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her-satanic-wiles · 7 months

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Day 31 - Halloween

Monster Fucking, Ghost!Papa Emeritus III x Plus Size!Reader

Masterlist

Words: 14.2k.

Warnings: Teratophilia/monster fucking; graphic depictions of blood; graphic depictions of death; graphic depictions of beheading; detailed grief; major character death; death of a loved one; haunting; public sex; teasing; fingering; vaginal fingering; not actual dubcon, but dubcon elements (a character’s hand gets grabbed and squeezed during a scene, but the character has no idea what’s going on); groping; nipple play; public cunnilingus; squirting; hurt/comfort; partner worship; praise kink; vaginal sex; piv; possessive Terzo; implied depression;

Taglist: @sodoswitchimage @enchantedbunny @bitchywitchygardener @thew0man @sodomiser @the-did-i-ask @copias-sewer-rat @gehrmansbignaturals @deetz-ghuleh @onlyhereforghost @zombiesnips-blog @saturnhas82moons @starscream-squarepants

Author's Note: Hello, lovely!

I just wanted to take this time to thank you profusely for your support every day this entire month. It has honestly meant the world to me that you're taking the time out of your day and enjoying my content.

I wanted to give an extra shout-out and super thanks to @da-rulah for not only beta reading a bunch of my fics and making sure you could understand my droning, but also giving me inspiration when I needed it and helping me workshop ideas on days when the list just wasn't working out for me.

Also major thank you to @copias-sewer-rat and @sodoswitchimage for constantly being in my replies and reblogging the fics and just generally being gorgeous people. I appreciate you two so much for consistently hyping up the fics.

One final thing before I let you enjoy this final piece, I just wanted to double check that you've read the trigger warnings and are comfortable enough to proceed. This is dark fiction, horror based with graphic depictions of poor mental health and physical violence, and I want to make sure that you're aware of this before you go ahead. As this is dark fiction, I will be rating it 21+, so I kindly ask you to respect this rating.

Thank you so much,

Mel

🔞 MDNI 🔞

You sat in the dimly lit room, surrounded by the remnants of your shattered world. Your body was cloaked in his clothes, his suit jacket that he’d intended to send down to laundry hanging off your body. His scent lingered on the fibres, comforting you even if it was just momentarily, and his Grucifix hanging from your neck and resting against your soft breasts, a small weighted comfort that you couldn’t liken to his touch - it was too cold.

The suffocating weight of grief consumed you, its tendrils winding around your every thought and breath. The image of his lifeless body, his head cruelly severed from his shoulders by the unforgiving hand of the Ministry’s authority, replayed relentlessly in your mind, tormenting you with its vivid brutality. The look in his lifeless eyes haunting you to this day every time you closed yours. The feeling of Cardinal Copia’s hands on your body, trying to shield you from the horror you were never meant to see. The sound of Imperator’s voice claiming pity for the fallen Papa as she stepped away from his pooling blood so her shoes wouldn’t soil. Her hearty tone of congratulations aimed at her estranged son, while you wept on the floor, reaching out for Terzo’s lifeless body.

With trembling hands, you reached for the Ouija board, the only thing you had left to reach Terzo. The board felt cool and smooth under your fingertips, its letters and numbers arranged in a circle, an eerie portal to the unknown. You had heard the whispers, the warnings about meddling with forces beyond your understanding, but your need to speak to him, to find any sliver of solace in this maelstrom of despair, drowned out the cautious voice within.

The room fell silent as you placed your fingertips on the planchette, your breath caught in your throat and mind silencing itself in order to fully focus on the task at hand. You closed your eyes, trying to summon the fragments of his memory, his voice, his touch, anything that could guide your hand. Your voice, shaky and grief-laden, calling out to him in the abyss. Your soul was crying, begging, screaming for anything from him, nursing a heart that broke further with every second that passed, every second that he didn’t make his presence known to you. Tears began to well in your eyes, the hopelessness overwhelming your senses. “Terzo, please!” You begged to the open air, eyes pointed skywards even though you knew Heaven wasn’t his final destination. “Come back to me.”

A sense of unease crept over you, the air thickening with an unseen presence that seemed to seep through the cracks of your fragile reality. The planchette shuddered under your touch, then began to move, its deliberate motion spelling out words that echoed like whispers from a distant, forbidden realm. The tears you were shedding as the planchette moved froze alongside your blood, as your eyes focussed on the board in front of you, unbelieving it was actually moving.

Your heart quickened as the letters formed a message, disjointed and cryptic, a reflection of a presence that both frightened and thrilled you. The room grew colder, shadows dancing along the walls, and you felt a chilling breath on the nape of your neck, as if unseen eyes were watching you from the darkest corners. Despite the mounting terror, you couldn’t bring yourself to let go, to sever this ethereal connection with the one you loved.

A sudden gust of wind extinguished the lone candle, plunging you into absolute darkness. Panic surged through your veins, but even in this black void, the planchette continued to move, etching out words that seemed to emanate from a place beyond the realm of the living. It was then you’d realised that in your panic, your hands had left the planchette, breaking your physical connection to the board, and yet it was moving now of its own accord; spelling out messages to you that were shrouded in darkness. The darkness hid the messages from you, but the deafening silence made sure you could hear every single scrape of the wood against the board.

The room seemed to pulse with a palpable energy, a presence that surrounded you, enveloping you in a web of otherworldly sensations. You realized, with a dawning sense of dread, that this connection you had forged was not just a bridge to the afterlife, but a gateway to something far more sinister, a realm where the line between the living and the dead blurred into an indistinguishable haze of terror and despair.

“I close the bridge!” You shouted, your voice trembling with fear. “I close the bridge. Goodbye.”

You forced the planchette to the goodbye in the bottom corner and ran for the lights. Your fingers fumbled in the darkness, searching desperately for the light switch. When your trembling hand finally found it, you flicked it on, and the room was once again bathed in an artificial glow. You squinted, your eyes struggling to adjust to the sudden brightness, and as the shadows receded, you realized there was nothing else in the room. Only you, surrounded by empty walls that seemed to close in on you, suffocating your already fragile spirit. But your eyes fell upon the board, the planchette still sat atop “goodbye” as though nothing was wrong - as if your feelings of dread were unfounded and childish, as if it was taunting you.

A sense of profound isolation settled over you, deeper than anything you had ever felt before. The stark emptiness of the room now felt like a reflection of the void within your own being, the absence of your beloved Terzo amplifying the desolation that threatened to engulf you. There was a hollowness that echoed through the air, a palpable absence that seemed to seep into your very bones, reminding you that you were utterly alone in your torment.

A sudden chill swept through the room, the hairs on your arms standing on end, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that something lingered in the shadows, something that watched and waited, biding its time. The light, once a source of reassurance, now seemed feeble, unable to dispel the encroaching darkness that threatened to swallow you whole. It was as if the very fabric of reality had shifted, revealing a sinister undercurrent that had always been there, just beyond the reach of your perception.

You realized then, in the harsh glare of the light, that the Ouija board had not brought you solace, but had opened a door to a darkness that threatened to swallow you whole; and as you stood there, surrounded by the emptiness of the room, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you had invited something insidious into your life, something that hungered for more than just a fleeting connection with the world of the living.

In the subsequent days, the unsettling occurrences began to multiply, each one chipping away at the fragile facade of your sanity. Objects would shift from their original places, relocating themselves without any logical explanation. A book left on the table would inexplicably appear on the shelf, a photograph moved from the mantle to the bedside table. You knew you hadn’t done it, yet there was no one else in the confines of your home within the Ministry walls.

The air itself seemed to thicken with an otherworldly presence, a feeling that someone, or something, was always lurking just out of sight, watching your every move. Whispers, barely audible at first, began to weave through the stillness of the apartment that didn’t resemble your roommates in the slightest, indistinct murmurs that insinuated themselves into your thoughts, sowing seeds of doubt and fear. You strained to catch the words, but they remained just beyond the reach of comprehension, leaving you with a deep sense of foreboding.

Footsteps echoed through the empty corridors, faint but unmistakable, as if someone were pacing just beyond your line of vision. You would hear them in the dead of night, when sleep eluded you, or in the quiet hours of the morning when the world outside was cloaked in silence. Your heart would race as you threw back the covers, expecting to catch a glimpse of an intruder, but there was never anyone there, only the lingering echo of something that defied rational explanation.

Taps, like a Morse code from an unseen sender, would break the silence, their rhythmic pattern reverberating through the walls. They came at odd hours, disrupting the stillness, a persistent reminder that you were not alone, that there was an entity that defied the boundaries of the physical world, teasing and toying with your senses. You would rush to investigate, your pulse thundering in your ears, only to find empty rooms, devoid of life, devoid of any explanation for the inexplicable phenomena that haunted your waking hours.

As the days bled into nights, and the nights stretched into an endless cycle of unease, you found yourself teetering on the precipice of reason, questioning the very fabric of reality. The once-familiar spaces of your home had become a labyrinth of uncertainty, each creak, each whisper, a reminder that something beyond comprehension had taken root in your life, and it showed no signs of relenting.

One night, as the moon cast its pale glow through the window, you woke with a start, a prickling sensation crawling up your spine. Your gaze fell upon the figure standing at the foot of your bed, shrouded in shadows, yet unmistakably possessing the same contours, the same silhouette as your beloved Terzo. Your heart quickened with a surge of hope and desperation, but as your vision adjusted to the dim light, a sinking dread replaced the initial flicker of relief.

The figure exuded an aura of malevolence, an energy that seemed to twist and contort the familiar features into something twisted and sinister. The shape resembled Terzo, yet its essence felt foreign, an imposter donning the guise of your lost love, a specter that mocked the memory of the one you held dear. There was no distinctive features on his face - simply just a shadow of him watching you as you slept.

A sense of primal fear rooted you to the bed, rendering you incapable of movement, your voice trapped in your throat, stifled by the weight of the moment. You tried to convince yourself that it was a trick of the shadows, a manifestation of your own grief-stricken mind, but the palpable presence before you defied any rational explanation. It was as if a malevolent force had seized upon your deepest longing, your most profound sorrow, to manifest itself in the form of a distorted, twisted version of the one you yearned for.

As the figure lingered there, its gaze boring into your very soul, you sensed a wave of darkness emanating from it, tendrils of a presence that seemed to seep into the fabric of your being, infecting you with a terror that transcended the physical realm. The air grew colder, the room suffused with an oppressive weight that threatened to suffocate you, and you realized with a shudder that this entity, this phantom masquerading as Terzo, harbored intentions far more sinister than mere visitation.

You dared not speak, dared not move, as the figure loomed over you, its form shifting subtly, as if it reveled in your fear. It was a twisted reflection of the one you loved, a corrupted specter that had breached the boundaries of the afterlife, determined to torment you in ways that transcended the limits of mortal comprehension.

Despite every instinct screaming for you to remain still, to avoid provoking the sinister apparition, you couldn’t resist the primal urge to banish the darkness that threatened to consume you. With trembling hands, you fumbled for the switch, and as the room flooded with light, the menacing shadow dissipated like smoke in the wind, leaving behind only the faint echo of its chilling presence. Relief mingled with lingering dread, as you realized that the source of the terror was not just the unknown, but a darkness that dwelled within, a darkness that threatened to devour you whole.

You arrived to work the next morning, throwing yourself down on your chair in the office you shared with the new head of the church. Your body was exhausted beyond belief. Your lack of sleep had caught up with you, manifesting itself as dark circles around your eyes. Cardinal Copia looked at you, faux concern in his mismatched eyes, those very eyes boring into your soul to try and figure out the sickness plaguing you. “Is everything okay, Sorella?” He asked, his voice cautious.

The way you looked at him was deadly: the very epitome of ‘if looks could kill’. His presence was a stark reminder of the night that had claimed Terzo’s life, a cruel twist of fate that elevated this thing to a position that rightfully belonged to your beloved. The clutch of animosity wound tightly around your heart, each beat a reminder of the seething hatred that consumed you, wishing that it was him, not Terzo, who had met a gruesome end.

You forced yourself to endure his presence, the facade of civility barely concealing the churning storm of resentment that raged within. Every word, every gesture from him was a reminder of the irreparable loss, a wound that time could not heal. And as you bore the burden of his company, you couldn’t help but silently wish for a reversal of fates, for the one who was truly deserving of a fate so dire to be the one occupying the space that he callously usurped.

You sought comfort in his arms when you found Terzo’s blood spilling from his neck for no other reason than he was the closest person to you. You remember how long you rotted in your bed for after Terzo’s death. How you would sell your soul to any willing customer if it meant Terzo could come back and hold you in his strong, capable arms just one more time. If it meant you could get a proper goodbye.

The rage you felt when you had finally finished rotting was terrifying. It was if your body had been set ablaze by the very fires of Hell that had taken your beloved from you. For the first time in two weeks, you left your bed and stormed to Imperator’s door, intending on introducing her to the world of pain that she’d thrown you into. Luckily for her, she wasn’t there. But her office was.

The rage that had been simmering within you for so long finally erupted, surging through your veins like a torrential wave. You couldn’t contain the flood of emotions any longer, the injustice, the sorrow, the burning desire for retribution all gathering into an overwhelming, burning, red-hot inferno that propelled you into action. Without a second thought, you stormed into his Imperator’s office, the bitch who had been instrumental in orchestrating the events that led to Terzo’s tragic end.

You overturned her meticulously arranged desk, the clatter of papers and office supplies a symphony of your fury. The framed photographs that adorned her shelves met the same fate, crashing to the floor in a cacophony of shattered glass and splintered frames. You spared nothing in your path, fueled by a primal need to lash out at the source of your suffering, to make them feel even a fraction of the pain that had consumed you since that fateful day.

The very act of desecration, of defiling a space that represented the sanctity of another’s life, only served to stoke the flames of your vengeful rampage. You tore through the room with a fervor that bordered on madness, each item, each trinket, each cherished memory of a life you would never get back meeting a violent end at your hands. In that moment, nothing else mattered but the visceral release of the anguish that had festered within you, and you were determined to leave nothing unscathed in your wake.

Your punishment: removal from your job at the Ministry’s beautiful library and thrown into Copia’s cramped office space as his only personal assistant. As if she couldn’t twist the knife any further.

If Copia was the one who benefited from Terzo’s death, his sick and twisted mother was the one who orchestrated it with his waste-of-space father trailing behind like an ancient, lost child. Sister Imperatrix of the Ministry with the power of a Prime Mover - no - the power of a Papa. Ordering the execution of the only light in your world and the result was now sitting there in ridiculous paints reminiscent of a rat’s skull, in Papal robes that were magically whipped up in the short time between Terzo’s death and Copia’s concave where all cardinals voted for him with an overwhelming majority. You wondered how many strings Imperator had to pull in order to get her pathetic son into the top spot.

“Everything is fine.” You responded, curtly. You didn’t want to give him the time of day, especially now that you were severely sleep deprived.

“Is something bothering you?”

Your eyes that had finally drifted from his face turned back to his, head turning slowly as if to ask him if he was serious. The look on his face told you that he was. “I said I’m fine.”

“That’s no way to speak to the head of our church, is it, Sorella?” A woman’s voice asked from the door. Imperator.

You saw red. “Oh I can get much, much worse.” You stood from your desk, raging eyes fixated on the face you were so desperate to rearrange. “Would you like a demonstration?”

Copia stood, too. He rushed to your side and put his hands on your shoulders. “S-Sorella, please. Calm down.”

You shook him off. “Get the fuck off of me!”

“Ghouls!” Imperator shouted.

“No, Sorella, please! She’s still grieving.” Copia pleaded. “Leave her be.”

“I don’t need you to fight my battles for me!” You shouted. “How dare you stand there barking orders when this was never meant to be your position in the first place!?”

You saw two Ghouls enter from the second room, one of them belonged to Terzo. The bastard even took one of his Ghouls! The other one was new, fresh out of training.

Imperator, “Escort Sorella ____ to-”

Copia interjected. “The library! I… I have a l-list of books for you to get for me, Sorella.” He rummaged through the drawer of his desk frantically looking for a small piece of paper with his list. He handed it to you, almost flinching at your gaze, but his eyes were pleading with you to obey. “Please, Sorella. It’s urgent.”

You snatched the piece of paper out of his hand and sighed sharply. “Fine.” You stormed passed him and headed straight for Imperator, barging passed her and smacking your shoulder against hers. “Move.” You snapped, before slamming Copia’s office door.

The library breathed with an eerie stillness that seemed to whisper of secrets long forgotten. As you stepped through the labyrinth of towering bookshelves, the soft shuffle of your footsteps echoed like a solemn requiem, the silence wrapping around you like a suffocating shroud. A sense of foreboding settled in your bones, each creak of the floorboards beneath your feet a sinister murmur that taunted your senses. The subtle flicker of the overhead lights cast grotesque shadows along the rows of books, distorting the familiar into monstrous silhouettes that seemed to leer at you from the corners of your vision.

Amidst the oppressive silence, a faint murmur began to weave through the air, distant whispers that curled and twisted like wisps of smoke, reaching out from the fringes of your perception. You strained to discern the words, but they remained just beyond the threshold of your understanding, an indistinct sound that hinted at a presence lingering just beyond the realm of the living. Your heart quickened, a drumbeat of mounting apprehension, as you tried to dismiss the inexplicable sounds as mere figments of an overactive imagination. But as you continued to gather the books, the whispering seemed to grow more insistent, more insidious, as if the very walls of the library were conspiring to confound your senses.

A chill slithered down your spine, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end as you became acutely aware of a gaze fixed upon you, unseen yet palpable, like a weight pressing down from above. You turned, your breath catching in your throat, and there, mere inches away, stood the ghostly apparition of Terzo. His form wavered in the dim light, a translucent specter suspended between the worlds of the living and the dead. His eyes, hollow sockets that seemed to bore into the depths of your soul, emanated a sorrow so profound it threatened to swallow you whole. A blood-curdling scream tore from your lips, reverberating through the library’s cavernous expanse, as the books slipped from your grasp, their clattering descent a discordant symphony to the nightmarish encounter that had shattered the illusion of normalcy, plunging you into the unrelenting grip of a horror that defied reason and reality. You fell to the floor yourself, staring up in horror at the sight.

In that fleeting moment, the veil of horror that had enveloped the encounter seemed to unravel, revealing a facade that had concealed a prank orchestrated by the mischievous spirit. The shadows that had loomed large in the corners of the room now appeared benign, mere illusions conjured by Terzo’s playful spirit. The whispers that had chilled your spine with their ghostly murmurings now sounded like echoes of a shared joke, a spectral trickster reveling in the intricacies of his spectral jest.

You sat there, shaken and bewildered, as the ghostly apparition of your beloved Terzo exuded an air of lighthearted amusement, the weight of the previous horrors lifting with each flicker of his ghostly form. His eyes, once filled with a haunting sorrow, now sparkled with an impish delight that hinted at the lingering essence of his vibrant personality. It was as if he had found a way to bridge the gap between the worlds, to offer you a glimpse of his enduring spirit, and he used it to fuck with you.

“Sorella!” A voice sounded behind you, making you turn to look at the Sibling, looking on at you in concern. They reached out to you. “Are you okay? Are you hurt? What happened?”

“I-I’m fine, thank you. I just-” You turned to look at where Terzo was standing to find that he’d disappeared again. “Lost my balance. Heavy books and all.”

“Here, let’s get you up.” The sibling pulled you to your feet and helped straighten your habit, before bending to pick up your books for you. You didn’t recognise them from when you worked here, they must have been your replacement. All the while, you stood there, dumbfounded by your encounter with Terzo’s apparition, apprehensive to fully believe what you’d just seen. It must be the grief causing you to hallucinate.

“Are you okay?” They asked once they saw the look on your face. “You look exhausted.”

“I’m fine, thanks. Just having trouble sleeping, is all. Thanks.” You took the pile of books off them and went to walk away.

“Listen, people talk… and they’re talking a lot about you, these days. The other librarians - well, they filled me in on what I missed before I was hired here. I remember seeing your face every time I came in here and, well, wondered where you went. They told me everything. I… I’m sorry to hear about Papa Terzo. It hurt us all to hear of his passing, but you were much closer to him than the rest of us.”

“I don’t want to be rude, but I really need to get these back to the Cardinal.”

They nodded. “Just, if you need a friend, I’m always about and available for a listen. And we have loads of books on grief… if you need them.”

You nodded awkwardly. The relationship you shared with Terzo was particularly unusual for a Sibling of Sin and a Papa, especially when that Sibling wasn’t the Papa’s Prime Mover. You cast your mind back to the very start of your relationship, how you instantly became famous for being Terzo’s favourite whore: the one to lock down the fuck boy. Now you were his grieving widow in the eyes of the Ministry, and their looks of pity as you passed them in the corridor didn’t escape you. Nor did their sad, little whispers commenting on your demeanor, or appearance. Though this Sibling seemed kind, there was no doubt in your mind that you’d be unable to trust them as far as you could throw them. Confide in them and your business would be all round the Ministry by tea time. Instead, you thanked them for their kindness, gathered the remainder of your books and threw them on Copia’s desk, announcing to him that you’d be taking the rest of the day off. Any protests he had died on his tongue before he had the chance to utter the words. Despite his authority over the church now, he was still as cowardly as he used to be.

As you stepped through the threshold of your home, the faintest hint of Terzo’s cologne wafted through the air, infusing the space with a familiar warmth that enveloped you like a long-awaited embrace. The fragrance, a delicate blend of musk, cedar, and coffee, carried with it a sense of comfort, a poignant reminder of the one you had loved and lost. It wrapped around you like a soothing blanket, dispelling the remnants of fear and uncertainty that had clung to you since the spectral encounter at the library.

Each inhalation brought forth a flood of memories, of moments shared and cherished, of laughter and tenderness that lingered in the very fabric of your being. It was as if Terzo’s essence had found its way back to you, a gentle presence that sought to reassure you, to offer solace in the wake of the day’s unsettling events. The scent, once a haunting reminder of his absence. Tears welled in your eyes the moment the door closed, and you collapsed onto the floor, sobbing into your hands until a headache formed. Exhausted and emotionally spent, you eventually fell into a fitful sleep right there, at the entrance of your home, the cold floor beneath you a stark reminder of the emptiness that now pervaded your life.

As you stirred back to consciousness, the darkness that surrounded you seemed to press in closer, enveloping you in a shroud of impenetrable blackness. You had no idea how long you’d been asleep for, but you recognised the familiar ache in your back from hours spent in an uncomfortable position, and the moonlight shining through the window gave you an indication. You’d been dead to the world for a while. Despite the ache, you couldn’t bring yourself to move, remaining parallel to the floor in your misery.

A sense of palpable presence lingered in the room, an intangible weight that settled upon your consciousness, evoking a feeling of being watched, yet not with the malevolence that had haunted your previous encounters. Instead, it carried an air of quiet companionship, a spectral reassurance that you were not alone in your moment of vulnerability.

Though the shadows obscured the source of the presence, you felt an inexplicable warmth, a gentle energy that seemed to radiate from the very air around you. It was as if a benevolent spirit had taken residence in the room, offering a silent solace in the wake of your ceaseless mourning. In the stillness of the night, you found a strange comfort in the notion that Terzo’s spirit, in whatever form it had taken, lingered close, a silent guardian watching over you in the darkest hours of your grief.

The weight of the encounter at the library and the haunting scent of his cologne now seemed to fade into the background, replaced by a sense of peace that settled within the quiet space between heartbeats. It was a moment of communion with the unknown, a shared understanding that transcended the limitations of the mortal realm, offering a glimmer of solace in the infinite expanse of your sorrow.

In the stillness of the night, with the enigmatic presence as your silent witness, you allowed yourself to surrender to the gentle embrace of sleep once more, secure in the knowledge that even in the absence of the tangible, the spirit of Terzo would continue to watch over you, a silent sentinel standing guard over the shattered fragments of your grieving heart.

The sensation of a gentle touch, a warm pressure on your shoulder, stirred your emotions back up, more tears beginning to form in your eyes. In the darkness, you could almost see Terzo sitting beside you, his presence a soothing balm to the ache that had settled deep within your soul. His hand, though insubstantial, carried with it an unmistakable tenderness, a gesture of comfort that transcended the confines of the physical world.

That hand travelled from your shoulder, tickling your bicep and holding onto your hip as he so often did when you lay in bed together, naked and exhausted from a night full of passion. His scent, as it did then, enveloped you entirely now. You couldn’t see him, but you could feel him. “Why did you scare me?” You asked.

As the gentle spectral touch of Terzo’s hand gradually dissipated, a newfound sense of courage welled within you, buoyed by the lingering reassurance of his presence. The memory of the Ouija board, once a source of trepidation in the wake of recent spectral encounters, now resurfaced with a renewed sense of purpose. Though the thought of delving into the ethereal realm had initially filled you with a sense of dread, you now felt a resolute determination to connect with Terzo once more, to bridge the gap between the living and the departed in a bid to seek solace and understanding.

With a steady resolve, you retrieved the Ouija board from its place, the weight of its wooden surface a tangible reminder of the mysteries that lay beyond the veil of the known world. You positioned it before you, the letters and numbers now aglow with a faint, otherworldly luminescence. The planchette, a conduit to the realm of spirits, beckoned to you, and you placed your fingertips upon its smooth surface, ready to invite Terzo’s spirit into the sacred space between the living and the dead.

The room seemed to hum with a quiet energy, the air charged with an anticipation that transcended the physical realm. You closed your eyes, allowing your thoughts to coalesce around the memory of Terzo, your love for him pulsing through every fiber of your being. With each deliberate movement of the planchette, you sought to establish a connection, to bridge the gap that separated you, to invite his spirit to commune with you once more. In the hushed stillness of the night, you whispered his name, the sound carrying on the breath of a fervent prayer, a fervent plea to transcend the boundaries of mortality and find a semblance of peace in the communion of spirits. You lit candles, and called out to him.“Terzo?”

Anticipation coursed through you as the planchette stirred beneath your fingertips, its smooth surface gliding across the letters etched onto the Ouija board. The movement was deliberate, purposeful, as if guided by an unseen force that resonated with the very essence of Terzo’s spirit. Your breath caught in your throat, your heart hammering with a mixture of trepidation and awe, as the planchette continued its mysterious journey across the board.

Yes.

“Is this actually you?”

More movement, only to bring you back to the same word: Yes.

“If this is you, then tell me something only you would know. When did you first realise you loved me?”

O-B-S-E-R-V-A-T-O-R-Y.

The Ministry prided itself on knowledge and spared no expense when it was being built all those millennia ago. The library itself was a stunning space, and one of your favourite locations to be in, but the observatory was next level. The room was circular and made of white marble, with Italian columns spaced equidistant between the large wall high windows. There was a short ledge between the walls and the perfectly domed glass ceiling for structural reasons, but that was also covered in long, rectangular windows so more light could get in. There was an arched door on the other end of the room that led out to the balcony, which allowed for complete unobstructed stargazing if one so wished. On the other side of the room, right near the entrance was a white, leather, curved sofa that extended the length of the wall, with desks on wheels that allowed for extra work space.

Terzo caught you during one of your shifts, laying on the wooden ground with your ankles crossed and your hands resting on your stomach. A pillow was beneath you head yet your eyes were open. You were taking a break and had come to bask in the sunset. He’d opened the door quietly so as not to disturb you and continued to watch you for a few more seconds before he spoke. “Ah, Sorella. We don’t pay you to sleep on the job.” Because of how empty the room was, his voice echoed a little giving it more power than he intended.

The sound of his voice scared you and you sat up sharply, turning your head quickly before you locked eyes with him. There was panic reflected there, like you’d been caught misbehaving by Satan himself - but you’d essentially been caught by your boss’ boss’ boss slacking. You stood quickly. “I’m so sorry, Papa! I was just taking a quick break.”

He laughed at you, not cruelly, just because you were cute. “Va bene. You looked like you were having a great time, sì?”

“Sì.”

“Dimmi i tuoi pensieri.”

“Hm?”

He chuckled softly. “The Italian lessons are going well, I see.”

“I start tomorrow.”

“Tell me your thoughts.”

You sighed and looked back at the sunset, but he continued looking at you. “Just having one of those moments where you stop and take stock and appreciate what you have. Italian sunsets are something else, aren’t they?”

No words were needed at this moment, just a soft noise of agreement. He hadn’t realised how quiet the room was until you looked back at him, and your eyes met. In the light of the sunset you were truly breathtaking. He shook his head and took a small step away from you, pulling himself out of whatever spell you’d bewitched him with. But it didn’t matter how much he tried to deny it, he was falling head over heels in love with you.

It really was him. A sense of frustration washed over you. “Why the fuck did you scare me like that?”

F-U-N-N-Y.

“Fuck you!”

S-U-R-E.

You rolled your eyes. This was a typical Terzo conversation, and usually it would end with him on your body, or as he would prefer, inside it. “Nice try, dipshit. You’re dead. That wouldn’t work.” Your final sentence took on a sombre tone, your excitement washing away and replacing it with sadness. Your brain had forgotten that little detail all too quickly, and the reality was about to come crashing down around you. The sound of the planchette moving distracted you, temporarily at least.

W-A-I-T.

“Wait? Wait for what?”

Nothing.

“Terzo? Wait for what?”

You waited for a little while longer, trying desperately to regain the connection you just had with him, but it had vanished. Terzo had disappeared.

In fact, he remained gone for three days. There was nothing. No cruel jumpscares, no smells, no sounds, no touches. Not a single thing from him. You left the board out just in case he wanted to talk to you while you were at home, but the planchette only moved at your touch and not his. The cold shoulder hit you like a shock to your system. Finally, after weeks of being without him, you’d made contact with him. For days he’d been around you - even if it was at the expense of your sanity. And now all of a sudden there was nothing - it felt like you’d been thrown into ice cold water and left to fend for yourself.

But Terzo said wait. And so, wait you would.

This was your first Black Mass since Terzo’s execution, and so it felt weird sitting in the large chapel of the Ministry after so many weeks away. Of course, as you expected, all eyes were on you as soon as you walked in, the congregation whispering to each other to spread the news of your arrival like wildfire. In order to keep yourself as private as possible, you chose to sit in the back row, and as more and more Siblings and the Ghouls of previous Papas filed in, you realised they all didn’t want to sit beside you… the exception being Terzo’s Ghouls,who had also suffered a great loss.

Moss threw himself on the pew next to you, gripping onto your hand like a friend would. You weren’t sure if you could consider Terzo’s Ghouls your friends, but it was nice to have a familiar face. “It’s good to see you here today.” He said, softly.

You nodded. “It’s good to see you too. I didn’t want to be here today. I wasn’t sure if I ever wanted to come back.”

“Small steps. Papa would hate for you to become a recluse.” He squeezed your hand in an attempt to comfort you further, and encourage you to keep this up. “This is already a huge step. You should be proud of yourself.”

“Thanks, Moss.”

The entrance of the Clergy Officials, garbed in their varied black and red regalia, sent a ripple of apprehension through the congregation, marking the imminent commencement of the Mass. Everyone stood out of respect, but you and the other Ghouls remained seated in protest of the Clergy’s actions thus far. Stream had explained it to you a while ago: during the mourning period, they would remain seated. You observed with a simmering contempt as these figures, each a pillar of the dark hierarchy, took their seats, their presence casting a formal cloud over the gathered worshippers. Their eyes, shrouded by the dark recesses of their Cardinal makeup, seemed to linger with an unsettling scrutiny, as if they could discern the innermost secrets of those in attendance.

Following closely behind the officials, with an air of regal authority, came the figures you despised the most: Copia’s parents, Sister Imperator and the idiotic Papa Nihil. Their commanding presence exuded an aura of foreboding power, their very essence a testament to the malevolent legacy that had entrenched itself within the heart of the Church. The smirk etched across Sister Imperator’s face as her gaze met yours sent a chill down your spine, the shit-eating expression on her face threatening to engulf you in a suffocating shroud of dread. She was so sure she’d won whatever war she had fought; she was so sure she was invincible. You could feel the heat rise in your cheeks, a potent mixture of anger and indignation boiling within you, demanding release in the face of her insidious mockery. The weight of her disdainful gaze seemed to sear into your very soul, a silent reminder of the hierarchy of darkness that ruled over the congregation.

Beside you, Moss, sensing the uproar of emotions raging within you, placed a reassuring hand on your arm, his touch anchoring you to the present moment. His silent gesture of solidarity implored you to remain composed, to resist the urge to confront the Imperator, whose every calculated move seemed designed to provoke and unsettle.

And then, with a quick stride, Cardinal Copia entered the hall, his visage an unsettling blend of awkwardness and authority, as though he had to keep reminding himself of his position. As he ascended the dais to lead the congregation in the unholy proceedings, you felt a surge of revulsion, a potent mixture of hatred and disdain directed at the figure who now wielded power in the name of the malevolent forces that governed the realm of darkness, and his lineage who had taken a comfortable seat on the wooden pews of the front row.

Copia had always seemed somewhat pathetic to you, a character whose uncertainty and timidity had once been palpable, but it appeared that he had undergone a transformation of sorts, now imbued with a newfound confidence that emanated from his position as the leader of the dark congregation. He was introverted and not conventionally attractive, which meant many members of the Ministry had it out for him. Rumours about him spread like wildfire, and all of them were more unbelievable and cruel than the last. Before all of this, you refused to believe them, and couldn’t understand where they came from. But now? Now you’d believe them just to spite him. Given how much everyone loved Papa Terzo, no one could imagine him being deposed by… well… a Cardinal who didn’t really have any friends. He often stumbled over his words and spoke quietly, had terrible posture and a gaze that always lingered for moments too long. A wallflower tasked with taking command of a congregation. He never should have stood a chance, yet there he was, making speeches and reading texts, shunning Catholicism for its evils while he was speaking with the voice of hypocrisy.

The congregation, an eclectic mix of followers, now hung on Copia’s every, quiet, word, their devotion to the sinister doctrines palpable in the eerie silence that pervaded the hall. As he intoned incantations and recited dark liturgy, you couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of unease, a discomfort that mingled with your disdain for the man who had once been a mere annoyance but now held a position of dark power.

A shiver coursed down your spine as the sensation of a presence lingering behind you tugged at the edges of your awareness. With a mounting sense of anticipation, you slowly pivoted to steal a glance over your shoulder, half-expecting to find the spectral form of Terzo standing there, his gaze fixed upon you with a reassuring warmth. However, to your disquieting realization, there was no one there, no discernible figure or apparition to account for the palpable energy that seemed to permeate the very air around you.

As you turned back to face the front once more, you carried with you the unreal comfort of Terzo’s spiritual presence. The mysterious energy of the room seemed to shift, imbued with a faint glimmer of hope that defied the darkness that threatened to consume it. You felt the hairs on your body stand on end, electrified by the energy now surrounding you. A weight appeared on your shoulders, not too heavy to burden, but heavy enough to remind you that he was there. You felt feather light touches on your bicep as Terzo’s scent filled your mind and clouded your senses, soft grazes against the sensitive part of your neck - a favourite spot for Terzo when he was alive, he loved to hear you gasp.

The gasp that left your body at that moment was loud enough to disturb the people around you, causing them to turn and look at you in alarm or concern. You nodded and mouthed a silent apology to appease them, but Moss’ eyes still lingered. He said nothing, but you could see that a question was bubbling in his throat. Meanwhile, yours had the ghostly feeling of Terzo’s lips pressed against the skin, tormenting you in front of all the Siblings. This would usually be the part of the proceedings where he’d whisper sweet nothings in your ear, remind you that you needed to be silent or people would suspect something. But you knew him well enough to know he’d claim you in front of the entire congregation if he saw fit to do so. Lucifer, how you wished you could hear him right now.

The feeling on your bicep ended, only to be replaced by fingers pawing at your clothed clitoris, rubbing deftly over the fabric simply to torment you and tease you. You released another gasp, this time repressed enough to disturb only Moss, who was now staring at you intensely. Your toes pressed against the marble floor to keep yourself sitting upright as your thick thighs parted involuntarily, granting better access to Terzo’s phantasmal fingers. Terzo, of course, took advantage of this - you could almost feel the rumbling of his chest as he chuckled at you for being so desperate for him, during Mass no less.

The fabric of your panties never moved or shifted, visually it was as if nothing was wrong, but you felt Terzo’s fingers much more solidly on your clit, as if he’d moved the fabric to the side and was now making direct contact with the bundle of nerves, set alight for the first time in weeks. He applied more pressure with each circle he rubbed into your folds, before you felt his fingers dip inside you.

You were so wet and ready for him, and despite him beginning with two fingers, your body was feeling no pain. There was the familiar stretch that you loved, but none of the delicious bite that accompanied it. Your mouth fell open with the unbridled pleasure only his fingers could bring, with the way they tapped upwards immediately and hit against your g-spot in a way that almost had you screaming out loud if it wasn’t for your hands against your mouth, muffling your cries to absolute silence.

“Sister,” Moss whispered from beside you, “are you okay?”

You simply nodded in response, not trusting your voice to answer for you. The hand that wasn’t clasped against your mouth flew to Moss’ open hand and began to squeeze, searching for comfort. Your hips had shifted, pressing your covered clit against the wooden pew, gently rocking them back and forth and rubbing yourself against it for the extra stimulation. To Moss, it just looked like you were in pain. He didn’t see the way your nipples were erect and rubbing against the lace of your bra, and he certainly couldn’t hear the way your wet cunt was succumbing to Terzo’s fingers, ebbing you ever closer to an intense orgasm at the back of Black Mass, your fingernails digging into the meat of Moss’ hand.

Knowing that you hadn’t orgasmed in so long, and knowing what Terzo’s fingers were capable of, apparently even in death, you knew that what was building inside of you was going to explode at any given time, and it would overtake your entire body. You had to go. You had to leave before he made you cum.

“I h-have to g-go!” You whispered to Moss, straightening yourself up and quietly running out of the Church. In your haste to escape, you didn’t notice the way Moss and the other Ghouls were staring at you - and you certainly had no idea that Copia had witnessed your escape.

The sunlight glared onto your face as you made your getaway, looking around the courtyard frantically for shelter or somewhere you could cool off. Terzo’s fingers had retracted from your cunt, but you could still feel him on your body. He wasn’t finished with you yet. Ideally, you’d make your way back to your home and deal with this there, but as you stood outside trying to force your clouded brain to make a plan, you could feel Terzo’s body pressed against yours, his hands running all over your soft body, grabbing at you as he saw fit. He pulled at the fat of your hips, squeezed your pillowy breasts, rubbed your hidden nipples between his fingers as he groped you for his own pleasure -and perhaps yours. Your body felt like it was on fire wherever his touches landed.

You just let your feet carry you round the back of the Church to the quiet gardens. This would do - it would have to. You felt Terzo’s hands back on your body, pushing against your shoulders and pinning you against a nearby tree. You still couldn’t see him - you had no idea where he was or what he was planning as his hands disappeared. That was until you felt extra wetness press against your panties. His tongue. Oh, fuck, his tongue. It laved over the gusset of your panties, savouring the taste of your wetness and rubbing you over and over again. Your panties fit you perfectly, but in this moment, in this desperation with the feeling of Hellfire burning your entire body to a crisp, it felt like too much. They needed to be off of you; and so, in a frantic movement, you pulled them off your body and threw them somewhere onto the grass, leaning back against the tree and spreading yourself open for your spectral lover, who dove back into your folds like a man starved. He began roughly licking and sucking on your clit as your hips bucked wantonly against his ghostly face, providing you with as much stimulation as he could to get you to climax as quickly as possible. He seemed just as needy as you.

Your hands were itching to tangle in his locks, desperate to tug on the black strands and push his face into your cunt. You needed to ride his face and take what you needed from his tongue, but there was nothing to see - nothing to grab. You needed to grab something. So, you pulled your habit up over your breasts, exposing your voluptuous body to the elements and any lucky passerby, and pulled and tugged at your nipples through your bra, whining at the sensitivity. Your moans after that fell naturally, easily, just as they always did whenever Terzo was in-between your thighs.

“Fuck, Papa! Just like that. Please.” You begged to the air, pulling at yourself hard. “I’m so fucking close, Papa! Don’t stop, please don’t stop. Oh, fuck!”

You felt his mouth suction against you harder, the vibrations of an unheard growl shocking you and making you scream a little louder. It felt incredible to have his magical tongue lavish you in pleasure once more - almost intoxicating. You needed this. You needed him. You were so close. Just a little more - just a little longer.

Yes.

Yes!

With one final suck of his mouth on your clit, and a particularly hard tug from your fingers, your orgasm struck you, hitting you like a freight train and knocking the wind out of you. Your lungs burned with the need for oxygen, but your entire body cramped and froze as your orgasm took control, filling you with pleasure that started at your cunt and ran all the way through your body, nerve-endings screaming at the exertion, and cum oozing out of your cunt and running down your thighs as the majority of it flooded the ground and the tree’s exposed roots beneath you.

When your orgasm subsided, you were exhausted. It had been so long since you had one, let alone one of that strength. It was in the haze, you’d realised what had just happened. You realised that your cum was dripping down your legs and that your entire body was exposed. You realised that you were alone. How you’d kill to have Terzo’s arms wrapped around you right now, to tell you how good you’d been for him, to tell you how much he loved you as he always did when you were recovering from his onslaught. Before you had the chance to break down against the tree you’d just been pinned to, you picked up your panties from the grass and trudged all the way back across the Ministry’s grounds, knees like jelly, and threw yourself on your bed once you arrived home.

In the days that followed the unsettling encounter during the Black Mass, the memory of Terzo’s spectral presence lingered like a ghostly echo, a haunting reminder of the unbelievable nature of his existence beyond the realms of the living. His touch haunted you as though he was still there - the places his fingers and mouth had been still burned through to your soul, and had you touching yourself in the darkness of your room in an attempt to recreate that feeling. It didn’t matter how many times you orgasmed at the thought of him, how much your own fingers traced against your skin, it didn’t feel the same. It never did - even when he was alive and away on tour. The longing to see him, to feel the warmth of his touch, to hear the timbre of his voice, gnawed at the depths of your being, leaving an ache that seemed to seep into every crevice of your soul. The inability to bridge the gap between the real and the ethereal only served to magnify the sense of loss that pervaded your every waking moment, casting a shadow over even the most mundane of tasks.

Each passing day brought with it a relentless yearning, a longing that refused to be assuaged by the fleeting memories and spectral encounters that punctuated the fabric of your existence. The knowledge that Terzo’s spirit lingered just beyond the veil of perception served as a bittersweet solace, a faint glimmer of hope in the vast expanse of grief and longing that threatened to consume you whole. Yet, the inability to fully connect with his essence, to share in the tangible manifestations of his love and presence, left you feeling adrift in a world that seemed to have lost its vibrancy and meaning.

As you navigated the mundane rhythms of daily life, the ache of his absence remained a constant companion, a silent echo of a love that transcended the limitations of mortality. The void that Terzo’s departure had left in your life seemed to expand with each passing day, a cavernous emptiness that defied the passage of time and the distractions of the outside world. In the silence of your solitude, you grappled with the enigmatic nature of existence, with the elusive threads that connected the realms of the living and the dead, and with the unyielding longing for a connection that surpassed the boundaries of life and death. There must be something you could do…

The library welcomed you with its familiar hush as you stepped through its hallowed doors, seeking respite from the ceaseless agitation of your own thoughts. The soft rustle of pages turning and the faint murmur of distant conversations enveloped you, offering a semblance of comfort in the labyrinth of towering bookshelves that lined the expansive halls. With a determined resolve, you navigated the aisles, the scent of aging paper and polished wood a soothing balm to the turbulence that churned within your restless soul.

As you perused the countless volumes that adorned the shelves, your fingers traced the spines of books that promised insights into the enigmatic realms of the afterlife and the mysteries that veiled the boundaries between the living and the dead. You delved into the intricate narratives of spiritual encounters and spectral manifestations, each page offering a glimmer of understanding, a fragment of solace amidst the haunting echoes of your longing for Terzo’s presence.

Amidst the neatly organized rows of books, your fingers alighted upon a weathered tome that seemed to emanate an aura of ancient mystique. As you withdrew it from the shelf, the book revealed itself to be a relic of another era, its faded leather cover bearing the weight of countless years and the touch of countless curious readers. The rich, earthy scent of aged parchment and ink enveloped you, infusing the air with a sense of timelessness that seemed to transcend the confines of the library’s walls.

The cover, weathered and worn with the passage of time, bore intricate embossments of ethereal figures and swirling mists, hinting at the enigmatic knowledge that lay within its pages. Traces of gold leaf, faded but still resplendent, adorned the edges of the cover, their faint glimmer serving as a silent testament to the book’s storied past and the wisdom it held. Your fingertips traced the embossed grooves, the texture of the leather yielding beneath your touch, as if imparting a tangible connection to the ancient mysteries that the book sought to unveil.

As you dared to open its timeworn pages, the delicate rustle of aged paper echoed through the air, each turn revealing a tapestry of meticulously inked illustrations and intricate script that danced across the parchment. The words, etched with a precision that spoke of a bygone era, seemed to pulse with an otherworldly energy, their meaning transcending the confines of language and time. The sepia-toned illustrations, rendered with a meticulous hand, depicted ghostly apparitions in various states of ethereal existence, their forms wreathed in shadow and light, their spectral presence an enigmatic blend of the tangible and the intangible.

The weight of the book in your hands seemed to grow heavier, as if bearing the weight of the knowledge it contained, the essence of countless narratives that had woven themselves into the fabric of its pages.

As you delved deeper into the pages of the ancient tome, your eyes alighted upon a ritual that promised to bridge the realms of the living and the dead, to summon forth the spectral essence of those who had departed from the mortal plane. The words, etched with an archaic elegance, seemed to beckon to you from the faded parchment, offering a glimmer of hope in the face of your relentless longing for Terzo’s presence. With each line that you perused, a sense of anticipation bloomed within you, a fervent desire to transcend the boundaries of mortality and connect with his spirit once more, even if only for a fleeting moment.

The ritual, intricately detailed with symbols and incantations, unfolded before you like a map to the ethereal realm, its instructions offering a pathway to channel the energies of the unknown and summon forth the ghostly apparition of your beloved. Your fingers traced the ancient script, committing the intricate steps to memory, each syllable resonating within the depths of your consciousness, a whispered promise of reunion and communion with the spirit that had once been your guiding light.

In the back of your mind, you remembered the Sibling you encountered the last time you were here and how they reminded you that people talk. You knew that whoever was at the front desk would talk about how you’d borrowed a book about apparitions and ghostly rituals. So, you did the next best thing: you took a series of photos for each of the pages, allowing you to keep the information close to you and not get caught in the process.

You made your way from the sanctum of knowledge that was the library, the weight of anticipation hung heavy in the air, driving you forward on your quest to reunite with Terzo’s spirit, even if only for a fleeting moment. The path to the Ministry’s ritual supply shop unfolded before you, each step a testament to your unwavering determination to see the ritual through to its completion. The bustling corridors and busy hallways seemed to blur into the periphery of your consciousness as your mind remained fixated on the sacred task that lay ahead.

Upon arriving at the ritual supply shop, the air seemed to thicken with a palpable sense of mystique, as if the very atmosphere resonated with the esoteric energies that permeated the space. The shop, adorned with an eclectic array of mystical artifacts and arcane paraphernalia, offered a glimpse into a world that existed beyond the confines of the mundane. The soft flicker of black candles cast an ethereal glow, while the sight of crimson paint, rich and vibrant, beckoned to you with a silent promise of the ritual’s imminent fruition.

With a focused determination, you gathered the necessary materials, each item a vital component in the intricate dance of summoning that you sought to perform. The vibrant red paint, symbolizing the blood that pulsed through the veins of life, and the stark black candles, emblematic of the shadows that cloaked the realms of the unknown, spoke to the potent energies that the ritual sought to harness. Each item you procured held within it the potential to bridge the chasm between the worlds, to beckon forth the spirit that had eluded your grasp, to offer a glimpse of solace in the enigmatic communion that lay beyond the boundaries of mortal comprehension.

With the ritual supplies in hand, you felt the weight of the imminent encounter with Terzo’s spirit settle upon your shoulders, a burden that mingled with the fervent hope that guided your every step. The journey back to the confines of your abode seemed to pass in a blur, as your thoughts remained steadfastly fixed on the ritual that now loomed on the horizon, promising to unveil the secrets that lay veiled between the realms of the living and the dead. You were going to see him tonight - you’d make sure of it.

As the cloak of night enveloped the world outside, casting the surroundings into an eerie shroud of darkness, you stood within the designated room, a place now transformed into a sanctum of otherworldly intent. The air seemed to thrum with an otherworldly energy, charged with the anticipation of the ritual that was about to unfold. With a steady hand, you traced the intricate lines of the Satanic pentagram in vivid red upon the floor, each stroke a deliberate invocation of the esoteric forces that lay dormant within the confines of the symbol. The pentagram, a testament to the unyielding power of the occult, now bore the weight of the ritual’s purpose, serving as a conduit between the realms that sought to unite the living with the departed.

At each point of the pentagram, you placed the black candles, their flames flickering with an ethereal luminescence that cast dancing shadows across the room. The soft glow of their light lent an otherworldly aura to the space, imbuing the ritual with a solemn reverence that transcended the mere act of conjuration. As you knelt at the center of the pentagram, a profound sense of purpose enveloped you, the incantation poised on the tip of your tongue, ready to breathe life into the ancient words that had beckoned forth spirits for eons.

With a voice that quivered with a potent blend of determination and trepidation, you began to intone the incantation, each syllable a whispered invocation that resonated with the pulsing energy of the room. The words, spoken with a fervent reverence, seemed to weave themselves into the very fabric of the air, each verse carrying the weight of ancient wisdom and the fervent desire to bridge the gap between the worlds. In the flickering light of the candles and the crimson hue of the pentagram, you channeled the essence of your longing, the fervent plea to summon forth Terzo’s spirit, to invite him into the sacred space that now pulsed with the promise of communion between the realms of the living and the dead.

As the final syllables of the incantation lingered in the air, a profound stillness descended upon the room, punctuated only by the soft flicker of the black candles and the radiant glow of the pentagram that now seemed to hum with an otherworldly energy. And then, amidst the charged silence, the figure of Terzo appeared within the confines of the sacred circle, his form transparent and wreathed in a soft, ethereal blue aura that pulsed with the rhythm of the spirit realm. His presence, though you were unable to touch him, cast a spectral light upon the room, his essence a haunting blend of the familiar and the enigmatic.

You gazed upon him with a mixture of awe and longing, your senses heightened to the subtle nuances that marked his spectral manifestation. The transparency of his form, a mere echo of the physical solidity he once possessed, allowed you to see through him, to discern the faint outlines of the room beyond his spectral figure. Yet, in the ethereal light that bathed his essence, you found a familiarity that transcended the limitations of the physical world, a connection that pulsed with the enduring bond of love and longing that had persisted beyond the confines of mortality.

Though you couldn’t reach out to touch him, the echoes of his presence seemed to weave themselves into the very fabric of your being, his voice carrying on the subtle currents of the air, his gaze meeting yours with a silent reassurance that transcended the boundaries of the spectral plane. The scent of his cologne, now an intangible whisper that lingered in the space around you, evoked a potent wave of nostalgia and longing, intertwining with the enigmatic aura that surrounded his ghostly form.

You couldn’t touch him, but he could touch you. He saw the tears in your eyes and ran outside of the circle, hands cupping your cheeks and looking into your eyes. There was life in his despite his current form, much different to the last time you saw them. “Tesoro!” He breathed, throwing himself down to the floor to your height to offer you some comfort as you felt all of the emotions a person could possibly feel all at once.

You sobbed. Relief flooded your body along with the pain of the grief you’d felt for all this time. The accumulation of all the agonising days rolled into this one meeting, and the shattered pieces of your heart began to stick back together piece by piece, starting with when you saw him standing there just moments ago, and continuing passed the sound of his voice calling for you.

You felt his lips trace ghostly kisses all over your face, starting at your forehead and working all across the expanse of skin, even moving his hands to get to your cheeks. For once, his paints didn’t transfer onto your face as it rubbed against you - and there was something so sad in that; something so heartbreaking in the notion that it would only be your makeup you’d be washing off your body tonight, and not his too. That you wouldn’t hear him come into the bathroom and laugh at your complaints every time his black paint stuck to your cheek and stained it temporarily. You’d give anything to have that just one more time.

“I m-missed you so much!” You wept into his spectral clothes, but your tears dripped onto the floor. You felt his arms wrap around you, but your own hand slid through his body and rested on your own when you tried to grip his arm.

“Lo so, amore mio. I have been with you this whole time.”

“Why did th-they do that to you? I d-don’t understand.”

He looked at you with sadness in his eyes. “You won’t understand. You don’t know everything, yet.”

“Then please explain it to me.”

He sighed. “Non posso. It is not the right time, and I am not the right person to do it. But I need you to remember that my brothers and I were not the only victims here. Besides you, there is another who lives and suffers daily through no fault of their own.”

“What does that mean?”

He shushed you and kissed your forehead. “It doesn’t matter. Non pensarci. Just enjoy this moment while we can, hm? I cannot be here all night.”

You nodded, but cried again. “Did you feel any pain?”

“No, no, no, tesoro. Do not torture yourself with my death, especially not now.” He kissed your lips in an attempt to kiss away the grief. “I need you here with me, now, sì?”

You nodded.

He kissed you again. The kiss was soft, yet full of passion, dripping with the love and adoration he felt for you even in death. You longed to pull him closer, to deepen the kiss and show him just how much you missed him, but what you had would have to do.

Despite the tender moment, despite the sweetness you were experiencing in his presence, you needed something more - something stronger. He’d done it before, you craved him to do it again. You let out the faintest of whimpers as you kissed him, and he picked up on it immediately, deepening the kiss and pulling you flush against his spiritual body.

His hands, like before, began wandering over your body, roaming over your curves and caressing you sweetly, tentatively. He slowly moved forward on his knees, pushing you down onto the cold wooden floor and hovering above you, his lips still attached to yours. One hand propped him up, the other ran from your knee, up your thigh and rested on your hip, your legs parted out of habit to allow him to kneel in between them.

“Tesoro,” he whispered, breaking the kiss and allowing his lips to travel across your cheek, to that sensitive spot on your neck, “the only woman I ever loved. The angel amongst the devils. Even in death, I yearned for this moment.” He kissed your neck, revelling in your gasps and sighs. “Will you undress for me, amore mio?”

He pulled himself away from you and watched you stand, undressing yourself slowly for him. You looked at his eyes the whole time, but didn’t begrudge the fact that his eyes were travelling everywhere. He watched your hands unzip your habit, darkened and hooded eyes watching it pool at your feet. Your bra was removed next, Terzo’s mouth slightly agape and almost drooling at the sight of your breasts falling free of their confines. He groaned deeply, a noise coming from the back of his throat, so low it sounded like he was purring.

He loved your body more than anyone else did. He loved the plush softness of it, how it jiggled when you moved, even slightly. How even repositioning yourself on the couch could get him harder than anything else in the world, just because your thighs would splay against the cushions, and your tummy would jiggle with the force of you sitting down. There were so many times he wished he could paint, because he would have painted you over and over again like you were Michelangelo’s favourite subject. It saddened him to know that this would be the last time he would ever get to see you like this, but at least his soul could rest happily in Hell with Lucifer as this being his final memory.

When you removed your panties, Terzo groaned. “Oh, bella!” He bent at the waist, allowing his forehead to touch the ground, his hands slamming against the wood of the floor. What followed was a string of Italian sentences you had trouble discerning at your low-level, but the way he was talking made you believe whatever he said should be written in a book for the rest of time. He was worshipping you, the very ground you walked on, playfully in true Terzo fashion, but no less insincere. His reaction to seeing you completely bare for him had you giggling, your previous tears long gone. He got to his feet and charged over to you, cupping your face in his hands when he reached you and pulling you into a desperate kiss. “Come, lie down for me.”

Once he had you spread out for him on the floor, he lavished you in kisses again. His lips and his tongue ran wherever they could, savouring every inch of you until there was nothing left to be explored before finally settling on your cunt. He began gently licking and sucking on your clit as your hips bucked wantonly against his ghostly face, providing you with as much stimulation as he could to get you to your end. This time, he wasn’t rushing his work. This time he was making sure to appreciate you, dining on you like a 12-course experience where each bite was a culinary masterpiece - because you were a masterpiece.

Your hips bucked at the sensations he was bestowing upon you, hands still desperate to tangle in his hair and frustration clouding your mind when you realised you couldn’t.

This time, you could hear every single noise his mouth was making against your pussy, the suction, the sound of his saliva swiping against your sopping folds. He worked you like it was his job, hitting every single spot to have you singing for him, writhing beneath him, driving him crazy. In a desperate need to do something with your hands, you moved to your nipples again, pinching, pulling, adding to the onslaught that his mouth was putting your clit through. His hands were clutching onto your thighs, fingers digging into the plush skin there, but leaving no marks as much as you both wanted him to.

“Papa, I’m so close!”

He growled into your cunt, not wanting to stop and have you lose the feeling. You knew he wasn’t going to make you hold back - not this time. He wasn’t going to play with you, or torture you in the most delicious of ways, you both craved each other too much.

“Your tongue feels so good, Terzo! Fuck! I’m gonna cum! I’m gonna-”

Your orgasm washed over you like a tidal wave crashing against the rocks of a cliffside. One of your hands moved to your mouth and got caught beneath your teeth as you bit down, your body freezing with the intensity of it. Drool spilled from your open mouth, your eyes glazing over and rolling back into your head. Your hands tightened where they were, forcing you to bite down hard on your finger and pinching hard on your nipple. Your lungs refused to fill with air, and your back arched off the floor. Your mind became filled with dizziness from the way your body was convulsing as a result of the intensity, even your voice could no longer work.

As soon as your body relaxed, Terzo detached himself from your core and crawled up over your body, frantically kissing your lips when he reached them. “Always so good for me, hm?” Another kiss, this time his tongue entered your mouth. “Cumming so well on my tongue. Amore mio, I cannot wait.”

“I need you inside me. Quickly, please!”

Terzo nodded dumbly, his hand fiddling at his crotch. Seconds later, he pushed inside of you, stretching you out to make you fit him perfectly inside. You always did. You were always so perfect for him, made specifically for him. To ruin him, to strengthen him. And he was made for you, to offer you pleasure beyond your wildest fantasies, have you seeing stars as you cum around his cock. He fit inside you just right, always hitting your cervix in the most delicious of ways and dragging against your walls, making your body feel alive in the most primal of ways.

Usually, Terzo would wait for you to adjust to his size; but like with his fingers there was no pain with the stretch - no need for adjustment. So instead, when he didn’t see the familiar look on your face that told him everything he needed to know, he just began to move. The first thrust was a tender motion, but it was so strong you felt like you were going to pass out. Without a moment’s hesitation, your hands collided with the ground as your fingers searched for something solid to hold onto. Normally, you would go after his back. Terzo yearned to see the red lines in a mirror that represented your pleasure and to feel the scratch of your nails against his skin. The second felt exactly as good. The rhythmic yet soft movements of Terzo soon picked up speed, leaving your brain turning to mush and your lungs gasping for air. The third thrust had you rolling your eyes back.

The feeling got more and more intense the more he thrust. Your screams, which initially served as a release for your bliss, were no longer effective. As much as it was possible, your back arched off the ground to accommodate him deeper inside of you. Now that his hips were moving more quickly, you were going crazy even more than before. You were completely oblivious to the way you appeared, how perfect you looked all red-faced and sweaty beneath him.

You were living artwork carved by Lucifer, made for pleasures beyond your wildest dreams. You belonged in his bed, lounging lazily as he spoiled you, worshipped you, gave you everything you could ever possibly want. Your body, all curvaceous and plump, jiggling beneath him with the force of his hips. Your thighs wobbling at the movements, your breasts, heavy and full, nipples begging to be played with and sucked into his mouth. His eyes enamoured by the way your tummy shook with the rest of your body, he could no longer resist. He bent down and placed kisses wherever he could: between the valley of your breasts, all over your chest, your sternum.

“Touch yourself for me, tesoro.” He told you, his voice shakey but gentle. “I want to watch you.”

He sat back on his knees and followed your hand as it moved downwards to your clit, thrusting hard when he heard your scream of sensitivity as your fingers made contact. Terzo knelt between your legs and let your hips buck to meet his movements. His gaze was fixed on your face, and the picture of you stretched out in front of him like his favourite meal made his cock twitch inside of you. He gripped your waist for leverage and watched your hand rubbing furiously at your clit, desperately trying to reach another orgasm. He bit his lip at the sight of you - you were so beautiful. You belonged to him; his perfect girl, laying there with her hand on her pussy and his cock slamming into her. It was almost too much to bear.

You had to cum first. You had to. There was no arguing. He needed you to cum again. “That’s it, tesoro. You look so beautiful right now. Taking me so well. Cazzo! You gotta cum, amore. I don’t know how much more I can take. You feel so good! Cum for me, tesoro!”

It didn’t take you long to do as he said, your second orgasm hitting you just as powerfully as the first. You screamed as your fingers moved faster against your clit in an attempt to keep up with both Terzo’s cock and your own orgasm, hips bucking to chase the pleasure. Though you were in the throes of your own orgasm, you fought with your own body to keep your eyes open and your brain focussed so you could watch Terzo reach his own. His hips thrusting erratically inside you, his brows furrowed, his eyes fixed on the way your cunt was creaming at the sensation, running down your body and gathering on the wood. His mind showed him images of the way your juices used to gather at the base of his cock when he would ravish you over and over again. It was that thought that had him orgasming, burying himself deep inside you as he came.

You were always enraptured by the face he made when he came; mouth hanging wide open, a dark look in his eyes that told you he was the only one who got to do this to you. That you belonged to him and no one else. His hands gripped onto both of your hips tightly, as though you’d try and run from him before he had the chance to finish.

When he finally did, and both of your bodies had finally stilled, you both remained where you were in silence. You allowed the quietness to bathe you both in an intimate moment where only your eyes connected as you calmed, savouring what you both knew would be your final moments together. He pulled out of you, making you both wince at the feeling. His borrowed time was coming to an end and you both knew it.

A lump formed in your throat again when you heard the sadness in his voice. “Would you dress yourself for me, tesoro?”

You nodded and slowly dressed again, this time the lethargy was your way of procrastinating. When you put your habit back on, he’d have to leave. When you were dressed and decent, he’d walk back into the pentagram and his soul would return to Hell where he was supposed to remain. “I don’t want you to go.” You said once you were dressed, tears spilling from your eyes and fingers playing with your habit.

He stood from his position on the floor and walked over to you, kissing your forehead. “Amore mio, it brings me solace to be with you, if only for this fleeting moment. I’ve watched over you, felt your every sorrow. But my time here is ephemeral, and Lucifer wants me back.”

“Fuck what Lucifer wants! I can’t bear to let you go again! I still feel your absence every day, and it’s like a piece of me is missing. Dead.”

Terzo was crying, now, too. Eyes glassy and glistening as he wrapped his spectral arms around you and let you sob into the air where his shoulder should have been. “You must find the strength within you to carry on, tesoro. I will always be with you, in the whispers of the wind, in the warmth of the sunlight, and in the quiet moments of your solitude. You are not alone, and you never will be.” He took your hands in his. “But you have a life to live, and you must do it without me now.”

“But it’s not the same without you here. I ache for your touch, your laughter, your presence beside me.”

“I know, tesoro. But remember the joy we shared, the laughter that echoed through our days. Hold onto those memories. They’re the threads that bind us, even across the chasm of existence. You carry a piece of me within your heart, and I, yours.”

You nodded, even though you were still wanting to clutch onto him and never let him go. “I love you, Terzo. I will never forget you.”

He sniffed. “You better not forget me, or I’ll send Hell’s legions to come remind you.”

“Why can’t I hit you?”

“Lucifer has favourites, clearly your Papa is one of them, hm?” He paused, taking in your appearance one last time. “You were the very breath I breathed, amore mio. Towards the end, you were the only thing that I got out of bed for, the only reason I carried on. Love is too weak a word to describe my feelings for you. You are my sanctity, my guiding star in the night sky, the very life in my lungs. Your laughter is a symphony that resonates with the very essence of my being, echoes with a melody that reverberates through the chambers of my heart, a melody that I wish to cherish for all eternity. My heart will forever be yours.

“But, one day, when your heart no longer belongs to me-”

“Never gonna happen.”

“I want it to. I cannot bear the thought of you alone, pining after me for the rest of your life. Tesoro, you are young. Your beautiful heart still has so much to give. Don’t squander your life waiting for a man who can never return. One day, when your heart no longer belongs to me, I hope that the echoes of our love linger as a bittersweet melody, a testament to the timeless moments we shared in the embrace of a love that once knew no bounds.” He kissed your lips one final time.

Through wracked sobs, you echoed him, forcing the words out of your mouth because you knew you’d regret it for the rest of your life. “Goodbye, Terzo.” You wanted more to come out of your mouth. You wanted to tell him just what he meant to you, how his love made you a better person, how he was everything to you, too. But the lump in your throat wouldn’t let you get the words out. “I love you - I always will. I-”

“I know. Goodbye, ___.”

Terzo backed up into the pentagram, his eyes never leaving you. It could have killed him a second time to watch your heart break once more, shattering into a million pieces on the ground as you finally got to say the goodbye you both deserved the first time. Through blurred vision, you watched him blow you a kiss, before disappearing from this realm altogether, only to exist in your memory. From now on, his voice would only come through a speaker from the videos fans took at concerts, his face would forever remain unchanged and unaltered in the pictures on your dresser.

You fell to the floor, your heartbreak doing as much as it could to commit him to your memory before it faded and time began to heal your wounds. One step at a time. One day at a time. One day, you’d heal from this, but for now, all you could do was let yourself feel.

Previous Day ⛧ Next Day

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copias-girl · 1 year

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Cardinal in the Snow

Cardinal Copia x Reader

Based on this

Tags: Friends to lovers, lots of fluff, hurt/comfort

A/N: I listened to Life Eternal on loop while writing this to give it that Extra Juicy Emotion™️ so I recommend listening to it before reading this or during! <3

•♥︎♥︎♥︎•

You opened the large door of the abbey, wincing as the cruel winter wind forced the heavy door open, already biting at your flesh as you stepped outside. You pulled your long black cloak tighter around you, searching for your dear Cardinal. Someone said they’d seen him head outside after some harsh words from Papa Nihil, so he must be around here somewhere.

•

You were so in love with Cardinal Copia, always finding some excuse to be around him. Papa Secondo was teaching you Latin and certain rituals, but you often studied with Copia in his office, as he had offered to tutor you in Latin when you had mentioned something about Secondo’s scowl deepening whenever you got something wrong. You loved working by his side, even helping him with translations when he had a heavy workload, or reading over his sermon when he was due to conduct black mass.

It warmed your heart, seeing how the Cardinal enjoyed having you with him. He never outwardly expressed it, but you could tell he was fond of you. You only hoped it was in the same way that you were fond of him. He was a serious man, hardworking, but you could see through the cracks. His shy glances at you from across his desk, the way his gloved fingers would brush against yours when he handed you some papers, the way he would sometimes stutter when speaking to you. It all made your heart rate quicken, made you bite your lip as you stole your own glances at him.

You loved the way he would speak when he gently corrected your Latin, causing you to blush. He was such a good teacher and you longed to know more about him, but Copia didn’t say much about himself ever. You couldn’t tell if it was because he was too shy, too serious, or both. Maybe he thought you didn’t even care. No one else seemed to.

•

You braced yourself from the bitter cold and walked around the grounds of the ministry, snowflakes flying every which way with the changing directions of the wind. Following a pathway, you neared the cemetery; and although it was hard to see with all the snowfall, you could barely make out a dark figure amongst the tombstones.

Breaking into a light jog, you hurried over to him, the image of your pensive Cardinal becoming clearer with each step you took; his head down, shoulders slumped, gloved hands clasped in front of him as he strolled along. His brows were furrowed, the corners of his lips pulled down sadly, clearly deep in thought.

“Cardinal!” You shouted above the wind, catching up with the man.

“Eh?” Copia spun around, surprised. The image of him melted your heart right then and there. His lips, cheeks, and nose were reddened from the piercing cold, freckles becoming more prominent with his blush. His dark-socketed eyes were ever so slightly watering from the harshness of the unforgivingly frigid howling wind, while snowflakes stuck to his cassock, his hair, eyelashes, and even a few on his moustache. You knew he must be freezing, no body heat left, because they weren’t even melting.

Copia wasn’t dressed for the cold either, only wearing his black cassock and a meagre scarf wrapped cutely around his neck.

“T-Topolina, what are you doing out here in this cold?” He had the audacity to ask.

“I could ask you the same thing.” You shook your head, blushing at that nickname he always called you as you stepped closer to him. “I came out searching for you.”

You dared to close the gap between the two of you, wrapping your arms around him, encompassing him within your cloak. You could feel the iciness on his clothes as you pulled him into you. Although you were getting cold, Copia was much colder from staying out so long, and he gratefully snuggled into the warmth of your body, shivering slightly as he encircled you with his arms.

“Oh, Cardinal, you’re freezing..” You sighed worriedly. Reaching up to cup his frozen face in your hands, you gazed into his mismatched eyes, your breath quickening as his arms wrapped around your waist just a little bit tighter.

Maybe it was the cold making you light headed, or maybe it was that sorrowful look in his eyes, but you just couldn’t help it, you couldn’t wait any longer.

Slowly, you pressed kisses to Copia’s cheeks, the tip of his nose, his lips; trying to kiss away the chill with your warm affection.

The Cardinal’s eyes widened, breath hitching in his throat as he was completely taken aback by your actions. He sighed, mismatched eyes fluttering closed, melting into you and relishing in the comforting sensation of your actions; finally finally finally. Your kisses felt hot on his skin, especially when your lips parted and allowed his tongue to slip into your mouth. With you here, kissing him like this, he felt warmer already.

You were so pleasantly surprised when he kissed you back, and the two of you kissed slowly and deeply among the countless gravestones, snow falling harder and harder around you as you stroked his cheeks with your thumbs. The Cardinal was so moved by your unabashed affection for him that a tear rolled down the his cheek, and when you felt it against your hand, it only made you kiss him more ardently.

You stayed like that for a few moments, sighing into each other’s mouths, lips brushing together in gentle passion. Now, Copia’s cheeks weren’t flushed just from the cold.

“C-c-come back ins-side, C-Cardinal..” You whispered against his lips, teeth beginning to chatter as the inhospitable wind blew right through you, chilling you to the bone. You could only imagine how your poor Copia felt, and you didn’t want him winding up with a cold.

The feeling of you shivering in his arms pulled the Cardinal out of his loving, kiss-drunk daze. “Poveretta.. it is t-too c-cold for you out here, you will c-catch your death…” Copia shook his head, urgency and guilt flashing in his mismatched gaze. You wouldn’t have had to come out in this weather searching for him if he hadn’t run out here. But he just couldn’t help it, Nihil’s harsh words painfully pierced through him and he just needed some air and time to reflect on his own. Walking through the cemetery always calmed him; it was something he did ever since he was a young boy here at the ministry.

You adjusted Copia’s scarf, pulling it to cover him more as the both of you hurried back towards the abbey hand in hand.

Sighing in relief, you both forced the heavy door shut as the blizzard blew flurries of snow into the ministry, shaking the snow off each other’s hair and shoulders. Huddled together, you all but ran down the corridors and up the large staircase, rushing into your room, which was closer than his.

Upon entering your room, you shed your cloak and boots, pulling Copia into you and onto the bed. He gasped in surprise as he fell on top of you, the tips of your noses brushing together. He began mumbling an apology before you stopped him.

“Let me warm you up, Cardinal.” You whispered, wrapping your arms around the man as he shivered on top of you. You kissed the tip of his nose once more, carding your fingers through his hair when he buried his face in the crook of your neck.

Suddenly, he lifted his head, looking you in the eyes. “How… how long?”

You shook your head, eyes welling up with tears. “Ever since I first laid eyes on you, Cardinal.” You replied, kissing him over and over again.

“Topolina, I… I have waited so long for this. I never did think it would come. I never thought you would- well, that you would like me in this way.” Copia explained in between kisses, softly stroking his gloved fingers down your cheek.

“Why wouldn’t I?” You questioned, to which your dear Cardinal chuckled sadly.

“Dolcezza you… You are beautiful enough to be with any Papa, and I… I never thought you would see anything in me.” He responded. “You know, no one has ever really shown interest in me before you… But I thought you were just being kind to an old man.”

Your heart broke as Copia spoke. “Cardinal I….” You sighed. “I only have eyes for you. I love spending time with you. You’re so interesting and smart, such an amazing teacher, and really fun to be with. Everyone else is just… missing out.”

The Cardinal’s heart swelled with emotion as you spoke, his moustache tickling your skin as he kissed your cheeks and neck, rubbing his face against yours. Every unkind word that had ever been spoken to him was being dissolved by you in this very moment. It felt like nothing else mattered as he captured you in a searing kiss.

“I know you were upset about something Papa Nihil said but… Whatever it was, just know that it isn’t true. You’re worth so much, Cardinal.” You sniffled, tears rolling down your cheeks as you looked up at him. Satanas, you just loved him so much. You wanted him to know how much he meant, how good he was. Even if no one else appreciated him.

“Oh, Topolina…” Copia sighed, sounding relieved, like a pressure inside him had finally broken. “You are a gift. A gift for me from Lucifero himself, si? I feel like I am dreaming.”

You nodded, holding his face in your hands, delighting in his surprised expression and shaky exhale as you wrapped your legs around his waist. “I’m yours, Cardinal. All yours.”

Copia ran a fingertip over your lips, marvelling at you. At how you could love someone like him. He was still in disbelief, waiting to wake up any second and be alone in his own bed.

“Have you warmed up now?” You asked, gently tracing his features and the lines on his pretty face.

“Ehh, I think I am still cold, Dolcezza. Perhaps you should hold me tighter, si?” He lied, a handsome little smirk on his face.

You giggled, obliging your dear Cardinal, pulling him into you impossibly closer. “You know, I think I have an idea of how we can really warm up together” You murmured.

“Dimmi, amore mio.” He kissed your neck.

“A nice steamy shower.”

Copia stiffened, his dark-socketed eyes widened as he pulled back to look at you. “Eh.. a shower… together?”

“Uh huh.” You answered simply, licking across his lips and causing the poor man’s breath to hitch in his throat.

After a moment of gazing at one another in tense silence, you and Copia scrambled to get off the bed and hurry into the bathroom.

the end <3

Tagging some ghesties who might like this! Sorry for the unsolicited tag, let me know if you want to be tagged in things I write or not! 🖤 @sucharide @my-mummy-dust @the-hole-in-terzos-shoe @rightintheghoulies @copiaswifey @youhaveahomeinmyheart

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morganalatina21 · 1 year

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Manipulating Death: Chapter Nine

Series Summary: When Harry discovers he has a twin sister that was hiding for years, he wants to know all about her, specially about her ability to bring people back to life.

Warnings: angst, angst yet again, identity questioning, death talk, depreciative self talking, fluff towards the end.

a/n: I'll have another exam on Sunday and Monday, so I'm about to be real stressed this couple days so I decided to release it a little early for you guys, hope you enjoy it :))

Last Chapter | Masterlist

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"Someone's at the door!" Lupin said, coming downstairs, wand in hand and gesturing to the brothers.

Sirius and Regulus stood up, noticing the loud bangs on the outside wasn’t their imagination or sleepy thoughts.

Running and tripping on the steps, they hid close to the bedrooms doors, prepared to run and escape if the slightest possibility of a Death Eater being the one out there.

Remus looked at them, checking if you could notice Regulus’ eyes twinkling in the dark, he was curious, and desperately wanting it to be Y/n.

But what are the chances?

Zero, he concluded.

Even with that mindset, he couldn’t help but let out a disappointed sigh when the werewolf opened the door and it was Severus Snape, looking even older than Sirius, and startled eyes stared annoyed at Lupin.

“The Floo connection has been tempered.” He said, making his way in after saying the password. “And I think you owe me an explanation, Lupin."

"Do I?" He asked, keeping his tone down and unbothered.

"You disappeared with Harry that night at the Ministry, so I figured you might have some answers to why there's a rumor among Death Eaters that Sirius Black is alive."

"And why would I know anything about it?" Remus played dumb and Sirius held in a smile at hearing his mocking however polite voice. "Seems like something you should check with your people."

Snape huffed in annoyance, their images disappearing from Regulus' sight when both of them made their way into the living room.

Sirius stared at his little brother, seeing how he looked to the door expectantly and his heart dropped.

Y/n meant a lot to him, clearly.

His face was red and a little swollen from crying himself to sleep.

He couldn't remember the last time he saw his brother crying, usually the boy would bottle it all up and never feel it again, being the perfect heir of iron, shoving everything down.

"Hey." He called, attracting Regulus' eyes. "Do you..." Stuttered, not exactly knowing how to say it.

"It's okay, Sirius." The younger muttered under his breath, eyeing the floor so known to him. "I should be used to it by now."

"Fuck no." Sirius held himself from shouting, he had enough of this shit. Enough of hiding, enough of Voldemort and his actions hurting people. "I have an idea."

"Shoud I be worried?"

"You should be preparing a love declaration to that girl."

And backed off, a mischievous smile on his face Regulus haven't seen in years. He shivered and followed his brother, holding on to that last straw of hope.

A love declaration? Was that what he felt for her? Love?

Like... in a romantic way?

He had no clue at all.

But whatever it was, stopped his eyes from tearing constantly and a small light to lit above his heart.

She could be alive, right?

...

Right?

When Y/n opened up her eyes, she found herself in the basement.

Door open, cages empty and no possessor around. She had no idea of the time or how long it took for her to wake up, but that on the floor was certainly a body and some blood.

Whoever it was, he certainly was a Death Eater.

Hearing nothing but silence, she started walking upstairs, vision somewhat blurry and it felt like she was looking from underwater.

There was nothing out of place, they probably didn't fight for long.

They were probably worried, the thought ran her mind, leaving everything behind and moving to the room to gather some baggage.

But wait, who were they?

Watching the feets stop on its tracks, her mind went empty for some moments, she felt off balance on the stairs and held to the wooden handrail.

They were the Black brothers, of course!

Well, since when Regulus gave a shit?

Harry! Her mind screamed, moving forward and stepping into the room. Harry is worried.

Throwing some books inside a backpack with some clothes, she couldn't still get that nauseous sensation to go away.

Some time without magic would be much needed.

Her hand reached for a hairbrush on top of the drawer, it was one of the only things left from James.

James?? Who the hell is James?

James Potter, of course! Your best friend.

No, we weren't that close, actually. He was just this arrogant kid from school.

But I never even went to school.

And besides, he wasn't arrogant, why would I think that? I spent years trying to get him and Lily together.

At the thought of Lily, she noticed the dove necklace Evans got from Remus Lupin.

Remus Lupin, the werewolf. Why would she ever be friends with that monster?

Shit!

She dropped the hairbrush, only now noticing how it didn't caused that warm sensation, current when she thought about her father.

Oh fuck.

God, no.

She was dead.

That's why the nausea and headache, and why everything was so god damn blurred. She's dead.

Murdered when she tried stopping a killer to get to the oned she loved so they could buy some time.

Died just like her father.

Wand-less, by the Death curse and unable to know if they escaped.

And those voices.

The people she saved.

Kurt, that little boy, she could still hear him screaming through her when the werewolf's teeth were separating flesh from bone.

Sirius, still so attached to Hogwarts he could die thinking of it.

Regulus, took so much from her she felt like his twin instead of Harry's.

And Luna, a kid who actually almost died millions of times but she felt forced to bring her back, despite promising Regulus she wouldn't do it again.

So now, her soul was fragmented, pieces of people she saved getting in the way of her own memories and knowledge.

First layer.

Acknowledging your time on the living world, all the way to your death.

But now four entire lives were collapsing with hers.

Who was she?

Y/n! Her mind screamed at her, but something kept feeling weird about that name. It was familiar, of course. But not one to attend to.

Black felt like an okay name, but it also didn't fit.

Fuck fuck fuck.

Things were screaming inside that body, and looking in the mirror was useless.

Whenever some trail of a good path came up, it suddenly felt weird, like wearing wet socks.

And Merlin, that nausea.

Nothing ever felt like that.

Well, thinking about it, drowning was pretty bad.

Drowning? It made no fucking sense, water always scared her, wouldn't even get into a bathtub.

Or did she? Taking baths in the Gryffindor's bathroom sounded familiar.

The voices on her mind kept running in circles, sounding so right yet so wrong. That wasn't her.

Time felt endless for all the time she was there.

Tried running away, opening the door, but her body would fall into an endless black void, and then back into that house.

A few moments her actual mind got back and she could understand everything that was happening. But just in time the thought of reversing it started, another mind would get in the way.

After the few hundreds of times, she just gave up.

When it was actually Y/n Potter there, all she could do was start crying. The path she chose got her stuck, unable to fetch a spot at higher layers, less painful layers.

She cried for not being able to move any other way.

Nor to see her brother, nor to see her parents.

Day in, day out.

The void of death came way too soon, feeling completely empty. Not feeling too warm or too cold, always hungry and always thirsty.

Always in excruciating pain.

And once again, alone.

From the second layer on their souls could reach other's, so she couldn't even be with that motherfucking Death Eater to mock or provoke. Sirius' side of her would definitely like that.

On the third day after she died, she tried putting pieces of her death back together. Unsuccessful.

Too much movement, too fast.

She remembered the curse. No, wait. Did she? Or was it Regulus hearing his parent's murder someone?

Regulus.

He was the only thing in her mind on the fifth day.

Even with his soul there, she still couldn't understand his feelings towards her. His voice related melodiously the warmth and tingling inside whenever she was around.

But when you feel void for so long, you forget what those things mean.

"Why?" She asked.

It was the nineth day, and finally she had he the courage to actually gaze at her dead body, lying in the cold basement, eyes frozen and hair thrown on the ground.

It was useless and they knew, but she even attempted to force back inside her own body.

Now, after crying and dozens of discussions on her own, all she was able to do was stare.

"Why the fuck did you have to be so weak??!?" She shouted, voice trembling and gurgling on her throat. "Why are you so bloody stupid? Now they're alone again! And you're stuck here forever you useless bitch!"

If she had any body fluids her face would be swollen and wet with tears and she'd be spitting all over the body.

"Congratulations, you failed! Yet again."

The girl's hands were shaking and her balance was completely off, waiting for that corpse on the floor to miraculously move.

"Get up! Get the fuck up! YOU CAN'T LEAVE THEM!" She howled to the sunken face. "P-phlease! You saw your brother's face! Reggie's face! Sirius and Remus face! Let them be happy!"

"Your nightmare is a lie!!!" She yelled, voice gargling and harspy. "Is a fucking lie! They don't want to live without you! PLEASE!"

Why was she crying again? Who's Harry?

Diving into the silence of after death, she sighed as Kurt's mind took in.

Until she heard the door creek.

And Regulus came downstairs, followed by his brother.

His face immediately fell when he saw her body on the floor, arms apart and legs pointing left. Eyes open and without any light.

That's what he feared. She was dead.

"Fuck..." Sirius mumbled, head falling. He instantly remember seeing Lily's body. "Regulus, I'm–"

"Leave me alone." The younger interrupted, eyes burning with tears.

The Black boy thought he was alone with her body as Sirius closed the door on his way out, but little did he knew, Y/n soul was there.

Knowing the soul world so much, he imagined she'd already be by the third or fourth layer, on her way to meet her parents.

He breathed in, walking closer, but avoiding to look at her face, instead noticing the other corpse.

"You fought." Just above a whisper, he stated. "I always knew you would. You've always been too strong for this world."

"I still remember when you saved me, how you'd stay by my bed to make sure I was okay. I fucking hated it but you were there when no one have ever been, so I softened."

Yes, she thought, begging him to continue.

That's exactly what she needed. Memories.

"Merlin, I knew so much about you." He sighed, still not being able to look at the girl's face, opting to stare at her bare feet. "I always hated you walking barefoot around the house, you'd occasionally catch a cold and I worried sick."

"And, of course, I'd make your favorite food. I even started liking that thing you eat." His tears were already falling vigorously. "I took so much from you I barely recognize myself. Your favorite books, your favorite songs, all of it."

"You were like... A shot of espresso, that I even started liking because of you."

She started feeling it, the voices quieting.

Her soul was starting to feel like hers once again.

"Being with you day by day was like being under the sunlight right after a diving into cold water. Warm with that sense of chill. A feeling everything would be okay."

He finally turned, feeling a hit on his chest upon seeing her face, so pale and sad. This wasn't her. This wasn't his Y/n.

"You shouldn't be here. Like that in a cold basement." There was almost disgust on his voice, chest rising and falling rapidly.

"You- kch." Regulus sobbed. "You swore. You swore I'd never be alone again, you said you'd find me."

Fast eyes was scanning her face, waiting for a movement, voice so low it felt like he was praying.

"Please..."

Sighing, he felt the air become thicker and thicker, impossible to breath. Swearing silently he'd come back to give her a proper funeral, Regulus started making his way up the stairs, defeated once more.

Then, Y/n breathed in.

Taglist: @intoanothermind @moonysupremacy01 @maraudersarelifee @elleraelockwood @darkenwolfie @hopesf @lukewearingbeanies @azuredgalaxies @klazina-couch-potato @goldensunshineshit @kaverichauhan @venomsvl @mrs-billyrussooo @mikadorbs @iavenderh6ze @wizardsgrace @reblog-princess @dittos-blog-dylanobrien @roroswitherose @s-we-e-t-t-ea @ok-boke @warcelia @danyxthirstae01 @b-tchymoon @lovely-maryj @adriannamirse @seesaw-it

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#harry potter #manipulating death series #regulus black #harry potter fanfiction #remus lupin #sirius black #albus dumbledore #black brothers #dumbledore #order of the phoenix #regulus deserved better #regulus black x reader

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valentineforlemonandcherry · 3 months

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Joke's On You 19

When Fred Weasley carelessly bumps into you into the hallway, you decide to take him a notch down; not by berating him, but by showing him up at his own game of using your charm and intellect to get what you want. And it’s fine if the end result doesn’t leave everyone quite satisfied - in fact, that’s what you want…

[Fred Weasley x Reader.] [Warning: Story Contains Explicit Smut.] [Warning: Non-Consent.] [Warning: Manipulation.] [Warning: Humiliation.] [Warning: Light Bondage.]

Note: *The smut isn't very strong in this one, but the humiliation aspect is played up a little. Please take care of yourself and do not read if it will upset you in any way.

⍟ Click Here for Joke’s On You Home Page (All Chapter Links) ⍟

You were the very picture of calm as you waltzed in through Fred’s door later that evening. You were holding a letter in one hand, and a stack of papers in your other arm as you came in. As George and Lee were out (for they took every advantage to set up pranks while you were distracted with Fred), you immediately made yourself at home in Fred’s bed – though you had to take a moment to straighten out the sheets and fluff up the pillows – and began rifling through your papers.

Fred studied you closely. There was a small bandage taped to your cheek. Fred wondered if that bandage was there for the reason he guessed it was… But she seems entirely too calm. Hm. There was a long beat of silence between the two of you, until Fred finally tossed an old Chocolate Frog wrapper at you.

“What’re you up to?”

You held up the store catalogue that you were looking through. It was from Madam Malkin’s shop, Robes for All Occasions.

Fred peered at the page you were on – and wrinkled his nose. “Is that your idea of an upgraded ‘mistress’ costume? ‘Cause I have to say, it’s a bit too formal to turn me on, love.”

You snorted. “You wish, Fred Weasley. This is for my internship interview.”

“Internship? Internship where?”

“With the Wizengamot.”

“Oh. Those prats.”

“Have some respect. Doesn’t your father work for the Ministry?”

“Yeah, but he works in the Muggle Things office.” Leaning back in his chair and roughing up the back of his hair, Fred explained, “They’re all a bit funny, but they aren’t prats.”

You wrinkled your nose. “The what office?”

Fred shrugged. “I forget the actual name. But my point is that the Wizengamot is where all the prats are at. It’s just one giant gathering of prats.”

“Will you stop using that word?”

“Prat?” Fred pondered. “What’s wrong with that word? Prat… prat, prat, prat.”

You stopped perusing the magazine to shoot Fred a hard look.

Willfully oblivious to your glare, Fred went on, “Besides, you have to wear that hideous black cloak over all of your clothing, so what’s the point of dressing so formally?”

In fact, you had often wondered this yourself. But you were hardly going to admit this to Fred. You said stoutly, “Because it’s a symbol of how seriously you take the position.”

Fred chortled. “So, if you were naked under the Wizengamot robes, you’d just be having a laugh, is that it? In that case, I bet Fudge is butt naked under his robes, because he can’t even take Voldemort seriously, can he?”

You decided to ignore Fred, but he carried on, “Merlin, imagine this: Fudge grandly opens the door of the Wizengamot chamber – but oh no, the wind’s lifted his robes and the truth is out – our Minister is as naked as a stripped chicken – Hey!” Fred suddenly cried out as you, having reached your limit of how much of this nonsense you could take, abruptly picked up your magazine and threw it at him. Fred quickly ducked, and your magazine flopped sadly onto the floor behind him.

Meanwhile, you shouted, “I don’twant to imagine such a thing! And I do not need that image in my head as I go into this interview!”

Fred laughed heartily. “Good, so you won’t join the prats, then.”

You groaned and buried your head into your arms.

Fred got up from his chair and came over onto the bed. He tried to slide onto the bed, next to you, but you, while keeping your head down in your arms, refused to move.

Finally, Fred elbowed you and grunted, “Oi, shove aside.”

“Go back to your desk,” you muttered, annoyed. “You’re not wanted here.”

Fred shoved at you harder, pushing his shoulder into yours. “It’s my bed, you crocodile.”

With a sigh, you fidgeted over to make room for Fred. Pulling your wand out of your jacket, you pointed it at the magazine. “Accio.” It flew back to you. You spread it down neatly on the bed and began to flip through it once more.

Fred watched you. He stared at the bandage on your cheek again. He suddenly blurted out, “What if I told you there’s an organization better than the Ministry?”

You replied dryly, “Being a prankster’s assistant is not better than being a member of the Wizengamot.”

“It so is,” Fred replied. “But that’s not what I was talking about.”

“What were you talking about, then?”

Fred chewed on his lower lip. “Well… Say there was an organization that fought against all of this pureblood nonsense and Muggle prejudice directly. An organization that didn’t have to deal with all of stupid denial that Fudge is putting out at the Ministry. Would you join?”

You looked up at Fred. “Is there an organization like that?”

“I dunno,” Fred said quickly. “But I was just saying, if there was, would you join that organization instead of the Ministry?”

“Hm…” You turned over onto your back as you thought through what Fred was saying.

Fred watched you, strangely tense, as if your answer was singularly important to him.

“No,” you decided. “I would still want to join the Ministry.”

Fred blinked. Then, his gaze quickly dropped away from you.

Stretching your hands out towards the ceiling, you explained, “Because the problem is that the Ministry of Magic is seen as the legitimate wizarding body, so no matter how many rogue groups appear – and they should appear – they still wouldn’t address the issue that Muggle-borns are not adequately represented within our ruling body. How can we vote to restrict the rights of Muggle-borns and call that fair, when there are no Muggle-borns on the Wizengamot? How can we judge the experiences of Muggle-borns and decide whether they are magical or not – although they are, by definition – when there are no Muggle-borns on the panel? It doesn’t make any sense. And I know that having just a few Muggle-borns join the ranks won’t solve the problem at all. But still, it has to start somewhere, doesn’t it?”

While you were speaking, Fred’s gaze had slowly but surely found its way back to you. He looked up at your hands, reaching towards the sky, and then traced your lovely arms back to your bright, intelligent face. He let out a quiet sigh, so quiet that you didn’t hear it, before he said, quite simply, “Yeah, s’pse so.”

You picked up the magazine and began rifling through the last few pages. Coming across the menswear pages, you observed, “It’s a shame you aren’t more refined, Fred. Then maybe I really could call you ‘sir.’”

“You just wait, love,” Fred assured you. “Once I have a bit of money to spend, I’m definitely gonna be worthy of the name ‘sir’. I’ll look so good, I’ll blow your socks off.”

“If you look so good, shouldn’t I be blowing you?” you murmured, very casually.

Fred paused. “Well – Well - ”

You pretended as if you hadn’t said anything at all, but out of the corner of your eye, you saw Fred suddenly twitch, and you barely held back a smirk.

“Worthy of the name ‘sir’? Really?” you continued, letting your skepticism bleed into your voice. “What would you wear? Something like this?” You pointed to an image in the magazine, of a sharp-looking pair of black and silver wizard robes.

Fred scoffed. “Are you kidding me? That’s for pillocks.”

“I think it looks rather dashing.”

“That’s because you’ve got no imagination, love,” Fred said, shaking his head at you. “No, I’d wear something like – Hold on, I’ll show you.” He slid off of the bed and walked over to his desk. He pulled out a catalogue, which he had marked with a chocolate frog card, and then brought it back over to show you. Confidently putting his finger down on his preferred outfit, he announced, “Feast your eyes! I’d wear something like this.”

You looked down to where he was pointing so proudly.

“Fred, this is absolutely horrendous.”

“What!?”

“This is – Crimson dragon skin? Oh, Merlin. Could you be any more unrefined? Why don’t you just Stupefy an Erumpent and wear it around your shoulders? It would be less obvious.”

Fred flared up indignantly. “Excuse me for having a sense of fashion that’s not based entirely around having a stick up my ass!”

“You are so dramatic.” You rolled your eyes. “Listen to me. Crimson? Against your ginger hair? It’ll clash. And dragon skin? That just screams ‘needy’ and ‘flashy.’” You paused. “Wait, on second thought, that’s perfect for you.”

Fred growled, “You take that back.”

“Then you agree that these are ill-fitting on you?”

“No!”

“Oh, so you agree that you’re needy and flashy?”

“No – Wait, what?” Fred said, confused.

You tried to maintain your serious composure, but your giggle slipped through as you teased him, “You can’t have it both ways, Fred. You know what that means, right? You’ll never be a ‘sir.’”

Fred exhaled sharply. He snatched the catalogue back from you. “I was being serious!”

You laughed. Reaching over, you patted his shoulder. “Oh, Fred… I’m sorry, but it’s impossible not to tease you when you bring out suggestions like that and act all serious about it.”

“I’m not acting, I am serious about it,” Fred protested, looking away from you in a rather annoyed manner. “You just wait and see.”

“All right,” you said pleasantly. “I’ll wait and see.”

Fred paused. Still holding the catalogue in one hand, he swiveled his head around to look at you. “You will?”

You nodded earnestly.

At this, Fred slowly melted. He reached out with one hand and stroked your hair as he murmured, “Well, I dunno why the hell you’d want to be in a group of prats, when you’re a special prat, and you’re better than all of ‘em, but if you really want this… I hope you get to join and work for chicken-butt Fudge.”

You smiled wanly at this heart-felt encouragement. “Thanks, Fred. Thanks very much.”

* * * * * * * * * *

It looked as though you were all done for the evening, as if you were getting all ready to leave Fred’s dormitory and head down to dinner, when -

“Ah, that’s right. I nearly forgot.” You whirled around and, lifting your wand, shouted, “Incarcerous!”

Black ropes appeared out of thin air and wrapped themselves all around Fred. Fred, who had been standing beside his desk and putting away the catalogue, yelped as he suddenly found himself all wrapped up. He instinctively stumbled backwards, but he tripped and started to fall over.

You leapt forward and grabbed him, but instead of helping him stay upright, you lowered him to the ground. Then, while Fred was shouting indignities at you, you very slowly stepped over Fred and then sat on him, until your knees were tucked tightly against either side of his hips.

“What’re you playing at?” Fred yelled hotly.

You stared at Fred for a moment.

“Let me go!” Fred protested. “This isn’t your stupid sex dungeon, it’s my room!”

“Same thing,” you said dismissively. Then, you cocked your head, studying Fred for a second longer. “Hm.”

“What, you maniac?” Fred said angrily.

You decided, “Right, I prefer pink.” You tapped your wand against the ropes crossing Fred’s chest and the black ropes instantly turned pink.

You smiled. “Much better.” Then, you reached into your pocket and pulled out a long pink ribbon, with a little silver bell on it.

“The hell is that?” Fred cried out, already fearing the worst.

“My gift for you,” you said innocently. “Don’t you like it?” You swung the ribbon, and the bell let out a little tinkle sound.

“Why in the world would I ever - ?” Fred began.

But you’d already leaned forward to loop the ribbon around his neck.

When Fred cursed at you and then tried to bite you, you said sternly, “Down, puppy,” and gently swatted his cheek.

“Wha - ? Wha - ? Puppy?” Fred sputtered indignantly.

“Yes, and there’s your leash,” you said lovingly, as you tied the ribbon prettily, so that the bell hung at Fred’s neck. Once tied, you patted the bell, and when it rang, you let out a loud sigh of happiness and you sank down further onto Fred’s chest. In fact, you even blushed with pleasure for Fred looked so cute wearing his little leash.

“Mm, you’re really so pretty, Fred,” you whispered, looking down at him with adoring eyes. “Ropes and ribbons… Yes, I want to cover you with ropes and ribbons…” You leaned down and bit at Fred’s neck. “Mmm… You’d be all mine.”

“Wha…?” Fred repeated mindlessly, gaping at you like a fish.

“Hah…” You let out the softest little laugh as you breathed your mouth against his neck. “Little puppy, all dressed up with nowhere to go… But you can perform for me.” You sat back up and said, with a tight smirk on your lips, “Maybe I’ll throw you a few treats if you play nicely.”

At a loss for words, Fred turned bright pink.

Then, crossing your arms across your chest, you looked down at Fred. The playfulness suddenly disappeared from your demeanor as you said, rather seriously, “Surely you know why I’ve done this to you.”

Fred replied irately, “Do I ever?”

You reached up and ripped the bandage off of your face. “Get rid of it.”

“Ah.” All of Fred’s anger melted away at once, for Fred grinned brightly when he saw the heart stamped onto your face. “So you weren’t quick enough to avoid my punch of love, eh?”

Your eyes smoldered with a silent, but building fury. “I said, get rid of it.”

A wicked glint shimmered in Fred’s eyes as he chirped, “Nah, I’d rather not. It suits you.”

What had happened, of course, was that Fred’s little “gift,” which he had given you after your love-making session in the classroom wardrobe, had actually been a prank. Inside the little box, you’d found a tiny telescope. You’d curiously extended it and then put it up to your eye, at which point a tiny punching hand had popped out. You’d been quick enough to start to dodge it, but the hand still got you in the face, right on your cheek, so that your cheek was now stamped with a tiny ink heart. Worse still, no Spell or Potion could get rid of the heart imprint, and you’d had to resort to covering it up with a bandage as you went about your day, attending classes and conducting prefect duties.

“Fred,” you whispered, not letting your voice betray even a hint of your impatience, “I’m about two seconds away from making you bend over for me to spank you until you cry like a baby.”

Fred scoffed.

Your eyes narrowed. “You pretend like it’s a ridiculous thought, but both you and I know that you would do it.”

“Not in a million years,” Fred replied flatly. “And not when you look so ridiculous, you heart monster.”

Your nostrils flared for a second, but you managed to control yourself. “Fine,” you said matter-of-factly. “Then, I’ll leave you here, tied up in your bedroom with your little puppy bell on, and leave your bedroom door open for all to see.”

“You’re such a sadist,” Fred muttered. “If you want me to take the heart off of you, shouldn’t you be trying to get on my good side? Why are you threatening me?”

Your eyes went wide. “I’m threatening you?” You shifted forward and then sank your nails into Fred’s chest so abruptly that he gasped a little. “When?” you whispered. “When have I ever threatened you?”

“Now,” Fred said dryly, despite the fact that he was wincing slightly as he felt you drag your fingernails down his chest. Even though he had his shirt on, he could feel the fabric being dragged by your fingers. “Right now. You want me to embarrass myself in front of the whole world.”

“But you’d enjoy it,” you pointed out, padding your hands against his chest. “I mean, isn’t that what you do with your pranks – display how embarrassingly immature you are to the whole world?”

“You’re mad that I got one up on you,” Fred said knowingly. “I’m pulling off all of my pranks. I got to make the first move in your stupid little board game. I got you to sign off on my detention sheet. And now you fall prey to my punching prank. You can’t stand that I’m winning at your stupid little games. That what’s going on, isn’t it?”

Ignoring him, you murmured lovingly, “Don’t lie, Fred. You’d love to be all laid out like that, for everyone to see just what a cute puppy you can be for me.” As you spoke, you began to move your hips a little, rubbing yourself gently against Fred. At the same time, you began to hum softly. “Mm…”

Fred corrected you, “First of all, I’m not a damn puppy. Second of all - No, I wouldn’t love that. I think you’d love other people to see that.”

“Oh, no,” you said, and your voice suddenly became a tad more serious. “I would never want anyone else to see how vulnerable you get for me. That’s for my eyes only, Freddie.”

Fred paused. “Well then, why - ?”

Leaning over him, you kissed his cheek (and gave his neck another bite, hard enough to make him suddenly cut off) before you murmured, “Enough talk. What’ll it be, Freddie?”

“Huh?” Fred said, confused.

“Choose,” you ordered, while sucking on his neck. Your voice came out slightly muffled, as you said, “And choose wisely.” You’d only just given him your order when you grabbed the collar of his shirt and started to properly grind your hips against him.

“What – What’re you doing?” Fred suddenly stuttered out.

You felt his stomach tense beneath you. You smiled as you hid your face against his neck. “Nothing. Now tell me, what will it be, hm?”

“Well, Merlin, at least give me a chance to t-think straight,” Fred muttered, only to moan a second little as he felt you move on top of him.

You leaned down and sucked on his neck. “Mmm,” you moaned, more loudly now. Then, you confessed breathily, “You know, Fred, I couldn’t stop thinking about you in class. I reckon I even came a little in class, just from replaying our little session in the cupboard moments before I walked into class. You left me a right mess, baby, and I was having a hard time holding back in class. I wanted to touch myself to the thought of you, but I couldn’t, and it was so, so frustrating.”

“Fuck,” Fred breathed out softly. “Baby, get rid of the ropes so I can touch you. I’ll give you what you want right now.”

“No,” you whispered back, though you kept your voice quite soft. “Because that was before you betrayed me and pulled this stupid prank on me.”

Fred let out an impatient huff. “It was just a little prank. Come on.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I told you. It’s because I hate your stupid punching telescope.” As you gave your explanation, you let your hands roam his chest before you began to slowly drag your hands down his body, all the way down to his waist and then lower… lower… “Such a shame,” you whispered. “I really wanted you again.”

Fred moaned again, more loudly this time. “Forget about the telescope,” said, half-ordering you and half-pleading with you.

You shook your head softly at him as you gathered your hands just above his cock. “Can’t, Fred,” you said, sounding completely heartbroken. “I can’t just forget about that.”

“You c-can,” Fred stuttered out bravely. “Besides, it’s cute! And I thought you like hearts! It was a gift from me, your boyfriend.”

Yes, but I don’t want one punched on my face! you thought. And you made me feel stupid. When I opened the box from you, I thought there’d be something else in it. Maybe a piece of jewelry or… or my button back… Something cute or heartfelt. But all I got was a ridiculous punch to the face!

You replied, “Well, but a good boyfriend wouldn’t pretend to give his girlfriend a gift that punched her in the face and left an un-erasable mark.”

“It is erasable,” Fred protested. He was now straining against the ropes, trying very hard to be able to touch you, to have you again…

Ah, there we go, you thought, ignoring Fred’s efforts to touch you. I knew it would be. It’s just that ordinary erasing spells and potions won’t work. He’s created a singular ink with a singular corresponding eraser. I bet that’s why he asked me about creating permanent ink the other day. I can’t believe I helped him make this ridiculous product!

You watched Fred carefully as you murmured lightly, “Oh, is it?”

“Duh,” Fred replied. “It’s not a joke if you can’t get it off at all, moron.”

Just then, you pushed your hips against Fred hard. Fred let out a whimper. His hands twitched, as he meant to grab your hips, but his arms were still tied down against his body.

“Ah…” he breathed out.

“But I could get this mark off, then?” you whispered gently, trying not to tip your hand too much. You were close, you could feel that you were. “There’s a Potion, isn’t there, Fred?”

At that moment, Fred glimpsed down.

“I see.” You reached behind you and put your hand on his cock, through his jeans. Got you, you thought victoriously, but you remained calm, playing your part ever so slowly to make sure that Fred would be off his guard at the most important part.

Fred groaned, feeling your sweet hands grasping so needily at his cock through his pants. “Yes, baby…”

“Mm, Fred,” you moaned, biting your lower lip. Your hands slipped messily over the front of his pants as you started to palm his cock. “We just can’t seem to get enough of each other today, huh?”

“Fuck,” Fred breathed out. “You really want more?”

You let your blush as you nodded softly, almost sleepily. “Yeah,” you whimpered.

Oh fuck, she’s getting all soft on top of me, Fred thought. He swallowed hard. I love it when she gets all dreamy like this. Godric, I wanna touch her…

“Well,” Fred told you, “I wouldn’t say no to making love to you again. I’d never say no to that.” He pushed against his ropes again, trying to free himself.

Finding himself still tied down, Fred implored, “Baby, if you want me, you should free - ”

You suddenly cut him off. “Yeah,” you moaned. “Want – Want you…! Mmm!” You rolled your hips around once – in a perfect, mesmerizing circle, as you sat on top of Fred. You let your panties just catch against his belt buckle as you moved your hips.

Fred jolted slightly and his mouth fell open. “Uhn,” he moaned back, shaking his head out of want for you. “Gods, you look so good right now. I bet you’re wet, bet you’re all fucking wet for me.”

You nodded, confirming that you were.

Fred breathed out harshly. “Let me see your pussy.”

You palmed his cock harder, but you also shook your head.

“Uh!” Fred let out a short, tight whimper, before he blurted out, “D-Don’t shake your head at me. Just – Just lemme see your pussy, baby. Please…”

“No, it’s your turn to show me,” you whispered alluringly, pushing your hand greedily against his cock now. “Fred, sweetheart, get hard for me again. Want your cock in me. Want your cock all inside of my tight little pussy. You can get hard for me again, can’t you?”

Fred moaned, and then his moan curved into a hard, needy whine. That was when you let your hand just slip off of Fred and onto his pocket, and – there it is! You took your hand off of his cock and plunged it into his pocket. You quickly pulled out a few sweets, all of which you pocketed.

“Where is it?” you growled, entirely breaking out of your sweet, dreamy voice. “Where?”

“Oi!” Fred shouted.

You chucked away a handkerchief, a Chocolate Frog card, and a tiny coin featured some Quidditch Beater on it. Then – “Aha!” Finally, you pulled out a small tin circle. It was labelled, “Anti-Bruise Ointment.”

“Got it,” you sang, holding it up so that it glimmered in the lamplight.

“You thief!” Fred cried out. “Give that back!”

You smirked. “Thought you’d have this on you.” Then, leaning forward, you shoved your breasts against Fred’s face as you reached over and dragged Fred’s chair over. You brought the chair over until it was just beside Fred’s head. Reaching down, you quickly stretched out a bit of the rope around Fred’s shoulders and tied it around one of the chair legs, effectively pinning Fred to the ground.

Fred protested, “What d’you think you’re doing? You think you’re going to get away with this? Oi! Stop ignoring me!”

You reached into your pocket and pulled out one of the sweets – a Chocolate Frog. You ripped open the package and then pushed the Frog gently but firmly into Fred’s mouth.

“Mmpfh!” Fred let out a muffled cry.

“You like them, don’t you?” you said innocently.

Fred let out some garbled words, one of which sounded like a muffled version of “demon.”

“Oh, it’s a bit too much chocolate for your cute mouth, isn’t it?” you murmured. “I forgot about your little puppy mouth, Fred. My bad.” You leaned over, and putting both of your hands down solidly on Fred’s chest, you gave Fred a kiss before you gently bit off half of the frog into your own mouth.

Then, you reached down and, with your forefinger, gently pushed the rest of the Frog into Fred’s mouth. You instructed, “Chew.”

Fred tried to talk back, but he couldn’t with the chocolate in his mouth. It was beginning to melt in his mouth, and he figured that the fastest way he could get to insulting you was to just eat the damn Frog. He finally started to chew the chocolate.

You smiled. “Very good.” Meanwhile, you started chewing on your half of the Chocolate Frog.

“Mm,” you let out a sigh of content as you enjoyed the Chocolate Frog. You were still sitting on top of Fred, and, as you took your time eating the chocolate, you reached down and gently tucked away your skirt, strip by strip, into the waistband. You stared down at Fred all the while, saying with your eyes, Remember this? Remember how I didn’t let you have me, didn’t let you even touch me? And now you know that I still have that power. Silly Freddie.

Then, right after you swallowed the chocolate, you reached down and pushed your fingers against your panties, right over your pussy. “Mm, so sweet,” you whispered, while staring down at Fred through half-lidded eyes. The innuendo was clear enough, and Fred whimpered.

“Gods, I’m so wet,” you breathed out. “I want a thick, hard cock to sit on. I need to be filled.”

Fred blinked feverishly. His cock was throbbing so hard right now, and he couldn’t believe that you were doing this to him.

“I keep thinking about how well you fill me up, Fred,” you whispered. “To tell you the truth, I dream all the time about you cumming in me. And I wake up all wet, and I’m moaning your name before I’m even properly awake. Did you know that, Fred?”

Fred’s mouth fell open slightly, and the bell around his neck let out a light tinkling sound.

You giggled. Reaching down, you put your hand on his face, slotting your palm under his chin and squeezing his cheeks and jaw slightly, you whispered, “If you’re done chewing, now swallow.”

Fred stared up at you with wide eyes. He couldn’t quite believe the situation you had him in, but he also couldn’t quite believe what you were telling him – about how you might dream about him, about how his name was the first thing that spilled from your lips every morning.

Your eyes glittered, and you squeezed Fred’s sides with your thighs, as you repeated softly, “Swallow.”

Fred swallowed.

“Good,” you cooed softly. “You’re so good, Fred.” You leaned down and kissed him. As you pulled away, you noted, with a charming and pleased smile, “Mm, I can see why you like Chocolate Frogs so much.”

Fred was breathing quick hard. He seemed to have entirely forgotten about the telescope as he whispered, in quite hurried tones, “You really dream – about me?”

You laughed lightly. “Oh, poor puppy… Don’t believe everything you hear.”

Fred blinked – and then he scowled. “You lied?”

Patting his chest consolingly, you whispered, “Well, I do dream about you. But mostly I’m spanking you and you’re all pink – kind-of like right now – and I’m having loads of fun teasing you. But see, I don’t need to dream about that anymore, because I’m nearly living it, aren’t I? I mean, take right now, for instance. I could go one step further and make you cry right now, Fred. It’d be so easy. I’d make myself cum right in front of you – and then not let you taste me. How’s that?”

Fred groaned, both at his frustration that you’d tricked him once again and at his frustration that you were putting that irresistible image of yourself into his head.

You let out a false sigh. “Looks like it’s best for your stupid little heart if I leave you alone. Yes, I’ll let you live. This time.” With that, you got up from the floor.

As your steady warmth suddenly disappeared, Fred blinked awake. He became rather abruptly and rudely aware of his unfavorable situation. “Wait!” he blurted out. “You’re not really gonna leave me like this?”

You fluffed your skirt back out neatly and then went to collect your magazine and papers.

Hearing the shuffling of papers, Fred realized that you really might leave him all tied up like this. “Oi, you come back here! This is – This is kidnapping!”

You replied in a bored voice, “Is it? You’re in your own room, though.”

“I’m not going to let you get away with this!”

You walked back over to Fred and then yawned in front of him, politely putting your hand before your mouth.

“When you wake up a bald toad tomorrow, you just remember what you did today – Ah!” Fred suddenly cut off, as you had put your foot on Fred’s cock and began to rub him through his pants again.

“A-Ah!” Fred bleated out pitifully.

You pretended to be surprised. “Oh, were you still thrashing about down there? Oops, I didn’t mean to step on you.” As you emphasized the word ‘step,’ you pushed you foot down against his cock even harder.

“Hah… Ah!” Fred panted, and he blinked hard up at you.

Finally looking down at Fred, you smiled at him. “Lost for words, I see. You know, I think you like being tied up. I’ve never felt you quite this hard.” You pushed your foot against his cock again.

Fred gasped. “D-Don’t! I’m s-sensitive!”

You grinned. “Oh, I know.” You took your foot away. “Well, good luck getting out of your ropes in time. But not to worry, you’ve got a – uh – nice tent here to camp under.” You laughed sweetly. “Bye, bye, Fred.”

Leaving Fred’s room, you kicked the door wide open, and you triumphantly skipped down the staircase of the boys’ dormitory.

When you got to the common room, you stopped in the middle of the room. You counted to ten. That should be enough time for Fred – but only just. You cupped your hands around your mouth, and announced brightly, “Hey! Rumor has it there’s a member of the Weird Sisters in the boys’ dormitory right now! Special guest of Dumbledore!”

A murmur ran through the crowd, and many of the female students jumped to their feet, for the Weird Sisters were one of the most famous wizarding bands in the world, and despite their name, all eight members were male.

“Apparently, he’s going around topless and open to giving autogr – Whoa!” You were properly spun around by the sheer force of the stampede of students racing up the stairs to the boys’ dormitory.

Laughing merrily, you left the common room, sure that Fred would get himself out, but hoping that he’d hear the stampede of people charging up the stairs just before he succeeded.

* * * * * * * * * *

That evening, Fred came to your room to let his grievances be known.

“I would have given the ointment to you eventually, you impatient ass!”

“That rumor about the Weird Sisters? What are you, crazy? Someone could’ve really seen me, you maniac!”

“Don’t you know how to have a civil conversation? Huh? Or does your puny, primitive brain only ever work in battle mode because you’re a stupid, musty, bitter, old crocodile!?”

“I’m not a puppy! And stop – stop messing with my head by making me all crazy for you and luring me into your stupid traps!”

“Just to be clear, I didn’t enjoy the ropes! Why would I enjoy being tied up by a loon with pink ropes? I was only hard because – because you looked so damn pretty sitting on top of me like that – Aargh, that’s not the point!”

“You don’t get to mark up my chest for another week, you crazy hellcat! There, that’s your punishment!”

And he ended with his extremely eloquent insult of, “You’re a – You’re a downright hag!”

You paused. “That’s a new one.”

Fred retorted furiously, “I can come up with plenty others right now!”

You smiled at this. “I’m sure you could. Oh, and by the way, Fred, it’s my move.”

Fred paused. “What?”

“I helped McGonagall catch you, remember? And that - ” You pulled out the tic-tac-toe board and decidedly drew an ‘O’ on it. – “Makes it my move.”

Fred stared at you angrily for a second. Then, he flopped over on your bed in defeat. “You’re such a… a witch,” he mumbled in a muffled voice, burying his face against your pillows. “Always tricking me, always getting your stupid way…”

You reminded him, “It’s like I said, Fred, you might win the battle, but I will win the war.”

Fred turned his face just enough to look at you with one eye. “You, my mistress?”

Knowing what he wanted to hear, you softened. Smiling, you slid into bed beside him and hugged him as you confirmed, “No, Fred. Me, your girlfriend.”

Fred was still for a minute. But then, he wrapped your arms around you and brought you in to kiss the top of your head.

You smiled and leaned into him. “And Fred?”

“What?”

“All that stuff I said about dreaming about you…”

“Your stupid lies,” Fred sighed knowingly. “Can’t believe I fell for them.”

“No, no,” you said honestly. “They weren’t lies. I did say those things in the moment to confuse you, but they’re all true.”

“Stop it,” Fred groaned, even as his arm tightened around you. “You have the ointment, you’ve made me a mess – haven’t you created enough chaos for one day?”

“But it’s true,” you insisted.

“Shush, you,” Fred insisted right back.

“Well, fine,” you said, shrugging. “But I meant what I said.”

“Okay, well, which dreams are true?” Fred questioned. “The ones where you spank me? Or the ones where I’m cumming in you?”

“All. And then there’s a third kind-of dream. It’s my favorite dream, to be honest. It makes me feel all warm for the entire day when I have it.”

“And what are those dreams about?” Fred asked you skeptically, waiting for the punchline. “Better not be about feeding me to a crocodile.”

You smiled, amused. “That’s a good one, Fred. But no…” You gazed up at him steadily as you confessed, “You’re setting off a bunch of fireworks, and they’re all glittery pink hearts and they’re so brilliant and bright, exploding all over the sky. There’s a crowd of people clapping. I’m not among them, but I’m watching you, too. I’m so happy. I’m happier than I ever thought I could be. And so are you.”

Fred stared back at you, suddenly completely disarmed. What… What’s that supposed to mean? What is she saying to me?

You laughed softly at his bewildered face. But it wasn’t a condescending laugh at all – it was a laugh that plainly showed how much you loved Fred. You reached up and gently pushed Fred’s hair away from his face. Then, you lay down against Fred’s chest and melted into him, even more in love with him than you’d ever been.

Knowing that Fred was feeling secure again, you teased him gently, “And sure, you’ve got a little ribbon on, and a cute little bell going ring, ring ring, but what’s a little bell to the ego when you’re the grandmaster of pyrotechnics?” Your voice fell into a soft, lulling tone as you went on.

Fred wondered, “What in the world are you babbling about now?”

You fell silent, with a soft smile on your lips. A life together, you thought. That’s what I dream about most often, Fred.

#harry potter imagine #harry potter smut #fanfic #fanfiction #fred weasley #fred weasley smut #fred weasley x reader #joke's on you

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albertfinch · 1 year

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ADVANCING FORWARD

"Therefore I, the prisoner of the Lord, implore you to walk in a manner worthy of the calling with which you have been called," - Ephesians 4:1

"For if, after they have escaped the pollutions of the world through the knowledge of the Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, they are again entangled in them and overcome, the latter end is worse for them than the beginning" - 2 Peter 2:20

Scripture instructs us to come to understand and carry out our Christ calling, bearing fruit that remains for His Kingdom. . It exhorts us not to turn back to our old life or the rudimentary ways of this world.

In the last days, people will have itching ears to hear what they want and not endure sound doctrine. Instead, they will seek out teachers to tell them what they want to hear. God cares about your comfort, but not at the expense of your destiny. He will offend your flesh, put you in a wilderness experience, crucify your self-life and put you in a trial, all to perfect you and make you more like Him. Unfortunately, too many people in the Church have decided that they would rather be comfortable back in Egypt than to become an army called to possess the Promised Land.

CONVENIENCE, COMFORTABILITY, ENTERTAINMENT

Convenience has replaced commitment.

Comfortability has replaced being conformed to the image of Christ.

Entertainment has replaced worship and sacrifice.

Tolerance—being non-offensive and all-encompassing—has replaced preaching the truth with conviction and repentance.

Let's not bow down to the idol of convenience or go back to Egypt and captivity only to face God's judgment.

COMPROMISE TO THE CURRENT CULTURE

Some have bowed down, becoming more like the world, in the name of being relevant. How could it happen that people would use grace as an excuse to sin or live like the world? Paul has said that God forbid that would happen.

We are warned of false teaching and false teachers.

The law of grace is not a lower standard but a higher one in God. It not only deals with your actions but your heart motivation as well

God's warnings are clear: Don't compromise with the world. Don't become a friend of the world and trade-off your faith, your godly standards and your relationship with God. Don’t trade your birthright for a bowl of stew (Genesis 25:29-34).Let's not bow down to the golden calf of compromise!

COMPLACENCY AND THE CARES OF THIS LIFE

If the enemy can't stop us, then he'll just distract us with frivolous hobbies and pastimes.

He'll get us so caught up in the mundane day-to-day that we stop dreaming and discovering.

He'll try to cause the hard things to harden our hearts and dominate our passion.

He'll try and turn our eyes to escapism and entertainment or deaden our dreams with the drudgery of everyday pressure to just survive.

Dead religion and ritual will want to supplant a passionate pursuing of God's purpose for our lives. This can become a golden calf that diverts or depresses our energy for Heaven's purpose for our life.

RECOMMIT AND GET ON TRACK

If you're hurt— seek help. Seek God and let Him heal your heart. It's time to get over it and get on with it.

If you're hard—humble yourself. Let grace flow and soften your heart. Seek God

If you don’t’ know God’s purpose for your life – ask, knock, and seek until the Holy Spirit gives you a revelation of your Christ calling.

If you're distracted—focus, commit and get your life back on track with God.

If you're compromising—read the Word with an open mind. Repent of your sin by conforming to the heavenly example. Allow the Holy Spirit to speak to you, convict you and help you change.

If you're facing something impossible—rise up in faith. Lift up the sword of the Spirit (the Word of God). Fight, shout your doubts out and cast the enemy out.

If you feel hopeless—allow God to re-ignite His vision in your life. Remember your hope is in God.

If you feel powerless—choose to use your weapons and your authority in Christ. Remember God's got your back!

ALBERT FINCH MINISTRY

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alisaint · 2 months

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The population of Santiago de Cuba protests shouting "electricity" and "food"

Havana / Thousands of Santiago residents took to the streets this Sunday afternoon shouting "electricity and food", "freedom", "homeland and life" and "we are hungry" after several days of long blackouts and delays of weeks in the distribution of food from the basic basket. The agglomeration was concentrated on Carretera del Morro, close to several popular and humble neighborhoods such as Vista Hermosa, Van Van, Dessy and Altamira. After the first images of the crowded demonstration appeared on social media after noon, the Cuban regime chose, as has been customary in these cases since July 11, 2021, to restrict communications and cut the internet signal on cell phones in the island. The independent journalist Yosmany Mayeta Labrada, born in Santiago de Cuba and resident in the United States, shared several images that the followers of his Facebook page sent from the city, and that show a strong police operation that includes uniformed officers guarding part of the protest and several patrols at the scene. The secretary of the province's Communist Party, Beatriz Johnson Urrutia, recently appointed to the position, arrived at the site. In a video that Mayeta published, the woman is seen along with other people on the roof of a house trying to talk to the crowd, but those gathered there do not allow her to speak. Dozens of people, mainly women, insult the PCC leader and other officials, and protest against the military presence used in these cases to repress the people. In the images you can see a truck loaded with soldiers, also shouted down by the crowd. Then they chant “homeland and life (patria y vida)” and, finally, while applauding, “freedom.”

In the same video, a soldier from the Ministry of the Armed Forces with the rank of lieutenant colonel appears among the protesters and other materials show dozens of police officers in the place but at the moment there are no reports that the security forces have intervened in the protest. In other material, which apparently records the moment when Johnson arrived at the site, people shout “no queremos muela,” in reference to the fact that they did not want to listen to the excuses that the regime always gives to the people to justify its bad administration. Residents of Santiago de Cuba told this newspaper that this Saturday, March 16, in some areas of the city "they began to distribute in the warehouses only three pounds of rice" out of the seven they receive each month, in addition to the coffee that corresponded to January. “Everything is expensive, hunger has us suffocated, and add to this the blackouts, which don't even let you cool some water or preserve the little food you get,” said a resident of the town of El Caney. In another of the videos that circulates on networks, you can mainly see women of various ages, mothers with their children in their arms and young people in the street shouting “electricity and food” while uniformed men and men in civilian clothes try to make them quiet but the protesters shout louder their claims. Likewise, another resident of the place shouts "down with communism", "down with Díaz-Canel" and shortly after several women are shown applauding and shouting "electricity and food."

In the city of Bayamo, in the province of Granma, there were also demonstrations this Sunday. Videos circulating on social networks show a crowd in the streets, some people walking and others moving on bicycles, tricycles and electric motorcycles. Also some photographs published by the independent press indicate the presence of police and trucks loaded with soldiers ready to repress. On the other hand, after 7 pm, a report arrived at the 14ymedio editorial office stating that, in Holguín, where several protests have been registered in recent days , some of the main parks such as Calixto García, Las Flores and José Martí have been militarized. “There are dozens of motorcycle officers, plainclothes agents, and patrol cars, as well as cars loaded with avispas negras (black wasps, special forces) ,” describes a city resident. “They expect something or fear repercussions in Holguín from the Santiago demonstrations,” he adds. “It seems that it was an urgent 'shock' to the provincial authorities, a large part of the center is militarized and with many civilian security personnel,” says the same source, who assures that due to surveillance, photos cannot be taken. In other provinces such as Sancti Spíritus you cannot make calls nor does mobile data work.

Article was translated from its original language (Spanish) using Google Translate. Be sure to click the link for videos and more.

#cuba #pol #long post

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frmartinshomiliesandreflections · 8 months

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20th September >> Fr. Martin's Gospel Reflections / Homilies on Luke 7:31-35 for Wednesday, Twenty Fourth Week in Ordinary Time: ‘We played the pipes for you, and you wouldn’t dance’.

Wednesday, Twenty Fourth Week in Ordinary Time

Gospel (Except USA) Luke 7:31-35 'We played the pipes, and you wouldn't dance'.

Jesus said to the people: ‘What description can I find for the men of this generation? What are they like? They are like children shouting to one another while they sit in the market-place:

‘“We played the pipes for you, and you wouldn’t dance; we sang dirges, and you wouldn’t cry.”

‘For John the Baptist comes, not eating bread, not drinking wine, and you say, “He is possessed.” The Son of Man comes, eating and drinking, and you say, “Look, a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners.” Yet Wisdom has been proved right by all her children.’

Gospel (USA) Luke 7:31-35 We played the flute for you, but you did not dance. We sang a dirge, but you did not weep.

Jesus said to the crowds: “To what shall I compare the people of this generation? What are they like? They are like children who sit in the marketplace and call to one another,

‘We played the flute for you, but you did not dance. We sang a dirge, but you did not weep.’

For John the Baptist came neither eating food nor drinking wine, and you said, ‘He is possessed by a demon.’ The Son of Man came eating and drinking and you said, ‘Look, he is a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners.’ But wisdom is vindicated by all her children.”

Reflections (4)

(i) Wednesday, Twenty Fourth Week in Ordinary Time

Jesus seems to have been a keen observer of human interaction, including that of children. In the gospel reading, he gives us an image of children in the market square talking and behaving as children. They are playing children’s games, imagining themselves to be playing the pipes at a celebration of some kind, like a wedding, and to be singing dirges, as at a funeral. Yet, some of children’s friends simply don’t want to play either wedding or funeral games; they refused to be moved either by the imaginary playing of pipes or the singing of dirges. When Jesus saw this, he was reminded of how the people of his generation refused to be moved either by the somewhat sombre ministry of John the Baptist or his own much more joyful ministry. They labelled John as ‘possessed’ and Jesus as a ‘glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners’. Many of Jesus’ contemporaries took offence at both John the Baptist and Jesus and resented their ministries. It is interesting that Jesus identifies his ministry with the children pretending to play the pipes. We don’t often think of Jesus as a piper calling on people to dance to his tune. Perhaps we could image the Holy Spirit, the Spirit of the risen Jesus, playing a tune deep within us, calling out to us to move in harmony with that tune, to live lives that give expression to the tune the Spirit is playing deep in our hearts. That tune of the Spirit is a love song, the song of God’s deep love for us, revealed in the life, death and resurrection of Jesus. Our lives are to reflect that love song of the Spirit being played deep within us.

And/Or

(ii) Wednesday, Twenty Fourth Week in Ordinary Time

The gospels suggest that Jesus was very observant of day to day life around him. His powers of observation come through especially in the parables he spoke. The image of the sower sowing seed, of the wealthy man with two very different sons, of the traveller who fell among robbers, are all draw from his own experience of day to day life. Jesus was not only observant of life, but he recognized that all of life speaks to us of God’s relationship with us and of ours with God. This morning’s gospel reading suggests that Jesus was very observant of children, and of children’s play in particular. Even the play of children in the market place spoke to Jesus about how people respond to God’s call and presence. Jesus saw the children who play at being pipers for other children to dance and who play at singing dirges for other children to cry as images of his own ministry and of the ministry of John the Baptist. Jesus identifies readily with the children’s acting out of the role of the piper who invites people to dance. It is interesting to think of Jesus as a piper and of his ministry as a tune, and of ourselves as invited to dance to the tune that Jesus plays. Jesus’ life plays the music of God and we are invited to move to that music. Jesus is God’s musician, and our calling is to listen to God’s music that is played through the life, death and resurrection of Jesus, and to allow that music to move and shape us.

And/Or

(iii) Wednesday, Twenty Fourth Week in Ordinary Time

Jesus uses a very striking image in that gospel reading to describe the reaction of the people of his generation to his ministry and that of John the Baptist. They are like children who refuse to dance when other children in the playground play the pipes; they are also like children refuse to cry when other children in the playground sing dirges. Jesus identifies himself with the children who play the pipes and John with the children who sing dirges. It is striking that Jesus speaks of himself in terms of children who play pipes for other children to dance. It is interesting to think of Jesus as a piper who plays a tune that invites people to dance to it. In a sense, that is what we are about as followers of Jesus. We are people who dance to Jesus’ tune. We often use that phrase of dancing to someone’s tune in our day to day conversation. The gospel reading suggests that as followers of Jesus we are people who try to attune ourselves to his rhythm, to his music, and then, having done so, to try and move in time with his music. In other words we are to allow the music that Jesus plays by his life, death and resurrection, the song that he sings, to shape our lives. That particular image suggests that attentive and ongoing listening is very important in our relationship with the Lord, because we can only move to music that we listen attentively to, and that, in some sense, has become part of us. Mary was an attentive listener to the Lord’s word, and she, more than anyone, is the person whose life is in tune with the song, with the music, of Jesus. Her own song, the Magnificat, is very much in keeping with the song of Jesus, the message and the life of Jesus. She is our model and our inspiration as we try to live in tune with Jesus’ song.

And/Or

(iv) Wednesday, Twenty Fourth Week in Ordinary Time

The gospels suggest that Jesus had a wonderful relationship with children. He welcomed them when his own disciples were trying to keep them away from him. He pointed to them as the disciples’ teachers because of their openness to God’s presence. He identified with them completely, declaring that, in receiving such children, people are receiving him. This morning’s gospel reading suggests that Jesus was very observant of children’s play in the market place. The refusal of some children to join in the other children’s games reminded him of the refusal of his contemporaries to take seriously either himself or John the Baptist. If the children’s funeral games reminded Jesus of the ministry of John, their dancing games reminded him of his own ministry. It is interesting to think of Jesus as a piper who plays a tune for us to dance to. Jesus is the music of God. To follow him is to allow his music, the music of God, to enter deep into our hearts, souls and minds so that our whole lives move to its rhythm. The music played by the life, death and resurrection of Jesus is not a dirge that evokes tears. It is joyous music because it proclaims the favour of God towards all. It calls forth joyful dancing, the dance of the Spirit. As followers of the Lord, we carry a joyful song in our heart, even in dark times, because we appreciate how greatly we have been graced. Our calling is to allow something of the music of God that Jesus plays to move our lives and to touch the lives of all whom we meet.

Fr. Martin Hogan.

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fr-martin-gospel-reflections · 9 months

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20th August - ‘Woman, you have great faith’, Reflection on today’s gospel reading (Mt 15:21-28)

Twentieth Sunday in Ordinary Time

There is no stronger bond than that between a parent and her child, especially a mother and her child. If the child is happy, the mother will be happy. If the child suffers, the mother suffers. That material bond is very powerfully expressed in today’s gospel reading. The mother is described as a ‘Canaanite’, which implies that she was pagan rather than Jewish. Jesus is in the region of Tyre and Sidon, where pagans lived in greater numbers than Jews. This mother’s daughter was seriously ill. When she approaches Jesus, she does not say, ‘take pity on my daughter’ or ‘help my daughter’, but ‘take pity on me’, ‘help me’. She identified so fully with her daughter that her prayer for her daughter became a prayer for herself.

This mother’s prayer is simple yet powerful, ‘take pity on me… help me’. It is a prayer out of the depths. We have probably all prayed a version of this prayer when life was a struggle and we felt at our wits end. At such times we sense our own vulnerability, our need to reach out beyond ourselves to the Lord. In the Book of Psalms in the Bible, the most frequent prayer by far is the prayer of petition, the prayer out of the depths of distress. Jesus has assured us that he will always answer this kind of prayer, ‘Ask and you will receive, seek and you will find’. He may not answer our prayer of petition in the way that we had hoped, but he will answer it in some way. Whenever we make this kind of prayer to the Lord, we are opening ourselves up to his helping presence, and we can discover that the Lord strengthens us in our weakness.

However, this woman’s prayer to Jesus initially met with silence, ‘he answered her not a word’. The silence of Jesus didn’t discourage her. She kept on pleading with Jesus. As Jesus’ disciples said to him, ‘she is shouting after us’. Eventually, Jesus broke his silence, but what he said to the woman wasn’t very encouraging, ‘I was sent only to the lost sheep of the House of Israel’. At this point in his ministry, Jesus’ focus was to preach the gospel in word and deed to his own people. Later on, after his death and resurrection, Jesus would send out his disciples to preach the gospel to all nations. Jesus was now in this predominantly pagan area not to work but to find some space and rest. The woman’s request didn’t fit with Jesus’ timetable. However, this desperate mother wasn’t going to be put off so easily. The gospel reading says that she now knelt at Jesus’ feet and cried out, ‘Lord, help me’. If someone is kneeling at your feet, it is hard to ignore them. Jesus’ response to this mother’s second desperate cry again doesn’t seem very encouraging, ‘It is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the house dogs’. Jesus is using an image here, a little parable. He was saying to her that in a household the children have to be fed before the house pets. Similarly, his priority for now is the people of Israel, the children of God. However, this determined mother takes Jesus’ image and turns it to her advantage, ‘Even house-dogs can eat the scraps that fall from their master’s table’. Children tend to have untidy eating habits. As they eat, crumbs fall from the table onto the ground and the pet dogs eat the crumbs. Children and house-dogs feed together. The woman was saying to Jesus, ‘Why can’t the people of Israel and the pagans feed together?’ ‘Why not proclaim the gospel in word and deed to both at the same time?’ Jesus could no longer resist this humble, determined, woman of faith, and granted her request for the healing of her daughter. In the process, Jesus says to her, ‘Woman, you have great faith’. This is the only time in the four gospels where Jesus says to someone, ‘You have great faith’. In this gospel of Matthew, Jesus regularly addresses his disciples as people of little faith. Here was an outsider, a pagan woman, who displays great faith, the kind of faith that moves mountains, and certainly moved Jesus.

It is often the case that great faith is not to be found among those where you might expect to find it but instead is to be found among those where you might least expect to find it. Those from outside our usual circle of faith can have much to teach us about true faith in God. Like Jesus in the gospel reading, we need to be always open to the ways that God is being revealed in and through those who are very different from us. Jesus came to realize that God was speaking to him through this pagan woman. The timetable he had set himself would have to give way to her persistent faith and her passionate love for her daughter. We can learn from the faith of the outsider. We certainly have much to learn from this pagan woman. She teaches us not to lose heart even in those moments when the Lord seems to be silent and distant before our desperate prayers for help.

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cyberbenb · 11 months

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NEWSFLASH: Western Ukraine’s Lviv hit with worst strike yet

NEWSFLASH breaking news alerts are generally only for our paid subscribers. But this one, being Will’s first newsflash edition, we’ve decided to make free. Help support our ongoing work in Ukraine with a paid subscription!

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"I've formed a very healthy respect for air raid sirens -- and Kalibr cruise missiles."

Overnight Lviv suffered the largest attack on civilian infrastructure since Russia invaded last year. An apartment complex near Stryiskyi Park was struck by a Kalibr missile, killing at least five in their homes and injuring around 50 others.

Emergency crews continue to work to see if there are additional dead and wounded beneath the wreckage.

The attack damaged or destroyed some 30 residential buildings, an orphanage, two universities and a regional military administration building, said Anton Gerashchenko, an advisor to the Ukrainian Ministry of Internal Affairs.

Anna, 76, an injured resident of a four-story building hit by a missile on July 6, 2023 in Lviv, Ukraine. The missile destroyed part of the upper floors. (Photo by Stanislav Ivanov/Global Images Ukraine via Getty Images)

And it could have been far worse — seven out of the ten missiles launched at Lviv were successfully intercepted, according to Ukraine's Air Force.

A screenshot from my phone last night depicts almost the entire country under an air-raid warning.

Last night was also when Ross and I decided to drive back from Kyiv to Lviv to put some distance between us and any possible danger arising from the Zaporizhzhia Nuclear Power Plant (more to come on that later this weekend).

With fear about a nuclear disaster reaching heights not seen since the beginning of the war, our team thought it would be safer to be in western Ukraine for a few days, in case something happened.

We arrived late, so I was still up when the first missile struck at 2:30 am, hitting roughly two kilometers away.

Updates from the Lviv emergency channel about the raid.

The windows shook violently and I felt the vibrations in my chest.

I Facetimed my fiancé (shout out to Sophie for being amazing) as soon as the first strike hit. While I sat in the relative safety of my bathroom, we talked about things other than Ukraine while explosions reverberated outside.

She was able to listen to the strikes on her end with a displeased and worried look.

After three weeks here it was the first time an attack rattled me.

I spent the next few hours with several walls between myself and outside, scrolling through Telegram channels looking for updates, and waiting for the all-clear.

Somehow, it was easy to fall asleep after the all-clear was given at around 3:30 a.m.

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When I woke up, I started off in the direction of the attacks.

I did not know exactly where the missiles hit, but the stream of ambulances flowing from one section of the city was, unfortunately, easy enough to follow.

The growing sound of broken glass being swept up by hundreds of residents soon became louder as I approached the area around Stryiskyi Park.

Shattered windows were the first visual clue that something had happened nearby. Then the trees, forcibly stripped of their leaves and branches, appeared. There is something incredibly unnerving about a carpet of green leaves on the ground at the height of summer.

Leaves, wrenched from their perch, litter the ground in Stryisky Park.

Cleanup crews had already been at work for hours removing the debris from the roads, and emergency services were sifting through the rubble of the apartment complex when I walked up.

The jumbled sign in the bottom left used to read, 'Love & Lviv.'

I was only able to approach from one side due to the scene being cordoned off by a growing number of emergency crews. From the street, I could see that the attack collapsed the roof, and blew out every window in the adjacent building.

A crane assists emergency response workers.

The strikes in Lviv are shocking because they killed people in a city generally considered safe. Hundreds of miles from the frontlines, western Ukraine is seen as a haven for the internally displaced, as well as humanitarian workers entering and exiting the country.

The blasts are a reminder of how the war has touched almost every corner of this country — and how many Ukrainians live in constant fear that they’ll be affected by the next attacks.

Broken glass on the sidewalk several blocks from where a missile struck.

0 notes

battinscn · 2 years

Text

FALLIN ALL IN YOU — dad! draco malfoy x pregnant! f! reader

CONTENT WARNING: pregnancy anxieties/ body image self consciousness/ throwing up/ birthing process

SUMMARY: the pregnancy process of you carrying draco’s baby.

WC/ AVG. READING TIME: 5266 words/ 26 minutes

return to the draco masterlist here

I WAS GETTING ready for work and looking at myself through the reflection when i realised the dress i was wearing didn't look like how it used to fit on me. they were now tighter around the waist. i lifted the dress up and rubbed my belly.

"do you think i'm fat?" i frowned asking my husband who was sitting on the bed behind me putting on his dress shoes.

draco immediately snapped his head to look at me, a confused look on his face.

"i dont know, i feel like i've gained weight...i feel like an elephant," i pouted staring at my feet.

"hey, look at me," draco lifted my chin, "you are perfect just...the...way...you...are," he pecked my lips after every word.

"yea maybe it's just water weight," i mumbled, still not feeling too confident with my body.

draco turned our bodies so that we were now both facing the mirror.

"have you seen my wife anywhere?" draco asked, tilting his head, looking at me through my reflection.

"what'd you mean?"

"because, she's always smiling....like this," draco immediately started tickling my sides, causing me to squirm and giggle under his touch.

"there she is...my beautiful y/n," draco hugged me from behind and kissing the top of my head.

"as much as i would love to stay here with you all day, we best be off to work," i pulled my dress down and brushed my hair.

"you ready?" draco asked holding his wand in his hands.

"mhmm," i hummed, putting my wand in the waistband of my undershorts.

i grabbed a handful of floo powder from the bag on the mantle and stepped into the fireplace in our bedroom.

"ministry of magic headquarters," i enunciated clearly as i threw the powder on the floor.

i soon emerged into the atrium of the ministry of magic building, draco following right behind me.

we walked hand in hand to the service lifts, getting into one.

the lift started descending, stopping at level 5, the department of international magical cooperation.

"well, this is my stop," draco let go of my hand.

"see you at home dray," i smiled at the man.

"bye baby," draco kissed my cheek, making his way out the lift.

the lift descended further to the first level, and i stepped out of the lift. i walked down the halls, passing by my colleagues and waving to them as i did.

i got to the door that stated 'senior undersecretary of minister of magic', opening it and walking into my office.

once settling myself into my office, i knocked on the door to the room that was connected to my office. turning the doorknob, i stepped into the room.

"good morning minister," i greeted.

"oh y/n, no need for the silly formalities, it's only us in the office today," hermione chuckled, sitting by her desk reading the daily prophet.

"how was your weekend?" i asked.

"it was alright, except ron nearly set the bloody house on fire while trying to bake some biscuits. how was yours?"

"classic weasley move. my weekend was normal, nothing special really. i'll go prepare the paperwork for the board meeting this afternoon, if you need anything just give me a shout as always."

"okay thank you y/n," hermione thanked as i walked out of her office into mine.

i worked on the paperwork for what felt like hours and was finally finished. i looked at the clock and saw that it was almost lunchtime, yet i wasn't feeling hungry at all.

moreover, i felt rather nauseous. i tried to lessen the growing urge to vomit by sipping on some hot tea, but the urge was too overbearing.

i quickly grabbed the bin on the floor and hovered my face over it, throwing up the remnants of yesterday's dinner.

i should've known never to trust draco's horrid cooking.

"merlin y/n are you alright?" hermione who was coincidentally leaving her office asked worriedly.

"um yea i'm fi-" before i could finish my sentence i puked once more.

"y/n my dear you are definitely not fine, maybe you should take the rest of the day off," hermione held my hair up as i hugged the bin.

"i'm fine really," i assured the redhead.

"what a load of bullshit. go home y/n alright? you're done with the paperwork anyway," hermione stood up, collecting my things for me.

"fine fine i'll go home and rest. thank you mione," i wiped my mouth with a tissue.

"i'll have one of the secretaries let draco know you've gone home," hermione held onto my arm guiding me to the door.

"i have to rush off to the meeting now, can you manage on your own?"

"yes, thank you mione."

"of course dear."

i waved goodbye to hermione and floo powdered back to draco and i's london flat.

reaching home, i kicked my shoes off my feet and quickly brushed my teeth to get rid of the awful bile taste in my mouth. i took a nice warm bath before putting on my comfiest pair of pyjamas and snuggling up in bed.

"hey baby, are you alright?" i slowly stirred awake to draco's soft voice filling my ears, and feeling is cold hands stroke my cheek.

"mhmm i feel better now," i let out a yawn.

"here take some of this," draco put a blue potion up to my lips, "it'll help with your stomach flu."

i tilted my head back to down the potion, scrunching my face in disgust at the flavour of it.

"do you want to eat anything? it's a quarter past seven."

i had slept through the afternoon, yet i still felt as tired as before.

i shook my head, "just. need. sleep." i closed my eyes again, burying my head into the pillow.

"alright my princess, get some rest," draco pulled the comforter over my shoulders and kissed my forehead.

as i was deep in sleep, the sudden feeling of needing to vomit caused me to jolt awake.

i jumped out of bed and ran to the toilet, throwing up water and the potion i had drank yesterday. after a few minutes, and i was certain i did not need to puke anymore, i stood myself up, supporting myself by leaning against the sink.

i splashed my face with water and dried it. i peered at the small digital clock and saw that it was six in the morning. i definitely would not be able to attend work today.

i brushed my teeth and tied my hair up.

walking back into the bedroom, i saw a soundly sleeping draco, little snores leaving his nose. it was an absolutely adorable sight.

i walked out of the room and into the study. getting out parchment and writing to hermione, informing her i was still under the stomach bug and wouldn't be at the ministry today.

after sending our owl, herbert, off, i walked into the kitchen to make myself some food, considering i haven't eaten for the past 36 hours.

i made myself and draco a cheese toastie and some tea to start the day.

sitting on the kitchen barstool, i started eating my breakfast. from the corner of my eye, i saw a bunch of bananas that were starting to become overripe.

not wanting them to go bad, i peeled open a banana. with a piece of cheese toastie still in my mouth, i took a bite out of the banana.

the sweet taste of the fruit and the saltiness of the cheese went perfectly together. it was a rather pleasant taste.

"good morningl" draco groggily walked into the kitchen in his sleepwear, taking a seat next to me.

"good morning you bum, i made breakfast," i gestured to the plate in front of him.

"thank you baby, are you feeling better now?" draco asked, digging in.

"i woke up this morning to throw up. i owled hermione this morning to let her know i won't be able to show up at the ministry today," i sighed sipping my tea.

"do i need to take time off work as well? i can stay home and take care of you," draco's face laced with concern.

"it's alright my love, i think i'll pay my mother a visit. have her make me up some of her special soup," i assured, taking a bite out of the banana as well as the toast in my hand, "by the way, all of this is because of that awful food you cooked for dinner on sunday.you're not trying to poison me are you?"

"for someone who's having a banana with their cheese toastie you act as if you understand anything about culinary," draco stared in disgust at the toast in my hand.

"hey it's good," i frowned in defence.

"whatever you say baby," draco dusted off the crumbs on his hands and walked back to the bedroom to get ready.

i stayed sat on the barstool, finishing my food and reading this week's copy of witch weekly.

"goodbye love," draco, now dressed in his robes, hugged me from behind.

i spun myself so i now faced him, "have a good day dray,"

draco leaned down for a kiss on the mouth but i quickly pursed my lips together.

"nuh-uh i can't have you catching this awful bug," i shook my head.

"i think i'll take that chance," draco swooped down and stole a quick peck.

"you bum, you're lucky i love you," i lightly shoved his chest.

"bye, i love you more," draco stepped away from me and apparated himself away.

i washed the dishes and got myself ready. not feeling like i could stomach down apparating, i decided to drive to the y/l/n manor.

i actually liked driving. none of that weasley flying car shite. actual foot on the gas; the real deal muggle driving.

i got into the small convertible draco had bought for me for my birthday last year that was parked in the garage, and sped off.

i stopped in front of a pair of grand gates that had y/l/n surname detailed on them only to see willie, the house elf that worked the security post, at the front of my parent's house.

"well hello ms y/l/n-malfoy, mrs y/l/n will be thrilled to know you're visiting," willie greeted.

"hello willie, i hope you've been well. open the gates for me please," i smiled at the small elf.

"of course, have a good day missus," willie snapped his fingers and the large iron gates in front of me opened up. i drove and stopped in front of the fountain in the courtyard.

my family was one of, if not the most influential pureblood family in the wizarding world.

i used the spare key my parents had given me and unlocked the front door. opening it, i saw my father sitting on an ottoman in the front hall, reading the daily prophet.

"hey dad" i broke the silence in the room.

"my darling y/n, you've come to visit," my father set the newspaper and got up to give me a hug, "what brings you here?"

"i think i've come down with a stomach bug, so i took the day off," i explained, taking a seat across the older man.

"that granger girl must be working you too hard. i never did understand why you have the job, you don't even have to lift a finger for the rest of your life if you wanted."

"i just like to feel like i'm contributing back to the wizarding world," i hugged the cushion and leaned my head on the arm of the sofa.

"no wonder everyone calls you the hufflepuff that got sorted into slytherin," my father chuckled shaking his head, "mum's in her sewing room if you're looking for her."

"i'm gonna look for mum then," i stood on my feet and took the staircase on the right which led to the east-wing of the manor.

i opened the double doors belonging to the sewing room gently.

"hey mum," i greeted the woman.

she looked up from her sewing machine and smiled at me. her eyes trailed down to my stomach as she looked at it for a few seconds.

godric i knew i was putting on weight but was it really that noticeable. i started to feel self-conscious and shuffled my body to take a seat on the fluffy loveseat.

"so when were you going to tell me?" my mother questioned.

"tell you what?" i furrowed my brows in confusion.

"don't play dumb with me y/n, when were you going to tell me you were pregnant?" my mother jumped out of her seat and clasped her hands in excitement.

"pregnant?" i asked puzzled.

"you even have that pregnancy glow and everything. so tell me how many months far along are you?" she snuggled up on the sofa with me.

"mum i'm definitely not pregnant, i've just gained some weight that's all," i was offended to say the least.

"you mean you don't know that you're with child?"

"because i'm not?" i retorted with a look on my face.

"well get up. hurry. we should head to the st mungo's for a checkup," my mother ushered me on my feet.

"i don't see a point in this," i sulked, but before i could complain further, my mother had stuffed a bunch of floo powder in my hands and pushed me into the fireplace.

"st mungo's hospital," i spoke clearly, hesitation in my voice.

✧·ﾟ: *✧·ﾟ:*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

"mrs malfoy, you may visit the healer now," the clerk at the front desk of the maternity unit announced.

i let out a sigh, standing up.

"we're just wasting our time here," i turned back to face my mother, but instead of giving me a response, she rolled her eyes and nudged me in the direction of the healer room.

i knocked on the door of the room and walked in.

"hello mrs malfoy, please do take a seat on the bed," the healer gestured to the hospital bed.

"so what can i do for you today?" the lady asked.

"um, i've been feeling really nauseous in the morning recently and my mother suspects i may be pregnant, so she dragged me here. but there's no point in checking me really, i know i'm not pregnant," i fiddled with my fingers.

"well there's only one way to find out," the healer gestured for me to lay on the bed and i did as asked.

the healer waved her wand over my belly, the tip of her wand glowing white. she scribbled some notes on her parchment and lifted her wand away from my torso.

"i'll be right back. you can sit up now, and help yourself to some water," the healer smiled and left the room.

i sat myself back up and poured myself a cup of water. as i took a sip, the healer walked back into the room.

"congratulations mrs malfoy, you're three months pregnant!"

i instantly choked on my water, "i'm sorry what?"

"your baby is perfectly healthy, they're about the size of cherry right now," the healer handed me the report.

"oh my godric. but i'm on that muggle birth control pill st mungo's recently started promoting," i blabbered, in shock of the news i've just received.

"ah yes i've heard about this new birth control pill, that must explain why you did not suspect anything after your lack of monthly periods. i never did understand why the up there's approved it. you do know that consuming it is not foolproof pregnancy prevention right?" the healer explained, "but if you do not wish to keep this child there are other measures we can look at..." the healer looked at me with the most caring eyes.

"oh no no, i want the baby, i just wasn't expecting this that's all," i rubbed my belly and smiled, there was a baby growing inside of me.

"if you want, i can run some extra tests and find out the gender of the baby today."

"i'd love that."

✧·ﾟ: *✧·ﾟ:*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

"so? what's the news?" my mother rushed up to me as i walked back in the waiting room.

"let's just say your mother's instincts are very accurate," i admitted.

"ooh i just knew it. i'm so excited. i can't wait to owl all my friends and our family and share the news with them," my mother gushed.

"woah mum relax, i think i should let my husband know before you tell the whole wizarding world."

"oh yes of course, you do that first."

"can we go to oxford street before heading back, i have a few things i'd like to purchase."

"you know i can never pass up an opportunity to go shopping, just don't tell your father how much i'll be spending today," my mother winked.

✧·ﾟ: *✧·ﾟ:*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

i sat on the sofa watching television when i heard draco unlock the front door.

"i hitched a ride from your brother, how was your day baby?" draco cooed, joining me on the sofa and nuzzling his head on my chest.

"it's been good, i visited my parents and feel better now, how was yours?" i spoke into the boy's hair.

"ugh same old same old. i just want to stay here and cuddle you forever," draco placed his arm over my torso and hugged me tighter. little did he know he was hugging his baby girl as well.

"before we do that, i went to town earlier and there's some stuff for you in that bag over there," i removed draco's arm that was around me and pointed to the bag on the kitchen counter.

we both got up and walked over to the counter. draco sat on the barstool while i stood across from him, watching him open the bag.

he pulled out a few pairs of trousers and a shoebox from the bag.

"shoes?" looked at the box dumbfoundedly.

"i thought i'd get you a pair of trainers, you can't wear dress shoes all the time my dear."

he opened the shoebox and admired the pair of sneakers.

"these are very out of my comfort zone, but i love them regardless."

"good. because i got myself a pair of the same colour, so we can match," i beamed.

"well now i love the shoes even more. thank you for the gifts princess," draco unfolded the different trousers to take a better look at them.

"oh but those gifts aren't from me."

"what'd you mean?" draco tilted his head to the side.

"there's a card in the bag, i think you missed it," i signalled to the gift bag.

draco pulled a white card from the bag and started reading it.

in messy handwriting the card stated:

hope you loved the gifts daddy! i can't wait to see ya in 6 months!

love, ur lil bum

i had to use my left hand to write the card so it'd look as if a kid wrote it.

when draco lifted his head back up at me, i slid a pair of sneakers that looked exactly like draco's, except they were toddler-sized.

"so...um..we're having a baby girl." except when i said the words aloud, there was a hint of confusion in my voice.

draco's face was expressionless, no anger, no smiles, no tears, no nothing.

instead, he stood up from the barstool and started walking towards me.

i felt as if time slowed down.

shit. fuck. this was it. draco was going to divorce me. i mean we were only 21 what if he was just not ready. shit. what will we do with the flat? would i have to move out? but i did pay for half of it. we could not sell the flat either, it had not been 6 months yet. shit, what about my car? it'd be awfully awkward, did i have to give it back to him? i mean he did buy it for me after all.

before i could think further, draco was now stood in front of me. i bit my lip in nervousness and braced myself for whatever he was going to say next.

instead of yelling at me, draco kneeled down so his face was right in front of my belly. he lifted up my shirt and placed a comforting hand on my stomach.

"hi there my little princess. i did in fact love the gifts and i can't wait to see you either. i love you so much my little girl, so so much," draco mumbled the last part, peppering kisses all over my belly.

i don't know if it was my raging hormones acting up but i immediately started tearing up.

feeling my tears drop on his head draco immediately stood up to meet my eye level again.

"merlin baby what's wrong why are you crying?" he caressed my cheek. i couldn't help but to cry even more.

"i-i thought you were going to leave me. but then y-you walked over and told our daughter all that, and i just love you so much and i love this little bum growing in my belly so much and i-"

"shhhh don't cry, my silly girl i'd never leave you. i thought i made that pretty clear in my vows," he wiped my tears away and pulled my body into his gently, holding my head against his chest as he rubbed circles on my back.

"i love you so much draco lucius malfoy," i mumbled into his chest.

"and i love you just as much y/n y/l/n-malfoy"

"shall we pay your mother a visit and share the good news with her?" i pulled away from my husband's chest.

"it's almost as if she hasn't been pressuring us to give her a grandchild the second we got married," draco joshed as he playfully rolled his eyes.

✧·ﾟ: *✧·ﾟ:*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

"hello draco, dear y/n," narcissa greeted as she opened the front door of the malfoy manor.

even though lucius malfoy got sentenced to azkaban for his crimes during the war three years ago, narcissa insisted she continued staying at the malfoy manor even though it meant she would be alone. she felt that this house was the one draco grew up in, and she did not plan on ever leaving till the day she died.

"what brings the two of you here? what'd you need...money? a new house?" narcissa asked as she led the couple to the grand hall.

"can't we just pay my lovely mother a visit without a hidden agenda?" draco dramatically batted his eyelashes and placed his hand over his heart.

"godric you are so dramatic, thank merlin i don't have to deal with you anymore. i never understand how y/n puts up with you."

"please do save me, i've been trying to run away from him for ages," i joked.

"hey! how rude!" draco folded his arms and pouted, sinking himself into the cushions of the loveseat him and i were sitting on.

"anyway, actually mum, we're here to give you a present," i cleared my throat, fishing out the black box from my bag and handing it to the older malfoy.

"what's the occasion?" narcissa asked, peeling the box open, "a muggle hat?"

"flip it around and read what's on it," draco explained.

she turned the hat and read aloud, "world's best grandma?"

draco and i gave my mother-in-law our cheesiest and brightest grins, "yep!"

"merlin! i'm going to be a grandmother!" narcissa exclaimed, jumping out of her chair and hugging draco and i.

she bent down and placed a hand on draco and i's cheek, "both of you are going to be the best parents, i just know it."

"oh i'm so excited i can't wait to tell everybody!" she pulled away and clapped her hands in excitement, dashing out the grand hall to her study.

"i take that as our cue to leave," i turned to my husband, who i noticed face had fallen.

"oh um yea let's go home," draco forced a smile and helped me stand up. we bid our goodbyes to the house elves and drove back to our apartment.

✧·ﾟ: *✧·ﾟ:*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

i woke up that night to find that the bed felt oddly cold. i reached over to feel for draco but instead was met with an empty side of the bed.

i saw the door of the master bathroom closed and light illuminating from the gap between the floor. although it was rather muffled, i could hear tiny sobs coming from the toilets.

"draco, hun are you alright?" i tried opening the door but it was locked. the sobs only got louder.

worried, i immediately grabbed my wand from my nightstand and cast an alohomora on the locked door. the door clicked open and i dashed into the bathroom.

the sight in front of me absolutely broke my heart. draco was leaning against the bathroom wall, hugging his knees as he cried his eyes out.

he turned his head and met my gaze. his eyes were bloodshot and swollen, the tears leaving them almost never-ending.

"oh my godric draco my baby what's wrong?" i knelt down next to him pulling him into my chest.

he quickly pulled away and buried his face in his knees in shame, "no i can't have you see me like this."

"draco, please what's wrong?" i pleaded.

i was starting to tear up as well, seeing my husband in such a broken state.

i lifted his head up to look at me and wiped away the teardrop that rolled down his cheek.

"what if i'm like him?" draco's hoarse voice spoke up.

"like who hun?"

"my father. what if i'm just like him...my mum said i'd be a great father, but what if i'm not.. what if i turn into a monster...the apple doesn't fall far from the tree you know," he croaked.

"gorgeous, i know for a fact you'd be a wonderful father to our little girl. the fact that you're worried about all this just proves you're nothing like him. you treat me like a goddess and i'm am very sure you'll do the same for our little girl. please draco, my love, i never want to hear you doubt yourself ever again. you're a perfect husband and will be just as good of a father," i spoke rather sternly at the timid man in front of me.

"i love you so much draco lucius malfoy," i spoke every word with emphasis.

there was silence for a while but draco finally spoke again, "i love you just as much y/n y/l/n-malfoy."

i leaned closer to draco, as did he, and our lips met halfway as we shared a kiss. we finally pulled away and rested our foreheads on each other's, catching our breaths.

draco bent his head down so he was in front of my stomach and whispered, "i'm going to be the best daddy ever."

✧·ﾟ: *✧·ﾟ:*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

"dray i swear to merlin if you let go of my hand i'm leaving your arse," i whined as my blindfolded self was being dragged out of the house.

"where even are you bringing me?" i whined as i waddled after draco's lead.

"almost there my love," draco hummed.

a few turns to the right and a couple of lefts later, draco announced i could take off my blindfold.

"holy fucking shit. draco lucius malfoy you did not," i gasped.

"oh but i did," he cheekily smriked.

"oh my godric i love it i love it i love it, thank you thank you thank you" i gushed as i gawked at the black mercedes g wagon in front of me.

"well i thought that since we were going to have a new addition soon, we'd need a bigger whip."

"if i wasn't 8 months pregnant right now i'd make sweet sweet love to you right on top of this car. holy shit i love it."

"want to take it out for a spin?" draco waved the car keys in front of me.

"is that even a question?" i snatched the keys from him and got into the driver's seat.

"well?! are you coming in or not?" i rolled down the window and yelled at draco who was standing on the pavement, a large smile on his face.

✧·ﾟ: *✧·ﾟ:*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

"fuck you draco malfoy!" i yelled as i felt the worst pain i have ever had in my entire life.

"you're doing so well mrs malfoy, just one more big push."

"ow ow ow," draco winced at the harsh grip i had on his hand.

this only earned a glare from me, "shut up malfoy, i'm currently pushing your daughter out of me."

"that's it, deep breath and push."

with all the energy i could, i took a deep breath and pushed. my vision was foggy as sweat and tears clouded my eyes.

soon, a baby's crying filled my ears.

"she looks absolutely beautiful mrs malfoy, i'll get the nurses to clean her up then we'll bring her to you," the healer informed.

"you did it sweetheart," draco cooed as he tucked a strand of my hair behind my ears.

soon enough, the healer placed the tiny infant in my arms, "look at hera, she looks just like you dray"

"she's got your beautiful eyes though," draco stroked hera malfoy's cheek as his other hand stroked my hair.

"i'm so happy to start a family with you," i looked at draco with loving eyes.

"i am too," draco beamed at his two princesses that laid in front of him.

✧·ﾟ: *✧·ﾟ:*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

𝗳𝗹𝗮𝘀𝗵𝗯𝗮𝗰𝗸 𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗿𝗱 𝘆𝗲𝗮𝗿, 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗾𝘂𝗶𝗱𝗱𝗶𝘁𝗰𝗵 𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝗯𝗲𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗲 𝗮 𝘀𝗹𝘆𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗻 𝘃𝘀 𝗿𝗮𝘃𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗹𝗮𝘄 𝗺𝗮𝘁𝗰𝗵

"for the last time malfoy, no i will not go out with you," i rolled my eyes as the blonde boy pulled me into the tent.

"come on just one date?" draco whined.

i shook his grip from my wrist and folded my arms, looking at him in detest.

"malfoy! hurry up the game's about to begin," marcus flint, the slytherin captain, yelled as he pulled open the entrance of the tent.

"malfoy you have to go," i nudged the boy, but his feet stayed glued to the floor.

"nope."

"you're not going to leave until i agree aren't you?"

"yeap."

cheers could be heard, insinuating that the match was going to begin in less than a minute.

"ugh fine, one date. that's it."

"yes!" draco pumped his fist in the air.

"mark my words y/l/n, i'm going to make you fall in love with me, then we'll get married and have beautiful children and live happily ever after," the boy grinned.

"malfoy," i warned, "go." i pointed to the field.

"i can't wait for our date," the boy placed a quick peck on my cheek, grabbed his broom, and skipped out of the tent.

although i tried to suppress it, a small smile formed on my face.

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#dracomalfoy #dracofanfic #dracoluciusmalfoy #fanfiction #hermione granger #draco malfoy #draco x y/n #draco lucius malfoy #draco imagine #draco imagines #draco malfoy imagines #draco malfoy oneshots #draco x reader #dracosluvbotwrites #Spotify

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moon-kn1ght · 2 years

Text

a prayer.

pairing: matt murdock x fem!reader  word count: 1.2k warnings: LOTSO Religious symbolism/images; there are prayers said; (if this might upset you, pls do not read); catholic guilt; dom/sub vibes; reader is tied up; sensory play; wax play; basic af p in v; no y/n;  a/n: this is inspired by the work Psalm by VigilanteAvocado on Ao3 in 2015. i read that and immediately YES MORE so i did this. shout out to that catholic guilt, really powered this piece home. thank you to my wife @wyn-n-tonic for helping me avoid the word "slide" and big thank you to @louderrthanthunderr for bringing me into the daredevil fandom at its resurgence -- this piece is dedicated to you <3 (happy christmas) read more on my masterlist

You knew he wasn’t the most devout Catholic. At least in the traditional sense.

Like you, he sat in the back rows at Mass. He’d always enter close to the start of the introductory rites, obviously not wanting to make small talk (or not get roped into the New York Young Adult Catholics ministry team). (You too).

He did Wednesdays, not Sundays. He had his habits.

You noticed him before he noticed you (at least you think). It was only after Easter that you saw him looking in your general direction. You had assumed he was looking at you (later you would be proven wrong).

That night, as you were walking out, he approached you. You had thought he left after communion was served.

“Hey.” – he’s simple, catching your attention. It still spooks you, though, thinking you’d made it out of the gauntlet of people asking you to attend the social (re: singles meet & greet) after mass.

“Oh–fu–hey, I’m sorry. Hi.”

“Wow, didn’t you just come from Mass? Already building that list for confession?”

You cover your face with your hands, “Mhm, yep. It’s a bad habit, one that decades of ‘Hail Mary’s’ has not been able to break.”

“I’m Matt,” he offers and you give him your name in return. “So, we both survived the Easter crowds.”

It began with a critique of that night’s homily, then became drinks, then inviting him into your bed that night. A romance from church? No one’s grandma could be prouder (just make sure to leave out the juicier details).

That night he left while you were asleep, so you didn’t get his number. But then next Wednesday, he was sitting in your pew at Mass. And yes, he did end up in your bed again.

–

Matt’s favorite way to have you? Tied up and blindfolded.

“To level the playing field,” he’d joke. Not that you ever complained.

One time, Matt made you say the Act of Contrition when a tangle of profanity (including a lot of G-d fuck) tumbled out of your lips when you came on his face.

“It’s only right,” he smiled. That planted a seed for him. To him, faith could be explored (and exploited) in more engaging ways.

–

“Do you feel secure?”

“Green.”

“Good girl–” His adoration sends a tingle across your skin. Anticipation ices your body in goosebumps. “We’re going to play a game tonight, does that sound good?” You think you can feel his hand smoothing out the sheet at the foot of the bed, but his voice sounds closer to you than that.

“Yes Matt.”

“I want you to start praying.” His words bounce off the walls of the room and ring in your ears. “While you pray, I will touch you. When you stop, I stop.”

Oh.

“Can you do that for me?”

Fucking hell Murdock. Now would this truly be considered exploration? Or was this exploitation? Either way, you are all in.

“Yes Matt.”

Matt licks his lips. He can already smell your arousal at this proposition. “Whenever you’re ready.”

You swallow deeply. One thought tracks across the front of your mind: you are so going to hell for this. With an inhale you begin, “Let us remember;”

Matt joins you on the refrain as he sinks his knees into the mattress at your side, “that we are in the Holy Presence of God.” He chuckles and readjusts the positions of your thighs.

“Glory to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Spirit.”

He leans down and kisses your hip. “As it was in the beginning…” He lets his lips drag across the center of your stomach, stopping just short of your [pubic bone] as you finish the Glory Be. A small sound escapes your mouth as you feel his hot breath so close to where you want it.

His body shifts next to yours and you can hear the unmistakable scratch-click-hshhh of a lighter. You twist your wrists in the restraints and dig your fingernails into your palms for some grounding.

“I’m not hearing anything.”

You can smell something – he’s lit a candle, you smell the wick burning. But the candle doesn’t have a specific scent, all you get is the slight smokiness of the fabric string burning.

“Hail Mary, full of grace–” you continue and he immediately replaces his hand against your hip.

“The Lord is with the–” Matt leans into your chest and trails light kisses down your collarbone. His lips blaze a fiery trail across your skin.

Your own words, holy words, ring loudly in your ears but are in reality, barely above a whisper. Matt adds to the quiet cacophony with “I love hearing you say these things for me.” He grazes his teeth against your nipple. “I’m going to add an intense feeling, if you don't want me to just stop speaking.”

Your whispered prayer becomes a plead for more with “Blessed is the fruit of thy womb;”

“Good girl,” he coos with his mouth wrapped around your breast.

It’s not the first time you two have played with wax, one can definitely call it a ‘habit’ of Matt. Still, when the first drip of wax hits your skin, unexpectedly, sharply, you gasp your words. “Holy Mary” becomes a shrill choke for air, of which your lungs are suddenly deprived of.

Matt loves these noises, the visceral way your body responds to foreign sensations when you’re so out of control.

More drips of wax have you writhing in your restraints, practically chanting the final line of “now and at our hour of death, Amen.”

“Matt, please–” you cry.

“I’m here,” his hand gasps yours, “Tell me what you need.” His voice sounds so desperate, almost as wrecked as yours.

“–I need you. I need to feel you.”

Matt unties your hands and you immediately cling to him, wrapping one arm around his shoulders and nestling the other into his hair.

But you don’t stop the prayers, begging quietly for more of him. You whimper the Our Father into his neck as he pushes inside of you. His thrusts bring your bodies closer together, closer to being one. Near your climax, you hear familiar words on his lips.

He whispers against your skin, “Purify me and I shall be clean; Wash me and I shall be whiter than snow.”

Your words cut against each other like rival tides pulling on a shore –

“-- Create in me a clean heart –”

“-- lead us not into temptation,”

The knot in your center tightens and breaks, cutting the stream of your words into a tumble of “yes, G-d yes.”

His thrusts become quicker as you come down from your high, his words muttered. “Deliver me, O God of my salvation–” and he buries himself deep inside you as he too finds his climax.

It’s not until the two of you are curled up in bed later that night do you joke, “Now, how are we supposed to explain that one in confession this week?”

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock/reader #marvel reader insert #daredevil #matt murdock #daredevil fic #daredevil x reader #i'll see y'all at xmas eve mass tnt looking guilty af in the back row

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randomshyperson · 3 years

Text

The Scarlet Witch Prophecy - Chapter 10 - The Fifth Year (Part Four)

Summary: As the youngest daughter of Howard Stark, you have ordinary expectations for your years at Hogwarts. Little do you know what adventures await you when your destiny is intertwined with the legendary Scarlet Witch.

Warnings: +16. Adaptation of the Harry Potter Saga, Magical Thematic, Prophecies, Mentions of Violence, Torture and dark magic, Language (swearing and minor/major offenses), manipulation of will, Underage kissing, insinuation of smut with minors, Smut (overage), descriptions of death, aggression, obscurity, angst, fluffy, soulmates analogies. Chapter Warnings: Dark magic, violence, magical torture.

A/N> I really hope i don't put this fic into another hiatus, but i got a feeling i will. The only I can promise is to finish it. Hope you all like this chapter.

Series Masterlist || Read on AO3 || All Works Masterlist

Part X - The Fifth Year (Part Four)

You walk beside Headmistress Harkness in silence, deeper into the dungeons of the castle.

She leads you to a wooden door, and then you enter a large stone room, which you imagine to be an office for the study of ancient runes, as you notice the symbols around the room, carved into the rocks and the corners of the walls.

"Professor, what did we come here for?" You ask with your arms folded across your chest, feeling your body shiver slightly at the creepy atmosphere in the room.

"I am going to help you reach your true potential, Miss Stark." She declares simply and waves her wand.

You feel your body being pushed until you are in the center of the room, your arms uncrossing and stretching out at your body's side, but soon there are thick iron chains conjured around your ankles and wrists.

Letting out a surprised exclamation, you look at Harkness in fear, but she is muttering softly, and walking around while touching the runes with her wand, and the symbols light up a purple glow one by one.

"Professor, what's going on?" You question trying to struggle against the chains, which seem to get tighter with each movement. You let out a grunt of pain.

"Stop fighting." She orders as she turns to you, her gaze assessing your face. "It's almost time, it will be painful if you resist."

"What are you talking about?"

But Agatha didn't answer and walked back behind you. You deduced that she was touching the runes on the walls at your back, because you could hear the rustling on the rocks, and then she came back into your field of vision.

She rummaged through her pockets, and pulled out a small watch.

"Now, now, you're almost late." She remarks, and looks back at you with a little smile. "I bet Erik asked about Pietro."

You frowned, but Agatha looked away, moving to the cabinet in the corner of the room. She returned with four candles in her hands, and deposited them around you.

You watched her use her wand to make the candles stand perfectly still in the four corners, and then light itself. You felt your heart race. Agatha was going to do a ritual with you. Of what exactly you had no idea. And judging by the events, it couldn't be good.

"Professor..."

"Quiet." She interrupts earnestly, one finger raised in the air while she looks back at the clock. You wriggle uncomfortably, and it takes only a moment for Agatha to let out a sigh and turn to you. "Let's get started."

You were about to ask again, but Agatha raises her wand toward you and mutters words you don't recognize.

Your vision dims for a second and then you think you are having another vision, but you cannot understand exactly what it is.

It looks like the nightmares you had with Mephisto, but everything is quieter. You can only hear your own footsteps, but it is as if you were walking on water.

The shelves in the ministry are completely empty, and the image is dull.

This time you are not looking for something. You are calling out to someone.

You walk and you walk, and then you come to the center of a room. And you choke when you see yourself.

But your face is completely bloodied, and you are whimpering in pain.

"I found you." The voice is Mephisto's, but you don't see him anywhere. Your bruised self is dying, and you begin to feel desperate, but when you try to scream for help, what comes out are the words. "Where is it? Find it for me!"

"I don't know." Your self whines. "And if I did know I wouldn't tell you."

"Filthy half-blood!" The voice that is your accuses, and then there is a red light and your bruised self screams in pain. It is the cruciatus curse, and it only stops after a moment. "I have no time for your lies. I'll end it at once."

You gasp and are back in Agatha's room, falling to your knees.

"What was that?" You manage to ask as you try to calm your breathing, grumbling in pain as you realize that the sudden movement has made the chains hurt your wrists.

"That was just what it took to get Wanda away from the castle." Agatha replies as she lowers her wand. You frown in confusion, but the woman is getting closer. She makes a motion with her hands and you feel a sharp pain on the tip of your forehead, and you grumble.

A little blood trickles down her face, but it doesn't hurt that much, and you figure it's just a small cut. Ancient runes are not your specialty, but it's not hard to imagine that she just drew one on your skin.

"What do you want from me, professor?" You ask half breathlessly, feeling your body weak. Agatha is muttering some incantations, and you feel as if your energy is slowly being drained away.

When she stops, you can barely keep your eyes open.

"Now we will wait a little while, dear." She says as she kneels in front of the candled square she created. "Wanda needs time to get to the ministry."

You shook your head, feeling your vision go blurry and your mouth go dry. Agatha sighed before she stood up, and you were surprised that she brought you water.

"I don't want you to collapse now, we're not even halfway through it." She declared as she forced the small bottle against your lips. You grumbled, but she held your chin tightly and forced you to drink.

It wasn't water, but it didn't taste bad.

"There you go, drink it all." She guided and only when the item was empty she pulled away. With a flick of her fingers, the bottle disappeared and you gasped as you felt a wave of heat pass through your entire body.

It was a potion of vigor, and although confused and frightened, you had no physical discomfort.

"What did you do to me?" You questioned between teeth. Agatha moved around the room, grabbing one of the books from the bookshelf. She muttered something about making sure she was doing everything right, before she stopped standing in front of you.

"Isn't it obvious, my dear?" She retorted with debauchery. "And I thought you would be smarter, but perhaps the hat was wrong."

Agatha crouched down again, and put the book down on the floor in front of you. You looked down to notice that it was open on a page that contained a map of England.

Before you could ask, she was forcing your head down, and you grunted in pain. When your blood dripped onto the paper, she let go.

"Thank you, dear." She declared without looking at you. "Now let's find out how close they are."

You gasp in surprise when your blood moves on the paper, circling around the lines of the map. Agatha makes a noise with her mouth in contentment.

"Ah, judging by the speed, I'm sure they used the thestrals." She comments. "I suppose Miss Quinn joined the quest in the end."

You look at the professor with confusion, but she is already raising her fingers to your forehead.

"Let's take a peek." She declaims, and you feel your skin burn where she touches it. Your vision dims for a second before you see the sky.

You are mounted on something, and you look around to see all your friends mounted on thestrals, flying beside you. You want to ask what is going on, but soon realize that you are just watching.

"Are we far away?" Gamora asks beside you.

"No! Just a few more minutes." It is Tony who answers from the front horse. He looks upset, all of them do in fact.

You want to shout to ask, but your vision dims and you are back on your feet.

Agatha lets out an impatient sigh as you pant in pain, trying to understand exactly what is going on.

"It's a pity." She mumbles to herself and you force yourself to ask.

"What is it?"

"Mephisto takes no prisoners, Miss Stark." She replies. "I hadn't expected your friends to interfere, it's really a pity. Perhaps you should already pick out a dress for the memorial ceremony."

"What are you talking about?"

"In reality it's your fault of course." She declares with a mischievous giggle and you stare at her in confusion. Agatha sighs humorously, as if what she is telling you is obvious. "Silly girl, the cloak of course! The legendary invisibility cloak that you lent to your dear brother."

"What?"

Agatha rolled her eyes.

"It's not funny when you don't know what I'm talking about." She commented impatiently and leaned against one of the pillars of the hall, her arms crossed. "But I think we have time until they reach the ministry, so let's talk a little."

You think the effect of the potion is wearing off too quickly, but you force yourself to keep your gaze on Agatha.

"The story is much simpler than you might imagine, of course." She begins. "I needed to find a way to help Wanda unleash her power completely, and you were the solution to all my problems." She says with a nostalgic chuckle, and you look at her wide-eyed.

Your vision is darkening again, and Agatha notices by your tired expression, so she lets out a laughing exclamation and moves around the room. When she returns, there is a wooden compartment in her arms, which she lays on the floor. You notice the dozens of small glass jars, and she forces you to drink another one.

"Dear, Dear, there you go. There's no reason to look so pale, you just need a little encouragement." She smiles at her own pun, and you move your head to push her touch away, making her laugh before turning away.

"Where was I? "Oh yes, in the beginning." She asks rhetorically, her posture amused. "I'm going to assume that Erik told you about the nature of Wanda's powers, dear, it would be sad to know that he didn't after so much."

"He did." You grumble and Agatha smiles.

"Oh, great." She says. "Well, of course he said what I told him, of course. But he couldn't know everything. He wouldn't approve of my methods. As a father and as a wizard I suppose."

You sighed lightly, your body was shaking, like a fever, but the potion was keeping you pain-free.

"Professor..."

"Don't interrupt!" She cuts off quickly, but her tone is amused. "What an education you've been giving at Hufflepuff, my goodness. Maybe the hat should have sent you to Gryffindor, you would have learned better about manners."

You clenched your jaw and Agatha giggled a little before continuing.

"I told Erik that you two should stay apart, and he bought that story like the fool he always was." She comments with amusement and you feel your stomach sink.

"Was it you?"

"Don't make that face, honey." She says. "I couldn't risk you getting in my way."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Agatha sighs impatiently.

"Your bond, Miss Stark!" she retorts as if it were obvious, "I needed to shape Wanda's progress according to my agenda. If you were around her, you could develop the bond and your abilities would be a problem."

You looked at her with confusion and Agatha took another look at the map before looking back at you.

"They are arriving, shall we take another peek?"

"Tell me what you want to say!" You ask, but the witch just ignores you while touching your forehead again. You gasp in pain, but this vision is quicker.

You see a dark concrete, and a tall door. And then Agatha brings you back.

"Great, they're at the ministry." She mumbles as she releases you, you gasp helplessly, your head weighing down. But Agatha brings another vial of potion to your lips. "This is going to get a lot worse before it gets better I'm sorry to say, Miss."

You motion for her to take the bottle from your lips, but she insists that you drink it all and only backs away when you do.

"What do you know about my bond with Wanda?" You question next, feeling the elixir kick in again.

"Everything." She states simply and you look at her. "How it was made, how to break it and how to improve it."

Agatha draws her wand toward you again and you widen your eyes.

"Let's make sure she remembers why she''s there, dear." She speaks before bewitching you.

You watch yourself being tortured again, but now the shelves are full.

When you return, you fall flat on your face on the floor.

Agatha approaches with a grimace, pulling your hair to make you look at her again, and you grunt in pain.

"Do you need another potion or can you stay awake?" She asks.

"Fuck you."

Agatha laughed and let go of your hair, you managed to keep your head away from the floor by millimeters.

"I'm being so nice and you so badly behaved."

"You chained me to the ground." You retort with indignation.

Agatha rolls her eyes, crossing her arms as she leans against the pillar again.

"This is only to keep you from disappearing." She comments causing you to raise your eyebrows. "Oh, right, I forgot that you have no idea what I'm talking about."

You grumble in pain, but don't interrupt.

"As I was saying, I know all about your magical bonding, dear." She says. "It took some time, but I managed to figure it all out. And that's exactly why I kept you away from Wanda this year."

"Why?"

"Because I want Wanda's magic for myself, of course."

You let out an exclamation of surprise and anger, but before you could say anything else, your body tensed all at once, and you felt your heart soar as if it were racing.

"W-what's happening?" You muttered in confusion, feeling the adrenaline wake up your senses. Agatha looked at you intently, moving away from the pillar to look at you more closely. She touched the side of your faces, assessing you.

"You can feel the danger she is in can't you?" She asked with fascination in her voice and gaze. You gasped, feeling the room getting smaller. "It is absolutely magnificent to witness such power."

"What did you do?" you ask with difficulty. "Where is Wanda?"

Agatha laughs as she walks away. She moves around the room again and you think she is going to go back to her original position, but she makes a motion with her hands and floats in the air. She sits down with her legs crossed and stands at the same height as you.

"Sorry, Miss Stark." She says with her palms up and lying in the air. "We've reached the part where it's going to become very painful."

The candles around you float at head height, and the flames light up, but they are blue. You also notice the runes glowing on the walls.

"Please." You plead but Agatha doesn't answer you, all she says are words in a language you don't recognize.

When she falls silent, you wait for the pain to come, but all is quiet.

"It's done." She announces with a sigh.

"What's done?"

"Now she can become a scarlet witch for good."

"Professor what..."

But your voice dies in your throat as you feel a sharp pang in your chest and gasp breathlessly. A whistle hissing in your ear, and a sharp pain takes over your entire body in the next second.

You don't need much to deduce that Wanda is suffering.

"Stop it!" You beg as you hug your own body, feeling your skin burn. "Please stop hurting her!"

"Focus, Stark." You hear Agatha's voice in your head. It's hard to push through the pain to pay attention.

"Let me go!" You plead but you have the impression that it is only in your thoughts. You know that your body is screaming in pain. "Let me save her! Wanda!"

"Pay attention, girl!" It's Agatha again. "You never needed to be with her to protect her. Concentrate. Don't let her get hurt."

Agatha's sentence echoes in your head for many minutes, until her voice replaces the pain.

You open your eyes, but cannot see the room. There is a golden light all around you, and it takes a moment to realize that it is your hands and eyes that are glowing.

"What?" you gasp in confusion but your body is shaking again and you can taste blood in your mouth.

"Not yet, honey." Agatha says and you realize she is still in the room. You blink, trying to see her, but all you can see is the light. You can barely feel the chains, but they are still on your wrists. "Just a little longer. He needs to use the curse."

"Professor, what's going on?" You try but there is no answer. The pain returns and your body hangs forward, but you rest your hands on the floor, panting. "Please help me."

"Help yourself." Says the woman. "What will make the pain stop?"

"Wanda." The answer escapes in a sigh and you can barely keep your eyes open.

"Then go to her."

And then your vision dims.

You think you are falling into a portal key, because it feels the same. But you land before reaching the ground.

Everything is muffled, and you look around to see spell lights.

You see your friends dueling wizards you don't recognize, in a place you know as the Ministry of Magic.

You know because it is like your childhood memories, on the rare occasions when you were with Tony and your father in search of some package.

But it's empty now, except for the wizards fighting.

Your friends are losing, you know by the way the masked men are surrounding everyone in the corner.

But you're not looking for that.

Your attention is on the girl in the center, the bright red light surrounding her hands.

Your body immediately relaxes at the sight of her, and you walk on.

Wanda is also struggling. Her energy escapes from her hand towards the black-clad sorcerer, who has a devilish grin on his face, but who seems pleased to see so much power.

You lift your hand to touch her face, and then the sound returns.

The effect of your touch on Wanda's skin is immediate.

Her magic explodes in her hands, creating a force field that pushes Mephisto and the walkers meters away.

The leader lets out a laugh as he falls backwards, while his followers stare at the scene with confusion, surprised by the sudden blow.

Wanda falls to her knees, and you stoop down to the level of her face, raising your hands to your face.

"Wanda? Can you hear me?" You call out, but it is as you thought, she cannot. Neither she can see you. But something makes you believe she can feel you. You sigh watching her try to pull herself together.

Mephisto stands up and waves for his followers to stand still.

Wanda stands in front of her friends. You swallow dryly, and stand beside her.

"Your protector is here, isn't he?" The man questions with a murderous look on his face. "I can feel it."

"Where is she?" Wanda asks angrily, but the wizard continues to smile.

"Do you really think I would risk exposure to steal your girlfriend from the castle, Miss Maximoff?" The wizard retorts. "You are as foolish as your father."

Wanda raises her hands again. You feel your body tingle.

"I won't ask again." She says and Mephisto's gaze flashes with irritation.

"It is I who will not repeat myself, miss." He strikes back and points his wand toward Wanda in a quick motion. You see the green light approaching in slow motion, and your feet are already moving forward.

The Death Curse hits you in the chest, but all you feel is the tingling in the back of your head, and all they see, is a golden light.

"This is getting embarrassing for you." Wanda teases the wizard, and you want to smile, but you are feeling your connection grow weak, the atmosphere begins to glaze over.

"I've had enough of games." Mephisto speaks impatiently, and moves his wand toward the fountain in the center in the hallway. Water pours out of the marble and rises to the ceiling, forming a three-headed serpent. "I'll just drown your friends and eliminate a few names from the list of blood traitors."

"No!" Wanda says as she throws an energy ball at the sorcerer, but he deflects it with ease. The water Hydra moves and Wanda attacks again.

You think the water will reach your friends, but the ministry's Floo powder fireplaces are lighting up and the order's wizards are coming out of there.

Mephisto's smile fades. His followers begin to duel, and he forms a shield to stop Wanda's attacks while turning to look at the incoming aurors, as you watch Hydra's enchantment being controlled and undone.

It is satisfying to see Mephisto choke in surprise as the rest of the Ministry officials begin to Apparate and use the floo powder net to arrive on the scene.

You see the expression of pure shock when the Minister of Magic sees the sorcerer, before Mephisto apparates and disappears.

There is an immediate commotion afterwards, the aurors of the order preventing the walkers from fleeing and the rest of the officials looking on at the scene of the fight with confusion.

The atmosphere is getting stuffy again, so you turn to Wanda again, and she has tears in her eyes as she looks around.

Erik reaches her within the next minute.

"Darling!" He says hugging her with concern, but Wanda sobs and he pulls away looking into her eyes. "What happened?"

"I couldn't find her, papa." She cries. "I looked everywhere."

Erik shakes his head.

"Wanda, Miss Stark is safe." He assures you and you frown. "It was a false vision dear, she was never here."

Wanda gasps in confusion, you want to touch her but can barely keep yourself watching.

"But i saw..."

"I know dear, but it wasn't true." Erik interrupts, "Let's go back to the castle, I'll tell you everything. But breathe, okay, she's safe."

Wanda nods, and you feel her exhaustion invade your body immediately. The aurors of the order help your friends, and you watch Erik help Wanda walk to the fireplaces, and the realization that she is safe is enough for you to surrender to the darkness.

//-////-////-////-////-////-////-////-////-////-////-//

You know something is different the moment you open your eyes.

Maybe the way all the sounds invade your ears at once, and you grumble, trying to figure out if you have a headache or just reject the sudden gain in consciousness.

There is no pain, though, you notice.

There is only softness and lightness.

You blink a few times, and understand that you are lying on a bed. Straightening up, you eventually identify the room. It is an infirmary, but it is not Hogwarts. You frown in confusion, and straighten to sit up.

It looks like a hospital room, and there are other beds a few meters away, but they are empty. You also notice the "get well soon" balloons and the gift wrappings and food baskets on top of the cabinet at the end of the bed.

When you notice the sleeping figure in the armchair next to you, you gasp in surprise.

"Wanda!" You call out with a mixture of shock and relief.

The girl opens her eyes sleepily and then widens them when she realizes that you are looking at her curiously, babbling about what had happened and if she was okay. All Wanda does is let out a tearful laugh and jump at you, her arms around your neck as she hugs you tightly.

"Hey, is everything okay?" You ask fearfully, letting your arms encircle her waist and pulling her into bed with you. Wanda buries her face in your neck, and you want to close your eyes to enjoy the feeling of having her so close, but you are too curious to know about everything. "Wanda?"

"Fuck I was so worried." She sighs against your skin before pulling away, and you frown, looking into her watery eyes. You reach out to caress her face and she smiles as she leans into your touch, one hand rising to yours on her cheek.

"What happened?" You ask and she shakes her head slightly.

"A lot." She says. "But everyone is fine. You...merlin...you're here."

Wanda rests her forehead against yours and you both close your eyes.

"Where else would I be?"

She doesn't answer, just presses your lips together in a sweet but firm kiss. You feel your whole body shiver all at once, and gasp in surprise.

Wanda pulls away with a sigh and hugs you again, and you decide to give yourself over to the feeling, inhaling her perfume as you bury your face in her hair and feel your whole body relax all at once.

"Finally!" Your brother's voice startles you slightly, but you don't have much time to absorb his sudden presence in the room, because soon all your friends are entering as well, and Wanda is breaking the embrace so that your brothers will hug you and then your friends.

As soon as you hug everyone, and receive pats on the shoulder and questions about how you are feeling from the adults, you intertwine your hand with Wanda, who remains sitting next to you on the bed. The feeling brings you an instant sense of safety.

"Can someone tell me how I got here now?" You ask just as Carol Danvers turns away from you and stands next to Erik and Fury, who are in the corner next to Mantis and Harley, all squeezed around your bed.

"What's the last thing you remember, YN?" It is Tony who asks and you frown.

"The room with Professor Harkness, I think." You say feeling your stomach turn. Wanda's touch tightens a little, and you appreciate the sensation. Many flashes pass through your mind at once, and you use your free hand to massage your forehead lightly. "I think I remember a spell... Professor!" You exclaim suddenly looking at Erik, remembering the schoolmistress's words. "Agatha, she was the one who planned everything... the ministry, the prophecy! She knew everything and...!"

"Calm down, miss Stark." The professor interrupts with a nod. "We already know about what happened in the dungeon."

"Oh, okay." You mumble clumsily. "H-how did I get out of there?"

Erik exchanges a look with Wanda before turning back to you.

"Your last memory, Miss Stark, what would it be? Do you only remember talking to Agatha?"

"If you call torture talking." You mumble clumsily, and Wanda squeezes your hand hard, making you bite your tongue. "Hey." You say to her, but she doesn't let go of the grip. She says nothing, and you sigh. "Yes, professor. I just remember being within the spell. And then I woke up here."

Erik clears his throat and you think this is the time he's going to ask everyone to leave, but he hasn't.

"Well, then we have to update you on some important things, miss." He says as he puts his hands in his pockets. "I believe Doctor McCoy would prefer to talk to you first however, and he is looking at this small crowd with a certain disapproval."

You frown at the phrase, but there is a man dressed in aqua green approaching the bed and beckoning your friends to stand back. It's the healer in charge, you read the little plaque with the name "Doctor Hank McCoy" on the coat as he asks everyone not to be so on top of you.

"Good morning, Miss Stark, it's very good to see you awake at last. How are you feeling?" He asks as you approach, you squeeze Wanda's hand as soon as she makes mention of getting up. She gets a slight flush on her cheeks, but ignores the doctor's gaze and continues sitting next to you. Hank realizing that the witch won't move away, decides to approach you from the other side of the bed, a metal stethoscope in position on his neck and hands.

"I'm fine." You say with a smile.

"Let's make sure you are." He says as he places the object against your chest. "Take a deep breath, please."

The check is quick, and a little awkward as everyone is looking at you. Doctor Hank grabs a wooden clipboard as soon as he's finished.

"You've recovered almost completely, that's impressive." He comments sounding pleased and you look at him curiously.

"Was I sick?"

Hank gives a little laugh and then frowns, realizing that you really were curious. He clears his throat.

"Are you experiencing memory loss?" He asks looking at you intently. You swallow dryly, pulling away slightly as you feel the blue orbs analyzing you so intently. "It's a common symptom for this type of magical occurrence, of course, though it's a more recurring one in patients who have experienced the cruciatus curse."

"Doctor?"

Hank straightens his body again, putting his hands in his pockets.

"What is your last memory of the ritual, miss?"

"Ritual?" You ask confused.

"The bonding ritual, Miss Stark." He clarifies. "Your family members explained to the team that you were in the custody of a dark witch and went through a level five rated magical binding ritual against your will."

"I..."

"Doctor McCoy, please." Erik interrupts with an embarrassed smile. "We haven't had a chance to talk to her about everything. Perhaps some less technical language."

"Oh, yes, of course." Hank agreed with a smile, and his posture became much friendlier. "What exactly do you remember, Miss?"

"Only to be caught in a spell doctor." You reply. "My professor, she used some runes on the walls and tried to keep me trapped. It was... quite unpleasant if you ask me." You recount feeling really uncomfortable. "I didn't really understand what happened."

"Don't worry, we know what happened." Hank says. "From a medical point of view at least." He jokes and Erik smiles, but you are too nervous to do so. "Sorry, but the room is too crowded. Why don't you all wait outside while I talk to Miss Stark?"

Your friends let out a disgruntled exclamation together, but Carol and Fury are already pushing everyone out.

"She can stay, right?" you ask quickly and Doctor Hank gives a chuckle.

"I wouldn't try to keep you and Miss Maximoff apart anymore in any manner at all." He comments and you look at him with confusion.

Erik also stays in the room, standing at the end of the bed. Wanda strokes your hand with her thumb as the doctor speaks again, and you want to pay attention to his words rather than her touch, but it is a difficult task.

Hank sits on the edge at the height of your knee.

"You have undergone a magical bonding ritual, Miss Stark." He begins. "More precisely, through a kind of spell to strengthen a magical bond that already exists in you. In this case, your bond with Miss Maximoff."

The doctor adjusts his glasses slightly as soon as you nod in understanding.

"That kind of spell is very dangerous by itself, Miss." He says. "But it is even more so when done without the consent of those involved."

Hank gropes his pockets and then takes out his own wand, extending it into the air with a smooth motion. You watch intently as two golden figures resembling two people appear in front of you.

He also draws a thread connecting them at chest height.

"What we know about natural protective magical bonds, Miss, is that they act as a string of energy between the bodies of the witches who are connected." He narrates as he signals the golden magical wave with his finger. "That string stretches, and bends, and can only be broken in three ways. With the length of the magic contract, the withdrawal of the spell, or the death of one of the witches. And in this third, if the witch to whom the link refers, dies before the other, the other will suffer the same fate, since the link remains intact."

"Doctor, I don't mean to be disrespectful, but I already knew that information." You comment clumsily, but the adults don't seem annoyed, they just giggle. You are surprised to realize that you know Wanda thought it was funny even without looking at her.

"Yeah, yeah, sorry, I'm getting there." He hits back with a chuckle. Hank makes another motion with his wand, and this time, an energy rune appears between the figures in the center of the link, and you frown as you recognize the image.

"It looks like the one Professor Harkness drew on the floor." You comment.

"It's exactly the same." Hank says. "This is rune needed for the power release spell. Ancient magic, very powerful." He counters. "It was common for witches to use this kind of spell in the wild, before magic societies were fully formed, since no one learned how to grow their own power through study and practice. Other methods were used before the schools of magic existed."

"What did she do to me, doctor?" You ask fearfully, understanding where the conversation was going. Doctor Hank exchanged a look with Professor Erik.

"Well, Mrs. Harkness wanted to rush things, I believe." He says. "You see, magical connections are very unstable magics, Miss. Especially if done between living things." He adds and moves his wand again. The rune multiplies and lands on the chest of each of the figures. "The ritual that Agatha performed served to stimulate the full magical potency of your connection all at once."

"But what does that mean?"

"It means that after that night, she merged your magic and Miss Maximoff's magic as one." Hank clarified and you frowned, trying to understand exactly what that signified. Seeing your expression, Professor Erik cleared his throat and approached the side of the bed, close to Wanda.

"What will happen now, Miss Stark, will be the peak of a magical bond." He says with a worried look, and you look at him curiously. "You two will both present new powers, and you will need to learn how to control all of them."

You ran your fingers lightly through your hair, sighing.

"You still haven't told me how I ended up here." You grumbled slightly impatiently. The teacher hesitated, but then told you.

"Agatha underestimated the power of your bond with Wanda." He said and you were about to question what that meant when he spoke again. "The ritual served to potentiate the Scarlet Witch's magic, using your body as a bridge for contact, since through the connection between you, she was able to force Wanda's magic to evolve."

You looked at Wanda, but she was looking at your hands entwined together.

"Is everything okay with you?" You asked her immediately, and she raised her eyes to you. Nodding in agreement, she gave you a shy smile. You wished you were alone with her.

"Agatha wanted to use the bond just to stimulate Wanda's magic to its full potential, and she knew she could use your magical bond to do that." The professor then added. "But, I don't know if you remember, Miss Stark, as we talked about earlier in the year, there are limits to what the human body can handle. Just like you, Wanda didn't even come of age yet. Her magic simply wasn't ready."

"And that's when the magical bond between you two interrupted the spell." The doctor added and you widened your eyes slightly. He waved his wand so that the illusion of the figures shattered. "You see, Miss, you have a protective bond with Miss Maximoff. The minute the spell became strong enough to injure her, your magic merged with hers, and all was restrained. The ritual was immediately interrupted."

"You may not remember, but Agatha took you to the ministry." Erik said next and grimaced slightly. "Well, not exactly brought, but projected you. She was the one who set up the visions in Wanda's head so that she would see you wounded and fight Mephisto again. All the danger she was going through triggered the bond. And then she could project your consciousness to Wanda, giving her the power to face Mephisto in a duel."

"I don't remember that." You mutter, scratching the back of your neck lightly.

"Don't worry." Hank adds. "It was a very intensive magical exhaustion, I'm sure your memories will gradually come back. If not, Miss Maximoff can help you." He jokes and you frown in confusion, but the doctor is already getting up. "Well, I need to check on other patients, I'll come visit you later. Try to eat something before I get back, okay? You should still be here for a few days, until we're sure you're fully recovered."

You thanked the doctor before he left. Erik cleared his throat.

"Do you have any other questions?"

"Many sir." You say making him laugh lightly. But then you sigh. "But I wanted to stay with Wanda for a while."

Erik nods in understanding, and exchanges a look with his daughter before turning to leave.

You straighten to lie down and look at Wanda and she mimics your movement, but looks up at the ceiling.

"Wanda?" You call out and wait for her to turn her face toward you. A sense of lightness and assurance immediately invades your chest at having the green orbs stare at you. "How do you feel?"

She gives you a short smile, and straightens up to turn her whole body toward you. It's uncomfortable to hold your hands like this, so she lets go, but raises her fingers to your face, tracing your features.

"I feel different." She confesses. Every touch of her fingers is warm and comforting. "What about you?"

"Different too." You reply, resisting the urge to close your eyes. "But a good different."

Wanda smiles, shaking her head in agreement. You are silent for a moment, Wanda using her thumb to caress your cheek tenderly, and you let your gaze on her mouth.

"Why were you almost crying when I woke up?" You ask next, and her body tenses before she sighs. You look into her eyes, waiting.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to worry you." She mumbles and you shake your head, bringing your faces closer together. Wanda sighs and brings her hand to the back of your neck as you press your foreheads together. "I can't talk about it."

"Show me then." You ask and she closes her eyes just before you close yours.

The visions hit you in the next second.

You see the false memories Agatha implanted in her, they were images of you being tortured in the ministry, your screams echoing among the corridors. You feel Wanda's desperation, her helplessness, the way her heart squeezed and the despair at every door she opened in the ministry and could not find you.

You gasp when you see the duel with Mephisto again, feeling your own touch in Wanda's magic, the way she had never felt so powerful, every cell vibrating.

A surprised sigh escapes when you see Wanda being carried back to the castle, as she feels her whole body tired but cannot close her eyes without hearing from you. You feel her tears when Professor Erik lets her see the state of the dungeon where Agatha imprisoned you, and the yearning when she sees your blood on the chains and on the floor.

The anger when her father tries to send her to sleep, and she insists on going to the hospital with your family, and the way her body shakes when she sees you on a stretcher unconscious.

Your own image scares you. The deep wounds on your wrists and ankles, made by the iron chains you have broken. The rune cut on your forehead, bright and red, and the blood that dripped down your nose, ears and mouth.

You feel the way Pietro's tight embrace, or his words of affirmation, assuring her that the healers will heal you, helps Wanda relax, but you also see how it's not enough. How all Wanda needs is for you to be at her side.

The feeling of fear and insecurity that lingers in Wanda's chest during the days she lies beside you in bed, waiting for you to wake up. Unsuccessful in sensing your thoughts even when she tries to sneak up on you during the nurses' shift change.

And then the sense of relief when seeing you open your eyes.

You gasp out the memories, feeling yours and Wanda's tears too.

"Oh, my love, I'm so sorry." You ask in a hoarse voice. "I should have woken up sooner."

Wanda lets out a tearful laugh, shaking her head.

"It's okay." She assures. "I'm just glad you did."

You smile, bringing your fingers together to take a strand of hair from Wanda's eyes and place it behind her ears.

"I will always be by your side, Wanda." You say. "I promise."

Wanda sighs, opening her eyes again. You use your thumb to wipe away the tears that have trickled down her face.

There is a moment of silence, and then your heart soars at her words.

"I know about the prophecy."

You look away before looking at her again.

"I'm sorry." You say. "I should have told you."

"Yes, you should have." She retorts seriously, but she doesn't sound angry. "But it's over now. And now everyone knows."

You widen your eyes, and probably sensing the way you've grown anxious, Wanda firms the touch of her hand on the side on your neck, murmuring lightly.

"Don't worry, eventually everyone would find out." She says and you swallow dryly.

"H-how did they know?"

"That's why Mephisto was in the Ministry." She explains. "He was looking for the prophecy in the mystery department. Steve found it first."

You swallowed dryly and Wanda continued to tell.

"I think he hesitated to tell Tony for a moment." She says. "But then he did. And then everyone knew. My father told the order as soon as you were admitted."

"How did Tony take it?" you asked fearfully and Wanda sighed.

"Better than I did if you ask me." She grumbled and you smiled shyly. "He only calmed down when they poured some potion for him. And well, I broke Dad's nose so it didn't really go down too well."

"Wow, you did what?" you ask in surprise, and Wanda grumbles, tucking her head into her pillow. You giggle, digging into her hair with your fingers. "I want to see that one."

Wanda chuckles against the cotton before looking back at you. She shows you the memory next. Everyone around the St.Mungus waiting room when Steve arrives accompanied by Erik and he tells everyone the truth. You see Tony squirming and being calmed down by two nurses, and you can feel Wanda's irritation and indignation as she looks at the "I was doing the right thing" expression her father has on his face. And how the feeling explodes in her chest when he comes to say he was trying to keep her safe and she just punches him in the face.

You gasp out of the memory with an impressed laugh, moving from the image of Erik with a bloody nose to Wanda with flushed cheeks, impacted by the way your laughter makes her heart soar.

"I can't believe you punched your father in the face." You tease with amusement and Wanda laughs lightly, reaching out to rest her arm on your waist. Her hand caresses your back gently.

"If he hadn't kept us apart none of this would have happened." She mumbles bitterly and you sigh.

"He thought he was helping." You retort but Wanda just hums. You let out an exclamation next as you remember something. "Wanda, you didn't tell me you were having nightmares! Are they still happening?"

Wanda sighs, denying with her head.

"No, not since the ministry." She says. "Papa hasn't figured out what they are, and now we can't count on Professor Harkness to help us find out. But since I fought Mephisto at the ministry, they've stopped."

"Why didn't you tell me about them?"

"Because they were about you." She retorts as if it's obvious. "I didn't want to worry you anymore. Not when all I do is cause you problems."

The confession catches you completely off guard. And Wanda's guilty tone breaks your heart. She is looking down at the sheet and you let out an incredulous laugh.

"That's so very far from the truth, my dear." You say as you catch her chin between your fingers, and make her look at you gently. "You have no idea how good you do me, do you Wanda?"

"I..."

"It' s okay, now I can show you." You interrupt with a shy smile, bringing your lips together in a gentle kiss.

Everything feels more intense now. It's a simple touch, but it warms your whole body. You leave your fingers at the nape of her neck as you slide your tongue against hers, and you both sigh with the touch.

It feels so good to kiss Wanda, it warms your whole body from head to toe, but remembering that you are in a hospital bed, just as a familiar warmth begins to form at the tip of your stomach when Wanda's hand squeezes the fabric of your shirt and her tongue moves against yours slowly, you sigh as you break the kiss.

You smile at the image of Wanda's swollen lips and ajar, dark eyes.

"Why did you stop?" she asks breathlessly, her voice husky. You raise your eyebrows in amusement.

"Baby, our families and friends are in the next room." You clarify and Wanda mumbles, coming closer to rest her forehead on yours. Her hand squeezed the fabric before adorning your t-shirt, her fingers on your skin making you shiver slightly. "Behave."

Wanda giggles mischievously, pecking your lips before moving away. You feel your body relax completely as you gaze into her emerald eyes, but the moment is broken when your friends are back in the room.

Ignoring the hissing and the giggles, you tuck yourself into bed so that Wanda can snuggle up next to you.

Things are going to be different now, you know. But something tells you that as long as you have Wanda's hand in yours, you'll be fine.

//-//-//-//-//-////-//-//-//-//-////-//-//-//-//-//

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drarrily-we-row-along · 3 years

Text

Day 111: Smile

"Auror Potter! Auror Potter!" the wizarding press started shouting the instant the doors to the Wizengamot opened following the trial, and Draco watched as Harry's shoulders stiffened. "Smile for the cameras!" one witch shouted.

"Tell us about the case, Auror Potter!"

"How did you catch Hollister?"

"What's the status on your relationship with Ginny Weasley?"

"Smile!"

He watched as Harry carefully put on a mask of indifference, making his face pleasant and amiable in the way that only someone who has spent years in the public eye is able to do.

Harry held up a hand, "Thank you for your interest in this case. We're asking that you respect the Griffiths Family's privacy as they go through the aftermath of this harrowing ordeal. Alden Hollister has been brought to justice; I will leave it to the court reporter to give you more of the details."

The reporters started in shouting at him once more, asking all sorts of questions both professional and personal.

"Sorry," he said, "If you'll excuse us please. Auror Malfoy and I have had a very difficult few days and we're long overdue for some rest," he added, chuckling amiably at them. "Thank you," he nodded. "Good night."

Without waiting for anything else, Draco reached out and grasped Harry's elbow and apparated them out of there and back to the apparition point just outside the Ministry. They had to apparate home separately, Merlin knew the press would have a field day if they knew the full truth about the nature of their relationship.

(Read more below the cut)

Members of the press were waiting by that apparation point as well, Draco watched a tremor of unease sluice up Harry's back. He was sure that he wouldn't have suspected a thing if not for how long he had been watching Harry Potter. Sometimes he wondered if he knew Harry better than Harry knew himself.

Harry held up a hand but Draco beat him to the punch this time. "Move," he snapped, pushing his way through the press but keeping Harry half a step ahead of him so they couldn't suck him in. "Auror Potter's already given an interview to your insipid colleagues. The DMLE and the Wizengamot will be issuing official statements within the hour, I suggest you wait for them."

They were followed into the lobby but fortunately the reporters couldn't come any further and within a few moments they were ensconced in the relative safety of the elevator.

Once they got inside, Harry leaned back against the back wall and let his head fall foward while Draco hit the button to their floor before joining him.

"Thanks," Harry murmured.

"Don't mention it," Draco replied, reaching across the gap between them and hooking their pinkies together.

He released his finger the floor before theirs and stepped away, "What do you still have to do?" he asked.

"You're submitting the report, right?"

Draco nodded, "It's just about done. I'll need a few minutes to finish."

"I just have to straighten up my desk, then. I'll head home first."

The elevator dinged and the door opened onto their floor, Draco gave Harry a little nod and they stepped out.

Harry was done straightening his desk and putting things away in ten minutes and he stood and stretched before patting Draco congenially on the shoulder. "Nice work, Malfoy," he said. "I'll see you in two days. Enjoy your couple of days of recovery," he added.

"Thanks, Potter," he replied. "You, too."

He didn't let himself watch Harry leave, didn't let himself look at his retreating form to analyze what he was feeling and thinking. No, he went back to finishing his report and after another fifteen minutes he was done as well. He dropped the report in Robbard's mailbox and headed for the apparition point, knowing that Harry would have used the floo network to avoid as many reporters as possible.

Fortunately, the reporters left him alone for the most part and he reached the apparation point without incident. A heartbeat later he was standing in their entry way, breathing in the comforting scent of home, the warmth seeping into his bones and washing away all of the tension and stress.

He kicked off his shoes, tucked his bag into the closet, and hung up his cloak before turning and heading into the kitchen. Harry was standing over the hob, cooking chicken tikka masala by the smell of it, and that told Draco everything his needed to know about how draining this case had been on Harry.

Harry only cooked after a case when he was especially frustrated, when he was desperate to care for someone, to fix the hurts he was able to, to heal. He ached with how much he loved the other man.

"Hey," he murmured as he wrapped his arms around Harry's waist and hooked his chin over his shoulder. "Smells good."

Harry leaned into him, "Good," he replied, setting the wooden spoon down and turning his head to press a quick kiss to Draco's lips. "How are you?" he asked softly.

"Tired," Draco replied honestly.

Harry hummed and turned back to his rice, pulling down the jar of jasmine and adding some. "Me too."

"I'm going to open a bottle of wine," he said, pressing a kiss to Harry's shoulder. "White okay?"

"Sure," the other man replied, giving him a worn, weary smile.

Draco opened the wine and set the table, getting everything ready while Harry finished preparing the food.

"Dinner's ready," Harry said, bringing over the rice and chicken tikka masala, and a batch of naan that he'd had under stasis for a moment like this.

"Thanks," Draco replied and the first part of dinner was quiet, companionable, like it always was.

Then, once Harry was almost done with his first helping he started to talk. "Godric, I hate those vultures," he grumbled before taking a sip of his wine. "Can you imagine how heartless you have to be to stand outside of a court to ambush someone after the kind of case we just finished?"

"They're awful," Draco agreed.

"I always wish I could tell them to fuck off," he added, shaking his head.

"What a sight that would be," he said with a laugh. "I'd give my entire vault at Gringotts to see it. Can you imagine their faces?"

Harry laughed too, "It sure would be something." But then after a moment he said, "What's happened to me?"

"What?" Draco asked, panic spearing through his chest. "What's wrong?"

He shook his head, "No, nothing like that," he said, soothingly. "Sorry. It's just," he paused as though he was trying to put his thoughts in order. "When I was seventeen I would have told them to piss off in an instant. I would have told them that they were heartless, soulless leeches without hesitation."

"You've just learned to be more diplomatic," Draco replied, tearing off another piece of naan to soak up more of the tikka masala.

"But why?" Harry asked. "I'm sick of it. It's exhausting."

Draco nodded, "I don't doubt it. But I'm sure even you would get in trouble for telling off the press like that. You are the Ministry's Golden Boy, after all. You've got quite an image to uphold."

"Why do we do this job, Draco?" he asked suddenly.

Draco blinked, their conversations after a case usually centered around the case itself and Harry's guilt for not being fast enough, clever enough, etc. "Well, when we started, you wanted to catch bad guys, save people, the works. And I wanted to redeem myself, do some good for once, and piss off my father."

Harry swallowed down the remainder of his glass of wine, "I hate it."

"What?"

"Being an Auror," he said. "The only time I'm ever happy is when I'm with you, the only time I feel like I'm actually me is when I'm with you." He shook his head, "I don't know how I became this person. How I became someone who could put on a fake smile and be polite to people who are such arse holes."

"What are you saying?"

He blew out a breath, "I want to stop." Running his fingers through his hair he said, "I don't want to do this anymore."

"Alright," Draco said, covering Harry's hand with his own. "We'll quit tomorrow."

"We?" he asked.

He nodded, "Ninety percent of the reason that I am still an auror is to keep an eye on you."

Harry leaned in to kiss him, both of them smiling so widely that it made kissing rather difficult. "What'll we do?" Harry asked.

Draco shrugged, "Let's not rush into anything."

"Alright," Harry agreed, bringing Draco's hand to his lips and pressing a kiss to his wrist. "I'm sure whatever we decide on will be good, as long as we're together."

"I love you," Draco murmured.

Harry smiled and squeezed his hand, "I love you, too."

And even though he didn't quite know what tomorrow would bring, he knew that everything would be okay.

---------

Day 110: Rough | Day 112: Intimacy

#100 Drarry Drabbles in 100 Days #established relationship #auror partners #love #drarry #drarry ficlet #drarry drabbles #fluff #my writing #secret relationship

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weighty-ghosts · 3 years

Text

‘Stolen Kisses’ (wolfstar)

Stolen Kisses, by weightyghosts

“It felt like there was a constant tension in the air, an anticipation, like they were hanging in the balance, waiting for something to push them in the right direction. The problem was, Remus didn’t know which direction was the right one.”

Rating: Teen

Word count: 2706

Pairing: Remus x Sirius

Published: March 3, 2021

Warnings: None

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29811711

“I can’t believe you’ve never let us visit before!”

“He’s been keeping the muggles all to himself, I tell you.”

“The height of betrayal!”

Remus rolled his eyes at his ridiculous friends as they strolled down the main road of the quaint village near his family’s house, feeling lazy and languid with the summer sun beating down on them.

“Muggles are brilliant,” James stated, his voice full of wonder as he stared with open fascination at everything there was to see. “I mean, look, look!” He stopped to point at the window of an appliance store, and Sirius peeked curiously over his shoulder, “What even is that?”

“It’s a dishwasher, James,” Remus patiently informed him.

“Wow… Brilliant, I tell you! The things muggles invent!”

“James!” Remus admonished as James’ voice had been rising to a shout, “Keep it down! What was rule #3 when I said you could visit?”

James looked back at him sheepishly and the three boys recited the third rule Remus had laid out in his last letter to them.

“‘Don’t break the International Statute of Secrecy and force the Ministry to obliviate my neighbours,’” they quoted in chorus.

“That’s right,” Remus nodded, “Now behave or I won’t show you the toy store.”

“No, ” Peter whined, “I want to find out what a kazoo is!”

James blinked at Peter, then leaned in to Sirius to ask under his breath, “The bloody hell is a kazoo?”

“Merlin if I know,” Sirius shrugged, “Wormtail?”

“I just said I don’t know!”

“We’ll be good, Moony,” Sirius said to Remus with an angelic smile as they set off again down the street, “Don’t worry.”

There were a lot of things Remus had worried about when James had insisted he, Sirius, and Peter were coming to stay at the Lupin’s for a week in August, but getting into trouble wasn’t one of them; he knew it would happen regardless. Remus was more concerned about Sirius. More specifically, his inescapable feelings for Sirius.

Something had changed over the course of their sixth year at Hogwarts, and at first Remus thought it was a result of what Sirius had done the year prior; their friendship was strained and rocky for a long time afterwards, but eventually, it somehow brought them closer. The closer they got, the more Remus realized just how different his relationship with Sirius was than with anyone else.

By the end of last term, Remus could hardly stand to be alone with him. It felt like there was a constant tension in the air, an anticipation, like they were hanging in the balance, waiting for something to push them in the right direction. The problem was Remus didn’t know which direction was the right one.

“Let’s stop in here,” he said suddenly, desperate for a distraction, and gestured to a corner store they were walking by. “I’ll get us some lemonades.”

“Thank Merlin, it’s hot as dragon’s breath out here,” Peter complained, pulling on the collar of his shirt to try and get some air on his skin.

Remus held the door to the shop open as the others shuffled through, and Sirius winked at him as he passed. “Such a gentleman, Moony.”

“Who said chivalry is dead?” Remus replied, walking in after him, and if Remus’ cheeks were a little pink, it must have been from the sun; certainly not from Sirius winking at him.

Peter and James had quickly disappeared down one of the aisles, and Remus found himself wandering around with Sirius.

“Do you actually know what all this stuff is?” Sirius inquired, squinting at the muggle items on the shelves.

“Yes,” Remus laughed, “Of course.” There was something tugging at his heart at the sight of Sirius in such mundane surroundings; he was so out of place here, with his magic practically radiating off of him, and yet, Remus felt like it suited him, like he could naturally fit in if he wanted to.

“I reckon James was wrong,” Sirius mused, breaking through Remus’ thoughts, as he reached out to pick something up from a shelf. “I think muggles are barmy. I mean, who would ever want beans in a can?” He showed the can to Remus as if it were an offensive old shoe. “Or corn! Why is there corn in a can, Moony?”

Remus couldn’t help the bubbles of laughter that escaped him as Sirius showed him more and more banal pieces of muggle life.

“No!” Sirius gasped, “No, tell me I’m not looking at canned tuna!”

Remus swallowed his giggles and adopted a somber demeanor, “I wouldn’t want to lie to you.”

“Moony! That is horrifying! How does a fish even fit in that tiny thing? This is absolute madness.”

“I know you’re used to food magically appearing in front of you, Padfoot,” Remus mocked, his voice dripping with condescension, “Literally by magic, but the other half of the world has to cook it for themselves.”

“I know that!” he cried indignantly, then raised his chin in the air, “I know all about cooking, thank you. James’ mum and I cooked scones the other day.”

“Baked. You baked scones.”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s what I said, but aren’t you impressed?”

“I am,” Remus acknowledged, pretending to focus on a box of candy rings, “I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Moony.”

Remus stilled and looked back at Sirius, who seemed to be standing closer to him than a moment ago. There was something about the way he spoke that made Remus think they were talking about two different things.

“Really,” Remus quipped, trying to keep his voice steady, “You think after six and a half years I don’t know everything about you?”

“I know you don’t.”

“You’re saying there are hidden depths to Sirius Black?” Remus certainly felt as if he were losing his footing and tumbling into those same depths.

“I can’t help that I’m a complex, intriguing person, Moony,” Sirius purred, his head tilted to the side.

“I suppose-”

“LADS!”

They jumped a foot in the air as James whipped around the corner with Peter in tow. Remus noticed Sirius taking a significant step backwards; he hadn’t realized they’d been leaning in so close together.

“What is it, Prongs?” Sirius asked with a smile on his face, though it seemed a little forced.

“Have you seen the crisps aisle?”

“No, we were busy looking at cans of fish.”

“What? That’s nasty- no,” James cringed but shook the unpleasant image out of his head and rallied with enthusiasm, “You have to come see all the different kinds of crisps. Pads, remember crisps? Remember we had them last summer?”

“I remember.”

“There’s a barbecue flavour! I don’t even know what barbecue is but I have to taste it! Come on!”

Sirius sent a quick smile Remus’ way and let James tug him back to the wonder that was the crisps aisle. Peter also smiled at Remus (he was always happy when James was happy), and they followed the other two boys, drawn by the excited noises they were making. Well, James was making.

“Salt and vinegar, Pads! We have to try it. Get one of each-”

“You should send some to Lily!” Peter suggested eagerly, then dropped his voice, “She’s muggleborn; I bet she loves crisps.”

James dropped the bags he was holding and grabbed Peter’s face, planting a big, sloppy kiss on each of his cheeks, much to his delight.

“Brilliant, Pete! Yes! We’ll get one of each for us, and one of each for Lily-”

“Er...James?” Remus asked hesitantly, “How are you planning on paying for all that? Did you bring any muggle money?”

James’ face fell like Remus had just told him his favourite broom had been smashed to pieces.

“I left it in my bag at your place. Oh, no! This is a disaster.”

“Relax, mate,” Sirius placated, then turned to Remus, “Can’t we take the stuff now and come back with the money later?”

“It doesn’t work like that,” Remus chuckled, shaking his head at Sirius’ ignorance.

“Well…” Sirius was looking at James’ dejected face, and Remus could see the cogs in his mind turning, thinking of possible solutions to their problem. “We could-”

“No hexing the shopkeeper!” Remus quickly interjected, peering over the shelves to the middle-aged woman reading a magazine behind the cash register.

“Alright, alright,” Sirius rolled his eyes, “We’ll just have to come back later, eh James?”

“I guess,” James sighed dramatically.

“But in the meantime…” Sirius paused meaningfully, and James’ eyes began to light up at the mischievous grin on Sirius’ face, “How about a game?” Remus groaned inwardly and prayed that whatever plan he was concocting didn’t involve breaking the law; muggle or magic.

“I dare you to knick something,” Sirius challenged.

Remus should have known better.

“Knick what?” James asked, his calculating eyes darting to the items around them.

“Anything. But just one item.”

“Done,” James accepted easily, “But you have to do it too.”

“Done.”

“Wormy? Moony? Care to join in?”

Sirius laughed. “As if Moony is going to steal-”

“I’m in,” Remus announced. He smiled at Sirius’ dumbfounded expression as James convinced Peter, and Remus leaned in closer to him to whisper, “I’m a complex and intriguing person too, Padfoot. There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

He watched as Sirius’ eyes flicked down to his mouth, and Remus bit his bottom lip as his stomach contracted with a sudden, almost painful intensity.

“Alright!” James pronounced loudly, and Remus and Sirius jumped apart again, “Off you go, and let’s meet in the alley beside that dish-cleaner-”

“Dishwasher.”

“-Dishwasher shop,” James finished, and immediately snatched up a small bag of crisps, shoved it under his shirt, and skipped out of the store while thanking the shopkeeper for her excellent service.

Remus and Peter were left staring at the closing door with their mouths agape.

Sirius was smirking with pride and amusement, then turned to Peter. “Go on, Wormy,” Sirius nudged him, “Do it quickly before the nice muggle lady gets suspicious and calls the muggle Aurors on you.”

Peter gulped audibly, sweat starting to drip down his temples, and turned frantically down the next aisle.

“I don’t know why I’m friends with you, honestly.”

Sirius grinned at Remus. “Because life is always interesting when I’m around, Moons.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Remus teased, his stomach doing another flip at the other boy’s brilliant smile. They began to meander through the shop as nonchalantly as possible, and again Remus felt like he was standing at a crossroads with Sirius; torn between two paths, two possible directions with two different outcomes, and someone had to make a choice before it was too late.

“So,” Sirius stopped abruptly and turned to face Remus, “Have you decided?”

“What?” Remus asked sharply, having a wild thought that Sirius had somehow read his mind.

“Have you decided what you’re going to knick?”

“Oh, right, maybe-”

“You going to pay for that, then?”

Sirius and Remus swiftly stood on their tiptoes to look over to where Peter was frozen in front of the door to the shop, beet red, with a package of black licorice sticking out of his back pocket. The woman was leaning casually over the cash register, gazing at Peter with a mixture of exasperation and entertainment.

“I-I’m sorry!” Peter squeaked, as he whipped the licorice out and threw it on the counter, “I’m sorry! I don’t want- I’m not- I- Sorry!” And he ran out the door.

Sirius burst out laughing, and Remus tried to shush him so as not to draw attention, although he knew the woman was already watching them closely.

“Hush, Sirius!” Remus' voice shook as he tried to contain his own laughter.

“Poor Pete,” Sirius crowed, wiping a fake tear from his eye, “He’s never very good under pressure is he?”

“You are a terrible person.”

“Good thing you love me anyway,” he grinned.

Remus watched as Sirius realized what he’d said, his cheeks flushing pink and his smile wavering, and he tried to lean coolly against a shelf of sweets. Remus wished he knew what to say, although he was pretty sure his throat was closing up on him so he wouldn’t have been able to anyway. They stood awkwardly looking at their feet, waiting again, waiting for a push in the right direction.

“You know, it’s now or never, Moony.”

Remus’ head whipped up and he stared into Sirius’ striking eyes.

“N-now or never?”

“Yeah, you better choose quick,” Sirius explained, his voice low, and Remus once again felt as if they were talking about something else. “What are you doing to take, Moony?”

Remus didn’t have to ask Sirius what he would steal; he had snatched up Remus’ heart long ago. With that realization, he knew what to do; Remus had to be the one to choose which direction was right, and he had to be the one to push them towards it.

He glanced around them for a moment, then slowly stepped up in front of Sirius, bringing them almost toe to toe. He reached forward, his eyes sliding from Sirius’ to the shelf over his shoulder, and he heard Sirius’ breath catch as he leaned close, close enough to feel the warmth from each other’s bodies, and smell the sweat on each other’s skin.

Remus was acutely aware of Sirius’ eyes on him as he kept moving until they were almost cheek to cheek, and he turned his head at the last second, capturing Sirius’ lips in a quick kiss that tasted like honey and summer.

He pulled back, grinning at Sirius’ shocked face, and turned away abruptly, leaving Sirius standing there stunned. He floated over to the refrigerators, feeling like he was flying on the fastest of brooms, and grabbed four lemonades. He brought them to the counter, where the woman eyed him with suspicion, before smiling knowingly when Remus overpaid for the drinks and told her to keep the change.

Sirius, still slightly dazed, followed Remus out of the shop and around the corner to the alley where James and Peter were waiting. Peter was leaning against the wall, trying to calm his breathing, and James was patting his shoulder comfortingly, biting his cheek to try and stop from laughing.

“He’ll be fine,” James reassured.

“Have a lemonade, Pete,” Remus said, holding one out to him, which Peter accepted gratefully. Remus handed a bottle to James, then to Sirius, who blinked up at him as he accepted his drink, his face soft and vulnerable.

“So?” James inquired, “What’d you steal, then?”

“Er,” Sirius cleared his throat and looked over at James, “Muggle chewing gum.”

“Nice. And you, Moony?”

Sirius glanced at Remus nervously, but Remus simply put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a chocolate bar, holding it up for them to see, smiling wryly.

“Ha!” James laughed, “Of course.” He threw his arm around Peter to steady him, and guided him out of the alley, muttering affirmations as they started down the street towards the toy shop Remus had promised to take them to.

“When did you grab that?” Sirius quietly asked when they were alone, walking at a distance from the other two.

“When I was stealing something else.”

He looked over at Sirius to see him smiling almost shyly, something Remus had rarely seen before, and he knew he would never tire of it; that private smile, one that was just for him.

“It can’t have been better than the chocolate you swiped, though,” Sirius quipped.

“It might’ve been,” he teased.

“Probably difficult to compare,” Sirius tapped his chin thoughtfully, his eyes full of mischief, “When you only had a quick taste... Sounds like we should do a more thorough test, Moony.”

“Yeah,” Remus agreed, his mind reeling and cheeks flushing at the implications, “Yeah, I think we should, Padfoot”

Remus brushed his hand against Sirius’, leaving a tingling sensation along his skin as they hurried to catch up to James and Peter. He was warm all over, not just from the brilliant sun high above them, and couldn’t wipe the smile off his face, feeling confident that the path he was finally leading them down was the right one.

#wolfstar #wolfstar fanfiction #ficbyweightyghosts #wolfstar fluff #fanfic #marauders #padfoot x moony #remus lupin #sirius black #james potter #peter pettigrew #summer boys #boys in love #first kiss #harry potter

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