#I wrote this last night and before I spelled checked I was everywhere

[ff15trashgoldenslumbers]

Quick! Felix Natalis

You sat on the large patio before the resort, checking your phone for any kind of update of where the guys were. You still had a little before dusk, but you wanted them to get there in enough time. Well one of them mattered more than the others. You personal ray of sunshine!

When you had suddenly been called away by the family a few days ago, due to a few troubles at the family business, you did everything within your power to make absolutely certain that you would be home for your Prompto’s birthday. Yet unfortunately that did not work, so instead since you couldn’t go to the sunshine you decided to bring the sunshine to you.

“Where are you guys?” You muttered leg bouncing with anticipation, you had convinced your entire family to leave the estate to you and your friends for the next 72 hours, with the promise of being certain that you wouldn’t trash the place besides, a Prince staying on grounds would bring in some extra money.

Your thoughts turned back to the birthday boy that had yet to show up. Prompto had confided in you that he had never really had a birthday party, as his family was hardly ever home to celebrate with him. So he mostly would cook one of his favorite foods and then watch TV or play one of the latest games that were released. Your heart tore when you heard him say that! So you were absolutely determined to show him that you were happy with the fact that he had a birthday!

Only to beam as you saw the familiar grill of that black car come into view. Jumping from your perch you began to wave them down, a bright smile on your face. As the car pulled up, you couldn’t stop the giggle, you had asked the others to keep this hush-hush for Prompto.

“The blindfolds a nice touch.” You managed between your giggles, as everyone climbed from the car. Everyone but Prompto who had to be lifted and taken from the car by Gladiolus and sat before you.

“Only way the runt wouldn’t have known,” Gladiolus stated, as you took Prompto’s hand and begun to litter his cheeks with kisses. “Wanna give it 10 seconds?”

“ Chocobae!” Prompto called loudly, throwing open his arms as he hugged you tightly, returning your kisses as best he could with the blindfold on.

“Happy Birthday, Pom-kin!” You purred, taking his hand before leading him, still blindfolded, and the guys into the large doors behind you. Once inside the foyer, you reached up removing the blindfold from those beautiful blue eyes, before stepping back opening your arms. “Welcome everyone to Tres Choco Estate!”

Prompto sputtered, this place was the best place to get the perfect Chocobo experience, it was sold out to nearly everyone! With a 10-year wait list! How even!?

Gladiolus let out a low whistle, “How’d you manage to pull this one off, Y/N?”

You smiled pointing towards a portrait on the wall, “Grandad and Granny would do absolutely anything for their favorite and only Grandkid.”

Prompto moved over to the large portrait, before noticing the little girl in the foofy yellow dress holding an equally as fluffy chick, “Is that you?”

“Don’t look at that part!” You gasped as he rose his camera taking a picture. Moving over to drag your boyfriend away from the picture. “Grandad left only a handful of the staff with us, they’ll take your bags to your rooms, and I'll show you guys around.” You smiled holding Prompto’s hand as you moved them out a side door. “We’ve got the whole place to ourselves, Granny and Grandad said to make yourselves at home since you’re family!”

“Their hospitality is very welcome, do send our regards,” Ignis replied, following you through the ranch style of the estate.

You turned to Prompto expecting to see him with his camera up as he had been so silent. Yet instead you were greeted by the blonde seeming to be on the verge of bursting, he was actually physically vibrating with excitement and having to keep it in, so you nudged his side to get him back to Eos, “Hey, wanna see the Chocobos?”

The smile you got in return made you see heaven, “You mean it?!”

“Mmhm, they should be still causing mayhem.” You replied, “Sometimes they hang out closer to the house, every so often we’ll get a few chicks hanging out in the house, spoiled little things.”

You moved the boys through your childhood playground, only to come to a large housing area with a few pens yet other than that, it was acres and acres of grass and forest but still no Chocobo’s insight.

“Is that one okay?” Noctis asked.

Your eyes turned to where the Prince was pointing, only to gasp as you moved over to the fence, “Pinto! Pinto you crazy birb, get up we’ve got guests!” You called to the white bird laying on his back with his legs in the air. You quickly turned to the others, “He’s fine, he does this all the time. Mostly to get attention.”

Prompto chuckled as he watched you continue to yell at the large bird, telling him to get up. Only to watch as you picked up a small twig before tossing it toward the bird, watching it bounce off the bird’s stomach. “Are you sure he’s okay?”

“Yep, he’s just being a drama queen.” You grunted, before climbing the fence, moving over to the large bird, crouching beside him. “Pinto, you’re being embarrassing, get up you goofy birb.”

Prompto couldn’t help but smile as the bird suddenly rolled over, before flailing its wings at you, then bouncing before you as you scratched his neck and chest, “Is he always like this?”

“Yeah, I promise he’s the only one, everyone else is the sweetest.” You called, moving towards the gate to let them in, “I’ll call them over.”

Everyone stood waiting as you pulled a whistle from your pocket blowing into it. Only for a stampede of roughly 20 or so Chocobos appeared, standing before you as they ‘Kweh’ed and waited for a response or command tilting their heads this way and that.

Prompto’s gazed turned to you as you called his name, holding out your hand. Taking your hand, he moved as you pulled him forward before a yellow Chocobo with bright blue eyes. This was honestly his first time seeing one in person, or touching one, so when you stepped back he panicked a little.

“Sweetie?” He called, glancing over his shoulder to you standing slightly behind him.

“It’s fine, hold your hand up.”

Prompto held his hand up, watching the bird tilt it’s head this way and that before moving forward, pressing its face against the blonde’s hand with a coo. Prompto turned to you beaming, as you told him that she liked him. Only for the photographer to gasp as he was nuzzled by the large bird across the cheek.

“Oh, she already thinks your family.” You cooed, scratching the bird’s back motioning for the others to come forward.

“I bet it’s the hair.” Noctis chuckled as a black one begun to nuzzle at him, quickly followed by a blue one preening his hair.

“My hair does not look like a Chocobo butt.” Prompto gasped, completely offended, despite the Chocobo who had quickly begun to preen his hair as well.

“I don’t know,” Gladiolus smirked a red one refusing to let him stop petting them.

Ignis shifted his glasses as one of the lady Chocobo knocked them off while nuzzling him, “It would explain, Y/N affections towards you.”

Prompto turned to you with mock horror, “That’s not true, is it?”

“I mean…” You giggled playfully, only to laugh louder at the offended gasp he gave you.

“Well at least someone loves me for who I am.” Prompto pouted playfully, as he begun receiving cuddles and nuzzles from the other birds.

You allowed the men to play with the birds for a little while longer, before whistling loudly drawing the larger birds attention, motioning them towards you. “Stand back everyone, Pari kiss kiss Prompto.”

Prompto stared in shock as the bird that had first accepted him leaned forward pressing her beak to a freckled cheek, with a kissing noise before moving over to you. “Playtimes over?”

“Nah, you have one more surprise.” You replied, moving over to him as you removed his camera, his phone, and wallet before handing them over to others. “You’ll want to stand right here, and try not to look like food.” You explained, before moving back over to the others and the Chocobo who were all waiting in anticipation for the next surprise.

“Sweetie?”

“Just give me one second.” You smiled before turning towards the large housing enclosure, letting out a loud call of, “BAH-BES!”

Prompto hardly had time to brace himself before he was toppled over by quite a few round fluffy little Chocobo chicks. Some pecking at his shoelaces, another nuzzling at his face and arms, a few were even testing their little kicks on the blonde. He didn’t care that he was crying, or the coo of babies falling from his lips as he began to pet as many as he could.

“The babies are always the most energetic and don’t ever respond to the whistle.” You explained, scooping one up before plopping it on his chest. “Happy Birthday, Prompto.”

Prompto never celebrated his birthday, but with someone like you in his life, he had to admit October 24 did have some perks.

[malleux]

PART THREE PART THREE PART THREE

spell [3]. | corpse husband

part one ; part two

-> Pairing: Corpse Husband x Fem!Reader

-> Genre: Fluff

-> Warnings: Anxiety, Self Doubt, Cursing, Hate Comments

-> A/N: here’s the long awaited part three! it’s definitely longer than the last chapters, but genuinely thank you all for 300 followers in literally 4 days lol. also, i wrote this under the small assumption that corpse’s main love language is physical touch!

corpse husband taglist is closed!

You didn’t realize that it was possible to shake so much. You were practically panicking- just from standing in front of an apartment door, ready to knock and meet the man who changed your life.

You’d woken up this morning bright and early. The Facetime call was still on with Corpse and small snores could be heard from his line. You had prayed that he’d gotten at least more than an hour, but doubted it as you hung up and sent a message about when you’d be leaving.

Corpse soon messaged back saying that he was awake as you finally finished packing- you’d stopped last night when he called- so you got in your car and drove the two hours it took to get to San Diego.

So now you stood in front of his apartment, practically trembling. Why you were so anxious, you didn’t know. You’d been talking to him for how long now? And it was never awkward.

But things could easily change when you met him in real life, couldn’t they?

You shook those thoughts out of your head and mustered up enough courage to knock on Corpse’s door, already becoming out of breath from such a simple gesture.

A crash sounded from in the apartment, followed by a small ‘fuck’ that made your heart flip. Soon after, the door opened and you looked up, finally coming eye to eye with him. You couldn’t help the grin that stretched across your face, mirroring his own as he smiled at you as well.

“Hi.” You internally smacked yourself for not saying more, but that’s truly all that could come out of your mouth at the moment.

“Hey. You’re uh- you’re so much prettier in real life.” Corpse responded, looking nearly everywhere but you.

You flushed. “And you’re super attractive, but I already suspected that.”

You could tell he was taken aback by your compliment because he suddenly became even more shy, silently moving out of the doorway and gesturing for you to enter.

“I’m going to film again with everyone in a few minutes, but first I can show you my bedroom so you can make yourself comfortable.” Corpse said after he closed the door. “You can sleep in there and I’ll stay on the couch-“

“Absolutely not.” You interjected, “I’m not kicking you out of your bed.”

“But you’re the guest and I’m not about to let you sleep on my couch.”

“And you’re the owner of this apartment and I’m not going to take over your space like that. I’m sleeping on the couch.”

Corpse groaned and reached his arm out towards you. You thought he was going to just shove your shoulder away for being stubborn, but instead he wrapped his arm completely around your shoulders, pulling you into his side as a hug. You grinned and turned, giving him a full hug and resting your cheek against his chest as his chin laid on your head.

“I’m for real glad you came to visit.” He murmured into your hair, squeezing you a bit tighter before letting go. “Do you wanna stream with me tonight or just chill and watch?”

꧁꧂

“Corpse is streaming Among Us again with Sean, Felix, Rae, Sykkuno, Dave, and Leslie!”

“Where’s Y/N? I miss #CorpseY/N !!”

Twitter was truly your go-to platform when you were bored. You’d been scrolling on it for about thirty minutes now, laying on a small couch that Corpse had in his gaming room.

The man himself was sitting across the room at his desk, talking loudly as he defended himself from being accused as Imposter.

You continued to scroll, feeling a little anxious that somehow Corpse just magically knew that you were looking through your ship tag with him. These were your only worried thoughts until you went past your first… unsavory comment of the day.

“Y/N isn’t playing with them again today. Maybe she finally got the hint that they don’t want her around.”

You rolled your eyes and ignored it, but couldn’t help the rather loud sigh that escaped your lips.

“Hey, guys, I’m going to mute the mic for a second. Everything’s good, don’t worry.” Corpse said into his mic before turning around and facing you. “Is everything okay?”

Turning the phone off and laying it on your chest, you contemplated telling Corpse the truth. He’d just worry about you and you didn’t want that. But he already was worried about you- he’d muted Among Us just to check on you.

“Why are people so mean to others?”

Corpse studied you for a minute before patting his lap. “Come here.”

You quirked an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“You're excused. Now come here.”

You stood up and cautiously walked towards the man, who sat before you expectantly. He playfully rolled his eyes and grabbed your wrist, pulling you into his lap sideways. Your back rested against one arm of his gaming chair while your legs draped across the other.

Corpse had one arm reaching around your back, placing his fingers on the keyboard while the other rested on top of your knees, grabbing the computer mouse. You laid your head on Corpse’s shoulder, resting in the crook of his neck.

“It’s in that shipping hashtag, isn’t it? I swear- whoever says that shit about you is dead wrong. Tell me if it gets worse, I’ll put them back in their fucking place. Nobody gets to decide who I’m with or who’s worthy of me.”

You only nodded and closed your eyes, breathing in Corpse’s cologne as he unmuted his mic once more to defend his honor, much like he was ready to defend you.

꧁꧂

Your body ached.

As you had argued your first day with Corpse, you’d been sleeping on his couch for four days now. The first night was okay- his couch was rather comfortable, but it didn’t compare to a bed. Now, your back, shoulders, and neck were killing you.

Every day, 7am would roll around and you would wake up, the soreness preventing you from sleeping in longer.

Usually, you would go into Corpse’s room and talk to him as he messed around on his laptop while sitting in his bed, but today when you entered, he was finally sleeping. It was the first time you’d seen him rest since you’d arrived and you quietly left, not wanting to disturb his much-needed sleep.

You made your way to his small kitchen, pulling out the few groceries that he had in his refrigerator to make breakfast.

Corpse often ate fast foods and takeout, and apologized earlier in the week for not having much to eat. You reassured him that it was okay- that him just letting you visit was enough- and now, you were determined to make it up to him with the best breakfast in bed ever.

You were halfway through making breakfast when the soft thump of feet echoed in the doorway before a chin planted itself on your shoulder.

“Whatcha cookin?” You practically shuddered at Corpse’s morning voice before suddenly gasping and shoving him out of the kitchen.

“No! No!” You pushed him back to his room, “Stay! Go back to bed, now!”

Right as you turned to go back to the kitchen, Corpse caught your wrist and pulled you down onto the bed with him. You practically squealed as you fell, making him laugh.

“Why? What’s going on?” He turned to face you with a teasing smile.

“I was making you breakfast in bed! I was gonna surprise you when you woke up, but you ruined it.” You pouted.

“Aw, poor baby.” His hand reached up and brushed a stray hair out of your face before he traced down your jawline, reaching your chin and using his finger to tilt it up. “I think I’ve got a better surprise, though.”

You quirked an eyebrow, but before you could say anything his lips were on yours. Your heart stopped, but you almost immediately melted into his kiss, bringing your own hand up to cup his cheek while his moved to rest on your waist.

Corpse soon propped himself up on his elbow, never once leaving your lips- just deepening the kiss. He smiled and gave you a few more pecks before finally pulling away and looking at you in adoration.

“Those little hate comments? They’re wrong. If anything, I don’t deserve you. You’ve still got me under a little spell and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Corpse, you deserve the world and I’d be honored to be the one to give it to you.”

“God, you’re perfect for me.”

You couldn’t say anything else. You could only lay beneath him, admiring the man who was now yours. Corpse leaned down again to capture you in another kiss, but you suddenly jerked away before you could lose yourself again.

“Shit, the pancakes!”

┎┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┒

spell taglist: @tanchosanke @paoisabelll @save-the-sky @yukinesekki98 @stephn-prkr @honestlyimstilllivinginthe90s @lustypielita @bi-andready-tocry @coruscaret

corpse taglist: @namjoons-crabssss @lookingforaplacetosleep @teenloves @princess00wifi @pillowjj @nvm-idgaf @creativedogs @wildflowerwhore @chillininahottub-withaghost @whyisquill @holosexualunicorn7000 @ourheavenlyemotions @corbins-kinda-smart @harryhighkey @sokkaspaintings @saturn2000 @a-dot-dev @bean04 @helena-way07 @tooturntashbash @locallolli @simonsbluee @redperson58 @reddeserths @annshit @corpsie-bby @emperor-pizza @vacaprincess @adorably-sweet-hufflepuff @rolls-and-rolex @supernovavision @bestgirlkonan @hughugh20 @theolwebshooter @johnjacobjingleheimerschmidt @shinyyoonie @milybones @propertyofdindjarin @qatiee @sunshineandrainyflowers @dontlookatmeidk @kxsmicsmain @corpsesgirl @witchybarb

┖┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┚

[garlicbreadfanatic]

Love is in the air

Remus stumbled down into the common room, in a brown sweater and pyjamas bottoms, yawning. He wanted to look for the book he had left down there last night, before Sirius had led him upstairs.

Marlene was on the couch, sleeping and huddled up against her girlfriend, Dorcas. Dorcas was awake, and looked at Remus with a smile,

"I didn't think that the house elves made decorations so gaudy for you Gryffindors." She whispered, and gestured to the paper chains in pink and red, strung around the common room, and the big dish of sweets, in heart shapes and wrapped in pink foil.

"And what, in the dungeons they place skulls everywhere and paint the walls with blood? " He smirked back, picking up his book.

Dorcas glared at him, and he held his hands up in, laughing quietly.

He snuck back into the dorm, enjoying the stillness of the place, rather than the usual chaos and laughter and rushing around.

Remus slipped back into his boyfriends bed, and Sirius turned to face him, half asleep.

"Moony... you're all cold. Why'd you leave?" Sirius stroked Remus's face, his voice a low grumble.

"Fetching my book..." Remus kissed his neck.

"Please use a silencing spell this time!" Peter called out from his own bed, and James burst out laughing.

"Oi! We aren't gonna.. what's so funny, Prongs?" Sirius called out menacingly, Remus with his head in his hands, shaking with laughter.

•••

They all raced each other down the stairs and into the hall, screaming and making incoherent comments as they went. They slid into their usual spot, flushed and grinning.

"Hello boys." Lily said, from behind a newspaper.

Marlene moved so she was opposite James, and started telling a story of a scandal surrounding a Quidditch match.

Sirius checked his eyeliner with a compact mirror, then practically crawled into his boyfriends lap. Peter gave them a scared glance, and tuned into Marlene's story.

"Jamie." Regulus said, with Pandora behind him, nodding at Remus and the girls, and rolling his eyes at his brother.

"Reggie!" James pulled him down next to him, into an embrace. Dorcas touched legs with Marlene, smiling.

"Hey, so I was looking at that book you lent me, and I found..." Pandora started, pulling out a paperback, Lily leaning over.

"The cards!" Mary yelled out, as a swarm of coloured envelopes flew into the hall. They started shooting around, flying down the length of the tables, looking for the recipient.

"Woah, looks like you're popular, Prongs." Sirius said, unfolding a letter from presumably Remus.

Regulus frowned at the pile for James, and grabbed one and teared it up.

"Reggie!" James exclaimed, wide eyed.

"Oi, I wrote one of those! " Marlene said, pointing with a sausage on her fork.

"Hey, hey..." James took Regulus' hands, looking him in his eyes.

Sirius glanced at the two, fixing his half up half down bun. Peter looked relieved that he hadn't got any cards, and Dorlene (coined by Lily) were giggling to themselves.

Regulus looked around, death staring anyone staring from afar.

"I just think they should know to back off."

" Moony... " Sirius said, reading the letter, "you're so cheesy."

Remus made an offended noise, "I am not!"

"You're not, it's lovely... It's..." Sirius trailed off, leaning to give him a kiss.

"Oh my god, Mary! You seem to have seduced a poet!" Lily burst out, clutching one of Mary's cards.

Mary laughed in answer, looking away.

Pandora pulled Reg away from James, who was shovelling down food.

"Stop being a pig, Prongs!" Remus groaned.

[broadstbroskis]

ivy- morgan rielly

a/n: i wrote a thing, don’t hate me. very much inspired by ivy from the absolutely incredible new tswift evermore album (you should listen to the whole thing if you havent already and def this song)

warnings: infidelity (it’s a central theme), angst (lots)

-----

The arm draped over her waist tightens just as Ophelia begins to move away. She bites her lip and closes her eyes and she feels Morgan bury his face in her hair, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Don’t go.” He whispers.

“I have to.” She wouldn’t. She’d stay here all night if she could. She’d stay until morning, she’d stay forever...but she can’t. “You know that.” It’s just as quiet, as if they’re both afraid of breaking the spell over them, but by now, they both know that prolonging the inevitable leads only to more pain, more difficulty leaving.

Morgan presses another kiss to the top of her head before rolling away; she feels the cold of his absence immediately, a loss that’s going to stay with her until she manages to find an escape to be with him again. 

Her clothes are scattered everywhere tonight, it seems, which merely means she feels Morgan’s eyes following her around his room as she gathers them. “Stop that.”

There’s the smallest of smiles of his face when she looks up at him, after pulling her sweater back on. “Stop looking at you? Never.” And she’s really supposed to be leaving, but how’s Ophelia not supposed to kiss him after that?

Morgan’s thumb strokes over her cheek after they break apart,  a gentle caress that expresses so much of all the things she knows he can’t-or won’t-say. “Text me when you get home, yeah?”

“I will.” Ophelia squeezes his hand gently, understanding the true message behind his words, the I love you, that’s just too much to say outright. And then, because it’s too much for her to actually say goodbye, she squeezes his hand once more, and then slips out of his room.

It’s dark still when she opens the door to her apartment a few floors down and the silence is deafening. By all accounts, it should be warmer and homier than the bachelor pad she just left. She’d put a lot of work and effort into making it a home, a place for a relationship to grow, to start a family. 

Right now, it just felt cold and unwelcoming, and Ophelia drops her keys on the table by the door in their usual spot, making a beeline for the master bathroom, not turning any lights on in the apartment until she makes it there. The sound of the shower finally drowns out the silence that’s ringing around her, stops her thoughts from running wild, and only when she steps inside does she let the tears fall.

-----

Ophelia blinks once, and then again, adjusting her eyes to the bright sun shining in through the windows. The other side of the bed is empty, but warm still, like it’s only been recently vacated, and she musters up the energy to climb out of bed and find her slippers before she wanders out into the kitchen.

“‘Morning.” Jon’s scrolling through his phone at the table, likely checking emails, or possibly moved onto his morning social media read thru, his coffee still steaming in front of him. “There’s more in the pot.”

“Thanks.” She returns the small smile he’d sent her and pours a mug for herself, settling in at the table next to him and taking a moment to get used to the usual silence. “When’d you get in last night?”

Jon hums for a second, like he’s thinking about it. “3, I think?”

“Jesus.” She shakes her head; she doesn’t need to look at the clock to know that it’s too early for him to be up and dressed to go back to the office already then. “You need to sleep more.”

Jon stands up with his mug and kisses the top of her head. “I’ll sleep when I’m dead.”

The thing is, she’s not sure he’s kidding. It’s an attitude that he shares with the rest of his firm, a top financial group filled with people just like Jon, always pushing themselves to do the absolute most. It’s not-she’d never begrudge him his success, but really, how well can he be taking care of himself when all he does is go to work, go to the gym, and travel for days at a time?

“That’ll be sooner than you think if you keep going on four hours of sleep.” Ophelia chides gently, standing to send him off.

Jon laughs. “I’ll be home early tonight; how’s that? We’ll go out somewhere for dinner and then come back to bed,” He waggles his eyebrows. “And then go to bed.”

“Hmm, I’ll believe it when I see it.” Ophelia says, and accepts the kiss he presses to her cheek on his way out the door.

(He doesn’t make it to dinner, but Ophelia's not shocked; she hadn’t bothered to change out of her gym clothes and orders takeout for herself instead.)

-----

Probably a long shot, but are you free at 3 to go see a house? Ophelia sends Jon the second their realtor confirms the showing, unsurprised when he sends back a thumbs down emoji. She sighs, and confirms with the realtor that she’ll be attending alone-again-and then scrolls around the neighborhood, looking at other houses for sale. If she’s going all the way out to Etobicoke, she may as well check out a few others while she’s there.

Showings confirmed, she dresses for the spin class she’s hitting first and makes her way downstairs, catching Morgan in the parking garage. “Hey.”

“Hey.” He smiles. He’s got a couple teammates with him, the only thing stopping her from burying her face in his neck and slipping her hands into his hoodie pocket. “How’s it going?”

“Good.” She answers truthfully. It’s been a couple days since they’ve talked, longer since she’s seen him, even just in passing like this; he’s been out of town a lot this month for games. “You happy to be home for a bit?”

“Yeah,” Morgan nods, meeting her eyes, and she hadn’t intended the question to be anything more than what it is, but she catches the double meaning in his answer right away. “I am.”

“Yeah.” She catches herself mindlessly agreeing with him, forgetting about the teammates standing with him watching their every move and smiling gently at Morgan, instead. “It’ll be nice.”

Someone coughs, lightly, but it’s enough to break the moment. She suspects, from the look on Morgan’s face, that whichever one of his friend’s had interrupted had done so on purpose, is putting some kind of story together, and she’s taking that as her cue to go. “I’ll talk to you soon, I’m sure. Catch you in the halls.” She tries to joke, but it falls flat, so she makes her goodbyes instead, and even though they’re not alone, it’s impossible not to reach out and brush her fingers against his arm for just the quickest of touches as she passes.

-----

“What do you think?” Ophelia can feel Pam studying her, but she bites her lip before she answers, knowing that she’s being an absolute pest.

“I just-I don’t really love it.” She says finally, and to her absolute credit, her realtor doesn’t even blink, even though this is the fifth house this afternoon she’s said that exact same thing about.

“What didn’t you love?”

What didn’t she love? Jesus, fucking everything. The bedrooms were too small, the kitchen was laid out terribly, the whole floor plan was a mess. Even petty little things, like the shape of the breakfast nook bothered her about this house. She explains her issues with the house, promising to make a list of what she’s absolutely looking for, and to send over any places she wants to take a look at, before slipping into her car and taking a deep breath.

There’s a text waiting for her from Jon. Going to be late at the office tonight, working on a pitch. Don’t wait up.

Another deep breath. She shoots off a response, a quick ok, and then swipes to another thread. Are you home?

Morgan’s response comes almost immediately. Yeah, just about to order dinner. You want in?

She does, absolutely. Be there in an hour.

Morgan has dinner waiting in takeout containers and plates ready, but Ophelia’s perfectly happy to ignore both of those in favor of pressing herself as close to him as she can and pushing up for a kiss. “Hi.” She says, a little breathlessly.

“I’m certainly not complaining, but what’d I do to deserve that?” He pulls her back in, entangling her fingers with his one hand and using the other to pull her closer. She loves when he holds her like this, keeps her so close that it feels like nothing can come between them, that nothing matters besides the two of them. 

She traces a pattern along his hand and feels him pull her in even more tightly. “Just for being you.” It’s a little sappy, too sappy maybe, but she cherishes every moment she’s gotten to spend knowing him and growing with him. 

The kiss Morgan pulls her in for at that is soft and promising, but he pulls back, looking as if it almost pains him. “Dinner first?” And because she can hear his stomach rumbling, she nods in agreement, with a smile and the smallest of laughs. 

“Dinner first.”

-----

It’s snowing.

It’s snowing and the pond is frozen, but it’s empty, surrounded by evergreens and mountains, already coated in white. The air is crisp, that winter crispness that can only truly be felt in the middle of nowhere, and Ophelia breathes deeply, taking in the distinct scent of winter that she never really gets in Toronto, before it’s overpowered by a familiar one.

When Morgan skates up behind her, he doesn’t stop; instead, he only slows down enough to catch her arm and pull her along with him. 

“Morgan!” Ophelia scolds, but she’s laughing when she does, so he can’t possibly take her seriously.

“Ophelia!” He mimics, picking up speed, ignoring her sudden shriek and skating around in front of her to take both of her hands.

“Showoff.” She nods at him, still leading the two of them around the pond, only moving backwards now, so as to still be looking at her.

“Nah, just want to look at that pretty face more.”

When she stops, it doesn’t even catch him off guard; Morgan just glides the half step closer to her, still grinning as she teases him. “You get to look at my face all the time now.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m ever tired of it.” She loves him so much. How open and honest he is, that he always says what he’s thinking, from the sweetest things like that to anything he’s unclear about. His gentle touches, the warm caresses. His stupid dad jokes. She’d spend forever laughing at them just to see the smile on his face when she does.

“Not yet, at least.” She teases. “‘Ever’ is a lot of time.”

“Still not enough.” Morgan says, and then slips one of his hands into his pocket, coming back out with a velvet jewelry box. “Maybe forever?”

“Hey.” It doesn’t sound right, too distant and too unenthusiastic; it doesn’t match the pure joy in Morgan’s eyes looking at her.

“Yes.” She says, smiling and nodding at him.

“Phel,” there’s a gentle nudge against her neck and she blinks awake. There’s Morgan...but…she blinks the fuzziness of the dream away. He looks unhappy, reluctant, and she gets it, suddenly, when he continues. “It’s late.”

“Oh.” She says quietly, swallowing the lump in her throat. He presses a kiss to the back of her neck, another one on the soft skin where it meets her shoulder. “Mo-“ Morgan lifts his head to look at her, but there’s nothing she could say right now that would bring happiness to his face, nothing that would come even close to the unbridled excitement in her dream, so she keeps the memory close to her heart and gives him a soft kiss instead, before she has to go.

-----

“Glass of red, as requested.” Ophelia smiles in thanks as Jon passes her a glass, but her attention is directed at the monstrosity of a tie that his coworker and best friend has shown up to a corporate event wearing.

“Kevin.” She says, and from the grin on his face, her disbelief is clear. “What is that?”

“It’s fashion, Ophelia.” Kevin says, putting an act of superiority on, but then going right back to his usual, kind of goofy, self. “Naw, I found it when we were in Dallas last week. It’s lit, isn’t it?”

“Lit.” She repeats dryly, taking a sip of her wine to hide a smile as he and Jon laugh. 

The laughs don’t last long, as the three of them are approached by Jon’s boss, and the small talk begins. There’s a client there they want to land tonight, or at least make dinner plans with for a later date, and that’s top priority, but don’t forget to make time for this person too because their contract is up in March, and of course, you can’t ignore the Leafs, especially not so-and-so from the such-and-such’s office because they’re looking to renew the sponsorship agreement after the season, and...

She blanks on all the names. All she needs to do is smile pretty anyway.

She excuses herself after Keith Williams (the client, who agrees to dinner later in the week, another night she’ll be alone) to refill her wine glass, and is waiting by the bar when she feels someone slide in next to her just a step too close. Instead of feeling tense though, it relaxes her immediately, and she leans against Morgan. “Hi.”

“Hi.” He smiles back at her. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you.” Ophelia’d noticed him the minute he’d walked the door, noticed the way his suit was perfectly cut, that the navy brought out his eyes, had had a hard time looking away. “You look okay, I guess.”

Morgan laughs. “Okay, I guess?” He repeats, nudging her side.

“Very handsome.” She accepts her glass of wine from the bartender and smiles in thanks before he leaves them. “It’s a good suit on you.”

She’s sure he’s going to make a comment about how it’s an even better suit off him, but they’re interrupted. “Mo!” Someone says behind them, and Ophelia hadn’t even realized how close they were standing, that she’s curling into him and he’s leaning back, until they have to separate to turn around.

“Mitchy.” Morgan greets, sounding as calm as usual, while Ophelia feels like her heart’s going to beat out of her chest. “Finally made it, huh?”

“Matts couldn’t decide on what shoes he wanted to wear.” Mitch grumbles as the blonde next to him snickers into her palm.

“Worth the wait.” Ophelia looks over at the voice and realizes it’s one of the teammates Morgan had over the other week. She quickly realizes from the look on his face that he’s putting together the same pieces.

“Was it though?’ Mitch is asking him. “That’s the last time we agree to carpool.”

He’s ignored though. “We’ve met before, yeah?”

Ophelia nods. “Uh yeah, I live in the same building as Morgan.” She transfers her wine glass to her left hand to offer her right hand out to shake, catches the blonde’s eyes immediately go to her ring, and ignores the feeling in her stomach as she introduces herself to them.

They’re all friendly enough-Auston, Mitch, Mitch’s girlfriend-but she can’t help but feel like they’re just trying to feel her out for something; she makes polite chit-chat for a few minutes and then excuses herself away from them to go back to Jon.

“Hey.” She says quietly, slipping back into his side.

“All good?” He asks quietly. “You were gone for a while.”

She nods. “ Just ran into someone I know.” He hums noncommittally and she feels a moment of fear for Morgan, but then they’re moving toward that guy from the Leafs office he’s supposed to be talking with and he’s back to all business.

-----

“Can we talk about this later?” Jon zips his suitcase and then looks over at her. “I’ve got to go.”

“When do you want to talk about it?” Ophelia cries frustratedly. “You’re always fucking going.”

Jon glares at her.” Jesus Christ, Ophelia.” He starts rolling his suitcase down the hall and she follows, unable to resist.

“Should I even bother looking at houses still? Or should we just stay stagnant?”

“Do whatever the fuck you want, Ophelia. I don’t care right now.” The door slams behind him, but for once, she can’t bring herself to be mad about it, too furious about the fight they just had, shouting in circles about things they’ve already fought about. 

Stewing in her anger isn’t going to do her any good, so she changes and heads to the gym, each pounding step on the treadmill relieving the thrumming under her skin. She’s feeling better, by the time she slows it down to her cool down- not quite calm, by any means, but enough that she feels she can run the errands she needs to for the day without snapping at anyone who doesn’t deserve her ire.

She’s in the grocery store when her phone starts ringing. “Hey.” She smiles when she sees it’s Morgan.

“Hey.” She can practically hear him smiling, even through the phone, her airpods still in her ears. “I’m home.”

She’s in the snack aisle at the food store, absolutely beaming at the simplest words, just because he’s been gone for a week. “You are?”

“For a few days now.” He confirms.

“You want to come for dinner tonight?” She studies the cart in front of her. “I’ll cook.”

“You’re cooking? Tell me when to be there.” Morgan already sounds excited. It’s not often she gets a chance to cook for him, but every time she does, he raves about it. 

She laughs. “I’m at the store now; I’ll text you when I get home.”

He’s actually waiting for her in the parking garage when she pulls in and she laughs at him fondly as she parks her car. “Welcome back.”

“Hmm, good to be back.” The kiss he gives her in greeting is quick, too quick, but he makes up for it when he pushes her back against the counter as soon as they’re in her kitchen and the groceries are on the counter.

“Do you want risotto tonight or not?” Ophelia laughs against his lips, laughs again as she watches how torn Morgan looks. “We have time.”

He squeezes her hand. “Never enough.” And she kisses him again, because it’s true. These stolen moments, this borrowed time, none of it felt like enough. It wouldn’t ever be enough to show him all the love she has for him, to show him everything he does for her, all the pain he takes away and the joy he brings to her life. 

“Could you go pick out a bottle of wine?” She says quietly, nodding toward the wine fridge, instead of saying the things they both know are true, but will only lead to her saying something stupid, like asking him to run away with her.

-----

The house comes in Pam’s daily email and Ophelia loves it from the first picture. She requests a showing for as early as possible and goes through her morning routine, trying not to get overly excited each time her phone buzzes with a new notification, until finally, Pam responds that she’ll meet her there at noon.

It’s only two hours, but it’s two hours that she can’t seem to fill, no matter what she does. Time feels like it’s stopped, until finally she gets in her car and drives over.

The stone exterior is even more beautiful in person than in the pictures. The kitchen is straight out of her dreams. The bedrooms are spacious, the family room is open, the basement is huge. She walks the entire house once, goes through again and again, smile growing wider each time.

Ophelia can picture it perfectly. The laughter filling all these nooks and crannies. A small blue-eyed boy always bouncing around, begging for anyone to play hockey with him. A girl, the shine of her dark hair catching all the natural light, eagerly trying to keep up with him. Morgan throwing his bag down the second he walks in the door and scooping them both into his arms to say hello, before coming to her and a baby, greeting them both just as tenderly.

It’s abrupt, the crash back to reality. This house, this beautiful, gorgeous, house can’t be hers. That life isn’t hers. It can’t be hers. It won’t be theirs. 

Ophelia doesn’t feel her legs crumble out from under her, but she finds herself on the floor, hand brushing over the carpet. She doesn’t feel the tears start either, but it’s not long before the sobs are wracking her entire body and she’s unable to stop.

[lcnelyinthesky]

admiration - tsukishima kei

a/n: okay hi?? im ellie?? heres this??? i worked on it for like four? days?on and off? and its longer than any oneshot ive written but yk shes cute ig. pls be nice pls enjoy... but also my last piece got 2 notes and im really hopin in not shadowbanned here lmao

genre: fluff, angst, rivals to lovers!!

pairing: bisexual!female!reader x tsukishima kei (yes bi reader its a vibe)

warnings: a break up with a beautiful woman i made up myself, swearing

word count: 3.7k (ahhhh!!)

enjoy!! :D

Elementary second year. Your newly-assigned seat was next to a much taller, blond kid. He was smart and bright, rivaling the sun in terms of unbridled joy. Now, none of that can be seen by eight year old eyes, but looking back and comparing, it's easy to spot that he changed. 

Tsukishima Kei was an excitable kid, just as everyone was, but he was still snarky; his arrogance seemed to be something that just festered within his soul, no matter the trauma that brought it out. 

Childlike wonder is still alive and well at eight. 

The teacher you had back then was quite rude. She was pushy and angry, and she assigned way too much homework. Everything she uttered made you huff in disappointment, crossing your arms and hoping for some sort of reaction from someone. The kid next to you was named Koji--or, at least, that's what you called him. He was your best friend, spending every moment with you like you were siblings. You'd be able to crack a joke with the smallest glance and you’d talk constantly. As soon as your handwriting was legible to people of your age group, you'd pass notes back and forth and cackle at their contents. Until, of course,

“Tsukishima, will you switch seats with Kojikata today?” Your teacher sounded exhausted, huffing her sentence out on a sigh before going back to the multiplication tables on the board. Suddenly, your little world was interrupted.

“Y/N, right?” He didn’t look at you, placing his folders down on the desk and pushing his glasses back up as he sat. His words were hushed and quiet, but the class had moved into individual work--he wasn’t interrupting anyone.

“Yeah. Can I call you Tsukki?” You were angry, gripping your pencil tighter in your little hand as you wrote numbers down on white paper. One times one is one. Two times two is four. This is easy.

“No,” he was long doing the same thing, but writing quicker than you. That’s how it is, huh?

Three times two is six. Four times five is twenty. Six times three is eighteen. Five times six is thirty. This is easy-

“Miss, I’m done.” His voice was always so dry. Uninterested. 

Four times three is twelve. “Me too!” Your hand shot up with the paper in it, sending a death glare at the boy next to you.

That's how it is, huh?

This pattern continued for weeks. Tsukishima didn’t move from his seat next to you, as your teacher had made the realization that you worked far harder without friends around. Tsukishima lit a competitive fire under you; everything was now a race.

It started with handing in assignments. Who would go up to the front desk first to have their work checked over? Who would finish this quiz faster? Then it transferred into everything. 

Who would get to class faster? Who finished their lunch quicker? Who could read faster? Who scored higher on spelling tests? Who could run faster in gym class?

And then it was middle school.

Middle school brought in Yamaguchi Tadashi. 

It'd be an understatement to say he warmed to Yamaguchi quickly, but the basis behind that was strange. Tsukishima was never one for friends, even though everyone wanted to be friends with him. He was cool in the eyes of a handful of eleven year olds; letting everything roll off your back seemed to be an admirable trait. Yamaguchi worshipped him, and Tsukishima took him under his wing to teach him the ropes of being a cool kid.

At heart, though, Yamaguchi was kind and attentive. He could tell when things were going wrong, and supposedly it was him that changed the rest of your life.

The rivalry continued just as it had in elementary, just with higher stakes. You'd fight for answering questions first, working ahead of everyone else to just beat him. He’d never bat an eye at it, and sometimes you thought it was all over, but then

“Y/N.” Tsukishima Kei stood three steps behind you, looming over you with the height he was seemingly born with. The hallway was emptying by now, kids walking into their classrooms once again. The white floors rung with the quiet sounds of soft-bottomed shoes and a light above your head flickered calmly.

“Yeah?” You spun around to meet his gaze.

“What’d you get on that lit essay?”

“A 96. Why?”

“No reason,” he smirked and tilted his head up, looking down at you, “I got a 100.”

A huff and a stomp away gave him the answer he needed as he followed you into the classroom, sitting down behind you and next to Yamaguchi just as he did every day. The little shit.

Tsukishima was never better than you, technically speaking. On average and on paper, you were always both roughly the same. You'd fight for being top of the class, the position switching between both of you every day. You excelled in creative things while he excelled at sports, but both of you dabbled in the other. When people in your year began dating, everyone came to assume you two were. It was embarrassing, really, because Tsukishima Kei was a little shit know-it-all who will never beat me at anything ever and people need to stop thinking he will because he won’t I’m better than hi-

“Hey?” Oh right. Friends.

“Koji!” He never left, at least not yet. His nimble fingers tapping on your shoulder brought you back to reality, making you jump and turn around to face him, wrapping your arms around his body for a split second.

“You looked zoned” his face was riddled with concern that was easy to write off.

“Oh, whoops” a small blush heated your cheek as your hand migrated to rub your neck. “Did you want something?”

As you walked into the classroom a bit further, Koji sat on your right; he seemed to buckle down more when you had moved away from each other way back in the day, so there were less mid-class comedy shows. He grew up just as you had, and with the closeness of the two of you people began to think you were dating. At twelve, it was incredibly necessary to date someone--anyone. Theories bounced from everywhere and anywhere and with you it was either your best friend or your biggest rival. Your lack of attraction to either of them became the center of many late night crises. 

“Not particularly,” his gaze switched from you to the board again, beginning to write something down when he turned his head. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah! Of course I am,” you smiled at him, the kind of smile that made your eyes crinkle at the corners, and suddenly it was high school.

-

“Tsukishima is really cute! And he's smart, I heard that Kageyama wasn’t too bright somewhere.”

“But Kageyama’s so much hotter! His being a little dumb sometimes is endearing.”

“Are we not going to talk about that third year setter, Sugawara?”

“No, he’d never go for a first year. Besides, that Hinata kid is more of an enigma.”

“Have you even seen them play?” A howl of angry “yes”s fell over the crowd, trying to prove something. None of them had ever seen them play.

That asshole Tsukishima getting popular felt like a stab in the soul. None of them knew him or how much he sucked, but the amount of girls fawning over him was horrific.

-

There's something consistently poetic about young love, no matter where it comes from. Something extra sweet about holding pinkies in school corridors when no one is looking and seeing them every day, smiling loudly as the sun broke over the horizon all bright and early. The raging hormones and dumb, fake social hierarchies of fifteen make emotions run wild, and only the deeply immature end up helplessly infatuated. Others are more cautious, but there's only so many precautions one can take at fifteen. Sometimes some of us just want to be loved, no matter the sincerity of it.

Cared for, and whatnot. No harm in that, in the long run at least. 

“Y/N, right?” Her name was Mei. She was in your class; 1-4, just like Tsukishima. She was pretty. Long, black hair was preceded by two green streaks at the front. She’d always have those down, making her features look like a photo in a perfect frame. She had a collection of hair clips with small shapes on them that she’d have somewhere on her person at all times. Her more mid-sized body was paler than most, and she was covered in freckles and moles. Her eyes were an unusual shade of blue that looked deep enough to swim in. Her cheeks were always stained with a peachy blush that moved up her collarbones and into her ears, making her look like she was always smiling no matter what her face was doing. Karasuno’s school uniform did wonders for her curves, the skirt swaying up on occasion and making her look so damn perfect.

“Yeah! You’re…” a second of dumbfounded pause felt like years in your mind, coming to the conclusion that she was the most beautiful girl you had ever met. “Ojiro Mei?”

“Yep! I just wanted to tell you you looked really pretty today!” Her voice always had an upward inflection, and was higher than most. It was cute. Incredibly cute.

“Oh.” A moment of confidence fell over you like you weren’t in control of your actions, “you’re beautiful.”

“Thank you very much,” she bounced back on her toes and then rolled back to her heels, hands intertwined behind her back, “You’re too kind, Y/N.” Her sentences were always punctuated with an eye-crinkling smile.

Later that day, you found her on every social media account you could; she messaged you first.

When you don’t know you’re interested in women, it’s hard to notice that they’re flirting with you, but after a handful of supposed gay panic, you asked her on a date.

She was two inches shorter than you, and somehow that persisted no matter what shoes she was wearing. Every small outing with her felt like cloud nine--watching the sunset, small conversation over tea at a nearby cafe, cuddling in your bedroom with only a string of Christmas lights on. She always looked so wonderful in soft lighting, the potential cold of winter disappeared with pale beiges that made her freckles look like stars. Every action Mei ever did was soft and full of care. She could send every single emotion through her fingertips on your jaw, deepening a kiss you started moments before. She was like magic, until she wasn't anymore.

You supposed, when thinking back, that things fell out around month thirteen. The rose colored lenses everything was viewed through faded a bit, and it's easy to notice her pulling away. There were less late night phone calls and less recommended music and less hands running through your hair. Everything has a natural progression to the end, right?

“Do you still feel it?” It was raining. Large drops of water fell down to the floor, smacking the pavement at speeds you couldn’t even try to measure. She was wearing a bright yellow raincoat that looked almost dull in the four pm light. 

“Feel what?”

“Anything, baby.” All of her words ended with a huffed out sigh, like she was tired of something. Lying, maybe. 

You pondered the question, and it seemed like your hesitation gave her all the answer she needed. 

“Ya know, Y/N.” She looked down and grabbed your hands with hers, rubbing her thumbs on your palms as you grabbed around them. “This was fun. We had a good run.”

A solemn tear fell down your cheek at the ending, but there was no use in self pity or anger now. She was so sweet and kind, and it's truly unthinkable how she continued that kindness in the end.

“Yeah. A good run.” The pink in your cheeks grew as you choked out a laugh, pulling her in for one final hug under the dim fluorescent lights on the front door overhang of the school.

Fifteen came and went with love, and when sixteen rolled around you wondered if you’d ever be loved like that again.

-

A spirit can't be broken overnight, and if you’ve spent the last eight years of your life having a strong, consistent rivalry with someone, it won’t leave any time soon. Tsukishima and you were on similar playing fields for most of your life, but you had one thing he didn’t: relationship experience. In that way, you always counted yourself one point higher, like a boy scout badge. 

For a spell, however, your intensity changed. There was nothing more driving you than spite, and there was nothing you wanted more than to beat him. You were well into your second year of high school at this point, and--volleyball notwithstanding--you had wins over Tsukishima. You had seen him play volleyball, every match in his second year, and you deemed he was simply okay. You refused to count his success onto the list of wins for both of you.

June fifteenth. Tournaments were coming up around the corner when it happened, which explained every reason why he was there. You weren’t exactly prepared for the rain, so the best bet seemed to be sitting at the front entrance of Karasuno High School and wallowing in a little bit more self pity before you went home. You were just dumped after all, the tears weren’t done falling. 

The feeling between sadness and shame overflowed you, shades of yellowish green painting the world around you and churning your gut into oblivion. And the tears fell. It felt like a scene in a movie; in a few seconds, a strong, capable man would show up to your rescue.

“Y/N?” what the fuck?

He was sweaty. His face was matte from a light film of saltwater. He had a grey umbrella over his head, keeping himself dry from the still-pelting rain. His six-foot-two frame was covered with a black tracksuit, and he still had his sports goggles on.

Those fucking sports goggles.

“Tsukishima.” you deadpanned, trying to get him away as fast as possible. His words were snarky, as always, but this time laced with concern. Like he actually cared.

“What are you still doing here? It’s almost six,” he stood under the overhang with you, crouching to take a few feet off of his incredible height. 

“Sulking?”

“Ah,” he huffed and sat down next to you, “it’s not great for your posture, ya know.”

“Oh shut up, Tsukishima.”

“Remember when we were eight,” he looked up, studying the moths as they flew around the lights on the ceiling, “and you asked if you could call me Tsukki?”

“Vaguely, but we were eight.”

“Yeah, true” his head dramatically fell to his lap, staring at his knees as he chuckled, “but you can. Call me Tsukki, that is.”

An uncomfortable laugh fell from your lips, and he spoke for you, “this one kid, Koganegawa, the setter on Date Tech, calls me that too. It's not a Tadashi-only nickname anymore.”

“You say Tadashi-only like I wasn’t there first.”

“He never asked.”

“Would you have said no?”

“Probably” he hasn’t actually looked at you yet. 

“Should I not have asked?”

“It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Okay, Tsukki” you drew out the last letter, giggling at the situation before you had time to think about your emotions.

He noticed that you weren’t crying anymore and helped you stand, grabbing your hand and pulling you up. Tsukishima and you lived closer than you thought, walking the same direction and only splitting up seconds away from your home.

You walked in silence the whole time, but it was comfortable. While he was your rival, he was always a friend. There was nothing scary or intimidating about him, as is with most people when you’ve known them forever; it was almost like his facade just didn’t work on you. You were huddled close to him to stay out of the rain. 

The second you parted ways, you ran home. The rain was more of a drizzle now, but the temperature began a free fall--getting out of the cold as fast as possible was your first priority. Upon entering the front door and taking off your shoes and jacket, leaving everything to sit in the entryway, you took a shower. The rain didn’t do enough to wash away the pain of the day, and warm steam would let the rest evaporate. The expected unrelenting sadness wasn’t really present as much as was expected, though. Everything felt fine. Content. Okay.

-

And it continued that way. He sent you a snapchat asking if you had gotten home safely, which prompted a memory of you never giving each other your phone numbers. After a quick yes, tsukki. no need to worry ;), you sent him your number asking to play some game.

Whatever is meant to happen does, right? Any excuse for falling for him. You didn’t want to, of course, but things happen. Time changes. Thus, the excuses. Thus, the ignorance. Thus, the five stages of grief. 

It started with the denial, because no Y/N you can’t like Tsukishima Kei. He’s so competitive and mean and snarky and horrible and you hate him! Then, the anger, because Tsukishima sucks and he’s horrible and you’re going to punch him in his stupid cute face. Next, the bargaining, because please don’t let this be happening you’ll do anything to lose these feelings, even if it means letting him win at something. Going into the depression, because all you’ve ever wanted was to be free of this assclown and now you’re stuck thinking about him at three in the morning when you’re supposed to be dreaming about anything other than him. And finally, acceptance, when you scowl at him in the hallway because fuck, you like Tsukishima Kei.

The worst bit of acceptance is getting over it. Now you had to confront your feelings. Now you needed to tell him. 

It was roughly five months since he found you sulking on school grounds, and you regretted most days the way you let him text you every morning. It’d always be something stupid, like a joke about the novel you were reading in lit or sometimes he’d tell you, off hand, something dumb Hinata and Kageyama did at practice. Sometimes he’d text you, within the first twenty minutes of the school day, pointing out something little you did with your hair. They were never really compliments as much as comments; he’d say “your socks have a pink ring at the top” and give you nothing to work with from there. A simple yes would suffice, you always supposed, because “yes, tsukki. they do.”

He’d linger at his desk during the break between classes and would stay there if you didn’t leave, but would leave a few steps behind you if you did. He wouldn’t follow you, but he’d watch to know where you were going. Everything he did was concealed though--you'd only notice if you really wanted to know.

Yamaguchi was the only one to notice, even after a while of it. You’ll never know what he said to his friend, but the conversation you had with the aforementioned friend a day later gives some guesses.

“Y/N?” Tsukishima was never the shy type, and you knew him in the days where everyone was shy. He wasn’t loud, but he was bold. His words were always pointed and important. Everything he did always had purpose and intensity behind it.

“Tsukki?” You were sitting under a tree, enjoying the late spring weather of the beginning of your third year. Nothing became intense yet classwork wise, so there was ample time to chill on the school grounds. Overlooking the soccer field was a large oak tree. It was big enough to comfortably have multiple groups of people under its shade, but it was empty at the moment; save for you and the book you were reading.

“I was just wondering if you’d like to maybe go out sometime?” He somehow didn’t pause while talking, but his words came out more something akin to word vomit. You we’re more shocked than you should have been, if you had picked up on the signs. But you were feeling the same as he was, as far as you could tell.

“Sure, when?” You looked back down at your book for a second, placing the bookmark in it and folding the pages shut.

Tsukishima looked dumbfounded, standing there with his eyes bugged out and his mouth slightly agape. He started making unintelligible babbling noises, hoping to get something out that had any meaning at all. You took the reins instead, gaining confidence in his lack thereof.

“I was planning on getting coffee or something today after school. It gets really cold at night now, huh?”

“Yeah, I suppose.”

“Would you like to join me?”

“There's a break before practice today so” he hesitated, letting the pink in his cheeks finally catch up to the beating in his chest. “Sure.”

You wouldn’t have ever pegged Tsukishima Kei as the flustered type.

-

There was never a drop in conversation, as there never really was between you two. A whole life together and you still had things to talk about, mentioning everything from your individual childhoods to recent developments. Turns out he never knew what genre of books were your favorite. Or what kind of music you listened to. Or what any of your hobbies were. 

Turns out you both had more in common than you thought, competitive spirits notwithstanding. Tsukishima Kei was a strange man in every sense of the word. He was arrogant and snarky and disinterested and bright and passionate and smart. He was your rival, smug look plastered on his smug face making your chest bubble in anger just as it had a million times before--or was that admiration this time? The world may never know. 

All that was real right now was the deck of cards on the table, being separated out into a card game both of you learned as kids. The small, round, cafe table shook with every slap of your hands, but the basis of your relationship would always be competition. It's just that now the anger behind that competition was gone. All that was left was admiration. 

[lafox]

Valentine’s Day with the Lupin Gang (Including Pops)

Hey guys, this is my first every headcanon and I am so excited! Before we start, I would like to warn you that English is my second language, if I do a spelling mistake then I am very sorry >.<  If I ever  interpret a character wrong please do let me know! Let’s start!

LUPIN THE III

He will go all in for this, it’s a special day after all! And he is a romantic so this day is for him and his S/O.

Will do everything to have the day or at least the evening free for his S/O.

The gang will tease him about it and make jokes:

“Hey Lupin didn't we plan a heist to-” “ARE YOU NUTS?!”

He will surprise you very formally… Just kidding he will enter by your window.

Would give you beautiful flowers as a starter gift.

Would give you expensive gifts.

Or a stolen thing from his adventures.

He doesn’t seem like it but he is very attentive and will know what to offer you to this special day

 Would keep you close to him at all times by holding your hand or holding your waist. 

Would invite you to the best restaurant in your city. 

It would be a feast! 

Would hold your hand and rub his thumb on your fingers while you talk.

Would sigh passionately while he listen to you talk about your day.

By the time you guys finished dessert, Zenigata would probably rock up to catch Lupin and ruin things.

Lupin holds you bride style and runs away to your place while you both laughs.

Lupin does feel bad about it but try not to show it and still stays flirty at all times. 

Once at home, He offers you his valentine gift and enjoy watching your beautiful face and catching every second of this moment that he will keep in his memory.

Even if he wanted things to go better, he still satisfied of the day. 

Once in bed, you both talk and enjoys each other company. 

You both face each other and the atmosphere is calm and loving.

He puts his hand around your cheek and rubs in as he smiles at you. 

You both give each other some small and cute kisses while letting go of some few chuckles.

You both fall asleep holding each other and enjoying the presents of his body next you yours.

FUJIKO MINE

Valentine’s Day is a day you both enjoy.

She knows that it’s a nice day so she will try her best to be free. 

This time you organize it and she was surprised even touched.

You had prepared some flowers and some chocolate, some cliché stuff but she loved the thought.

Will give you some kisses here and there while you finish cooking dinner for both of you.

After that you set the table and have a private table on your balcony. 

She watches you with loving eyes as she sips the fine wine you bought early this evening.

After a beautiful homemade dinner, you both sit down on the couch and you reach for her gift.

She is stunned, she didn't expect a gift.

But she did have time to steal or buy something for you

Would probably be so nice clothes or jewelry 

She wants you to look the best and to be confident

Once you both enjoy some wine and talked, she drags you out and tells you she wants to show you place. 

You both walk to her favorite place in town, trying not to be suspicious. 

Once you had smells some fresh air you both come back to home.

A lovely night it was and you both don't want it to end.

In bed she gives you a massage as a thank you for the lovely night. 

The Queen has the hands of a Goddess and you needed it.

She lays next to you as she runs her fingers on your back.

She would smooth talk to you, telling you sweet stuff and how much she appreciate you, that you are the brightest diamond she ever saw.

You both fall asleep holding hands and facing each other.

JIGEN DAISUKE

This man would surprise you in a sweet way

You hadn't checked the date. you were just tired of your day and wanted to go home, even planning on taking take away.

When you enter your home it smelled like someone was cooking something heavenly with a mix of cigarettes. 

You walked to the kitchen to find Jigen, dressed up to the nines (Like he usually is) 

You would hug him and be so happy that he was here. 

Would continue cooking while you talk about your day and would sometime hold your hand when it was free.

Once dinner was ready, you helped him set up the table and you both enjoy a beautiful dinner. 

He would talk about his adventure, shooting some puns here and there and of course you would laugh at them.

He would have bought some Bourbon for you to both enjoy after dinner.

After dinner he would sat you down on the couch and go to one of the room of your home.

Would give you a simple gift but there will always be an element of complexity, almost like a poem.

His gifts are significant to both you and him. 

After you open his gift, he would shower you with kisses

You would stay close to him as he talks about the gang and his misadventures. 

Holds your waist while your head is on his shoulder so he can give you forehead kisses 

You both would relax and drink the Bourbon he bought while watching a movie or a tv show. 

In bed you both relax, you head his lying on his peck as his hands are around you.

You both fall asleep enjoy each other company, even if you both knew it wouldn't last for long.

ISHIKAWA GOEMON 

Oh poor baby he will try. 

FEELINGS ARE SCARY OKAY?!?

He knows its a special day and it will try everything to make you happy.

In Japan, the girls give the cliché romantic, valentine gifts but he knows its not the same in Western countries.

Would ask the gang what is Valentine day and all the details

Would give you so sweet gifts

Or sentimental gifts

He is very attentive even more than Lupin, he wants things to be perfect.

Would try not to ridicule himself by stuttering or being flustered. 

When you enter he would bow and stand here nervously with some flower hidden behind his back.

Would try to give them to you but instead the flowers are 2cm away from your face.

Its a technique to hide his face from your view. 

After you both talk a bit, he start to relax a bit more.

You both sat down on the couch and talks to you about his adventure and how you helped him in tough times

“Every time I was lost or unsure, you always came to my mind to clear the clouds.”

Of course immediately after that he his face shows a shade of pink on his cheeks.

He will blush a lot during this special night

You both have a nice dinner and discuss.

You mostly did all the talking as he is listening to every detail.

In bed you both lay down down next to each other, feeling each others skin and heat.

It was a precious moment for both of you and he will always keep in in his mind for when he needs you.

He loves to give you forehead kisses. 

You retreat your head on his shoulder and you both fall asleep.

INSPECTOR KOICHI ZENIGATA 

Lovely dovely Zenigata <3

You would surprise him.

The poor man work relentlessly to catch Lupin, this is an opportunity for you to show how much you appreciate him. 

You had everything ready, from the nice dinner awaiting for him to a nice present, nothing special but it was still something.

He came home late, like usual. 

Well actually, a few minutes later than usual you might add.

You heard him come home and you turned around.

The man was exhausted, you could see he was running everywhere again.

He excused himself for being late while hiding something behind his back.

You walked to him, ready to hug him hello before you reveals some nice flowers he bought.

“I was late today because it was impossible to find some flowers.” 

“I might've used a bit of my police power to get those...” 

He said kind of guilty.

You couldn't have asked for more and hugged him.

You put the flowers in a vase and set up the table for dinner.

While eating, he talked about his day and vice versa. 

He gives you some smiles, laughs and loving eyes even if was tired of his day.

After dinner, he helps wash everything with some few laughs.

You opened the balcony and both sat down on the couch to relax after a delightful dinner.

Zenigata enjoys a smoke by your side as you both talk.

While talking, will say some comments like:

“I missed you”

“You have been on my mind all day.”

“I’m so glad I am home”

You finally give him your gift and he loves it!

It’s cute and perfect, he will definitely cherish this.

In bed you both snuggle together.

You both at each other in the eyes.

He want this moment to never end but he knows he will have to go back to work, he knows that he might not see you for days, even weeks..

But that doesn't stop him for enjoying this moment as much as possible.

You both happily fall asleep in spoon position.

------

OMG I've worked on this for 4 DAYS I'm so happy I've finished it on Valentine’s Day! And I'm so proud of it too!

Happy Valentine’s Day my lovelies! And if you don't have a Valentine then treat yourself cause you deserve it !

Chlo <3

I actually had a dream abt Zenigata so i wrote it in this hc

My Ask Are Always Open ! Don’t Be Shy!

[arewelonely]

wolfstar fix-it fic.

I was doing a rewatch of the hp series and got so frustrated... so wrote this to help fix everything. this takes place on The Night, so take care of yourselves if need be.

thank you @rivkahstudies for betaing:) all the love.

cw: brief vomit, mild blood, discussion of character death.

—

Remus landed with a gut punch, the winds of his Apparition spitting past his ears as his pupils dilated.

His breath halted, his throat caved in on itself. His heartbeat ran past his eardrum.

James. Lily. Harry.

The second floor of their house opened to the sky, the roof blown off into smithereens. The doorway was wide open, door shattered in pieces on the lawn. Remus couldn’t tell if lights were on in all the rooms or if a fire rampaged. Either way, crackling came from everywhere, sizzling in the leaves on the trees and coming from deep inside the house as the Potters’ possessions burned.

Debris cluttered the yard, an ashy blanket smothering the trees in the front, the now-charred mums at the doorway, the jack-o’-lanterns along the path. Remus took hesitant steps forward, eyes darting from one smoke-filled window to the next.

His gaze fell on four jack-o’-lanterns in his way–a gasp pushed itself out of his mouth and he clutched his chest.

A deer, a wolf, a dog, and a rat.

He struggled to swallow. Spun abruptly. Bent over, emptying his stomach. Fuck. The vomit splattered on the crisped grass and Remus heaved again at the noise and again at the smoky smell.

He brushed a hand across his face and coughed before turning away and walking towards the door–he needed to get to James, to see if he was okay, needed to find Lily, needed to protect Harry if his parents couldn’t–

A figure emerged in the doorway, panting out the smoke.

His stomach flipped.

He stopped breathing again and shot up his wand arm, directly at Sirius and Harry.

Where was James, where was Lily, he needed to get to them, couldn’t imagine what they were feeling, their best friend–

Sirius’ pants were stained with soot as he stumbled out of the house with Harry in his arms, eyes finally lifting once he stood out of the hazy smoke. His eyes flared when he saw Remus, torso twisting away and wand flying up as if to shield Harry from him. Remus’ jaw dropped.

“You will give Harry to me,” Remus said, each word deliberately leaving his mouth. He knew his arm shook with the urge to do something and spells raced through his brain, but he did not have faith in himself to hit only Sirius and not Harry. He did not have faith in Sirius to not use Harry as a shield–fucking Merlin.

“No, you will back up,” Sirius ordered right back. His eyebrows narrowed and he jutted his wand arm out again. “Get back.”

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” Remus’ voice rose. His eyes pricked and his throat clenched. “Give me Harry right now, you fucking two-faced arsehole, you do not deserve to touch the son of the man who named you his godfather, betraying ass, hand him over!”

“I was not the one who betrayed them, Remus!” Sirius screamed back. “It was Peter, the slimy fuckwad who–” his voice broke, his wand shaking.

Before Remus could respond (fuck if Sirius thought he would believe this bullshit), Harry patted Sirius’ chest and leaned around to get into Remus’ viewpoint.

“Moony?”

Remus let out a shaky breath. Harry had blood on his forehead, but otherwise looked alright and whole, his body settled in the crook of Sirius’ arm. “Hi, Harry.”

The two men stared at each other, chests heaving, the only sound the crackling of their friends’ house in the background and the plants on the property shedding their leaves to the sky.

Harry patted Sirius’ chest again and Sirius slowly looked down at him, apparently hesitant to let Remus exist unscrutinized.

“Mama?” Harry gazed up at Sirius with wide eyes.

Sirius’ jaw jutted forward. His nose twitched. He looked back to Remus, his Adam’s apple jerking.

Remus gasped, stepping back. A jolt ran through his stomach, across his cheekbones. Sirius opened his mouth as if to say something and Remus lifted his wand higher. “Both of them?” he spluttered.

Sirius’ arm tightened around Harry and he sucked his bottom lip into his mouth hard, eyes glancing up to the sky before returning to Remus’ again.

“Give Harry to me now,” Remus started forward. His hand gripped his wand so tightly, he could almost feel splinters in his palm.

Sirius twisted away again and shook his head fiercely. “It was not me!”

Remus let out a scream. “How could it have been anyone but you? You were their fucking Secret Keeper, Sirius! You betrayed them–”

Sirius’ head shook. “No, no! We switched it to Peter. Last week.” His voice broke out. He shifted Harry again. “Last week, we switched.”

Remus scoffed, heat rushing behind his ears. “You expect me to believe that bullshit? I’ve seen you multiple times since last week, Sirius, none of you told me–”

“I–” Sirius’ whole face winced, his mouth trembling. “We–I thought you might be working with them!”

A heavy gasp punched out before his mind had even worked through the logic.

He fell back again, his lungs empty. His wand remained facing Sirius, although who knew how much good it would do now, vibrating while his other hand covered his mouth. While he stared off into the dark forest.

His ears rang. Merlin. Merlin. They thought–

“What possible evidence could you have for such an outrageous accusation?” Remus roared.

Sirius jerked his head towards the woods desperately, eyebrows knit together. “You’ve been away with them for so long, so secretive, I–”

“I’M WORKING FOR THE ORDER!”

“–We live together, I didn’t want you finding out we switched and then–”

“And then what, I go on and tell someone? I put our friends’ lives in danger?” He scoffed and steadied his wand again. “This is a load of absolute shit, give Harry to me before I stun you both.”

“You will not stun us, and you are not getting Harry!”

The boy in question must have moved because Sirius flashed his eyes at Remus and then broke the eye contact, shifting to his godson briefly.

“You want me to accept that Peter betrayed us all, that he… murdered–”

Remus just couldn’t say it, not out loud, not in front of their son.

Sirius’ nostrils flared and then he was screaming back. “I did not betray my brother!”

“He was all our brother–”

“HE IS MY BROTHER!”

The shout echoed around the property. Sirius’ gaze remained steady amidst the twitches of his eyebrows and the corner of his mouth as he tried to keep his composure.

“Where is Peter?”

“I don’t know, when I got here there was no one except for…” Sirius shook his head and swallowed, clutching Harry tighter again. Remus could hear small whimpers.

“Why did you come here? You were supposed to be at the Burrow.”

“I just wanted to check in–”

Remus shot him a glare. “Out of the blue?”

“I had a feeling–”

“A feeling?” Remus shouted. “You expect me to believe a fucking–”

“Why are you here?” Sirius screamed.

“I–” Remus faltered. He shook his head. “I… something was…”

Sirius’ face crumpled. “Something was wrong.”

Remus was no longer sure whether he was breathing or whether the two just shuddered sorrow and anger back and forth. His chest felt empty like never before and his arm, still raised in front of him, shook fiercely.

The woods rustled to Remus’ left and he flinched, pivoting instantly to redirect his wand. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that Sirius had done the same, twisting Harry even farther away from this new source of danger.

Fuck, Remus couldn’t do this. He needed to get Harry away from Sirius, away from whatever was about to happen here–which took priority? He risked a glance at Sirius and found him returning the gaze. Strong brow, eyes set.

Remus stopped breathing.

Their friends… were dead.

Their friends were dead.

“Hullo? Who’s there?”

Remus adjusted his stance to prepare to duel and squinted into the woods. A tall, lumbering mass came into the light, ebbing and flickering from the house. Remus tensed, eyebrows furrowing.

The person stepped forward more, brandishing an umbrella in front of them. Remus’ lungs deflated halfway–Hagrid.

He walked closer, umbrella dropping to his side. “Oh, it’s just you lot, and little Harry’s okay, I–” Hagrid’s words faded as he was met with the two wizards’ still wielded wands.

“How do we know it’s actually you?” Sirius’ voice was clenched. He sounded like he did at Order meetings when Dumbledore gave out dangerous missions that meant separation for their friends.

“Why are you here?” Remus asked.

Hagrid nodded, “Professor Dumbledore sent me here to see if… He…”

Remus noted Hagrid’s red cheeks and the dripping eyes. Hagrid lifted his sleeve to his face.

“He had charms on the house to alert him if anything happened. Dumbledore wanted me to get Harry if need be.” Hagrid sniffled and watched the house for a moment before tearing his eyes away. He nodded. “I’m to bring him to his aunt and uncle’s, now.”

Remus hadn’t decided yet what he thought of this situation, this Hagrid situation, this Sirius situation; the situation in general lay in a damp mess across his brain–

But Sirius instantly exploded:

“There is no fucking way that is happening!”

“Dumbledore says it’ll be safest for him, away from–”

“Safest? They’re horrific, the whole lot of them!” Sirius turned his stoic glare at Remus briefly, then faced Hagrid again–

“Professor Dumbledore wants him protected–”

“I AM HIS GODFATHER!” Sirius screamed. Harry gave a whimper again and Remus could hear his squirming against Sirius’ jacket. Sirius’ jaw clenched and he lowered his voice to a growl: “Dumbledore can eat shi–”

Hagrid’s eyes darkened. “Do not speak ill of Dumbledore, now!” He started forward. Sirius lifted his back foot ever so slightly.

Remus moved instantly. He strode to Sirius, their wands still pointing at Hagrid’s now raised umbrella.

Sirius would not run in the other direction. Remus would not let him leave with Harry.

“Stand back,” he ordered Hagrid. “You do not get Harry.” Remus ignored Sirius’ pulsing next to him. Sirius would stay silent. Remus would deal with him once Hagrid was gone.

Harry wiggled in Sirius’ grasp again, his arms reaching over Sirius’ to get Remus’ attention.

“I need to take little Harry now,” Hagrid said. “Dumbledore said not to wait around here. More… You-Know-What’s could be coming.”

Remus grit his teeth. Hagrid had a point. He glanced over at Sirius, who adjusted the weight on his feet again.

“You will not leave without me,” Remus growled as low as he could.

“Harry does not go to–”

“I know.”

Hagrid cleared his throat and stepped forwards. “Now, I’m here on official business for Professor Dumbledore, I need to follow his orders and take Harry–”

“To the flat,” Remus muttered, and gripped onto Sirius’ arm hard, fingertips clenching into his boyfriend’s skin. He knew Sirius was already holding fast to Harry, and he spun them and the world. It all turned into a blur of red and orange against the char of their friends’ destroyed home.

––– 

Harry started sobbing the second they landed in the main room of their flat.

“I know, I know,” Sirius murmured, “Apparating doesn’t feel good. It’s alright, you’re okay now.” He looked down to where Remus’ fingers still dug into his forearm, then up to his face.

Remus startled back. Their eyes froze for a moment, Sirius bouncing Harry on his hip. Remus bit his lip at how deeply bloodshot Sirius’ eyes were. Tears welled up around the edges, or perhaps they had been there the whole time and he had just been too far away to see.

Harry let out another bawl, the volume rising rapidly, and Remus turned to the door and then the fireplace to cast extra wards. He wanted no one entering, not Voldemort coming back to finish the job, not Death Eaters carrying out his bidding, not Dumbledore coming to take their nephew. Remus glanced over his shoulder at Sirius settling Harry on his chest. He cast an extra ward: he wanted no one leaving this apartment tonight, either.

He returned slowly to Sirius. He braced himself. He extended his arm, palm face up, open wide.

Sirius stared at it, murmuring something soothing to Harry, and then he stopped in the middle of a sentence. Remus saw everything click for him just as Harry began to wail more loudly.

“No, no,” Sirius said. He shook his head as he swayed back and forth for Harry.

Remus gave a firm nod and extended his arm further. His wand dangled in his hand at his other side. Sirius glared at it.

Harry screamed.

Sirius opened and shut his mouth a few times. His eyes bared wide and his head shook minutely.

Harry screamed and rocked back and forth in Sirius’ arms, almost tumbling out of Sirius’ clutch.

Sirius shifted Harry fully to one hip, dug his wand out of his pocket. “Fuck you,” he spat. He slapped it into Remus’ hand and turned around, instantly recommencing his talk to Harry.

Remus sighed and pocketed both wands, walking slowly over to the attached kitchen. He poured two glasses of water. He sipped from his and placed the other on the table by the couch… Sirius glanced down at it and then back to the fridge. Sirius closed his eyes on a dark roll. He opened them at Remus.

“We have milk?”

Remus stared at Sirius and watched him rub circles into Harry’s back. Harry whimpered. “I… I can check.” He gave Sirius a once-over and then went to open the fridge again, waiting half a beat as the cool air rushed over him.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Sirius said. “I can’t, you have my fucking wand, but… I’m not going anywhere.” His voice wasn’t raised, perhaps even a little lower than usual, but the hurt was there all the same.

Remus knew that Harry liked to sleep on their chests while they talked, Lily said it was something about the rumbling sensation being similar to pregnancy. Harry’s sobs were already just sniffles, and Sirius went back to mumbling to him as he watched Remus. And Remus knew he was being watched, even with his back to him, as he got the sippy-cup from the cupboard and poured some milk.

“You’ll forgive me,” Remus responded. He returned to the living room and walked close to Sirius, doing his best to keep his breath steady. “Hey, Harry, hi, bud.”

Harry turned his face from Sirius’ chest–soot around the edges, blood on his forehead, teary shine around his eyes and all on the apples of his cheeks.

“Want some milk?” He held the sippy-cup close so Harry could grab it.

Harry’s face reddened and contorted, and Sirius shifted him before Harry’s wail could rise again to its full volume. He took the cup from Remus, their fingers entangling as the cup transferred hands, and Remus watched as Sirius’s Adam’s apple bobbed before he resumed his talk to Harry–

“Here, bud, come on, we’re gonna go and wash up, okay? You’ll have some milk, I’m going to get a nice warm washcloth–”

Remus rushed to the bathroom ahead of them. He yanked open the cabinet and pulled down the supplies–washcloth, wizarding healing balm, Muggle healing balm.

He sat on the edge of the tub as Sirius came in, cradling Harry and perching on the toilet. He took the washcloth Remus handed to him.

“Mm, nice and warm, hm? Have some milk, I’m just going to wipe this off, here, and then…”

Sirius halted. He frowned. Harry’s eyes lifted from his sippy-cup to watch as Remus leaned in closer.

On Harry’s forehead. The blood was not just a non-magical gash, or even a spell that had bounced off of something else and accidentally hit Harry. A zigzag, a lightning bolt, etched deep. Dark magic, aimed at Harry. Magic with the intent to hurt a one year-old.

Sirius’ hand curled into a fist around the washcloth. His jaw set and his arm shook until the pressure on the washcloth caused some water to wring out on the floor. Remus watched Sirius’ lips quiver and his eyes go dark looking at his godson’s injury. The wound was wet, and even after Sirius passed the washcloth over it a few more times, the scar still filled with blood.

Remus cleared his throat. “Here, we’ve got some ointment for you.” He lowered his gaze to Harry’s eyes.

The green was piercing.

He pressed a smile on to his face. “Is it okay if I dab a bit on?” He tilted the container so Harry could see, waited for the nod behind the cup.

He used the numbing Muggle balm first, then the wizarding one. He wasn’t sure the wizarding medicine would do anything drastic, as this… Yeah, this was an intensely magical scar. Remus pushed back Harry’s hair and smoothed the bandage. Voldemort had truly tried to murder a one year-old after murdering his parents.

Remus’ fingers stilled.

Voldemort had tried to murder a one year-old after murdering his parents. Why could he not succeed?

“Alright now, time to go to sleep, alright?” Sirius’ voice was soft and gravelly, his head ducking around so Harry could see him. Remus fixed the lids on the medicine.

“Padfoo…”

“Mhm? It’s bedtime now, let’s go get you all cozy…” Sirius lifted Harry up so his head lay on his shoulder and dropped the washcloth in the sink on his way out. Remus watched from his spot on the bathtub as the blood trickled down to the drain.

“Want Mama…”

“I know, bud. Sleepy time now, though, okay?”

“Dada…”

Remus dropped his head to his hands as he heard Sirius take a shuddering breath. They were in Remus and Sirius’ bedroom, now. Remus could picture Sirius’ face trembling.

“Night night, Harry. I love you.”

“Love you, Padfoo.”

Remus’ head fell in between his knees and his eyes gave up trying. His tears dropped to the ground. His shoulders shook. He did his best to keep his breathing down, both for the baby in the next room and for the man trying to help the baby to sleep. But a few sorrowful noises crept out anyway, from deep in his throat where he had no control.

He wanted to sob without care for the people in his apartment. He wanted to lock the bathroom door shut and stand in the shower until the heat burned him away. He wanted to walk into his bedroom and stare at the man inside and feel reassured, but instead he sat and cried as silently as possible and listened as Harry’s breathing steadied and Sirius walked to the doorway of the bathroom.

Remus watched Sirius’s feet as they shifted weight.

“I left–” Sirius coughed. “I left the door open,” he continued hoarsely. “Just a bit. I wanted to be… if he needs anything.”

Remus nodded. He peered at Sirius’ face. He blinked up his lashes, the tears dripping off.

Sirius convulsed, instantly, his mouth scrunching and the corners of his eyes turning down.

“Re.”

His voice was a shell of itself and the two stared at each other and knew the other needed a hug–no, not a hug, that was too proper a sentiment for what they needed. The two stared at each other and knew the other needed human contact, arms wrapped around each other and fingers digging into the other’s back, pressing closer until their heartbeats could echo each other. They needed to shove their noses into the crook of their boyfriend’s neck and shake and hold each other up as the other struggled to stand. They needed to stumble to their room and crawl under the covers on either side of Harry Potter and grip hands and stare at him and each other.

But Sirius had thought (or still did think) that Remus would betray them all.

And Remus had thought (and his stomach wouldn’t stop insisting) that Sirius had betrayed the boy and girl they had grown up with.

This was a difficult, deep in his gut feeling to push aside.

Sirius cleared his throat. “I don’t know where…” he shuddered. “I don’t know where to find Peter. I want to–”

Remus stood abruptly and walked forward. “You aren’t leaving.”

“No,” Sirius frowned, “I know, I’m not leaving you and Harry–”

“No,” Remus clarified, “you aren’t leaving because you could send them all back here.”

Sirius startled back. “Remus, I–you seriously–”

“No, I,” Remus pressed his hands to his head. “I can’t do this in the bathroom. Move.” He needed more space, to be able to pace. He looked into his bedroom and saw the bundle of blankets on the bed where Harry breathed softly.

“He’s asleep,” Sirius said quietly from behind him. “He’s peaceful right now.”

Remus could feel Sirius’ heat. If he leaned back, Sirius would catch him.

“You thought I would betray you,” he spat out, spinning to see the instant torture on Sirius’ face.

“I–I did not know. Peter is our friend–” Sirius glanced at the open bedroom door and backed up. Remus knew he was trying to shield Harry from the noise. Remus knew there was no way either of them would use a charm to separate the two of them from Harry right now, even just a Quietening one. Remus didn’t know what to make of it all.

“I am your…” Remus shook his head, hands kneading on his temple. “Fuck, I’m nothing to you.”

“You are my soul.”

“No, I’m not. I am clearly not. I would never harm them, I would die before–”

“You thought I had–”

“I have evidence!” Remus hissed. Sirius’ entire face sunk. “What the hell did you have, Sirius?”

Sirius wept. “I had–we had doubts.”

Remus punched out a breath again. “They doubted my loyalty too?”

Sirius lifted his eyes to the ceiling. “You were away often. You were unresponsive when you were here, it… it was hard to know what was going on with you.”

“You were living with me.”

Sirius jerked his head at the past tense. Remus held the eye contact; he did not get to pull emotions here. He would defend himself or Remus would stun him.

“I figured if something was actually going on, I would figure it out sooner or later, but James and Lily, they didn’t have that–”

Sirius fell to the couch and rested his head in between his knees, palms covering his face.

Remus bit down hard on his lip. James and Lily didn’t have that kind of time.

“They…” The sentence died in his throat.

Sirius met his hesitant stare. “James had fallen by the doorway,” he whispered. “Lily was in Harry’s room. Harry was in his crib, um, just… staring at her.” He shuddered and the tears began a new flow. “He lifted his arms and called my name when I walked in, asking for Lily and James as we…” his voice lowered to just a breath, “passed them.”

Sirius curled forward more and Remus could no longer tell the difference between his own heaving cries and breaths for sustenance.

Remus crouched down in front of Sirius and pulled both wands out of his pocket. He set them on the table and bit his lip.

Sirius looked up through his lashes. Not at the wands, not at the table.

Remus frowned and chewed his lower lip.

Sirius shuddered out another sob and held Remus’ gaze. “I did not murder James and Lily.” He blinked and tears rushed out. “I did not betray our family.”

Remus moved forward, into Sirius and on to the couch. Remus wrapped one of his legs around Sirius’ hips and pulled him close, his hand clutching at Sirius’ shoulders, Sirius grabbing both the front and back of Remus’ shirt, his curled and smokey hair tickling the bottom of Remus’ chin and then taking over all of Remus’ senses as he pressed his face into the top of Sirius’ head. He wrapped his arms around Sirius’ back and the two rocked back and forth.

“Remus, Re–” Sirius sobbed.

“I–” Remus shut his eyes so the whole world turned black. “I’m so sorry.”

Remus grabbed him tighter.

[katherinewilliams221b]

For A Greater Good 18/18

not my gif

He Who Must Not Be Named

Summary: Kate Williams, young healer and member of the Order,  joins Durmstrang’s staff at Dumbledore’s request. Her mission? Find a     Death Eater and survive long enough to tell the story. Set in 1996.

Pairing: Charlie Weasley x ofc/mc

Masterlist

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5]

[Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9] [Part 10]

[Part 11] [Part 12] [Part 13] [Part 14]

[Part 15] [Part 16] [Part 17]

A/N: bold lines are from the book Harry Potter and The Order of The Phoenix

Severus Snape emerged from the shadows to stand in front of his ally.

“I was starting to think you wouldn’t come, Severus.” The voice of Albus Dumbledore was, as expected, steady and confident. “Do you have it?”

Snape approached him, eying the room with suspicion. It was the first time he had stepped inside Dumbledore’s hiding place, but despite he trusted the man, a chill ran down his spine. Keeping a stoic expression, he reached inside his robes and handed him a rolled piece of parchment.

“She had it with her. As you said.”

Dumbledore unrolled the document and nodded slowly. Another name wrote itself with the others.

“It is vital that Cornelius sees Voldemort first. After that, I will personally make sure that this information reaches the aurors.” The bearded man walked to the end of the room; the dim light of a candle outlined Fawkes’ silhouette.

“My name appears on that list.” Snape watched Dumbledore’s hand halt in the air. He turned around and with challenging eyes, he stared at him as he unrolled the parchment again. Turning his gaze back to the paper, Dumbledore pursed his lips together as if he was going to whistle and with a light blow, the name ‘Severus Snape’ left the paper in the form of black ashes.

He looked up at the potions teacher from up his glasses. Snape nodded.

“What happened to Yankelevich?”

“She will be brought to Nurmergard” The phoenix moved so his master could slide the parchment under him. “Attempted murder, at least.”

“I don’t understand why you sent Williams. Yankelevich wasn’t an immediate threat and Alastor could have done it faster and more efficiently.”

Dumbledore turned and put his hands behind his back. “You underestimate her. She’s learnt fast, and listened to your instructions, didn’t she? You were busy training Harry to notice, of course, but her occlumency skills have improved enormously, and she’s been practising how to communicate with Mr Weasley.”

“You said she would, yes…”

“Well, she refused using her patronus to communicate, and she needed to be away from him to practise.” He opened his mouth to say something else, but he reconsider it. At Snape’s piercing stare, he kept going, “Astrid knew someone was up to no good and needed a favour, however,” he pointed at Fawkes’ nest “that was my goal.”

He walked to the nearest chair and sat down, grabbing a goblet from the table. Before sipping, he caught how Snape’s jaw tensed. “Besides, Alastor’s never run freely around a castle, breaking rules and finding places he is not supposed to enter. She has.”

“How did she know how to find it?”

“I said her skills had improved, not that they were better than mine. I might have… given her a small guidance.” He raised his hand up to his temple’s level and brushed his index and thumb together. “ I was certain that Karkarov knew about the existence of the room. It was the most logical place to hide it.”

“Where is he now?” demanded Snape.

Dumbledore looked at his partner with amused eyes, but corrected his demeanour quickly. “I have no idea. I mistakenly believed he would be in the forest. I sent a letter to Katherine in hopes she would meet him there. Turns out, he is smarter than I thought.”

“It won’t be long until He finds out Karkarov’s writing that.” Snape pointed at Fawkes’s nest, and the bird chirped unhappily.

“I know.” He tsked and took a sip from his beverage, “But it was his choice.”

“What are you going to do until then?”

“We’ll wait. That spell is not easy to perform. We’ll let him write as much as he can.” They fell silent for a long while, lost in their thoughts, until Dumbledore spoke again.

“When?”

“Tomorrow. He wants the prophecy.”

“Of course. Of course…” he stood up and crossed his hands in front of him and searched in his companion’s black eyes. Snape reached inside his sleeve and took out a small vial with a silver liquid in it. He handed it to Dumbledore, who read the tag ‘K. Williams. Durmstrang’.

“She will not remember the names.”

With one last nod, Albus Dumbledore observed how his confidant dissolved in the air.

--

Katherine Williams awoke for the second time in the same Grimmauld Place’s cold room. She let the sun rays hit her eyelids and savoured the memory of Charlie’s firm body against her own.

When she reached behind her, only cold sheets wished her a good morning.

Promise me something. Promise me you’ll wake me up to say goodbye.

She stared at the pillow next to her and sighed. To be fair, he didn’t make such a promise. He didn’t say anything at all.

Putting her disappointment aside, she prepared herself for one of the most exhausting whirlwinds one could face: the loving care of Molly Weasley.

Sitting up with her back against the headboard, she stretched her neck to the side and had to do a double take at the nightstand.

A pink flower with orange undertones sat beside a piece of paper that was folded in half. Her stomach flipped, and she considered forgiving him for leaving.

A snapdragon for the strongest of flowers.

I hope this wasn’t a one-time thing. Owl me.

“Oh, shut up!” Kate whispered, but a chuckle escaped her mouth, anyway.

Movement on the other side of the door startled her, and she hid the note under the pillow before quickly hiding herself behind the covers.

The doorknob turned, and Mrs Weasley entered the room.

“Oh, thank Godric you are alright!” Molly was by her side in four long strides and cradled Kate’s head in her hands. “How are you feeling? Charles told me you woke up last night. You look pale. Did you rest?”

“Yes, Mrs Weasley, I’m fine. My head is spinning a little, though.”

“Of course, of course, let me see that arm.”

Internally complaining, Kate let her put the cream on her arm and tend the bruises of her neck.  She didn’t have the courage to tell her that wouldn’t make the scar disappear. When she finished, Molly nodded with a satisfied smile and proceeded to pick up the clothes that were scattered on the floor. Kate held her breath during the entire the process.

“This boy... tsk... taught him better than this! At least he could have brought his clothes with him…” Kate wasn’t sure if she was oblivious or if she was giving them a green card because they weren’t at The Burrow. In any case, she felt the need to take Charlie off the hook.

“I’m sorry, that’s my fault, Charlie let me use his clothes after I showered and when I went to sleep... they were bothering me.” That wasn’t exactly a lie. She gestured her neck to point at her bruises and then remembered that maybe there were ones more recent, that she did not want to explain. Charlie had never left a mark on her, but that night he felt a tad possessive and she wasn’t sure he could be trusted.

Although Molly hadn’t commented on them while she was applying the cream, the younger witch rested her hand there, trying to appear casual. Just in case.

“Ah, don’t worry, dear.” Molly waved her free hand nonchalantly and went to pick her cloak from the floor. While putting on the robe that Charlie had left at the end of the bed, Kate remembered that she technically stole the uniform band.

“Oh, this is warm! What a nice coat!” She waved the magically warmed piece of clothing, admiring it, and something the size of a matchbox flew across the room in doing so. “Oh! I’m so sorry, I always check the pockets and now look at this!” She murmured something under her breath and went to pick up the mysterious object, but Kate interrupted her.

“I’ll get it, don’t worry.”

“Very well, then. I made you some breakfast, but it’s already cold, Charlie made me swear I would let you sleep in!” She laughed and when she was crossing the threshold, she added, “Arthur got your trunk, it’s downs… ah!”

Mr Weasley appeared from behind her with a smile on his face and his hands on her waist.

“Oh, not you too, Arthur, I have enough with your sons apparating everywhere…”

His husband ignored her with a laugh and entered the room, her trunk following him in the air.

“Special delivery!” He roared.

“Thank you so much, Mr Weasley.” He approached Kate, and after hugging her shoulders with an arm, he kissed the top of her head. “You scared us the other day, eh?” He squeezed her. “But, let’s thank Godric you are safe and sound! I must go to work now, if you’ll excuse me…”

“I’m fine, really. We healers recover quickly. Tonks filled me in, and I’m feeling alright.”

“Alright, then. I’ll let you change.” Molly placed a hand on her own cheek for a moment and left the room without another word.

The moment Mrs Weasley closed the door behind her, Kate spooned around and crawled down the wooden desk to retrieve the small object.

Placing it on her palm, she murmured ‘engorgio’, making the tiny leather journal grow to its original size.

Letters, maps, notes, names, drawings, and a full research on how to magically cross plant species were contained in that notebook. The past six months were portrayed in those pieces of paper, and their value was incalculable.

Looking up, she faced one of the obscure paintings that belonged to the Black family. Kate stared at a woman standing on a bridge in what appeared to be a forest, and a question formed in her mind. She needed to go to St. Mungo’s.

 Convincing Molly that she could go alone to the hospital was harder than the mission she just came from. After a diluted Invigoration Draught and some help from Lupin, she managed to step out of Grimmauld Place.

She didn’t feel ready to apparate, and she doubted she would ever be, so she enjoyed her walk through the streets of the city. With the muggle money that Lupin gave her, she jumped on the first underground station she saw and followed his directions.

She got comfortable on an empty seat and observed the people on the train car. When she saw a couple getting handsy in a corner, a wave of sadness washed over her, and had to look away.

She missed Charlie terribly. The night before was too desperate and rushed, she didn’t have time to savour the moment. She didn’t even ask him about his mission with the giants, about his dragons, or about how he felt all that time alone at home. Being on a mission kept her head occupied for most of the time, but now, with nothing to do, she anticipated some time of loneliness.

She brought her hand to her chest, and her heart ached even more when she couldn’t find the necklace that Charlie had gifted her many years before. No. Stop it. You’ll get answers and study your notes and then... and then you will have to explain to Dumbledore you lost an important document that could have saved lives. Brilliant.

Soft clapping noises brought her back to reality. A woman in front of her was struggling to hold an excited baby on her lap. Kate observed the child and smiled when his little finger touched her mother’s nose. The baby turned his head and stared at Kate for a while before raising his arm to wave at her. She chuckled and returned the greeting, her trip improving slightly and temporarily.

 Walking through St Mungo’s doors had a mixed effect of nostalgia and excitement. She had spent many hours in that hospital studying, training, and learning, and all of a sudden, she was fresh out of Hogwarts again, with all the emotions that implied. Taking a deep breath, she walked through the corridor and started searching for her first mentor and boss, Madame Louise.

She scanned the faces of the healers that were working, rapidly treating the patients like frantic ants recollecting their food.

“Williams?” Kate turned at the deep voice calling her and recognised the robust middle-aged woman in front of her. “What brings you here? I thought you were working in Romania?”

“Hello, Madame Louise, yes, well I was… working there. But I’m here as a patient today.”

Madame Louise frowned and looked at Kate up and down before giving a curt nod.

“Wait on that bed.” She said before turning and walking away.

Kate sat as directed and stared at the beautiful glass stained windows of the place.

“I request you let me go right now! This is nonsense.” She could recognise that firm voice anywhere. To her right Professor McGonagall was lying on one of the beds and arguing with a boy that Kate figured he was wishing he hadn’t been born.

She walked towards them and put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I’ll take it from here, thank you.”

“Who are you? You are not a healer; Madame Louise will hear about this.”

“Mister, this young woman knows more than you, do us all a favour and go with your mother.” Intervened McGonagall.

“I heard Jared O’Leary was looking for you.” The boy shifted in his place and nodded nervously before leaving them alone.

“Professor, what happened?” Kate’s healer mode activated and started scanning McGonagall for injuries and signals of distress.

“Oh, Williams, a lot is been happening this past year. I can imagine you’ve been informed?”

“Vaguely. I arrived two days ago from…”

“I know.”

Kate grabbed the file at the foot of the bed and read the report on McGonagall’s state.

“Four stunning spells to the chest?” She looked up and asked with her eyes, but her professor wasn’t in a mood for a talk.

“Williams, I must get out of here and go back to Hogwarts. I’m afraid it’s going to be too late by the time they let me go.”

“Professor, you could faint just by… too late for what?”

“Williams!” Madame Louise motioned her to come closer. Kate hesitated, but followed the mediwizard to a quieter space. “What happens to be the problem?”

“I’ve been poisoned two days ago.”

“In that case you should have come earlier, don’t you think?”

“There’s been… complications. I wanted to ask you if it’s possible to poison someone without using a vial or a potion or, I don’t know, food or drinks.”

The woman hummed and crossed her arms in front of her. “That’s rather strange.”

“Is this…” Kate moved the collar of the shirt to the side, revealing the red marks that hadn’t disappeared yet. “… a possible way?”

Louise grabbed the glasses that were hanging by a chain around her neck and placed them on the tip of her nose to inspect the injuries.

“The poison could have been injected with some kind of needle, but the shape of these marks means claws or… nails.”

She took her glasses off and waved them while talking. “I imagine it is possible, but you must have a very twisted mind to carry around poison in your nails. Also, you need to be very careful, a bad placement of the poison can cause yourself to get ill. In what kind of troubles are you getting into, Williams?”

“It’s a story for another day.”

 “Madame Louise, I can’t find Jared O’Leary…” The boy that was treating McGonagall appeared from behind Kate.

“What are you talking about? Go back to work! Naturally, you can’t find him. He doesn’t work here anymore!”

“But she…”

“Is every patient cured, Mr Boyle?” Kate slid away from the conversation to where Professor McGonagall was resting.

“I suddenly feel tired…”

Kate nodded and checked that the potions on her nightstand were filled and in order. A hand grabbed her wrist, and she turned to look at McGonagall.

“Katherine. You must find Potter. Something terrible is about to happen.”

Kate frowned and got closer to her former professor’s face.

“The Ministry. Try the Ministry,” she whispered.

Kate didn’t think twice. She ran all she could to the underground station, receiving some odd glances from the surrounding people.

When she arrived at the Ministry stop, she could sense the commotion even from the muggles that were passing by.

“A gas leak.” She heard while climbing up the mechanic stairs. Some people complained at her rudeness, but she couldn’t stop and apologise at the moment.

“There’s the press. Those vultures. It was probably a problem with plumbing. Look! The water reached the first floor!” A man said.

Kate tried to walk among the curious souls that were conglomerated around the building and recognised the protection bubble that was forming around it. She slid under it with ease.

“But I heard an explosion! I’m telling you!” a woman said to a journalist.

She tried to enter the building, but what seemed to be an auror stopped her.

“Let me in! I’m a healer!”

The man remained stoic and grabbed her arm.

“Identification?”

“I… I don’t have it right now but…”

“You can’t go in, Miss” She tried to get rid of him and she almost succeeded, but when the doors to the Ministry opened, she stopped the struggle. Four aurors walked out the building protecting several figures that walked behind them. She tried to reach them, but the security guard grabbed her again.

“You are the cursed girl! Daily Prophet here! Are you involved in the accident? How do you think your father will react to this? How do you think this is connected to your brother?”

“I’m not…” dumbfounded by the flash of a camera, she tried to escape from the journalists.

“Miss Williams! Miss Williams! What can you tell us about the person who died?”

She couldn’t hear anything, see anything, someone pushed her, and she felt another flash of a camera. Her head was spinning.

Cornelius Fudge stepped out of the building and pointed his wand at his neck. He cleared his throat and all the attention was directed at him.

“It is with great regret that I must confirm that the wizard styling himself Lord… well, you know who I mean… is alive and among us again.”

--

[Epilogue]

--

Tag List:

@eldritchscreech​

@meteora-fc​

@cazreadsstuff

@the-navistar-carol​

@am-i-space​

[supercantaloupe]

@dimension20alphabet prompt fill #4: dreams

title: Following Signs - campaign: Fantasy High: Sophomore Year - 1141 words - set leading up to s2e7.

For as long as Ayda can remember, she has dreamed of something.

For her whole life -- or, at least, this incarnation of it -- Ayda has dreamed of something. As a young one under the watchful care of Garthy she couldn’t place what it was exactly, despite feeling it gnaw and tug at her heart inside her all the time. She’d feel it when she would see Garthy laughing, chatting, schmoozing, charming effortlessly the patrons of their beloved Gold Gardens, and the familiar faces with whom they seemed to get along particularly well. Ayda studied them so closely from her table in the corner, instructed to eat her dinner and not wander off (lest her little eyes see something they oughtn’t yet), taking notes in a journal with a quill plucked from her own wing. The ink dried almost instantaneously with this pen; she crossed a lot of things out as she wrote, correction after correction after correction.

She wondered at first, perhaps, if her dream was to have a home as lively and hospitable as the Gold Gardens. But she already had a home: that grand library up in Crow’s Keep she’d already spent lifetimes curating. (Her notes said so. Garthy said so.) But it was as an adolescent when she first began to understand what she dreamt of. 

At 12, she took an interest in the divination books of her extensive collection of wizard tomes. More than any other school, they fascinated her. The words on these pages told her that with diligence and study and practice, she could divine the nature of the universe, of prophecy, of dream. She poured over her books, and began writing a new one of her one: a journal, always slung safely from a belt round her hip, close at hand when she sleeps perched in the rafters to write anything and everything she can remember of her dreams. 

At 13, she discovers her Friendship Section. The year’s worth of subconscious thoughts and scrambled attempts at deciphering their meanings scratched into her journal now focused into crystal-clear understanding: this was her dream. This was what she’d been dreaming of, not just in this lifetime but before, too.

She could run her fingers along the rows and rows of books that neatly lined the shelves here, and read them all cover-to-cover over the next five years, yet never make any new progress. She could study Garthy’s interactions again, but failed utterly and miserably to replicate their successes when she tried for herself. She could ponder for hours and hours over every dream -- for she still had them most nights -- to unwind their meanings, what they were telling her. They had to mean something. They had to be foretelling something. She’s been studying divination, too, and she’s quite good at it now. Not just in dreams, she can see it, but there are signs everywhere: the drift of the city under the stars, the leaves of tea swirled in the bottom of her empty cup.

One day as Rawlins sweeps up sand on the floor of the observatory, she screeches for him to halt and flies down. “Wait!” she commands, very carefully maneuvering her landing so as not to blow any grains astray. The old pirate grunts his confusion as the wizard bends over the messy floor, intently staring down, memorizing the patterns in the sand. It spells out something, she can just feel it. With another screech, she takes off again and flies up to her perch, producing her journal and immediately opening it to write something.

“Mistress, the sand?” Rawlins croaks.

“Back to work, Rawlins!” Ayda commands again, not looking up.

Her dream, last night, something was different about it. The leaves in her tea that morning had been strange. Now, the sand, swept across the floor in patterns that couldn’t possibly be mere coincidence. She combs through her fortune telling books, trying to divine what is meant by it all, what is coming. All she can tell is that something is coming, and soon, something big.

That night she stays out til dawn, searching the sky and all its stars for answers. She feels her heart stir, and wonders if this is her dream.

Being up all night, she naps through the morning on her perch in the observatory. She doesn’t dream this time; odd. Something is up. 

She’s awoken from her sleep by the sound of unfamiliar young voices. She screeches awake and takes off, landing in a flourish of flame before the group, and looking them over. Strange-looking adolescents, like her. 

They chatter and giggle among themselves as though she cannot hear. “Guys, guys, I think this is the creature Arthur Aguefort made for me.” “No.” “No!” “This is a full person. This is a full, sentient person.” “It was kind of wishful thinking!” “Fig, you should feed it.” “What are you, I , excuse--”

One of them holds out a hand of food. Ayda stares at them. “Do you offer this food to me as a gift?”

The person blinks. “Yes.”

“Then I do not accept. I will be in no one’s debt as a wizard.”

“Oh, okay.” They shrug and eat the food themself. Ayda cocks her head to the side, perplexed.

“Are you now in your own debt?” she asks. 

They chatter amongst themselves again. “Are you eating birdseed?” “I owe myself.” “Aren’t we all in our own debt?”

Ayda’s eyes widen slightly and she nods curiously. “Oh, are we all in our debt?” Something in her chest begins to burn a little. The patterns in the stars, the sand, the tea leaves, there is a resemblance here, coming back to the front of her memory.

They are noisy, and they are rowdy, and they are rude, and very confusing and overwhelming. But more than anything else, they are compelling. And Ayda watches them jabber and jostle and stumble over themselves to talk with her and she sees in them what she has always been missing, what she has always been dreaming of. And her longing for it burns more brightly now than ever, with it so close. 

“150 gold pieces and I will honor this favor for my friend Garthy O'Brien and give you the spell,” she offers to the group, after a frankly ridiculous amount of distraction and tangenting for one conversation. The blonde elf of their group hands her the money and Ayda leads her off into the library. Her friends spread out to explore other sections on their own, but as they walk together, the elf talks lightly about what she and her friends are here for, about their quest and her magic. 

When Ayda gets her settled into a study space with the necessary books on Sending, she leaves her be to work alone. As she goes, she produces her dream journal and makes a note. Check back later -- this is your dream.

[cosmic-hearts]

castles in the air | lee donghyuck | epilogue

lee donghyuck x female reader 

genre; enemies-to-lovers, friendship, romance, fluff, angst

warnings; none

foreword; in which you might be a real-life princess with a prince promised to you right from the start, but you won’t be getting your happy ever after. 

<< previous 

2 years later 

Fairy lights illuminate the darkened streets of Hongdae, and everywhere you go, you see groups of friends trooping about and couples huddled close together. For a moment, you feel a bitter pang of loneliness, conscious of how glaringly isolated you appear, but then you tell yourself that you’re walking with a purpose, and you’re not meant to be milling aimlessly about like these carefree youngsters around you. 

Just like it always has been. 

You remember when you were younger, you wished you could chill with friends in a cafe in Hongdae, the neighbourhood brimming with the vitality of youthful hearts. But you were always either busy studying or attending social functions, and you hung out more with adults than people your age. Of course, there was a time when you acted like a normal teenager for once; you went to a high school party, got stuck in a musty closet with a boy who had an angelic voice, and you got so wasted that said boy had to haul your drunk ass home. 

You went to cafes with him; he dirtied your favourite bag, but he got you a new one to make up for it. He sang you songs on the hood of his car, beneath the cloak of stars that sheltered you both. He took you to prom and told you that you were pretty; you had never seen him so shy before. He kissed you once, breathing starlight into your soul and fire into your veins. And he even gave you a song, wrote a melody into your heart that you find yourself humming occasionally, till this very day. 

You pull your scarf tighter around your neck as a gust of chilly air blows across your cheek, sweeping up the fallen leaves scattered across the sidewalk. All that’s left of the boy now are nothing more than bittersweet memories, a silent echo of what could have been. You don’t like to dwell on it too much; there’s simply no point. You’d stopped building castles in the air ages ago. 

But you’d never stopped hoping, with all your heart, that he’s finally managed to build his own castles for real. 

You cast a quick glance at your watch, jolting yourself back to reality; you had been sent by your parents to check up on the new branch of their fashion company they just had opened up at Hongdae. You are now slowly learning the ropes of running their company, getting ready to take over. You’re not sure if this is truly what you want in life—you wish you had Donghyuck’s firm innate passion for something—but for now, it gives you a vague sense of fulfilment, which is sufficient. Maybe one day you’ll find something of your own that ignites a spark within you and burns so brightly that you’ll have no choice but to pursue it in reckless, passionate abandon. 

As you walk with quickened steps and renewed purpose, the heels of your boots clacking rhythmically on the pavement, you begin to notice more and more buskers lining the street, each with crowds of people surrounding them. Most are dancing; there are a couple singers as well, and even a rapper at the end of the street. 

You’re about to turn the corner when a familiar melody halts you right in your tracks.

And it’s not just the melody; it’s that honeyed, saccharine voice you’d once thought was a celestial gift from the heavens. That voice you wanted to have on loop forever because it was too precious and beautiful to ever let go. 

Lee Donghyuck’s voice.

True enough, he sits on a high stool a few feet away, eyes closed as he sings to a small crowd around him. But he looks so immersed in his own little world that you think it’s more likely he’s singing to himself rather than performing to anyone else.

Bathed in the vivid glow of passion and completely in his own element, moonlight irradiating the planes of his face, he’s just so beautiful.

He has glossy purple hair now, and it’s tucked messily under a black cap. His fingers are closed tight around a mic in his hands as he belts out the lyrics to ‘Beautiful Time’. 

Your song. The song he wrote just for you. 

Hearing it live is truly a surreal experience. Your hands tremble slightly; you clutch your bag just a little tighter.

It’s all worth it, and you’re so glad. Seeing him like this, you know you made the right choice back then.

The song ends, and everyone breaks out into applause. It is just like that day in the cafe, when Donghyuck sang and everyone fell right under his spell, entranced by the sound of his voice. 

“Thank you,” Donghyuck says bashfully, smiling at the floor and rubbing his neck. “Actually, I wrote this song for my friend. It’s been really long since I last saw her, and… well, I really miss her.”

Your heart just about stops right there. 

“I was about to give up singing, but she was the one who persuaded me not to. And I’ll be forever grateful to her for that.”

“I hope that wherever she is, she’s happy, and I hope she always will be.”

A single tear rolls down your cheek; you wipe it away hastily. 

“All right,” Donghyuck says, grabbing the mic again. “It’s time for the last song of tonight. I hope all of you will enjoy it.”

You want, more than anything, to stay and listen to this last song, but you know that once you do that, you won’t be able to move on with your life and do what you’re supposed to do. You’ll fall in too deep, and there will be no escape this time. Donghyuck’s voice just has that power over you.

No, Donghyuck has that power over you.

So you clutch resolutely onto your Prada bag, steal one last longing look at the boy who’s held your heart hostage, and walk away.

—

Donghyuck’s about to start the last song of the night when he notices someone lurking at the edge of the audience, turning away to walk off, presumably to the next busker.

More specifically, he notices the bag the person is carrying; it is filled with pastel hues of pink, purple and blue, with a shiny triangular Prada logo right smack in the centre. It is all too strikingly familiar. 

Because he chose those colours himself. And he chose the customised design, which means that the bag can belong only to one person.

A surge of adrenaline pumps through Donghyuck’s veins; he gets up from his stool and takes off into the night, startling the little crowd around him. But he could care less.

The past two years, he’s never stopped thinking about you. He’d broken up with Sohui shortly after the prom he took you to, and he was planning to tell you just that on the night of your birthday. That you two didn’t need that stupid contract anymore, not when he thinks his heart might have finally found its home. That when he kissed you, it was like the stars aligned and he felt constellations erupt in the universe of his soul. That he was sorry for ever hating you, and he’d make it up to you in any way you wanted. But then you abruptly ended it all, cutting off all forms of contact with him and destroying all the castles he’d built in the air.

He figured you probably would never feel the same way as he did.

But that didn’t stop him from writing, singing, and dreaming about you. After all, you told him to chase his dreams, and he wouldn’t stop doing that, not for the world.

And now, you’re right there within his grasp. He’s not letting you slip away from him again.

It doesn’t take him long to catch up to you. Before you can walk any further, he grabs your wrist and you whirl around in response.

It’s really you. You look just as ethereal as ever, with your hair a moonlit cascade down your back, eyes sparkling like stars amid sundown.

“Y/N,” he breathes, just as your eyes widen at the sight of the boy you’d resolved to erase from your life standing right before you.

And it is at that moment that the castles in the air come alive.

—

a/n; aaand that’s a wrap!! tysm for all the support and the comments hehe <3 i hope you guys enjoyed this as much as i enjoyed writing it !! peace out, stay safe and healthy yall ^^ till next time :) 

[shannendoherty-fans]

People, September 9th 1991

High School Confidential

By Tom Gliatto and Michael Alexander.

Photos by Mark Sennett.

Beverly Hills, 90210 Gets Its Heat from a Dangerously Cute Cast of TV's Hottest New Stars CONFIDENTIAL MEMO: FROM: The Vice Principal TO: The Faculty, High School U.S.A. I'm sure I don't need to remind you what happened when we didn't prepare for Bart Simpson last fall. The school was flooded with rude, antieducational T-shirts. Some cows were had. Well, as a new school year gets under way, I believe we face another daunting challenge: Brace yourselves for Beverly Hills, 90210. That's the Fox drama about unworldly twin teens Brandon and Brenda Walsh (played by Jason Priestley and Shannen Doherty), recent transferees from Minneapolis to the Hills of Beverly. There they struggle to assimilate into the fast-lane lifestyle of West Beverly Hills High School, where the kids come equipped with BMWs, call waiting and designer surfboards. In the process, the teens examine their emerging identities and the problems that adolescents everywhere face.

The show languished in the Nielsen ratings against Thursday powerhouse Cheers last year. But Fox had no replacement, so it stayed. While we were on summer vacation, new 90210 episodes began airing, and the show landed in the Top 20, becoming the most popular show among teenagers. To some extent, I take responsibility for having ignored 90210. I made the mistake of reading newspaper critics instead of my daughter's diary, and so I believed, as Howard Rosenberg sniffed in the Los Angeles Times, that the show was merely a "ZIP code for stereotypes and stock characters." Little did I know that this show would mesmerize teens by doing emotionally realistic shows that involved adolescent rebellion, alcoholic; parents, a breast-cancer scare and plenty of worrisome teen sex. "Most shows for adolescents," says 90210 creator Darren Star, "seem like they are written by 50-year-olds who think teenagers behave like 7-year-olds."

It also doesn't hurt that the show's male stars, Priestley and Luke Perry (who plays brooding loner Dylan McKay), are "to die for," as my daughter puts it. These two have each been receiving about 1,500 fan letters a week. So be vigilant: Surely some of these will be written by our students...during class! And I'm afraid that 90210 is only going to get bigger with our kids, if producer Aaron Spelling is to be believed. "I thought The Mod Squad and Charlie's Angels got a lot of publicity in their heyday," says Spelling, whose company produced those shows, "but it doesn't compare to this. It's crazy. We have merchandising coming out of our ears"—a complete line of T-shirts, beach towels, notebooks, etc. "And now these actors can't walk down the street!"

Or even streak through malls. You probably saw those alarming news reports about a frenzied mob of 10,000 fans that stampeded Perry when he appeared at a south Florida mall last month. "It's a little scary," says Perry. Scarier is the amount of time students will waste this fall discussing Luke. And Jason. And who is sexier. I provide some information on the two. Jason Priestley, 22, plays Brandon Walsh, a model of thoughtful level-headedness. In real life, however, the brown-haired, blue-eyed star, who started acting in commercials at age 4 and played an orphan on that very nice NBC sitcom Sister Kate, is no Oliver Twist. He likes dirt bikes, bungee jumping and is a chain-smoker (just about the whole cast puffs it up—but not on-camera). Vancouver-born Priestley likes to hang out in Las Vegas. As for his real romantic life, he was reportedly dating actress Robin (Doogie Howser, M.D.) Lively last spring, but it seems likely that now he is too busy for such dalliance;. He must be on the set 14 hours a day, five days a week. To avoid ever-present fans, Priestley says, "I look different from my character when I'm just walking around. I don't shave, I don't dress like Brandon."

On the show, 26-year-old Luke Perry (Brenda Walsh's boyfriend, Dylan) sports a leather jacket, dagger sideburns and a squint that spells t-r-o-u-b-l-e. Although he grew up and graduated from high school in Fredericktown, Ohio, he seems to have attended James Dean wise-guy classes. Perry, who played country-boy Ned Bates on the ABC soap Loving, entertains the 90210 cast by strutting around bare-chested making jokes. Does he have a girlfriend? "No. You know how I can get in touch with Linda Hamilton?" What kind of music does he listen to? "Tom Jones is awesome." Are he and Priestley ever mistaken for each other? "He's mistaken for me on his good days." And 90210, he says, is "the best show on television, except for Jeopardy!" We should act quickly, faculty, when we see any signs that Beverly Hills, 90210 is disrupting normal student activity.

How abnormal might things get? Consider: "It's almost like there are cults," says Brian Austin Green, 18, the North Hollywood High grad who plays the cutely dweeby David Silver. "Girls go to school the day after the show, and they actually become these characters. They say, 'Okay, today I want to be Dylan, you can be Brenda, you can be Brandon.' " Needless to say, students caught pretending to be TV characters should be brought directly to my office for detention. But you know, it might not be a bad thing if our students could show some of the good sense that the 90210ers display in coping with the pressures of fame and fortune. Jennie Garth, 19, who plays the very sexy, very blond, very snotty Kelly Taylor, is particularly admirable. The youngest of seven children, she grew up on a farm near Champaign, Ill., until her schoolteacher parents moved to Phoenix when she was 13. "Living in a small town and coming from a very tight and close family instilled a lot of standards that I need to live up to," says Garth, who just bought a home in Sherman Oaks. She also recently supplied her parents with the down payment for their new home, setting a splendid example for today's youth.

According to a tabloid that someone left in the faculty lounge, Memphis-raised Shannen Doherty, 20, a veteran of such wonderful shows as Little House: A New Beginning, is the only cast member to be accused of behaving like "a spoiled brat" on the set. But she maintains she is no such thing. "I think everybody gets in a bad mood," Shannen says. "You do not work 16-hour days and not start feeling it. But I have never thrown a tantrum. I've gotten upset on the set, but it's never been just to be a bitch. You have to stand up for yourself in this business. That was something I was told when I was 12 years old and working with Michael Landon."

As with about half the cast members, Doherty is in a relationship—in her case, a real-estate developer with whom she's exchanged commitment rings. "You really have to date a while before you decide if this is the person you want to marry," she says with Brenda-like candor. Almost sounds like the relationship could be a future 90210 plot. "The problems of young people have accelerated," says Aaron Spelling, "and so have their feelings and thoughts." The show, he says, has kept pace: Even with their Clearasil-perfect complexions and plump allowances, the students at Beverly Hills have encountered their share of problems. "We had the guts to make Luke Perry be a member of AA," says Spelling. "We had Jason, our star, drinking and driving. That's reality."

And, apparently, the adulatory fan mail often includes a sad dose of that reality. "I got a letter the other day from a girl who mentioned the show we did on parental drug abuse," says Perry in a rare moment of seriousness. "She wrote about catching her father freebasing in the basement. I get letters like that all the time, from people all over the country." Gabrielle Carteris (at age 30, she's 90210's oldest cast-kid), who plays Andrea Zuckerman, the bright student who comes from the wrong side of Rodeo Drive, remembers an encouraging close encounter in a grocery store. "One girl came up to me after we'd done the breast-cancer show," says Carteris. "She said, 'I went home with all my friends and we checked our breasts for lumps.' "

In conclusion: Maybe I didn't need to write this memo. Maybe things won't be that bad, even if every locker in every corridor has a picture of Jason, Luke, Shannen or Jennie in it. Perhaps our dear little school is more like West Beverly Hills High—at least the TV version—than I thought. That's what Ian Ziering, 27, thinks too. "The reality on the show pretty much mirrors the way life is all over, in terms of teenagers," says New Jersey—bred Ziering, who once did Fruit of the Loom underwear ads and now plays 90210's curly-headed jock, Steve Sanders. "There's a mystique about Beverly Hills. But that's not what keeps people tuning in. The show could have been Montana E-I-E-I-O." By the way, should any student pronounce his name "eee-an," correct him or her, please. It's "eye-an."

-- WHEN BEVERLY HILLS, 90210 PREMIERED last October, Highlights, the student newspaper at Beverly Hills High, ran articles mocking the school's TV counterpart, West Beverly Hills High. "They said that the show was a joke," says Jenny Brandt, 14, a sophomore at the 1,900-student school. But as the story lines improved and Jason Priestley and Luke Perry became stars, the jokes stopped, and Brandt found herself, like many of her pals, glued to the set on Thursday nights from 9 to 10 P.M. "No phone calls allowed," says Brandt. "Except during commercials." Hope Levy, a 17-year-old senior, has taken fandom a step further with her friends. "We have little handmade cards," she says, speaking from her mom's car phone. "They say you're a member of Club 90210." While some kids think the show treats them as snobby stereotypes, most agree with sophomore Jordan Rynes when he says, "It's like a soap opera for teens. The shows dealing with drinking and drugs are the most real—adults don't realize how accurate it is."

[namjoonchronicles]

cognac & nicotine | nj

↳ pairing namjoon, you

↳ genre drama, suggestive smut, fluff

↳ words 2k

↳ warnings no chill, hidden love, pining on each other but too prideful to admit, namjoon’s a lawyer, graphic description of bed scene, nicotines and alcohol abuse, i miss writing namjoon and got a little frisky

“Don’t catch feelings.”

Fast forward for about three months, and you’re tangled in his sheets, woken up by the sound of the front door clicking shut. The cologne he wore left lingering in the room you shared just a few hours before. His side of the bed is empty, obviously, but there’s a note by the bedside table that sparks a smile on your face. Careful not to let the sheets reveal your bareness underneath, you scooted over to it to see them clearer, and what he wrote in scraggly writings,

“You’ve been served.” With a smiley at the end.

It made you chuckle, how his sophisticated humor eases in. Within these four walls, you still feel a little shy to what it has witnessed. There's the sound of the busy traffic travelling up his penthouse and strangely, it felt like home. It didn’t really register into your brain how massive this ordeal is until you try to step out of his bed and felt the need to clutch onto something to help you walk. You bit your smile and found relief in the fact that he wasn’t watching. He would have made fun of it until the ends of the earth. Looks like he was right, you’ve technically been served.

His lawyer robe disappeared from the hangers, and so is his document bag. That suggests that he left for work already. Which was good for him because you wouldn’t have let him leave if you see him in his black-white attire. Those long trousers, extending his long legs, belt buckle and the white dress shirt underneath his blazers and cufflinks--simply spell erogenous to you. He knows he captivates you in those fit and knows how to use them against you. There’s toast on the table that he spreads with butter and coffee mug ready underneath the coffee maker, still piping hot. There’s traces of his hobbies in this house; the photos he took, the boxing gloves, the figurine collectibles, his anime CDs--he’s just a big little boy.

There’s a bookshelf in the corner of the living room that just represents the lawyer in him. They’re neatly arranged, in alphabetical order, colors, and editions.The books are heavily manifested with notes and scribbles once you flipped them open, and it shows how hard he studies or how confused he was. All the question marks between this pages. He makes you smile even when he’s not here. This is another level of infatuation, now, isn’t it?

Infatuation, the word resonates in your mind.

How do you navigate this? How do you tell your father, his boss?

How will you explain those breathless wars on top of his desk at work when no one is around? How he pushes you against the file cabinet and devours you with his mouth, leaving handprints on your ass? How he has you sprawled on the files he’s supposed to read because you wouldn’t stop sparking his mind, into the dirty things you could be doing? Or how the late night drives almost always turn into something else? How sins taste like nicotine and cognac, laced on his tongue dancing with yours in the depth of night, in the backseat of his car. Soft music playing in the background and all you feel is his hand on your skin, your name in desperate whispers.

How would you explain the way his eyes look at you like he’s undressing you in his mind, amidst the office meeting you had no role in? How can you explain the way his hand cupped your buttcheeks in the lift, far in the back when no one saw and the flirtatious smile that’s thrown everywhere but to you? You know damn well that you would put your life through hell if your parents knew. Now that you’re in his penthouse, your fears began to pile on, one by one. You start listing the things that you hated about him, hoping it will make you hate him.

Those intentional touches, lingering stares from across the room, and how you find excuses to be at the office longer than you should. All those needs to stop.

Why is it that, when happiness finally finds you, you chase it away? Because happiness doesn't last? Because your past has proven to you that it is temporary and you wanted forever but you know it doesn’t exist. When your friends scold you about thinking to break the bonds before it becomes one, it hurts you. It hurts you because you thought of all the years, and all the time you spend with them, you thought they would at least understand your incapability, your flaws and defects. But they don’t. And if the people you trust your life with don’t understand you, you expect Namjoon would?

You shut the door behind you like you would your thoughts. His bathroom is very much like him, organized in its functions; shaving utility, facials, toiletries. And in the reflection, you caught yourself in a pensive expression and it dawned to you just how sad you looked. There’s a mark between your nipples that he left, and you remembered that you left a few on him too. He invaded your mind all too frequently nowadays. With his soap, you smell like him. And your hands glide over your skin where his palms was, the water trails down the valley of your breasts, in the back of your neck and between your buttcheeks. There’s a hickey on the inside of your thighs that tingles when you run your forefinger on them and you take the chance to mimic his hand movements in between your legs.

Drying up your hair, strapped in his robe, you searched for his bed sheets to change the soiled one he had on. Then you throw them in the washing machine while you ate the toast he made. Your phone had been laying face down on his kitchen counter, abandoned since he feels you up the moment you stepped into his space. He was some type of horny last night. It has been a while and you weren’t exactly responsive to his messages for the past few days and he grew needy. It doesn’t help that the new chambering lawyer enters exactly when he was piled with work and a difficult client going through a divorce. He wants to call and rant about it to you, but you’re always so occupied with the new member that he feels slightly neglected.

Standing in the bathroom to check his attire before the trials begin, Namjoon unbuttons the top two buttons of his dress shirt to have a peek of the hickey you made. For some reason, he likes to keep this as a trophy and it be quite a remembrance that if he could have you, he could have anything he wanted. You are the benchmark in his life. It’s a surge of motivation that could seem unconventional to most, but if you knew Namjoon, you know that he is everything but conventional.

He fairly admits that he was extremely affection deprived yesterday, that a simple glance from you would send his blood throttling straight to his groins. But he had to behave because your father was around to welcome Jeon, the new chambering lawyer that would be attached for four months, just like Namjoon was, before he was offered a position there. And for some reason, took ninety percent of the day. He was bitter. And extremely horny. He had to find excuses to have you come to his house and he knows it’s going to be hard because you’re not so gullible, but he hopes you would pretend because he doesn’t know if he’s gonna make it tonight without you. Nothing would have sufficed.

When you rang him to let you know you’re at his doorstep, handing the file he purposely left on your table, his heart leaped and courage set in. He knows there’s no going back to what was. He wanted you and wanted you so badly, his brain malfunctioned.

“Yea just place them on my desk down the hall….” he orders. “Do you not have hands?” you stared at him quizzically but walked in nonetheless, thinking that he might have a good reason why he said so, because he’s not usually so tactful. The sway of your hips as you walk in makes the cognac in his hand taste weaker than it usually is and he downed them whole and grimaced at the after taste. You’ll set those files in seconds, and he has to come up with another useless errands to make you stay longer than you probably should.

“I missed your coffee, you didn’t make me one because of that Jeon,” his voice grittles from behind the shell of your ear as you sort those files on his desk. The tail of your eyes glide to the view of the opened bottle of half-drunken cognac at the corner of the table and you mentally shook in disapproval. He just can’t stop drinking, can he?

“You usually get one from Starbucks downstairs, I didn’t think I had to make a jar,” you shrugged your shoulders, eyes focused on the files, shifting the orders to fit the schedule he had. He was leaning his shoulders on the door sill, hands in his pocket, dress shirt on, rolled up sleeves to his elbows, when you turned around, and the flicker in his eyes he passed you through his bangs was enough to bite your tongue. As if he had read your thoughts, he bits his before shifting his weight to another feet, bobbing his head down like he’s shy of his thoughts and barely in control.

“It’s been a week....” his voice pierced through the silence. “I noticed,” you leaned on the edge of his mahogany table, crossing your arms, giving away nothing. “Didn’t bother you?” he cleared his throat.

You responded by twisting your lips and unfold your hands to march towards him, pulling him by the belt loop and he towers above you with little to no hesitance, greeting you lips first. The kiss grew hungrier and hungrier until you’re backed up against the leather sofa of his office. Halfway through the lip-lock, you have your fingers fumbling on the buttons of his dress shirt, to unbutton them. His grip on your rib cage intensifies, pulling your dress up so he could run his hand on the back of your thighs. And then he parted, while you whined bitterly.

“Bed?” he breathlessly suggested. “I don’t care,” you matched his desperation.

He chuckles handsomely and leaned down to carry you over his shoulders before speeding down the hallway to his room. He throws you on the bed when he notices that you’ve unbuttoned him enough to help him off of those work attire. He unbuckles his belt achingly slow, with a hint of flirtatious smile on his lips, asserting his dominance in a way. As he watched your hand rubbing on yourself to keep the arousal going, he ran his tongue along his lips and told you to watch him as you touch yourself. You’re so far gone and he is barely getting your attention now, so he couldn’t even undress properly because of the look on your face was so inviting. He delved in a demanding manner, possessively taking over your hand and harshly whispered in your ear that he wanted his fingers there.

“You wore the dress I liked,” he nibbles on your earlobe while you responded in whimpers, shivering underneath him. “It’s the one you wore that night when we fucked in my car,” his voice was intoxicating, and he is making you drunk with his words. “I wore the dress I like,” you hissed through your teeth, feeling the familiar clenches below your waist, “You just happened to like it.” He chuckles darkly, smiling against your skin while his hands rode your dress up enough for him to bare your thighs and froze when he realised that you wore nothing underneath.

“You…” “What about it.”

Someone flushing in the bathroom takes him back where he is. Right. The trial. He’s donning a lawyer robe and he walked out looking rather dashing. Here it is. The very thing that makes him drink and smoke. He hates his job, but he loves you. His contract is ending soon.

With countless nights wondering where he stands, he hopes you know that you’re the reason why he even thinks his job is sexy. But how long can you hide this tryst from the public eye? With Namjoon’s constant need for touch, and the barriers your father has set?

And because of him, love will always taste like cognac and nicotine. Will this lungful drag of cigarettes, nicotine in his system, help him cope with what he’s about to lose? Will the liquor laced tongue make him forget the taste of your skin? What can he do? He caught feelings. He knows he wasn’t supposed to.

.

.

.

copyright © 2020 namjoonchronicles do not repost

[dandelionflower]

She Sits Alone

Based off of the haunted mansion AU by @miraculous-of-salt

——————

Marinette was on the bus to the Culpa Mansion and she was sitting alone.

Normally she would feel hurt, but this was nothing new. She sat alone in class, she sat alone on the plane to the US, she was sitting alone on the bus now. She just felt numb by now. So numb she was barely excited for the mansion.

The Culpa Mansion. Marinette could babble about the history of the Culpa Mansion for hours.

~~~

Once the home of the businessman Garfield Culpa, it was a refuge for injured soldiers. One such person was Abigail Laurens, a nurse who got injured when an explosion hit her base. She critiqued his process and he fell in love.

Years after, their daughter Harriet Culpa met Darrian Poll. They were in third grade. He pulled her hair and she chased him around the playground.

They lost contact after high school and reconnected after college. She was a pro wrestler and he was a librarian. They got married as Harriet and Darrian Culpa. (She insisted on keeping her last name.)

Their son Micheal Culpa married Wenda Delair. They were unable to have children and assumed their bloodline would die with them until they saw a young girl rummaging in their trash can. They instantly adopted Rosemary and began training her in watercolor.

Usually, Marinette would be cut off from talking now and she would recite the rest to herself.

Rosemary never married and opened her home to any starving or homeless artist who couldn’t get on their feet. She passed the Culpa mantle to one of the more present artists, Denise.

Denise never married, though she had plenty lovers. She continued the tradition of housing the starving and homeless but allowed them to be employed in the manor as cooks, maids, gardeners, and security. She eventually gave birth to a son, Felix Culpa.

Felix had nearly every trait of the Culpa family, despite not being blood related to any of them. He was caring and cynical, like Garfield and Abigail. He was physically able and a bookworm like Harriet and Darrian. He was a lover of the arts like Micheal, Wenda, and Rosemary, and he was suspicious of the existence of love like his mother.

He became suspicious no longer when he met Bridgette Chang, the designer child of an author and illustrator pair. She designed all of Denise’s favorite gowns and was commissioned for Felix’s first suit. She struck up a conversation about his favorite novel and they became fast friends.

Soon, they fell in love and they were inseparable until Felix left for college. Even then, they were the only thing on each other’s mind. Felix wrote daily letters to Bridgette and whenever she didn’t read them, she was weeping in the private room Felix gave her.

The minute he returned, he proposed. They were set to be married, if not for one tiny detail.

Delila Ross.

She was a fellow member of Felix’s college and was obsessed with him. She almost got her hooks into him when she used a love spell. Luckily, Felix knew some witchcraft of his own and was able to fight it off. She disappeared soon after.

However, the day of the wedding, she returned to kill Bridgette. Felix warned all of the staff against her and threatened them with extreme punishment. She came in and, assisted by the staff, stabbed Bridgette through the heart with her favorite flower pin.

Theorists say Felix went insane, but Marinette didn’t believe that part. He allegedly killed every member of the staff that allowed Delila to enter the mansion and soon he died himself. Legend has it that he roams the halls of the mansion, now a hotel, in search of the reincarnated soul of his loved one and when he found her, he would have the power to return from the dead and be with her until the end of his days.

~~~

Before she met Adrien, Marinette had fantasied about being the reincarnation of Bridgette, after all, Chang and Cheng were very similar. However, now she had met Adrien and was dating him.

Speaking of, Marinette checked her phone. Sure enough, there was a text from her boyfriend.

Sunshine 😍: Hey sorry bout not sitting w/ u 😰

Sunshine 😍: It would have seemed rude if I turned lila down

Princess 💞: It’s fine! I totally get it.

No, she didn’t get it! She was Adrien’s girlfriend and he still managed to make Lila a priority over her. And not just Lila either, Marinette knew Adrien thought she didn’t notice the stars in his eyes whenever Ladybug was mentioned. How touchy he would get with other models during a shoot.

Marinette growled and pulled out the vest she was embroidering. Half was black with small white snowflakes and the other half was pink with little flowers. It was based off of Felix and Bridgette’s favorite seasons; spring and winter. She had already made a strictly Felix themed outfit for the trip and a Bridgette themed outfit, she wanted to make one based off of the relationship the two had.

After finishing, she took a nap, dreams of swirling snowflakes and a blue eyed cat approaching her filling her mind. She woke up with Adrien sitting next to her, tapping her shoulder.

“Hey, Princess. We’re here.”

She bolted up and pressed her face to the window. “What? I missed it? But I heard such great things about the gardens…”

He laughed and pressed a kiss to her temple. “We’ll find some time to check them out, promise.”

“‘Kay.” She hummed and leaned forward for a proper kiss, before another popped up.

“Hey, Adrien?” Lila. “You mind helping us out back here? We’re stuck on a level of Super Penguino, and I, as an award winning player, need a partner. Would you want to help me out?” She bat her eyes innocently and Marinette felt the all too familiar sense of rage well up inside her.

No, don’t do that again, she reminded herself. You don’t need this, Adrien loves you and he doesn’t want you to get in trouble.

“Sure, Lila! I’m sure Marinette won’t mind.” He pressed another kiss to her temple and went back to Lila’s seat.

Marinette sighed and stared out the window as they finally approached the mansion.

———-

There was a bit of concern over rooming, there was an odd number of students and the teacher surely couldn’t room with anyone. They talked about three in a room, but Lila said she read a study that claimed that three in a room was harmful to sleeping patterns.

“Alya! Want to room with me?”

Alya gave Marinette a sympathetic smile. “Sorry, girl. I told Lila I’d room with her.”

“Oh, alright.” That meant she’d be rooming by herself then. “Have fun.” She sat on the bench again, alone.

She heard a giggle from across the room. “Yeah, I’m definitely the distant relative of Bridgette. Who knows? Maybe I’m his soulmate and Felix will come back from the dead for me.”

“He’s supposed to come back for the reincarnated soul.” Marinette muttered. “Not the relative.”

“You know that?” A red headed boy in a cap approached her. “No one knows that, Grace and I usually have to tell them a million times. Grace!” He shouted over his shoulder. “Grace! Come over here! This chick knows the Culpa story!”

“Wait, really?” A girl with a two long braids walked over from the reception desk. “No one knows the Culpa story.”

“My parents told me some when I was little, I did some research.”

“Well, the fact that you know it makes you a celebrity to us. I’m Grace, this is Finny. What’s your name, celebrity?”

She grinned. “I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng. I’m with the school trip from Paris.”

Finny gasped. “You mean you’re, the Marinette Dupain-Cheng? The same Marinette Dupain-Cheng who designed Jagged Stone’s favorite sunglasses, and his album cover?!?!”

“Fin’s a bit of a music nerd.” Grace snorted.

Fin, meanwhile, was patting his pockets down for a pen. “I don’t have a pen! Grace! Can you give me a pen?”

“No, ask her for he autograph later, dork. It’s the middle of the night, she probably wants to get back to her room.”

“Oh, right, sorry.” He rubbed the back of his head. “But I am totally asking for one later.”

Marinette winked. “That’s fine with me.”

“Where are you staying, anyway?”

“Umm, I actually don’t know. There was a room problem.”

“I can handle that.” Grace winked and Marinette noticed her eyes were a beautiful silver. “I’ve got some pull.” She sashayed over to the desk and started scribbling on a piece of paper. Apparently satisfied, she picked up a key and tossed it to Marinette. “Here. It’s the key to Bridgette’s room. A huge honor. Not something we take lightly around here.”

“Thank you! It’s not something I take lightly either.” Then, seeing her class was leaving, she lifted her bag and followed. “I’ll see you tomorrow, I hope!”

“We hope so too!” Finny yelled after her.

—————

Marinette hummed to herself as she began unpacking, planning her outfits for each day.

Her Felix themed set for museum day.

Her Bridgette themed set for the art museums.

Her Felix and Bridgette themed one for tour day.

And her ghost themed ones for all the other days.

Satisfied, she turned around and admired the room. It was exactly what she would have wanted. Pink everywhere, a beautiful white lace canopy over the bed, flowers all over the balcony and above the bed there was a portrait of Felix and Bridgette mid-proposal, Felix on one knee.

Marinette snapped a picture of it. Perfect for inspiration.

She texted Adrien a quick goodnight and went to sleep, soon to be struck with the same dreams of the blue eyed cat and the swirling snowflakes.

——————

Meanwhile, a sleek black fox and an orange bee held a meeting in the basement.

You think he knows yet? The bee asked.

I don’t know, Fin. He will once he makes his rounds.

She has to be her. Gracie, her life directly parallels with Bridgette’s. All the way down to the company she keeps.

Speaking of, we need to get everyone locked down and in their punishments for the night before Felix starts his rounds.

Before you do, a white and turquoise turtle crawled into view, we need to have a conversation about the other her.

What about her? Grace asked innocently.

What will we do about the ghosts? If they see her...

They’ll go insane.

Maybe they won’t, Finny suggested, they might just ignore her.

Unlikely. They’re more likely to torment her, which will end on the mansion being quarantined.

They won’t do anything without Felix’s permission, Allegra. Grace rolled her eyes. Which he won’t give until he has his bride.

But, it wouldn’t hurt if we let them scare her a little… Finny landed on Grace’s head. Would it?

Allegra and Grace smirked, well, as much as a fox and turtle could smirk.

Probably not… Allegra mused

I’ll spread the word when I lock up my section. See ya, Allegra.

As the bee and the fox climbed out of the basement, unnoticed in the empty halls, thunder cracked and a red headed boy, paired with a raven haired girl strolled the mansion, unaffected by the ghoulish shrieks of horror that followed them.

—

The rest

[floatingpetals]

Call Of The Mountains || Ch. 1

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes (Werewolf AU!)

Warnings: Nothin

Word Count: 1700+

Summary:  (Werewolf-AU!Stucky x f!reader) Life had begun to overwhelm her. Work was insane and her life was a mess. There was a tug in her soul that called her to take this trip, deep into the forest away, where there was the peace and stillness of nature. She didn’t know why, but she knew she needed to listen. It was meant to be a relaxing trip, but one misstep on some moss sent her tumbling into the rapids of the flooded river. She thought she was gone and the earth decided it was time to reclaim her. She didn’t expect was to be pulled from the river nor the creature that saved her. Her entire world is turned upside down and all it took was an accidental step to the left. (18+ Only Story)

A/N: Aight, so this is one I’ve been wanting to write for a while but made myself wait until I got a few stories done. Now that’s done, I can write this! It’s gonna get spicier in later chapters, and I’m exccciittteeeed! I hope you all enjoy this new story and the wonders it’s gonna contain! Let me know what you think! Enjoy! ❤

The gifs are not mine, credit to the owner.

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Series Masterlist

This wasn’t a really bright idea.  She knew it. However, that didn’t stop her from packing up her car with a tent, duffle bag filled with essentials and enough food for a week or so in a bear-proof cooler. She needed a break. Things had gotten crazy at work and life was stressing her out to where she was nearing her breaking point. If she didn’t take this vacation, she’d lose her ever-loving mind.

Fortunately, her boss understood and gave her the time off she wanted. The very next day, Y/N packed her car up, let her friends know she was going to be gone without cell reception for a week or so and drove off towards the mountains and forest. There was a campsite she and her family had been to a few times before; they were more outdoorsy than her, but something was calling to her. A little voice inside of her was craving to be surrounded by nature and away from society, tugging her towards the distant mountains. She needed to unplug and unwind. And so far, the little voice hadn’t steered her wrong.

The drive was long, but it helped her being to decompress and leave the stress behind her. The closer she drove, the thicker and taller the trees began to grow. Eventually, she reached the exit her mother wrote on a sticky note. Very quickly Y/N felt a peace wash over her as she took the quiet country road towards her destination.

She checked her location on her phone and noted her service was at one bar and kept dropping, not that she minded. She was about half an hour from the turn into the reserve and still had a few hours left of daylight. Good, she’d be able to pitch the tent and get a quick dinner started before the sun began to set. Maybe she could go for a quick dip in the river nearby. It had a lovely waterfall that flowed from a spring somewhere along the mountain. It was the perfect place for her to unwind.

Half an hour later, a smile spread across Y/N’s face when she spotted the sign and entrance. The ranger at the booth at the reserve's entrance was happy to help point her in the right direction, chatting with her for a moment and explaining how things worked. She was one of the few campers there, and while she might run into one or two if she went out hiking, the campsite she requested was far enough away she didn’t have to worry about seeing people all the time. Just what she wanted. He did, however, warn her that due to a large amount of rain they were getting, the rapids in the river were quite high and fast in the area and to make sure she kept an eye on where she stepped on the soft ground beside it.

Following the directions the ranger gave, Y/N drove further into the reserve and was unable to keep herself from admiring the green around her. Living in the city meant she got very little to none of this. True there were trees here and there, but nothing like this. Parking her car in the marked spot beside the site, Y/N stepped out and took in a deep breath of the clean crisp air. No loud sirens or shouting filled in air, or the smog and dingy stale air from the city. All she heard was the sound of the trees swaying in the breeze and the happy chirps of the many birds in the canopies. The weather was supposed to be sunny and relatively cool, with a slight chance of clouds later in the week. The perfect weather for camping in the perfect setting. Yep, she thought, this was what I needed.

The unpacking took her a little longer than she thought. The tent was new, one of the dome ones big enough to fit six people. Her father bought it on sale, something about it being almost 70% off and he just had to get it. The tent was comically large for Y/N, both in height and width, but she wasn’t going to complain. She didn’t want to go out and spend an inordinate about of money for one camping trip. There’s no telling when the next time she’d get a chance to do this again. Her father was also the one that gifted her with the cooler, which he reminded her to keep in the car locked up tight at night as well as a few lanterns, a swiss army knife, plenty of matches and lighters, a few jugs of water, a camping GPS tracker, and the fishing poles Y/N doubted she’d use. But considering she had no idea what she was going to do while here, Y/N didn’t argue. Her mom wasn’t so sure about this, going out alone into the woods, but Y/N just needed to do it. That tug kept growing inside of her and the only way to make it stop was to answer the call.

The rest of the afternoon went smoothly. After the slight struggle figuring the tent out, Y/N made a quick dinner with her packed food and started getting her things ready for sleep later that night. But first, Y/N wanted to go find the waterfall with the scenic pond that turned fed the river. Going off what the ranger said, Y/N assumed the waterfall would be much larger than the last time she’d been. She had plans to go back in the morning but didn’t want to wander around trying to find it.

So lacing up her hiking boots, she snagged a flashlight in case it got darker sooner than anticipated and followed the little marked trail that led her through the woods. The trail was familiar. She hadn’t been here in a few years, and normally her parents would camp further down the river, but once she found the main trail that followed closely alongside the riverbank, Y/N knew where she was. She paused at the sight of the much higher waters, the usually calm waters roaring with life. The ranger wasn’t joking about the current. It looked like it could drag a person under and downstream before anyone had a chance to blink.

Keeping a close to the trail along the forest, away from the soft edge, Y/N walked against the stream of the river and towards where the waterfall should be. Usually, when she was alone with her thoughts, Y/N would find herself full of anxiety, constantly thinking over everything and anything that could go wrong in her busy life. She hated how her mind fought with itself, constant warring with her about this and that. Trivial meaningless things she’d have little to no control over. Yet right now, with her breathing calm and her footsteps unusually light, there wasn’t a single anxious thought insight. The forest seemed to soothe her as if a spell was cast when she stepped foot on the land.

As she began to turn a corner, Y/N heard the waterfall first. It was roaring, echoing off the mountain beside it and the rocks and trees surrounding it. She felt a little flutter of excitement as she turned the corner and gasped. What was usually gentle and slight, the waterfall was twice its size. It caused a cooling mist to form at the bottom, shrouding the little clearing. Where the water pooled was twice in size as well. She spotted the top of a rock she would usually settle on beside it nearly submerged five feet from where the water line began. Fortunately, there were still plenty of places to sit and read around the area, the waterfall loud but not overly so. It was just enough to keep her thoughts at bay in case they crept back in sometime later in the week.

As she stood there staring in awe about how quickly nature can turn from mellow and serene into an impressively dangerous beast, a strange feeling took over. At first, she couldn’t quite place it. It sort of felt like someone was watching her. Frowning, Y/N turned from the waterfall, eyeing the surrounding forest across the water.

The sun had begun to set, leaving shadows to grow under the trees. With the added combination of the mist, Y/N couldn’t make out the other side very well. But the feeling was still there, growing heavier as whatever it was watched on. It wasn’t angry or even annoyed. No, it didn’t make the hairs on the back of her neck raise. Instead, it was almost curious, watching and waiting to see what she’d do next. It made Y/N want to see who it might be, so she chanced a step towards the water. Her eyes followed the waterline, looking and searching.

A shadow moved out of the corner of her eye. It made her jump, her attention snapping towards the spot. She couldn’t have been certain, but she swore she saw a large shape through the trees. Squinting, Y/N tried to make out what it was. But a bird cried loudly behind her, startlingly loud. It caused her to jerk and jump away from the edge of the water, surprised at how close she had gotten without realizing it. She glared at the smug-looking bird that sat on a low branch staring everywhere but at her and turned back to the shoreline on the opposite side. However, the feeling and whatever ever was there was gone.

Letting out a sigh, Y/N deiced that was enough excitement for the night. She shot once more look over her shoulder before heading back towards the way she came. Shaking the strange feeling off, Y/N decided not to dwell on it. It was the first day, there was no point in worrying about something she may or may not have seen. It was just a trick of the light, she tried to reason. Either that it was another hiker who happened across the same spot as her. Yeah, she thought, that was it.

The forest was a mysterious thing. It had its secrets, both good and bad. More often than not, the visitors that would come through never saw the magic that it was made of. There were a lucky few that would see the enchanting wonders it held, whether they stumbled across it or the magic was brought to them. Then, there were the unlucky ones who could see how unforgiving mother earth could be. The trails could lead her down many different paths. It was up to her to determine which direction she would end up taking and what the Earth had decided.

NSFW Tag: (Open- MUST BE 18+, NO EXCEPTIONS)

@cherrynat  / @221bshrlocked / @theapologies / @lusts-of-the-flesh / @rowencarter3 / @littlehellflame / @buckyb4rnacle / @diinofayce / @sincerelymlg / @punkrockhippiefromthefourties / @slytherinlifeislove / @moderapoppins / @nirinael-the-rising-demon / @girlwhoisfearless / @whatisanniedoin / @xxashy999xx / @cinema212 / @sergeantjbuckybarnes / @lokigodofsasss / @myforeveryoungblog /  @serpentbaby / @palaiasaurus64 / @electra-hxart / @libbymouse / @disaster-rose /

Call Of The Mountains Tag List : (CLOSED)

[caitybug]

(Un)Sexy Saturday!

I’m still really hella enjoying this trend done by @adamarks​ and @theflyingpeach​. Even if I don’t actually do any actual sexy scenes. (Is this just a series of posts where I cockblock them? oops.)

(I also uploaded what I’ve done so far on ao3, mainly to keep track of it for me. But feel free to check it out if you would ALSO like to follow my really stupid stories.)

Da link

Anyway, read below for a story involving probably the closest thing to actual smut I’ll ever write, but interrupted by allergies. 

(Sorry, I know it’s long. Also I wrote this last night after I finished my grad paper and it ended up kind of fluffy? oops.)

I’m tagging @theflyingpeach @adamarks (a double tag? In one post? No regrets.) @sharing-a-room-with-an-open-fire @sourcherrymagiks @angelsfalling16 @motherscarf @carryonsimoncarryonbaz @foolofabookwyrm @fight-surrender @ninemagicks @omgcmere and anyone else who wants to! 

Simon and I are in bed after being away from each other for two weeks. 

It was painful. 

He kisses me so hard it tingles. I feel a scratch at my throat even, I’m so desperate for it. 

He moves down to my throat, and the tingling feeling lingers on my lips, in my mouth where his tongue was. 

It’s been so long my body doesn’t know what to do. 

My toes curl as he continues to move down my body, and I can’t believe I let myself go so long without it. Without him. 

I moan as he moves to my hip. He lets out a huff of laughter, but I couldn’t care less what escapes me tonight. 

He pulls down my pants and takes me into his mouth and it feels so good for all about one second. 

My body is tingling everywhere he kissed, licked, bit. 

But now... well shit this isn’t the same. 

It burns. 

I slip my hand into his hair, and he moans. He doesn’t realize what’s happening. 

I yank him off, at risk of further injury, and sit up. 

“What the fuck?” He asks as I sit up and turn on a lamp. 

“It burns,” I state. I feel like a fucking moron. I finally am able to get laid, after two weeks of wanting, and my dick acts like this? 

“It burns?” He repeats, moving closer to me. 

“Yes,” I respond. It looks red and there are tiny bumps. I start looking up my body, as it gets progressively itchier, and see little red bumps going up my chest. 

“Uh, Baz?’ Simon says wearily. “Are you alright? You’ve got-“ instead of finishing his sentence he touches my face, right where I feel a burning itch. 

Am I allergic to Simon? Did two weeks away mean my body adjusted back to life without him? 

I get up and walk to the restroom and see the rash currently going from my lips to my... 

“Hold on,” I whisper to myself, trying hard not to scratch anything, no matter how badly I want to. 

I start the water for a shower and shout for Simon. 

“Need company?” He asks as he walks in. 

“Do you think now is the time, Snow?” He shrugs so I continue. “What did you eat today” 

“Huh?” 

“Please don’t make me repeat myself.” I get under the warmth of the shower, letting some of the water in my mouth and spitting it out, trying to get whatever it is off of me. 

“Uh, I had a pizza day.” 

“A pizza day?” I ask, sticking my head out of the shower curtain. 

My skin is already feeling relieved. 

“Shepard suggested it.” 

I roll my eyes. Of course. I grab the soap. The container feels lighter. Simon must have dropped it while I was out. 

“We had breakfast pizza. It had scrambled eggs and bacon and cheese too. Then we had regular pizza, of course. Did you know you could get garlic cloves on your pizza? It was so good. Then we were supposed to have dessert pizza, but I tripped and it fell into a rain puddle.”

“Are you fucking serious?” I can’t believe he’d be so stupid. 

“I know. I told Shepard you could spell the pizza normal but-“

“No, Simon.” I’m scrubbing my body with soap. “You ate garlic cloves”

“Yeah on my pizza” he sounds confused. “It was really good.”

“And you can’t see what would go wrong with that?” 

“I mean I know it can make you gassy but-“

“Dear Christ. Snow, you ate garlic cloves, then proceeded to try to give head to your vampire boyfriend.” Silence. 

“Do you not understand?”

“I thought the garlic thing was a myth? I’ve definitely made food with garlic in it before. Remember that pasta dish I made before you left?”

I move the shower curtain out of the way to glare at him. 

“I threw up after that!” I shout. 

“Oh,” he mutters. “Shit I’m so sorry Baz. Are you okay?”

I sigh and close the curtain again, scrubbing my body down more to get it off. 

“It’s fine, Simon. Just brush your teeth.” 

I hear the sink run and the familiar sound of him brushing his teeth as I finish my shower. 

Luckily I got in here quickly. The rash could have been a lot worse. 

I turn off the water and grab a towel right when I hear a drawer close. 

“I’m sorry,” Simon mumbles, holding a tube of something out to me. “Here’s an anti-itch cream.”

“You already have that?” I reach out and grab it, opening the cap and putting a bit in my hand. 

“Yeah, well I needed it.”

I frown as I put some of the cream on my chest. He leans against the counter looking down at the floor 

“Why did you need it?”

He mutters something. 

“Look, if we are going to live together I should probably know what you’re allergic to.” I close the cap and put it on the counter. Simon moves to put it back in his drawer. 

I think I saw other medicine in there as well. When did Simon start keeping a medicine drawer? 

“I used your soap one night.” He shrugs. “I missed you and thought it’d be nice but, well.” He coughs. 

I stare at him for a moment before I register exactly what he is saying. I can barely contain my smile. 

He’s so stupid. But my heart is swelling. 

He missed me. 

He missed me so much he used some of my soap just to smell me. 

“Did you brush your teeth for two minutes?” I ask. He looks up at me and frowns. 

“Yes. The toothbrush stays on for two minutes, remember?” 

I smile. I bought him that toothbrush after he complained about a root canal. 

I lean forward and kiss him softly, testing the waters. 

“I missed you too,” I whisper. 

I love this stupid idiot.

_______

I end up changing soaps after that.

[fangirlxwritesx67]

May Be Home, Chapter 10 Word count this chapter: 1700 Catch up here: Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4.Chapter 5. Chapter 6. Chapter 7. Chapter 8. Chapter 9.  Characters: au rockstar!Dean Winchester x OFC Sasha. Song: Sounds of Someday, Radio Company Music

Tags: 18+, sex, smut, lots and lots of m/f sex in different ways (fingering, oral, penetrative) in different places (bed, table, car, shower), no condoms ever, enthusiastic consent, Daddy kink, language, lots of alcohol, sexy eating, etc

Sasha saw Dean Winchester everywhere she looked. 

She was reminded of him when she saw coffee, or whiskey, or a certain shade of dark red. She thought of him when she slipped on the bracelets he had purchased for her during their first weekend. 

Every time she saw a picture of him, she was reminded of the way he smiled at her, the way he laughed, the way he looked in bed. 

She had hoped to hear from him by now. She thought their last weekend together had been something special. At least she expected Rowena to summon her for another weekend with him. But that number never called her phone.

She told herself that Dean was busy, that it was the holidays, and he would ask for her again. But all she got was silence.

November passed, and December.

Sasha stopped playing Dean's albums because it hurt too much to hear his voice. She stopped looking at his Instagram because it hurt too much to see his face.

She couldn't entirely escape reminders of him, though. Sometimes she heard his music on the radio. Sometimes she saw bits of news or press about him.

Her coworkers at the restaurant all knew about her obsession with Dean, although they knew nothing about her weekends with him or about her broken heart.

Sometimes in the kitchen, if he came on the radio, they would tease her, "Sasha. It's your favorite. It's your boyfriend." She forced herself to listen, acting like she didn't care and pretending every word didn't wasn't a sharp jab to her heart.

Only once did she let a little bit of the truth slip. It was after work, and she was doing shots with Lee, the bartender.

"What's going on with you, Sash?" He teased her gently. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you had a broken heart, but you haven't even hooked up with any body since-" He stopped talking when he saw her eyes were full of tears.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Lee asked.

Sasha shook her head. "I can't," was all she said. Even drunk, she knew that she would sound ridiculous, telling some wild story about hooking up with a star she had a crush on.

Saying that she and Dean had actually gone on a date, that she had spent the night with him, that she thought they actually shared something special- that would sound even more unbelievable.

In that moment, Sasha hated Dean and hated herself. How had she thought it had meant anything? The greatest days of her life were probably a blur to him, a few hours with another girl whose name he had already forgotten.

Sasha dashed the tears off her cheeks and locked up her heart. If the things she had shared with Dean meant nothing to him, they would mean nothing to her. She kept telling herself that, over and over, hoping she would start to believe it.

The secret truth burned like a hot coal in her chest: she was in love with Dean. And she would never get to be with him again.

Sasha didn't answer her phone when she didn't recognize the number, and rarely checked her voicemail. So a few days passed between getting the call and getting the message. She was halfway listening in her car on her way to work. 

Prescriptions, check. Pay phone bill, check. Then the sound of a familiar voice suddenly filled her ears.

"Sweetheart, it's me." Dean sounded ragged. "Just… call me. Text me. I don't care. Let me hear from you, please.”

Blinding tears hit Sasha so hard she had to pull over, her chest heaving with sobs. 

Dean fucking Winchester, after everything he had put her through, he just wanted to call her like that? In the safety of her car, she pounded her fists against the steering wheel. She screamed where no one could hear her. She waited until her heart slowed a little.

She wanted, oh how she wanted, this to really be him. But so many weeks had gone by and she had never heard from him. Had he really called her? Was he missing her too? How could she be sure?

Her voice was too shaky to be trusted so she picked up the phone and texted How do I know it's you?

She waited, breathless, the phone trembling in her hand.

Oh, I don't know, baby girl Pancakes, coffee in bed Don't tease Daddy

His text replies sent a bolt of white hot longing straight from Sasha's heart to her core. Oh, how she wanted this to be true.

But she had to be sure that this was him, that he was serious, and this was not just some kind of cruel joke.

Everyone knows you like pancakes. Tell me more.

The texts came one after another;

Olive garden. My queen of hearts. Slow dancing in that blues bar.

It was Dean, it had to be.

Tell me something only you would know about me.

It took a moment but he wrote back.

You thought I wouldn't notice that you were crying when we had sex in the shower.

Sasha knew, then, that it was really Dean - her Dean. She took another moment to let tears roll down her cheeks. Then she drew in a deep breath. 

Her heart was fluttering with tremulous hope. But she was scared, so scared. What had happened for all these months? What did Dean want, and why had it taken him so long to reach her?

Nice to finally hear from you.

She kept her reply short and cool, her thumbs spelling out something entirely different from what she was feeling.

But I have to go to work.  I'll talk to you later.

Sasha hoped that her tables got what they wanted that night, because she wasn't sure what she was doing. She was so focused on the phone in her pocket, waiting for it to buzz, waiting for Dean to text her again.

And text her he did, so often that she was ducking behind the salad station and the drink machine and the walk in cooler just to peek at her phone.

Baby, please keep talking to me. You wouldn't believe what I've had to deal with. Sam and Rowena, they really fucked me over. But I missed you. Sasha, are you there?

After hearing nothing from Dean for weeks, Sasha couldn't handle this sudden communication overload. Between serving tables, she found a minute to respond.

I'll keep talking when I'm ready. I'm working right now. Give me some time.

Dean was silent the rest of Sasha's shift, and if he responded later, she didn't know, because she started drinking with Lee, and the kitchen crew.

Lee asked her, "You've been acting weird all night. Looking at your phone and smiling. Is this about- the heartbreaker?"

Sasha couldn't help it; she blushed. 

"Who is this mystery man, who can break your heart and still put a smile on your face?" Lee joked. "Your favorite guy in the world, Dean Winchester?"

"Fuck Dean Winchester," Sasha answered. She choked back another shot. Then she rested her forehead against the wooden bar and sobbed.

Sasha woke up, not for the first time, in Lee's apartment. In the past he had given her the bed but now that he had a boyfriend, it made more sense for her to sleep on the couch. 

She pulled on her shoes and slipped out, walking the few blocks back to her apartment. There, she plugged in her phone and fell into bed to sleep some more.

When she woke up later for her shift, Sasha checked her phone and saw another flood of messages.

Sasha, please I've missed you I didn't know But I missed you Fuck, baby girl, I missed you.

It was a lot, and Sasha wasn't sure how to answer. But she could admit one thing:

I've missed you too.

Something Dean said made her curious.

What didn't you know?

I didn't know you were still interested. Rowena and Sam told me you were done. That you refused to come and see me again.

Sasha was shocked. Did Dean really think that she wasn't interested? As if everything they shared had meant nothing to her? 

How could you even think that was true?!

He wrote back:

I wanted to get in touch with you right away. I didn't have your number. They wouldn't give it to me.

She didn't believe him. The whole story seemed farfetched. Unsure what to think, what to say, she stopped answering. 

Sasha tossed her phone on the bed in frustration. When it bounced onto the floor, she didn't pick it up. Instead, she rolled over and cried herself to sleep. 

The first thing Sasha did the next morning was check her phone for anything from Dean. Nothing. She would've convinced herself she had dreamed it all except for the messages she already had. But Dean hadn't texted her back.

Sasha was exhausted before she ever started work. She went through the motions of waiting tables and hoped she was doing okay. She was distracted by checking her phone over and over for another word from Dean.

Nothing came, and Sasha grew increasingly irritated. Her shift was all but over when the hostess let Sasha know she had one more table, one who had asked for her specifically. 

She walked out, unsuspecting, only to be confronted with the sight of Dean Winchester, sitting in a booth, waiting for her.

Chapter 11

SPN First Last and Always: @dawnie1988 @deanwanddamons @divadinag @flamencodiva @fookinghelljensensthighs @idreamofplaid @maddiepants@magssteenkamp @onethirstyunicorn   @the-chocolate-moose  @there-must-be-a-lock @tloveswriting

Dean Curious: @adoptdontshoppets @awesomesusiebstuff @deangirl7695 @deans-baby-momma  @mrsjenniferwinchester @stoneyggirl@supersassyprobablysad @wayward-gypsy