alchemist767676 · 3 days ago
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Scarlet Embers
My dearest Monica— Monica stared at the letter in her hands with wide, uncomprehending eyes and told herself that she would not cry. —I'm overjoyed to hear news of your safe return, but I'm afraid that I must deliver to you terrible news— She hadn't wept in years, not since her time chained up in that horrible cell knowing that her death was rapidly approaching. —I'm afraid that your father was caught in the middle of a skirmish between bandits and students from Garreg Mach two months ago—
She hadn't shed any tears when she felt the Ashen Demon's sword pierce her heart or when Shez knelt over her, a look of distraught horror on her face. —it seems that he had gotten caught up in a bit of bad business while he was trying to find where you had been taken— She'd kept a straight face through everything that had happened since—her friends looking at her with expressions of barely concealed loathing, having to endure the monsters that kidnapped and tormented her for months looking at her like she was one of them… Even knowing that Lady Edelgard despised her. —we should have told you sooner, and I deeply regret that you have to learn about it this way— This shouldn't even hurt very much, it's not like she was close to her father or anything. It had been months—oh, Goddess, she hadn't seen her father in months—since she last talked to him and she was perfectly okay with that. But knowing— —your father was killed in the fighting.
She would never see him again. She felt her eyes starting to sting and she did her best to hold it in. She would not cry here—she would not. She kept telling herself this, even as she felt her shoulders shake with the effort of holding it in, even as she felt the tremble in her throat as a sob desperately fought to escape it. She kept telling herself this even as the first tear fell. A deep, wracking sob escaped Monica's throat as she started to cry for the first time in years. Everything that she'd dealt with for the past two weeks—from her untimely death, to seeing the expression of pure hatred in Lady Edelgard's eyes, to how she humiliated herself in the Battle of the Eagle and Lion, to when that downcast messenger told her to read this letter in private—all of it came down on her at once. And once she started, she couldn't stop. This wasn't the kind of reserved graceful crying that Monica read about in stories or saw in operas, this was raw, ugly sobs. Snot ran down her face and Monica was sure she was ruining her uniform by wiping it away, but she truly didn't care anymore, not about anything other than howling her grief out, for both her father and the world she knew before. She heard the door to the changing room she'd sequestered herself in creak open and Monica did her best to quiet her sobs—she failed, obviously—and pulled her legs up onto the bench, hoping against hope that whoever it was would just ignore her. She didn't need to be reminded of how much her friends hated her right now. Someone knocked on the thin wooden door separating the stall from the rest of the changing room and a sweet, melodic voice came through, "Hello? Are you alright?"
It was Dorothea. Monica felt like the Goddess herself must have been mocking her at this point. She desperately wanted to do something, anything to make her leave—anything that meant she wouldn't have to see her closest friend's hateful gaze now of all times—but she couldn't stop herself. More violent sobs wracked her body as her traitorous mind recalled seeing her on stage, fighting alongside her, that last night in Enbarr Monica shared with all the Black Eagles before the end. The door slid open and Monica turned away, covering her head with her arms as if she could somehow hide from Dorothea even as she stood right in front of her. Another sob escaped her throat and she curled inward, wishing she could just disappear entirely. "Oh," Dorothea said and Monica was certain she could hear the disappointment. Dorothea had thought there was someone who deserved to be comforted, but instead, it was just her. A long pause stretched as Monica continued to cry—her embarrassing collapse showing no signs of stopping anytime soon—and Monica hoped for a moment that Dorothea had simply left, decided that she wasn't worth her attention. Instead, she heard the wood of the bench she was on creak as a second person settled on it. She felt a warm, comforting hand on the back of her head, stroking her short hair, still done up in the stupid braids that she had thought were cute four years ago. Monica heard Dorothea's voice, hesitant and unsure but caring nonetheless. "Um… Monica," Monica felt her breaking all over again at the reminder that she was no longer Monie in Dorothea's eyes, "I know we've had our differences these past two weeks, but are you…? Well, obviously you're not alright."
"N-no," Monica choked out, curling in on herself more. She continued between sobs, "E-everyone h-hates me for things I don't r-remember, Lady Edelgard despises me, and… and… I think I'm losing my mind!" She kept leaving places, certain that she was going somewhere else, only to wind up right back where she started, or finishing her chores only to find that her work hadn't even started yet. And then there was what happened at the Battle of the Eagle and Lion. She was certain that she'd attacked the Ashen Demon in a terrified panic, that she'd run for her life a mere moment later. And then she wound up right back in that clearing, the Ashen Demon's cold eyes drilling into her soul. "Oh, Edie doesn't hate you," Dorothea said. She apparently respected Monica just enough not to pretend that everyone else didn't or that she wasn't a step away from being locked up for everyone else's safety. "N-no she does. More th-than anyone else. A-and she's right to," Monica forced out again, not even sure why she was bothering to say anything. Kronya had already burned every bridge in sight before Monica arrived. Maybe having Dorothea at her side just made her feel safe again, even though she was anything but. Monica waited for Dorothea to leave, but it never happened. Dorothea waited next to her, running her fingers through her hair until the sobs finally, mercifully died down. She even continued to sit next to her as Monica kept trying to wipe the tears from her eyes. By the time that Monica was collected enough to focus on much of anything, Dorothea was still by her side, managing to give her a look of concern. As the last of her sobs finally died away, Monica tried to work up her courage to ask a question that had been lurking in the back of her mind since she arrived here. She didn't want to ask and ruin this moment, the first moment she'd had since she arrived here where things felt like how they were supposed to be. But it was going to end anyway, so it might as well end on her own terms. "What did I do to make you hate me?"
Dorothea narrowed her eyes and Monica flinched under her hard gaze. "I think you know." Monica muttered miserably, "I know it must have been something truly awful. You're too kind to hate me for anything less." Dorothea's expression turned confused and she hesitated for a moment before offering, "you called me a, and I quote, filthy commoner whore who should go back to selling herself on the streets of Enbarr so the people who deserve to be here don't have to deal with your stench. And this was after you stole my books and told me that you did so because you didn't think I could read." Monica flinched and let out a sad, croak of a laugh. "Yeah. That sounds just about like what it would take." Part of Monica entertained the idea that Kronya knew this was coming and had alienated everyone just to make her life more difficult. More likely, it was just that Kronya was a vile excuse for a human being who liked making other people upset. "Do you… do you really not remember any of this?" Dorothea asked, a mix of confusion and genuine concern in her voice. Monica shook her head without saying a word. She had no idea what had happened in the time that Kronya had been impersonating her, she had only the vaguest idea of what happened before then. It certainly wasn't what she remembered. It all seemed so much worse. "Maybe I should take you to Professor Byleth and-" Monica suddenly sprung up, eyes wide with terror even as a few stray tears continued to fall. "No! Not her! Anybody but her!" Monica's chest still ached with the memory of the Ashen Demon's sword running through her heart every time she walked past her, every time she was forced to sit through her lectures in class. She couldn't let her know anything about any of this. Despite it all, Monica still didn't want to die. Dorothea stared at her with wide-eyed shock of her own and placated her, "Okay, okay! Then maybe you want to see Manuella? If you're forgetting things and… having personality changes, you probably want to see her anyway." "Manuella," Monica muttered under her breath. Manuella had also been part of the Imperial army and Monica had enjoyed the old songstress' company, even if she still maintained that Dorothea was the superior performer. Kronya had probably seen fit to make Manuella despise her too, but that mattered less than it did with the others. If someone needed help, Manuella would care for them. She was safe. "That sounds nice." "Alright then," Dorothea said, helping Monica up to her feet. "Let's get you fixed up." Monica followed more in a daze than anything else. She knew it wouldn't last, this strange, twisted world seemed determined to make her miserable at every corner, but it was nice to be so close to Dorothea again.
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tarnishedxknight · 2 years ago
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Final Survival
Basch didn't really understand the jurisdiction of the Avengers. They didn't seem to stand for king, country, or creed so much as they answered to threats others could not handle, wherever they might be. That was how he found himself fighting somewhere in the mountains of Eastern Europe, or so he was told, for he knew very little about the world's geography in this time period. Stolen weapons and technology didn't seem to him to warrant the use of such an elite team, that is until he found out what it was they had stolen. At the debriefing for the mission, Basch learned that the destruction of Wanda's homeland, Sokovia, had resulted in certain amounts of technology from Mr. Stark's robotic soldiers. In the wrong hands, many lives could be lost with those weapons.
It was important to Wanda that she participate in this mission, seeing as how it was near her now-destroyed homeland and the threat resulted from that very battle. Basch had not been there when Sokovia was destroyed, but since he and Wanda had become close, he felt he needed to accompany her. So he did. Except... that once again, as was a theme in his life, he failed the one person he'd wanted to protect...
The scope of the operation that had stolen the weapons and tech was far larger than anyone had anticipated, and what was to be a rather straightforward mission ended up being an all-out battle. These thieves seemed to have some knowlege of the tech they were using, and a significant amount of hatred for the Avengers and Tony Stark. Basch thought he was keeping a watchful eye on Wanda, who as always said she could take care of herself and not to worry, but when he let her out of his sight for just a few seconds... she was gone. He called her name, he looked around for her, but there was no sign of her. She wasn't answering on comms. It was as if she'd disappeared entirely, just winked out of existence. Basch was frantic to find her.
The other Avengers were just as frantic... at first. After several hours and no ability of either Stark or the one called Vision to locate her through tracking or other senses, they decided they needed to return to base and regroup. Unacceptable, Basch said. He was reassured that they were not giving up looking for her, but only resting to begin the search again in the morning. Basch didn't care. He wasn't going to rest until Wanda was found.
Since they couldn’t force him to return with them, the Avengers left to rest and regroup while Basch continued to search for Wanda. He started in the area where he’d last seen her and fanned out from there, eventually heading deep into the forest. By the third day, he was exhausted from lack of sleep, cold, and soaked through, since it had begun raining as if to add to his sorrow. It wasn’t until the morning of the fourth day when he found her, and he crumpled to his knees. Wanda was lying there on the forest floor... motionless... pale and bloodied. Sleep-deprivation had him unable to hold back his emotion as he knelt over her and wept.
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“Wanda, I’m sorry... I’m so sorry I failed you...” Like I have failed everyone I have ever loved... He drew her into his arms, cradling her there as he cried. Why did his always happen? Why was it that everyone and everything he loved always died and was always destroyed? Wanda didn’t deserve this. He never should have-
But then he felt her move. She’d been so cold that he’d thought-... Basch laid her back down and felt for a pulse. It was there! “Wanda? Wanda!” Think. Breathe. Collect yourself, and do what is needed, soldier. He wasn’t sure how she was wounded, and his healing skills were mediocre at best, but maybe he could keep her alive until help could get there. Basch laid one hand on Wanda’s forehead and another over her heart, casting as strong a spell as he could muster in his exhausted state. He did his best to mend her, however she was broken. Then he got on comms and said she he’d found her... and to come get them both now.
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pastafossa · 2 years ago
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U know that scene in season 3 when Matt goes out for the first time since the explosion? He confronts those guys in the street not being recovered and he basically asks them to kill him? Cause u know Catholic guilt and suicide and stuff..
Well I just had the image of Jane finding out Matt did this and was in this head space and PASTA THERE ARE TEARS
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I am sadly quite familiar with that heartbreaking scene unfortunately. It's the absolute lowest point he reaches, after being broken physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. Gonna put the rest *waves* below a cut since it's dealing with a really heavy thing, but I'm down to talk about it a bit and about what Jane's reaction might be (since I'm planning to delve into S3 in TRT so I don't want to give things away).
So this point is basically the absolute, lowest of low points that Matt ever reaches in the show. He's been broken physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. Everything he's worked for has seemingly failed - he couldn't save the law firm, he split with Foggy, he lost his relationship with Karen, he couldn't save Elektra. He's lost his friends, his abilities, and essentially his body. The people he cares about all seem better off now that he's 'gone' and dead, and he even asked Danny to look after the city for him. He is in unfathomable pain. All the work he's put into Hell's Kitchen, and crime has never stopped. And now the one thing he had left, the one thing he could do to help - fight for something - is gone. He's left with what seems like nothing and so... yeah. He sees no reason to keep living. He has no purpose, and he'd rather die there on the street as the Devil then go on living.
I think the fact that he's dangerously Catholic only illustrates where he's at, since this is considered a huge no-no.
And now enter Jane, who loves him fully, and who he loves desperately in return.
Enter Jane, who has previously considered turning a gun on herself (Flashback section of chapter 104) if she was about to be captured again by the Man in the White Coat. She is... dangerously familiar with feeling like you have no way out.
Let's set aside what's actually going to happen in TRT, since I can't tell you how it's going to go down. Let's just take this exactly as it happens in canon - Matt convinces himself that, like with everyone else, she's better off without him; that even if she loved both Matt and Devil, he's now neither - he can't fight, he can't be a lawyer, so he can't be either of the things she loved and needed. And so he still hands that pipe over and offers himself up to be killed. And she finds out.
Matt is the only person she's ever met who doesn't give up. He fights, over and over and over, even when things are hopeless. It's why she stayed and fought - because he convinced her that even when things seem hopeless, you fight. It's not how you hit the mat, it's how you get up. It doesn't make her angry that he, in that moment, gave up. Because she knows Matt. And she knows that the only reason he would ever, ever give up is because he's in the darkest place he's ever been, somewhere so very far away, cold and alone in shadows that are so much louder than the voices of those that love him.
Add to that idea that she's almost lost him - again - and...
This would break her. It would tear her right down the middle, grief and agony so strong her knees would hit the ground, so strong she'd retch. Matt is her person, a star by which she guides her ship. She wants to grow old with him, or as old as the Devil can get. She had plans for this life with him. To know he's in this much pain is something she feels in the very heart of her.
And she would wonder if... she failed, somewhere. If she failed to let him know he was loved. If she failed to let him know she would always love him, even if he wasn't Matt, even if he wasn't Daredevil, even if he was no one at all, because she's been no one, been a Jane Doe for years, and he loved her regardless.
Did she touch him gently enough? Was she there for him often enough? Did she miss the right moment to whisper in his ear as she held him that the shadows were wrong, that he made the world better, that he was a good man, that she was proud of him, and that it was ok if he wanted to let this hurt out because she'd be there to hold him through it?
And yet she'd also be struck by one urge most of all, one she gave into over and over even before they started a relationship:
Help him.
There's no way she wouldn't find her way to that church basement. Maybe Maggie calls her; maybe she gets there herself. But either way, she winds up in that basement. She would find him there where he's curled up in that corner, lost and hurting and convinced he's nothing. And there's no way she wouldn't crawl to him, take him into her arms as he breaks, as his voice cracks on a, 'it hurts, sweetheart, it hurts so much.' No way she wouldn't bury her face in his hair, crying just like him, and whisper back, 'I know, Matt. I know it does, D. It'll be ok. I love you so, so much, Matt. It'll be ok.'
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inactive-luv · 4 years ago
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Circles and Squiggly Lines
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circles and squiggly lines
circles and squiggly lines
Summary: Spencer comes back from a bad case, and he and Y/N take some time for themselves to wind down and connect with each other...
Pairing: (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)
Details: maybe pre-prison Reid, but anything works tbh
Category: fluff and smut
Word Count: 3k
Warnings: depressing thoughts, skin-to-skin closeness, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, spencer cries sorry
A/N: based off this blurb by @spenciebabie for their fic contest!
...
His eyes were the most genuine part of his body; no matter how long he slept, they always eluded to the tiredness that constantly wept over him. It had become routine, he drank his coffee and took naps when needed, but overall he never slept much. Pills didn't work, and his job offered no sincerity to his lack of a good REM cycle. That was until he met her.
...
The first night he and Y/N slept together was probably the best night's sleep of his life. He thought of the oxytocin levels after orgasm or the studies of human skin-to-skin contact aiding in the human sleep cycle, but, after that, every night with her just became better and better.
In a non-sexual way (and a very sexual way), he loved sleeping together. He loved the feeling of her skin on his or the way her hair parted naturally in her sleep to frame her face. He loved holding her close so he could feel her heartbeat press against his. And he loved the mornings when she'd wake up tucked tightly in his arms. And he adored the groggy morning voice she hated so much.
She was one of the reasons he disliked traveling for work, not that he didn't love his job at times, but he missed his girlfriend's comfort after a long day, especially after the tougher cases. This one, in particular, was in the sex crimes unit.
He didn't want to talk to Y/N about this one. He didn't want her to worry about him, even though she probably should have. They don't tell you how much this job takes saturation out of things, and it made him realize just how much he missed her.
Thankfully they solved it rather quickly before the unsub could attain more victims, but when he got home that late Friday night, he admitted to himself how worn he was. He knew when to ask for help and when he knew he could push it off, but at this point, it took a lot to admit to himself how much he needed her.
He slept for the first time in a long week that night; it was comforting to fall asleep with her arms around his, and only then had he realized just how tired he was. She wasn't a profiler herself, but she could tell what he needed, even it was as little as a comforting rub on his back which is what she did.
She drew circles and squiggly lines on the bare skin of his back while his shoulder blades peeked out, and she hummed softly against his curly hair to let him rest in a peace he missed so dearly. A peace he had left unattended for far too long that now he was reunited, he would never let go.
And he slept. He slept, and he dreamed of pleasanter things. The shampoo of her hair wafted through his nose, so his memories of her flooded his head even in his unconscious state. Both of them in their exposed states, their skin on the others, he felt safe.
...
The following day Y/N was shocked to find a pillow that had replaced her boyfriend in the middle of the night. Instead of drawing out her morning tired state, she quickly investigated where he went. She wanted to be with him after missing him for so long, but she wanted to make sure he was okay.
She put on some clothes from her hamper, desperate to find him as promptly as possible, and she discovered her mission was soon cut short when the first place she looked, she found him sitting in the bathtub with water up to his open ears.
"Spencer?" Were technically the first words she had spoken to him in the past twelve hours or so, and he immediately turned his head and sat up in her direction. "Are you okay?" He didn't respond; he just kept himself put. Afraid if he moved a muscle, the glass of his peaceful state would fall off his head and crash onto the mosaic floor.
She didn't nag him for an answer; she knew that sometimes after a case as bad as she was assuming, he could go slightly non-verbal, but she trusted him enough to tell her what he needed. But before she turns to leave the bathroom, he croaks out a small "Can-" She stops and turns around rapidly like a genie ready to help him in any way she could.
"Can you stay here?" His voice was down to a whisper, and a slight frown formed on Y/N's face. She could hear the pain in his voice. "Of course, sweetie, do you want some food or something? You hadn't eaten since lunch yesterday; I'm assuming," But her cut her off.
"I haven't been eating." This flipped a switch in her mind telling her she had a problem to fix; she could get him a snack or maybe something bigger if he were up for it, but from where she stood, he grabbed her hand softly in his wet fingertips and looked up at her with his added and puppy dog eyes. "Later?"
She listened and started to move to the sink counter and sit o the edge, but his grip on her hand didn't falter. "Do you want me to join you?" And again, he didn't give her any signal, no words, just a motionless being in his bathtub. But she knew him too well to know that his silence meant 'yes.'
Her clothes fell off easily before she places her foot in the bathtub by Spencer's, absent enough for her to be able to fit perfectly on Spencer's chest. He took her comfort in his hands and squeezed her closely, scared she could leave in seconds, but he knew she wouldn't. He knew she wouldn't abandon him when her hands intertwined with his as easily as they did last night in their bed.
She leaned in close, hearing the heartbeat in his chest thump and thump against her ear as a signal he was alive and working correctly. But she knew even broken people's hearts could pump even if they were damaged.
The thought of Spencer going through his pain alone made her weep for him. "Are you crying?" He asked when he realized how much she needed him as he needed her. She didn't try to hide her salty face; instead, she just wiggled her hands out of their crook to hold Spencer's.
Spencer's beautiful and soft hands grown worn and cracked over time. Spencer's hands that fit perfectly into hers. Spencer's hands whose held onto hers as if his life depended on it. Spencer's gorgeous hands he used to rub her back.
Small circles and squiggly lines in the formations where he knew she wasn't ticklish and wanted him to touch. Wanted him to lather in soap in the shower or place his hand when they're walking together or trace shapes when either of them was sad.
She's unsure where their idea originated from while Spencer remembers every detail. He remembers how she held onto his fist and stretched his arm to doodle funny images on his wrist in red ink. He remembers how relieved it made him feel latching onto the sensory of the shapes. And they both remember it as their comforting message to each other.
Y/N takes notice of the room around them, unaware of the life the two people in the bathtub shared. And she looked across the room only a few feet away from a bottle of bubble solution. Spencer notices it, too, and smiles softly. "I don't understand people who bathe without bubbles." She giggles, and Spencer does too, reaching his long arm to grab the bottle. "I was just tired, but you want bubbles; I'll make you bubbles."
She smiles when she drips the fluid onto the bathtub floor before sinking her hands to mix the solution, bubbles quickly forming to Spencer's smile and a soft chuckle. She messes with the feeling of it all, the lather on her skin and the colors of the liquid, and Spencer starts to as well, both of them basking in the much-needed relief of a down-time moment.
A moment neither of them needed to explain themselves, and they could be. Focusing on every little bubble and every petite sud, they soaked in the water for a long time, laughing and cuddling and playing with bubbles.
It wasn't long before Y/N found herself tightly bound in Spencer's arms again. The innocence of their bodies together lying in the soap and the fun of their bubble bath. "I missed you."
"I missed you too," She moans, giving a soft kiss to the pec she was laying on. He smiles at the feeling of his skin under her lips, a feeling he probably missed the most. The soft and delicate way she handled him and the way he held her was everything he missed and everything he loved about her.
He thinks about what would happen when he lost her.
If he lost her
He thinks about the case. The poor women who never returned home to their significant others; the even more impoverished people who would never hold their loved ones the way he was holding his own. Why was it fair they all lost their everything's when he had his waiting for him at home the whole time. He felt guilty. He felt ashamed before Y/N could notice the shift in his breath and begin her circular and squiggly movements again.
This made him smile before he whispered to her, "I'm scared of losing you." She moves up from her resting place on his chest to meet his eyeliner straight into his face. "You're not going to lose me, Spencer." She whispers back even though the feelings don't go away; they fade darker.
He leans in to kiss her, and she eagerly continues his advance. Not eagerly in a heated way but a way that explained to him just how much she cared. And through their kiss, he felt all of the love and all of the happiness she felt for him.
It felt like too much for him to deserve, but she kept giving and giving to him. Gently pecking at his lips and toying with the skin on his chest, enough to let him know it was safe to relax before Spencer had more in mind.
"Let's get out." She's curious, sure, but she listens to him and starts to reach for a towel when she emerged, bubbles sticking to her skin like honey. He watched the curves of her skin travel to her sweet softness, and when he left himself, he hugged onto her as tight as before, leaving another kiss on her lips before nuzzling his head in the safety of her shoulder.
She patted his damp back and motioned him to the bedroom, letting him lay himself down before he pulled her with him. "Spencer?" His eyes fixated on her's filled with confusion, before he let himself explain verbally. "Sleep with me? I-," He cuts himself off, waiting for her to say 'no' for her to say anything and ignore him, but instead, she listens to what he was waiting to speak.
"I want to be close to you. I want to feel you." She stands in front of him while he sits on the bed. After his wording, he leans into her chest and stomach to plant little kisses onto the skin he missed so much.
"There are other ways if you don't want to do this." It's not that she was talking him out of anything; she just hated the idea of making him uncomfortable. But he persisted. He kept his mouth on her smooth skin, hungry for the comfort and safety he felt around her, inside of her.
His once depressed state had morphed itself into a desire needing to be satiated. He wanted her. He missed her. He needed her. Watching his face travel down to her lower abdomen, she realizes just how much she needs him as well.
So she turns around and flops herself onto the bed, Spencer soon following and using his arms to support him hovering over her. His hair was dropping a little bit into her face, but he filled the space instantly with his lips on hers. She tasted his mouth with a further longing to show her love. She tasted the coffee on his lips and smelled the natural aroma of cedarwood and soft laundry in his skin.
When his lips moved to her shoulder, a soft moan escapes her lips, making him move faster, eager to be with her in all the ways he yearned for over the weeks he was gone. Both of them were already naked, so it was just their bare and slightly damp skin grinding against each-other while Spencer grew harder above her.
She loved the feeling of his growth on her stomach and started groaning louder, so excited for him. Spencer could tell how impatient she was getting, so he draws one of his fingers from the pillow she was resting on to her pelvis, halting just a little before she broke off the kiss, noticing his hesitation.
Her eyes looked up to his with a look of pure adoration; he feels his heart skip a beat. She leans back a little, wondering if he'd changed his mind about sex, but to affirm his desire, he pushes his fingers into her skin softly and dragged them further to her core, earning another weak whimper from her.
Her sounds shoot straight to his cock while he watches her eyes flutter from his movements. Gently pinching and rubbing her swollen clit, "Oh! Spencer!" was enough for him to roll his head to the side in awe before shooting his digits inside of her.
Excess lubrication formed at his fingertips while her hands flew to his shoulders, gently scratching and pulling him closer. "What do you need, baby?" He coos into her ear while gently nipping at her earlobe.
"Jesus, Spencer fuck me!"
She wails without thinking, running purely on impulse for release, anything. So he listened to her and lined himself up. Not waiting to tease her, he thrust all of him inside of her at once, earning another scream in his ear. Her gorgeous moans and the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room as they collided together.
As rough as they took it, it was purely driven by passion. A desire to be with each other fueled by the heat of an absence lasting too long for either of them to cope with.
He slows his pattern and shifts his upper body to hover right above her. Her eyes open delicately after being shut in concentration for so long. "I love you." He whispers into her breath, "I love you too." She returns, loosening her tight grip on his shoulders to ease the tension they built up so feverishly.
She can tell he's about to cum, noticing the sweat on his brow and look of focus on his face, so to tease him, she tightens herself around his aching cock. "Fuck, do that again!" He moaned over her. She did what he said, drawing another long moan and twitch in his dick.
It took a lot for him not to bust right there, but he composed himself long enough to bring his hand down to her clit again. He wanted her to come before him, so he worked his best to toy with her how he knew she loved.
"Oh, Spencer!" And many more cries erupted from her open mouth before Spencer filled it with his tongue. She took her free arms to wrap around Spencer's shoulder and pull him impossibly closer to him, longing for the release of their connection together.
When she finally did come, it took Spencer half of a second to follow her. Both of their highs colliding with each other in the minimal air separating them. Moans cascading and ricocheting off the walls as they came down together, nestled in each other's arms.
Before she wants to latch away from him, Spencer rolls off of her body to lie next to her. In her midst of weakness after her climax, she doesn't latch back onto him right away. Instead, she takes a few deep breaths before she hears Spencer's waiver.
His chest rises and falls rapidly, causing Y/N to abruptly turn in his direction to find her beautiful boyfriend, so strong and resilient for her crying next to her.
"No, no, no, no, no, baby, what's wrong?" She turned her body nearly on top of his and slid her hands up to his face to wipe away the tears streaming down. He tried his hardest to stop or at least calm himself down in front of her, but at this point, he couldn't have stopped himself.
He moaned and cried a little longer in her arms before bringing his voice to a whisper in her ear. "I feel crowded." He whispered so gently she almost didn't hear him accompanied by the sobs in between words, but she tried her best to articulate further,
"Do you want me to go?"
"No, please, I need you."
The words flow out before he can stop them, finally exposing his vulnerability to her waiting to be caught in her embrace. She shushes him, trying to calm him down, and plasters kisses all over his forehead, easing up to whisper small praises to him before he starts to slow his breathing.
"I love you so much, Y/N. I can't explain how much I need you." She listens to every heartbreaking syllable, only tightening her grip on him before whispering her own reciprocation, "You're never going to lose me, Spencer, I love you."
She kisses his forehead before he's calmed down enough to plant another firm kiss on her lips. They both know how late it is in the morning, but without words, they both tell each other it's okay to rest a little longer. Spencer falls asleep first, and Y/N just watched in awe how peaceful he looks before following him in their cuddly nap.
...
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twoidiotwriters1 · 3 years ago
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Written In The Stars CXXXVIII (Harry Potter xF!Oc)
A/N: Meet Mel’s little brother :)
Words: 5,235 
Series’ Masterlist
Previous Chapter // Book Six
Listen to: ‘Thread’ -by Keane.
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Chapter Thirty-Six: Leon Regulus Sultens-Black.
HE-WHO-MUST-NOT-BE-NAMED RETURNS
[...]Albus Dumbledore, newly reinstated headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, re-instated member of the International Confederation of Wizards, and reinstated Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, was unavailable for comment last night. 
He has insisted for a year that You-Know-Who was not dead, as was widely hoped and believed, but recruiting followers once more for a fresh attempt to seize power. Meanwhile the Boy Who Lived —
"There you are, Harry, I knew they'd drag you into it somehow," Hermione interrupted.
"Of course they would," Erick rolled his eyes, he was sitting on the floor between the two beds, his back against Hermione's bed. 
Now that all his Slytherin friends knew the truth, they had stopped talking to him, so Erick was now spending all his time with Mel.
"He's 'the Boy Who Lived' again now, though, isn't he? Not such a show-off maniac anymore, eh?" Ron grabbed a bunch of chocolate frogs from his bedside table and handed one to each. 
He leaned over and stretched out his hand to Erick, the older boy stared down at the chocolate and then up to him, Ron waved it impatiently in front of his face and Erick grabbed it quickly.
"Yes, they're very complimentary about you now, Harry," Hermione agreed. "'A lone voice of truth... perceived as unbalanced, yet never wavered in his story... forced to bear ridicule and slander...' Hmm... I notice they don't mention the fact that it was them doing all the ridiculing and slandering, though... 'You-Know-Who's Last Attempt to Take Over, pages two to four, What the Ministry Should Have Told Us, page five, Why Nobody Listened to Albus Dumbledore, pages six to eight, Exclusive Interview with Harry Potter and Mel Dumbledore, page nine...' Well, it's certainly given them lots to write about. And that interview with Harry and Mel isn't exclusive, it's the one that was in The Quibbler months ago..."
"Daddy sold it to them," said Luna. "He got a very good price for it too, so we're going to go on an expedition to Sweden this summer and see if we can catch a Crumple-Horned Snorkack."
"...That sounds lovely," Hermione said after a short silence.
"So anyway, what's going on in school?"
"Well, Flitwick's got rid of Fred and George's swamp," said Ginny. "He did it in about three seconds. But he left a tiny patch under the window and he's roped it off —"
"Why?" 
"Oh, he just says it was a really good bit of magic."
"I think he left it as a monument to Fred and George, they sent me all these, you know," Ron pointed at the bunch of Frogs. "Must be doing all right out of that joke shop, eh?" 
 "I'll miss them..." Mel sighed.
"You can always buy a few of their products and set them around the school," Harry offered, "it'll feel as if they were still here."
She chuckled softly, around them the group shared confused and relieved glances. It wasn't exactly like before, but they could sense the friendly tones of their conversations, they had stopped fighting.
Although it didn't mean there wouldn't be fights later, they had pushed the conversation about their lifeline further into the future, right now they didn't have the energy to discuss life-changing matters.
"So has all the trouble stopped now Dumbledore's back?" Hermione asked.
"Yes, everything's settled right back down again," Neville nodded.
"I s'pose Filch is happy, is he?" asked Ron.
"Not at all! He's really, really miserable, actually..." Ginny lowered her voice. "He keeps saying Umbridge was the best thing that ever happened to Hogwarts..."
"If any of you feel like pranking Filch next year, let me know so I can look the other way," Erick joked.
All of them turned to see Professor Umbridge on the bed opposite Ron and Hermione's. Dumbledore had rescued her from the centaurs, nobody knew how, and Umbridge was out of it, therefore unable to speak.
"Madam Pomfrey says she's just in shock," Hermione explained. 
"Sulking, more like," said Ginny.
"Yeah, she shows signs of life if you do this," said Ron, and with his tongue he made soft clip-clopping noises. Umbridge sat bolt upright, looking wildly around.
"Anything wrong, Professor?" called Madam Pomfrey, poking her head around her office door.
"No... no..." said Umbridge, sinking back into her pillows, "no, I must have been dreaming..."
Hermione and Ginny muffled their laughter.
"Serves her right," Mel scowled. "She caused a lot of suffering this year..."
She looked down at Harry's hand, and the boy moved it only to hold hers.
"Speaking of centaurs," Hermione spoke, causing Harry to retreat his hand abruptly, "who's Divination teacher now? Is Firenze staying?"
"He's got to, the other centaurs won't take him back, will they?" Harry shrugged.
"It looks like he and Trelawney are both going to teach," said Ginny.
"Bet Dumbledore wishes he could've got rid of Trelawney for good. Mind you, the whole subjects useless if you ask me, Firenze isn't a lot better..."
"How can you say that?" Hermione frowned. "After we've just found out that there are real prophecies? It is a pity it broke..."
"Yeah, it is. Still, at least You-Know-Who never found out what was in it either, it was clever of you to break it, Mel. Though you really shouldn't have used your hand to do so..."
"I think it made you look really tough," Erick smiled.
Mel returned his gesture tensely, she wished she could feel as calm as the rest of her friends, she wanted to go back to normal but she couldn't ignore what was about to happen once the school year ended, now her home had as many ghosts as the castle.
"Hey, where are you going?" Ron asked in a hurt voice when Harry stood up to leave.
"Er — Hagrid's. You know, he just got back and I promised I'd go down and see him and tell him how you two are..." 
"Oh all right then," Ron grumbled. "Wish we could come..."
"Say hello to him for us!" said Hermione. "And ask him what's happening about... about his little friend!"
Erick occupied Harry's place, he nudged her arm. 
"You're going to let him go just like that?" 
Mel contemplated the door in silence. She was ready for Harry's grief this time, there would be moments when he would want to be left alone and she had no problem with it. She understood, there were moments in which she wanted to hide away forever and never wake up.
"He doesn't need me right now," The girl shrugged. "And before you give me a lecture, I don't mean it in a bad way. Whatever he's going through... I can't help him go through it faster. I can't even help myself..."
Mel looked out the window to avoid her friend's eyes.
"How about we go for a walk?" Erick suggested.
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They stopped once they reached the courtyard. It was deserted, most of the students were out on the school grounds bathing in the sun. Mel sat on the edge of one of the archways while Erick remained standing, she could feel him staring, but she kept her eyes down.
"So you and Harry are okay now," He started, "no more fighting?"
"None at all," She sighed. "We have better things to do than to fight over our love life. Not that it matters, we've stopped liking each other that way."
"How come?"
"It just happened," She replied quietly.
Erick hummed, moving to sit next to her. 
"Maybe you're meant to be just friends. I mean, your relationship is already too complicated with the lifeline..."
Mel couldn't care less about what her relationship with Harry was destined to be. She didn't know what she wanted to do with the connection after hearing Harry's reasons to keep it.  All she could think of was her mother; she'd sacrificed so much to keep them safe, what Sirius had done to help them... She was running out of days to think of a proper way to apologize to her family. Dumbledore had taken the blame but those were just words, in the end, it was Mel and Harry who'd decided to drop every precaution, part of her felt she deserved all the hurt.
"You know," Erick said quietly. "I've been thinking about dropping out of school after this year."
"Why?"
"Well, my intention was to become a Ministry worker, but after these last few months, I realized they're useless. It would change my plans completely... but maybe I could join the Order?"
"Is that what you want?"
"I don't know what I want," He sighed tiredly. "I know I'm good at duelling and I have nowhere else to go... Did you know Sirius offered to take me in for the summer?"
Mel stared at him. 
"Well, he did," Erick continued. "He said I could live with him, that he didn't mind having me around — said I reminded him of his younger brother... Wish I could've done something to help him..."
"You should hate me," She blurted out. "My mother's going to hate me. She'll hate me for being impulsive and for not listening to my uncle — My brother will hate me..."
"Why would I hate you?" He frowned. 
"It's my fault that your parents kicked you out," She responded. "I made you write those letters to Anne. It was me who dragged you into this mess, you never wanted any of this, you would've lived a quiet, prosperous life —"
"And I would've been miserable," Erick shook his head. "You never forced me to do anything. You asked and I granted every time because I wanted to, I needed you to give me that final push... I made my choice the moment I met you, Mel."
"It's my fault you don't get to live with Sirius — it's because of me that you won't have a nice home —"
"It's because of you that I'm still alive," His voice trembled with incredulity. He moved closer and held her by the shoulders. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, I'm so lucky I found you..."
The girl had been shoving all her worries deep within herself for too long, she hadn't cried properly, refusing to let herself grieve since she felt she had no right to do so. Erick's voice sounded honest and comforting, she cracked under the pressure.
Erick hugged her and Mel wept like she hadn't done in months, not even while making peace with Harry. She sobbed as loud as she wanted, and the knot that had been stopping her from breathing finally loosened a bit, it made her feel as if she was slowly shrinking back into her child self, the girl cornered in the playground, but she wasn't alone anymore, and she was no longer a weak little thing.
Erick ran a hand through her hair gently, there was something about the way he touched her that made her feel safe. 
"You'll feel better. I promise you will..."
He'd lost someone not so long ago, the only adult he'd loved and cared for him. He was probably still grieving, but the fact that he was there, in one piece, was the definite and only proof she needed to hold onto her hopes.
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When the last day of school arrived, it also meant having to sit there surrounded by curious eyes all staring at her and Harry, and she knew what Dumbledore would say during his speech. 
Stay together. 
She'd talked about the same thing for three days in a row and she was exhausted, if she could, she would drink a potion to forget everything, maybe even the fact that she was a witch, and she would go live with her uncle Lupin, surrounded by nothing but trees...
However, Mel had to keep fighting. It was far from over.
She decided to skip the feast and asked her friends to bring her food once it ended, she slowly made her way back to the tower. Mel turned right on one of the corridors and stopped abruptly when she saw Harry. 
For a second they stared at each other in mild confusion, they had been careful not to spend too much time alone because they knew they would end up discussing things they weren't ready to address. Mel gathered enough energy to give him a weak smile.
"Trying to find your appetite? Me too."
Harry raised his eyebrows. 
"You're not hungry?" 
"It's been happening all year," She sighed. "I guess I grew out of that too..."
"No way. You'll be eating in a week, I expect."
"I expect the same from you," She replied. "I'll make sure you eat twice as much. Merlin knows you need it."
A faint smile appeared on his face. 
"Care if I join you? I could use a walk."
The silence didn't last long when they found Luna.
"How come you're not at the feast?" asked Harry.
"Well, I've lost most of my possessions. People take them and hide them, you know. But as it's the last night, I really do need them back, so I've been putting up signs."
"That's horrible," Mel frowned.
"How come people hide your stuff?" 
"Oh... well... I think they think I'm a bit odd, you know. Some people call me 'Loony' Lovegood, actually," The girl said casually.
"That's no reason for them to take your things," Harry replied. "They used to call Mel a nutter too, but they didn't hide away her things."
"That's because they thought I was an attractive nutter," Mel rolled her eyes. "Prats. People need new brains, Luna. You're wonderful."
"D'you want help finding them?"
"Oh no," Luna smiled. "They'll come back, they always do in the end. It was just that I wanted to pack tonight. Anyway... why aren't you at the feast?"
Harry and Mel shared a look and shrugged. 
"We didn't feel like it."
"No," Luna agreed, and for a second, Mel was able to see something more than just the usual vagueness in her eyes. "I don't suppose you do. That man the Death Eaters killed was your godfather, wasn't he? Ginny told me. She also said your mother and him were expecting a baby, Mel."
Harry nodded, Mel barely replied with a broken 'yes'.
"Have you..." The boy started slowly. "I mean, who... has anyone you've known ever died?"
"Yes. My mother. She was a quite extraordinary witch, you know, but she did like to experiment and one of her spells went rather badly wrong one day. I was nine."
"I'm sorry," Harry mumbled.
"Yes, it was rather horrible. I still feel very sad about it sometimes. But I've still got Dad. And anyway, it's not as though I'll never see Mum again, is it?"
"Er — isn't it?" Harry glanced back at Mel with slight worry.
"Oh, come on. You heard them, just behind the veil, didn't you?"
"You mean..." The boy started, but he didn't dare to finish.
"In that room with the archway. They were just lurking out of sight, that's all. You heard them. I could see you felt them too, Mel. They're always there."
Luna smiled at them carelessly, as if she'd just commented on the weather.
"Are you sure you don't want us to help you look for your stuff?"
"Oh no. No, I think I'll just go down and have some pudding and wait for it all to turn up... It always does in the end... Well, have a nice holiday."
"Yeah... yeah, you too."
"Bye, Luna."
As they watched her go, Harry turned his head slightly without withdrawing his eyes from the Ravenclaw.
"You think she's telling the truth?"
"About what?"
"Everything."
Mel stared at the notice on the wall for a moment, deciding to use her popular card one last time in order to help a friend. 
"I think I would love for it to be true," She responded. "And since I have the liberty to believe in whatever I please... then yes, I think she's right."
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Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, who had clearly been waiting all week for the opportunity to strike without teacher witnesses, attempted to ambush Harry halfway down the train as he made his way back from the toilet.
The attack might have succeeded had it not been for the fact that they unwittingly chose to stage the attack right outside a compartment full of D.A. members, who saw what was happening through the glass and rose as one to rush to Harry's aid. 
Ron and Harry walked back into their compartment and told them what had just happened outside, Erick put down the book he was reading and scoffed. 
"One would think that having your parents sent to Azkaban would knock some sense into you... I'll have to keep an eye on them next year, then."
Mel turned to look at him in surprise.
"You'll come back?"
"Yes," He said, a little smile playing on his lips. "I got a letter this morning ..."
He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to her. It was her mother's handwriting.
"I'm welcomed to stay with you this summer, and I think I'll take the offer," He grinned. "I don't wish to work at the Ministry, but I could learn a few things before I'm off to become a member of the Order. Besides, I can't think of a better way to thank Sirius than to look after all of you in the meantime..."
"I think that's very sensible of you," Hermione agreed. "It would've been stupid to give up your education now."
"What's stupid is that he's been ignored by his housemates," Ron replied. "The only decent bloke that house got in decades and they hurled him out? That's rubbish!"
Everyone stared at Ron with amusement, the boy turned a bit red.
"What? I can admit when someone's a good person!"
"I don't know what to say," Erick laughed. "Gryffindor's king just gave me his blessing..."
Ron turned redder and threw a jellybean at him.
Harry and Ron whiled away most of the journey playing wizard chess while Hermione read out snippets from the Prophet. It was now full of articles about how to repel dementors, attempts by the Ministry to track down Death Eaters, and hysterical letters claiming that the writer had seen Lord Voldemort walking past their house that very morning...
"It hasn't really started yet," sighed Hermione gloomily, folding up the newspaper again. "But it won't be long now..."
Neville let out a short sigh, absently patting his Mimbulus Mimbletonia. Mel put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed, he looked up and smiled tensely.
"Hey, Harry," Ron kicked his leg.
Cho Chang was passing by with Marietta Edgecombe, who made a great deal out of hiding her face. Harry barely reacted, glancing at her before returning his gaze to the game.
"What's — er — going on with you and her anyway?" Ron asked, unsure of whether this was a safe subject to handle with Mel around.
"Nothing," Harry answered.
"I — er — heard she's going out with someone else now," added Hermione, looking at Mel as well.
"You're well out of it, mate. I mean, she's quite good-looking and all that, but you want someone a bit more cheerful."
"Right, because Harry's a ray of sunshine," Erick taunted.
"She's probably cheerful enough with someone else," Harry shrugged.
"Who's she with now anyway?" Ron asked.
"Michael Corner," Ginny responded.
"Michael — but —" Ron stammered. "But you were going out with him!"
"Not anymore. He didn't like Gryffindor beating Ravenclaw at Quidditch and got really sulky, so I ditched him and he ran off to comfort Cho instead," Ginny said distractedly, focused on her Quibbler.
"Well, I always thought he was a bit of an idiot," Ron said happily. "Good for you. Just choose someone... better, next time."
"Well, I've chosen Dean Thomas, would you say he's better?" Ginny replied. 
"WHAT?" 
Ron knocked over the chess and Crookshanks chased around the pieces. Grey merely opened one eye before going back to sleep. 
Erick laughed again, freedom suited him. The stiffness of his shoulders had vanished and although he kept some old-fashioned attitudes, he was slowly coming out of his shell. Affection settled on Mel's heart.
"What about you?" He asked her, bringing her back from her reverie.
"What about me?"
"Do you have any new prospects in mind? I know Fred's hard to beat, but..."
"I don't think I'm ready to date anyone yet," Mel responded sincerely. "Why?"
"No reason," He replied. 
His eyes lingered on her long after she'd looked away.
The moment came when the train got to the station, and she stayed behind, unsure of whether she wanted to see what was expecting her outside the platform. 
It was time to meet her brother.
"Remember what I told you," Erick offered his arm for her to hold.
Her mouth was dry, but she nodded and held his arm firmly, letting him guide her to the other side of the wall with a firm step.
There was Mad-Eye Moody, looking quite as sinister with his bowler hat pulled low over his magical eye as he would have done without it, his gnarled hands clutching a long staff, his body wrapped in a voluminous traveling cloak. 
Tonks stood just behind him, her bright bubble-gum-pink hair gleaming in the sunlight filtering through the dirty glass station ceiling, wearing heavily patched jeans and a bright purple T-shirt bearing the legend the weird sisters. 
Next to Tonks was Lupin, his face pale, his hair graying, a long and threadbare overcoat covering a shabby jumper and trousers. At the front of the group stood Mr and Mrs Weasley, dressed in their Muggle best, and Fred and George, who were both wearing brand-new jackets in some lurid green, scaly material.
Emily was next to Lupin, she was hugging a bundle of blankets that could only be one thing. She didn't look like Mel was expecting, there were dark circles under her eyes, but she was far from angry. 
Her face filled with relief as soon as she saw her. Mel stumbled back, not knowing what to do. Emily realized that her daughter was afraid and she looked at her in confusion. 
"Mel," She began carefully. "D'you remember what I told Harry last year after the third task?"
Mel remembered, of course. 
"You said no one would blame him for fighting as hard as he could."
"That's right," Emily cupped her daughter's cheek. "I was so scared of losing you... My brave, brave girl."
Mel hugged her mother tightly, around her, she heard the others welcoming the rest of their friends.
"Ron, Ginny! Oh, and Harry dear — how are you?"
"Fine..." 
"What are they supposed to be?" Ron's voice asked.
"Finest dragon skin, little bro," Fred responded, probably talking about his clothes. "Business is booming and we thought we'd treat ourselves."
Mel finally stepped back so Erick could say hi as well. She realized then that she was now as tall as her mother.
"It's time you meet someone," Emily said, drying her face with the back of her sleeve. "Come here... this is Leon Regulus. Reggie, this is your sister."
He was the tiniest person she'd ever seen, didn't have much hair yet, but his eyes were definitely grey. She remembered Luna's words and in a way, she felt that a part of Sirius still remained.
"I have a brother," She whispered in awe.
"Is that your sibling?" Ginny beamed. "Can I see him?"
Quickly, Ron and the girls approached to look at him. 
Harry stayed behind, a bit unsure of whether he was allowed to meet him.
"Hello, kids," Lupin greeted them while the rest of their friends surrounded Emily.
"Hi. I didn't expect... what are you all doing here?" Harry asked.
"Well, Emily can't drive and watch over the baby at the same time, as for the rest, we thought we might have a little chat with your aunt and uncle before letting them take you home."
"I dunno if that's a good idea," Harry said awkwardly.
"Oh, I think it is," Moody growled. "That'll be them, will it, Potter?"
Mel looked over Moody's shoulder and saw the Dursleys, shocked to the core at such scene. She couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of it, the first genuine laughter ever since coming back from the Ministry.
She felt someone poking her shoulder and she turned, coming face to face with the twins.
"What, we stop seeing each other for a few weeks and you forget we exist?" Fred smirked. 
She jumped into his arms, hugging him tightly. 
"I would never forget you. Have you met my brother?"
"Yes, ugly little thing," Fred grimaced, George hit the back of his head. "What? It's true! No newborn is pretty..."
"Bold words from someone with the ugliest taste in clothing," Mel laughed again, it was interesting what a bunch of familiar and happy faces could do to her soul.
"We heard Erick's staying with you this summer... Pitty, we were thinking about hiring him as our assistant."
"I would rather choke on my tongue," Erick walked up to them. "You look ridiculous, and that's coming from someone who likes to wear formal shirts on the weekends."
Fred and George trapped him in a bear hug and messed up his hair, Erick tried to fight back but it only made things worse. 
"You missed us!"
"Flimsy little prince like you must bore to death without us around to keep things interesting..."
"Trust me," Erick grunted, looking at her with a smile. "Mel made sure you weren't that sorely missed."
"Ah, kids!" Mr Weasley looked at them. "Boys, let go of him! Ah, look at what you did! He looks like a madman..."
Erick blushed a nice shade of pink, but he laughed it off. 
"It's okay, Mr Weasley..."
"He looks far better like this," Fred teased. 
"Don't listen to them, they're just jealous," Emily replied, followed shortly by the girls and Ron. "Harry, would you like to meet my son?"
Harry wasn't expecting her to address him, but he didn't have the nerve to say no. Emily took it as a yes and did something she hadn't done with the rest of them: She asked him if he wanted to hold him. 
Harry stared at the baby without uttering a word. He took him, and with a few pointers from Emily, soon enough Leon was safely tucked on his arms. 
"He's... he's got his eyes," Harry said quietly. "Reggie, you say? ...He's brilliant."
For a moment he forgot about the rest of the world, Harry could see his godfather reflected on those small, shiny eyes, and with that came a life with no mistakes in it yet, a new opportunity to make things right.
Emily didn't take the baby away, instead, she joined the group of adults.
"Well — shall we do it, then?" Mr Weasley then directed his attention to Moody.
"Yeah, I reckon so, Arthur." 
He and Mr Weasley took the lead across the station toward the place where the Dursleys stood, apparently rooted to the floor. Hermione disengaged herself gently from her mother to join the group.
"Good afternoon," said Mr Weasley pleasantly to Uncle Vernon, coming to a halt right in front of him. "You might remember me, my name's Arthur Weasley."
As Mr Weasley had singlehandedly demolished most of the Dursleys' living room two years previously, Harry would have been very surprised if Uncle Vernon had forgotten him. Sure enough, Uncle Vernon turned a deeper shade of puce and glared at Mr Weasley, but chose not to say anything, partly, perhaps, because the Dursleys were outnumbered two to one. 
Aunt Petunia looked both frightened and embarrassed. She kept glancing around, as though terrified somebody she knew would see her in such company. Dudley, meanwhile, seemed to be trying to look small and insignificant, a feat at which he was failing extravagantly.
"We thought we'd just have a few words with you about Harry." 
"Yeah. About how he's treated when he's at your place," Moody growled. "And trust us, Emily has made sure to tell us all about it."
Her mother smiled brightly.
"I am not aware that it is any of your business what goes on in my house —" Mr Dursley started, but he was soon interrupted.
"I expect what you're not aware of would fill several books, Dursley."
"Anyway, that's not the point," Tonks added. "The point is, if we find out you've been horrible to Harry —"
"— and make no mistake, we'll hear about it," Lupin added, looking briefly at Mel and winking.
"Yes, even if you won't let Harry use the fellytone —"
"Telephone," Hermione corrected under her breath.
"Yeah, if we get any hint that Potter's been mistreated in any way, you'll have us to answer to," Moody growled.
"Are you threatening me, sir?" Mr Dursley asked in anger.
"Yes, I am."
"And do I look like the kind of man who can be intimidated?"
"Well..." said Moody, pushing back his bowler hat to reveal his sinisterly revolving magical eye. Uncle Vernon leapt backward in horror and collided painfully with a luggage trolley. "Yes, I'd have to say you do, Dursley."
He turned from Uncle Vernon to Harry. "So, Potter... give us a shout if you need us. If we don't hear from you for three days in a row, we'll send someone along..."
"We'll keep an eye on him, Moody," Mel's mother replied, "Erick, Mel and I will. Feel free to have every meal with us from now on, Harry. There's no reason for you to be eating rubbish."
Aunt Petunia gasped loudly at this.
"I..." Harry blinked. "Okay."
Emily stepped forward and seized Regulus, then she stood on her tiptoes and kissed Harry's cheek. 
"We'll see you in a while, love."
"'Bye, then, Potter," Moody patted his shoulder.
"Take care, Harry," said Lupin. "Keep in touch."
"You're not coming?" Mel asked. 
"I'm afraid not," The man said, hugging her one last time. "We have work to do."
"I could help if you want," Erick responded quickly.
"You're not going anywhere," Mel argued, holding his arm protectively.
"Maybe later, kid," Lupin answered, staring at them in slight amusement.
"We should move," Emily responded before Erick could argue back.
"Harry, we'll have you away from there as soon as we can," Mrs Weasley said. "And of course, Emily dear, all of you are invited."
"We'll see you soon," said Ron shaking Harry and Erick's hands.
"Really soon," Hermione added. "We promise."
Harry then summoned a real, loving smile. He waved at everyone goodbye and then turned to Mel and Erick. 
A strange thought came to her when she watched those two boys standing next to her and her mother: Family.
Difficult times were ahead, but they would go through them. Together.
"Well," Harry scratched the back of his neck. "I'll see you later."
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Erick sat in the backseat with restless curiosity, examining every detail.
"First time?" Mel grinned, looking over to the older boy and her little brother, completely asleep on the baby chair. "If you feel like vomiting don't stress, I get carsick too..."
"Ready?" Emily asked.
Mel stroke Grey's head and turned around to face forward. 
Yes, she was ready.
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jafndaegur · 4 years ago
Text
Noise of Rain | Chapter 1
Sesskag
Endless Forlorness Made me Numb
A/N: so @fandomplethora and I were talking about Mo Dao Zu Shi AUs. And I was like "nooo, I'm not gonna work on my Sesskag version. I have too many WIPs already". You know, like a liar. So here's my MDZS au for Sesskag🤣 it happens during the course of the canon-timeline, I guess before Final Act. Sooo yeah. I hope you enjoy whatever the hell this is🤣🤣🤣
。☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆。
Kagome watched with pursed lips as the last of the sun set over the horizon. Gilded rays fluttered over the earth, streaming across the trees and grass like rivers of fire. Warm. Beautifully and utterly warm. The dying sunlight drenched her skin, and she tilted her head back—trying to drink in it's comfort. 
Trying to ignore the pressing cold digging its way into the edges of her senses.
Sunset's birth left a wake open for the creatures she'd come to dislike and maybe even hate. Soon she knew the faint pale wisps of the Soul Stealers would come into view. They would approach but never broach, as if taunting the unspoken agreement of distance. Time and time again, they teased the limits, dancing along the edge of her sights until she spun around. In the back of her mind she wondered if it would be worth it to just fork her spirit over to Kikyo. The undead priestess deserved a life, free from trickery or deceit. Something pure—
Only caught by the ascended.
After all, before her egregious turn to...what Kagome liked to think of as the emo rebellious phase, Kikyo had been rather fair and just. The death dealt to her an unfair blow by fate into the hands of a psycho spider demon.
But as the thought began to teeter close to the cusp of action, Sango's voice called her from their campsite and the idea dissipated.
Still. 
That darkened patch in the back of her mind, the one that hid behind bright smiles and dazzling sapphire eyes, pulsed. It reached out and brushed against her reiki, causing the edges to crumble to dust, unreplenished. Not that Kagome knew.
It wasn't as if anyone were helping her cultivate her priestess powers. So if she felt a bit more fatigued or a little more drained, she blamed it on the fact that Inuyasha was nowhere to be seen in the camp. Although she hadn't expected to see him. With the Soul Stealers in close proximity, they always chimed his cue to leave.
The passing scenery is going to collapse—
Cold wrapped her mind and complete midnight gripped her reiki. She cried out for help but no one could hear. 
They didn't need her. Just a jewel-shard detector.  They didn't want her. Just a lesser reincarnation.
—along the obsequious side.
"Oi, Kagome," Inuyasha's voice drew her from her sleep-deprived autopilot. "Can't you pick up the pace?"
Her brow twitched and she tried to find a good reason to not "Sit" him then and there. But her chest heaved and the exhaustion washed over her, and she acquiesced. Today was neither the time nor the place. As their group moved forward in the direction of the next Shikon jewel piece when the hanyou had picked up scents of Sesshomaru traveling their direction. In a bout of stubbornness, he refused to change course. Insistent that if his half-brother wanted to fight, then he wouldn't shy away.
Kagome's brow rose as Sesshomaru’s own little group met up with theirs. 
Rin perched happily on Ah-Un's back, Jaken in tow, and the proud daiyoukai at the front—the little quartet brushed passed them as if they weren't there. Other than the pleasant wave and hello Rin shouted in their direction, it was almost like they didn't exist.
Almost.
As they continued on, Kagome shivered as the sensation of Sesshomaru’s youki swept over them. It probed with an innocent inquisition that was disarming. She wondered why he was searching to change the hidden. But in the moment that she detected his power, it eased away and left them.
"What an asshole, he probably just came around to show-off," Inuyasha huffed.
Kagome wondered if that was the case. The full youkai had been searching for something. But what? 
She felt herself going to the dark spot in her mind, wondering if she took hold of it and reached out—would Sesshomaru’s presence return? Was this darkness, this strange thing, was this what he looked for? Kagome felt half inclined to try. She wanted him to turn around.
To notice that she felt…
Miroku called out that he noticed a dark aura from the north, something suspicious and chilling.
Kagome sighed and supposed that it didn't matter how she felt. Hitching her backpack onto her shoulders, she closed her eyes and sifted for that familiar feeling of the sacred jewel. While she wasn't sure, something stirred her heart in the direction the monk had pointed to. 
With a triumph smile, she hopped up to the front next to the half-demon. "I'm not 100% sure, but I think there's a shard in that direction."
That pleased Inuyasha enough. "Alright! Let's get a move on then."
They made camp a couple miles out from wherever they were headed next. A heavy dread had covered the little campsite, the nearby evil seeping close enough to have everyone on edge. Inuyasha and Miroku both kept a vigilant watch neither one comfortable to rest. Sango helped keep Shippo and Kirara calm enough to doze into a restless sleep. Kagome stared off into the distance. The Soul Stealers were in the opposite direction of the unholy aura; wandering, looking.
But unlike the previous night where they had toyed with the notion of trying to take her spirit again, their movements differed. Unorganized and haphazard—the ghostly creatures meandered in confusion.
Heart pounding against her chest, Kagome couldn't help the small smile wiggling its way onto her face. In her mind's eye, she cupped the darkness more. After all, it had swallowed her reiki whole, hiding it from even Miroku's detection.
It protected the treasure by throwing away the guidance everyone depended on.
The middle of the night sung out to her and she awoke on a cold sweat. Someone was crying. But everyone had fallen asleep. Miroku and Inuyasha seemed fitfully sleeping at best, while Sango and Shippo curled in for warmth against Kirara's warm side. The fire-cat however, glanced at her with worried large eyes. 
Kagome hoisted the holy bow and arrows onto her shoulder. She gave an appeasing pet the demon's nose.
"Don't worry, I'm just going to investigate," she murmured gently. "Something's off. And I want to make sure we don't walk into a trap later."
Kirara gave a low growl but she did not move otherwise.
Kagome smiled and snuck forward. The morning had yet to start, so the air felt frigid and moist. Dew just barely started to accumulate on dark forest and heavy grass. Pushing her way through the underbrush, the inner compass in her chest pointed the direction she needed. Not to mention the voice she'd heard began to cry louder. Words still weren't quite comprehensible but the sentiment was there.
The forest started to scar away, replaced by shale and growing rigid crags. Heavy mist permeated the area more. Kagome drew her bow and crouched low, still persisting. The crying started to take on a form.
 Noise of rain. It wept. Noise of rain your footsteps cry.
And suddenly just like that, Kagome spun around, arrow ready to shoot. Naturally,  Naraku stood behind her—his arms behind his back, his face pensive.
"Kagome," he greeted, voice heavy and hesitate.
Her brow cocked. "Naraku. What do you want?"
Noise of rain—
"What are you doing here so far from your watchdog?" He asked, still nothing but curiosity and even perplexity radiating off of him. 
—your footsteps cry.
"Something called me," she whispered.
The spider hanyou's crimson eyes narrowed and he walked away. "Follow me."
As they trekked, the mist began to seep with a type of miasma, but for some reason... It didn't hurt her. Shady, inky tendrils looped slow through the air as they trudged upwards, following the rise of the mountains.
"I found this place, yet it confounds even me." Naraku drawled, dark hair wavering. "There is some type of life. But it refuses to interact."
"Can you blame it?" Kagome bit back.
He chuckled darkly.
They reached the peak. 
Below them an infinite spiral of darkness. Except this time not one voice cried out to her. They all whispered and unfurled. They all heard her. 
They reached for her.
"What's down there?" She murmured. 
"As far as I can tell, these are burial mounds." Naraku hummed. "Any one place you dig, there are bound to be bones."
The darkness over her reiki swelled. Kagome trembled.
"The miasma here is not my doing," Naraku continued. "It's not poisonous. Just resentful. It's quite the odd place."
She reached out her hand and the voices smiled. "You are wanted here. Please help us here. This is the end of all lies."
"I don't think it's resentful," she whispered. 
"Interesting theory," Naraku's voice curved and drawled. "Would you like to test that?"
Before she could ask what he meant, his foot collided into her back. She screamed as her body tottered over the edge. Loafers slipped, hands grasped air, and her body tumbled into the abyss' embrace.
Weak and limp she couldn't move her limbs. Every fiber, every bone, everything must have shattered at the impact's drop. Her lungs heaved painfully. The voices giggled and suddenly they were no longer begging but controlling. They grabbed at her, trying to tear her apart and reach for the reiki within her soul.
Yet that darkness from earlier, the darkness that had appeared one day and started to grow the next…
She imagined Inuyasha looking mournfully around his surroundings, wondering where she abandoned him—just like his first lover...
Her mother and brother called out for her endlessly. Their worried tones climbing and climbing but never finding the ears they wanted…
Sesshomaru’s youki poked and prodded, searching, searching, searching for her…
Her darkness consumed every part of her reiki, like a wildfire over a bonfire, it ignited a flash that had her toes digging into the ground and her will sending her to stand.
Her aura spread and she clenched her jaw, commanding the voices to quiet.
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