#and i really think she clung to this and it bloomed out into a whole new level of delulu

[lenfaer]

i do wanna make a little edit of all the little parallels lanfear forces into her dynamic with rand because it all feels really telling about what she actually *wants* out of this relationship

[pickledpascal]

Staring Into the Blue

Pairing: Beau Arlen and Surrogate Daughter OC (Andi)

Warnings: self-worth issues, emotional hurt/comfort, andi has daddy issues and is hating life a little

A/N: i made this when i was half delirious/asleep and started thinking of my own relationship with my parents sooooo yeah... have fun with this one lol

Word Count: 2.2k

Jensen Ackles Masterlist

Beau was new to this whole thing. As was Andi.

Andi was a nineteen-year-old girl who, for all intents and purposes, was Beau’s surrogate daughter. Emily still had a place in his heart, and always would, but Andi was… a special case. 

They had met when she was eighteen, freshly in college, and had one too many drinks one night which landed her in detainment, and ultimately had a talk with the sheriff. Being intoxicated, Beau’s initial rant about her needing to take better care of herself and how underage drinking was bad was undermined by Andi spilling her guts to him. Metaphorically speaking.

Andi didn't have parents. At least, not ones who cared about her all that much. As soon as she turned eighteen, they promptly threw her out of the house. Sure they had helped her get into college but they didn't care what happened after. Glad to get her out. 

So Beau took her in. Gave her a home. Loved her.

It was all so much for Andi. And made her think about her real parents. How happy they were without her. How happy they were not acknowledging they kicked their child out of their house to fend for herself just to be picked up and loved by a stranger. Beau didn't know her parents—he wasn't her honorary uncle or even a real uncle. He was the sheriff of Helena and a pretty good one at that. 

It took a while but Beau convinced Andi to live with him instead of the housing on campus. A month or so into Andi’s hopefully permanent stay at Beau’s house—he upgraded from the airstream but it was parked in his yard—it was nearly midnight when he woke up to soft music filtering into his room. Beau ran a hand through his hair and screwed his eyes shut for a moment before he sat up. That had to be Andi. And he felt compelled to check in on her.

Beau left his room and made his way to Andi’s, the music getting louder with each step he took. Which made him more and more concerned. 

I waited ages to see you there

I search the party of better bodies

Just to learn that you never cared

You're on your own, kid

You always have been

Just outside her door, Beau heard the faint noise of sniffling. Andi had been crying. His heart sunk in his chest. He knocked on the door. No answer. Beau pursed his lips as he turned the door handle. The sight behind it made his heart ache. 

Under the low light of Andi’s blue fairy lights was her, sobbing on the floor as she hugged her knees to her chest. Her glasses were abandoned on her bed with teardrop marks on the lenses. 

I see the great escape

So long, Daisy May

I picked the petals, he loves me not

Something different bloomed

Writing in my room

I play my songs in the parking lot

I'll run away

Beau rushed to be by her side, cradling her head as it lay on his chest. He set his chin on top of her head, rubbing her shoulder to try and soothe her. It seemed the tears rushed faster as he did. “I gotcha, I gotcha. It's okay.” He shushed softly. 

Andi clung onto Beau like a lifeline, crying into his chest and getting tears on his shirt. He didn't care. He wanted Andi to be okay. And if that meant he had to hold onto her like this then he didn't care. 

He petted her hair and pressed a kiss against her forehead. “It's alright. I'm here.” Beau resisted the urge to cry too. He had never seen Andi like this before, even when they met. “Please tell me what's wrong.” Beau insisted softly, pulling Andi away from him for a moment. Her skin felt cold. He didn't like this. 

Andi sniffled, rubbing her eyes. “I…” She wanted to. She really did, but it was hard. 

“You know me, sweetheart, I'm not gonna judge. Okay?” Beau cupped Andi’s cheek. He could sense she was hesitant. Their relationship was fresh but Andi trusted him enough with other stuff. Enough to live with him. 

A new wave of tears rolled down Andi’s cheeks. “I know.” Her voice was small. Her eyes screwed shut as a sad smile crossed her face. “God, I wish my real parents were like you.” She admitted with a harbored breath. “My dad especially. I-I don't understand what I did wrong. What I did to deserve what they did to me. Was I not enough? Was it because I was a girl? He and my brothers were fine. He-He never–” A choked sob escaped her. 

Beau frowned, pulling her back into his chest. He closed his eyes as he drew in a deep breath. 

“He never told me loved me.” Andi cried into his chest, voice muffled. “Never told me he was proud of me. I-I don't understand. He's my dad, i-isn’t he supposed to love me? That's his job.” 

Beau felt a few tears stinging his eyes as well. He couldn't imagine being that type of person. That type of father. He loved Emily so much it hurt sometimes. Andi too. To be the type of father to, quite frankly, never pay attention to his child was an alien concept to him. One that was very much real. And one that saddened Beau. 

He squeezed Andi tighter and pulled her into his lap. She was heavier than what he was used to but it didn't matter. What mattered was comforting her as much as possible. He didn't know if he could ever change her mind about her self-worth, at least, not in the moment. But this kind of touch would help. He hoped it would. 

After a while, Andi’s tears died down and Beau brushed away the hairs from her face. He even wiped some tears away. “I know I can't… just replace your dad, as unfortunate as that sounds. You had eighteen years with him. That won't just disappear. But I can try to help ease some of that pain, show you what a real parent should be like.” Beau whispered softly. “I love you as I would my own daughter. I'll be so proud of you at your concert next week, I'll clap and cheer so loud they might have to kick me out. I love you.”

Andi sniffled. The words meant so much to her and she knew Beau was telling the truth. He had a record to back it up. He never missed one of her recitals, a soccer game she had, or an event she really wanted to go to. 

Before she ever moved in, Beau was Andi’s plus one to a lot of things. A chaperone in some sense but Beau just loved seeing her smile. They went to a few markets around the city with her college friends, saw quite a few movies in his airstream, and—at the end of the day—he would always give her a warm hug and a kiss on the forehead. 

“I love you too.” Andi breathed. It was the first time she'd said it back.

Beau had a habit of slipping it behind a sentence or saying it when they said goodbye. Andi didn't mind. She liked hearing it. But she had never said it back or even said it first. Beau was okay with that. He wanted to earn it. 

And he did. 

It was bittersweet, though. He was glad but his heart still ached. All he wanted was to take all that hurt from Andi and throw it in a locked box somewhere. Maybe throw that into the depths of the ocean. But he couldn’t. And it pained him that he couldn't. Andi didn't deserve those sorry excuses of parents. And maybe she didn't deserve Beau either but he was going to try. 

Beau hugged her close, closing his eyes as he rocked her side to side. Andi wrapped her arms around Beau’s torso. Her breathing calmed as she nuzzled her head in the crook of his neck. 

It was silent for a while, her music had died down a while ago into a soft instrumental. “Sweetheart?” Beau asked softly. He had a small, but hopefully effective, idea 

“Hm?” Andi hummed. She felt a little better hence the crying stopped but there was still an emptiness in her chest.

“Do you want to sleep in my room tonight?” Beau knew it was a tactic mostly used for little kids. Where if he could squeeze her tight enough that would make everything better. But Andi was legally an adult so he wasn't completely sure.

Andi bit the inside of her lip and drew in a small breath. Her parents didn't do this when she was sad. Hell, her parents barely even noticed when she was sad. She simply nodded.

Beau lifted the covers over Andi before he got in bed next to her. She held onto Beau. He quickly did the same. 

Andi was an adult. But not really. She was a child who had never felt like she had any real comfort in her life until Beau came along. Andi wasn't even sure she could pinpoint a time she was genuinely happy in a while. Physical comfort didn't fix everything but it sure helped a lot. She didn't get that much as a child but she did now.

Beau was so affectionate that it almost made Andi cry. Small things like a touch on her shoulder as he left or a kiss on her forehead. Hell, a simple thumbs-up while she was on stage made Andi feel so warm. And so loved.

That was part of the reason this whole mess started in the first place. Andi loved Beau and wouldn't trade him for the world but a part of her wondered why her father couldn't be like him so she didn't need to have Beau in the first place. Why couldn't he be the type of father that supported his child? Who made it known that he was proud of her every day even if it could be a little embarrassing? Who hugged her every single time they met after they were apart? 

Beau rubbed Andi’s back, playing with her hair. He found that it calmed her after a while. “I can stay home tomorrow. We can watch Book of Life, make fresh brownies, and have ‘em with ice cream.” He suggested softly. 

Book of Life was her favorite movie. And warm brownies with vanilla ice cream was one of her comfort foods. She didn't eat it often. 

“Okay,” Andi mumbled, a soft smile making its way onto her lips. “I would be a sorry excuse for an older sister.” 

Beau’s eyebrows furrowed. “What makes you say that?” 

Emily and Andi knew of each other but they hadn't quite met yet since Emily still lived with Carla in Texas and she hadn't made her way up to Montana to see her father in a while. He knew adoption was off the table but he was as close to a father as Andi could have, ultimately making her family. And making her and Emily sisters. 

Andi shook her head. “Forget I said that.” Beau pursed his lips, glancing down at her. She let out a breath through her nose. “I just… I'm the youngest in my family anyway and—I dunno—I don't feel right. I guess. I'm not a role model. I'm not–”

“I think you are.” Beau cut in. He hated when Andi talked bad about herself which unfortunately happened a lot. “You have your hands in a lot of different clubs, you excel in your classes, and you fight for what's right.” Beau hugged Andi close. “We can work on it feeling right but… You're a far better role model than me.”

Andi scoffed. Beau may not have been open about everything that happened in his life but, for a middle-aged man, it was far better than any other man Andi had ever encountered before. He was affectionate with just about everyone in his life, co-workers, friends, Andi’s friends, Carla, and Emily. Maybe Beau wasn't perfect but he was already doing better than Andi’s father. 

Beau thought Andi drifted off to sleep until she said, “I'm glad you're in my life.” He could tell she was trying to starve off sleep by the sound of her voice. 

“Me too.” Beau admitted softly, an absentminded smile on his face. 

Beau thought Emily was the limit to his love. But then Andi came along and suddenly there was more love to give. There was no rationing of his heart, it only grew. And he couldn't fathom it for a while. Andi wasn't his child, not biologically, but he loved her as if she was. 

With Emily away, it was hard for Beau to function properly. That was his daughter and she was hours and hours away. Of course, it still was but it was a little easier with Andi. He thought the world of her and couldn't comprehend how she didn't think the same. 

If Beau ever did meet Andi's parents, he couldn't imagine it'd go well. He'd likely end up in a detainment cell while Andi's father ended up in the ICU.

[shytastemakerthing]

Zohakuten and baby sister reader. Like reader like a toddler and this is modern au. Headcanons of Zohakuten being a big brother

Hello and thank you so much for your request! Honestly, I love the idea of baby sister with these boys because you just know she will just be spoiled like no tomorrow! Requests are open!

Enjoy!

Tw: None

Prompt: Modern AU Zohakuten with toddler sister

Right off the bat, you are instantly his favorite sibling. He tolerates his older brothers for the most part and holds a sense of respect for Sekido as he takes it upon himself to lead the remaining siblings who were within the home, but you? Oh the moment that he saw you, he just knew that he would never let anything happen to you.

Zohakuten remembers the day you were born as if it was yesterday. At the time, it had been kept as a secret whether you were a boy or a girl. He would say that he didn't really care, but the moment that it hit him that he has a baby sister? He knew just how the others felt when it came to keeping him safe as the youngest of the family. Now that you are the youngest, he feels the same protectiveness.

He has taken to calling you 'Cherry', as around the time you were born, was the same time when the beautiful Cherry Blossoms were beginning to bloom all around.

Everyday as you grew older, he was there. Zoha was there the moment you started crawling, the moment you took your first steps, and when you said your first word, 'oha'. Yeah, everyone in the family knew you were trying to say Zohakuten's name. It would seem you were just as stuck on him as he was on you. (Yes, he cried when he heard this, don't let the 'dust in his eyes' fool you for a second)

Once you reached your toddler years, you were very easily 'Little Miss Independent'. You were capable of things that others your age were just learning how to do. While Zohakuten didn't mind this independent stage, it also reminded him that you were growing up and he had to let that sink in for a good long moment.

Out of all of your brothers, he would be your favorite. Aside from him being one of the younger siblings, just like you, as the baby, he was the one you saw around the most. The quads were usually busy with college work so they weren't around a whole ton, but you had Zohakuten.

He remembers the first day he dropped you off at preschool, how your little hands clung to his arm, a bit nervous to leave him behind, but with that smile that was only reserved for you, you knew you would be okay.

And when he picked you up? Everyone wanted him as their big brother now. (I am thinking he is about high school age at this point, about 16 or so), but he comes along with that red wagon you love with little wood dragons that he painted on the side, and you were instantly running towards him, going on and on about your day (I swear, little kids will tell you everything). He would pick you up and place you inside the wagon with your backpack and his own, before beginning the journey home.

But his absolute favorite moment is when you're getting ready for bed. You had taken a liking to some of his old childhood clothing, so you're dressed in an old pair of pajamas when he was about your age as you brush your teeth, him making sure that they are all clean and shiny, before he walks you to bed. Technically, you stand on his feet and he does this dinosaur stomp down the hallway that never fails to make you laugh. Before, he would never see himself doing such a thing, but now? He would do anything to see the smile on his baby sister's face.

Once you've made it to your room, he will tuck you in your bed, bundled up in the blankets as he reads you your favorite bedtime story, one about very strong swordsmen fighting against evil. A little above your reading level, but you just love how he enacts the story.

By the time he has finished, he sees your little sleeping face, warm and cozy, and in that moment, he just smiles again, making sure you're covered, that your nightlight is on, before a small kiss is placed to your forehead, and he leaves the room.

The quads know his behavior towards you, and while Karaku and Urogi certainly tease him about it, they're just happy to see him interacting with you and just how much you look up to him.

Overall, he would be such a good big brother to you and he would make sure that nothing bad would ever happen to you.

[awonderfulwolfyworld]

purple.

ship: riven x reader

summary: all Riven wants is to be someone’s first choice, specifically yours. When you see him get beaten by Sky yet again, you decide to cheer him up.

word count: 1052

warnings: swearing

Riven had only ever wanted to be someone’s first choice.

The sun was harsh, beating down its heat onto unsuspecting specialists. His uniform clung to him uncomfortable, sticking to sweat at every surface. He readjusted his grip on the wooden baton for what felt like the millionth time. He could feel the heat affecting him, the sweat dripping down his forehead, his grip on his weapon becoming looser with every second. Sky was unaffected, of course he was.

It was hard to resent the boy who was like his brother, but Riven felt that resentment crawl up his throat anyway. It was an ugly feeling and more emotions came with it. The guilt and shame for wishing downfall on his best friend, but all Riven wanted was for someone to choose him.

He was never Skys first choice for anything, and he never had been.

First it was Stella, whom Sky devoted every ounce of attention and affection to. Then it was Bloom and while Riven enjoyed having her around, she would always be Skys first choice.

He wasn’t even the last choice for his parents, hell they didn’t even think of him as an option. God knows his teachers would prefer he didn’t exist. Everyone else in his life knew him and Sky as a package deal. It was no secret which boy the preferred.

The baton slipped between his fingers once more as Sky beat him to the floor. That resentment filled his chest even stronger than before, spreading through his body like wildfire the second he saw her watching. Saw her eyes linger on Sky’s tall frame as he loomed over Riven. Watched her trail her gaze over his features.

Riven was out of the ring in a second. 

He purposefully ignored her. Ignored the way she made his heart leap with every little gesture. Riven was no stranger to emotions, in fact he felt everything so strongly, but never like this. Never with someone like you. It didn’t matter how much he felt for you, because Riven had never been anyones first choice and he sure as hell knew he could never be yours. You were good at school, one of the smartest girls he had ever met, and smart girls didn’t waste their time with drop kicks. 

Riven could feel Sky before he heard him. He hovered behind him hesitantly, unsure whether to finish approaching or back off. It was no secret how he felt, he could hide it from everyone else as much as he wanted, but Sky always saw right through him. 

“I don’t understand you. You act like you’re some amazing guy that can get whoever he wants, but then you shy away from what you really want?”

Riven knows he could try. He could get up and march over to where you sit perched beneath an oak tree to confess how he feels. He could take you on a picnic and hold your hand and tell you how beautiful you are. Then, when he tries and tries and you reject him anyway, he can be the laughing stock of the whole school.

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

He’s on the defensive before he can even blink. The resentment doesn’t ease, not in the slightest, not when he can see you sitting under that stupid tree looking like the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. Not when he can see you watching them, watching Sky. 

They sit there in silence for a while. Sky and Riven. One boy who had the world at his feet and one who could never imagine what that would be like. Eventually Bloom arrives and Sky takes his leave, patting Riven on the leg as he goes. The sun dips below the horizon and colour paint the sky in streaks of colour. You’re bathed in the glow of the waning sun and a new feeling settles in Riven’s chest, making its home where all gentle emotions do. His heart thrums as you stand to your feet, and for a second he thinks you’re going to follow Skys direction back to the school. 

His heart stutters when your path leads directly to him. 

Riven feels his heart stop as you come to a rest before him.

He’s always been observant but with you it’s something different entirely, and he feels like something is off immediately. Interactions between the two of you had been minimal. You showed him kindness when he least deserved it through small notions, and in return he cheered you up when you seemed down. To an outside it may just seem like gentle words and flirtatious remarks, but to Riven it meant a whole lot more.

Today, you’re different. Theres a bead sweat gliding down your temple and he’s not too sure if it’s from the warmth of the nervous energy that your exuding. You’re hands which are normally so gentle in their actions are clutching your bag with a strength he didn’t even know you had.

“Hey, Riv—uh Riven, sorry”

A smile works it’s way onto his face at the nickname and he purposefully ignores the way you apologise immediately for the act of endearment. 

“What are you up to sunshine?”

You can feel your heart pounding in your chest, it’s a marvel he can’t hear it. You rummage in your bag for the flower you picked for him and tuck it behind his ear, desperately trying not to think about how pathetic you probably look.

“I uh, thought you could use the pick me up”

The flower is slightly wilted and wrinkled from your tight grip, but you think it looks pretty on him none the less. You know he’ll throw it to the ground the second you walk away. Know he’ll mutter something about how foolish and weird you are. Know he would never risk his reputation by wearing a purple flower in his hair, but you hold onto that hope all the same. 

He watches you retreat on yourself and all too soon you’re heading up the hill towards the castle. His finger pluck the flower from his hair and a lovestruck grin settles on his face. He places the flower back in his hair right where you had placed it.

Purple was his favourite colour after all. 

[weelittleweasley]

sheer brilliance (f.w.)

prompt: being a teacher’s assistant at a local college, you are assigned to a philosophy professor who is notorious for being young, cocky, and undeniably handsome. does his arrogance get in the way of you getting or job done? or is it his looks?

pairing: professor! fred x teacher’s assistant! reader

warnings: typically frowned upon relationships (oopsie i love forbidden romances that are legal and consentual mwah), language, food, drinking, alcohol

word count: 15k (I am so sorry I really couldn’t help myself)

author’s note: there won’t be a direct part two of this, but you can bet ur sweet booty that i will be writing more prof!fred in this universe because he’s just so HNNNGG

taglist: @rosaliepostsstuff​ @harrysweasleys​ @gcdricreads​ @lumos-barnes​ @whizboingies​ @lumosandnoxwriting​ @pxroxide-prinxcesss​ @c-t-h​ @lol-idk-oops​ @another-lonely-heart​ @kaseyrose96-blog​ @hufflepuff5972 @amourtentiaa​ @parseltongueswriting​ @shilohpug​ @peachypotter​ @spacexcowgirl​ @PaintballKid711 @vogueweasley​ @freddie-weaselbee​ @freds-slut​ @missmulti​ @gryffindcrghost​ @wand3ringr0s3​ @valwritesx​ @sweeterthansammy​ @loonylovegood13​ @lostaurorax​

“It’s so nice to see another young face here,” a blonde haired girls sighs next to you as you swipe your ID card to enter the university building for your first official day of work. “I thought I was going to be the only new TA here,” she confides in you as your shoes click down the corridor as you make your way through the halls. 

You flash her a comforting smile, “Same here. But I think there’s more of us on the way. Besides, we’re relatively early.” 

As a last year graduate student, you needed to be a teaching assistant in order to get your degree and finish your course requirements. It wasn’t an opportunity you were thrilled about, but it would give you hands on teaching experience in a university setting that could be very valuable. That was, if you had the right professor.

“I’m Luna, by the way,” the girl next to you chimes as she fixes the strap of her purse, offering you her hand to shake, gladly accepting it. “I’m a TA for Women and Gender Studies,” she adds proudly.

“I’m (Y/N),” you smile, “TA for Philosophy.” Luna looks impressed as you tell her about your area of study, making you laugh. “I promise it’s not as bad as it sounds. I quite like it, actually. Just hoping the professor I’m assisting is a good one,” you nervously speak, turning the corner to walk to the Dean’s office.

Luna shakes her head, “I hear you. It’s definitely nerve wracking, but Hogwarts University has some of the top rated professors in the country, so I really don’t think we’ll have many problems in that department.” 

You suck in a deep breath as you nod. The university was quite prestigious, you were shocked when you were informed you would be assisting here, but honored nonetheless. However, there was still a pool of nerves that swam around in your stomach as you thought about the professor you would be assisting. You could have a someone who was so knowledgeable in your field of study or someone who was a complete ass. It was a dice roll. “One can only hope,” you sigh before arriving in front of the Dean’s door, placing three knocks on the wooden door.

The door swings open to reveal a happy looking man, brown hair combed back and a toothy grin on his face. He wore houndstooth pants with a white button down tucked in and a neatly tied bow tie around his neck, matching the color pattern of his pants. His face glowed with excitement as he beamed, “Ms. Lovegood, Miss (Y/L/N), so glad to finally have you with us!” You and Luna offered him a warm smile in return as he opened his office door wider for the two of you to enter. “Welcome to Hogwarts! I’m Dean Longbottom, but you two can just call me Neville,” he smiles as he sits behind his desk adorned with small succulents and stationary. “I’ve been anticipating your arrival along with the other teaching assistants for awhile. It’s so nice that we have such a large pool of you for this semester. The professors are quite lucky to get quite a brilliant bunch like you,” he compliments.

“Speaking on behalf of all the TAs, I think I can confidently say we feel honored to be here,” Luna smiles softly as the dean chuckles and you nod.

Neville nods his head, “We are honored to have you.” You and Luna thank him before he begins again, “So, the two of you have some time before you are reporting to your classrooms for lecture. How about I give you the tour of the campus? A proper Hogwarts welcome?”

You and Luna excitedly agree and Dean Longbottom starts to walk you through the hallways of the beautiful university. The university had once been castle during the Gothic era, still maintaining the same structure. Beautiful hallways, paintings of founders hung in the walls, windows adorned with stained glass as sunlight seeped through. “The dining hall is on the left over here,” Neville gestures, revealing a large room lined with tables, school flags hanging high as students varying in year gather to chat and eat. “And if you look ahead, you’ll find the campus courtyard. It’s beautiful this time of year with the flowers in full bloom,” Neville smiles to himself. “Across the street are the campuses houses. Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, Syltherins, and Hufflepuffs,” he points as you see tall houses, coated in paint of their respective colors. “I myself was a Gryffindor when I was a student,” he jokes, earning a laugh from you and Luna. “Other than that, I think that concludes the tour. Here are your staff lanyards and your professor assignments have been forwarded to you in your emails. There’s still some time left before lecture, so feel free to hang around campus or in the staff lounge. If you need anything, please, don’t hesitate. I’ll see you two very soon!” he waves before disappearing down the hall. 

In this moment, you take the time to look around the hall to see the bustling student body, smiling and laughing as they make their way down the halls. You softly smile to yourself, reminiscing about when you were an undergraduate. A freshman in the halls, excited for university. Now, you were nearly done with graduate school, soon to be a certified professor. Time had flown by in the blink of an eye. 

“You want to take a peak in the staff lounge?” Luna disturbs your thoughts.

Turning to her, you give her a smile and a nod before walking up the stairs three levels to reach the staff lounge. Inside were a few professors scattered here and there, but mostly there were TAs. The room radiated buzzing nervous energy as red lanyards signifying TA status hung around a few necks. One of the boys sitting at the table spotted the red lanyard and spoke cooly, “You’ve found the right place.” 

He rose from his chair and walked over to you and Luna with a shocking amount of confidence. His jet black hair was gelled back neatly, a crisp light blue button up and handsome tie clung on his neck as he stuck out a hand for you to shake. “Name’s Harry,” he proudly shook your hand. “I was a TA here two years ago, now in charge of the TA program and coordinator for the math department. You two look new. Not that it’s a bad thing, it’s just I could sense it,” he laughs.

“(Y/N),” you shake his hand firmly as he smiles. Luna does the same with a small smile. “You’re right about the new part. It’s both our first semesters here,” you confirm. 

Harry nods and walks back to his chair, leaning back, tucking his hands in his pockets. “Nice. What’s your area of focus?” he asks. 

Luna grabs a seat and speaks, “Women and Gender Studies. You by any chance know a Ginevra Weasley? She’ll be the professor I’m assisting this semester.”

Harry lets out a chuckle before an unfamiliar voice speaks up, “Oh, Potter is familiar here with Ms. Ginevra Weasley. That’s his fiancé.” You turn around to face a smirking face as he sips on his piping cup of black coffee. “I’m Seamus Finnegan. Head TA for the chemistry department,” he introduces. “You’ve lucked out,” he tells Luna. “Ginny is the best in the department. She’s a hard ass, but you’ll learn a lot from her.”

Luna smiles to herself, “Very excited to get started then.” 

“What about you?” Harry nods to you as Seamus slides into a seat next to Harry. “Area of study?”

“Philosophy,” you reply cooly. Seamus gives you an impressed look as Harry smiles lightly. “Specifically Ethics,” you add on. “I’m assisting another Weasley, actually?” you look at Luna. “Are they by any chance related?” you ask Harry and Seamus.

The two of them just chuckle as Harry sighs, “Yeah, the whole family basically teaches here. You’ll learn fast. They all got jobs at the same time since their father is on the board of directors. All of them deserve to be here though. Brilliant professors, all of them.”

You let out a sigh of relief that you didn’t realize you were holding in. Confirmation that you had a more than capable professor was good news. 

Seamus continues on Harry’s tangent. “Basically one in each department,” he shrugs. “Ginny is a  women and gender studies professor, Percy is the head of the business department, Charles is in the vet school, Bill is an adjunct professor now, but he’s in the language department with a focus in French, Ron is the European History professor and by the looks of it, he’ll be the head of the department next year, George is the chemistry professor I assist, and then there’s Fred w-”

“That’s the one,” you interrupt. “He’s the one I’m assisting this semester. How’s he? Do you have any intel that could help a new bee out?” you ask hopefully with a glimmer of jest in your voice. But the look on Harry and Seamus’ faces make your stomach do a flip. They look at each other knowingly as Seamus lets out a small chuckle. He mutters a small yikes before sipping on his coffee and excuses himself from the table to go attend his lecture with George. “What was that look about? Is he a lazy professor?” you groan.

Harry lightly laughs and shakes his head, scratching the back of his neck. “Fred Weasley is a great professor, no need to worry about that. He’s just...how do I put this without getting fired?” he whispers the last bit to himself as your eyes widen and you lean in closer with a what?, making Harry shake his head. “It’s not bad, I swear, he’s not like...unstable or anything. He’s just very cocky. Fred is good at his job and he knows it. He doesn’t let anyone forget it. He’s been ranked top professor at the school for the past three years and wears it like a badge of honor.” 

Great, a cocky professor. A narcissist. Just what you needed when starting a job that could determine the fate of your career. You sigh and flop back in your chair as Luna gives you a sympathetic look. “Bloody brilliant,” you huff.

“He’s a great professor though!” Harry tries to make light of the conversation. “Fred has been teaching straight out of university, so he knows what he’s doing. Students really admire him and his lectures are some of the best that I’ve seen. He knows how to have fun in the class, but he doesn’t take any bullshit,” Harry reassures you as you give him a weak nod. It was nice to hear that he was at least respected and admired by the students. Maybe you could learn to do the same. 

Luna takes a look at her watch and gives you a nudge. “It’s twenty minutes until the new lecture block. Reckon we should introduce ourselves to our professors?” she asks as you sigh with a reluctant nod. After that bit of information you just received, you were less excited to meet your professor. “It was nice meeting you, Harry,” she beams to Harry as you two rise from your seats. 

“Lovely meeting you two. I’m sure I’ll catch you around in the halls,” he winks friendly before you both exit the staff lounge.

Nervously, you played with the cuffs of your turtleneck, walking down the halls, parting with Luna, wishing the other good luck in their first lecture. As you strolled the hallway of the fifth floor, searching from room 523 where Philosophical Ethics would take place. You wondered how he would look. Old, no doubt. Harry said he’s been teaching since he graduated which had to mean he was in his late forties. Was he a cranky old white man? Great. Just fantastic. He probably had the traditional way of teaching which meant he sat at the front of the classroom and spoke at the class for three hours. Your worst nightmare. How could someone ruin something you loved?

You stumble upon the wooden door with golden paint etched into it 523. With a confident inhalation, you push the door open and enter the classroom, neatly set up for the next lecture. Three rows of eight, one next to the other. In the front of the classroom was a large chalkboard with the words Welcome to Ethics written in sloppy handwriting. Gently, there was soft jazz music playing from a small speaker, filling the classroom, saxophone and trumpet melodies echoing. Everything looked normal. Except for who sat at the desk.

At the front of the classroom, sitting at a dark brown desk was a tall, lean young man with tuffs of orange hair styled back. He wore a freshly ironed white button down that was tucked neatly into a pair of chestnut corduroys with matching brown chukka boots. His sleeves were rolled to his elbows, showing off his muscular biceps and toned arms. A shiny silver Rolex watch was strapped on his left wrist as he tapped a pen against his desk. But you couldn’t get over how young he was. The youth in his face was lively as his dark chocolate eyes scanned over a paper in front of him. Your presence was unknown to him as he continued to flip through papers, dragging his pen across the margins. 

Politely, you clear your throat, causing him to look up from his paper, looking up at you. When his eyes landed on yours, you gulped thickly. His whole face was undeniably attractive. His angled jaw, full lips, soft eyes. He gave you a confused look. “Lecture isn’t for another twenty minutes,” he told you before looking back down at his paper, almost dismissing you. “But feel free to have your choice in seat. I hope you don’t mind the music. Let me know if it’s distracting,” he tells you before flipping the pages again.

You inhale deeply. “Actually, Professor Weasley, I’m (Y/N),” you introduce yourself. Professor Weasley looks up at you with confused eyes, trying to put together your identity. “Your TA for the semester?” you speak with a small smile. “I’m very excited to get started with you.”

But before you can ask him what you could do to help set up the classroom, he speaks, “I didn’t ask for a TA.”

His words take you aback for a moment. Instead of an introduction or even a simple hello, he told you he didn’t ask for a TA. “I beg your pardon?” you ask with almost a laugh.

“I didn’t ask for a TA. I don’t need one,” he clarifies to you, rising from his desk as you gulp, taking in how tall he was, standing proudly above you. “I’ve never needed a TA in the past, and I don’t know who decided I needed one this year. After being voted best professor since I got here, I don’t understand why this is the year I need one,” he laughs, making his way around the desk, leaning against it, tucking his hands in his pockets.

You give him a disturbed look. Harry telling you that Fred Weasley was cocky was a damn understatement. The bloody guy was telling you to your face that you weren’t wanted or needed here. That he could do his job perfectly fine without you. “I’m sure you don’t need one, Professor, but this was my assignment. Dean Longbottom assigned me here and I’m just following what I was told to do in order to get my degree,” you tell him, trying to remain cool and polite when you’d rather tell him to suck it up and deal with it.

Fred run his fingers through his hair before placing them on either side of his body, leaning back into his desk, tongue pressed against his cheek. His biceps flexed underneath his tight white shirt, making you gulp, trying not to get distracted at the fact that your professor was not only a dick, but an incredibly handsome one. “Neville assigned you?” he laughed. “Alright. Well, I’ll go down to office and get this sorted away,” he huffed before standing up straight.

But before he could take a step further, you stopped him, now getting frustrated that this guy didn’t even try being nice to you. “Hold on,” you stopped him, fixing the strap of your purse on your shoulder before placing it on the desk next to you. “This job was assigned to me. There are no other TA positions available in the philosophy department this late in the game. I’m not gonna lose this job just because you allegedly don’t need a TA,” you try to keep cool, but the venom leaks out every now and then.

Fred gives you a light chuckle before speaking, “Not allegedly. I don’t need one. There’s a reason why I’m one of the most successful and youngest professors. I can run this class by myself without some grad student’s help.”

Now, you are pissed. “Alright, you know what?” you fold your arms over your chest. “I don’t appreciate being spoken to like this. I’ve worked very hard to get where I am and I will be respected. Regardless if I am a TA, or a student, or a co-worker. I am here to do a job and I will do that job no matter what anyone says,” you tell him as he just stares at you, a cocky smirk on his face that makes your blood boil. It was like he wasn’t listening to a word you were saying. “So how about we save ourselves the dramatics and just be satisfied with the fact that this is the situation?”

Fred just exhales and rubs hand over his face. You could tell he didn’t want you here, and quite frankly, you didn’t want to be here either after his little stunt. You were quite sure he was capable of running his own class, but you weren’t here to take his job. You were here to be an assistant to his teaching, being there to support and help him. This was a requirement for you, not a pastime. “Alright then,” he eventually states, making the way back to his desk. “You can grab a desk from the rows and bring it up to the front, I guess,” he huffs as you remain standing with your arms still folded across your chest. 

He looks up and gives you a look. “Aren’t you going to introduce yourself?” you ask with venom pouring from your glossed lips as you give him a sarcastic smile. 

Fred gives you a sarcastic smile back as he drops his pen and speaks, “Fred Weasley. MA in Philosophy and Human Ethics. Cambridge Graduate. Cum laude.” The pride dripped from his voice as he leaned back in his chair, folding his arms behind his head. “And you are?”

You wanted to throw your shoe at his head, your blood was boiling at how arrogant and prideful this man was. “If you were listening before, you would know my name is (Y/N). MA in Philosophy and Human Ethics. University of Oxford. 3.98 GPA,” you mimic him.

Fred gives out a chuckle as you grab your purse and start to settle yourself in the room. “Oxford student? Fitting that our universities are rivals,” he huffs before pulling a desk and chair over for you, placing it near his desk. 

“And why would that be?” you ask sarcastically as Fred bites the inside of his cheek, trying not to snap a snarky response back at you. “Listen, Fred, I’m just here to do my job and do it well. I’m not here to step on your toes. I’m here to finish my requirements so I can get certified,” you tell him as you stand beside your desk, smoothing out your plaid skirt that your turtleneck was tucked neatly into. 

As you stand there, Fred’s eyes rake up and down your body, taking you in as a whole. The first time he’s done this since you walked in. His eyes are like magnets, scanning every inch of your body and how you carry yourself so confidently in the space. When his eyes reach yours, you inhale deeply, trying to prevent the heat from rising to your cheeks as your handsome superior checks you out. “I’m not worried about you, darling,” his thick accent coos. “You’re the least of my worries.”

Just as the words slip out of his mouth, students start to file into the classroom, greeting Fred with good mornings and how are you’s. You tell yourself to calm down, to remain friendly, and cool. As the students file in, Fred greets them all with a warm smile. “Welcome back everyone. This is Philosophical Ethics with Professor Weasley. You all can call me Professor, Professor Weasley, Fred, Professor Fred. Just not Freddie, that one is reserved for my mum,” he teases, earning a few chuckles from the class. He glances over to you with a small stare and begrudgingly introduces you, “This is (Y/N), my TA for the semester. She will be here with us for...?”

“The whole semester,” you remind him with a sweet smile contrasted by your  daggers for eyes. “Looking forward to working with you all,” you tell the class with a warm smile, receiving a few back in return.

Fred sighs, “Right. Well, anyway, let’s take roll and then get right into things, yeah?” The class nods as you sigh. “Alright, who can talk to me about Nietzsche?”

This was going to be a long semester.

Three hours of the class went by at a sluggish pace. Not to mention, Fred didn’t extent an invitation for your opinion or thoughts during the lesson. You didn’t expect him to let you teach the class, but instead, you just sat and listened to him run the class. 

Although he didn’t let you say much, you had to admit that his lecture was quite good. He led the class in a really interesting way, almost like a Socratic seminar type. He let his students make observations and create open dialogues about the philosophy you were covering. Fred encouraged student’s thoughts rather than shut them down and he tried to encourage everyone to participate to make sure everyone said what they wanted to say. But you, he didn’t extend that offer. 

Instead, you took notes. Notes on Fred Weasley. The way he spoke with his hands, how he sloppily wrote on the board with chalk, underlining words, circling, and drawing small diagrams. How he folded his arms across his chest when someone brought up a provocative thought. How he nibbled on his bottom lip when a student asked him a question. How he glanced over at you every once in awhile, catching your eye and smirking when he caught you looking at him. You would roll your eyes and continue to scribble down his mannerisms, what he focused on in class, and how he conducted it. 

The students ate up everything that fell from his lips. It was like magic, the way he could capture 20 students attention about something as niche as existentialism. But you couldn’t lie, Fred Weasley was captivating.

“Okay, for next week’s class read Nicomachean Ethics and start drawing comparisons and differences between Aristotle and Nietzsche,” Fred announces as he closes his book and dismisses his students for the day, a chorus of thank you’s and have a good day’s echo in the classroom.

The final student exits as Fred retires back to his desk, sorting papers and filing away miscellaneous papers. You click your pen as you watch him, waiting for him to break the silence. But instead he sits at his desk and starts scribbling into his planner. With a sigh, you break the silence and speak, “You give a really informative lecture. You engage with the students really well.”

You thought a compliment would be a peace offering. An olive branch of sorts. But Fred took it as an opportunity to dig into you. “I know. That’s why it’s a full class and I’ve got a waitlist 30 kids long,” he speaks without looking up at his desk. 

The guy was cocky as all hell and he was letting you soak it all in. The grip on your pen grows tighter as you click your tongue against the roof of your mouth in irritation, trying to maintain a steady facade. “So,” you breathe out as you grab your bag, pulling your notebook from your back. “You want to talk about lesson plans? I see that you’ve assigned Aristotle for the next week and a half. Maybe a smooth transition would be going into Kant and talking about the categorical imperative?” you suggest, sitting on a desk in front of Fred’s.

He peers up at you through his lashes, your legs dangling from the desk. He gives you all of his attention as he pushes his sleeves further up his arms, fiddling with the lock on his Rolex. “I’ve already taken care of the lesson plans for the rest of the semester. It’s all planned out. It has been since last month,” he explains to you as you nod your head, thinking he would offer something else for you to do.

“Okay,” you trail off. “Is there...anything you want me to do? Coordinate office hours? Set up my own as well so I can be a resource to the students. I can give you my phone number and email to put on the syllabus, so the students know they can reach out to me if they have any questions,” you tell him as you start to scribble down your email and number.

But Fred shakes his head, “Won’t be necessary. If a student needs you, they’ll come to you. Besides, they should really come to me if they need anything since I have more knowledge about the course.”

His passive comments were starting to pile up on you as you inhale deeply, your chest heaving. The turtleneck around your body felt very warm as anger started to bubble in your chest. “Maybe if you told me about the course, I could be a valuable resource to students. Remember, I’m just as qualified as you. I just haven’t graduated yet,” you remind Fred as you lean back on the desk, legs swinging back and forth as Fred starts to pack up his briefcase.

“Yet,” he looks up at you with a smirk, pink lips curled upwards as he leans over his desk, gathering his things. Even though the smirk was condescending as all hell, it did something to you. In more than one way. It made anger gather in your chest, frustration tingle in your temples, but butterflies pitter patter away deep in your stomach.

“So what exactly do you want me to do?” you ask, folding your arms across your chest as Fred grabs his jacket with one hand, his briefcase in the other as he does a once over his desk.

Calmly, Fred speaks, “You can start by filing away those papers on my desk and then once that’s done, make a list of the students in grade point average order. I want to know who needs the most help and who is fine on their own.” After he gives you that direction, he starts for the door.

With a scoff, you hop down from the desk. “And you’re just going to leave?” you laugh at him as he place his hand on the door with a shrug. “You know I am a teaching assistant. Not your personal assistant,” you spit at him.

Fred swings the door open and stands there with a smile. “Teaching is more than just standing front of a room as talking out of your ass, dear,” he tells you as the nickname makes you bite your tongue from yelling at him. 

“You really are arrogant, you know that?” you sneer at him with your hands on your hips, glaring at him. You stare at him as he stands in front of the open door, jacket laid over his forearm, leather briefcase in hand, his other hand combing through his fire red hair.

Fred smiles lightly to you before sighing, “I’m bloody brilliant, (Y/N). You would be arrogant, too.” His words make you shake your head with a scoff. “Sort those papers for me, won’t you? I’ll see you tomorrow in here. Early. 9am sharp.”

But before you can ask him why, he’s out the door and calling after another professor, leaving you alone to your own devices. You let out a frustrated groan as you cover your face with your hands. Of course, you got stuck with the prick professor who takes advantage of an extra set of hands. You walk over to his desk and see a small stack of papers to be sorted and filed away along with the list he wanted you to organize. 

You plop yourself into the desk seat and carefully start going through each file, examining each student’s credentials, organizing them by GPA and last name. You note who could be a tutor and who needs a tutor, who is at exit level, who is at entry level, so on and so forth. The task was interesting, but so time consuming. It was a way you could start to learn more about your students, even if it was through paper.

It had been an hour and a half and you were on your last file when you hear a gentle knock at the door. Slowly, it creaks open to reveal Luna and Harry together. Luna carries two lattes in her hand and smiles, extending her arm out to give it to you. “You are a saint, you know that?” you laugh as you accept the warm, caffeinated beverage. 

“You’re still working?” she asks in disbelief as you finalize some last notes in the margins of one student’s file. “But class ended almost two hours ago.”

You look up at the both of them. “Oh, I know. But Fred left after the lecture and insisted I do the filing and note taking whilst he got to leave on time,” you speak through gritted teeth, finishing scribbling your last note and flopping the pen down, leaning back in the desk chair with a huff. “You weren’t lying when you told me he’s a self-righteous fuck,” you talk to Harry.

Harry laughs and digs his hands into his pockets with a huff. “Well, I didn’t use those words,” he laughs as you give him a look through your mascara coated lashes. He gives you a sorry sigh and leans over the desk, “Fred is a great guy one on one, but as a professor...he just likes having reign over his classroom. It’s not just you. His last TA was three years ago and he made the kid miserable. The kid, Dean Thomas, was so sick of philosophy after he switched to psychology. Now he’s a first year professor.” You roll your eyes and push yourself out of the desk, grabbing your purse and notebooks, piling them all in as Harry continues. “What happened today?”

Recounting the moments of the day made you frustrated, but you allowed yourself to vent to your co-workers. “Well, when I walked in, he thought I was a student,” you speak as Harry and Luna give you an apologetic look, Harry muttering an ouch. “Oh, that’s not even the worst part. Then I told him I was a TA and he told me he didn’t need one, because he’s more than capable of running his own classroom,” you mimic his pompous attitude. “He had the gall to threaten me to go to Neville’s office and find me a replacement class! I mean, sure, he’s a great professor, but that doesn’t mean he’s the only good one in this bloody school!” you exclaim, frustrated failing your arms, earning a small chuckle from Harry and Luna. “I’m sorry, I’m just very frustrated that this is how my first day on the job went,” you run your fingers through your hair, shaking your head.

“No need to apologize,” Luna walks over and touches your shoulder gently. “He sounds...unpleasant...” she tries to be as cordial as possible, earning a giggle from you. “But maybe you’ll warm up to each other? It’s only the first day. We have a whole semester ahead of us,” she looks between you and Harry cheerfully. In a weird way, her light, happy tone made you feel a little better.

You sigh, “I guess so. Ugh, a whole semester with Fred Weasley...” 

The three of you start out of the classroom and start to make your way down the halls, retiring to the staff parking lot and bus stops. But before you can make your way to the public transportation, Harry suggests, “Hey, a few of us are headed to the bar to grab a drink before headed home. Do you both fancy coming?”

Luna perks up and shakes her head with an eager yes please. The idea of grabbing drinks sounded great and just what you needed after this gruesome day. But the looming thought of having to get up early and meet Fred in the classroom tomorrow at nine sharp hung over you like a storm cloud. With a sigh, you speak, “Wish I could. But Fred is making me meet him at nine to talk about lesson plans or something. Last thing I need is showing up hungover to my second day on the job.”

Harry and Luna groan in protest. “Oh, come on! You can’t let Fred rob you of your autonomy!” Luna stomps her foot and grabs your hand. “One drink won’t hurt! We’ll both have one pint and then I’ll take the bus back with you. We’re only one stop away from each other on the blue line,” she tries to convince you.

Harry starts dancing backwards to his car as he beeps it open. “I’ve got an extra seat,” he sing songs as he opens up the door for you.

A small smile creeps up on your face as you sigh. One drink couldn’t hurt. Just one cheeky little drink and then home away you would go. The night was still young, so you’d still be in bed at a reasonable hour. One drink. “You guys suck,” you laugh as you start walking to Harry’s car as Luna claps her hands in glee and Harry triumphantly punches the air, making you laugh.

-------

The morning sun creeps through your window, making you groan and roll over. The sunlight hurt your eyes and made your stomach churn as a headache pounds through your cranium, making you feel sick. “Bloody hell,” you whisper as you sit up and rub your eyes. 

You slowly start to remember the events of last night and everyone there. It was all the TAs, including some of the younger professors. You met another Weasley, Ron you think. The history professor. Absolutely nothing like Fred. He was charming and goofy in a lovable way as he sat next to his wife, Hermione, a classical literature professor, an arm draped over her shoulders. Seamus was also there along with a few other chemistry TAs as they sat at a high rise table, pointing and whispering about the business professors and TAs who sat all the way in the back, drinking scotch and making mild chatter.

“No bother meeting them,” Seamus told you as you sipped on a gin and tonic. “The business professors and TAs are all little shits. The one with the blonde hair is Draco Malfoy. He thinks he’s better than everyone because he got his PhD, but everyone knows his dad paid off the university to give him the doctorate. His TAs all kiss his ass to get in his good graces. Zabini, Nott, Goyle, all of them,” he groans before taking a long sip of his ale, making you laugh.

You had tried to tell yourself that you would only stay for one drink, but then you started yourself in conversation with the other TAs about undergrad and grad school, realizing the mutual friends you had with each other. And then, you found yourself being convinced by Ron to do a green tea shot with him as he toasted to all of the new TAs of the semester. And with that, one drink became six.

With a groan, you slump yourself up in your small studio apartment and rub your temples. As the sunlight leaked in through your white linen curtains, you check the clock. The hands pointed to 8:25am which made you gasp and rise to your feet. “Motherfucker,” you huff to yourself as you run to the bathroom. You had to meet Fred at 9 and it already took you twenty minutes to get to campus which left you with virtually no time to get ready. “Shit, shit, shit,” you turn on the shower quickly, running to your closet to grab a fresh pair of plaid pants and a jumper. “I’m so dead,” you whisper to yourself as you scramble to get ready.

You frantically rub soap all over your body with one hand and brush your teeth with the other, needing to freshen up after a long night out. The shower was cold and unpleasant as you shivered before hoping out and throwing your clothes on, opting to skip a full face of makeup and just pop on tinted moisturizer and lip balm. 

Checking the clock again, it was 8:35 and you groan in frustration. “I am a fucking moron,” you curse at yourself, grabbing your purse and notebooks and pens and papers, trying to get yourself organized before racing out the door to catch the bus. You run to your pantry to grab a granola bar as your phone starts buzzing on your nightstand. “Who the fuck is it?!” you scream as if your phone could hear you.

Stomping over, you grab it and see it was Harry calling you. “I’m kinda rushing to get out the door, Potter, make it quick, what’s up?” you babble as you slip your shoes in your Oxfords, lacing them up quickly.

Harry chuckles over the line. “I figured as much. You were a bit of a mess last night,” he tells you as you groan. “I’m only teasing you. But that being said, I’m passing your street in like two minutes, do you wanna catch a ride instead of betting on the bus?” he offers.

You sigh the biggest sigh of relief as you immediately respond. “Harry, you are a life saver,” you huff as Harry laughs. “I’ll be downstairs in a hot second. I just need to grab my coat and keys,” you tell him before hanging up.

Someone had your back today and sent Harry Potter to you. Rushing over to your coat rack, you grab your trench coat and your keys, doing a once over of your apartment, making sure you had everything, turned off all the lights and faucets. With a confident sigh, you exit your apartment, lock the door, and rush down the stairs. 

As expected, Harry sat in his car with a ginger haired woman in the passenger seat. You give him an exhausted smile as you open the back seat and slide in. “Morning,” he chimes as you shut the door and buckle your seatbelt. “How are we feeling?”

You give him a knowing look. “Fuck off,” you grumble as he laughs. “I can’t believe I let myself get carried away like that last night.” You never let yourself loose track of time like that; you felt so irresponsible. “If you didn’t call me, I would surely have my ass handed to me by Fred today.”

“Fred?” the woman in the passenger seat chimes in. “Are you the poor TA who has to deal with my brother this semester?” she asks as you sigh and nod. “Good God, I apologize on his behalf. He can be a dick sometimes. I’m Ginny by the way.”

She turns to you, offering her hand to shake as you gladly accept it. “The women and gender studies professor, right?” you ask as she proudly nods. “Pleasure to meet you. I’m (Y/N), philosophy,” you tell her with a smile. “You and Harry are engaged, if I remember correctly?”

Ginny smiles happily and flashes you her engagement ring. “Just recently, yeah,” she confirms with an admiring look to Harry as he drives down the road, a small smile on his lips. “We met when we were both TAs and have been together since,” she recounts with a smile. “Enough of that though, how are you finding Hogwarts so far? With exception of my bothersome older brother,” she reframes the question.

“So far, so good,” you tell her honestly. The staff at the university was class. Everyone was so warm and welcoming and made you feel at home instantly. “I think last night I also met your brother, Ron. He kept handing out shots to the new TAs,” you recall as the pang in your head agrees.

Ginny rolls her eyes. “Yeah, that’s him. Ron likes to mess with the new bees every year,” she speaks. “Here, take this,” she hands you a piece of spearmint gum and a tube of mascara. “It’ll make you feel better, trust me,” she winks as you thank her. “Harry should have given you a heads up on that one,” she elbows him.

Harry shakes his head, “Ron has been my best mate since grad school, I’m not revealing his tricks to anyone no matter how good of a friend they are.” And with that, Harry pulls into the staff parking lot of Hogwarts as the time reads on the dashboard 8:55am. 5 minutes to spare.

As Harry puts the car in park, you unbuckle yourself and say, “I hate to rush out like this, but I quite literally have to dash to get to this meeting with Fred on time. Ginny, it was lovely meeting you. Harry, I owe you one. Thanks so much for the ride,” you slide out of the car as you dash towards the school.

“You can buy me a round of drinks!” he teases after you as you shake your head, dashing through the halls of Hogwarts to get to classroom 523.

You dart in between students as you run up the stairs, purse in hand, hair flowing as you make a mad dash. Finally, you reach the classroom and push the door open to reveal no one in the room. “Seriously?” you huff out of breath. You just ran here for no reason. Fred was no where to be found. But after closer inspection, there was a small sticky note on the chalkboard that read be back in ten. You huff and throw your bag down, walking around the classroom, trying to distract yourself from your throbbing headache.

The classroom is neatly decorated, plants here and there, the windows open to draw in fresh air as you inhale deeply. Then you remember from yesterday. There was a small speaker by Fred’s desk, connected to the desktop on his desk. You walk over and press the power button, making the speak bleep on with a blue flashing light. You press play and see what was on the queue. Soft jazz music starts playing, specifically Frank Sinatra’s I’ve Got You Under My Skin. You smile to yourself, how fitting. 

As the jazz music echos lightly, you allow yourself to sway gently to the music, smiling to yourself. The song reminds you of working late in the library when you were in school, listening to music to maintain your focus. You hum the melody to yourself, dancing around the classroom, looking at the bookshelves, letting your fingers trace down their backbones. You allow yourself to start softly singing the lyrics as the tempo picks up, swaying back and forth as you pluck a book from the shelf, scanning it’s contents. 

The song picks up, the brass section wailing as you dance around, reading the first few pages of a random book from Fred’s collection. You continue to sing out loud, a little off key as you smile to yourself. In this moment, you were content, regardless of how gross you felt. “’Cause I’ve got you under my skin,” you sang gently as you continued to dance back and forth, cradling the book in your arms.

But you are pulled from your day dream when a voice speaks, “You’re a fan of old blue eyes?” You let out a light squeal as you see Fred standing there, watching you with a small smirk on his mouth, holding two coffees in his hand. 

You place a hand over your heart, monitoring how it thuds against your chest from being startled. You looked at Fred and sighed. He stood there, in a light tan khakis, crispy white shirt with a maroon tie hanging from his neck. A pair of square glasses sat on the bridge of his nose as his chocolate brown eyes peered at yours through them. “Sorry you had to see that,” you chuckle. “Sinatra is one of my favorites.”

Fred chuckles, “No need to apologize. Frank is one of the greats.” He walks over to you and hands you a coffee as you tuck the book in your hands under one of your arms. “Figured you’d need one of these,” he refers to the coffee. “TAs usually have quite the night out of the first day of work,” he recalls with a small smile. Was he...being friendly? But before you could ask how he knew you went out, he answered, “Ron is my brother. I know his ways. Because he learned them from me.” You laugh and shake your head. “I don’t know how you take your coffee, but I assumed a latte with an extra shot would suffice?” 

You give him a soft smile, “Yeah, that’s perfect. Thanks so much. I appreciate it.” Fred nods and sits as his desk with a huff, pulling himself close to the desk. “So, what did you want to talk about?”

Fred pulls his glasses off of his face and twirls them in between his fingers as you watch the glasses spin around and around. “I wanted to talk about expectations for the class and for you,” he speaks as you nod and take a sip of your warm latte that almost instantly helps with your headache. “I...I realize that we may have not gotten off to the best start yesterday...and I apologize for my behavior,” he speak as you nod.

An apology was a good start. “You’re forgiven,” you simply state.

“Thank you,” he adds before rubbing a hand over his lips. “As for the class, I just want to make sure we’re on the same page. This class is a prestigious course. One of the harder ones in the department. That being said, I think it’s best for me to have the reigns on the class and lead class lectures. You are free to observe and aid in answering questions about assignments or papers,” he tells you as he leans back in his chair, thinking he made a reasonable bargain. But it was quite the opposite.

You weren’t here to sit around and listen to another philosophy professor spew a scripted lecture. You did that for four years in undergraduate school. You were here to learn how to teach a classroom, how to run a lesson plan, how to gain hands on experience. Being a puppet in the corner was not going to accomplish any of those things. “Fred, I appreciate the apology. But this offer is not acceptable,” you state calmly. “I’m your teaching assistant. I’m here to help in any way I can, of course, but I’m also here to help teach and instruct the class. You are suppose to help me learn how to teach the class.”

Fred nods, “And you can do that by matters of observation.”

His way of brushing you off made you infuriated again, just like yesterday. Did he do this to everyone? “But don’t you think it would be more helpful for me to have some actual hands on experience? Like actually teaching the class?” you tell him more than ask him.

He rises from his chair and sighs, “I don’t need you creating a new lesson plan. I’ve been using this one since I got here and it works. If it isn’t broke, don’t fix it.” Fred walks over to the board and writes in bold letters, Aristotle, preparing for today’s lecture. The way that he so nonchalantly stated that to you and started writing on the board as if he didn’t insult your intelligence made you infuriated.

“You’re a fucking prick,” you flat out spew. You wish you could take it back, you really did. As soon as the words left your lips, you regretted what you had said to him. Insulting your superior was surefire to get you fired and released from your job, making you ineligible to graduate. But damn did it feel good to say. 

Fred turns around to look at you, eyebrows furrows as if you just spoke in a foreign language to him. “I’m a fucking prick?” he repeats, folding his arms across his chest, leaning back on the chalkboard, crossing his legs as you stand in front of him, completely enraged, fists tight next to your sides. “Wouldn’t be the first time I heard that,” he laughs, combing his fingers through his hair, as if what you said was a compliment.

“Well the people who said it before were right! You’re cocky and arrogant and self-righteous and pompous and self-absorbed. You clearly have no intention of helping anyone but yourself! That’s probably why you like being a professor! So everyone listens to every last bit you say,” you start to ramble. Now that you had said what was on your mind, it was almost impossible to stop. The words flew off your tongue like a jet. 

Boldly, Fred pushes himself off the chalkboard, hands dug into his pant’s pockets as he walks closer to you. A small smirk dances along his lips as his tongue darts out and drags across his lower lip. The action makes your breath hitch in your throat as you mentally curse yourself, wanting to be annoyed with him, but yet you found yourself aroused. “Keep going,” he urges. “Go on. Tell me how unbearable I am. You’ve only known me twenty four hours, but it seems like you have me all figured out,” he speaks, just a foot away from your body.

Adrenaline is coursing through your veins, your lips slightly parted as you take heaving breaths, making your chest rise and fall quickly. Fred’s eyes scan your face, soaking in your annoyed and confused expression. You suddenly become very aware of how close he is to you and you shake your head, taking a step back. “I only need a day to know an asshole when I see one,” you simply state, folding your arms over your chest. Your expression reads as if it were Fred’s turn to take a dig at you.

Fred chuckles lowly before speaking, “Here’s your problem, darling.” The endearing terms makes your stomach curdle. “You don’t get the hands on experience your second day on the job. You’ve gotta prove to me that you can run a class and keep their attention for three hours. You think it’s easy keeping the attention of a bunch of twenty year olds when you’re talking about philosophy? It’s not as easy as you may think it is,” Fred explain as you roll your eyes. “I was in your shoes once before, so I know what you’re experiencing.”

You laugh, “Oh, don’t pull that card. You’re a professor now. You did your time in my shoes. Don’t pretend like you’d give anything to go back.”

“Oh, honey, you couldn’t pay me enough to go back!” Fred retorts, now with an edge. “You know what. I could let you run today’s class,” he chuckles at the thought. “I could let you run it and watch you crash and fucking burn,” he emphasizes with a shrug. “I could watch those students trample all over you, you know why?” he asks looking at you intently as you gulp. “Because they don’t respect you! They don’t know who you are. In fact, they see you as one of them! If I mistook you as one of them on the first day, then what made you think they wouldn’t?” he asks as you inhale deeply. “Respect is earned when you are in a position of authority. Even if you’re just a professor. And you, (Y/N), haven’t earned that yet from the students. And I honestly don’t know if you have it from me.”

And with that last dig, the first student enters the classroom signaling that the first lecture of the day was ready to begin. Fred and you don’t acknowledge the student, just staring at each other. Fred’s words stung. Like a fresh wound, you were bleeding out. His words were sad, but true. You were a TA, but you were still a grad student. Fred worked to get to the position he was at. You just needed to prove to him that you were capable of handling yourself in a classroom setting as a teaching assistant.

You retreat back to your desk at the front of the room and sit down with a small huff, pulling out the attendance sheet, marking students as present as they enter the classroom.

Fred rubbed his hands over his face, feeling guilty for his out burst. He knew you were brilliant. To be quite honest, Fred knew he was going to get a TA. He had checked out your academic profile, seeing that you graduated undergrad with a nearly perfect grade point average and extra circulars that were sure to blow any one away. Your thesis statement made Fred laugh to himself, it was similar to his own when he was in university; the effect of utilitarianism on free will in our post-modern society. In a weird way, you reminded Fred of himself. Confident, smart, and ballsy. But where you differentiated with Fred is your adaptability. How you could adjust and go with the flow, that was Fred’s downfall.

Soon the classroom was full of students again and Fred took a deep breath, trying to regain his focus and composure to teach the class. He didn’t dare look at you, it would just make him upset. And you didn’t want to look at him. Fred sat on his desk, his long legs almost hitting the floor even when he sat. “Hello everyone,” he addressed the class, some students chiming back. “Let’s get started for the day. Shall we?” he claps his hands together. “Who can talk to me about eudaemonia?” he asks the class.

You looked out at the classroom along with Fred, anticipating a slew of hands but instead you got nothing. Students sat in their chairs in silence, some twiddling their pens, others scribbling in a notebook, some still groggy this during the ten o’clock lecture. “Someone’s gotta know about it. Come on then,” Fred probes the class as they remain silence, only sound is some kid yawning in the back. Fred allows the class to remain silent for a moment. “Alright,” he huffs. “Rough morning for a lot of us,” he speaks, hoping to catch your attention with that line, but you scribble nonsense into the margins of your notebook. “Maybe (Y/N) could give us a definition?” he suggests.

Your head shoots up like a rocket from your paper as you look at Fred with panic in your eyes. He looks at you with a small smile and encouragement, almost as if this were his way of making amends. A twisted way. You look towards the class and see twenty sets of eyes on you as you gulp before shaking away your nerves. “Um, yeah,” you clear your throat. “Eudaemonia is the greatest good, the aim for all human thinking and rational. Another word for eudaemonia is happiness,” you simply state, making the students start scribbling in their notebooks. Pride swells in your chest as you realize what you was valuable to the students. “Eudaemonia is achieve through action in tandem with the human soul and psyche. When eudaemonia is at its highest form, it is known as virtue,” you explain further as the class continues to scribble down what you were saying.

Slowly, you look towards Fred who gives you a small smile and a nod as you just give him a curt nod and turn back to your desk. But when you look away, it’s hard to cover up the small smile on your lips as you fiddle with the pen in your hands. Fred notices your grin as smiles to himself before speaking, “Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

Maybe today would be better than yesterday.

--------

Another two weeks had gone by and the work relationship you had with Fred improved significantly. He let you interject at certain points in his lectures, let you pose questions to the class, and even assigned you students for office hours. Finally, you started to feel like you were doing what you came here for and you were loving every moment of it.

Fred was a great professor and an even better mentor. He commanded a classroom unlike any other professor you have ever seen. He spoke with confidence and coolness and the students ate him up. It must be rewarding for him, watching students love his work as much as he did. You would watch him with a small smile as you jotted down notes here and there. Fred would catch your eye every now and then in class and gave you a small smile or cheeky wink that made your heart stop every now and then as you turned away from him, biting the inside of your cheek to make you stop smiling. 

“Remember to finish Kant’s Grounding for the Metaphysics of Morals for tomorrow’s class! If you haven’t turned in your paper on Nicomachean Ethics yet, do it by 4pm or else I will personally send (Y/N) to find you and hunt you down,” he teases the class as you roll your eyes, making the class laugh. “Happy Friday. Now scram,” Fred dismisses class as students file out.

When the majority of them have dispersed, you walk over to Fred’s desk and huff, “Good lecture today. Katie brought up some good questions about the differences between hypothetical imperatives and categorical imperatives.” Fred leans back in his desk chair, flopping his notebook down on his desk.

“Yeah, she did. But god, I wanted to punch Brian in the face. He kept talking over her while she was saying something poignant. I get it, Brian, there are different formulations, but damn, shut the fuck up,” Fred groans, making you laugh as you grab your bag and get ready to pack up for the day. “So, I hate to be the bearer of bad news...” he trails off as he rises from his seat.

You groan and throw your head back as you spin on your heels to face him. “Please, don’t tell me...” you start as Fred nods his head sadly. “Come on, Fred. It’s Friday night! Beginning of the weekend! All of the TAs are getting drinks at the pub tonight and quite honestly, I’d rather be doing that than grading philosophy papers,” you whine to him.

Fred mockingly places and hand over his heart and speaks, “First off, I am offended that you don’t want to spend time with me grading papers on the brilliance of Aristotle through a twenty year olds eyes.” The comment makes you chuckle, but he pushes on, “But I want to grade this papers tonight and finish them tonight so I, well we, can have the weekend free. You can get drinks any other night with the TAs. But we’ve got to do this tonight.”

You stomp your foot in frustration like a toddler, making Fred chuckle as he places his glasses on his face. “But tonight it’s dollar drafts! Dollar drafts happen once a week!” you beg him. “Why can’t we grade tomorrow?”

“Because I need to put these grades into my grade book before the students start wondering if they’ll ever be graded for something in this class,” he explains. “How about this?” he proposes. “We meet back here at 4:30pm. I’ll get take out for the both of us and we can drink coffee and energy drinks like we’re back in undergrad cramming for an exam. It’ll be fun,” he shimmies his shoulder making you giggle. 

With a huff, you say, “Fine. But if we’re here past midnight, I’ll never forgive you.” 

You start out of the classroom as Fred calls after you, “It’ll be fun!”

Shaking your head down, you start down the hall and see Harry and Luna talking as they leave their respective classrooms. “Heyo,” Harry calls out to you before slinging an arm around your shoulder. “So, for dollar drafts tonight we were just gonna take a cab there at around 5:00. Ron is going to be late because he’s going to wait for Hermione to get out of her night class and they’ll come together. But Seamus, Luna, Cho, and I will all be there and I think Dean said he’s coming and bringing some friends from grad school. It should be a great time,” Harry explains with a big grin.

Your ‘fomo’ was kicking in hard core as you sigh and speak, “About that...I can’t make it tonight.” Luna gives you a sad look as Harry groans and throws his head back. “Fred and I need to grade papers tonight to make the first quarter grades. If I get out early though, I’ll call and see if you guys are still there,” you offer as Harry slumps over. 

“At least it sounds like things are going better with you and Fred,” Luna tells you and you nod with a smile. “Are you learning from him?”

“Absolutely,” you tell her. “Fred is actually a great professor and the class adores him. I’ve been enjoying it a lot recently.”

Harry wiggles his eyebrows, “Yeah, I’m sure you have.”

You slap Harry’s shoulder at his cheeky suggestion that something was going on. “Oh, quit it, Harry,” you say through gritted teeth. “Fred and I have a strictly working relationship. He and I are co-workers and are professional. All of my relationships are here. That’s more that some people can say,” you tease him about his engagement to Ginny as he rolls his eyes and mimics you. “Besides, there is nothing romantic or sexy about grading papers about ethics. In fact, it’s the opposite thing.”

Harry laughs, “You never know. Maybe you two will get so caught up in talking about morals that you just start to...” he mimics the sounds of sloppy snogging and moaning as you slap his arm again, Luna giggling. “Okay, okay, I’m just teasing you! But if you can meet us at the pub, give one of us a call and we can hail you a cab,” he tells you as you hug Luna goodbye and then Harry.

“Will do. Have a drink for me. Lord knows I’ll need one,” you huff, watching them walk off to catch up to Dean and Seamus. 

Instead of getting drunk at a bar after a long week of work, you would be grading papers all night with Fred. Which honestly, maybe, didn’t sound so awful.

A few hours past and you and Fred were at on opposite sides of his desk, empty Chinese take out boxes scattered around you along with empty coffee cups and cans of energy drinks. It was ten o’clock at night and you had hardly made a dent in the papers. You throw your head on the desk with a thud, making Fred chuckle. “This is hell,” you groan. “Do they even proof read their sentences?” you ask Fred who shakes his head. “Seriously. Some of these papers are just bad. Weak thesis and an even weaker argument,” you slap the paper in front of you.

Fred scribbles in red ink on one paper and circle the letter grade on it before shifting it to the done pile. “Honestly, if it’s horrid and you struggle to make it past the third page, just skip to the end, read the conclusion and if it reads fine, give them a C minus. If they have a problem, they can come to office hours and talk about it with me,” he tells you as you laugh. “I’ve done that with two of them already.”

You place a C minus in red ink at the end of the paper and shift yours into the done pile. “How many more do we have left? We’ve been here for nearly six hours,” you tell him.

Fred examines the pile and huffs, “About four more. So two more each and then we’ll be done. The papers are ten pages long, so only twenty more pages of absolute garbage to read before we are done.”

Eh, that wasn’t so bad. You sigh and examine the room around you. Your eyes land on Fred whose eyes scan over the page as he nibbles away at his lower lip, glasses resting low on the bridge of his nose, red pen tucked behind his ear. He made markings on the paper here and there, adding comments as he sees fit. He’d mumble a bloody hell here and there if something was really bad, making you giggle. He’d catch your eye and a proud smile would form on his lips when he saw that he’d made you giggle.

After another hour and a half of grading, you were finally finished with the thick stack of papers on Fred’s desk. The two of you let out a sigh of relief as you leaned back in your chairs. “Freedom!” Fred cried out as you laughed, running your fingers through your hair. “And before midnight!” he points to his watch, the hands pointing to 11:37pm. “I think I know what this calls for,” he speaks wiggling his brows as you watch him stand up and pulls out a drawer to reveal a small handle of whiskey. 

You laugh and shake your head. “Ohhhh, no,” you laugh and wave your hands. 

“Really, (Y/N)? Eight hours of grading papers and you don’t want one drink?” he pours one glass, waiting to pour yours.

You think for a moment. You were supposed to call Harry and Luna and tell them that you would meet them at the bar. But quite honestly, you didn’t feel like leaving the classroom and the pleasant company of Fred. Maybe some one on one time could strengthen your relationship...as co-workers, of course.

In defeat, you sigh, “Fine.” 

Fred smiles and pours you a nice, hefty glass of the brown liquor before handing it to you and sitting in his chair. “To a job well done,” he toasts as you clink your glasses together, sipping from the glass. The whiskey is smooth and warms your chest up delightfully as you relax further into the chair. The two of you rest in comfortable silence before Fred starts, “So...after you’ve finished your job here, where do you hope to go?” 

You think for a moment and lean on your elbows on his desk, letting your hair flop forward. “Not too sure really,” you admit. “I know I want to teach at a university level, but it’s just a matter of where positions are available. Maybe I’ll go back to Oxford and see if there’s any availability in their department,” you toss around as Fred boos you, knowing the rivalry between Cambridge and Oxford is still fierce. “But I’m trying to go with the flow and see where the demand is.”

Fred nods his head and huffs, “Well...what if I told you that there is going to be an opening in position here at Hogwarts for next fall?” You give him a confused look as you sip from your whiskey. He says, “Professor McGonagall? She’s been here for ages and she’s retiring after nearly sixty years of teaching.” You widen your eyes and nod your head. Impressive. “The department is looking to hire a new, fresh face and I think you might be right for the job...” he takes a sneaky sip from his glass.

“It’s a really kind offer, Fred, really thoughtful of you,” you tell him. “But I want to know that where I apply for a job I’ve earned it. I didn’t get the job because someone pulled the strings behind the scenes,” you tell him. This was true. Anyone would kill for a job at Hogwarts University, but you wanted to know that you earned your title here and not because a friend handed it to you. 

He leans forward and speaks, “This wouldn’t be me pulling any strings. (Y/N), you are a brilliant person and the students adore you. Just last week four students asked for your contact information to reach out about private tutoring. Neville loves you and the department sees the work that you’ve been doing and is throughly impressed. You’ve earned this position and the respect that comes along with it,” he tells you, honestly shining in his eyes, making you melt in your chair at his gaze. You feel heat rising to your cheeks as you look away from him, sipping from your glass. The sight makes Fred’s heart skip a beat. 

“Are you saying I’ve earned your respect?” you ask him with a teasing smile as he chuckles.

“Yes. You earned it awhile ago. You’re an incredible woman,” he tells you as you smile, looking down at the glass in your hands, too meek to meet Fred’s gaze now. 

It’s quiet for a moment before Fred clears his throat and stands up, turning on the speaker as Frank Sinatra softly starts playing again as you laugh to yourself. It Happened In Monterey starts to echo in the classroom as you smile at Fred. “One of my favorites,” you tell him.

Fred nods, “One of his best hits,” he says as if it were a fact. “Give me your top three. Go.”

You think for a moment before speaking, “It Happened In Monterey, The Way You Look Tonight, and Girl From Ipanema. I think those are his best.”

Fred smiles, “Agreed. His version of The Way You Look Tonight I prefer much over Tony Bennett’s.”

“Oh, easily! Don’t get me wrong, Tony Bennett has some great hits, but he doesn’t hold a candle to Frankie,” you tell Fred, making him chuckle. The two of you chat about music for a little while longer before Come Fly With Me comes on and Fred claps his hands. “My mom loves this song,” you smile, fondly remembering her singing in the kitchen to this song.

Fred rises to his feet and immediately grabs your hands and brings you to his feet. He places your drinks down on the desk as he spins you around, making you laugh. “You can’t not dance to this song,” he tells you, placing his hand on your waist, the other holding your other hand in his larger one. The contact makes your heart flutter in your chest as you giggle as he spins you around again, this time into his chest. 

Your back is pressed against him as he sway with you in his arms before spin you back out, dancing around and around the classroom, the two of you laughing messes as you dance to Frank Sinatra, still in your work clothes from this morning. As you dance, you steal glances of Fred. How his hair was messy from running his fingers through it, his tie loose around his neck, impressions of his glasses in the bridge of his nose. He was so effortlessly handsome and it made your stomach sway at the sight of him. How he could be so handsome without even realizing it. Without even realizing how he made you feel. All warm and fuzzy inside, giggling like a child as he spun you around in his arms, making this moment feel like something out of a movie. 

The song slowly fades away before Autumn in New York starts play, changing the tone of the room. You two catch your breaths before looking at each other in the eyes, Fred’s hands on your waist as your hands rest on his chest. The two of you look at each other, and slowly start to sway as the orchestra of the song starts to swell. Frank’s clear voice echos in the empty classroom as you slowly wrap your arms around Fred’s neck, him pulling you close to his body as you start to slow dance in the middle of the classroom, neither of you registering what is happening. You two were purely acting on instinct. But god, it felt so right.

The two of you dance gently to the music as Fred’s hands rest on your lower back, his thumbs tracing small circles into your jumper as you lace your fingers around his neck. No words are spoken. You just listen to the music and stare at the other, taking each other in during the dance. How could something that started off so innocent turn so beautiful? 

Your mind was reeling, watching Fred look at you like you were the most precious thing in the world. You wanted to tell him everything that’s ever happened to you in this moment. Everything that you’ve gone through that brought you to this moment. Something about Fred made you feel safe. Something you hadn’t felt in years. 

As the music starts to come to a close, you can feel Fred lean down gently and press his forehead to yours as you inhale a shaky breath. So desperately you wished to close the gap between you two, pushing your lips together, giving into him. But before anything can happen, the horns blare over the speaker, Brazil blasting over the speakers, making the two of you jump, startled at the change in pace. 

You place a hand over your heart as Fred races over to the speaker to lower the volume. “That scared the living hell out of me,” you breathe out as Fred laughs and nods. The two of you stand there, wondering what to say, knowing that you were both thinking the same thing. But no one says anything. “Um,” you clear your throat. “It’s quite late. I should probably get going...” you trail off as you walk over to grab your purse and notebooks.

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” he tells you with a nod, cleaning up the mess of take away boxes on his desk. “You need me to call you a cab?” he asks.

“No, no, it’s fine, I got it,” you tell him with a smile as he nods, throwing out the garbage and sorting away miscellaneous papers. “Um, I, um...”

“I had fun with you,” Fred finishes your sentence for you as you exhale and smile gently with a nod. “I’ll see you on Monday then?”

You nod your head, “Absolutely, yeah.” He grins and digs his hands into his pockets.

You start to make your way towards the door, but Fred stops you and says, “Hey, (Y/N)? On Monday, I’d like you to run the lecture. For both classes.” Your eyes widen as you look at him in disbelief. You try to protest, but Fred speaks, “I think that the class would benefit from your perspective. And your sheer brilliance.” 

A small smile forms on your lips as you let out a breathy laugh. “Wow. Okay. Yeah. For sure,” you tell him with a nod as Fred smiles. “Thank you, Fred. This is...wow. Thank you.”

“No need to thank me,” he tells you. “You’ve earned it. You’ve earned it all. Now, get going and get a goodnight’s rest. That you surely deserve.”

And with one small wave, you exit the classroom and start down the hall, feeling like you were on cloud nine. Nothing felt as good as this.

------

Monday rolls around as quickly as Friday left and you enter campus with a pep in your step. Today you were teaching the class and you were beyond prepared. You had your lesson plan in your bag, a coffee in your hand, and your favorite jumper on. You felt invincible. 

As you walked into the staff lounge, Harry sat with Seamus, sipping on coffees and munching on provided breakfast. “Morning, you lot,” you chime merrily as you place your bag on the table and walk towards the breakfast tray and grab a crossiant.

“You’re too cheery for a Monday morning,” Seamus says with a look on his face. “What’s got you so bright eyes and bushy tailed?”

You smile to yourself as you walk back to the table, tearing open the croissant to slab some jam on it. “Fred is letting me run lecture today,” you reply happily.

Seamus looks over to Harry with wide eyes, the two of them in complete shock. “Wow,” Seamus says. “That’s...incredible. Good on you, (Y/N),” he tells you as you thank him with a smile. “I didn’t know Fred let his TA run a class. The most he let Dean do was take roll,” he told Harry.

Harry took a sip from his coffee and wiggled his brows, “I didn’t think so either. I guess our very own (Y/N) has made him have a change of heart.”

You roll your eyes and speak, “I earned this, Harry. I’ve been working my ass off and after a long night of grading papers, Fred offered me the opportunity which I gladly took.” Harry nods his head with a mhm as you throw as piece of croissant at him. “I’m serious!”

“I’m not saying you don’t deserve it, (Y/N)! You’re one of the smartest people I’ve ever met; you deserve this like humans needs to breathe!” Harry exclaims. “I’m just...shocked that Fred let you make a lesson plan, nevertheless teach a whole class,” he speaks as you shrug. “Guess you bring out the best in Fred Weasley.”

You smile, “Is that such a bad thing?” Harry chuckles as Seamus shakes his head with a huff. “Well, if you excuse me, I have to get ready for my lecture,” you joke as Harry rolls his eyes.

“Don’t let this thing get to your head!” he calls after you as you flip him the bird, making Seamus laugh.

As you walk to 523, your heart patter against your chest with excitement, but also lots of nerves. What if they preferred Fred over you? What if Fred was more engaging with them? What if someone fell asleep? What if someone asked you a question you couldn’t answer?

Soon your confidence began to waver as you entered the classroom, Fred clearing the chalkboard, getting the room ready for you. “There she is. Professor for the day,” Fred claps his hands. “You excited?” he asks. But you don’t answer him. You nervously place your purse on the desk and start gnawing at your nails. This makes Fred worried as he walks over to you and places his hands on your shoulders. “You alright?” he asks, concern washing over his face.

You relax into his touch as you sigh, “Yeah, I’m okay. I’m just...nervous.” Fred gives you a sympathetic smile. “What if they like you better than me? What if I say something stupid and they all laugh at me? What if I forget everything? I mean, how much do I really know about Mill? Probably nothing,” you ramble.

Fred laughs and gives you arms a squeeze, forcing your eyes up to him. “Hey, look at me,” he speaks as you huff and look into his comforting gaze. “Everything is going to be just fine. You are brilliant and the students love you. You’re gonna get up there and smash it. I know it,” he tells you with a confident smile, making your heart flutter and your stomach flip. “I was nervous for my first lecture too, but once you start, the adrenaline gets pumping and you feel on top of the world.”

You give him a shaky nod, “Yeah. Okay. I can do this, yeah?”

“Absolutely,” he laughs. “You’re more than capable,” he reassures you. “I believe in you. I always have,” he speaks, tilting your chin up with his fore finger as you gulp thickly. Fred’s eyes dart to your lips back up to your eyes as he smiles softly. “You’ll be brilliant.”

“Thank you,” you speak just above a whisper as Fred nods.

Slowly, he pulls away from you and sits at his desk which prompts the first student to enter the classroom as you gather your notebook and a piece of chalk, writing on the board in bold letters, Mill and Utilitarianism. You wipe your hands on your pants and look over to Fred who gives you a thumbs up.

Soon enough, the classroom fills up with students as you try to keep yourself calm and not let the class see your nerves. “Happy Monday, everyone,” Fred speaks from his desk. “I hope you all had a great weekend. Your papers on Aristotle have been graded and the grades are posted online. Some of you did great, some of you did shit. If you have any complaints, you can see me or (Y/N) after class to discuss,” he speaks, earning a few laughs from the class. Fred speaks, “Brian, I wouldn’t laugh if I were you. (Y/N) couldn’t make it past page three of yours before handing it off to me.” This earns a loud roar of laughter from the class which eased your nerves. God, Fred knew exactly what you needed. “Speaking of (Y/N), she will be running lecture today. I’ll be playing the role of TA and you’ll give her the same amount of respect like you give me. Understood?” The class nods. “Brilliant. (Y/N), you have the floor.”

You smile at him, “Thank you, Fred, for the introduction.” Fred nods. You turn to the class. “Alright. Let’s talk about Mill’s Utilitarianism. After reading it, what are our thoughts? How do we feel about Mill in comparison to Kant or Aristotle?” you ask generally trying to ease into the lecture.

The class is motionless for a moment before Jessica raises her hand and you nod. “I found it interesting how he acknowledges the objections in his work,” she tells you as you nod. “Not many philosopher’s explicitly do that in their works.”

“Great,” you smile at her. “Let’s take a look at that. Everyone open up your copies and turn to page seven. Mill writes, ‘Life has no higher purpose than pleasure? What are we, swine?’ What do you think this means?” you ask the class. The stare blankly at you as you inhale deeply, this being a fear of yours. But before you can allow yourself to freak out, you think about what Fred would do. You repeat the quote again and add this time, “Are we swines? I mean, I don’t know about Brian, but I know that I’m not a swine.”

This causes the class to erupt with laughter, Fred included, and Brian blushes a deep shade of red before he raises his hand to answer the question. Ah, victory. 

The class continues on and the discussion was incredible with both classes you taught. The students had such provoking conversations with fruitful discussions on the topic. It made your heart swell that they were so good for you and you felt like you were in your element the whole time.

Fred couldn’t help but smile to himself as he watched you give the lecture, bouncing off points, connecting ideas, and posing new questions that he couldn’t even think of. You were electric and the students were infatuated with you, even more so than they were with him. He couldn’t help but feel proud of you. He loved watching you smile and laugh as you talked to the students. 

“Okay, well unfortunately we are at time, but next week bring in your annotated books along with your first drafts of your papers!” you tell the class as they thank you as they leave the class one by one. 

After each student has left the classroom and the door shuts, you turn to Fred who springs from his chair and runs over to you, scooping you up in a hug and spinning you around as you laugh. “Sheer brilliance,” he places you down with a beaming smile. “I’ve never seen students so excited to talk about moral philosophy,” he shakes his head as you grin widely, holding your hands behind your back. “That was great, (Y/N).”

“I feel great,” you tell him with a smile. “Seriously. It blows my mind how smart they are sometimes. Bloody Brian had such great talking points today!” you beam as Fred laughs. “But really, I learned everything that I did today from you. You are the great teacher,” you tell him, nudging his shoulder playfully.

Fred rolls his eyes, “Oh, don’t give me all the credit. I mean...give me some, but not all.” You laugh and shake your head. “Kidding, kidding,” he tells you as you smile at him, taking in the way his face looked as the sun started to set behind him, signaling the end of your day. “Um, I’ll walk with you to the lot?”

You nod your head as the two of you pack your things and make your way to the parking lot with Fred, the both of you making light chatter about the class discussions and how thought provoking they all were. As you walk in the halls, you pass Harry who calls out, “I’m guessing it went well!”

“Shut it, Potter!” you call back as Fred chuckles. 

Soon enough, you reach the staff parking lot and Fred digs around in his pockets for the key to his car. “Well,” Fred huffs. “You did a great job today, (Y/N). I would say I’m impressed, but I knew you would do brilliantly.”

You beam, “Thank you, Fred. Really. I know how much this class means to you and I thank you for trusting me with it.”

He smiles and leans against the hood of his black Audi, pushing his sleeves up to his elbows before leaning on his hands. “It’s my pleasure. I know how much teaching a class meant to you and I’m happy I could help,” he tells you as you nod. 

The two of you stand there, watching each other as the sun sets behind the castle. Fred’s eyes glossed over your body and how pants hugged your curves and how the jumper clung onto your figure. He took a deep breath in before smiling to himself as you gulped and cleared your throat, trying to diffuse some of the tension between the two of you. “I’ll, uh, see you tomorrow, Professor,” you tease Fred as he chuckles. 

You start to walk away and towards the bus stop, but Fred’s voice stops you. “(Y/N)?” he speaks as you turn back to him, walking back to him. “I’ve got a quick question for you.”

“What’s up?”

“So, Mill said ‘There's no time for all this calculating when we're faced with an actual moral decision.’ And I’m afraid that I have a moral decision of my own,” he speaks with a smirk as you heart races at the sight of the smile you’ve grown so fond of over the past few weeks.

You smile at your feet before looking up at him. “And what would that moral decision be, Professor Weasley?” you tease him as he chuckles.

“That night, we spent grading papers,” he starts as you tuck your hands into your back pockets. “I wanted to kiss you.” His confession makes your heart race as face heat up. “And ever since then, I’ve been trying to find a moment where I can finally suck it up and kiss you,” he smirks. “So, what I guess what I’m trying to say is, is it alright if I kiss my teaching assistant in the parking lot of this bloody school?”

You lightly laugh and speak, taking a step closer to him as he snakes an arm around your waist, pulling you close as you place your hands on his chest, “Well, if we are talking about this in the terms of Mill, would kissing your teaching assistant bring you pleasure?”

Fred smiles, “Without a doubt.”

“Then I think you’re morally obligated to,” you tell him as he chuckles.

He hesitates no longer and dips his head down to connect your lips together as you inhale deeply, wrapping your arms around his neck. His lips are soft, but passionate against you as they gently move against yours. His hands squeeze your hips gently as you press yourself against his body, making Fred lightly moan into your mouth. His tongue slips past your parted lips, caressing his tongue with yours as you let out a soft moan, making Fred inhale deeply. Your heart is pounding against your chest as you gently pull at the roots of his hair, relishing in the way his lips feel against yours. His mouth moves slowly and lazily against yours, making your head spin and desire grow. It’s everything you imagined it would be as cliche as it sounded. 

Gently, you pull away as Fred smiles lightly. “Thank you, John Stuart Mill,” he breathes out, making you laugh. “I’ve been dying to do that.”

“I’m glad you did,” you confess to him, arms still wrapped around him as Fred squeezes your hips, placing another soft kiss to your lips. “Now that you’ve accomplish that moral dilemma, do you have any idea what your next one is?” you tease him, wiggling your brows.

Fred shakes his head, “Oh, we’ve got the rest of the semester to figure that one out.”

[n0tamused]

Hellooo hon can i request pls? Can u write for tobirama a one shot where he rejects his s/o but then he sees her with another guy in the village often and starts to realize about hia feelings but its late bc she is marrying this other guy? I need some angst hahahah. Its ok if you don't want to write it! Thank you 😘

A/N: Hello anon, thank you for the request! Here's some Tobirama angst. It made me sad to write this but here we are. The things we do for angst. Hope you enjoy.

Warnings: none. Just pure sadness.

Words: Around 1.475

' The Fire Which Didn't Burn '

-"No. I do not love you."

Those words echoed in your mind days after his initial rejection. Over and over again until it was all you could think about. It stung your heart each time you repeated the sentence. The never ending feeling that it was something you did wrong wrecked your mind, it made work harder and rest scarce for a while. You didn't understand. You were sure he felt at least some semblance of love for you, in the end you were the one he truly did let in his company. One he could rely on for anything that he may need. Or did you read the signs that wrong? At that point it wouldn't be a surprise if it was all for business sake, seeing as you both worked together on making the village prosper and bloom.

But that was almost an whole year ago. Even more. Since then you have moved on from the heart ache. Although a few select close friends knew of your pain, you never indulged them with your gloomy moods that came and went. It was a tendency you seemed to pick up from the younger Senju and the years you spent at his side. Not letting anyone really in. Only letting them scratch the surface of it, to know enough to leave you be.

It has been a whole year since the last time Tobirama had spent proper time with you, a whole year since you both sat down to unwind and discuss things amicably. At the confession of your feelings for him he was rather cold, cooly brushing you off and trying to get back into his work. He didn't feel like it was such a big deal then, he believed that it didn't matter as long as you both still remained a good bond. But he was proven wrong. You recoiled from his reach and even disappeared from his sight. His ears seldomly heard of you anymore. It was as if you disappeared from the village all together. Even if he saw traces of your work, your signatures and reports. It was all superficial.

At first this didn't bother Tobirama much, even if he was initially worried about your lack of communication with him. The man was simply so drowned in his work to take some kind of action, to do anything to smooth things over with you again. On certain days, when work was lesser, he would indulge himself in things he did with you once. Only then feeling the effects, the weight on his shoulders due to your absence. There was no more of your reasoning voice, no more laughter, no more endless teasing when the two of you were alone, no more long nights where the two of you shared your worries and even fears. There was none of it. Only distant memories.

As stubborn as he was, he would finally come to terms that he, in the very least, missed you greatly. That he should've done something sooner. Now he felt embarrassed to even try after so long had already passed.

Tobirama had recently started to seek out information about you. Head full of things, horrible things. Were you alright now? Have you moved on?

As it turns out, yes you were alright and yes...you have moved on. You were still working as a ninja, so how you managed to keep out of his sight so much and for so long surprised the silver haired Senju. And when word reached him that you were getting married soon. He was...he didn't know how to feel, actually. You had found another man to love and share your burdens and future with. He had spotted the pair of you once in the village, walking peacefully side by side. Hand and fingers entwined together. You pressing into his side once to give him a quick hug. Him smiling down at you, a genuine, earnest smile which you reflected back just the same. It made Tobirama ill. A deep, gut wrenching feeling over took him so much that he wanted to bolt. As unlikely as that was for him.

Perhaps this was karma. You were his most trusted friend. You understood him at best and at worst times, and you dealt with him when he was being difficult. You were with him at his side even when his brother got fed up with his arrogance. The amount of times you sat at the stairs on his porch, waiting for him to cool off were countless; even your company alone was salve enough. And not to even mention your beauty, you were the rare one that really caught Tobirama's eye, like no other woman has before. And yet, he pushed you away. Perhaps this was his punishment. The maker gave him a chance, a chance to be happy and content and have someone with him and he let it fall and shatter to the floor. Tobirama could only scowl, and he found himself in a sour mood ever since.

He wouldn't admit it but his heart was aching. Was this how you too felt?

-"Tobirama!"

You exclaimed. Shock written all over your features, the basket of fruit, fish and vegetables hooked onto your elbow. Neither of you knew what to say at first. Tobirama was just as shocked as you, regretting not using his sensory abilities to sense you and turn in another direction. Now that you two ran into each other his tongue felt dry.

Your breath stopped in your throat as you searched his eyes, his face for anything that could indicate some sort of reaction. Yet the only thing you found in his scarlet gaze was yearning, and then emptiness once he collected his racing thoughts.

"Y/N. It.. it has been a while."

He spoke, clearing his throat while his heart felt as if it was going to burst out of his chest. The clothes he wore suddenly felt suffocating and scolding. A tangible tension grew between the two of you.

"Yes. It has been...How have you been doing? I surely hope you are getting some proper rest, I heard there was quite a scuffle recently."

Trying to keep the conversation average failed. A frown became prominent on his lips as he only nodded, in a almost mechanical fashion, but didn't respond to the question. You caught his gaze flickering, only for a second, down to your ring finger. Where the silver ring was. A small gem held on the top of it. And you understood, in a way.

"Oh..."

A wind breezed past the two of you, but it didn't feel comforting. It felt chilling and hot and dry all at the same time, like raking hands that clung to the both of you. If you were paying just a little more attention to the Senju, you would've seen the sadness collect in his eyes. Even if his face remained cold and unreadable. His eyes gave it all away.

The conversation ended rather awkwardly with both of you wishing each other well and saying your goodbyes. So many things were left unsaid then. It wouldn't take Tobirama long after that quick encounter to really admit it to himself that he has grown feelings for you, that he was in love. Realizing a year too late. A year he wished he could get back so he could be with you instead of that man. A year that could make it all better, for the both of you. But no matter how many sleepless nights he had, no matter how much he wished and even prayed, he couldn't take your happiness away. He couldn't even dare do such a thing, couldn't dream of it.

Sometimes you would even worm your way in his dreams, his mind visualizing a future he knew he couldn't have. A happy one with you at his side, in a house different from the one he was in now, with enough space for the both of you and even another addition. No matter how much he dreaded those dreams, he let himself drown in the comforts of them even if for a moment. Letting himself experience what could have been. The phantom touches and plush kisses that soon turned to dust in his mouth when he woke. The image of you still dancing vividly in front of his sleep hazed eyes.

Other times he even found himself crying in those dreams, angry, bitter and regretful tears. Clinging onto you in his dreams, pleading to not wake up yet to make it all better. It pained him. That he couldn't have you anymore. You were now married to someone, and that someone wasn't him.

Tobirama saw how happy you were, genuinely. And he wasn't going to take it away just because of his own mistakes.

Now it was his turn to share the pain you went through. He accepted it all. It was now his responsibility. His mistakes.

[misteria247]

Night Raven College was a lot different from what you'd remembered. Then again after six years of not seeing it, it was bound to change in some way. While the buildings remained the same it was quite clear that the Ramshackle Dorm had changed. Following closely behind Grimm with Elliott trailing behind you, you couldn't help but stare at your old dorm in awe. The once somewhat decrypted building was now somewhat restored, the grass area was kept clean and the garden by the graveyard in the back was in full bloom. As you looked at your old home in stunned silence, your beloved son Elliott peeked his face from behind you to get a better look. His bright green eyes seemed to sparkle as they landed on the graveyard and with it it's massive gargoyles that sat on display.

"What is this place mama.....?"

Elliott asked his tone curious and full of wonder. Grimm was the one who answered his question.

"This is Ramshackle, me and your mom's old dorm. Back in the day she was my minion, helping me become the greatest mage within our school!"

Grimm said with a large smirk. You rolled your eyes at the feline's words but didn't bother to correct him. Elliott's eyes seemed to widen even more, making your heart twist slightly as the expression made him look so much more like his father. Even though he had your luscious (H/C) locks, everything else was completely his father's. Grimm seemed to do a double take at Elliott his ears flickering.

"Wow.....he really does look like him doesn't he?"

Grimm asked sounding slightly dazed. You gave him a small smile feeling a sense of pride hit you.

"He definitely has his looks doesn't he?"

You mused much to your son's confusion. Grimm just gave you a small look and led the two of you into the dormitory. As soon as you stepped inside you were ambushed, three familiar ghostly figures coming at you, Grimm and Elliott. Your son let out a startled shout as he clung to you while you jumped before smiling brightly.

"Is that anyway to greet me?"

You asked somewhat teasingly. The ghosts froze before their faces broke out into large grins.

"(Y/N)!!"

They cried in joy quickly surrounding you to welcome you back. Elliott clung to you tightly obviously uneasy and you were quick to break it up. Three confused faces glanced at you before catching sight of your little one. Bringing Elliott gently in front of you, you gave them a smile.

"This is my son Elliott. Elliott these are the ghosts that me and Grimm roomed with while I stayed here."

You introduced them. Elliott shyly clung to your hand feeling suddenly put on display. The ghosts took a good look at your child their eyes widening.

"He looks like your one friend!"

The first ghost exclaimed in shock.

"Is he....?"

The second one asked tilting his head towards you. You gave him a nod to confirm his question and were met with startled looks. Before anymore questions could be asked Grimm stepped in.

"Speaking of Elliott, would you three keep an eye on him? I need to speak to my minion here."

Grimm said his tone surprisingly mature sounding. The ghosts were quick to agree and with an encouraging push from you for Elliott along with a thinly veiled threat to your old roommates regarding your son's safety, the trio left dragging Elliott along with them to show him around the Ramshackle Dorm. Once you were completely alone Grimm all but turned to you his gaze serious.

"(Y/N) how are you going to keep him a secret?? Just from one look alone anyone can tell that he's Tsunotarou's!"

The monster feline exclaimed startling you slightly. You couldn't help but feel a sudden sinking feeling hit you. You knew that in reality it wasn't possible to keep Elliott's existence a secret like you'd wanted to. It was nearly impossible to given that much like his father, Elliott had a tendency to disappear and explore different places. Anyone in Twisted Wonderland could see him and quickly connect the dots of who exactly his biological father was, given how famous Malleus was in this world what with him being the literal king of the Valley of Thorns. But the illogical side of you wanted to try. You wanted to keep Elliott's existence quiet, you wanted to keep him safe from the possible dangers that he could face should he be discovered. Not only that but you were afraid.

You had no idea how Malleus would react to the knowledge of having a son. While in your heart you wanted to believe that he'd love Elliott you knew that logically it might not be the case as much as the thought crushed you. What would he even say? Would he even accept Elliott as his son? What would those of his kingdom think? That their beloved king technically had a bastard child, who wasn't only part dragon fae but part human as well? What if......Malleus had already moved on? It'd been six years after all and a lot could happen in six years. For all you knew Malleus could already be married and have several children, having completely forgotten all about you and the feelings you both shared (the thought nearly made your heart shatter into pieces and your throat tighten). As if sensing your thoughts Grimm put a paw on your cheek. You blinked back the sudden sting in your eyes and sniffled.

"I.....I know I can't keep him a secret but Grimm it's.....it's been six years. What me and Malleus had.....is probably long gone. I can't just barge back into his life and tell him. It wouldn't be fair to him....."

You said sounding somewhat desperate. Grimm gave you a small saddened look before turning away, biting his lip.

"Well.....you may have to....and rather soon....."

Grimm said trailing off. You stiffened slightly at his tone, the sinking feeling you'd been feeling getting bigger.

"Grimm......what do you mean soon....?"

You asked nervous and slightly on edge. Your companion gave you a somewhat guilt filled expression.

"Well there's a reason why I'm here......the Headmaster Crowley has invited everyone from our old classes back for a reunion. So......Tsunotarou might be here sometime soon....."

Grimm mumbled ears flickering nervously. You on the other hand had seemed to stop functioning, barely able to process what Grimm just revealed to you.

'Malleus was coming back......Malleus was going to be here......he's going to see Elliott.....!'

The thought made you snap out of your terrified stupor and with an almost panicky response you grabbed Grimm and shook him slightly.

"Why didn't you say anything sooner?!?! For hell's sake Grimm!!! I've got to get Elliott and we need to leave now-!"

You were cut off mid panicked rambling by one of the ghosts.

"(Y/N)!!! We're so sorry!!! We only turned around for a moment-!!!"

The ghost exclaimed sounding extremely upset. You turned towards him, the world seemingly tilting as you realized that Elliott wasn't with them.

"Where's Elliott....?!? Where's my son?!?"

You asked fear creeping into your voice. The ghost flinched guilty before finally answering your question.

"We....we lost him."

That one sentence threw your world into chaos.

~~~~~

Being a magical being had it's perks, especially when you wanted to go off and explore. For Elliott it'd been an easy task for the six year old. Now said child was currently walking around what was considered a courtyard, taking in the sights and sounds. Despite being nervous and on edge from this whole endeavor, the fae child couldn't help but want to explore the place. It was rather large and vast and had many things a young boy his age wanted to see. Walking past the fountain he caught a glimpse of a pathway that was lined with statues. Curious he changed his course to explore the pathway, taking in the strange statues that decorated the trail. The first statute was that of a woman. Her stature was short and somewhat stout, a large, strange dress covered her. The gown was covered in hearts and in her hand was a small wand with the same pattern. A strange dark spot covered one of its corners, almost as if it'd been burned at one point. The second statute was that of a lion, its fangs pulled up into a sinister grin and a lone eye was covered in a jagged scar.

The third statute was that of a woman whose lower half was of that of an octopus, a piece of paper held in her grip. The fourth statue was a man dressed in robes and a turban, a staff shaped in the likeness of a snake held in his boney grip. The fifth statute was of a beautiful woman who carried an apple in her hand. The sixth was of a man covered in robes and flames, a sharp toothed smile on his boney face. The last one was of that of a woman, a large staff held in her grasp. A long robe like gown covered her but there was something else about her that made Elliott stop in his tracks to look at her. With wide shocked eyes Elliott sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of her head.

Horns.

She had horns, just like him. Without thinking about it Elliott removed his bangs from his face, revealing the small horns that grew from his forehead. Touching them he looked at the statue, a sudden feeling of confusion and awe hitting him. Elliott wasn't the only one who had horns. There was someone out there who had them too. It blew his mind, questions racing about in his head.

Was there anymore like her? What was she? Was she someone his mother knew? Did......did his father know her?

Elliott didn't know much about his father. His mother rarely talked about him, getting upset whenever the subject was brought up. All Elliott knew about his mysterious father was that he was someone who his mama loved more than anything in the world and that he could use magic just like him. Everything else was a mystery for the small child. Elliott felt his heart sink as he recalled all the nights he'd hear his mother's quiet sobs when she'd thought he was asleep. The lingering sorrow that always seemed to surround her no matter how hard she tried to hide it from him.

'And now mama's gonna be even more upset because you brought her back here. You don't even know if your papa is even here.'

The nasty thought made his chest hurt. He'd only wanted to make her smile, and while she'd been smiling quite a bit since they'd gotten here, his mother had also looked uneasy. Like she was expecting something bad to happen. Seeing his mother like that made him want to protect her even more, especially from this mysterious Tsunotarou the cat Grimm had mentioned. Getting lost in his thoughts the child hadn't noticed the sudden shadow that covered his form until a voice spoke up.

"Oi what's a kid doing here??"

The voice made him jump, the boy whirling around to see who had spoken. Having moved so fast he'd accidentally tripped over his own two feet causing him to fall into the statue and scrape his elbow against it. Pain shot through it and the scent of copper filled his nose. Elliott felt himself start to tear up and before he knew it he'd begun to sniffle. The owner of the voice, a young man quickly grew panicked at the sudden tears.

"O-oi! Are you alright?! I'm sorry I didn't mean to scare you!"

He said panicked as he bent down to help Elliott up. As he reached out to grab him Elliott took notice of the man through his tears. The man looked to be at least a few years younger than his mother, large reddish brown eyes gazed at him with concern and guilt. Over one of his eyes was a heart that decorated his cheek, and his head was covered in unruly red hair. Elliott let out a loud hiccup as he tried to get his crying down, however given the stress and sudden injury he'd received it was rather difficult to. The man meanwhile watched him, uncomfortable and lost when another voice called out.

"Oi Ace! What are you doing-is that a kid!?! What did you do to him???!!"

The second man asked sounding instantly protective and scolding. The first man Ace sent a panicked look at the other man gesturing towards Elliott in an lost manner.

"I didn't mean to! I startled him and he got hurt and I have no idea what to do!"

Ace said panicked. The second man let out an exasperated sigh and with a practiced ease took over for Ace.

"It's okay little guy, we're not going to hurt you. My name is Deuce. Deuce Spades and this is Ace Trappola."

The man Deuce introduced himself. Elliott sniffled gazing at him before muttering back in a shaky manner.

"Elliott.....my name is Elliott."

Elliott said. Deuce gave him a small smile, helping him up the rest of the way to his feet.

"Elliott that's a cool name. Tell me Elliott are you lost? Do you know where your parents are?"

Deuce asked somewhat concerned. Elliott froze when he realized that he was indeed lost making him get upset again. At the small cry Deuce gave him a small hug, picking him up and holding him close.

"Hey, hey it's okay! No need to cry! It'll be alright we'll help you find your parents okay?"

Deuce said soothingly. Ace gave him a baffled look.

"We will???"

Ace asked only to be met with a dark teal gaze. Realizing that Deuce was serious he bit back his groan of frustration.

"Yes we will. Elliott do you know the name of your parents? Maybe me and Ace can help you find them quicker."

Deuce asked rubbing his back. Elliott gave a rattling breath and nodded.

"I.....I know my mama's name....."

He said in a watery way.

"That's great! Can you tell me her name?"

Deuce asked. The duo listened carefully as Elliott pulled himself together somewhat, unaware of the chaos that they'd be met with.

"Her name is (Y/N)."

*I know I'm supposed to be on hiatus but after doing the Thirteenth chapter for the Princess and her Dragon I was struck with inspiration for our lovely little family of two. I can't help but treasure my twst children sgdgdgdgg. Anyways sorry it's so short and crummy, but I hope it'll bring y'all some entertainment!! Anyways if any y'all read this I hope you enjoyed it!!!! Now back to my hiatus. But first!!! Tagging list!!!! @genshin-idiot @ditsy-anime-thot @ctannth @reaperfeels.*

[alonfic]

second nature

pairing: kuroo tetsurou x reader genre: college + bff to lovers au | fluff, pining pining pining wc: 4,767 description: love is complicated; it tends to bloom in desire, in impulse. sometimes you just need to stop the overthinking and just do. in other words, you’re hopelessly in love with your best friend and decide to take matters into your own hands. author’s note: completely self-indulgent. i just wanted a scene where mc jumps into kuroo’s arms and kisses him after a win. sue me.

People do stupid things when they’re in love. You don’t know who said it, if this is some universal conclusion, or maybe Hercules’s Megara is a love genius who you should take notes from. Then again, she did twice, and was saved by her destined lover the second time around. You aren’t all that sure this is a fate prescribed to you by the stars nor is it one that you want for yourself, but it makes you wonder if your love life would be easier if it could have that Disney-esque theatrics just for a happy ending.

Then again, you don’t think Disney has any love stories about best friends turning into lovers, just strangers to lovers. But how do you fall in love with someone you haven’t spent years together cultivating memories with? How do you not look back and smile at the stories of chasing fireflies in the summertime or running from the ocean’s kiss because it’s just a tad too cold even in the late spring? Could it be possible to imagine a love built out of the blue?

Perhaps that part of unexpectedness could be the suspect. Being around him is comfortable; easy as breathing. He’s always been there, always a faint image in the back of your mind as you walk down memory lane, and still there as you walk down this strange path of adulthood. He’s never one to push too hard or let you fall without reaching a hand out to hold you steady.

In truth, you don’t think about loving your best friend. At least you try not to at first. It isn’t something you’re supposed to do or anything that could proceed painlessly, and you’re no masochist. Maybe you are. Wouldn’t you have extracted yourself from the situation sooner if you weren’t?

Then again, you didn’t choose to love him one morning, it just happened.

/

You consider ignoring Kuroo when it happens. Or if there’s any chance of going back.

It isn’t anything against him because you obviously wouldn’t feel the way that you do if you considered him a shitty person. But that’s the problem. Well, not the problem, more like the reason. The heart of your pining has always been a consistent figure. A loving one that has always had your back even when you both were kids; him the notoriously shy boy who clung to his father’s leg when you and your mother first stopped by, and you the painfully hard-headed one who lacked control when you came bounding up to him with the intent of friendship.

Funny how things seem to take on a reverse effect as he approaches you in the same confidence. His smile unaltered by the slight changes in you, how you tense up ever-so-slightly and squeak affirmations when he mentions going out later that night as a treat for surviving midterms. It shouldn’t mean anything more, really, these are normal interactions for you both. The small celebrations are your favorite things to do, so you hope it doesn’t feel weird when you say yes and he looks at you like he’s over the moon kind of happy.

You don’t say a word when his hand is on the small of your back in the slightly crowded ramen shop. It’s been a longtime favorite of your and his, and surviving the quarter is a celebration in and of itself. Everything is normal. These things, like guiding you to a table, are normal. Your hyperfixations on them are hardly normal though.

Was he always this touchy? Of course, you ponder this. It’s your brain wondering and hoping to figure out what the motivations of these actions are even if he’s done them before. He’s always been keen on physical touch with you. Ever the one to wrap an arm around your shoulders while you two walk around shopping centers or the park to keep potential intruders away and to keep you from getting swept up in the crowds. Sometimes holding your hand when things get tense and he wants you to know he’s there. They’re normal for him by all accounts, and there hasn’t been a time where any of that has felt out of place, at least until now. And it isn’t because of him, it’s you.

If you had an allowance to dream and believe in your idealistic side, this would be a new beginning and his way of easing you into intimate gestures. You don’t though. Your realistic side won’t let you. He just doesn’t make it very easy on you as he sits in front of you under very grainy incandescent lighting—the very non-ideal kind to consider one’s love for somebody—and still manages to get you feel the same things you had when you awoke to him cooking breakfast in your kitchen after a late night study session. The very stupid morning that brought you to this conclusion.

When he says your name, you realize the server is there. You’re naturally a little embarrassed because you haven’t even had a chance to glance at the menu, still a little more spaced out than usual, though it shouldn’t be that big of a problem. You already know what you want, and so does Kuroo. 

He jumps in and asks if you want your usual choice, to which you simply nod so he can tell the server who leaves just as quickly as they had come. Kuroo looks like he wants to say something, probably ask about what’s going on with you, but instead something else catches his eye.

He leans over the table and his fingertips find some stray locks of yours dangerously trying to kiss the corner of your lip. His fingertips graze your cheek rather slowly. Painfully slow, even. It doesn’t help the sweat on your palms or the pounding of your chest. Hell, your heart feels like it might fall out if he continues going at such a snail’s pace, but eventually he gets the strands behind your ear.

He smiles at you again, and this time you know it’s all over.

There is no going back.

/

“You’ve been ignoring me.”

You almost deny it altogether, almost. But this is Kuroo. You know better than to try and lie to the boy you’ve known since middle school, the same boy who knows when something’s wrong before you even have a chance to register that something’s wrong. It sometimes makes you want to curse at him and wish this whole thing would just come to a halt instead of continuing on this weird precipice of change. But you stop yourself and step aside so he can enter your apartment, making his way through the long hallway and turning right to take a perch on the barstool at your kitchen isle.

He’s right anyway. It’s been days since you realized your feelings and even more since you two went out to get ramen together. But you’d be damned to admit the truth.

“Been busy.” You settle on this because it’s a safe answer, at least relatively so, though he hardly looks even the slightest bit convinced. The fact that you lean on the opposite side of the granite countertop is enough to solidify his doubt, but you decide to play the fool anyway. “What?”

“Are you alright? Have I done something to upset you?” Kuroo asks this genuinely, and you can tell most definitively by the slight crease in his brow and the small line his lips have become. It isn’t a frown by any means, it’s his pensive expression. He must be trying to think back on anything he’s either said or done in the past couple of weeks, but you know he wouldn’t be able to guess it.

Not that “it” is all that major. How do you even describe the sensation of falling in love with your best friend? How do you even dare face them after you’ve done it? And where do you even go from there when it’s happened? These are the things you’ve mulled over; they’re also the things that have stopped you from immediately treating your friendship with Kuroo like business as usual. You don’t think there’s any going back once you say something. No matter the times you’ve imagined what could happen or what it would be like to cross that bridge, a bit of reality grounds you from all impulsive acts.

Of course, you would love to just kiss him and run your hands through his beautifully soft sable hair. You wouldn’t hesitate to finally tell him your feelings if you didn’t think there was anything to lose or if you weren’t in the right state of mind, at least there’s the cushion of not caring and simple selfishness in all of that. It takes a lot to shake it all out of your head, at least to just try to, as he watches you in that unnervingly analytical way.

“Are you sure I haven’t done anything?” You can tell he’s trying to probe now, perhaps hoping for an opening to atone for any misgiving he might’ve done without realizing. His voice is soft, comforting. “If I did, I really am sorry.”

You shake your head again, this time for him and his question. You’re starting to feel a little bad for keeping this from him. “You haven’t done anything, I promise. I’ve just been preoccupied with some things. It’s getting better, so really, no need to worry.”

You hope the half-truths are enough to keep his interrogative questions and inquisitorial stare at bay. At least enough to change the subject, he’s the one who called about coming here, after all.

“If you’re sure?” He tries once more, just to give you an out. It isn’t like you to keep anything from him, and he knows this, but you can’t help but want to keep this one thing under lock-and-key. At least for now, or forever.

You nod. “What’s up anyway?”

“Well, I’ve been missing my best friend like crazy since someone’s been ghosting me for the past two weeks.”

The emphasis on ‘someone’ makes you snort, just a little and only for a moment because he shoots you a playful glare. You hold your hands up in surrender in hopes of spurring the conversation forward. Just because you wanted to avoid him to keep the truth under wraps doesn’t mean you haven’t missed the cheeky bastard.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him, with a faint smile. “Has it been that hard without me?”

“The hardest! Kenma’s sick of me, you know. Him, I’m used to wanting to keep me away. But you? That’s a different playing field.” It’s all in a playful jest, of course, and whatever the case may be for you, you know that Kuroo doesn’t mind. He knows it would be for a good reason, even if you don’t think this is all that good of a reason to try and push him away. It’s a hard thing to do when it’s clear that he has no intentions of being set aside, and how can you, given the history here?

“Is there anything I can do to make it up to you, o’dramatic one?” Of course, you’ll play it off, just to see the toothy grin on his lips, and watch the light dance in the hickory of his eyes as he considers his next quip. You wonder if he’ll have you do something stupid just to make up for the sudden separation, although you’re grateful that he’s a more benevolent schemer where you’re concerned. You expect him to charge you a free coffee or something.

“Come to my game on Saturday, please,” Kuroo coughs the last word, as if it might be painful for him to say, or maybe he’s trying to play off sounding forceful, which has never been his forte.

You can’t help but smile albeit confused at the sudden news when it feels like it’s been ages since his last high school game. “A game? With who?”

“It’s just a reunion game against Karasuno, since it’s a rare occasion where we all happen to be free at the same time, and you know us. We’re always hankering for another Battle at the Garbage Dump.”

Before you can say anything, he adds, “If you love me, you’ll come!”

You probably miss the way he looks at you a little more longingly than he once did, as if there’s something he means in these cheeky words. They should mean nothing more than provocations, a mild itch of guilt tripping, but only in good nature. It couldn’t possibly mean anything in the way that you’re hoping. No, not at all.

You know he only means it all in a lighthearted way, but you can’t deny the way your heart seems to rumble with a very distinct sound of early springtime thunder and you feel the back of your throat go dry. Of course, you can’t deny this truth, not even when it’s disguised like this. And anyway, who would you be if you missed out on one of his games?

Of course, you’ll go. 

/

When Kozume calls you over, you already know it’s a mistake to oblige.

The moment you get there, he’s playing a game though he pays a little more attention to you when he sees how much you tense up at the sound of Kuroo’s name. It’s enough for the conversation to completely focus on the former Nekoma captain, and you’re almost certain you want to go home already. If anything, you might be able to cite that you had some homework you need to sort out before the big game.

“You shouldn’t keep lying to yourself. Plus, I know you finished all your homework so you wouldn’t be distracted for the game,” Kozume points out, shooting you a brief pointed look. “You’ve been avoiding me too, you know.” 

And this is why: visiting Kozume means speculations, and speculations means hopes, and those mean disappointments because reality is just that cruel. You tell him so in your apology, even when he pointedly ignores the question and instead asks you one.

“When do you think you’ll tell him?”

You look at him incredulously. “Why would I do that?”

The sheer idea is preposterous; confessing to Kuroo might invite trouble for the two of you and the state of your friendship. Sure, you tried ignoring him and seeing if that could help, but that was a bust. Telling him would probably be even worse. Probably the worst thing you could do in this situation. Is it even possible to be okay after confessing to your best friend?

“You’re both idiots who deserve to be together. Why else would I ask?”

He isn’t even looking at you as he says any of this, instead focusing his attention on the characters in his game. His own little fantasy. A part of you is envious of the escapism, wishing for a bit of that for yourself at the moment. At least you can forge a love story from camaraderie there, and in a game world like that, it’s acceptable. Loving your best friend in the modern reality? Not so much.

You’re a little confused at Kozume’s wording. What was he trying to say? Kuroo liked you back? The thought makes you shake your head.

“Easier for you to say,” you roll your eyes at him, certain he hasn’t seen it, but he clicks his tongue at you anyway.

“If you did something, or let yourself do something, life would be so much easier for the both of you.”

“You say this with the assumption that he feels something too,” you point out, still in disbelief. After all, why would Kuroo love you back as more than a friend?

“Why do you even love him anyway?”

You can’t help but reply so nonchalantly when it’s the first thing that comes to mind. “Why not?”

There are many answers to that question, probably more than you care to admit, let alone to Kozume. Even without meeting his eyes or saying a word about any of it, he seems to know already. It’s unnerving. Have you always been this easy to read? Does Kuroo know too?

“Why don’t you just tell him?”

“It’d make things too complicated.”

In other words: it’s easier to tell the truth when you’re not speaking to Kuroo about the whole thing. Hell, it’s easier to address it when it isn’t directly to him. It happened, and obviously there’s no way to strip the power from it now.

“Is that what’s really stopping you?”

You take a moment to consider this, and maybe the large part is the fear of consequence, if there will be one, what it will be, that sort of thing.

“Yeah…”

“Then stop thinking and just do something about it. I’ve never known you to take things lying down. Talk to him after the game or something.”

You don’t say anything, but you consider it.

/

The day of the game is supposed to be simple. It isn’t like it’s supposed to bloom into anything, and yet you find yourself thrumming with excitement when Kuroo easily finds you in the crowd before he’s set to enter the gym.

You don’t care to admit how much you enjoy this or the sight of seeing him in that vibrant shade of red. The same way you’ve seen him in countless games. It stirs something in your chest as you’re reminded of those days, like this revelation of your feelings might have bloomed sooner than you realized.

“Come find me after the game,” Kuroo tells you with that beautifully toothy grin of his, and you find that you can hardly breathe. “I have something to tell you when I win.”

When did he get so damn good looking? You want to wonder, though that would only be one of many ponderings. You don’t know what his words mean, or why the implication makes your heart react the way it does, but you hope against your own ideals just to remain in reality. At least you try to.

It’s hard once the game begins.

/

Watching him play feels like falling in love again.

You don’t know what it is in the way Kuroo carries himself or how he seems to dance across the court with a hitch in any of his movements, but it’s addictive to watch. How easily he remains himself even on the court. The very cheeky grin flashes at his opponents, particularly Tsukishima, who looks more and more fired up as they contain their rally. They don’t look much different than when they first played against one another in high school, though they all seem to carry a newfound sense of wisdom in this game they’ve been destined to play time and time again.

Each rally feels like it goes on for longer than the last, as if everything will be gone in a single drop, and perhaps it’s true to say that this mirrors that of love. How you may try as you might to keep the secret of loving away from reality, but it all comes crashing down eventually. It feels that way when you see the final round reach a neck and neck standstill. Neither side wants the ball to drop, to allot victory to their opponent, of course.

It’s Kuroo’s determination that stands out to you. The way he seems to cheer his team on even without words as he tries his best to keep the orange, green, and white ball in play. He’s never been one to give up no matter the circumstances. He’s always found a way to move things in his favor, and he’s never once wavered, even in the beginning of his time with volleyball, he’s always tried, even with losses under his belt.

It’s strangely beautiful to bear witness to this play once more. You don’t know what it is when he looks back at you before his notoriously accurate block with a small, yet triumphant smile, like he knows this’ll win the game, or even so, bring them closer to it, but it rouses something even stranger in your chest as you cheer alongside everyone else in celebration of the first point of two needed to finally win the game. This is by no means a big game like the Inter-high or anything, but it feels that way. Maybe that’s why everything seems to stand out to you. It feels like something big might happen.

Simple as this game might be, it feels like everything when they reach the end of the rally.

They win, and you rise from your seat without a second thought. 

/

You don’t think about what you’re doing.

Your limbs seem to move on their own accord as the rest of the team does a final bow to the audience. You don’t bother stopping to wonder if Kuroo’s searching the crowd for you as you make your way down the stairs, or what the little frown on his face means when his gaze lingers on the spot right behind the banner as soon as you reach the hallway across from the court. Your spot.

No, you don’t stop to think about it.

You don’t even stop moving as you call his name or as you see the light come back to his beautiful hickory eyes. You don’t stop to consider what that might mean either.

Instead you run to him at full speed without bumping into anyone, truly a miracle in and of itself, and instead of stopping right before him with your feet planted firmly on the ground like any other person, you choose to jump. You don’t know why. You don’t think about why either. You just believe that he won’t drop you because he’s never given you a reason to believe otherwise. In fact, you absolutely trust him to catch you now more than ever, and to no one’s surprise, he does.

There are so many things you want to do—reasonable things that any normal best friend supporting their best friend would do. You want to say congratulations. You want to just hug him and jump down because you want to believe that this will be like any other hug you’ve shared with this man you’ve known for years. And maybe it could’ve been that simple if you had just stopped to consider what your actions would mean to him, you, and everyone else. But you don’t bother with the frivolities, you don’t want to yet.

Because when you really look at Kuroo, you catch sight of something beautiful. A sight all too familiar to you and the years of memories you’ve shared together. It’s him in his most purest form; little drops of sweat falling at the sides of his face, an elated grin in all its toothy glory, and the little crinkles at the corners of his eyes becoming more and more prominent. And yet, there’s something a little too new in the way that he looks back at you, the way his gaze lingers on your lips and only snaps back up to your eyes when you say his name. 

Your grip around his shoulders tightens and his lips fall a little closer together like he might say something, but you don’t give him a chance. It’s hard when you find yourself on a roll of impulses, like you’re untouchable from consequence.

Maybe you’ve watched too many romance movies, or maybe read too many stories where the best friends finally get together after years of pining and being called idiots by everyone around them. You know it’s all too silly, and you and Kuroo have spent evenings mocking the theatrics of boombox accompanied confessions and singing over the loudspeakers with the marching band as the main male lead’s instrumental track. They’re endearing in the moment, but so painfully unreal, you almost wish this world was entirely fantasy for just a taste of what could be with Kuroo. That’s the true villain, maybe. You can’t stop yourself now.

Everything everyone has ever speculated about you two flies over your head, and for once in a great while, you stop caring enough to just do what you’ve always wanted to do, to finally actualize the fantasies you’ve played out over and over in your head.

Fuck it, you decide. If there’s any time to do this, it’s now. The extra shit can wait.

So, before any words, you kiss him.

You take note of the way he responds so gently to the initiation. It’s a tentative pressure, as if he’s testing the waters to see what you can handle before you pull away. But you don’t. You remain, and maybe part of that has to do with the adrenaline coursing through your veins or maybe it’s the part of you that seeks this wish fulfillment and wants to bask in it before reality sinks it.

The whole thing is indescribable. Of course, it is. All of your fantasies have never gotten you as far as the real deal. You wouldn’t have guessed just how close to peppermint he would taste, or that there would be a slight hint of honeyed lemons in the aftertaste. Like the treat promises, you feel invigorated, rejuvenated, and maybe even worst of all, hungry for a little more.

This is why you readjust your grip around his shoulders as you attempt to deepen the kiss. In response, his grip on your thighs tighten, as if he might be afraid you’ll disappear. And to your surprise, he kisses you back with just as much fervor, like it might be the last time.

You don’t remember what draws you apart, whether it’s one of his teammates jeering at you two or if it’s your respective needs to breathe, but you’re inclined to etch this new sight of him to memory. The way his chest heaves, his pupils dilated, and his lips all pink and swollen. It’s new and beautiful, and you wonder if it’ll happen again.

And then it hits you.

What you’ve done. Your head spins just a little.

“I’ve fucked us up, haven’t I?” Your words are no louder than a whisper, but it feels like it’s only you two right now. Nothing else to cut into this moment, though you almost sort of wish for an opportunity to sink into the ground because what the fuck did you just do?

All you can do is try to shake yourself away from him, back down to the ground, back to reality.

Kuroo keeps you in place and takes the chance to really look at you. His eyes scan your face for a trace of truth, not that this would be a hard feat anyway. You’ve never been good at hiding anything from him, not when you were kids, and most certainly not now. You wonder if he can read, “I’m totally and utterly in love with you” from your eyes or if it somehow materialized across your forehead like Kozume and Nobuyuki have always teased you.

“That’s not entirely fair,” he says, still faint with his usual teasing.

“Huh?” Your eyebrows knit together, and your lips seem to pull into an involuntary frown.

“That implies that you were the only one who compromised our friendship…” he pauses for a second as his bottom lip trembles and he gives an inaudible swallow, “right?”

“What are you getting at?” Simply the implication is enough to bring lightning to your skin, as if to resuscitate you back to a more serene state. Your heart can’t seem to handle this overload, however. You wonder if he can hear it.

“I think you know what I’m getting at...”

His cheeks have gone pinker than the cherry blossoms in spring. Of course, it should’ve been enough to confirm your suspicions. You could’ve left it at that, but for your sake, for your very own heart, you tell him what you need.

“Say it.”

One more look at you and it’s enough for him. Somehow you know that without being told.

“I love you.”

Your heart trembles, even louder now, like a thunderstorm. That strange calmness remains. The kind only he can elicit in you.

Kuroo looks at you in wait, in wonder, as if your answer wasn’t as clear as day already. You laugh a little and the corners of his lips turn upward.

“I love you too.”

He lets you drop down, of course, but only after another kiss.

You hold his hand and walk through the double doors you entered through.

This time together.

[redhoodssweetheart]

Life and Death

Genre: Mythology AU (Orpheus and Eurydice)

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Requested: Yes (This is apart of my 1.5K follower celebration, please see post for details.)

Word Count: 2.3K

Warnings: Angst with a happy ending, character death

Description:  Natasha and you were happy, but a month after your wedding you are killed by a snake.  Natasha will do anything to get you back, even if it means she has to go into the Underworld to retrieve you.

It’s funny how one moment you can be blissfully happy and then in another moment that happiness is slipping through your fingers like grains of sand.  Natasha and Y/N had been married for nearly a month, their union had been celebrated throughout their small town.  But there were rumors that that love and happiness would only last but a short while.  Some claimed their union was doomed.  There was a prophecy that said that their love would be doomed, that their love, while great, wouldn’t last.

You had worried that the prophecy would come true, but Natasha didn’t put stock into the words from someone she had considered a fraud.  She knew that there would be those who didn’t want her to be happy.  They were jealous of her and wanted to see her fail.  She wouldn’t let anyone hurt you.

But it wasn’t a someone that would take you from her. 

“Natasha!”  Steve’s voice sounded from outside.  “Natasha,” her door flung open.  “Come quick, it’s Y/N.”

She dropped the cloth she had been drying her dishes with and followed Steve to the fields where a crowd had gathered.  Soft sobs could be heard coming from several of the people you were closest too.  Wanda was clinging to her husband, her brother stoic beside her.  Then there was Bucky holding onto his wife Sarah.  Sam was knelt by a body on the ground and that was when it hit Natasha that it was you.

“Y/N!”  She cried, landing in the dirt beside you, but you didn’t respond.  You appeared to be asleep and Sam looked at Natasha, tears swimming in his eyes.

“Natasha, I’m sorry… she’s gone,” his voice was hoarse.  “It was snakes, she didn’t see them until it was too late, there was nothing we could do.”

Natasha didn’t want to believe it.  This couldn’t be happening.  This couldn’t be true.  

But a few days later your body was burned on the funeral pyre, a gold coin placed under your tongue for the ferryman.  Natasha clung to Clint, not trusting herself to be able to stand on her own as she watched the fire consume your final resting place.  When it was over she went home alone, collapsing onto the floor and crying there for hours.  The home felt cold without you, your light and happiness seeming to have seeped out of the space.

“I warned you,” she jumped at the sound of the voice and turned to find Stephen sitting on the couch, a cup of tea in his hands.  “I warned you that this would happen, but neither one of you listened.”

Natasha was on him in a moment her hand wrapped around his throat.  “You did this,” she hissed.  “You took away my happiness!”

Stephen looked bored and unbothered by her, “I did nothing of the sort.  I wished no ill will on you or your beloved.  I am merely a messenger for the gods and they told me that this union would only end in tragedy.  Lady Hera did not bless this union.”

“I didn’t ask for a blessing, I just wanted happiness.  A lifetime of misery and she was the one thing that made me happy.  Why must we be punished for a single, stupid blessing?”  Her hand tightened and still he seemed so unbothered by the fact that she was moments away from killing him.  All her old training coming back, she had been bred for war and though she hadn’t taken a life in years she wasn’t opposed to taking one more.

“Do you want to know how to get her back?”  Stephen arched an eyebrow.

Her grip loosened, “How?”

“You must travel to the Underworld, make a bargain with Lord Hades.  His wife is with him, he tends to be softer when she’s around.  He may grant you your wish of getting your wife back,” Stephen maneuvered out from under her, a sheet of paper in his hands.  “This is the closest entrance to the Underworld.  Sleep on it.”  

She clutched the map in her hands, she knew where the entrance was, and when she looked up to ask him if she could truly trust him, he was gone.  Glancing back at the map she felt determination set into her bones and she began to pack.

Steve appeared at Natasha’s home the following morning to see how she was doing and discovered that she was packing.  “Nat, what on earth are you doing?”

She didn’t even look up as she wrapped her bread in a cloth, “I’m getting Y/N back.”

There was a moment of silence, and then, “That’s not possible.”

She held up the map to the Underworld, “I’m going to go and make a bargain with Hades himself.”  She turned and faced her friend, “I have to try this Steve, I love her.  We got one month together when we deserved a lifetime.  She deserved more than what she got.  I have to try and give her the second chance at life.”

Steve thought that this was the craziest idea that he had ever heard but he walked over and helped her finish packing.  When she went to leave, he kissed her cheek and wished her good luck.  He didn’t know if she would succeed or fail, but he hoped that she would be all right either way.

It took several days for Natasha to reach the entrance to the Underworld.  She passed through several villages and replenished her supplies before reaching the cavern that would lead her down into the place where mortals were not allowed.  She had heard of one other that had attempted this.  His name had been Hercules and he had been trying to pay off his sins for murdering his entire family.

She dove into the darkness and headed down, down, down.  When she emerged from the darkness she found herself on the banks of a river.  Souls were milling around hoping for someone to give them a way across.  They eyed Natasha warily and she made her way toward the docks.  A ferry was waiting and Charon knew instantly that she was not one of the dead.

“I only ferry souls, mortal,” his tone relayed that he was bored.

She produced a coin, “Please, I have payment.”

Charon eyed the coin and motioned for her to board.  As they sailed he said, “Lord Hades will not be pleased to see yet another mortal show up on his doorstep.”

“I have no other choice,” her voice was soft.

The rest of the ride was silent and he dropped her off at the other side of the river.  His final words to her were the directions to the palace.  Along the way she ran into Cerberus and managed to charm him into letting her pass.  Then she saw the palace of the Lord of the Underworld looming before her.  It appeared to be carved out of the very rock that the walls of the Underworld were made of.  It was grand and exactly how she had imagined it would be.

She pushed the doors open and headed down the long halls, crystal chandeliers casting colorful rainbows along the walls and floors, paintings of fields and wildlife decorated the walls, and a plush wine colored rug was beneath her feet.

Several spirits eyed her as she moved through the halls looking for the throne room.  She wasn’t sure how, but she knew instinctively where to go.  It was almost as if an invisible force was pulling her in that direction.  When she arrived the doors were open and before her Hades and Persephone sat on their thrones.  She paused before them, staring at them.  She had never been before a god before, let alone two.

“What brings a mortal to my realm before her time is up?”  His voice was deep and commanding.

Natasha squared her shoulders and said, “I’ve come to retrieve my wife Y/N.  She died too soon.”

“Too soon?”  Hades questioned.  “It is my belief that her thread of life had been cut?  Are you a Fate?  Did you make a mistake?  Tell me, mortal, how do you know that her life ended too soon?”

“She didn’t deserve to die like that,” Natasha said.  “We had our whole lives ahead of us, she was good and kind, and I can’t live my life without her beside me.”

Persephone put a hand on her husband’s arm, “What would you do to get me back, my love?”

He looked toward her and Natasha felt hope blooming inside her.  “Please,” she begged, pulling the gods’ attention back to her.  “I have done many terrible things in my life, but Y/N was the one thing that I did do right.  If she was punished because she chose me then she shouldn’t have been.  Give me one chance.”

Hades contemplated her words, “All right, I will give you a chance to be reunited with your mortal love.  But you have to prove to me that you are worthy of this.  When she takes your hand you may not look upon her face until the both of you are out of the Underworld.  Trust that she will follow you home to the realm above.  Only then can you have her back.”

“Thank you, my Lord,” she sighed.  “Thank you.”

A hand took hers and she jumped, fighting the urge to look back to see your face again.  She squeezed your hand and began to lead you away from the palace and the Underworld.

Persephone looked at her husband and asked, “Do you think they will make it?”

Hades watched the door where the two of them had disappeared, “I do not know my love, but she will not get this chance again if she fails.”

Meanwhile you followed Natasha, you did not know of the deal she had made with Hades.  You did not know that she was not allowed to look at you until you both reached the mortal realm.  You wondered why she would not speak, why she was so quiet.  You did not ask and you did not falter in your steps.  She led you up and up and you realized where you were going.

Home.

She was taking you back home.

The two of you climbed higher and higher, you could see the light from the world of the living before you.  Natasha still hadn’t turned and you held onto her tighter.  Her feet crossed over the threshold of the Underworld and she began to turn, but you were still in the darkness, still in the cave.

When her eyes beheld yours she smiled widely, she had made it, you were home.  But then your fingers melted through hers as if you weren’t really there and your soul went flying back into the darkness below.  Natasha let out a scream and lunged forward only to be met with solid rock.  She had been so close.  She thought that you had both made it out, but she should have gone farther just to be sure.

She let out a sob, there would be no second chances this time.

Hades sighed, he had felt your soul return.  “She was so close,” he murmured.

Persephone kissed her husband’s cheek, “They will find their way back to one another someday, my love.  As they always have.”

He looked at your soul, waiting at the edge of Elysium for Natasha to return, patient as always.

Many Years Later

Natasha exited the coffee shop, the hustle and bustle of New York City filling her ears.  She checked her phone and saw that she had a missed message from Steve telling her to get to the Tower as quickly as she could.  Sighing, she slipped her phone back into her pocket and headed down the street.  Her cup of coffee keeping her hands warm, fall had just arrived and things were beginning to cool down.

She felt her phone buzz again and cursed Steve.  She was on her way.  As she reached for it she glanced down for merely a moment and bumped into someone.  Her coffee landed on the ground, steaming as it poured from the cup.  “I’m so sorry!”  A new voice said.  “I’ll buy you a new one.”

Natasha looked up to find you standing there looking at her with an anxious look.  You weren’t sure if she was going to yell at you or not.  “It’s all right, accidents happen.”

“At least let me buy you a new one,” you offered.  “I’ll feel bad the entire day if I don’t.”

The offer was tempting, but her phone was buzzing again alerting her to yet another message from Steve.  “I can’t right now, I’m late for something, but maybe some other time.”  She pulled a scrap piece of paper from her bag and scrawled her name and number on it.  “Text me and give me a date and time.”

You smiled at her and she felt as though her breath had been taken, “All right, Natasha.  It’s a date.”

You moved past her and she was just staring at you when she felt her phone begin to ring, “God damnit, Steve, I’m on my way!”  She snapped as she tore her eyes away from you and began heading toward the tower.

Nearby at a little bistro two people sat watching the interaction, “I told you so.”  Persephone grinned at her husband and he sighed.

“As you always are, my dear,” he gave her a fond look and her cheeks heated just a bit.  “What do I owe you this time?”

“Dinner,” she said.  “Someplace nice.  Maybe we could make a vacation out of it.”

He leaned in and kissed her lips, “Your wish is my command.”

A year later Natasha proposed to you and you happily agreed.  This time your marriage didn’t end in tragedy, but you lived out the rest of your days together at last.

[peralta-guaranteed]

Would u write something about Mac first words being "dad" o "daddy" and Jake GOING INSANE about that? I think it would be really special to him bc all his story with his dad and all his fear on becoming

He'd taken his eyes off of him for five seconds - the card machine at the bodega was giving him some prompt he'd never seen before - so of course something had to happen. Jake still mostly banked on Mac being unable to walk freely for more than a few steps from him, but he should've really factored in all the perfect toddler-height shelving that he could use as railings to get a whole aisle over before he and the cashier flinched from the sound of a crash.

And then the crying started.

The cashier was actually faster than him, given a headstart from not having to drop an entire basket of shopping to run over, but Jake was directly behind her to see his kid sitting on the ground, a puddle of something slopping around him and half over him. Pasta sauce, he realised as he saw the wobbly carton display that had obviously not been as steady as the metal shelves Mac had been holding onto before.

"Da...!" Mac sobbed with outstretched arms towards him. "Da-heee..." He wailed again with tears streaming down his face while Jake lifted him up, covering himself in sauce too as Mac clung to him and sobbed into his shoulder.

"Daddy's here, bud. It's okay. It's okay." He bounced him up and down as the crying slowed, cursing himself out in his head all the while. How did he let him wander away like that? Why did he not notice sooner? He'd been careless and stupid and irrespsonsible and a horrible fath-

"Is he okay?" The cashier still looked far more worried at them than at the mess she'll have to clean up now, and it gladly brought him back to centre as the only real adult in the room right now (she can't be more than 17, he thinks).

"Yeah, just spooked. I'm so sorry, I'll pay for the sauce of course-" Jake stopped as Mac lifted his head off his shoulder again, eyes red-rimmed but not crying anymore, at least, only to see that his forehead was less covered in pasta sauce and more smeared with blood from a cut over his eyebrow, and his heart dropped even deeper than when he heard the crash. "Actually, do you sell bandaids?"

-*-

"It's okay, peanut. Daddy's fixing it." He forces his voice to be soft and calm while Mac sniffles, sitting on the counter, the cashier picking up Jake's dropped shopping bags while he cleans the little cut with the alcohol wipes she'd handed him without even ringing them up. It's not that bad, he tries to comfort himself fruitlessly, just a little nick that bled a bit more than usual, but should be fine with a bandaid and some lotion. It's fine. He didn't- he didn't let Mac get actually injured. He didn't. Even though his subconscious was screaming nothing else at him.

Mac's eyes are still swimming while he stares up at Jake, unblinking, clinging to his fake-soft smile as probably the only thing to convince him there was no need to cry at the moment. You and me both, Jake thinks for a second.

"Daddeh." He squeaks softly as Jake sticks on a puppy-themed bandaid (also not rung up), and grabs his hand with his little grubby fingers, and time kind of stops for a moment as they look at each other. Mac's eyes are big and still slightly red-rimmed, but trained on him like there's nothing else in the world but them, and for Jake, there might as well not be.

"See, Daddy fixed it." The cashier breaks through, smiling at him too as she hands Jake his shopping with the bandaid box dropped in, and time loops back into normal. She gets a soft Thanks and a nod after she hands him his card from the blasted machine that started it all, too, and doesn't even mention the several jars broken an aisle over. She waves goodbye to Mac instead as they leave, and Jake is definitely leaving the largest bills he has in her tip jar next time they come in.

-*-

Mac's splashing water and bubbles around in his small tub, because the sauce had leaked through his dungarees straight over his legs, and Jake is busy scrubbing him down with the soft loofah that'll probably have to go into the trash after all this. There's too much swirling through his head while he carefully showers Mac off. A whole barrage of emotion he'd love to just aimlessly ramble out, but there's no one to listen to him in their little apartment right now, the only person who'd maybe understand him still stuck at work. He looks at the puppy bandaid on Mac's forehead that he'll have to change after the bath, at his happy face playing with the little ducky that makes such fun squeaky noises when it's filled with water, no sign of tears or pain left at all.

"Hey, Mac-a-roni." Jake whispers while Mac giggles and splashes some more water out of the baby-tub into the big one it was sitting in. "You... said something at the bodega, didn't you?"

Mac had been babbling and making noises for months now, lots of Goos and Gaas, the occasional Bleh and Duh thrown in, but Jake and Amy had agreed that none of those had been discernible as words yet, especially as they were never directed at anything in particular. Not like on the counter back there, staring straight at him with his big, chocolate eyes after that little parenting disaster he still wanted to scold himself for. Not like right now, soap bubbles clinging to his curls, smiling up at him in the comforting moment of their usual night routine.

"Daddeh!" Mac squeaks again, holding his arms out to be picked up into a towel like always, but held against Jake's chest much tighter than usual. He's trying not to cry, very hard, but he's sure his eyes are swimming and shiny as much as Mac's were while he was being bandaged up.

"Daddeh." He repeats as Jake laughs, breathlessly, kisses up and down his perfect chubby cheeks for some more squeals and laughter from them both, hugs him close again and again even as he dries him off and gets him dressed.

There's something warm glowing in his chest, Jake feels as he dances Mac to sleep to abuela's Spanish lullaby tape, something that feels both familiar and foreign at once. It reminds him of the feeling that shook all through him when that firefighter placed a screaming, goo-covered baby onto Amy's chest as she cried and carefully touched the dark whisps of hair already matted to his head. That feeling that settled around his heart for forever as Rosa handed him a cleaned up, swaddled baby that wasn't screaming anymore, his eyes closed but his teensy tiny hand wrapping tight around Jake's finger. It's a little different - but it's not, it's more of the same, but grown. Added on, like a new bud on an already flowering tree.

Jake is sure there'll be lots of new blooms on that feeling in the years to come, but this one, the one that opens up even more as Mac sighs one more little "Daddeh" as he falls asleep against his shoulder, will surely be remembered for forever.

-*-

He has enough wherewithal to warn Amy about the bandaid when she gets home and immediately moves to check on sleeping Mac, and she only rolls her eyes when she drops down onto the couch next to him after softly closing the nursery door.

"Do I even want to hear the story of the bandaid?"

"It wasn't anything. Just a little accident at the bodega. He's fine." Jake's actually convinced himself of that now, too, so it sounds believable enough.

"Alright." Amy nods, he swallows back down the worries he thought about sharing if she asked him to still explain instead. "Aside from that, how was your day with him? Did you have fun?"

"Oh yeah." Jake tries to grin and pulls her in to lean against his side as she rests her head on his shoulder, seeming almost as sleepy as Mac was when he did it earlier. "We went to the park and the post office and the bank and the bodega, obviously. A whole Brooklyn adventure."

"That's nice." Amy says in a quiet voice, and he wonders if he'll have to carry her to bed in a second.

"And, well." He hesitates, and that is enough to make her lift her head. Maybe he shouldn't say it. Maybe he should wait until the morning, let her discover it on her own, and pretend like it's the first time he's hearing it too. Forget about how it all came about today.

"Well what?"

"He said something."

"What?! Why didn't you lead with that? Why didn't you text me?!?" She sits up, staring at him with wide eyes, and he looks - apologetic, almost worried.

"I didn't want you to feel bad because you missed it." And didn't want to explain how I fucked up to make it happen.

"Oh." She visibly deflates, but then smiles at him. "But you heard it, right? He said it in front of you?"

"Yeah. He, uh. Actually. He said daddy. To me."

Jake completely misinterprets Amy's face, her scrunched together eyebrows, her shining eyes, her mouth softly opening and closing, and immediately leans forward with a hand on her arm to console her.

"I'm sure he's going to say Mama next, Ames - he's already going 'Mah' all the time, so-"

"He called you daddy?" Her voice is so soft, almost breaking, as he feels her hands on his cheek. "Jake, that's wonderful!"

"Yeah." He nods with a shy smile, but Amy's face only softens more.

"You're his first word." She says with so much reverance, and he can't feel bad about it anymore. Can't think he doesn't really deserve it, not when she looks at him with that much love in her eyes. "You're Mac's first word."

"I'm daddeh." His smile isn't so shy anymore, not when he says it out loud like that, not when it feels 100% right.

"You're really daddy, babe. You're daddy."

He huffs and smiles even wider with another nod, and that feeling is back, that little warm glow blooming in his chest, and Amy is quick to wipe away the few tears that make their way down his cheeks all of a sudden before bending forward for a kiss.

"DADDEH!" echoes through the room from behind a closed door where someone is clearly not interested in sleeping anymore, and Amy laughs against his lips.

"See?"

"I'm gonna go and get him." Jake sighs happily.

"Oh please." She nods as he gets up. "I want to see him say it to you."

[lubdubsworld]

Better Man.

~~~~~~~~~~~~`Just to see you smile, I’d do anything. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taehyung x Oc

Rated 18 +

Post Divorce, Getting Back Together, Second chances, Angst.

Chapter 1    Chapter 2   Chapter 3   Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Do you ever truly know what someone is feeling?

You could spend decades , breathing the same air, hands held , your fingers brushing ....connected physically and even mentally but a person’s emotions, they’re hidden away. 

You only ever know what they’re willing to show .

And yet, 

all of us build relationships, convinced that we know exactly what the other person will feel when we act a certain way. Buying her flowers will make happy....visiting him at work will take away that little bit of stress.

But sometimes, what we think someone feels, may not be what they truly feel.

And that’s when your actions, well intended actions..... end up with disastrous consequences. 

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

“So....last night...” Jungkook’s teasing voice did nothing to ease the pounding in my head.

“I do believe you promised not to tease me about it if I drank two glasses of water, which I did by the way.” I told him firmly, trying to bring the words on my planner into focus as i squinted. Three meeting. Each two hours long. 

kill me now. 

“I wanted to ask HR to give you the day off but you have quite a schedule today. “ He said casually,  leaning over me to peer into the planner . I glanced at his wrist resting on the table, the expensive rolex showing that it was a little past 9. 

“ We’re planning out the Christmas campaign first and I have a meeting with Taehyung’s team in the afternoon so we can go over the contract see if they have any requirements and then the social media team in the evening at four to discuss promos and revamping the website.” I glanced up at him. 

He gave me a smile before casually leaning down, lightly gripping my chin and tilting my face up. I felt the brush of his lips against mine, fleeting and gentle. 

‘You’re beautiful.” He smiled. 

I blinked.

And then took a deep breath.

“Your wife...” I said softly. “ I saw her today.” 

Jungkook went completely still at that. 

“She was waiting in the lobby on my way up. I didn’t know who you were married to and I was a little shocked and also little upset because....” I glanced at him. “ She was my best friend in college. “

Jungkook swore. 

“Fuck.. I told her to stay the fuck away from my company. Did she say something to you?” 

i shook my head.

“I didn’t greet her because I wasn’t sure if she remembered me. And I wasn’t sure if i was remembering her right. i didn’t know she was your wife till i heard someone mention it in the elevator on my way up. Did you know that she and i knew each other?” 

Jungkook looked just a little guilty.

“When you first joined the company, she saw your resume on my cvomputer. told me a lot about you. She remembers you. Fondly. She wanted to come meet you but...things happened.  “ He shrugged.

Things like infidelity and divorces . 

“Ahh...” I smiled. “ Tell me i wasn’t another way to get back at your ex wife, Jeon Jungkook ssi...” 

He made a noise of protest.

“no... No of course not Christ...it’s just...I’ll admit she made me curious about you. She spoke of you being spontaneous and fun and wild and I’d seen you as this demure, elegant woman in the office. i was curious. I wanted to know which one was the real you. “

“Were you curious before she cheated....or after?”

“ Jang Mi...this isn’t what it looks like .. I’m done with her. She fucked my best buddy and ruined my fucking life...” He sounded pained. 

I frowned. 

“It’s hard to believe she would do something like that. The Aera i remember had a very strong moral compass.” 

“Yeah well, apparently, you can live whole entire lives with someone and never really know the person. Listen, do we really have to talk about my ex wife?” He asked, eyes shining with discomfort. 

I shrugged.

“I’m not fond of drama. I won’t tangle myself in a relationship that risks hurting a lot of people Jungkook. That’s just not the kind of person I am. I’m sorry.” 

He made a noise of impatience, shaking his head. 

“We won’t be hurting anyone... We have fun together. We like each other. We’re attracted to each other...that’s all that matters....” He said sharply.

“ If we were in our twenties , without kids ....maybe. But that's not how it is now. I have a son, you have a daughter and I think I’m not completely over my marriage yet.” I said softly. 

He froze.

“And i don’t think you’re completely over your wife either.” I smiled.

He glared at me. 

“Ex-wife.” He snarled.

“She makes you feel things, Jungkook. You need to sort that out before you start something new with someone else. I’m only saying this because we’re old enough not to 

He growled and punched the desk. 

“God, how can she keep ruining my life even when she’s out of it.” He muttered, stepping away from me and moving to the door. 

I watched him storm out of my office and bit my lip. 

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

By the time evening rolled around, I was exhausted. But the day had been productive and I was happy because the contract had been finalized, the theme had been decided and we’d also spent an amazing three hours redesigning the website. Although it wasn’t in my job description I had studied web design in college and the creative department always welcomed my inputs. 

“You’re in a good mood...” Taehyung’s voice was a complete surprise and I turned to him, shocked. He was dressed in a black t shirt and blue jeans and sneakers and looked a whole decade younger. 

I felt affection rise up my throat so fast I nearly choked. 

“What are you doing here?”

“My agent told me you guys were incredibly cooperative today. She also told me you were quite possibly the loveliest woman she’s ever met and that I’m an idiot to have let you go.” He smiled. 

I laughed, shaking my head and my gaze shifted to the small bunch of tiger lilies in his hand. 

I felt warmth bloom in my chest. 

“You remembered.” I said softly, pleased. 

“Thirteen years since our first date.  The lily to my tiger. ” He held the flowers to me and I grinned, pressing the flowers to my chest. 

“Man I feel old.” I muttered.

“You are old.” Tae grinned and i grimaced, before tossing him a glare. . 

“You’re supposed to say I still look as beautiful as i did thirteen years ago.” I said. 

“But you don.t” He grinned impishly. “ You look a billion times  more  beautiful.” 

I felt the atmosphere shift, the air charged with something dangerous and i looked away. Usually, this was when I would laugh and throw my arms around him. Pull him close and press my lips against his , slip my fingers into his t shirt and trace the skin of his back. Feel his hands on my waist as he lifted me up to twirl me around and kiss me just like that. 

How often had we kissed that way? Thirteen years is a long time to count the number of kisses we’d shared. 

We both stayed quiet, looking anywhere but at each other.

“I...there’s a reason I came.” He said finally.

I glanced at him.

“Oh?”

“The lawyer. Ms. Lee she ... recommended a relationship counselor”

I blinked, my breath catching in my throat. 

“Taehyung we’re-”

“Just hear me out. Its not mandatory and it won’t affect the divorce in anyway. its just something the court offers all couples going through a divorce and we’re free to refuse it. “

“Did you?” I asked. 

“Did I what?”

“Refuse it. Did you tell her no?” 

He stared at me. 

“No.” He said finally.

I exhaled sharply.

“Wow.” I whispered, feeling jittery and unbalanced. He sighed and came closer, reaching out to lightly grip my wrists. I let him tug me closer into a hug and held him tight, my heart pounding with anxiety.

“Mia.... I just... I’m not saying we should try to fix this.... relationship.” He said softly, eyes gentle and pleading, “  I just think this whole thing has taken a toll on both of us and maybe we can heal better if we get the help of a professional. Come out of this with closure. Instead of battling guilt and regrets everyday. Just ....it could help us move on. Don’t you think?”

You could never really tell what the other person is feeling. 

I couldn’t tell what Taehyung was feeling right now? 

Hope ?

Hope that we would fix our marriage....

or maybe hope that he would finally move on from me.. Maybe this whole thing was his final attempt to end things with me for good. So he could walk out of my life forever without any lingering guilt or regret. 

I would never know. 

I clung to him harder and somehow the pain of the entire two years we’d been apart, rammed into me at once. 

I choked on a sob. Breathing became difficult and I felt myself gasping for air. 

“Mia?” Taehyung’s panicked voice was the last sane thought that registered. 

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

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay? I can stay the night if you want. I’ll sleep in the spare bedroom . ” Taehyung whispered,  seated on the warm fluffy blanket that he’d managed to dig out of the closet in the spare bedroom. i was already tucked into the bed, fingers clutching the satin lined edges . 

i shook my head.

“I know how much you need your gazillion pillows. Go on... I’ll be fine.”

“i feel terrible. i pushed you into a panic attack.”

I waved off the guilty words. 

“You didn’t . i was already a little frayed and i guess i haven’t really been processing all the stuff between us the way i should have. i just got a little overwhelmed.” 

A panic attack. At the age of 32. The last time i had one I was twenty four. I wanted to crawl into the bed and never resurface. 

Taehyung’s gentle fingers , stroking my cheek brought me out of my own head. 

“I was so scared.” He said softly and my heart ached.

“I’m sorry i scared you.” I said apologetically, gripping his wrists lightly and stroking the skin there with my thumb. 

“I really want to stay. i don’t think I’ll be able to sleep if I go home right now.” He whispered. 

I bit my lips. 

“Okay... but... You need to hug something. To sleep. “ 

He grinned at that. 

“I’m old enough to survive one night without a pillow, Mia .” he chuckled. 

I flushed, sinking deeper into the covers.

“Okay.” 

“You don’t have to worry about the counselor thing. I’ll tell Lee we don’t want to do any-”

“No!!” I said quickly, a lot  louder than I’d intended. 

Taehyung blinked.

“I just... I realized that I haven’t been dealing with any of this...the right way. I’m so confused and disoriented all the time and I .. I don’t mind getting some help. To sort things out. Just for myself you know...without the pressure of trying to fix...well us.” I finished .

Taehyung gave me a wide smile before bending down and kissing my forehead.

“ Okay, Mia mine. Sleep well, and I’ll see you in the morning.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

[brave-symphonia]

I’ve listened to Hana no Uta covers plenty of times, and certain lines always get to me, but I finally went through it and, I love the HF songs a lot. I’m using an English cover for the lyrics because they more or less match up with the lyrics I found online.

All those days felt like beautiful dreams But you’re gone and I’m left all alone here Like a coward, smiling And missing your soft touch.

I think this line might be her missing the days before the Grail War. Like, she is fearing Shirou leaving and her losing his smile and his touch. She’s afraid it’s going to slip away like a pleasant dream.

And just like those dull and boring flowers fading I could just forget and hide my pain As I hid behind your back, I smiled And my tears took over

And I’m going to cry after reading this! Like, I think it’s saying that because Shirou was there she was able to leave behind all the pain and suffering and just cry into his shoulders. Smiling because she can hide behind Shirou, and feeling like she can finally cry. Like, the thought that she feels completely safe with Shirou, it really gets to me.

Thinking back to all of those days long gone now makes me strangely happy but also scared now Inside this tiny garden I just held my breath and sighed

And it sounds like the song is saying it gave her hope for the future. Hope that her life can return to how it was before the Matous adopted her, after she had lost all hope. She’s holding her breath, hoping it can be true.

And the mention of a tiny garden, like that she feels safe with Shirou and he gives her hope. But he’s still just a tiny garden. Just a tiny light in her life. She still has to deal with Shinji and Zouken and everything. But Shirou is a bright spot in her life.

All these petals, cold and fallen scattered through this endless night Almost like a snowstorm dark and lifeless painful to see all this white All I wanted was to just hold you and shelter you from all this pain Just to wash away all of your sorrows today

That last line, she just wants to get rid of any sadness he feels. She wants to do the same thing he did for her. Just make sure he’s always happy. She wants to protect him and make him happy. I think the petals are supposed to represent her? Like, she isn’t blooming, because of everything she’s gone through.

I wish we could go back to those calm days so much that my tears are falling

And it feels like this is her after she realizes the Grail War has started. She wants to go back to before that. When she thought they could just live together like they have been. And it makes her tear up thinking about that wish.

Even if our two hearts are both broken If we tried to combine them with our love I’m sure we could still make something That’s pure and beautiful

And this is why I love them so much. This section is the exact reason I love shirousakura. They’re both traumatized, broken people. But maybe if they can be together, they can have something nice together, maybe their two broken hearts can make a whole.

You reached your hand out so playfully and I clung on never thinking that I’d ever let go Since I’d finally found a warm light of hope in this damned godforsaken world desolate and cold

I love this line so much. Like, Shirou offered her a hand, and it probably didn’t mean much to him as indicated by the word “playfully”, but she clung onto it so tightly, it meant everything to her.

You had always promised that you’d be mine Don’t you remember when you said If I ever did something so bad and I hurt you, you’d be sad

I really like this line. If she does something bad, he’ll get mad at her. And then they can work on it afterwards. I love them. Like, every time the song gets here, it just gets to me so much. Especially starting off with that line, promising he’d be hers. It’s so sweet.

Cause of that now I’m sure that you’ll find me You don’t have to stay there all alone in that dark place, lost and so cold

This part really gets to me. “You don’t need to be somewhere that makes you feel lonely”, and about how she knows he’ll find her. Just, they don’t need to be lonely, they have each other. And they have faith that they can find each other and live with each other and be happy.

[gingerwritess]

Elucien week day 1: flower

I should not have written this today when I have like eleven finals and projects due in two days but oh well

I know it’s a day late but I also didn’t have anything for day 2 soooo enjoy!!

warnings: a little bit of ✨spice✨ and no editing :/

Elain could feel the air.

That was the first sign something was different here.

It was heavy, settling on her skin with the gentlest pressure, like the warm embrace of humidity, only without the sweltering heat.

The second sign was Lucien.

Her focus was drawn to Lucien’s fingers, wrapped tight around hers, as they passed a fallen branch that had been overtaken by moss. Long, slender, and strong, his fingers stroked slowly over her own, and her next breath stuttered.

A few flowers poked out from between the splinters of the fallen branch—black flowers.

A few flowers poked out from between the splinters of the fallen branch—black flowers.

“Wait,” Elain gasped, grabbing Lucien’s arm. “I want to see those.”

She pulled him along behind her and dropped to her knees by the blooms, gaping.

“Those are beautiful,” Lucien commented, reluctantly dropping her hand as she picked one from the dirt.

“They’re black,” Elain whispered in awe. She ran a gentle finger over the single curved petal. “They looked like calla lilies, don’t you think?”

Lucien chewed his lip and nodded. He was sweet like that. Pretending to know what she was talking about. Elain quite liked that about him.

“But they’re actually black,” she breathed, and held it to her nose to take a deep breath of it. “Mm. Black flowers don’t exist naturally in the human lands, all we got was dark purple or dark red. Never actually black.”

She took another breath of it, basking in the musky, heady scent of it, then thrust the flower under Lucien’s nose.

“It smells so good,” she moaned, picking another one and inhaling it again. “Mm. I could smell these all day.”

Lucien gave the flower an experimental sniff—then his eyes rolled back in his head. “Cauldron. Let’s bring some of these back.”

Elain nodded feverishly, hurrying to pull more of the blooms from the fallen branch and the moss surrounding it. Normally she would be gentler with them, snip the stems cleanly, or pull it out from the root; but these…gods, she wanted an armful of them, she wanted to bury her face in them.

The air pressed onto her skin heavier, and she felt a drop of sweat race down her neck.

A soft thump behind her told her Lucien had dropped to his knees, and then he was beside her, pressing against her side as he reached over her to help gather a bundle of the flowers.

“Aren’t flowers not supposed to grow in moss?”

He sounded out of breath—and his heartbeat…it throbbed through her head at a fevered pace, only getting faster as he added to the bundle of blooms in her arms.

“It’s–it’s difficult,” she replied breathlessly, sitting back on her heels as he worked. “I don’t know how it works here, though. Maybe…maybe there’s different rules.”

“Wild magic,” Lucien grunted—he was sweating, now, too, down the arch of his neck, and she wanted to lick—

“What?” she squeaked, cheeks turning cherry red.

“Maybe it’s a rogue bit of magic,” he continued. “You never know, in fae woods. Anything can grow.”

Her gaze dropped to his hands—he was gripping the bark of the fallen branch so tightly his knuckles paled. A vein pulsed in his neck and the corded muscles of his forearms were taut.

He still pressed into her side, pulling another flower from the moss. Every little place they touched was on fire, her arm burning as he brushed it and she caught his eyes flutter closed.

His hair gleamed molten in the scarce sunlight, every shade of red and blood and rubies taunting her as he moved. The muscles of his back rippled as he worked, even through his shirt, and his hands—gods, what was wrong with her—his hands were covered in dirt, slender and so big and she reached out and touched the back of his hand before she could think better of it.

His skin was feverishly hot.

And the moment her fingers brushed the back of his hand, he twisted, those long fingers wrapping around her wrist to pull her to the ground beneath him.

Her mouth dropped open in the faintest gasp—she’d never seen him from this angle.

Braced above her. Hands pinning her wrists down.

Her face, her chest, her skin, her everything heated. She knew it wasn’t embarrassment.

His blood red hair fell around their faces, and it was so strange to see it so loose, so unbound, falling in his face so untamed, that Elain caught her bottom lip between her teeth and reached up to touch his hair.

“What is this,” she breathed, running her fingers through his hair, the locks slipping through them like molten metal.

He blinked—and his face shifted in an instant, falling from something feral to something horrified as he realized the position he’d put them in.

“Sorry,” he gasped, letting go of her wrist and jolting away from her. The black, beautiful flowers, dropped and forgotten the moment he pulled her under him, littered the moss around them.

“I’m so sorry,” he panted, reaching to help her sit up, his hands trembling. “Gods, I don’t—I’m so sorry, I don’t know what came over me—”

Elain didn’t know either, but she felt it. Everywhere.

“I feel it, too,” she whispered, and grabbed his hand and pressed it to her chest, right above her heart.

Lucien looked like he’d stopped breathing.

“What are you doing?”

“I don’t know.” She didn’t want to break this heady spell by speaking louder than a whisper. They were face to face, kneeling in the mossy forest ground, black calla lilies surrounding them, and she leaned just a bit closer, touching her forehead to his.

His lips glistened in the scarce sunlight.

She could hear his gold eye whirring wildly in its socket, but he remained silent, barely breathing, watching as she stared at his parted lips.

“I think…I think it’s the flowers,” Lucien rasped, his hand still hot on her chest. “Definitely ancient magic.”

Cauldron, she loved the way his mouth moved. She could listen to him and watch him talk for hours, mapping the movements of those full lips, the crooked grins he gave her, the way his scar moved with his face.

“You’re ancient magic,” she whispered, and their noses bumped. “Untamed.”

Elain tilted her head and flicked her tongue against his scar.

The way he whispered a pleading curse under his breath set her on fire.

“Wild,” she murmured, and the softest push on his shoulders had him sitting against the fallen branch as she climbed onto his lap and licked his neck. “Sacred.”

“Elain,” he groaned, dirty hands fisting in the moss under him. “Cauldron—”

Gods, those lips. “Say it again,” she said breathlessly, her hands curling into his hair. “My name.”

“Elain.” His eyes were closed.

She hadn’t even kissed him and he was writhing and moaning her name.

“Elain, please—”

She was certain she should be feeling very ashamed for this, for doing this to him, with him, and out in the open air, too—but the world was alight in this forest, and he was here, begging for her, and gods, she needed him.

“Flowers,” Lucien panted, his head thrown back against the branch. His fingers dug into her hips as she leaned back down to his neck. “It’s—mother—flowers, Elain—”

She answered on a heady sigh, grabbing a handful of the flowers he wanted and shoving them into the v of his loose shirt. “Here—they look good, you look—you’re…”

She couldn’t think straight. Between the feel of him, the scent of him, the taste of him, and the scent of those intoxicating flowers, her mind had emptied of every thought but him and the heat coursing through her.

“I’ll winnow,” he gasped, even as he clawed at her muslin dress and curled a dirty hand in her hair.

His body jerked under her—then the whole world followed, and she clung to him, her face buried in the crook of his neck, breathing in the crisp autumn scent of him.

She landed hard on top of him, and he let out a quiet grunt over her shoulder, one of his hands still gripping her waist while the other fisted her hair.

Elain froze as cool, clean air filled her and danced across her skin.

The manor. They were back at the Spring manor, laying together on the sprawling lawn.

What…had she done.

She threw herself off of Lucien and scrambled away from him, taking in the state of him, his tousled hair, flushed cheeks, heaving chest. “I’m so sorry,” she blurted, trying to fix her dress and hair. “I’m so sorry, Lucien, I didn’t mean to do that, I’m so sorry, I don’t—”

“Flowers.”

It came out on a laugh, his eyes still closed.

“What?” Elain asked, distraught as she watched him laugh on the grass. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“It was—” he grunted as he pulled himself upright, and took out one of the black flowers she’d tucked in his shirt. “The flowers. Some kind of intoxicant, or a spell, I’m sure.”

She gaped at him. “Really?”

He gave her a small smile, and took the flowers from out of his shirt. “Really.”

“I’m still sorry,” Elain insisted, refusing to look him in the eye. Cauldron, she’d jumped him like a feral beast. “I can’t believe—I’m not like that, you know? I’m so sorry I did that, I—”

Lucien stood as she rambled, gathering the remaining flowers and coming over to press a soft kiss to her cheek. “What do you say we give these to Nesta and Cassian in a bouquet the next time there’s a family dinner?”

Her excuses and apologies stuttered to a halt—and she giggled. Clapped a hand over her furiously flushed face and laughed. “Oh, definitely. That’ll keep things exciting.”

He was so good at that; reminding her that he was in no hurry to rush this delicate sprout of a relationship they had. And what she’d been doing—or about to do—in that forest was certainly rushing things.

She fell into step beside him, still staring at the ground, as he headed back to the manor, talking about how he must wash his hands, for no gentleman should ever have dirty hands for this long a time should he need to use them.

He noticed her silence, or lack of laughter at his antics, and glanced down at her.

“Don’t worry about it,” he murmured, nudging her arm with his own. “You did nothing wrong. Between the flowers and my devilish good looks I’m shocked we made it back with our clothes on.”

She glared at him, and he grinned right back.

“I feel terrible,” Elain insisted. “I completely…lost control. I’ve never done that. I’m sorry you had to see me like–like that.”

Lucien hummed. “I’m not.”

“Lucien!”

He laughed, reaching down to take her hand in his. “You have nothing to be embarrassed about, ashamed of, or to apologize for. We both lost it a bit thanks to these flowers here, but you never even kissed me.”

The way he said it, with the definitive pout at the end, his shoulders sagging a little bit—Elain frowned as he brought her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles with a grin.

“No need to sound so disappointed.”

—

@elucienweek

[flesheatinglette]

----It's been a long while but I wrote a fanfic

Enjoy! ----

-Fuugen-Intoxicating Moments

The warm sticky air hung heavy in the night making the three traveling companions grateful they were able to pull together some cash to afford some decent lodgings. Fuu was very grateful to be able to sleep without being eaten alive by bugs. The few odd jobs helped them accumulate a small savings before setting off again in the morning.

Mugen arrived at the room with several pots of sake in his arms kicking his sandals off.

“Hey!” Fuu screeched “ we aren’t supposed to be spending money on that!”

“Calm down we have plenty left over.”He rolled his eyes, sitting in the center of The room.

Placing the booze in front of him, he removed his red oversized over shirt. “ it’s our last night here that’s enough of a reason to drink for me. Maybe you should have some too it might make you more tolerable to be around.” He teased popping open the quark of the first bottle.

She huffed watching Jin settle in across from Mugen retrieving a small saucer cup to enjoy some of the sake as well.

In a show of reluctant compliance, Fuu plopped down next to Mugen with a huff.

Grabbing her saucer cup and the neck of the bottle she tipped it over slightly letting the liquid trickle out into the cup.

————————————

The moon hung high as the sounds of crickets and frogs hummed outside.

After a few hours, empty discarded jugs were spewed across the floor. Poor Jin, now propped up against the wall, his head had been spinning and couldn’t keep conscious.

“Damn you two drank up a lot of my booze...Did Jin pass out? Good grief...” Mugen grumbled as he swished around the last jug to hear the half-empty sloshing noise it made before pouring himself another cup.

Fuu swigged back what was left in her cup and let out a dramatic sigh after the liquid slid down her throat. The once burning sensation has long become numbed out with a lot of her mind. All she could feel was how warm her face had gotten.

“ Don’t complain, I worked for that money too! I wanna celebrate~” she slurred reaching for the jug in front of Mugen sloppily pointing herself another drink.

“ Not what I would call a celebration. There’s not even any women here to get things going.” the crude man complained lowering his cup from his lips.

“Well then, what would you call me...” she blurted out glaring over at him.

“Pfft! A plank of wood that’s a pain in my ass.” He cracked without any hesitation.

Fuu’s eyebrow twitched as a thought crept into her mind. “I got it...You just can’t handle a woman like me.” She said in a snooty tone, lifting her drink once more to her lips, sipping half of it down before lazily placing the cup to the side.

“Teh, there’s nothing to handle.” He stated bluntly shooting a look over to her flushed face in time to see her grab at the neck of her kimono revealing the pale skin of her shoulder and collarbone.

“So you’re telling me you’re not a man. “ she challenged with a sly smirk on her face.

“Fuu that’s enough.” Mugen said in a low tone.

Slightly stumbling, the inebriated girl leaned over on her knees. Supporting her weight on her right arm. She reached out with her free hand gently grabbing onto a tuff of wild hair beside his face.

“Awe don’t be scared I don’t bite~” she giggled. Twirling his hair in between her fingers, a sense of pride bloomed as she assumed he was becoming flustered.

In a quick movement, Mugen grabbed her hand from his hair and lunged her back pinning her to the ground with a thud. He towered over her, engulfing her form in his shadow, as a wicked grin came over his lips.

Clutching tighter he looked over her small frame, tracing each detail with his eyes slowly up to her face.

“You know what kind of man I am you little bitch. You should be the one who’s scared.” He growled as his hand shifted from pinning down her arm to clenching around her throat. “Are you really that clueless about what kind of monster I am?”

The quick movement made her head spin. Her eyes looked over his face as her fingertips slid slowly over his scarred knuckles around her neck.

“After all this time, I know exactly who you are...” her voice hitched, sliding her hand to the top of his hand “ I’ve seen you fight, steal, and even kill recklessly..but..” Fuu’s soft fingertips left his hand and softly brushed against Mugen’s stubbled cheek. “But I know you won’t hurt me because we care about each other.” the stubborn girl said with no doubt behind her eyes.

His face couldn’t hide the small shock those words caused. Feeling this soft warm touch brought flashbacks to the blood-soaked riverside and the words from the blind assassin.

“Inside of you looms a simmering storm of hatred and rage. But perhaps what I’m actually sensing is sadness. It’s as if you’ve never once been loved by anyone. It’s as if you’re just like me.”

Memories of this headstrong girl, throwing herself between him and the assassin’s almost killing blow, had been tucked into the back of his mind. Along with the cold upsetting rage of watching Sara die at his hands.

Mugen’s hand loosened, adjusting to rest on Fuu’s collarbone. Feeling the thump of her heart under his palm, he slowly leaned over, gently placing his forehead on hers.

Her heartbeat raced as her finger danced up the side of his prickly face brushing into his hair.

“Mugen..” she whispered feeling his warm breath on her face.

“I can’t take this shit.” He murmured as his dark eyes closed. Hearing his name said so sweetly sent a chill through him. Removing his hand from her heaving chest Mugen got to his feet and swiftly made his way outside.

She laid there for a moment stunned by his reaction. Before she could fully think about what she was doing, she was fixing her kimono, running out the door after him.

“H-hey! What's your deal Mugen?!” she yelled out snatching onto the back end of his shirt.

“My deal?! What about yours? Are you messin’ with me? Your little brain is filled to the brim with sake, it's making it hard for you to think!” He shouted turning towards her.

With watering eyes, Fuu tugged harder at his shirt “Are you an idiot? Are my signals not strong enough to get through that thick skull of yours?!” her voice shuttered as she exhaled.

Mugen stood there silent for a moment studying her face, looking at the reflection of the moon’s light in her eyes. His mind was a buzz with her words but a tugging feeling in his gut held him back. “Look girlie, I’m not here to be your drunken mistake that you end up regretting. You wouldn't look at me with those doe eyes for a second if you were sober..so I’m out of here till you can get your mind back to normal. “ the stubborn man snapped.

With furl brows Fuu pushed Mugen into the support beam of the awning over the walkway. “Listen here mister morals!”She stumbled against him keeping eye contact. “Even when my mind is ‘normal’ I still finding myself looking for you or thinking about you.” her eyes stayed serious as she grasped the neck of his white sleeveless shirt. “I use to think it was because of how much you annoy me. But the more I watched you run off after women with lust in your eyes, I felt this endless clench in my throat that would spread to my chest. I can’t make these feelings stop. I can’t help it...”

Before he could proses what she was saying the girl pushed up on her toes yanking his collar towards herself. Soft lips pressed against his. The warmth of her mouth begging for him to consume her made his head blank out for a moment. His hands raised to his sides before he gave in. Grasping at her shoulders, adjusting himself, he pulled her light body into his chest. Pushing off the post, almost lifting her feet from the ground, he stepped forward shifting the control to him.

The sake taste of his lips was intoxicating on their own. Releasing the shirt her arms slid up around his neck. Feeling his big hands wander over her back as his body pushes against hers made her whole being as warm as her face. As his tongue slipped through her lips her eyes became alert. Fuu had never kissed like this before. Only small peck to childhood crushes. Feeling his experience made her heart thump with excitement as his hands reached and grasped her hips. The blush on her cheeks intensified making her head burn as her eyes narrowed offering her tongue to his.

The wild-haired man’s desire began to boil as he felt her give in to him. A grunt slipped feeling her slick tongue encouraged him. He slowly pulled away looking from her kiss swollen lips to her longing eyes. Mugen’s calloused hands went from her hips to cup her pale face as he pulled his mind together.

“Mugen..p-please...I wanna kiss you more.” Fuu said in a soft whimper. Her mind began to go white as she clung to him trying to keep her focus between his eyes and lips. Her legs were like jelly mostly holding herself up by his neck.

“I’m going to regret this in the morning... I know am... We need to go back to the room.” Mugen groaned placing his hands on her arms putting her back on her feet. Watching her stumble in place he let out a frustrated sigh. In one motion he lifted her into his arms. Without another word, Mugen walked into their room where Jin was still passed out. Squatting down he placed the girl's small frame onto a premade futon. “You need to get some sleep.” He said looking at threw half-lidded eyes.

The moments between being tasting Mugen’s fiery kisses and laying down on the futon were blank in her mind. Seeing him over her with that look sent pain through her heart. As he shifted to stand she reached out grabbing onto his arm. “P-please don’t go... Stay with me.” Her voice was almost a whisper as she tugged at him weakly towards the futon. Fuu's grip slightly clenched looking over his face.

Truthfully he didn’t want to restrain himself. Seeing her in front of him made it harder not to lose all control and devour her leaving his mark and scent throughout every fiber of her being. A small nagging fear kept him in its grasp making his mind reconsider his basic instinct. “Damn it... Fine...” he growled flopping down on his side next to her propping his head on his hand supported by his elbow. “But we are going to sleep...”

Fuu looked him over sliding into him lacing her arms through the triangle opening of his supporting arm and over the other side of his neck. Planting small kisses up his collarbone to his neck, she could feel his blood rushing under her lips warming them with each pump.

Mugen reached over with his free arm pulling out her hair sticks one by one letting the strands fall free under his nose. Her sweet smell mixed with the small impact of each kiss threatened to fog his mind. He looked down at her tossing the hair sticks to the side as their eyes connected.

Fuu lifted her jaw to his, planting a delicate unsure peck on his bottom lip.

Mugen’s free hand found itself running through her hair, as he leaned in closer, holding her lips to his for a moment longer. They slowly broke the kiss pulling back without words.

Her head nestled down in the space between his arm and his chest. The mix of the alcohol and his scent relaxed her mind enough to fall asleep. Her arms went limp retreating to the space between them, feebly grasping at his shirt to make sure he didn’t leave.

Watching her chest softly rise and fall as she slept lulled his tired mind to sleep soon after her.

—————————————

Day brake began to creep in as the outside creatures began to wake. Jin’s head throbbed as he made it to his feet completely out of it. The hungover samurai left the room to make his way to the public bathhouse to freshen up before they would have to continue their journey.

Mugen hadn’t moved all night keeping his back to the door as he listened to Jin leave. Hearing the door close he leaned a bit to peak over his shoulder.

A small lazy hand lifted touching his face turning his attention back to the half-sleeping girl next to him. “M-Mugen..” a faint breath escaped her lips as her eyes stayed closed.

He let out a huff before adjusting himself to a more comfortable position. Wrapping his arms around her, he held her close to his chest feeling her give in to him. Feeling the warmth of her body snuggle on him, their breath sank together as they fell back asleep.

[cafeacademia]

Love Between The Pages | Chapter 3

Blaise Zabini x Reader

Chapter Summary: You and Blaise enjoy an afternoon in the warmth of spring with your book club, the two of you becoming closer and your mind terribly aware that it might all end with the end of his detention.

Warnings: Nothing, just fluff, very soft chapter, a tiny bit of romance.

Word count: Approx 2000

A/N: Hi loves, here's the third chapter!! I had initially intended to include a mildly angsty scene in this chapter, but I just couldn't fit it in and maintain the soft vibes I've been going for with this series. I hope you enjoy none the less! The next part will be the last full part and then it'll be followed up by a little epilogue!

The warm afternoon sun and a light, cool breeze made the grounds the perfect spot to enjoy the hour. It was warm, but not too hot and neither was it cold. “If we go a bit further down, we can hear the lake.” Neville said over his shoulder to the rest of the group as Theo walked along beside him, everyone happily following Neville closer to the lake shore.

“It’s pretty out here, isn’t it?” Cho asked, looking over at Draco who just sort of shrugged at her. “It’s alright I suppose.” He replied. “Oh shut up, we all know you like it, you can admit it.” Ginny teased, the girls giggling at the way Draco playfully rolled his eyes at them, too amused to really be mad.

“It really is nice out here.” You said, glancing up at Blaise as you walked next to each other, a little behind the others. “I can’t believe you never thought of it.” He chuckled. And Blaise had been right, it would be lovely to read out in the afternoon sun on a warm spring day, with a gentle breeze and the lapping of the lake against the shore. The birds flitting about added to the ambience, along with the distant cheer and laughter coming from the quidditch practice that was taking place in the distance, the odd giggle and shriek of laughter bringing the grounds to life as a group of first years bounded down to see Hagrid.

Following the others down, you felt the soft brush of Blaise’s hand against yours, the back of his fingers trailing over yours. It made butterflies blossom in your chest, your heart flipping as you glanced down at his gentle touch. Looking up at him, flustered and shy, you could barely look him in the eyes and you hoped, at least for a moment that he didn’t notice what he did to you, that he didn’t realise what kind of feelings you felt when his hand touched yours like that.

Was this more than just a little crush, you wondered. Was it more than just attraction when you thought of someone nearly all the time? Their voice on your mind, their mannerisms and things they would say playing in your mind over and over. Perhaps it was more.

“Here’s a good spot.” Neville sighed contentedly as he pulled his bag off his shoulders and placed it down on the grass below a tree before lowering himself onto the grass, his actions pulling you out of your little daze and your hand parted from Blaise’s.

Theo sat next to Neville, the pair having slowly become more friendly with each other over their interest in Herbology and books. And who would have known that Theodore Nott had an interest in Herbology, had it not been for Neville who saw it in him? Theo seemed to admire Neville’s attentiveness to character, seemed to admire his kind, nurturing nature. Perhaps that was what drew him towards the Gryffindor, and gave him the patience to give the friendship a chance.

Settling down next to Blaise beneath a tree, you pulled your copy of The Hobbit into your lap as he got himself comfortable, leaning back against the old oak tree. “The Hobbit, have you read it before?” Blaise asked as he looked over your shoulder, your eyes going wide with excitement. “Once, yes.” You nodded. “Have you read Little Women too?” He asked as he lifted the copy of Little Women he had borrowed from the library. “I’ve read that too.” You smiled shyly, looking down at your book. “I think it’s nice, it’s sweet actually.” Blaise replied. “What do you mean?” It came out quieter than expected, but not so quiet he hadn’t heard you. “That you read so much, that you know the muggle fiction in the library so well.” He chuckled softly.

Blaise often forgot that your upbringing had not been like his. While he was brought up with the reality of his abilities and those around him, you were unbeknown to the world of witchcraft and wizardry. For you, it was only being alive in the books you read, it was nothing but a fantasy to you. Sometimes he wished he had lived like you, in innocence growing up with nothing more thrilling than a muggle book to delve into, with fantasies he could not fathom. He wondered what it was like when you found out you were a witch and to have the fantasies of magic suddenly become a reality for you too.

Looking over at you, Blaise found himself unable to look away. It was the way you lazily propped yourself up against the tree beside him, one hand on the page of your book while the other gently slid between the soft blades of grass, your fingers idly trailing gently over daisy heads that bloomed beneath the tree. It was the late afternoon light that cast a golden glow over you, highlighting your beauty in every way.

Perhaps it was the way his heart fluttered or the light airy feeling he got when you smiled at him. Or perhaps it was the way you shone so brightly for someone who was so shy and quiet. Whatever it was, a thought crossed his mind in that moment, one he knew only as fact. She has stolen my heart.

It was then that you looked up from your book, having felt his gaze on you. He met your eyes with a flash of embarrassment before he gave you his lopsided charming smile that never seemed to fail in melting you.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" You asked softly.

"Like what?" Blaise countered.

"Like you're-." In love. You stopped yourself, the words unable to roll off your tongue. What if it wasn't love? What if it was just curiosity?

"Like I'm what?" Blaise prompted, his fingers reaching across the grass and gently brushing against yours, rising the warmth through you again. It was confusing, yet exhilarating and so sweet all at the same time.

The words played on your lips, tangible yet out of reach. They clung to you. What if it wasn't love?

"Nothing, I just meant..." You trailed off.

But as you questioned it, you wondered more now; what if it was love?

Between the longing gazes, the need to be near each other, the soft barely there touches and the way you both naturally seemed to look for each other in a room. Maybe it was love.

But as the comfortable silence took over and Blaise gazed at you with a soft smirk, he realised he didn’t need the answer. He knew what you were going to say, what was sitting on the tip of your tongue, too shy to be put into words.

Instead of trying to pry words from you or formulate the ones he was not sure he could just yet, Blaise gently slid his fingers through the soft blades of grass, his fingertips lightly brushing over the back of your hand. You looked up at him, a sweet expression about you, somewhere between curiosity and something flustered, wanting. It was soft, the way he took your hand in his, gentle and sweet as if he thought he might hurt you with the slightest movement, his fingers gently grasping your hand in his, resting in the cool grass.

You gazed up at him, eyes full of something, but they told him everything. The gentle lap of the water on the lake shore, the soft chatter of the birds in the trees and the way the breeze rustled through the leaves. The fresh spring scent, it smelled of green, of flowers, of fresh water. It was the light salt smell of the silt that collected on the bank, the woody scent of the tree that you both leaned against. And then there was the feeling, the feeling Blaise brought you, the butterflies that fluttered through you at the way he smiled, the way he gazed at you as if you were the only one there.

You read like that for a while, with your book in your lap, one hand turning the pages while your other was resting in Blaise’s gentle grasp, his thumb lightly tracing over the back of your hand, your fingers adjusting around his hand now and again, relaxing and becoming more comfortable with the soft touch.

And even when the low toll of the clock tower bell rang to signal the turn of the hour, accompanied by the soft shuffling of pages and clothes against grass, the quiet chatter of your friends as they gathered their things together, you stayed together for a moment longer.

“Come on, I’ll walk you back to your common room.” Blaise suggested as he pulled away from you, putting his book away. And even though you could have spent the whole night out in the grounds by his side, you knew you could not. It would soon be time for dinner and after that you knew you had other things you needed to do before tomorrow for class. “I’d like that.” You nodded, reaching for your bag and tucking your book away.

Blaise got to his feet first, throwing his bag over his shoulder before he held out both of his hands to help you up. And you gently placed your hands in his, letting him help you to your feet, his gentle touch not leaving yours for a moment, even after you were standing.

Taking your bag and adjusting it on your shoulders, you began to walk side by side, your friends having already started walking back up the grounds towards the stone circle. “Last week is your last meeting with us.” You sighed, intending it not to sound as if you were as disappointed as you felt, but Blaise heard the way it hurt to say it out loud, the longing hope that it might not end, especially not so soon. “And we’ll make it the best, won’t we?” Blaise gently nudged your arm. “I suppose we will.” You nodded as you both continued up the hill, your mind thinking up all manner of ideas of what you could do for the last meeting the boys were there for.

You didn’t want them to leave. Of course at first you had been thinking the same as Ginny had said, it felt as if you were the ones being punished for the boys attacking your group. But it quickly became apparent that perhaps the book club was just as much of a safe space for the boys as it was for you and your friends. And you hoped at least, that they liked it enough to stay after their last meeting, but there was no way you could know for sure and part of you was afraid to ask.

You heard a joyful shriek of laughter as you passed through the stone circle, looking up ahead to see Draco and Ginny laughing with their heads thrown back about something that Theo had said, Cho unable to stop herself from giggling. It made you smile. Perhaps it wouldn’t be the same without the boys if they left, at least you felt like something would be missing.

And as you walked up the steps towards your common room, your hands brushing together, fingers linking gently and soft glances cast between you, you became lost in your thoughts.

“What’s on your mind, sweetheart?” Blaise asked as you both stopped outside of the common room door, his breath catching in his throat at the accidental use of the name. It was true though, you were a sweetheart in every sense of the word, darling, kind, gentle, quiet. There was no other word to describe you the way Blaise wanted to. Meeting his gaze, your smile reaching your eyes with a loving warmth, you shook your head. “Nothing at all.” You lied. He didn’t believe you, but he didn’t mind, they weren’t his to be shared. “Alright, I’ll see you around then.” Blaise smiled, gently squeezing your hand. “Yes,” You paused, the thought again on your mind. What if it wasn’t love? “See you later.” Were your last words before your hands parted and you took one last look at Blaise before you turned away to walk towards the Ravenclaw common room door. And you wondered again; what if it was love?

Blaise Zabini Taglist (OPEN):

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[queenmuzz]

Heat of the Moment

A Dante x Reader Valentine’s Day Special!

Your mom had always told everyone, in a disapproving tone, that you were too impulsive for your own good.  You darted into the road to get a runaway ball.  You bought that awesome looking jacket, without checking to see if it was on sale.  And now, because you were craving pizza, and didn’t want to shell out the four bucks extra for delivery, you were in a mighty fine pickle.

You decided that taking the deserted looking street at near midnight, just to shave a few minutes off your walk to Angelo’s Pizzeria was a perfectly splendid idea.  So splendid, you didn’t notice the shadowy figures following you, until you were grabbed from behind, and a cloth covered with some sort of chemical was placed over your screaming mouth.

So now, here you stood, or rather...laid, on cold grey stone, that seemed to leech all warmth away from your flesh.  It was still dark, but illuminated by torches, you seemed to be surrounded by columns of stone, like you were in some knock off kid sized version of Stonehenge.  You immediately attempted to get up, only to find to your irritation, your wrists and ankles were bound by industrial grade chains.   

“The offering has awoken!” called out a woman’s voice, and from the darkness, like the damn Ringwraiths from Lord of the Rings, nine cloaked figures came out of the darkness.  You tried to make out their faces, but both their pitch black cloaks, and blood red masks hid everything about them.

“Brothers and Sisters, we are gathered here tonight to call forth from the very bones of the earth, a power far greater than any human can imagine.  The stars have aligned, the incense has been lit.  All now,” she motioned to the cultist beside her, who handed her a leatherbound book, “Is to speak the incantations, and complete the rituals.”

And then, with the help of her assistant, the group began to chant.  You had no idea of what was being spoken, but it sounded Latin. 

“Really... Latin?  Guys, there are a tonne of other languages you could use!  What happened to originality?!” you grumbled, but while you could feel their glares, none stopped their inane chants

Upon each pillar,  a letter lit up, one at a time.  You couldn’t recognize the script, but it looked like a five year old’s attempt to write Hebrew. For some reason, that irked you. This makes no sense.  Latin is an Indo-European language, and Hebrew is a totally different family! These idiots are mixing everything up!.

But the incantation seemed to do the trick, and the flames grew, and changed to a sickly green colour.  And now, all these cultists raised their arms in exultation 

“Lord of the Underworld, we present you this offering, a Virgin Offering, for you to consume!” The lead cultist chanted.

“Wait!” you blurted out, in a desperate attempt to avert your fate, “I’m not a virgin!  I’ve had sex before, dozens...no, hundreds of times!”

Her assistant leaned over you, their mask barely concealing his skepticism.

“Name one person you have laid with,” he tested.

“Well…” Your mind was blank, and so you went with the first thing that shot through your brain.

“Your mom, for starters.”

You could have slapped yourself for such a dumb comeback, had your wrists not being tied up, but you needn’t have worried about not getting slapped.  The cultist’s lips twisted into a snarl, and you felt white hot pain radiating from your cheek, and the taste of blood filling your mouth.  Even though it hurt like hell, one part of you was mentally high fiving at that comeback.  His hand raised up one more time, to give another strike, but the leader quickly grabbed his wrist.

“Calm yourself, brother… the offering must remain undamaged. Besides,” and you could swear you  heard a smirk in her voice, “It’s not their body that must be virginal, it’s the blood.”

Well shit, you thought, as you placed your burning cheek against the cool stone to relieve the pain.  

The ritual continued.  “We humble servants provide both the firstfruits of this offering to open the way.”  The woman took out a jet black dagger, and approached you with steady steps.  Would she cut out your heart, Temple of Doom style?  Rip out your entrails?  Slit your throat?  All you could hope was that it would be quick and painless.  

What you hadn’t expected was for her to grab one of your restrained hands and with surprisingly gentleness placed the edge of the obsidian blades against your palm.

As she dragged the razor sharp edge, a line of crimson bloomed, like a trail of bubbles.  It almost didn’t hurt, but you couldn’t help but get upset.  All this pomp and ceremony, and they were just giving you a cut that would irritate you for weeks...if you lived that long. Whatever happens, you said as the cultist began using your blood to paint the two largest stone pillars, in a perverse parody of the Passover ritual, I hope whatever these bastards are summoning crushes them.

“COME FORTH!” The whole group chanted in unison, “Taste the blood… DEVOUR THE FLESH!”

And without warning, the blood...YOUR blood, burst into flame, racing up the pillars as if gasoline had been pumping through your veins.  At the top, the flames connected and  formed a gateway...a hellgate.  And within it, an orb, an inferno expanded...and a roar that sounded nothing like any earthbound animal emanated.

And then, an explosion of heat and sulfur knocked down the stones, and the cultists, sending the leader flying back several feet.  Only you, chained to the granite altar, remained in place.

You squinted as the searing light dissipated.  Among the now dying flames stood, or hovered… a demonic sight.  You could swear you saw the air distort from the heat that seemed to generate from within his chest.  Four leathery wings splayed out, the inner skin swirling designs constantly shifting, almost hypnotising.  And the horns!  A good foot long that curved  and twisted, glowing like charred wood both above and around his face. A face that reminded what was in front of you.  A demon.  Teeth as long and sharp as paring knives, eyes glowing like the pits of hell.  As if Satan himself had come up from the depths.  And for all you knew… he probably had.

You heard the sound of crumpled paper.  “Oh man,” the demon rumbled, his voice distorted by the sound of the exhaust coming from between his teeth, “I was just getting to the good part…”

“Oh Great and Powerful Lord…”  the devil stared at the surrounding area, at the the cultists that had recovered began following their leader’s motions and bowed prostrate on the ground, and you still chained.  It was hard to make out his expression, but it seemed like...surprise?

 “We are your most humble servants,” the leader continued,  “All we ask...is a scrap of your power...a trifle for one such as you, as payment for summoning you..My Lord?”

The demon didn’t even spare a second glance as he strode past her, past the other shrouded forms, and made a beeline towards you.  This was it, you thought, time to come up with a witty parting remark. But of course, your impulsive nature wouldn’t cooperate right now.  At least the demon seemed to be the ‘fire and fury’ style, he would probably consume you quickly.

He towered over you, and even now, the stone, which had been ice cold the entire time, began to heat up beneath you...sweat, both from terror, and the inferno looming above you,  beaded on your forehead.  

“My Lord?” the assistant asked, “Is the offering suitable for your arrival?  They have a wicked tongue, but they are perfect for summoning.

“I think you got it all wrong buddy,” the demon turned his eyes on the unholy congregation, and strangely, a chill appeared in the air, “You guys didn’t summon me….” A razor claw extended out and pointed at you, “THEY did… and if they summoned me…” the cultists slowly became aware of what he was implying, the quicker ones started making a run for it, “YOU guys must be the offering!  Who’s volunteering first?”

The answer was nine sets of panicking feet trying to sprint out of the stone circle.  The demon glanced back at you, “You might want to cover your eyes for this, it’s gonna get a little messy,” and with the speed of a racing forest fire, he charged, blades of superheated air swirling around him.  

The scream of the lead cultist was enough for you to clench your eyes shut, and then followed by a multiple of cries of terror and death, as the coppery scent of blood, not your own this time, scented the air.

A few minutes later, there was nothing but silence, except the sound of boots on gravel.  You couldn’t help it, you took a peek.

Instead of the cultists, or the demon, there was just a guy, shaggy white haired, with a worn t-shirt that clung juuuuust right against his broad chest, and a smile on his face.  You looked around, trying to find either a surviving cultist, or the demon, but all you could see in the darkness were void black shapes, lying on the grounds, their robes moving slightly in the breeze.

“That can’t be comfortable, let’s get you out of there,” the man said, and without a hint of effort, he gently grasped your hands, and with the other, he gave a quick yank.  Immediately the sound of snapping metal, and to your amazement, your arms were free.  And if you had thought he had done a sleight of hand with those chains, the way he effortlessly ripped the chains around your ankles off immediately clued you in that this man was more than he seemed.

You rubbed your wrists as you slowly sat up, staring at him. “Who are...you?”

“Ah, yeah...forgot to introduce myself in the whole hubbub.  Cultists always ruining get togethers.”  He stuck out his hand, “Name’s Dante.”  And as you shook his hand, with your uninjured one, you noticed that for a brief moment,  his eyes momentarily glowed red, like embers.  Embers that had once been blazing coals.

He must have seen the flash of panic in your eyes, because he backed away, his hands raised in surrender. 

“Don’t worry!  I ain’t going to hurt you… yeah, I’m the demon those jackasses called for” He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, “but I’m not the ‘MUST RULE THE WORLD’ type, I usually am the one people call to get rid of what was being summoned, not actually BEING the ‘sommonee.’  Wait, is that the correct term?”  He paused for a moment to think it over, before he seemed to come back to the present. “Anyways, I was just relaxing in my office, reading a magazine, and then POOF, I’m in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by people with horrible sense of fashion.  Speaking of my magazine...where did I put it?”

You saw the magazine, its pages fluttering in the wind, and picked it up.  A copy of ‘Half Cocked’, and on its cover, a buxom young brunette was getting a bit too friendly with a revolver,  alongside a well toned man wearing little more than a bandolier.

“Oh thanks!… that” he quickly snatched it out of your hands,  “I read it mainly for the articles…” he explained lamely, before hurriedly shoving it in his back pocket, as he looked you up and down. “Besides...I got a feeling I won’t need it much anymore…”  And in the flaming remnants of ritual, you swore you saw him turn a shade of pink...although that could just be the fire.

“Welp,”  He stretched, “You ready to blow this popsicle stand?  All that work made me famished.”

You had no idea where the hell you were, but you were still ravenously hungry.  Which reminded you how you got into this mess in the first place.

“I could go for some pizza or-”

You felt a blaze of warmth, and suddenly you felt your legs swept under you, and you looked up at Dante, now back to his demonic form carrying you bridal style.  But no longer did it strike fear in you, just a sense of awe...and admiration

“You truly know how to get to this demon’s heart,” he practically purred, and with a slight grunt, he leapt up and started flying towards the nearest collection of lights on the horizon.  “Pizza it is, then!”

Despite the remnant of chill from spending God knows how long on that stone, and the brisk breeze of the upper atmosphere blowing past you, you didn’t feel a little bit cold. It was like being held by a flying furnace.

“You know Dante….” you spoke, barely audible above the wind.

“Hm?”

“You’re pretty hot.”  Instantly, you realized what you had said, and would have preferred him to just drop you to your death at this very moment.

You heard him chuckle.

“Yeah, this form runs a bit warm….”

And even though he didn’t say it, you were almost certain he knew exactly what you meant.