got one more for you.” Curtis broke the silence and you didn't bother to lift your head, also to comfy in the moment to bother. 

“Give it to me Curtis.” 

“I think I already did.” You glanced up to see the smirk of pride. “Okay, will you let a demigorgon in our bedroom?” 

“No.” You shifted in against him, sighing out a bit happily. “Why would I?” 

“Awww come on Honey, we have done stranger things.” Curtis dropped his punch line. Both of you were silent for half a second till you both broke into laughter. 

[summonerluna]

❄️| 🌈 | ☔

Putting this under a cut because it's long!

❄️Share a snippet from a WIP of your choosing.

From a New Orleans-style Irvine fic I started awhile ago. Vampires, Selvine angst, and GF lore with my love of the NoLA aesthetic mixed in.

It’s easy to get lost in this town. The streets are filled with more people than cars, people whooping with joy mixed with shouts from anger and intoxication. On the corner is a busker, trumpet blaring out Estharii jazz, and he can hear a group of kids playing plastic tub drums one street over. Music drifts in and out of shops, and the balconies lining the street are filled with people in restaurants or homes, commercialism and community and excess and poverty blending seamlessly in this place of old world architecture and new world technology. 

Rinoa leads them into a small cafe and Irvine buys her the promised coffee, and she takes his hand when they walk back onto the street. 

It’s comfortable, with Rinoa. 

They have always been the outcasts, after all. The ones with their memories, the ones without SeeD. In the early days, when everyone was still at B-Garden and they were in the hazy afterglow of the war, she got it into her head that she was going to make everyone the ham and cheese sandwiches Deling City is famous for; stuffed with horrible smelling cheese and smothered in some kind of sauce Irvine could never remember. And it would have been good—Rinoa was a surprisingly good cook—except Balamb’s markets were not exactly known for the rich ingredients most Galbadian cooking required. The result may not have been recognizable in their hometown, but Irvine appreciated her efforts nonetheless. He hadn’t realized he was homesick until he walked into the guest dorm she was staying in and was immediately hit with the smell of the countless food trucks he walked past every day during breaks from Garden. 

That was the first night he knew that SeeD was not for him. 

It was also the first night with Selphie, when he walked her back to her dorm, like he always did, but this time she invited him in. 

Now, he and Rinoa walk the ancient city streets, wandering in and out of shops, laughing at the overly commercialized attempts to profit off of the city’s sorceress legacy. Rinoa finds it amusing, the number of people crowding in, hoping to buy charms or spell bags, to take some of the Old City magic home with them, without realizing a genuine sorceress is standing right beside them. Irvine thinks they should really mess with people—that she should set some crystals aglow, or throw a little wind into the rafters and get the chimes and bells ringing, but stops when a dark look crosses her face, and she reminds him that not everyone is here to tap into their own magic; there are plenty who think they’ll be the ones to find a true witch and take her for ransom. 

Hours pass. It’s dark, and Irvine is tired, and they make their way to the waterfront. Rinoa is on her third coffee since leaving the restaurant, ice melting in a cut sitting beside her where she lays with her head in his lap, so fully engrossed in her book he thinks she has forgotten he’s even there. Irvine drinks a cocktail from a styrofoam cup and just watches the water, listening to the wind in the moss hanging from the massive oak above them. He is half asleep when Squall and Selphie finally return. He can’t get a read on them, can’t tell if their mission was a success or not. Squall looks tired. Selphie looks bored. Rinoa stands up and runs to Squall, and Irvine feels that same twist in his stomach he felt at dinner when Squall leaned in to kiss her. 

Selphie drops into his lap before he tries to stand, and he pushes the pangs of jealousy away, switching to a laugh instead, asking obvious questions he knows she can’t answer, and playfully kissing her neck while she laughs. 

“They’re leaving tonight,” she says, nodding towards their friends. “Squall needs to get back to Balamb. Think we should order room service on his account in the morning?” 

“Why wait until morning?” Irvine grins. “You never got to finish your dessert, after all.” 

“Is that a euphemism, Mr. Kinneas?” 

He winks and kisses her and starts to think that maybe Rinoa is right. Maybe it’s not silly to ask her to move. Maybe... 

🌈 Share something soft/fluffy from your WIP

Y'all know I don't really do soft and fluffy so this one is a bit of a challenge! But gonna go with a LoZ thing I'm working on:

When Link comes back to the fire, he crouches beside her instead of sitting, and she immediately recognizes the look he gets when he wants to ask something, and is arguing with himself over whether or not he should.

“What is it?” she prompts, smiling at him. 

“Do you want to go for a walk? It doesn’t have to be far. I know it’s late.” 

It isn’t that late of course, but she appreciates his concern for her stamina. “Yes,” she says. “I think I can manage a walk.” 

He stands up and extends a hand to help her to her feet. She shivers again as the blanket slips from her shoulders, and the ground has grown cold while she sat–and slept–beside the now-dying fire. Link catches the blanket before it falls and adjusts it so it covers her again, and she is once again acutely aware of how close he is. 

“Here,” he picks up her cup of tea and hands it to her, and takes a couple of steps, waiting for her to follow. 

He leads her around the small paddock set up for Saria, along the edge of the cliff that drops down into the creek. It’s dark, and more than once she worries she won’t see the edge of the cliff before she walks off of it. Link of course, won’t let her; it’s clear he knows the terrain with or without light. He reaches for her at one point, his fingers taking hers and steering her to walk beside him opposite the drop, and it’s a gesture so familiar, something they repeated so many times before, and she wonders again if this is something he remembers, or if the years and trauma between them still aren’t as strong as this natural pull to help each other.

“There,” he says, coming to a stop, and she stands beside him. Their hands are still touching, a couple of fingers interlocked. She can only just see the outline of his face in the distant glow of lights coming from his house, and he is looking out into a greater sea of blackness, at…

“Luminous stones!” she cries. Bright green and blue lights, most of them so far away, dot the valley otherwise hidden in darkness. “There’s so many of them! Oh, they’re beautiful.” 

She counts them, three here, two there, trying to gauge how far away they are. Certainly too far to get to tonight, but maybe soon…? She wonders if he remembers how excited she got, whenever they were traveling late enough to see the glowing stones. Is that why he wanted to show her? Or does he just enjoy coming out here to look, and thought she might as well? 

☔Is there a fic concept you have that you'd like to just explain and share because you're not sure you'll ever write it? If so, what is it?

The first long fic I ever started trying to write for VIII, was a post-game thing that ultimately formed a lot of my headcanons, but never made it past a bunch of scattered chapters, many of which later got frankensteined into things I have written since. But some of the main points from it were:

-A strong focus on Seifer and Rinoa, and their opposing post-game journeys. He ended the game a villain and her a hero, but mostly the fact that his dream had always been to be a Sorceress' Knight--they had been a couple, and in pursuit of his dream his lost her and then she became the sorceress, and Squall got everything Seifer wanted without even trying (in Seifer's mind).

-A big theme for me with Rinoa is that she left a life of privilege to fight for the oppressed, and then she ended up inheriting these powers that in recent history have only been used FOR oppression. Squall can't entirely see how hard this is for her, because he just sees her, and it can be a point of conflict between them (ironically he is the one guilty of almost toxic positivity, though it's mostly rooted in his fear of losing her)

-In contrast, Seifer is in need of a redemption arc, and this results in him being the only person Rinoa can confide in, because he's the only other person (save for Edea but the only person her age) who has had Ultimecia in his head, and really understands her terror. So he and Rinoa end up with this cross-fade between them, as Seifer moves away from his role and she doesn't exactly sink down, but she struggles and it causes problems for her.

Other things I wanted to include:

-At one point Squall assigns a blind contract to Irvine, and it turns out the contract is an assassination hit on Rinoa. Irvine "forgets" to block the sun from reflecting off his sights so Squall has a chance to react and blocks the shot (but is injured). It creates obvious tension between them, and sends Squall into a slight panic of realizing how easily that could happen again, and what the future of Garden and SeeD is, playing on his "I used to keep myself isolated because people might leave me and now I have people I care about and have to try and control everything I can so they don't die" struggle.

-Wimbly Donner is somehow involved because it's funny

-This fic also was where my Seifer/Ellone ship first came from, since Seifer first shows up after Squall is shot in the assassination attempt, where he has been in Esthar with Ellone and Laguna, and includes a scene that is VERY clear in my mind of Squall having a Ross Gellar "WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO MY SISTER" moment when he realizes Seifer and Ellone have gotten together.

A lot of these ideas have turned into other things, and there are some scenes I wrote that I really like and may eventually just share them as scraps. This story also taught me a lot about myself as a writer, and how I am just not someone who writes plot-driven stories. This story was way too much plot! I like character interactions and dreamy descriptions of place, and just couldn't figure out how to get my writing style to work with this many moving pieces.

[lorddarkkitty]

Leaving off from volume 2 the girls are at the top of the river after saving someone and these knights come and apprehends them. Saying that one of them for formed very dangerous magic that change the landscape. And about to erase their memory.

So Richeh flys into this knights arm and Tetia destroys the thing that keeping Agott and Coco tied up.

Tetia express that it isn’t right for them to not listen to what Coco and Agott have to say and Richeh express she hates adults that treat children like things instead of humans. And I’m absolutely living for it cause she is so right. They are human and should be treated as such. Quifrey also shows up behind the knight who name is Easthies and I hate him. Cause he comes off, how do I say super strict? but that doesn’t fit. But he was gonna act first ask questions later type. Like he talks about justice but was about to erase the mind of two INNOCENT GIRLS. And he insults master Quifrey. Any way the other adult that was with Quifrey (I might have to make a list of their names for reference cause I can’t remember atm lol) so the other dude like “uhh hey are y’all gonna stand around and argue or are y’all gonna help cause that’s the whole point of being a witch is to bring blessings to ppl without magic” basically that’s not a quote of what he actually said. So after the ppl been tended to Easthies questions Coco. Using ink and draws the sigil she used to turn the stone to sand. Basic. So Easthies examines Coco’s hands cause the “brimmed caps” would put sigil on their bodies for power ups. WHY WOULD COCO DO THIS IDK. I doubt she even knew you could put sigils on the body. But he finds nothing but an apprentice learning how to draw spells. And they leave. Good get gone Easthies you asshat of a witch. I don’t like him.

After that Quifrey tells the girls that they shouldn’t have used magic so dangerously close to non witches cause it could expose them and then they would have to erase peoples mind which is very delicate so they don’t want to do that. But also expressed that Agott should take the second test. He a good teacher … still have my suspicions tho lol.

It changed to Easthies and the knights flying through the air showing the destruction Coco spell has done and expressing that there will be a proper investigation cause he doesn’t trust that Coco didn’t do it even tho she 10 and just learning and that her spell shouldn’t be that strong. So some confusion there lol.

Then it goes back to Quifrey and the apprentices along with the other dude I don’t know his name, Oleruggio is it lol. They make a brigade of sand but before they leave Quifrey picks up Cocos hat and her ink bottle falls out. So he giving her a light scolding cause non witches can’t see that. And Coco expresses that she been using it but it still has fall as ever and Quifrey seems to figure out why Coco spell was so strong. We find out that t that the brimmed cap that gave coco the spell book, switched out her ink with blood. Which is gross and unsanitary and that’s how you get hepatitis C. I really want to know their plans for Coco cause what are u up to???

Anyway Qifrey has to take Coco back to Kalhn "b/c he forgot to buy cod a wand" when really he going to talk to nolnoa about the ink. Tartah brings Coco to this room filled with different powders all in a specific order (Cause we learn he has something called Silverfish Syndrome) Coco was getting excited about everything but then a big flash of light happens and lots of the shelves and jars get knocked down and over. the labels fell off so his grandfather is going to have to fix it. Sucks that this isn't a way to help ppl with this type of color blind condition. Qifrey also did something that he even says it shouldn't be done but erasing someone's mind. shame! shame! He looking for something idk what his goals are but that one eye hat witch find out and kinda takes back the ink.

Gonna fast-forward cause they learning and stuff at some point Coco gets a fever and collapses and needed to head to the hospital where Tartah happened to run into them. he had to return there cause he forgot his hat so he couldn't get on a boat to get home. a fire broke out somewhere and of course Qifrey and others witches help out. Tartah hat was in the room Coco's in. He tried finding someone to help but couldn't find anyone and he wants to help coco but there aren't any labels cause he knows what he can give her. as he goes to give her water he gets a jimmy neutron brain blast with the water holder? thingy?. he separates solids and liquids and is looking for the one the turns into a powder and he got down to three. and he starts to get upset and about to give up. My favorite part is that Coco tells him that That is what magic is for. "To turns things you can't do into things you can do!" Coco tries to draw a spell to help him but she obviously sick and gets embarrassed. However, the spell is good just needs some fine tuning basically. which Tartah suggests putting some symbols in certain places and he draw the sigil allowing him to see the original form of the powders helping him identify the herb he needed. only for a nurse to come see what he was doing in the room filled with medicines wondering why he was there. but that tranquileaf I think it was called was correct. I loved that Coco did her sickly best to help Tartah. Cause really what's the point if you can't make someone's life easy.

Also we see another character be introduced that is an embodiment of forbidden magic ....and it cause a cap and a hat ...with not visible person there..A GHOST LOL

[countrymusiclover]

38 - Switching Date Plans

Part 39

Family is More than Blood

@secretdreamlandmentality

Tossing the covers off of myself the sun was just starting to rise when I got out of the bed and got dressed for the day. Putting my hair up in a high ponytail I slipped on a black sweatshirt paired with some light blue jeans and white tenna shoes. Leaving the mansion I vamped to the front door about to step outside but when my hand touched the sunlight it burnt. Vamping back against the staircase I heard my husband’s voice. “I was afraid of that happening after you said you put your magic away.”

“I'm in no mood for a lecture from you, Niklaus.” I huffed, slumping my shoulders.

He stands in front of the fireplace, arms crossed over his chest. “It seems I do need to lecture you. You placed your magic away without talking with me first.”

“Um how about it's the fact that it's my magic!” I raised my voice, flashing my fangs at my husband.

Klaus shakes his head at me. He walked over to me keeping some distance between the two of us. “Fine, poor choice of words on my part. But I figured that this would happen. You took away your powers to not burn in the sun.”

“Okay so that just means I need a daylight ring. Shouldn't be a problem since we have so many witches at our disposal. Good day to you, Mr. Mikaelson.” I snapped vamping towards the door but he got in front of me blocking me inside the mansion.

He stared down at me, not moving. “Raelyn, I am not letting you leave until we talk this out.”

“You think you can stop me, ha what can you offer me that I can’t get on my own.” Putting my hands on my hips I laughed thinking he could control me. I assumed he would have learned his lesson after all these years we have spent together.

He reached inside his jacket drawing out a ring with a golden gemstone in the center, holding it between his thumb and index finger. “I had Missy spell you a ring last night. But I will only give it to you if you sit down and explain to me what made you think that you had to give up your magic.”

“Come on, Nik. Don’t be ridiculous…ah!” I reached for it but he tossed it into his other hand and held it above my head.

He tilted his head to the side. “I want you to remember that you said you would never give up your magic. You said as long as you could be with me you’d never do something so reckless.”

“And I also believed that I could be an actual queen like you promised me. Yet we live in the real world, don’t have crowns and don’t live or own a castle.”

The hybrid eyed his wife silently for a moment. He promised he would offer her the entire world at her feet if she wished for it. Yet he couldn't wrap his head around why he did something like this. She was nicknamed his heretic queen after all. “Let me show that you have more control over yourself than you realize.”

“But we know I'm a Ripper. Ripper's don't have self control.” I told my husband.

Klaus takes my hand in his, slipping the ring on my right ring finger. “I'll be here to pull you back in case you've forgotten. Once you can become one with your full vampire side you will have nothing to fear.”

“I don’t fear my vampire side, Nik. It's my witch one.” I mumbled before he held my face in his hands.

He rested his forehead against mine. “Both are connected, Raelyn. One cannot work without the other. You were meant to be a vampire and witch. Like I was meant to be a werewolf vampire hybrid.”

“You're right about that but I need time to myself now. I need to just be an ordinary vampire for a while.” Vamping around him I placed my hand on the door handle flinging it opened about to leave.

Klaus turned around watching me. “Where are you going?”

“To find the only friend I have who is just an ordinary vampire. Caroline Forbes.” I replied, vamping out of his sight.

Klaus ran his fingers through his hair needing to fix his wife. He knew she could handle herself but she wasn't her true self at this moment. He needed to find a way to convince her to take her magic back…but he had no clue where to start. He assumed his sister or Valerie most likely would have some answers.

Missy’s Pov

Sitting outside of the high school I was waiting for Ethan since his school day was about to be over with. Alina was still recovering in the hospital after giving birth. Hope was off somewhere doing something with Landon. Henrik was at the boarding school with my younger twin siblings leaving me basically on my own for the evening. The school doors opened with a whole bunch of people coming out but he found me sitting on the hood of his truck. “Hey M & M, this is a surprise.”

“Hey E, I got out of class early and my family is off doing their own things. So I thought I'd come steal you away for the weekend.” I jumped down from his truck, hugging him gently.

He smiled where I squeezed him back softly. “What did you have in mind?”

“There's this old lake house that used to belong to my moms friend Elena Gilbert that her family owned. But she doesn’t use it that much.” I shrugged my shoulders standing in front of him.

Ethan sent me a cheeky smile. “That sounds like fun. Is it just us going?’

“Yep.” I said climbing into the passenger seat and he got in the drivers seat.

He started the truck engine. “Oh I forgot to ask how is your sister after having her baby?”

“She’s resting in the hospital. Has a baby boy named Xavier.” I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket. Taking it out it was my dad video calling me. “Hey dad, what do you need?”

“I need you to babysit your younger siblings for a few days while I follow your mother to go meet up with Caroline.”

Ethan and I shared the same confused look. “Uh dad, quick question. Does mom know you are going to follow her to basically spy on her?”

“Well not entirely. But that isn’t important. I need you to babysit for me.” He cut me off.

I sighed leaning back in my seat not really wanting to stay home here for the weekend. “Dad, I would normally be up for it. It's just this weekend I was going to hang out with Ethan.”

“He's a good mate. He can come over to the mansion and babysit with you.” He still wasn't listening and wouldn't take no for an answer.

“Dad, I just said I don't feel like babysitting and mom won't be happy your following her considering she doesn't want to take her magic back just yet. You should respect what she wants.”

My father growled, flashing his werewolf eyes. “Melissa, this is not a debate.”

“It's okay Mr. Mikaelson. We can watch the young kiddos.” Ethan takes my phone from my hands pointing the camera at himself rather than me.

My father nodded while hanging up the phone. “Thank you, Mr. Machado.”

Ethan and I made our way over to my parents mansion and I already saw that my father had left with his phone and car keys to track my mother against what she asked him to do. Shutting the front door Ethan sat his bag by it when I huffed heading up the stairs. “I think we would be having so much more fun at the lake house than babysitting two toddlers and a kid.”

“Hey don’t worry about it. I don’t mind what we do as long as we can hang out together.” He responded walking beside where I opened the bedroom door of my twin siblings.

Pausing in the doorway I gasped not expecting to see a certain someone inside of our house. “Aunt Bonnie!”

“Long time no see, Missy.” She turned on her feet holding baby Charming in her hands leaving Rapunzel down in the crib.

I covered my mouth running to her after she laid my brother back in the crib embracing me in the same level of energy. “I can’t believe you’re here right now. Wait, why are you?”

“Your mother told me about the little ones trying to use their magic recently. I thought I should try to figure out their powers before calling Valerie back into town since she just saved your mother’s life with the Hollow.” Bonnie explains looking over my shoulder. “Who’s the boy?”

Ethan nervously waved to her. “Hi uh…I’m Ethan. Missy and I are dating.”

“He’s human and goes to Mystic Falls. But don’t worry he knows about the basics of the supernatural world.” I reassured her once we had broken the long time needed hug.

The falls witch smiled sitting down on the ground grabbing some candles and some blood that she had gotten from pricking each babies fingers. Ethan and I slowly sat down in the circle with her. She snapped her fingers lighting the candles around us. “Just so we’re clear, nothing that we find out can leave this room, Ethan. People in this town aren’t very good with finding out supernatural creatures live among them.”

“I understand. We’re in this together.” Ethan reached for my hand and I smiled, slipping my hands into my aunts, focusing my attention on the spell we needed to do.

Bonnie sighed, slumping her shoulders. “Just repeat after me….Phasmatos physium calva, Phasmatos physium cavla.”

“Agh! Uh Bonnie, is it supposed to hurt this much?” I questioned wincing while I kept my eyes shut. There were flashes of storm clouds and lightning appearing in my mind. I also saw two young kids who resembled my younger siblings and when they turned around I saw black energy coming from Charming's hand but bright gold energy from Rapunzel.

Ethan grabbed my shoulders yanking me backwards and Bonnie hit the bookshelf behind her needing to catch her breath too. “Missy! What the hell did you see in that spell, you and Bonnie both looked ready to pass out.”

“I don’t believe what I saw. It can’t be possible, Aunt Bonnie. Rapunzel being born good and Charming having dark magic.” Brushing my hair up into a mess I laid my head against Ethan’s chest.

The small town witch had finally caught her breath not knowing what to say to the young heretic across from her. She sat upright against the bookshelf still processing it herself before she ever responded. “I’m sorry, Missy. But this type of magic doesn’t lie. We have to tell your parents when they get back.”

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[gunmetalgrey]

@sorrowsick making me look bad bc I haven’t done my vampire lore:

* Alex was turned somewhere around 800 AD and therefore has experienced a lot of differences in her curse over this time. When she started out, the magic needed to keep her alive was a lot weaker and therefore she had less consequences for breaking laws/superstitions. Alex now also doesn’t drink fresh human blood which means she is weaker than someone her age (or older) who does. She’s still far stronger than baby vamps but it’s not easy.

* Alex was born a witch, and lost all ability to do magic when she died. You have to possess a soul to possess magic, which Alex doesn’t anymore.

* Sunlight affected Alex in the first 20/30 years after her transformation, these days it’s a mild irritation at best. If she doesn’t drink human blood, this is one of the symptoms that becomes far worse. She tried to drink animal blood for a while however she started to receive terrible scalding burns and had to switch back as the curse wasn’t able to sustain her.

* Alex doesn’t sleep, her body doesn’t know how to rest but she’s got quite good at meditating over the years and will often lie with someone else who is sleeping for hours unbothered.

* When triggered, her eyes turn black and her canines appear to grow larger. Usually her appearance is fairly normal apart from how pale she is.

* She’s cold to the touch and knows it can be a little off putting, so often wears layers to make people so do some into physical contact more comfortable.

* Alex has both super speed and super strength, to the point of being able to appear and disappear as necessary. Both of these increase as she gets older as long as she is drinking human blood, and both of these falter first when she refuses to feed.

* She can’t fly, although she can jump impressively long distances. She’s not sure if flight is a thing even older vampires have or just a rumour made up to scare children.

* Alex skin will burn on contact with garlic, and she experiences a migraine around religious symbols of she is not in the throes of blood lust. There was a whole phase where she went around eating priests despite the pain, it was a thing.

* Alex, at full power, can turn into a bat. This is usually used for comedy effect but she hasn’t done so since about 1890.

* She can enter homes without an invite, however she can’t harm the people inside unless she has been invited in. That’s where that trick has come from. Often witches will have additional wards that bar the soulless from entering, and Alex has had Mori work on some special spells around her own home to keep her family safe.

* She doesn’t show up in pictures of mirrors. She’s not sure of this is just her or not- it’s been this way since the invention of photography so she’s never known much different. She CAN see her own reflection in water, that’s about it.

* Silver is DEADLY to her. It will burn her skin in contact and piercing wounds will kill if the source isn’t removed. There are faint scars on her wrist from being forced to wear silver shackles for years that have never truly healed despite her condition.

* Other wounds caused by silver will take two or three times as long to heal. As she ages, the effect of silver only gets worse.

* Alexs methods of death are silver, wooden stake, burning and decapitation. Explosion is also a threat as if there is no body for her to come back to them she can’t. Pretty much anything else is fair game.

* Alex has aged ever so slightly, not that she would notice. Since 800AD, she has aged from 22-28ish.

* RELEVANT TO THIS VERSE- Alex has both a fascination and a fear of fire in this verse, it’s… weird.

* She has kept the injuries she had BEFORE she died, same with tattoos. She has a tattoo across her chest, and one on the side of her head but since the Viking age she has grown her hair back so that is always covered. She has a nasty burn on her right shoulder that is old and worn (it’s where her surgery scar would be in main)

* Alex has a few fun extra powers that have come about with age, such as: compulsion, mind reading, dream sharing. These are exhausting for her to use without drinking fresh blood and so these are used rarely. She can’t use these powers on other soulless creatures or protected magic users like witches.

* She has TERRIBLE bloodlust. Given this, alex doesn’t have much of a sire line. She has turned three people successfully in her life time, and all three are terribly linked to her. The problem is that her blood lust is carried down, so usually these poor vampires have died from attracting too much attention. One of her sire line is still alive and she is very much sire bonded with him, but that’s m e s s y. Again, Alex has no plans to turn anyone else ever.

[tinyhistory]

It’s the first of September! The first day of spring, which is my least favourite season on account of its unpredictability.

Anyway, here’s a snippet of a fic request I’m currently filling for @stargazing-enby who submitted it two years ago aaaagh

The office is tucked away in the suburban sprawl of Bexley. It’s an old terrace townhouse; the original staircase, a hefty wooden beast, smells of furniture polish. The floorboards creak beneath Harry’s feet. The reception room is converted from the front parlour, and still has touches of the home that was once there: a lace doily over a dainty hall-table, and faded curtains framing the window. Harry glances at the wall, noticing the vintage brass light switch. This was once a Muggle home, then.

“May I help you?”

There’s an elderly witch he doesn’t recognise at the reception desk. She’s peering at him suspiciously over her spectacles, one hand resting on a typewriter which is furiously tapping out letters by itself.

Harry looks away from the typewriter. “Harry Potter. Here to see Malfoy.” It’s a little petty, he knows, but he won’t use Malfoy’s full title. Cursebreakers love that. They love the showmanship of it. The little flourishes of their wand (completely gratuitous), the dramatic pauses (unnecessary) and of course, their amazed and grateful customers (audiences; the only thing missing is the applause). It’s why Harry won’t see Levinson any more, or Sheldrake, or Vittily. It’s why he ditched Fromer after just one appointment, and why he left Clarkson’s office without even beginning the appointment. One glance into Clarkson’s delighted face — ooh, the great Harry Potter! What fantastic publicity for my little agency — and Harry had turned around and walked wordlessly out the door.

Now he waits for the usual reactions. But the witch doesn’t widen her eyes, or glance at his scar, or nervously smooth her robes. She just keeps squinting at him, and then she says, “Henry Potter…”

“Harry.”

“Harry.” She frowns. “Potter with a P?”

Harry can’t imagine what other letter Potter might begin with: he pauses, then says, “Erm. Yes.”

She picks slowly through a little wooden box filled with small white cards. “Ah. Here you are. Eleven o’clock?”

“That’s right.”

She puts a neat little tick onto the card and then moves it to another box. “Take a seat. Tea and coffee’s across the hallway.”

He sits down on one of the straight-backed wooden chairs next to the dainty hall table. There’s a little magazine rack nearby, with very well-worn copies of Cosy Homes for Country Witches and Enchanting Gardens of Magical Britain. Once Harry thumbs through them and then finds a copy of Knitting Patterns for Thrifty Witches, he begins suspecting the collection has been generously donated by the elderly receptionist. He glances up at her, then at the grandfather clock standing ponderously by the door. It’s only been fifteen minutes, but perhaps Malfoy is sitting somewhere in a comfortable office, laughing at the fact he’s keeping Harry waiting.

The receptionist speaks then, as if sensing his thoughts. “Mr Potter? Mr Malfoy will see you now. Directly up the stairs, second door on the left.”

Harry dutifully goes upstairs. There’s a narrow hallway with a window at the end of it, showing a rather unspectacular view over the grey rooftops of Bexley. He passes by the first door, which looks like a cleaning closet, and then stops at the second.

D. Malfoy

5th Order HCJ (DefM)

Cert HM (C. II)

It’s a faded set of letters printed upon the frosted glass pane. The dark-blue paint of the door is beginning to slowly flake away. Harry’s annoyed, though he can’t pinpoint why. All the other cursebreakers he’s visited have had their name, bright and glossy, upon their doors, with CURSEBREAKER emblazoned in large letters below. They love that word. It’s exciting. Full of action and danger. Curse, and breaker. Destruction and glittering shards. Smashing spells to pieces and then getting called a hero for it. Of course Malfoy would love to call himself cursebreaker.

But instead Harry’s left to decipher 5th Order HCJ (DefM) and Cert. HM, C. II.

The door swings open suddenly, leaving Harry blinking at Draco Malfoy’s face. He’s seen him around in the years following the war — it’s hard not to, really, with the magic community as small as it is — but always a distant glimpse of a blond-haired man disappearing into a shop, or waiting for one of the elevators at the Ministry (and despite Harry firmly telling himself he’d outgrown schoolyard scuffles, he’d always elected to choose a different elevator instead).

Now, however, an awkward meeting seems inevitable.

Malfoy looks down his long nose at Harry and says, “Take a seat.”

Harry won’t give him the satisfaction of pausing. He walks into the office and sits down in the nearest chair; a squeaky relic from the seventies, by the look of the avocado-coloured vinyl and slightly rusted metal legs.

Malfoy closes the door and then sits at his desk, ignoring Harry and picking up a file instead. Harry had expected the cold shoulder, and anyway, it gives him time to look around. He’s been in plenty of cursebreaker offices. Large and grand affairs, with ceiling-length windows and bookcases lined with rare tomes, and little gold name-plates on solid-oak desks. And the trophies, of course. Cursed jewellery glittering in the sunlight. Beautiful dresses stained with unicorn blood. Portraits of subjects which whisper just too quietly to decipher the words.

But Malfoy’s office is small and neat and efficient as a Ministry cubicle. There’s two framed certificates on the wall, which give Harry his answer to the riddle on the door — Fifth Order of Defensive Magic specialising in Hexes, Curses, and Jinxes, and Certificate of Healing Magic, Class II. There’s no grand bookcase, but instead a simple row of tattered texts on a shelf above the desk. A filing cabinet, grey and mildly threatening, sits in the corner.

Malfoy says, without looking up from the file, “You’re here today because…” He turns a page, “…you’re not very good at your job.”

“What?” Harry asks incredulously.

Malfoy does look up then. His expression is blandly polite, which somehow only makes Harry more angry. “You don’t currently fill the criteria of your role as an Auror. Is that correct?”

“No, that’s not correct. I’m a fully qualified Auror — ”

“Says here,” Malfoy says, looking down at the page again, “That your supervisor has referred you here on the basis that…” He taps his finger against a line of spindly writing. “Let’s see… ‘Auror Potter requires further training in sensing areas of concentrated magic.’ Says last December, you walked directly into a ward and set off a Caterwauling Charm, which compromised the entire operation.”

“What? Well - what it doesn’t mention is that the ward was very well-hidden in a staircase — ”

“And in February, you tripped a jinx when you opened a door during another operation, which resulted in several minor injuries.”

“Yes, but it was — ”

Malfoy turns a page, somehow managing to do it loudly. The rasp of paper cuts through the air. “February again. Declared a room cleared when in fact it was still armed with a Severing Curse. Your partner suffered a significant injury.”

Harry looks away. That had been a particularly difficult incident, and the guilt still lingers. “I could’ve sworn that room was — ”

“March. Picked up a cursed wand, resulting in moderate burns.”

“I had to, I was trying to disarm — ”

“Which brings us to April,” Malfoy says, closing the file. The pages flutter shut. “Ran straight through a basic security ward, shattering it. Minor injuries sustained.” He finally looks up, his expression indecipherable. “Anything you care to add to these notes?”

“I do my job,” Harry snaps. “And I do it well.”

“Mm,” Malfoy says, and it’s maddening exactly how much condescension he manages to fit into a single syllable. “Well, that particular judgment is up to me, isn’t it?”

[g0kotta]

Hey!! How r u?? Can ya do hcs for wakasa or ran w a bilingual s/o? And don't forget to eat and stay hydrated 😁😁

Wakasa Imaushi and Haitani Ran with a bilingual/multilingual!reader

Hi! I’m good! Hope you’re doing well too! Thank you for requesting<33 this was so much fun to write since I’m multilingual

Crack? Idk this mentions fights, but not serious ones

Also GN!Reader

Haitani Ran

•Ran liked finding out new things about you. He always looked into your hobbies and listened to you ramble on the things you enjoy or dislike.

•He remembered them all and would buy stuff to support you and your hobbies. Let’s say if you enjoy art, he would buy supplies he knew you needed from one of your rambles.

•He was a great and supportive boyfriend. But his cocky personality led to most of your disagreements. And of course it’s normal, every couple fights from time to time.

•Now what he didn’t expect is for you to start cursing him out in another language. He didn’t understand a word you said and stood there baffled, his hand on his chest and stuff. He was so dramatic.

“Excuse me?” Ran raises his eyebrow and parts his lips a bit. “What did you just say?”

“I said that you’re a fucking idiot.” Your frown deepens. “Did you not listen to me or something? Here I was talking about how I feel and you missed out on half of the conversation! I can’t believe you, Ran.” Your arms were flailing around out of anger.

“Babe, I was listening to you. You know I always listen to what you have to say. You just.. Started talking in another language?” He clears his throat.

“Oh..Sorry.” you sigh and then repeat everything you said again, so he’d understand every good and bad thing you said about him and this fight that was happening between you two.

Ran was very impressed, but he’d have to wait for another time to ask you questions about what other languages can you speak in. And of course, he’d learn as many curse words as he could so he could curse out his brother, or gang members without them realising it, whenever they got on his nerves.

Wakasa Imaushi

•He would surely be interested in the language/languages you know and talk in. He would look uninterested, since his face just looks like that, but Wakasa would enjoy learning new things about you.

•He’d probably know about the fact that you’re bilingual from the Black Dragon days. Not because you told him or anything. No. Shinichiro did something dumb and that was the last straw for you. You got so mad you switched languages unintentionally.

•He found it funny at first, but then later on asked you many questions about it. After you calmed down of course. He didn’t wanna be in the same situation Shinichiro was in.

“Shinichiro you..(many curse words in whatever language you want it to be).” You were walking around the room, stressed out and angry. But nothing could compare to how scared Shinichiro looked. He was standing there in shame, but also trembling a bit.

“Are you.. putting a spell on me or something?” That earned him a slap on the head from Wakasa, laughs from Benkei and Takeomi, and more angry yells from you.

“Did you just call me a witch?!” You pointed a finger at him. Then you let out an angry sigh. “Y’know what. I’m done.”

After that you walked out of the building, still talking to yourself in another language, while Wakasa was tailing right behind you.

[josette-park]

Becoming You, Becoming Me

Summary: After touching a magic crystal, Penelope and Josie's powers are swapped.

Prompt: Body Swap/Role Reversal

Words: 1,171

---

Cataloging the school’s magic objects was a sucky job. However, when it was break and there were no classes, Alaric liked to give his daughters jobs to do. Lizzie was throwing out expired potions. Lucky.

At least Josie had help. Penelope wasn’t going to be leaving for spring break until the next day, so she had offered to help Josie. The job sucked, but it sucked less with Penelope.

“What’s this?” Penelope asks.

“Let me see,” Josie holds out her hand without taking her eyes off of her clipboard. They are still missing a few objects.

A shock jolts through Josie’s whole body the second Penelope places the object in her hand. She drops it in shock and looks at Penelope, who seems just as stunned as Josie.

“Did you feel that, too?” Josie asks.

Penelope nods, “Yeah, what did that thing do to us?”

Josie examines it on the floor. She does not want to pick it up again yet, as she's unsure of its purpose.

“I’m not sure,” Josie responds, “Can you examine it with your magic?”

Penelope holds her hand out in response to examine the crystal object. After a moment she looks at Josie with complete terror in her eyes, “My magic is gone, I can’t feel it.”

Josie pales. She puts her hand against the nearest magical object she can find as she attempts to siphon it with no success.

“I can’t siphon,” Josie says, as she turns to face Penelope and asks, “Do you think it took our magic?”

Penelope turns as she paces nervously, “I don’t know. We have no idea what that is. It could do anything, maybe it’s just temporary.”

“That’s pretty optimistic,” Josie notes.

Penelope places her palms on the wall as she takes some deep, calming breaths. Then, Josie notices something she’s only seen in herself and Lizzie.

“Holy shit, Penelope, you’re siphoning magic,” Josie stands in shock.

Penelope pulls her hands away quickly as she turns to Josie to explain, “I was just trying to feel my magic, and then I was doing it.”

“Wait a second,” Josie says as she looks down at her own hands. Now that she’s paying attention to it, she can feel the magic beneath her fingers. It’s different from what she normally feels from siphoning. The magic feels like it’s coming from inside of her, replenishing itself slowly, building itself up.

“What?” Penelope asks at Josie’s prolonged silence.

Josie sends a gust of wind at Penelope with her hand then says, “I think our powers switched.”

“What?” Penelope repeats.

Josie takes a deep breath as she explains, “I think that when we were touching the crystal at the same time, it somehow swapped our powers. That’s why it didn’t do anything to you until you handed it to me. You can siphon things and I have my own magic, well, yours.”

Penelope nods and she asks, “So this is how you feel all the time, you don’t feel that connection to nature and the world around you?”

Josie shrugs. She knows other witches who have lost that connection have mourned it deeply, but she’s never felt like she was missing anything.

“Okay,” Penelope says as she runs her hands through her hair, “We should just touch the crystal again at the same time and we will switch back.”

Josie picks up the crystal and holds it out to Penelope, who squeezes her eyes closed before laying her hand on the crystal.

Nothing happens.

Penelope peaks an eye open as she studies the crystal, “Did you feel anything?"

“No,” Josie says.

Penelope turns around and walks back to the wall, when she tries to siphon again, she is still able to. She hits her head against the wall and asks, “What are we supposed to do?”

Josie looks back to her clipboard. There are only so many things this crystal can be. She finds it and quickly makes her way to the library. She feels Penelope on her heels as Josie finds the right spell book. She flips through it until she finds what she’s looking for.

About halfway through the book she finds a page with a picture of the crystal that caused them to switch powers. On the other page is a spell on how to undo the work of the crystal.

Josie sighs in relief as she hands the book to Penelope. Penelope’s shoulders drop as she reads the book. Josie can tell she isn’t taking this well. She probably doesn’t like not feeling connected to everything like she used to be. Josie can feel that connection now, but it doesn’t feel like an integral part of her.

It’s a simple spell, it doesn’t even have any ingredients. It just requires two witches and the crystal. They sit down on the floor facing each other, the crystal between them.

Josie holds her hands out and asks, “Are you ready?”

Penelope nods and takes Josie’s hands in hers, “So ready.”

As they begin the spell, Penelope siphons a bit of magic from Josie so she can help.

Josie yelps and pulls her hands back as she accuses, “You never told me that siphoning hurt, I wasn’t expecting that.”

Penelope drops her hands to her lap, “Well, having your magic removed never feels good. Sometimes it burns, but the more you do it to me, the less it hurts. I’m sorry, it must hurt so much because I’m not used to it. I’ll try to go easier on you.”

Penelope holds out her hands to continue the ritual, but Josie keeps hers against her chest, “You let me siphon from you all the time. Why would you do that if it hurts?”

Penelope sighs, “It’s not that bad, you’re just not used to it. Plus, you don’t have your own magic, and I don’t mind sharing. At least, not with you.”

Josie looks at her girlfriend as Penelope holds her hands out and Josie finally takes them, “Fine, but don’t think that we aren’t going to talk about this when we’re back to normal.”

Penelope rolls her eyes, “If you insist.”

“I do,” Josie says immediately. After a moment, they begin the spell again. The feeling hurts when Penelope begins to siphon from her again, but now that she knows what to expect, Josie is able to keep a hold of Penelope’s hands as they complete the spell. 

When they have finished, Josie releases Penelope’s hands and places her hands against the floor, happy when her attempt at siphoning is successful.

Penelope is smiling when Josie looks up, she must be able to feel her magic again. Josie lives to see these soft smiles on Penelope’s face, she doesn’t show them often.

“All good?” Josie asks.

“Yes,” Penelope says, relief clear in her voice, “We’re all good.”

Josie wants to grill Penelope on why she never told her that siphoning hurts. After all, they do small spells together all the time. However, she just wants to revel in this moment with her girlfriend.

[folkloristico]

🌿how does creating make you feel?

🎀give yourself a compliment about your own writing

💞what's the most important part of a story for you? the plot, the characters, the worldbuilding, the technical stuff (grammar etc), the figurative language

🪄what is your post-writing/sharing aftercare? How do you take care of yourself or celebrate yourself when you've finished a fic?

💌share something with us about an up-and-coming work (WIP) that has you excited!

🌿how does creating make you feel?

For me, it’s a feeling of pure joy. The concept behind being able to create your own content to specifically cater to you that is simple, really, but there’s something fascinating and liberating about it.

🎀 give yourself a compliment about your own writing

I’m not really good at complimenting myself, but I’ve been told I’m pretty good at depicting emotions, so I guess there’s that.

💞 what’s the most important part of a story for you? the plot, the characters, the worldbuilding, the technical stuff, the figurative language

The characters! Though the most favorable option would be a good mix of both, If I had to choose, I would take character-driven stories over plot-driven stories without thinking twice. Granted, a plot-driven story doesn’t necessarily have boring character, but it can happen. And when it does, I can barely manage to keep going. The way I see it, you can have the most perfect, amazing, and elaborate world-building ever, but if the characters I should be able to relate to are boring, I just can’t. (Unless, of course, those characters aren’t meant to be relatable, but that’s another matter.)

🪄 what is your post-writing/sharing aftercare? How do you take care of yourself or celebrate yourself when you’ve finished a fic?

*looks nervously at her WIPs* finishing fics… we… we don’t do that here…

… But when I do, I don’t really do anything specific, I’m just glad that it’s over so I can move into the next project. Though I have to say, the WIPs I’m currently working on are bigger than most of the stuff I’ve written in the past few years, and when at least one of them is over I will be screaming internally, probably.

💌 share something with us about an up-and-coming work (WIP) that has you excited!

Ooh, I like this one!

A little bit of context here. The whole thing was born as an OS pre-canon/pre-the-other-WIP-I’m-working-on (that would be, the SotLK rewrite), but my hand slipped down a bit and now it’s a multi-chapter story, though I don’t plan to have it reach more than 30k words. I think of it as some sort of CoL-prequel-wannabe because it’s not really about CoL, but in a way it is since it deals with stuff from the earlier days to some time before the fall of Domino, but its focus is more on Daphne and her involvement in the war. It’s written both from Daphne and Griffin’s POVs, though I’ve been thinking of slipping some Marion in there.

A sneak peek I really like:

A piece of paper popped up from the pages of another book and it hovered over the table, circling on itself. It took Griffin a moment to remind herself that among the people in this room, Faragonda was the only one who knew a thing or two about runes, which were still very much a witch thing, though Griffin figured it was unlikely that Faragonda had been practicing her skills during the years.

“I have to ask, do rhymes serve some purpose in enchanting spells, or are they just something witches are fond of?”

Daphne tilted her head, her eyes running over the paper one last time before switching to her, a smile hanging from her lips. Griffin wasn’t sure it wasn’t a grin. For the greater good—not providing Oritel with a stroke—she barely kept her amusement for herself. 

This girl, seriously.

“Even the eye wants its part,” she said, letting the paper graciously fall to the table. “Or the ear, rather.”

[dracowars]

Really love your draco ficsss 🤗🤗🤗 i was wondering if you can make one before the war where draco obliviated reader then looks for her after the war aaaa would love to see your take on ittt tag me

remember me | draco malfoy

pairing: draco x reader

word count: 1,8k

summary: where draco obliviates y/n

a/n: while doing research for this one i didn’t even know that when you use obliviate, you can’t reverse it anymore if you’ve used the wand for another spell :o i guess you always learn something new lmao @belladaises i hope you like it! <3

warnings: angst, mentions of blood

universe: harry potter

Footsteps and screams echo through the dark corridors of Hogwarts as Draco finds himself in one of the hallways after apparating there mere seconds ago. Getting to the right place at the right time, he immediately gets hold of some of the Slytherins, including his friends, whom he pulls with him, informing them about his – or rather Lord Voldemort’s – plan. Draco knows what he has to do, but he also knows the consequences his actions will have.

His hands are shaking, and he is having a difficult time to breathe after they walked from one side of the castle to the other, wands drawn and always at the ready in case there are any emergencies or incidents on their way. What Draco did not expect, however, is that he will find you along his way.

With a pained expression on your face, you lean against one of the cold brick walls, about to lose your footing and to fall to the ground when Draco is already at your side and catches you in his arms before you can hit the hard floor. Previously, he quickly ordered Blaise and Goyle to move on without him and wait for him until he is done here. Carefully, Draco sinks to the ground with you and places you close to him in order to be able to take a closer look at you.

“Y/N! Y/N, what happened?”, he asks you with concern in his voice and already reproaches himself internally for not being here to fight by your side. But he knows that he can’t. After all, you are on the opposite sides in this terrible war.

Slowly, you raise your head and do not seem to recognize him at first, until your vision clears, and you look directly into his worried face. You immediately push yourself closer to him, his closeness bringing you some calmness and making you feel protected and safe, although walls are blown up around you while wizards and witches give their lives in the bitter fight for Hogwarts.

“D-Draco? You are here”, you breath out, your voice rough and strained from your previous screams. You had split up into groups to face the Death Eaters, but you were separated from them when a part of the ceiling fell down, several pieces burying you beneath them. The hope that is now reflected in your eyes upon seeing him, here and with you, breaks Draco’s heart. You really think he is on your side.

It is only when you groan in pain that Draco realizes that you are clutching your leg, which is covered in blood.

“Come on, I will get you out of here”, he whispers to you and helps you straighten up, the guilt plaguing him. You are badly injured, and he was not here to prevent you from getting hurt. Carefully, he puts your arm around his shoulder so you can move faster together than if he would carry you. Since it is not anything than safe here right now, Draco hurries to get you out of there as fast as possible.

“It is not as bad as it looks. I promise”, you try to calm him down, but once your foot touches the ground you twitch in insufferable pain and pull your foot back with a hiss, your hand immediately going to your tigh where it hurts the most.

“What happened?”

“I was careless and then a part of the ceiling buried me beneath it.”

The shock on Draco’s face is enormous when he realizes what could have happened, how it could have ended with you laying under masses of bricks with no one knowing. That he could and still can lose you in this bitter war for life and death. Briefly, he carefully inspects your leg – broken – and without any hesitation, he picks you up in his arms and carries you to a safer place. The safest place would probably be where all students, who do not fight, are hiding, but if Draco asked you about it, he would have to pass this very important piece of information on. And thus, he would also leave you to a terrible fate.

“You are safe here. For the time being”, he finally says as he places you at the end of a staircase that no longer leads to where it originally should, and kneels down in front of you, stroking his hand over your cheek lovingly. Shaking, you place your own on top of his and press his palm to your skin to feel its warmth.

“Draco, if we make it to the seventh floor then-“

“Do not tell me. Please”, he almost begs you. His pleading leaves you puzzled and slowly but surely makes you doubt why he is actually here. Gently, Draco takes your hand in his and places a delicate kiss on your knuckles. You sadly watch him until you bring up the courage to ask this one question that burns on your tongue.

“Why are you here, Draco?”

The realization hits you like a train, much more painful than the pain in your leg, when he just looks at you with glassy eyes and fails to give you an answer. Tears well up in your eyes when you notice that you no longer have your loving boyfriend in front of you, but your enemy.

“Why, Draco?”, you ask him desperately, the first tear already finding its way down your cheek, but Draco does not have the heart to look into your eyes, too scared to see the pain and disappointment in them. Sighing, he shakes his head, letting it sink.

“Everything will be fine, I promise”, he manages to say while his heart contracts in pain. Suddenly, he perceives voices that are still far away, but he hears them coming closer. With trembling hands, he reaches for your wand, which is sticking out of your boot as he has made his final decision. Confused, you look back and forth between him and the wand in his hand.

“What are you going to do? D-Draco? You do not have to do this”, you stutter out as he looks directly at you with his gray eyes which seem much darker now. Gray eyes that once shone with so much affection and now only radiate a tremendous coldness that makes you shudder.

“Now listen carefully to what I say, Y/N. You have to promise me that you will not use your wand anymore”, Draco explains to you, but you can only look at him speechlessly while tears run down your cheeks in waterfalls, not knowing what he will do next.

“I am so sorry”, is the last thing he says to you before casting a spell. “Obliviate.”

With these words, Draco pulls any memories you have of him out of your mind. Every shared laughter, every shared grief, he frees you from all of it. He frees you from the burden of ever knowing him.

With one quick movement he puts your wand back in its original place and quickly stands up, watching how your face loses all emotion as you abruptly stop crying over nothing. Before he can regret his decision, he turns away from you and looks into the corridor from which he previously heard the voices. At the other end of the corridor, he discovers Neville Longbottom, who is running through Hogwarts with some students. Clenching his fists, Draco walks in the middle of the corridor, facing them from afar.

“Neville!”, Draco shouts as loud as he can, immediately gaining Neville’s attention, who now comes running towards him with his wand drawn, ready to attack. Draco swiftly runs back to where you still lean against the wall, but just as Neville turns around the corner, Draco disapparates to another part of Hogwarts.

You are safe at last.

════════════

Surrounded by nothing but rubble and ashes, Draco wanders through the last remains of Hogwarts alone. His clothes are torn apart, and his face is soiled – all signs of the bitter fight that took place here before. But now it is over. They lost.

But Draco does not care who won or lost. He chose to switch sides in the end anyway. All he wants now is one more thing: to find you and to make sure you are okay. Every time he trips over a lifeless body on the ground, he looks away in fear that he may recognize your face in one of the corpses. Pressing his hand against his aching left shoulder, he walks into what is left of the Great Hall and a glimmer of hope builds inside of him as he recognizes Neville standing in the middle of it.

Quickening his pace, Draco walks towards him, his gaze fixed on the people he is currently talking to. When Draco gets to them, however, his heart sinks and panic pervades him as he does not see you. You are not here.

Desperately searching for any signs of you, he looks around, his pulse getting faster by the second, until Neville finally taps on his shoulder and points to somewhere behind him. Draco turns around immediately, only to see you limp into the Great Hall with the help of Ginny Weasley, improvised stabilization around your broken leg.

Tears of joy well up in Draco’s eyes and he cannot help but run up to you and close you in a tight hug that almost knocks the both of you off your feet. Draco exhales in relief, clutching his arms around your fragile body, glad to hold you in his arms again, until he notices that you are trying to push him away.

Realization his Draco and he abruptly moves away from you.

“What was that supposed to mean?”, you ask him reproachfully, irritated as to why Draco Malfoy almost suffocated you in a hug.

“I- Well-“, he stutters, but the fact that you actually do not know him anymore is driving an ache through Draco’s chest again. “Where is your wand?”

“Excuse me?”, you huff out, the confusion evident on your face, but Draco quickly reaches for you wand before you can react, which pokes out of your boot, as always. Internally praying that you listened to him and did not use it when he was not by your side, he reverses the Memory Charm and watches a white streak touch your temple, piercing through your skin before vanishing completely.

You blink once, then a few times rapidly, adjusting your eyes to the light and when your gaze falls on Draco, tears well up in your eyes right away.

“Thank God”, Draco sighs in relief and hugs you tightly, but this time you actually return the hug. Weeping, you claw your hands into his shirt, your tears wetting the fabric, whispering what an idiot he had been and that he should never do this to you again. But at this moment nothing else matters.

You survived and found each other again despite the difficulties and obstacles. And from now on nothing and no one will separate you again. Ever.

[inkedtae]

a brew of wings ⇾ myg. [M]

𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 ⇾ dragon!yoongi x witch!reader (f.)

𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝓇𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 ⇾  daechwita inspired, fantasy, magic realism, smut, fluff, angst-ish, hybrid au, shifter au, 18+

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ⇾  your tiny tea shop is the perfect front for harbouring hybrid fugitives

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 ⇾ 10.3k 

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ⇾ mentions of violence, mentions of abuse, mentions of captivity, mentions of death, hard dom!yoongi, lip piercing!yoongi, big dicc!yoongi, tattooed!yoongi, sub!reader, tea shop owner!reader, unprotected sex (wrap it to tap it), rough sex, a lil dirty talk, pet names, daddy kink, oral (m. receiving), multiple orgasms, begging, teasing, spanking, a lil choking, spit play, breath play

𝒶𝓊𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓇'𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒 ⇾ happy halloween!! speical thanks to selene (@jksangelic​) for helping me out a bit with logisitics!!! enjoy :)

♕ This is dedicated to @kkulmoon​. My bestest soulmate!!!

♕ banner/border by ⇾ @suqakoo (jiji is wonderful and deserves all the love and this is a beautiful banner)

♕ beta’d by ⇾ @nottodayjjk (a hundred kisses and thanks to this gems for always being there for me~~)

♕ le playlist 

In the humble village of Daegu, sandwiched between a blacksmith and mechanic, a tiny tea shop lives - exactly where Namjoon said it would be. But, not at all like his mother had described all those years ago. Technology has bled into every corner of her once little world. Yoongi wonders if she would still recognize it as he watches customers filter in and out from under his wickered hat.  The tea shop seems all too busy to resemble anything close to a hybrid asylum, but Namjoon was specific. Perhaps Yoongi shouldn’t trust knights of the king. Most have a reputation for hybrid mistreatment. However, there isn’t much logic in letting Yoongi run so far only to be captured in an obscure tea shop. And besides, Namjoon is a friend. Perhaps the closest he’d encountered in a long while.

“She’s going to scold you.”

“Nix loves me too much to scold me.”

Nix. The familiar name redirects Yoongi’s attention to the two men walking by him. The taller one, with features so symmetrical they almost seem unreal, rests a fishing pole over his shoulder. The shorter one, with the sharper tongue, carries a bag that clatters with glass. They enter the shop causally tossing curses at each other. Yoongi reaches into his pocket, unfolding the little piece of parchment Namjoon ripped to scribble on. 

utopia, nix, huckleberry lemon on ice.

One glance up at the flickering neon sign above the storefront attempts to spell Teatopia, but the first strokes of light seem to be dead. Instead, it glows atopia. Tremors of the midnight train suddenly resonate around the evening market. All lights flicker and dishes clatter, though the villagers' conversations carry on. Their affairs remain uninterrupted, eyes focused only on each other. Yoongi clenches his fists and digs his feet into the ground to steady himself until the train finally passes. When he glances back up at the neon sign, parts of the first ‘a’ flicker out to read utopia. 

Rolling his shoulders back, Yoongi bears his fangs behind sealed lips, as a precaution, then pushes the door open. A bell chimes. Patrons sit around velvet draped tables. They engage in  lively conversations, breaking steamed buns together and sipping on all sorts of tea. But, it’s the steady crackles of the fireplace that pique Yoongi’s interest. The amber embers beneath the flames soothe the heaviness upon his chest. One breathful of floral smoke, and he sinks into comfort.

That is until a black cat purrs down by his feet. Yoongi snaps his gaze down to find it circling between his legs then prancing off behind the counter. The two men bickering outside sit at the bar in front of a woman looking more unimpressed the longer they speak. Yoongi retracts his fangs, eyes fixated on the way your brows dance with annoyance. And that dress. He doesn’t care much for fashion but you seem to wear it differently, simply. Most people, much like him, travel with layers. Only a black dress clothes you, sleeves flourishing at your wrists and laces around your cleavage. Though, he really shouldn’t let his eyes wander.

Yoongi ignores the heat rushing to his cheeks as he approaches the counter. The black cat sits by the one-eyed register. Its tail swirls and emerald eyes remain on him. He tentatively takes a seat by a sleeping old man, a couple seats away from the arguing men. 

“Nixy,” the shorter one smirks. “You wouldn’t scold me, right.”

You, Nix it would seem, cross your arms under your chest. You hold a blank expression until the taller one sighs and grumbles, “He stopped for a pack of stray dogs.”

“Jin! You promis- He purposely mislead us to fish for a couple of hours!” 

Jin gasps then nudges his friend. “Guk, I swear I’ll kill you.” 

Guk scoffs, returning the shove. He stands from his seat and attempts to tower over Jin, only to get a hand slice to the neck. A quick exchange of smacking hands breaks out between the two, the sleeping old man beside Yoongi suddenly wide awake. 

“Land one in the gut!” He shouts.

Yoongi winces at the volume. He mutters a curse under his breath before his annoyed gaze meets yours. You watch him for a beat, two, three, then blink your attention back to Jin and Guk. A wave of your hand separates them with a slide back. Frustration still rages in their gazes. Yoongi holds his breath, diverting his gaze to the floor. Recognizing rage in others often triggers his hybridity. The dragon tickles in his palms as thick, black talons replace his nails. Yoongi shoves his hands in his pockets, eyes shifty, breath heavy. 

You bite your lip. Jin and Guk fall silent, their words cinching in their throats. “I don’t want to have to send Apolla to babysit you,” you sigh. The black cat purrs in hiccups, as if laughing. You let a smirk grace your lips, continuing, “This next batch needs to be delivered on time.” 

With a twirl of your finger, glass vials, now filled to the brim with multi-coloured herbs, float back into Guk’s bag. You, then, beckon the pouty men closer. They shuffle towards the counter. You tug two tiny crystal pendants from your charm bracelet and pin one on each of their sleeves. “These should help you stick to your path,” you mutter. “Soak them in saltwater once all the orders are complete.” 

Though they roll their eyes, both men nod in understanding. Guk offers an innocent smile, Jin a playful one, before turning to the door. Whatever spell you had over their voices seems to wear off by the time they exit. “Little punk,” are Jin’s final words. 

Yoongi’s hands clam with sweat as his talons retract under the cover of his pockets. He sighs heavily. Gaze shaking behind his short hair, he shifts in his seat. The old man’s snoring returns sinking in with the crackling fireplace seamlessly. Yoongi wishes he had this man’s freedom. The ability to fall in and out of sleep in a public place without fearing for his safety. Is it his identity or the shop that makes him feel this secure? 

“What can I get you?” 

He flinches. Meeting your curious gaze, he mutters, “Huckleberry lemon.” 

“Infused or blended?” 

Momentary panic flashes in his eyes. If you notice, you don’t make it known. “On ice.” 

The action is quiet, subtle, but Yoongi hears it clearly. Your breath hitches. You swallow thickly, looking him over once, twice, then ask, “On or in?”

“On.”

You wave a hand. The lights of the shop flicker out, candles taking their place. Yoongi shoots to his feet, talons and fangs returning. His temples suddenly ache where his horns should be. Oh yes, Yoongi remembers, Horns surface in defense too. Setting his jaw, he ignores whatever sentiment scratches at his throat and whips his gaze around the store, searching for the first attack. However, he merely finds the patrons preparing to leave. They seem all too familiar with the switch between electric to flame. A few of them even mutter curses under their breath. 

The old man stretches by Yoongi, to which he flinches. “Another rogue broomstick?” He asks you. 

“A mop,” you correct before tugging on your ear. A loud clattering boom sounds from the closest by the end of the counter. Yoongi jumps back, looking to you for an answer. You avoid his gaze. 

The customers bid you a goodnight. You smile, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. They swim with panic instead. Yoongi perks his ears towards you, instantly picking up the quick beat of your heart. It’s hammering, blood sprinting around its cycle within your veins. He glances down at your hands. Your nails have scratched their way to the edge of the wooden counter, knuckles tense as you grip onto it.

Once all the customers have left, you circle around the counter and ask, “Is Namjoon okay? What happened?”

Yoongi stumbles back, eager to create distance amongst you. “Yeah, he’s fine. He told me you’ll find me a place to stay.” 

“Where is he?”

“Seoul.”

You pause. Not a single breath dares escape you as you assess his word. Yoongi raises a brow. What exactly is your connection to Namjoon, he wonders. You went out of your way to find out as quickly as possible if anything was wrong. He licks his lips when realization finally colours your features. A bitter curse slips past your maroon lips. Without another word, you rush back around the counter and begin scribbling onto a loose piece of parchment. You roll it up once you’re done. “Apolla,” you call. The black cat leaps from counter top to top, landing by you effortlessly. You slip the note into her collar and whisper, “Make sure they read it and seriously consider it before leaving to the next, okay?” 

Apolla meows, rubs her head in your hand then jumps off the counter. Yoongi peers over the counter to see where she’s gone, but he can’t spot her anywhere in the candle lit darkness. 

“Do you have the note he gave you?” 

Yoongi snaps his attention back to you. Your back faces him again. He digs into his pocket and pulls out the tiny piece of parchment. You pluck it right out of his hand and roll it up with your own note then whistle a high melody. Distant hoots grow louder behind him. He looks to the door as it opens on its own accord. A black owl swoops into the shop. You tie the message to its left leg, offer the owl what looks like a rat tail, then send it off. The door shuts the moment it's gone, locks clicking. 

Finally turning to Yoongi, you tip your finger up and his hat falls to his back. Yoongi glares. Your sporadic writings and dismissals might have been interesting at first, but now he’s looking for answers. How is this witch supposed to help him? Namjoon promised he’d be safe here and, though the shop feels secure, you do not. 

“Agust Dragon,” you whisper.

Yoongi furrows his brows. His gaze shifts to the draped windows and locked doors. Who told you of his arrival? Perhaps this was a trap. Was it to see how far he could get, to have this entire little town witness his defeat? The cruelty of the king does not know restraint. If anyone was to lead him back to his mother’s village to further humiliate him, it would be the king. Yoongi rolls his shoulder back, inhaling deeply as his talons surface once more. Taking a step back, he asks, “How do you know that? He didn’t write that in the note.”

Your eyes glow with concern. Had Yoongi not been fixating on every change, he wouldn’t have caught the underlying tone of your gaze. It’s almost as if you’re questioning just how much he knows. You wave a hand at the radio. Through the speakers, a robotic voice informs, We interrupt your scheduled programming to alert a hybrid breach in Seoul. Agust Dragon has escaped royal captivity. All-

With another wave, it switches back off. “It goes on for a while about your scar too,” you add. 

Tremors of the taser used to detain him flash within his veins. The glint of that pearl sword blinds him with the haunting pain. Between those stone walls, he fully transformed. Had he known it would be the last time, he would’ve spread his wings wide, tipped his head to the sky and bellowed a cloud of fire. Within the smug, he’d inhale deeply and do it all over again. Perhaps he would’ve escaped then. Perhaps he would’ve endured more scars. At least, Yoongi thinks, I would still be a dragon.  

The clatter of dishes pulls him out of his thoughts. He blinks his attention back to where you stood, only to find you mixing something in a black caludon. Jars of various contents hover around you, some peaking at the mixture over your shoulder. Yoongi watches you move further in the kitchen behind the counter like you’re floating yourself. Movements so swift, sharp, susintically enchanting, he can’t take his eyes off you no matter how hard he tries. Your power is an outlaw to nature yet looks so natural. Is it a charm of who you are or who you’ve become?

“I’m not sure what’s nourishing for a dragon,” you say over your shoulder. “I try to adjust the glamour to the hybrid. There isn’t much about dragons.”

“Yet.”

The speed of your gaze to his soul makes him shiver. You don’t regard him with hostility, but something much worse: curiosity. The very bane of his existence. Only, hints of concern cushion the blow of this realization. Yoongi can sense your intentions in the way you calculate your words. You explained what you’re working on without prompting. You ensure he knows you’re here to help by mentioning nutrients rather than sedatives. Yoogni may not know you, but he knows Namjoon well enough to know that if he trusts you enough with this information, then you might not be as big a threat as your curiosity is. 

You return to the counter with a red and gold patterned teapot. The colours swirl around a white base in slithering motions. Yoongi assumes it’s a simple meld of lines until he makes out the bold eyes of a dragon. Shooting you a glare, he asks, “Is this a joke?” 

The smirk on your face does not comfort his annoyance. Whether or not you recognize this, is hard for Yoongi to tell. There’s something painfully unreadable in your eyes. You never regard him with pity, even if he knows his face is bruised, clothes dirty and hair smells all too strong to ignore. Something else laces your looks that soothes and riles him all at once. 

“It’s charmed to reflect your greatest desire,” you explain. 

Yoongi pauses, looking down at the teapot again. The wings of the dragon flap then spread wide, like gliding over the winds. He blinks back his frustrations, reverting his attention to the flower painted cup in your hands. Regret pricks his heart, his conscious scolding his tongue for lashing out all too quickly. Just because he can’t completely trust you, doesn’t particularly mean you don’t have pure intentions regardless. 

He clears his throat and mutters, “Sorry.”

After pouring dark violet tea into the cup, Yoongi watches as you squeeze a bit of honey in. You shrug his apology off while giving the tea a good stir. Sliding the cup towards him, you tentatively search his gaze and ask, “So, what did you see?”

Yoongi ignores the question. He keeps his attention focused on the tea, bracing himself before that first, initial sip. The moment the spice soaked chia touches his lips, he is thrown into a euphoric tranquility. Notes of cinnamon, ginger, anise stars and peppercorn evade his senses. His body voluntarily melts into the warm comfort spreading within. And that little bit of honey you added, offers just the right amount of sweetness, and that’s not something Yoongi particularly cares for. 

It takes pulling the cup away from his mouth for him to realize he’d drank it all. Face warm, he glances up at you. He’d never really met a witch before, merely seen them around. He doesn’t remember his mother mentioning any in Daegu when she resided here. They seemed to flock around Ilsan, near the wooded mountains. It’s rather common knowledge that the closer they are to nature, the stronger they become. Their strength usually also manifests greaty in covens. So, why is this one alone? 

Wiping his mouth, Yoongi holds the cup out. He may not completely understand your motives, but that tea is too warm to turn down. You smile and refill it. He takes another sip, removing the cup from his face so as to not to chug it all at again. You pick up on his actions and quietly giggle to yourself. Yoongi bites back a smile. Maybe it’s the tea, but he finds something about your laugh that’s all too pleasing. It feels familiar, a little sentimental, and profoundly personal. 

“What’s your name?”

He raises a brow. Was Agust not enough for you? Or do you know that it isn’t who he really is? “How did you-”

“You look like the cautionary type,” you interrupt. “The type to bear his fangs and talons on the slight chance that danger is just around the corner. So, I would assume you didn’t tell whoever caught you your real name.” 

And he thought he hid that so well. You’re smarter than he expected you to be. Or perhaps, more accurately, you’re more perceptive than expected. The longer he remains in your presence, the more he realizes he has completely underestimated you. Originally, you were just some middle maiden, redirecting lost hybrids upon a knight’s command. Now, Yoongi is starting to wonder if perhaps you’re the one in command. However, if you can sway knights of the king, why wouldn’t you use that power for something greater than relocating refuge hybrids? Why not destroy the system all together? 

Either way, your potential summons a ghost of smirk to his lips. “And why should I tell you?” His tone is almost teasing, but simply because Yoongi is curious now. How much attention are you offering?

You rest elbows on the counter and lean on your chin in your hands while trying to hide a smile. “I’m (Y/N).”

In a reactive loop, he mentally repeats your name until it’s seared into his brain. His dragon hums in approval, like it was expecting it, expecting you. Yoongi presses on. “What’s the point of Nix then?”

“A coven name burns into your soul,” you whisper. “Much like a dragon does when born.”

“I thought you said you don’t know much about dragons.”

You smile, rolling your eyes like he’s the one being tested. Sitting up, you turn back to the kitchen and ask, “Have you eaten?”

Yoongi barely parts his lips before you cut in again and call over your shoulder, “Or would you rather get washed up first? Hmm, that might be best. Finish your tea and I’ll show you to the bath.”

A snap of your fingers and the kitchen comes alive. You shut the curtains into the back, but Yoongi makes out the charmed sponges and dishes being cleaned. The closest that clattered not to long ago, opens just enough for a broom and mop to waddle out. They rush to the back, the mop bumping into the broom. For a moment, the two nudge each other back and forth, until your echoing steps scare them into continuing on their path to the kitchen. They slip between the curtains. 

In near silence, Yoongi sits alone in the shop. The distant spray of the sink only just breaks the hearth’s crackling concentration. Every sip of tea settles the fuming dragon. It’s something about the spicy kick and earthy tones of mint - at least he thinks it’s mint. He wonders what gives it this violet colour. Is it the magic? Is it you?

It’s rather odd, now that he thinks about it. Three days of travel, of near survival only to find solstice in a cup of tea. Perhaps that’s the true magic you offer. A sense of peace is a sip away? Or maybe it’s the lack of concrete walls and iron chains. His mother would enjoy this tea. His father would look forward to the food. But Yoongi craves the steam of a bath, the warmth of a pillow. And the dragon within yearns for your presence. If Yoongi wasn’t so sunk in tranquility, he’d search for a reason. Alas, he cannot be bothered. 

“You ready?” 

The chime of your voice snaps his gaze away from the teapot. Yoongi glances down at his cup to find it empty again. Why can’t he every savour the taste? 

With a nod, he hops off the stool. “How far is it?”

You toss him a confused look. Nodding towards the right, you reply with a chuckle, “Just a couple of steps.”

The teapot and cup hop off the counter and into the kitchen as Yoongi watches you disappear down a hallway. You return with a half-smile, regarding him as if he’s the strange one, enchanting dishes and speaking in half-truths. 

“Well, come on!”

A sharp retort sits on the tip of his tongue. Yoongi swallows it before it can cause more damage than necessary. Orders don’t resonate too well with the dragon. It burns his throat with disobedience. There is a better way to do things: his way. He doesn’t particularly like being forced into another. Still, he follows in silence. 

You lead him to the tiny office that looks more disorganized than anything else. Layers of loose parchment and letters bury a mahogany desk. Dried wax, leaked from overused candles, splatters over every surface. Blankets atop a sapphire and opal patterned carpet lay in disarray. You bend over in front of him, his face reddening and eyes shooting to the ceiling, to find cobwebs and burned lights tangled around the beams. With a grunt, you flip up the carpet and a little hatch appears. A stomp, two, three and it clicks open. A dark staircase makes itself known. 

“After you,” you smile. 

Yoongi furrows his brows. Are you insane or simply numb to your own oddities? He’s having a hard time deciding when you flash him such an innocent smile. Glancing back at the dark staircase, even his dragon begins to question your sanity. “You want me to enter this basement first? The hidden, dark basement?”

It takes a moment but his point finally dawns on you. Brows shooting up, you let out a nervous giggle and decide to enter first. “It’s not a basement,” is all you offer as a means of comfort. Or at least that’s what he thinks you say. You’re about halfway down before saying anything at all, voice distant and echoing. 

Where else can he go, he wonders. It would be hard to find a hidden place after being spotted in the town. He doesn’t even know the terrain that well and there isn’t just some tree he can climb or cave to scurry into. You’re unfortunately his last hope for safety. Perhaps you just have a skewed version of it. Yoongi just hopes it's not as skewed as the king’s. 

Against his cautionary judgement, he descends. Each step beckons him closer to warmth, a reality he wasn’t expecting. An orange hue dances against the stone walls as he reaches the last few steps of the spiral staircase. 

You’re right. Again. It’s not at all a basement, but a home. Yoongi inherits the serenity, familiarity and security the moment he arrives. Book shelves galore, candles a plenty and belevenance at every glance. You move around the living room with a pillow and a stack of blankets. Dropping by the foot of the emerald couch, your attention falls back to Yoongi. In his dirty clothes and unwashed hair, he feels so out of place from the purity your home radiates. 

“The bathroom is just down that hall,” you say, pointing to one of five hallways on the right side. 

You’re odd. Yoongi didn’t think that would be something he’d respond to. He nods as a thanks, ignoring the way your generosity strokes his heart. Perhaps, he wonders while shuffling down the hall, humans are wretched. And witches, the so-called horrors of horror, are benignant. Or, it could just be that you are. Either way, Yoongi has witnessed something tonight that he hadn’t in a long time. Acceptance. 

He spares you one last glance, hand hovering over the brass doorknob. You’re holding a wand and attempting to transform the couch into a bed. The dragon reminds him that you don’t know him, where he comes from, how long he’d traveled, or what he’d done to be chained. All you know is a friend sent him here and his hybridity makes him undesirable. Such a luxury, the dragon whispers, to trust and be trusted. 

Agust doesn’t like to talk about himself. You learned this quickly. After the first night, you tried to pry again. Who else escaped? How long had he known Namjoon? Any chance he’ll be offering that name now? But, he won’t budge. Sometimes, when he’s tired of all your questions, he’d walk away. The excuse is usually that he’s looking for a book, but you haven’t seen him pick up anything besides an anthology of flight. You decided to give up all together, not daring to ask the real question on your mind, like how he got that scar. 

Other times, however, he’ll turn the questions onto you. Maintaining eye contact, he’d listen to each answer and engage in a little conversation about each point. Three weeks have elapsed, and you still have yet to decide if this is part of his diverting tactic or if he’s genuinely interested. In both cases, it’s good to know that he’s willing to have a conversation about something. 

It’s also reassuring to find that he’s adapted to your routine seamlessly. He mentioned something about wanting to help out around the shop his third morning in Daegu. The look on his face was too precious to deny. Curious, unsure, tentative, he muttered the question like it meant everything and nothing to him all at once. You were wondering if he knew that Apolla still hadn’t returned with news then, but now you’re sure. He glances at her food bowl every morning, as if looking for signs of her presence. 

Three weeks is the longest she’d ever looked for a safehouse. You expected that not many people would want to harbour a known fugitive, but hoped that someone would. Most hosts recognize the danger of associating with a hybrid. The consequences are the same - execution. Perhaps risks run higher when a face is attached to a name and continuously circling the news. 

Your greatest regret, however, is how relieved you are that he won’t be leaving. Sure, Agust is stand-offish and too blunt at times, but there’s just something about him that reels you in. The rasp of his voice, the indifferent wonder in his eyes, how he walks like he rather be flying is endearing. He almost floats with determined desolation, like he digs the very hole he’s in to get out. The deeper he is, the stronger he becomes. You’re not sure if you find that admirable, but it’s something merely Agust-esque. 

He leans on the counter now, reading that same anthology again. You’re sure this is his fourth time through it. He still soaks in every word and takes his time with each page. A customer approaches the counter with a bright smile. You stop cleaning one of the tables to watch Agust deliberately ignore him. Being a dragon, he can sense when someone is near and how they might be feeling.You know this from the stories your coven would trade. Dragons, being a rarity, are something like gods to witches; you haven’t really met one before Agust. 

“Good evening,” the customer greets. He hops onto one of the stools as Agust ignores him. His smile wavers. “S-sir?”

“Shh.”

The customer blinks. He looks around as if wondering if he’d really just been shushed. “I would-”

“Shh.” 

You sigh, muttering a quiet plea to the gods under your breath. Then, you catch it, the smirk plaything on Agust’s lips. It’s so tiny, hidden behind an annoyed persona, that if you hadn't been paying such close attention you would’ve missed it. He’s not ignoring the customer to gain a reaction out of them, but out of you. And for some odd reason, that makes your heart skip a beat. 

Agust flips the page then finally acknowledges the customer. An amused look holds his features as the customer stutters their order. “Orange basil?” He questions, hints of disgust drenched in his tone. Before the man can part his lips to reply, Agust sighs and shrugs. He looks at you, and raises a brow. It’s rather teasing, silently asking why you’re staring. 

After wiping your hands, you carry the tray of teacups and little teapots back to the counter. The magic takes over once you stand by Agust. He follows your every movement, eyes lingering on the sway of your hips for a few seconds too long. 

“Jimin,” you greet, ignoring Agust like he had done to the customer. 

He picks up on your actions quickly, a quiet chuckle escaping him. “Suck up,” he whispers. 

“Is he supposed to be behind the counter?” Jimin asks. He avoids Agust’s gaze, knowing his question would earn him a glare. 

“Not with an attitude,” you reply with a bright smile. 

Agust rolls his eyes, prepared to chuckle until he hears Jimin laugh. He sighs as if the daily customer is intruding. Within seconds, his interest in the conversation falls. That cursed anthology consumes his attention all over again. 

You mask your disappointment with business, turning to the kitchen. The caldron already heard the order and began it’s brew just as you have enchanted it to do. Agust knows this. He’s watched you recharm the pots every morning. And every time you run back here, you know he notices. Sometimes you can feel his eyes following you when you walk away from him. There’s a faint pull in his gaze, like he’s pleading for your return to his side. At times, you find yourself longing after him too when he’s in such close but distant proximity. 

A quiet hoot shatters all your thoughts. You rush back to the counter in time to find the door burst open and Grako swoon in. Agust already had his gaze locked on the glass, his inner dragon probably having picked up the thumping flaps of feather in the wind. 

Some customers gasp and duck agains their tables. You ignore their confused stares, knowing they’ll chalk this up to one of your strange quirks. Grako lands on the counter, scaring Jimin enough to make him jump out of his seat. Agust enjoys the sight a little too much. 

“Can you get the seeds by the sink for me?” You ask Agust, hoping to grant Jimin a moment without ridicule. Without a word, he makes his way to the kitchen. 

You fight every instinct to follow after his frame and focus on the owl. Searching for Namjoon’s reply, your heart sinks when you don’t find parchment on the left leg. Your message looks untouched on the right. Untying the string holding it together, you unroll the parchment to find the unchanged message. 

Agust sets the sealed bag of seeds on the counter. Grako turns to face him. You do your best to suppress a shaky sigh, but Agust hears it anyways. He ignores the owl eyeballing him and shifts closer to you. The action surprises you enough to distract from your worries. Agust never cared for less distance. Yet, he stands close enough to feel the warmth of his breath fanning over your shoulder. 

“What’s wrong?” He mutters.

Though you want to tell him, you know now is not at all the right time. One too many pairs of eyes lock on you, various ears perking in your direction. You force a smile and shake your head. “Nothing at all,” you reply in the steadiest voice you can muster. 

He nods. He doesn’t believe it, but nods. “How often do your charms work?” 

You raise a brow. “Often.”

“So are the sponges supposed to wring sink water all over the floor?”

Agust is clever. You never doubted this. He’s perspicacious, calculating and above all downright angelic. However, you try not to let that last detail overtake you too much. It’s just that pierced lip and dark tattoo peeking from under his tunic stun you from time to time. The messy hair, undercut and dark, and that scar that lure you more than they should. It’s all too pure to be so rough, much like his personality. 

No, wait, you’ve gotten ahead of yourself again. Agust is clever - yes. He knows just how to get his way with you every time. Anything he wants, you usually offer. His reference of rogue cleaning supplies is just one example of his advantageous perception. Tugging on your ear, you sent the sponges acraze around the kitchen. A cacophony of broken dishes and spilled cauldrons echo throughout the shop. You wonder if you tugged too hard or perhaps used a stronger spell than intended. Did you even recharm the sponges or the entire kitchen? 

All conversation halts to the loud mess transpiring behind the curtain. Agust nudges your elbow, reminding you of the switch to flames when enchantments “malfunction.” You mutter a quiet, oh then wave a trembling hand to the ceiling. The lights flicker a few times before the half-hearted spell finally works. 

“But-” Jimin tries to say only to have Agust hush him again with a finger upon his lips. Jimin sighs, following the rest of the customers out. 

Agust waits for the doors to lock before fully facing you. “So?”

You’re not sure what Agust’s relationship was with Namjoon. You always assumed it was closer enough to trust, but how close is that for Agust? Did Namjoon know his real name? The last thing you want to do is sadden him with your assumptions about your best friend’s silence. However, as you part your lips to lie, you find you are simply incapable of the action when it comes to Agust. It’s not just that he will automatically catch on, but that the act itself dries your mouth. It would feel awkward to lie, perhaps even disgusting. 

“He didn’t reply.”

“It’s been gone for a month.”

“I know.”

He searches your eyes. Fingertips hovering near yours, he inhales half a breath. “Maybe he went back to Ilsan?”

Namjoon told him about Ilsan? Your heart festers with jealousy, regrettably towards Namjoon. If Agust knows of Ilsan, then Namjoon must know his real name. The fact that you didn't mention a name at all in your note might have tipped him against replying. You know Namjoon well enough to know he would take the safest option. Is that where Agust picked up his cautionary habit? No, you mustn’t entertain this petty frustration. So what if Namjoon is closer to Agust than you are? They probably spent more time together too. Another wave of annoyance attacks your chest. That possibility seems to irk you more than soothe you as it was meant to.

Sliding the piece of parchment and a pen towards him, you mutter, “Write your name. The one he’d know.” 

Agust pauses. You don’t spare him a second glance. It’s childish, you know, but you can't help but be a bit peeved with him. Your mind is actively reminding you that Agust and Namjoon are their own people and do not need to have a smaller relationship than you and Agust do. Your heart can’t shut up about it though. It invades your thoughts with questions that attack your insecurities. Have you been too nice? Too mean? Too lazy with your magic or too powerful? Is he intimidated or simply more comfortable around men than he is around women? Feeding Grako from the seeds in your palm, you clench your jaw and attempt to purge these thoughts from your mind. 

Doubt is poisonous. You wish you had an anecdote for this sort of suffering. 

“I don’t want to.”

“Well, he doesn’t believe you’re really here,” you all but snap. “So either scribble the stupid name or let him die.” 

Your drama makes you cringe. Being too aware of your stupidity in the moment might just be the very worse detail about this cursed conversation. 

Agust scoffs. Inching closer, he towers over you. Jaw set, eyes dark with amber rage, he whispers, “You’ll refrain from using such a tone with me if you know what’s good for you.” His calloused fingers trace the outline of your face, as he continues, “I don’t want to warn you again.”

You shudder against his frame. Gulping, you muster whatever courage you have left and mutter, “You’ll refrain from using such threats with me.” You take his hand in yours and squeeze gently, letting your magic tickle his bloodstream. He shivers as those black talons reappear. You feel their impression against your wrist. “If you know what’s good for you,” you finish. 

Agust waits, watches. Adam’s apple bobbing, he nods once. His attention returns to the parchment. He scratches his name, blows it dry, then rolls it up like you had weeks ago. You tie the note to the right leg again. You hope your assumption is correct as you secure the knot. After tossing Grako a rat tail, to which he effortlessly catches, you send him off again. This time he is Ilsan bound. 

“Who is Namjoon to you?” Agust asks once the doors lock shut again. 

You wave a hand to the kitchen to fix whatever disarray you accidentally set it to then answer the question with one of your own. “Who are you to him?”

“A friend.” 

You weren’t really expecting an answer. He usually sulks when you toss a question back at him. So, you begin to wonder, why did he answer this one? What is so important about your answer this time? 

“A best friend,” you smirk. 

He rolls his eyes. “Does getting on my nerves fascinate you?” 

You shrug. “Usually.” 

“Just answer the question.”

“I did.”

He sighs and you mock it, earning a pointed look. “Did you meet in Ilsan?”

“Yeah. We grew up together,” you answer. Though you love to tease him, you can never keep it up for too long. You always end up giving into him at some point. “We were neighbours. The coven didn’t really like him lurking around me though.” 

“Was this his idea?”

You raise a brow. “I thought you were friends?”

“You’re enchanting,” he suddenly blurts. 

When your face falls in shock, his cheeks heat up. His words seem as though they are registering for the first time. How enchanting are you exactly?

“What I mean is,” he tries again. “You have the tendency to get your way from anyone you’d like. Jin and Guk have made all glamour deliveries on time, Namjoon rounds up hybrids for you to relocate all over the kingdom, and you recruit every animal you find.” 

“Not every animal,” you playfully pout. “Just the useful ones.”

Agust rolls his eyes. Accepting defeat, he shuts his book and tucks it under his arm. For a second, you think he’s about to say something. But, he merely licks his lips and avoids your gaze. If you didn’t know any better you’d think he’s upset with you. 

Later, during dinner, you start to believe your assumptions. Agust seems to focus on everything but you. The beef stew, garlic buns, kimchi, ginseng tea, even pulling out that stupid book again. Never has he opened those pages at the table, always offering you at least sliver of attention. Maybe you have no right for feeling this way, but his disregard for you twinges your pride. 

“Is there a reason you’re staring?”

And that tone. You’ve grown rather sick of it, frankly. He sulks around the house, around the shop and grumbles half-hearted insults. Though you know they’re usually playful, you can’t ignore the festing frustration in your chest.

His eyes gleam with the dragon within. “We both know I can sense your anger.” 

“Shut the book.”

“No.”

You raise a brow, silently suggesting a possible source to your anger.  Agust shuts the book. 

“Happy?”

“Ecstatic,” you sarcastically smile. 

He stares for a moment then shakes his head. “I’m not sure why you’re so angry,” he says while picking up his plate. 

You charm it right out of his hands as he stands from his seat. He glares. You return it. When he reaches for his cup, you wave a hand at it as well. Both dishes hover to the sink. The game carries on until all the dishes float back to the kitchen. You toss a mocking smirk and ask, “Enough flying for you?”

“What do you have against flying?” 

It has your attention. “Nothing.” 

“You’re a terrible liar. How you’ve gotten away with all this hybrid hiding all these ears is beyond me.”

You quirk your head to the side. So he knows this operation has been years in the making. Then what was all that questioning about? 

“If you have something to say, then say it,” he baits after taking his seat. He almost sounds like he doesn’t think you will. He should know you better by now. 

You stand up and circle the table. Leaning against the edge, towering over him, you cross your arms under your chest and disregard all filters. “How did you escape?” 

He scoffs. “Namjoon helped me.”

“Yes, but how?”

A certain darkness falls over his features. He gulps before letting out a shaky sigh. “He was guarding my quarters. We spoke often.” Then he falls silent, eyes reverting to the floor. A moment elapses, two, three, by the fifth he takes another deep breath. “My last night was hard. He told me that he was working on permanent relaction in Ilsan. Something about how the mountains are safest. But after that night, I don’t think he was willing to wait for the right moment anymore.” 

So, that’s how he knew of Ilsan. Shame settles over you in heavy waves. You avoid his eye in regret. Even after that, you know you shouldn’t pry. But you continue to ask anyways. “What happened?”

He glances at the anthology. “They took my horns,” he mutters so indifferently you think it’s a joke. Still, you don’t dare laugh. Not when his face is riddled with embarrassment and disgrace. 

“Then, I was forced into a full transformation,” he continues. “And clipped.”

You gasp. He lets out a breathy chuckle. “Don’t be so dramatic, (Y/N).”

How can he be so lighthearted? No- you mustn’t question his ways of coping. Regret engulfs you as you look to the stupid book again. Perhaps you shouldn’t have been so pushy about it. You’ve heard rumors in the coven, about clipped dragons. You just didn’t think anyone would ever succumb to such cruelty. 

“I won’t tell you things if you’re just gonna cry about it,” he grumbles. 

You’re crying? Rubbing your hands against your cheeks, you’re surprised to find them wet. “Sorry,” you chuckle. “I just can’t believe they really-” 

“So this wasn’t your idea then?”

Shifting closer to him, you wipe away all your tears and shake your head. “Namjoon found me the day I opened. I told him in a letter that I’ve borrowed a home under the shop. A couple of hobbits told me about it on the train from Ilsan.” 

His hand slips into yours, stunting your explanation for a moment. You gaze down at them, finding the warmth all too welcoming to vocalize any curiosities. His thumb brushes against your knuckles, as if attempting to soothe your worries. 

“Is that how you relocate us? Through tunnels?” 

You nod. “He���s a knight of the people. Just like he vowed to be.” 

Agust sighs. He stops the smoothing touches and redirects his eyes to the floor. “I’m Yoongi,” he whispers, then quickly changes the subject before you’re able to comment on it. “My mother is from Daegu. I thought I’d find her here even though I know where she’s buried.” 

Yoongi. How precious. You repeat the name over and over again until it seers into your brain. A sudden tug to get close gnaws at your heart. A part of you wants to sit in his lap, but another is trying desperately to convince you how bad of an idea that is. The fact of the matter is, though you appreciate the honesty, you can’t help but wonder why he’s telling you all this. After a little over a month of half-sentences and playful teasing at most, he’s suddenly willing to spill all this out to you? It doesn’t make much sense to you, but you’re too afraid to ask. The last thing you’d want to do is downplay his honesty for something material. 

Alas, it seems like you don’t have to ask though. Yoongi already knows. 

“I want to tell you I don’t know. But, I think you might be the first person in a very long time to not care.” When you furrow your brows in confusion, he lightly chuckles and clarifies, “You are clever enough to know my name is not dragon, despite popular belief, and couldn’t care less that I am one. I’m just Yoongi to you, even if you didn’t know it.” 

You cannot deny the allure of him anymore. Hearing him speak of you like this, like you’re the only thing that matters, does more to you than you’re willing to admit. You press your thighs together before slipping into his lap. He wraps an arm around your waist like he’d been expecting this. Yours dangle off his shoulders like you’d been made for this. 

He looks so painfully holy up close, like a fallen god. The scar through his eye crushes your guts with anger. He’d seen so many horrors, perhaps even endured most of it. You know it is not because of the dragon. The determination in his gaze, the desire to survive roots further down than any mythical side of him can touch. Yoongi made it this far because he wanted to. And what do all his efforts leave him with… clipped wings and horns? You can’t sit back and watch him pour himself into this anthology another second. It’s clear he misses his wings, even his horns. 

“Yoongi,” you start, mind sifting through memories of dragon lore. “I think I can bring your wings back.”

He falls silent. A breath doesn’t even dare escape him. “You keep telling me you don’t know much about dragons.”

“I don’t have any physical books about them or dragon hybrids for that matter, but most covens revere dragons. The greatest stories among us are about how magical you are. A piece of you in any potion heightens the effects tenfold,” you explain. 

“So what? You just so happen to have a spell to sprout wings?” 

He’s mocking as a defense. You know this though it still doesn’t stop you from rolling your eyes. “Not exactly. Reproduction spells are tricky. They don’t require the typical notions of a dragon that any other spell might. They tend to be a bit more…” you trail off, eyes dancing all around the room just to stay off him. Shifting on his lap, you suddenly find it all too awkward to be seated here. 

“More..?” 

Perhaps you shouldn’t have brought this up. “Intimate.”

You expected to hear him retch in disgust, or maybe even cringe. At the very least, you expected his face to fall. Never did you think it would light up, no matter how badly you hoped it would. 

“Intimate?” He repeats. “How exactly does that work?” You’re about to answer when he adds, “Show me.” 

Heart fluttering, you swallow thickly. Your guts churns with desire, core drenched in desperation as he continues to regard you with cocky indifference. Is he joking? Testing you? You pray to any god listening that he’s serious. 

“We should probably fire the caldron first,” you whisper. “The base needs to brew for a while.” 

Yoongi nods. “I’ll make sure to give it enough time.” He attempts to hide his smile. You push yourself off his lap and try to ignore how needy you become from a few simple words. You can feel him watching. Body shaking, you’re not sure if you're bursting with excitement or simply anxious. Yoongi seems to have made you feel both throughout his stay here. 

Deep breath in, and you bring both hands up to light the fireplace. The charmed calderon fills to life. Rosewater to start; sweet thyme, cloves, wolfsbane, knotgrass and a hint of ginger to brew. Yoongi makes his way towards you, silently watching all the ingredients pour into the black pot. 

“When is it my turn?” 

Skin ablaze, you bit your lip to hold back a moan. “The witch’s essence needs to be added too,” you mutter all too quietly. 

He hears it anyways. “Even better.” 

Your nerves are all he can sense. The smirk on his face tells you that much. He’s playing because he knows he can. He knows he’ll get away with it and there isn’t much you can do about that. Unless… there is?

He did ask you to show him how the intimacy would work. You start to unlace your dress, biting back a giggle when his breath hitches. Did he think you wouldn’t do it? 

Over and off, goes your dress. In a soft thump, it lands on the wooden floors. Yoongi sighs, eyes shamelessly roaming over your naked body, fixating on every dip of your curves. His balls his hands and makes it a point to keep them by his side. The shift in power makes you giddier than it should. 

Raising a brow, you ask, “I thought you wanted to see how it’s done?”

Yoongi chuckles. He licks his lips, looking off to the side for a moment then pulls his shirt off. The symbol of Min inks in arm like a sleeve. A royal dragon. The abuse makes all too much sense now. Not that it has ever been out of place for the king to do such a thing. He thumbs your chin, gently asking to meet his gaze. 

“Do you still want to restore my wings?” He asks, like his status could ever change that. 

You decide to show him how badly you do on your knees. Hands fiddling with his zipper, you undo his pants and let his massive cock smack your face. Yoongi gasps a moan; your pussy clenches with need. How dare he make such a sound so effortlessly? You just might cum from his voice alone, if he keeps this up. And who told him it was okay to be this thick? He’s so heavy against your cheek, pointing at the soft flesh like it belongs to him. 

His eyes gleam, lips stretch into a smug smirk. Well, don’t you? He seems to be silently asking. 

Mouth open, you carve a taste. Is dragon cum as sweet as everyone says? Tongue over slit, and you can confirm that it is. Your eyes roll back and whines escape like it’s your first time. It’s just one taste but you can’t hold yourself back. Spitting over his cock, you pump him a couple of times then shove him down your throat. 

Yoongi groans. His fingers tangle in your hair. At first, they move in gentle motions. The gesture is enough to tell you not to strain yourself. But then you make the mistake of swallowing around him. Your throat tightens all too deliciously for him to merely watch. Like a switch, Yoongi unbounds himself. His nails dig into your scalp, and hips snap forward. 

You gag. And he loves it. Every wet, choked sound struggling to keep up fuels the force of his thrusts. He loses himself all too quickly to even realize that he’s suffocating you. Hands against his thighs, you have to pat him a few times before he returns to his senses. 

In an instant, his hands are by his side again as he pulls out. You let his cock rest on your tongue as you pant. Through your blurred vision, you can only just make out his concerned gaze. “Sorry, princess,” he hisses. 

As if you thought that honey-thick voice couldn’t get any raspier, he goes and calls you his princess. A loud moan leaves you all too quickly. No one has ever dwelled on you like that. Is his objective to ruin you before the spell casts? 

While brushing your hair back, he chuckles down at you. Your soul fills with the undeniable desire to please this man beyond comprehension. You want to hear him whisper how tight you are, tell you how well you’re doing. Until pride glows every inch of your heart, you will not stop choking on his giant cock. 

You take him all at once, again. Throat burning, a part of your regrets not working yourself up to committing to all of him. Back and forth, you bob your head on his dick. So big, he barely even fits. Every new thrust means squeezing himself through all over again. It beckons tears to your eyes and strains your jaw. You’re aching, but he’s twitching.

Face scrunched in pleasure, Yoongi throws his head back. “Just a little more, princess,” he hisses. Pulling in deep, he keeps your head still against his pelvis and whispers, “Hold it there. Just stay- fuck, do it again for Daddy, princess.” 

Anything for daddy, you wish you would scream. You force yourself to swallow twice more than he asked for, risking a gag too big to ignore. Through gritted teeth, he roars like a dragon in heat and unloads himself in your mouth. Most of it slides down just from how deep he’d reached, but the rest spills out from the corner of your lips. 

He doesn’t care. Pulling out, he continues to pump himself at the sight of you. Hair disheveled, cheeks stained with tears and mouth smeared with cum, are you really this big a whore? Or is it all just for him?

You’re granted a moment to catch your breath, watching him watch you with newfound wonder. Vein laced hand, inked and sticky with his own cum, Yoongi pulls you back up to your feet by your neck. He pats your hair down, wipes your lips, then presses a tender kiss upon them.

It’s now that you notice he has always smelt like charred oak, musky and smokey. Everything about him sets you aflame, And though, your lips are on fire from the taste of his, the cold edge of his piercing cools you enough to miss the heat. You moan and drape your arms around his neck like this is some innocent kiss and his erection isn’t poking at your belly. 

“Is there any particular way I gotta fuck you, princess?” He questions between sloppy kisses. 

You force yourself off him long enough to answer, “Hold me over the pot. We have to cum together for it to work.” 

He smiles, jerks his head back when you try to kiss him again. A twinge of embarrassment strikes your heart before he turns you around and softly trails kisses up and down your neck. “You’re gorgeous,” he murmurs into your skin, rough hands kneading your ass. “Fuck, I knew you had an ass but this is fucking insane.” 

A smack follows his praise. You cry out his name. He spanks you harder. “You know that’s not what you’re supposed to call me right now.” 

You giggle through an erotic moan. He doesn’t like the sound of that. With one hand tight on your neck and the other wrapped around your waist to hold you in place, Yoongi kicks your feet and spreads your legs. Gliding his girth between your folds, he hisses against your ear, “You’ll learn to behave yourself from now on, princess.” 

You want to tell him it was never your intention to disrespect him. However, the slow, deliberate punishment he inflicts melts you into him in silence. All you can bring yourself to whine is, “Whatever you want, daddy.” 

“Mmm, that’s right. That’s my perfect princess,” he whispers. Then, he sucks in a sharp breath with you and plunges himself in your tight cunt. You knew he wouldn’t fit probably in your mouth, but you thought that your pussy, sopping for attention oh so desperately, would easily accept him. It’s your fault for underestimating such a massive cock. His tip doesn’t even fit. Yoongi takes to bending you over for a smoother entrance. 

“So huge!” You cry only to have him chuckle behind you. Vibrations of his laugh tickle your spine.

Once he finally pushes his way through, breathless moans and groans filling the space between, he gives you some time to adjust. It;s thoughtful of him, but you both know no amount of time will ever get you used to his godly size. 

“Please just ruin me, daddy,” you beg, through a broken whine. 

“What was that, princess?”

“Please, please just fuck me!”

Tightening his grip on both your neck and waist, he rapsys a dark laugh against the shell of your ear. You shudder, thinking you might just cum now until he starts to ram you. You jerk forward each time despite his hold on you. His hips always overpower everything else. Rough smacks of skin on skin drown your voice until it’s completely gone. You cannot even bring yourself to properly breathe. He’s a beast. Huffing your name, clenching his jaw and sinking his balls into you, Min Yoongi makes it his mission to destroy you. 

“Pretty, pretty little girl,” he hisses. “My pretty princess.” Grinding his hips against your ass, cock swilling the mess he’s making of your pussy, he suddenly breathes, “I wanna make you my queen.” 

Leaning back into him, you find just enough strength to muster the first words that come to mind. “I’m gonna hold you to that, daddy.” 

He moans, softening his hold to shower your face with gentle kisses. A reflection of comfort and familiarity glow in his eyes when he pulls away. His hands slide down to your thighs. He bends a little to hosite you up against  him. With your legs spread, he holds you over the calderon and picks up that wickedly rough pace again. You place your hands over his and let him ravish in you. 

Slouching, your pussy tights with every new thrust. Doses of you are already dripping into the brew as it boils. Yoongi curses. You thought you felt him twitching a few minutes ago but now you’re sure. In fact, you can even see it. He’s so big an imprint of his cock bulges from your stomach. You watch it twitch again as he shoves his balls deeper into you. 

Just witnessing it, triggers your orgasm. You try to hold it off long enough to let him know, only to have Yoongi barks, “Fucking cum!” 

You’ve never been one to deny him anything. Convulsing, you let your orgasm run free through you. Yoongi digs his fingers into your thick thighs to keep you steady, all while continuing to ruin you. It seems as though cumming spurs him on to further plough into you. He moves with harsher force and speed than he did when he was annoyed. 

He mutters something else in your ear, but you can’t make anything out. Your ears ring, vision blurs and you tremble all over. Toes curled and pointed to the sky, you cry out his name. And, as he pulls out of you to let out leak your mixed cum into the potion, you whisper the spell under your breath thrice. 

“Kiss me,” you whine. “Quick.” 

Though lacking his title, he doesn’t argue. Lips on lips, you drip out your love and seal the spell. 

The cackles of the potion break your kiss. Yoongi sets you back down to your feet then steps away from the heat. You lean back into him, watching the calderon overflow with steam and gleam green. 

He pecks your shoulder and wraps his arms around your waist. “So, there really is a potion,” he chuckles quietly to himself. 

“What do you mean? Why would I lie about something like that?”

Yoongi shrugs. You push your ass back against him, teasingly. He tightens his hold with a playful smirk. “I just thought you wanted me.” 

“I do,” you whisper without much thought. 

A relieved smile, gummy and too cute to resemble anything you just did, stretches upon his lip. You peck his chin to which he blushes. Min Yoongi blushing is not a sight you were prepared to see, erupting your heart all too easily. 

“Never speak of this,” he tries to grumble indifferently, but that smile is still playing on his lips. When you go to tease him again, he says, “Will this even work?” 

You shrug. “Only one way to find out.” Enchanting a cup, you snap your fingers to beckon towards you. You fill it to the brim with the potion then hand it to Yoongi. 

He hovers the rim against his lips. Lost in thought or deliberation, you’re not sure. All you can tell is that it seems as though time has frozen for him. 

“Yoong-”

“I don’t want wings,” he sighs. You blink back at him. He takes a breath before adding, “Not now, anyways.”

You look back to the pot, wondering if the entire thing might have been a mistake. He drops the cup into it without much care for the brew that spills and cups your face. “I don’t want wings tonight. I want you.” 

“I’m right here?”

“I remember a little about what it was like to fly. Being with you reminds me of that,” he whispers. 

Tear prick your eyes, disbelief holding your voice hostage. “Me?” You croak, in confusion. “Yoongi, I-”

He holds you closer and suddenly all your words die in your mouth. You’re not even sure what you were trying to say. Pressing his forehead against yours, he mutters your name like a prayer and whispers, “You’re all the wings I need.”

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