#but I wanted to think about it first. however Autumn chose for herself

[plushie-lovey]

Just came home from work and found my plushies laying like this?? I did not position them this way, hello???

Glad to see Autumn likes the new girl Goldie so much 🏳️‍🌈

[acourtofthought]

How do you think Lucien is going to react to having Helion as a father? I know everyone is excited about it and thinks Lucien will be happy to find a different father but I just don't feel like he's going to be happy with Helion. At. All. Not after what his mother has gone through; I know it's not exactly Helion's fault, but I think Lucien will attribute Helion as a major cause for much of his mother's abuse. Also, she waited for him and he didn't come for her. Also, I don't think Helion is going to be a "cool dad;" I'm not sure how he's going to feel about having a son who grew up in the Autumn Court. How do you think Helion will react? Anyway, this is why I'm more invested in Lucien and Eris repairing their relationship.

I definitely don't think Lucien is going to run straight into Helions arms, thankful for a decent father figure at last. I imagine he'd have too many unanswered questions at first (not to mention they haven't been written as having any sort of relationship in the series so far, even one outside father / son).

Did Helion know Lucien was his son? Did he suspect?

If so then Lucien would definitely want to know why he never attempted to have a relationship with him.

Though I can't imagine SJM would write a scenario where Helion knew and didn't have a valid reason for keeping his distance, she has spoken of being weirdly obsessed with Helions character so I don't imagine she'd want to turn him into the bad guy especially when Lucien already has one of those in his life in Beron.

I think eventually, we're going to see Helion and Lucien getting along well. They're too similar in their sassy personalities with a flare to their style not to find common ground and recognize a likeness to one another. But Lucien is grown now, he doesn't need a dad to play catch with, so any relationship that does form isn't going to look the same as what it would have had he been much younger. Maybe there will be a scene where Helion offers him advice on his situation with Elain, about not giving up on hope when it comes to the right female and that will be a representation of their bonding, something Helion personally has experience with and could share his wisdom on. However I think we'll see them connect on a more equal level rather than Helion suddenly morphing into Super Dad trying to constantly guide Lucien without Lucien asking for his advice.

I hope Lucien doesn't blame Helion for what happened with his mother because Helion was no more capable of stopping Beron than Lucien and Eris were.

Lucien is centuries old at this point. Not as old as Rhys and the others in the IC but maybe 300? 400?

The LoA was twenty when she married Beron and had many sons before Lucien. Helion only came into power about 40 years ago while UTM as Amarantha killed the HL of Day and most of their family when they tried to rebel.

That means when the LoA married Beron, Helion had no idea he'd become a High Lord and that means he may not have had the power to stop Beron who already had internal ties to power. It also sounds like neither Helion or the LoA had any chance in what appears to have been her arranged marriage.

I also think it's important to remember that the LOA chose to stay.

The LoA did not reach out for help, she did not request someone free her from Berons shackles.

So who was Helion to interfere in her marriage? What he thinks she should do and what he'd like to do doesn't trump what she herself did.

I actually have had personal experience (not my own but family members) who are victims of domestic abuse and I can attest to the fact that you can't force someone to leave unless they want to. You can offer them all the help and a place of safety but there is truly no interfering and insisting they leave if they themselves aren't ready to walk away.

I do agree that I'd also love to see Eris and Lucien repair their relationship if there is some valid reason behind the years Eris spent treating Lucien cruelly. I think that's the direction SJM is heading, she's laid a few hints that maybe he could have been protecting Lucien in a way that wouldn't raise Berons suspicions but we still haven't gotten a true explanation for it all.

Really, I want all the relationships for Lucien.

I want to see him reconnecting with his brother so he has one decent sibling.

I want to see Helion and Lucien working towards a relationship, in whatever capacity that is.

I want he and Tamlin to find peace with one another even if they don't end up being extremely close.

I would like Az to finally acknowledge Lucien is a worthy male and for the two to move forward as friendly acquaintances.

I want him to be blissfully happy with his mate.

He's spent so many years alone and there would be nothing more satisfying than seeing him surrounded by love in every court.

[jahayla-parker]

Hey! Could you do Tom Holland x reader one with #3 from the Autumn prompts list plz 💙 The setting could be that the reader came over to Tom's house when it's pouring rain outside.

Warmth : Tom Holland x Reader

Description: 41.k wc fluff fic for the prompt "let’s get you out of these wet clothes". Y/n’s boyfriend cheats on her and her best friend Tom is there to help her through it.

Warnings: mentions of reader’s boyfriend cheating, angst, breakups, confessions, kissing, pining, a few curse words I think.

As y/n walked through the damp streets of Kingston upon Thames, the rain blended with the tears flowing from her puffy eyes.

The streets were sparsely populated, cold, wet, and all around grim at this time of night.

Yet, she continued her lonely journey through them.

She was desperate for solace.

She longed for the consolation only her best friend Tom could provide.

Y/n had been walking for over an hour already tonight.

Her clothing was beyond drenched thanks to the insistent downpour the universe cruelly deemed necessary.

To say the universe was against her might seem dramatic.

However, after the events of today, y/n would beg to differ.

Her day had started out rough but salvageable.

It didn’t stay salvageable though.

First, she overslept.

Then came the burnt bagel and expired cream cheese of breakfast.

On her way out the door, she’d forgotten her phone.

She’d locked her keys in her car accidentally when they had fallen unbeknownst to her during a desperate attempt to rush back inside for her phone.

She wanted to merely crawl back into bed and call in sick.

But she let her optimism get the best of her and decided to stick it out.

Unfortunately, her day didn’t improve.

In fact, things only managed to get worse.

Although she’d made it to work after only a short delay, she got a speeding ticket on her way.

She then had to skip her lunch break to make up for her late arrival.

The one thing she’d held on to was knowing her boyfriend was going to be cooking dinner for them tonight.

She looked forward to the change, usually being the only one cooking or doing any housework.

He’d moved in a few months earlier but quickly took advantage of her already established routines she’d see for herself.

She hadn’t noticed at first that he’d let her do all the work, since she’d been so used to it already.

However, a few weeks ago after her best friend Tom asked her about it, she realized her oversight.

As such, she calmly requested that her boyfriend begin contributing.

Tonight was scheduled to be the first night he came through on that arrangement; having had multiple excuses arise before.

Yet, her night chose to match the rest of her day.

Upon arriving home she discovered there was food made.

Seeing this, she felt small glimmer of glee

That glee quickly turned sour when she noticed the two sets of dishes had both been eaten off of.

As her eyes turned to the bottle of wine and the two wine glasses on her dining room table, she felt the rest of her optimism extinguish.

One of the wine glasses had lipstick on it; and not y/n’s typical shade.

Left with no other choice but to face the inevitable, she dropped her bags and entered her house further in search of her boyfriend and the mystery woman.

Lo and behold, she found them red handed; in an extremely compromising position in y/n’s bedroom.

The argument that followed suit wasn’t much fun either.

But, she felt a twinge of pride upon promptly terminating the relationship and kicking him out of her house then and there.

That pride diminished as shame and dejection soon took over.

She didn’t want to be alone.

Nor did she want to be in this house right not.

While it was her house, it was tainted with the all too fresh sense of betrayal.

She knew there was only one person who she felt safe enough confessing her ex-boyfriend’s indiscretions to.

Her best friend Tom.

So, she’d quickly located her keys and made her way to her car.

However, evidently the universe wasn’t done with her yet.

As, it now just so happened that her car wouldn’t start.

When her keys were locked inside earlier, the lights were running.

But she didn’t worry about the battery as it started up enough to get to and from work.

Yet, that’s seemingly all it has left in it.

And without her ex boyfriend’s car here, she couldn’t jump start it.

So she decided to call Tom and see if he could pick her up.

Only, her phone was dead.

She wanted to scream and give up.

But she couldn’t get herself to go back inside.

Nor could she ignore the strong desire to see Tom.

So, she decided to walk to his house instead.

Even if it was an hour and forty five minute quest.

Hence why she was out on these desolate roads this late at night in pouring rain.

Most people would’ve turned around or not have begun the journey at all.

But Y/n needed to.

She needed Tom.

So, despite her Converse having been soaked through within minutes, she stubbornly didn’t let up.

While she was understandably shivering and would likely be sick, she knew it was worth it.

Only a few more minutes and she’d be at the door of her best friend’s house.

Only a few more blocks and she’d be able to be in Tom’s embrace.

——

Y/n bit her lip and began to wring out her sweater as she waited for Tom to come to the door after she knocked.

“Y/n?! Love, what’s going on?!” He gasped instantly, his eyes sorrowful and concerned.

Y/n’s lip trembled as she attempted to answer, but Tom just shook his head and tenderly pulled her inside.

“Shhh, I’ve got you” He promised, shutting the door behind them.

“Are you hurt?” Tom asked as he held her shoulders and looked her over.

She shrugged, “not physically”.

Tom’s body released some tension momentarily before it snapped back to its alert state.

“Emotionally?” He pressed quietly.

She gave him a weak half smile and looked down at her soppy shoes.

Tom sighed to himself before rubbing her arms, “we’ll fix that. But first, let’s get you out of these wet clothes”.

Y/n looked up and into his sympathetic eyes, “Yeah, sorry… I should-”.

He placed his left pointer finger over her lips, “shh, none of that. I’m glad you’re here”.

She sniffled and that was when Tom truly noticed the red puffiness of her eyes,m; clearly caused by tears and not the rain he hoped accounted for all the wetness on her cheeks.

“I’ve got that jumper you love, the purple one?” Tom said hoping to cheer her up, “let’s get you into that instead?”

She nodded and grabbed his hand as he led her down the hallway.

While he slipped away to get her some new clothes, she stood before the mirror in his bathroom.

When he came back in, he saw the look in her eyes and knew she’d been scrutinizing herself and appearance.

“What did he do?” Tom asked, standing next to her.

“What?” She questioned, not looking at him.

“I’ve never seen you look at yourself that way before Y/n. I’m assuming y/ex/n did or said something idiotic”

She sighed, “Yeah. But I’m just trying to understand why, and maybe -“

Tom cut her off as she stared at her reflection harshly, “mmm mmmm no, we’re not doing that. Whatever he did or said, it’s got nothing to do with you or your looks love”

She turned to him and gave him a soft smile, “Thank you Tommy”.

He nodded, setting the dry clothing down for her.

“I wasn’t sure what kind of trousers you wanted so I bright a few options. I’ll be on the sofa when you’re done” he told her, squeezing her hands.

“Oh,” he stopped in the doorway of bathroom, “icecream?”

She giggled faintly, bringing a smile to Tom’s face, “yes please”

“You’ve got it love” He nodded.

Y/n combed through her damp hair, drying it with the towel Tom left on the counter for her.

She quickly changed into the clothing he’d left her, opting for her favorite hoodie of his and a pair of his drawstring gray sweats.

Fortunately, the thickness of the sweater and jeans she had on earlier were enough to keep her undergarments from being soaked.

They were cold to the touch and perhaps faintly wet but barely noticeable.

She dabbed at the smeared makeup on her face before groaning when it didn’t budge and only smeared more.

Recalling the last time she’d spent the night at Tom’s, she knew she had some makeup wipes in one of his bathroom drawers.

She let out her first sigh of relief as she looked at herself in the mirror

She still looked down but not as pathetic as she did when she first entered the bathroom.

“Thank you Tom, this is so much better” she mumbled, stepping into the hallway.

Tom looked up from the living room at the end of the hallway and smiled at her, standing up as he began to walk to her.

“Are you warm?” He asked, his eyes scanning her again as he neared.

She nodded with a soft appreciative smile and slightly forced laugh, “much warmer, and less of a hideous mess”.

Tom’s eyebrow’s furrowed as he reached her, a pout on his lips, his arms now crossed over his chest.

“Did y/ex/n say that?” He asked, voice dripping with protective venom.

She shook her head, “no, I just saw my reflection”.

She laughed softly as he sent her a slightly irritated glare, “but also, can we not say his name?”

Tom’s gaze softened as he nodded and closed the distance, pulling her in for a warm hug.

She immediately melted into his embrace, her arms wrapped tightly around him to keep him close.

Tom held her back and cradled her head as he rubbed her neck.

She sniffled into his chest, making him wince and frown more.

“I’ve got you love, come on” he whispered, guiding her to the living room slowly.

Tom felt his heart clench as she walked awkwardly with him, refusing to let go of him for even a few seconds.

As he made it to the sofa, he aided her in sitting down beside him.

He still had his arms around her as she sat down and curled into his side.

——

After holding her in silence for several minutes, he gave her cheek a tender squeeze as the doorbell rang, “that’s the ice cream, I’ll be right back”.

“Please don’t let me go” she whispered, Tom’s breath catching as he saw the embarrassed look she gave him over her request.

Tom leaned back into the sofa, moving to cup her face in his hands, “never”.

She sniffled and her gaze silently scanned his face before settling on his eyes, “promise?”

Tom’s left thumb trailed her cheekbone, “I promise y/n. Love, you’re stuck with me, always”.

She curled her lips up softly at him, “thank you. I-I just really need you”.

He nodded, smiling tenderly at her, “you have me y/n/n, you’ve always had me. Just tell me what to do”.

Wiping her eyes she sniffled, “this is enough. This is everything, Tommy. There’s no where else I’d rather be or anyone is rather be with right now, thank you for letting me in”

Tom hummed, pulling her back to his chest, “I’ll always let you in y/n, you never need to question that love”.

“I wouldn’t have blamed you. I showed up unannounced, at an ungodly hour, looking like a drowned sewer rat” she giggled, tracing shapes on his chest beside where she was resting her face.

Tom rolled his eyes, rubbing her back, “you looked just fine love. You’re always beautiful y/n”.

She snuggled closer into him, “see, this is why I needed you, you always make me feel better”.

He smiled to himself proudly, “it’s my job, and I accepted that job with honor and deep responsibility”.

She giggled, still absentmindedly drawing imaginary shapes on his torso, “well, thank you”.

Tom hummed, “love, I have to ask…”

She nodded against him, signaling he could ask whatever was on his mind.

“You’ve made several negative comments about your appearance tonight, that’s not like you” he frowned, “why is that?”.

Y/n sighed, “I’m just questioning a lot about myself tonight”.

Tom paused, looking down and analyzing the way she was clinging to him.

“Love, I know you don’t want me to say his name… but is… your boyfriend… is he the reason?” He asked hesitantly.

She leaned back, looking shyly into his eyes, “he’s not my boyfriend anymore”.

Tom’s eyes widened, “the arsehole wasn’t truly daft enough to end it! Was he?”

Y/n shook her head, making Tom’s eyebrows raise in confusion but he kept his gaze soft.

“So… then, you ended things with the tosser?” Tom asked.

Y/n bit back the desire to giggle at the way Tom’s British vernacular and accent always shown through more when he was emotionally impacted.

Instead, she merely kept eye contact and nodded, waiting to see his reaction.

Tom visibly relaxed, but stroked her cheek as he asked his follow-up inquiry, “can’t say I’m disappointed. You know I’ve always said he didn’t deserve you, I’m glad you see that now. But, what happened?”

She bit her lip and broke eye contact, now nervous to admit what transpired.

She hadn’t had time to process or determine why it had happened.

So now she was worried how it would make her look if she couldn’t keep a boyfriend happy.

It didn’t help that y/n had long ago developed an unrequited crush on Tom.

She elected to push those unspoken feelings aside in the interest of their friendship and tried to move on.

But she didn’t care for the idea that he might understand why y/ex/n seemingly grew bored with her.

Tom watched y/n tenderly as he waited for her to answer.

He could see the hesitation in her eyes as she seemingly debated whether or not to answer.

“‘ey love, why I don’t I get the ice cream and then we can watch y/f/m?” He offered, changing the topic for her comfort.

She nodded, hesitantly sliding out of his arms.

“I’ll be right back ‘ere in a sec’ love” he promised, bending to kiss the top of her head as he stood up.

Y/n bit her lip at the familiar feeling she’d missed.

He would always kiss the top of her head when she wasn’t feeling well.

That is, unless she had a boyfriend; as he didn’t want to overstep or risk her partner suggesting y/n and Tom needed space.

However, she missed the behavior every time she needed comforting.

Feeling it again now only reminded her of that.

It also reminded her that her choosing to give y/ex/n a chance had been the reason she’d gone without the loving action.

Y/n frowned to herself as she regretted her decision to try and move on even more upon realizing that.

She knew it was likely platonic, but it still meant the world to her and made her feel bubbly inside.

Even if it was platonic, she wasn’t sure she ever wanted to give it up again.

Yet, she didn’t know what to do about that since she couldn’t just never date anyone only to be able to have him kiss her head when she wasn’t well.

——

“Woah, sweetheart, what’s with the increased sadness?” Tom frowned, suddenly before her again.

She blinked as she came back to the moment, realizing she was nearly in tears again.

Y/n rubbed her arms in embarrassment and shook her head.

Tom sighed but nodded softly, “okay, come ‘ere though”

Y/n complied and cuddled back into his arms as he held the ice cream tub behind her.

She shivered slightly from the cold of the dessert and Tom promptly draped the blanket from the back of the couch between her body and the ice cream.

“Open” Tom hummed softly, bringing a spooonful of ice cream to her lips.

She looked at the spoon and smiled widely, making Tom’s heart soar, “is that y/f/f?!”

Tom huffed, “‘course love, what else?”

She giggled and cupped his cheek before pulling his face to her shoulder, “thank you Tommy”.

As she released him, he lifted the spoon to her lips, smiling as she accepted the offering with excitement.

——

Tom stared as y/n rested on his chest while they watched y/f/m.

He sensed something, likely whatever happened with y/ex/n, was still bothering her.

But he could tell she was feeling much better than she was earlier tonight.

As he shifted his arms around her, she glanced up and smiled softly at him.

He smiled back before she turned around to watch the movie.

——

“Darling, are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?” Tom questioned, pouting as she glared at her phone.

Y/ex/n had called several times, resulting in her blocking his number and feeling dejected again.

“I… I…. He… he-“ she sighed, peaking up at him with sad eyes.

Tom pulled her to his chest, pressing his lips against her hair as she snuggled into him.

It took her a few moments of silence before she confessed what happened with y/e/n.

“Y/ex/n.. he cheated on me” she admitted, her voice so soft Tom barely heard it.

Yet, he felt his body go rigid with anger at her words.

Tom took a few shallow breaths as he tried to keep his anger at bay so he could focus on comforting her as he knew she needed him.

“Tom?” She questioned faintly, slowly leaning back to look at him.

He saw the look of not only sadness, but… worry in her eyes.

Why was she worried?

“Darling, I-“ he sighed loudly, “I don’t know what to say. I’m so sorry y/n-“.

She shook her head, “it’s okay”.

“No, it’s not” Tom grumbled, “you deserved better. You deserve someone who returns your love, not some wanker who acts like that”.

Y/n hummed softly, “I didn’t love him”.

“What?” Tom asked in shock.

She took a deep breath and looked into his eyes as she repeated herself, “I didn’t love y/ex/n”.

“You didn’t?” He questioned.

“No. I don’t know how he felt, he never said he loved me” she shrugged, “but I didn’t love him”.

Tom nodded slowly, still a bit shocked.

“I tried to. I just didn’t feel for him in that way” she admitted.

“It’s not something you can force or control y/n, that’s not your fault” Tom assured her.

She nodded, “but I.. I thought I might be able to at some point. And I though I was enough for him… but-“

Tom shook his head, hoping her face “you are enough. You are more than enough”.

She bit her lip and blinked shyly, “if I was, he wouldn’t have cheated Tom”.

Tom closed his eyes tightly and sighed, “he didn’t cheat because you weren’t enough. He cheated because he was an arsemonger who evidently couldn’t appreciate your value”.

Y/n hummed quietly, Tom’s eyes opening as he watched her, “my value?”

Tom nodded, his breath hitching before he elaborated, “Darling, any bloke should be honored to be chosen by you. You are by far worthy of more than you seem to realize. I know one day you’ll find someone who sees that and wouldn’t ever hurt you”.

Y/n smiled and blinked away some tears as she gazed up at him.

“No, I’m sorry” Tom gasped, wiping her tears.

She shook her head, “they’re happy tears Tommy”.

He sighed in relief and pulled her back to him, his lips lingering on her head as she focused back on the tv.

——

Tom was frozen as he watched y/n suddenly pull away from him and face him with her eyes full of love.

Before he could ask what was on her mind, her lips were on his, her hand on his cheek.

Tom tensed momentarily in shock but quickly relaxed into the kiss, having wanted a moment like this with her for years.

But, as he felt her still damp hair, he recalled the situation they were in.

Her boyfriend ex boyfriend, just cheated on her.

She was far too emotionally vulnerable and confused to be cognizant and intentional on her actions.

He reluctantly pulled away, hand on her shoulder to distance himself.

She opened her eyes and he saw fear, regret, and despair swimming in her irises

As he opened his mouth to explain why he pulled away she covered her face with her hands.

“Oh my god” she gasped, “I’m so sorry Tom. I… I… I shouldn’t have kiss you like that”

Tom tried to embrace her as she tucked her face to her chest, hands still hiding her face from him.

“I can’t believe I did that,” she sighed, hand tugging on her hair, “fuck I’m an idiot. I’m s-sorry”

Tom ignored the pain in his chest over her feeling stupid and regretting the kiss so deeply.

“Y/n” Tom began softly, reaching for one of her hands.

She shook her head, “I-I didn’t-“

He sighed tenderly, “I know you didn’t mean anything by it. You’re dealing with a lot right now. Don’t worry about it y/n/n, we can pretend it didn’t happen”.

She rubbed her hands aggressively down her face before finally lowering them and looking at him for the first time since the kiss.

“I…that’s not… am I not… was it bad?” she whispered.

Tom shook his head, “no, love. I’ve always known the man who wins your heart would be so bloody lucky, that only added more reasons “.

She felt her cheeks warm but sniffled as she stared at him, “then…. Why..? Why did-“

Tom sighed, grabbing her hand in his, “Why did I pull away?”

She nodded, but held up a hand to stop him before he could answer.

“Do you… was it always platonic?” She sighed, feeling embarrassed for having misread the situation.

Tom’s cheeks flushed as he rubbed the back of his neck, “no”.

Y/n wiped her face, stopping as Tom moved his free hand up to take over the action himself.

“But it is by now?” She asked shyly.

“Y/n, I don’t know that you’re in the right place to have this discussion righ now darling” he warned tenderly.

She took a deep breath, “I think now the perfect time because, if I didn’t do it now… I might not have taken the jump”.

Tom sucked in a breath, “what?”

“I’ve tried Tom. Truly, I have. I tried to not feel this way, I mean we’re friends. Best friends. And I love that” she said her voice shaking.

Tom squeezed her hand and stroked her cheek as he listened to her.

“I don’t think I can be just friends with you. Even if you don’t feel the same way anymore. I… I will always see you differently and want to be more” she whispered, closing her eyes.

Tom felt his lips grow into a wide grin and bit his bottom lip to control it.

“Y/n/n,” he began softly.

“I’m not saying we can’t be friends. I don’t want to lose you Tom. I can’t lose you. But, I don’t think I’ll ever not see you as something else, something…”

“More?” He asked for her.

She nodded, opening her eyes to gauge his reaction.

He smiled softly at her and took a deep breath.

“Love, I’m honored to hear you say all of that. But-“ he began.

“But” she sighed, shaking her head and looking away from him in disappointment.

Tom tugged her hand, his other hand tilting her face back to look at him, “please. Please just listen to me”.

She nodded and blinked slowly at him in silence.

“You are everything. Everything. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you” he confessed, stroking her cheekbone.

“I mean, bloody hell love, it hurts me just how much I ache for you. And to watch someone else be with you, especially someone who is idiotic enough to risk losing you, it kills me” Tom admitted, voice wavering .

“I’m so very in love with you y/n. But right now, you need time. Time to heal and move on from what he did. I’ll be here the whole time. And I’ll be here after” he said.

She sniffles, a small smile on her lips, “so, you’re not mad I kissed you?”

Tom chuckled and shook his head, “if I were your boyfriend, I’d pepper you with kisses”.

Y/n bit her lip, “but you don’t want to be my boyfriend..?”

Tom lifted her hand to his lips, placing a soft kiss on her knuckles, “you’re not hearing me love. I want to focus on consoling you right now. If you still feel this way about me after… We can talk about us later, okay?”

She smiled, pressing her lips together to keep them from displaying an embarrassingly large grin, “us… I like the sound of that”.

Tom grinned, “as do I darling. But for now, movies and cuddles?”

Y/n nodded, “movies and cuddles”.

He pulled her back to his lap, wrapping his arms around her tightly as she cuddled against his chest.

As Tom began the next movie, Y/n hummed softly, enjoying the warmth Tom instilled in her heart.

TOM HOLLAND MASTERLIST/NAVIGATION (INCLUDING CHARACTERS)

MY MAIN MASTERLIST/NAVIGATION (ALL MY WORKS)

Tom Holland Tag List (to be added please comment here): @galaxyholland @bigbirdstwins @mcushvft @fishingirl12 @raajali3 @justapurrcat @natswifeysblog15 @directioner5life @ell0ra-br3kk3r @laylasbunbunny

[usernoneexistent]

Autumn 1895: Starting fourth year, Winona seeks out her cousin, Lysander to spill what she discovered during her holidays. Apologises, I didn't have time for the drawing but it will be coming in an edit.

Characters featured: Victoria Summer @whatwouldvalerydo, Nolan Miller @hogwartsmysteryho, Lysander Mercury @slytherindisaster, Jim Hexley @the-al-chemist.

Character mentioned: Selene Fraser @lifeofkaze, Ethel Hexley @the-al-chemist.

Warnings: disastrous cousins.

Winona couldn't wait for the Headmaster's speech to end. All she wanted to do was find her cousin, Lysander and tell him everything she had discovered. She felt she had to say the details in person rather than through correspondence, which was far too complicated to explain.

"Are you alright, Winona?" Her best friend, Victoria Summer, asked.

"Yes, I am completely fine," Winona assured though the knot forming at Victoria's forehead said otherwise. "How come? Do you think something is wrong?"

"You seem..." The Gryffindor carefully chose her following words, "restless."

"You shouldn't worry about me. I am fine, chirky even."

"If you say so," Victoria said, still uncertain but turned to chat with Selene Fraser and Ethel Hexley. Winona watched across to the Hufflepuff table, looking for a blonde boy whose hair could change on a dime. She spotted glimpses of blonde hair sitting next to darker hair and a more wiry-looking boy, most likely Jim Hexley. The prefects took the first years to their common rooms, leaving the rest to join later. This was Winona's chance without her brother getting suspicious.

"I shall meet you later in our dorm." She mentioned it to Victoria, giving a nod of acknowledgement before returning to the conversation. She walked around the long table between the Gryffindor and the Hufflepuff table.

Her shoulder bumped into a certain Ravenclaw; however, she was too busy to care.

"Oi, watch it where you're going, Rosewood!" Nolan Millar exclaimed.

"You better shut it, Miller!" She quickly stuck her tongue out, but she couldn't afford to wait for his reaction.

"Lys!" She quietly tapped his shoulder. "Artefact room in five minutes."

"Um, but we're having our dinner right now."

"Sorry Hexley, but I need to steal him from you." Jim didn't look too pleased with Winona taking his friend away, "I promise it will be only for a couple minutes."

"It's fine, Jim. I'll be gone for only a couple of minutes." Lysander could sense it was big news, and she only rushed to her cousin like a seeker when it was colossal gossip. No, huge news.

Winona and Lysander quicken their pace. Some second years were already in the artefact room before they sent them out to their proper place.

"So? What is the news of the day, cousin?" Lysander was curious than ever; his hair changed to a playful Scheele's green.

"So, do you remember when I wrote to you that I discovered something in papa's office?" She referred to their regular correspondence over the Summer, sharing the latest gossip about the neighbours and adventures they had.

"Yes? I recall that you had some out-of-this-world news." His hair changed to purple as the anticipation built.

"Well, I found some letters from his mistresses." It was the first time Winona finally could say it out loud. The word felt strange and foreign to her. It wasn't as bad as she had expected herself to feel. Lysander's mouth gaped wide open for one of the few times; he was genuinely speechless.

"And..."

"There is more." His mouth turned into a partial smirk.

"I have an older half brother." Winona finally said. Lysander was really now grinning. "I knew there would be more. Who is it? Is he here, at Hogwarts?"

Winona knew her cousin would naturally be curious as to who it was.

"Yes, he's actually in your dorm," Winona teased.

Lysander muttered through the potential suspects, eliminating them one by one until he reached only one name. He almost gasped out in excitement.

"No, it can't be? It's Colin Moss!" He glanced over at his cousin, and Winona nodded in confirmation. Though Lysander furrowed his blonde eyebrows. "But I thought you had said his father was a werewolf. Well, we knew he wasn't a werewolf for two years, but still."

"I never said that he nor his father was a werewolf," the girl clarified. "I simply said that there were werewolves at his family's establishment. There is a huge difference."

"Same difference," Lysander rolled his eyes before glancing over at Winona. She is fraught with excitement and a bit of relief; it is like the weight of her world has finally been lifted off her shoulder. The fact that she had Lysander to talk about everything was an immense consolation. "Are you going to tell Colin about this?"

"Yes, I do plan on telling him about our shared paternity. However!" Winona gave a firm stare. "Don't tell Colin that you know until I have informed him."

Lysander morphed his mouth shut as he mimicked locking it and throwing away the key. It will be challenging, but Winona knew that her cousin would be quiet for her sake.

"I better let you scurry back to Jim before the feast ends."

"And you better tell me when you and Colin had that talk." The metamorphagus winked before slowly leaving for his Hufflepuff friend. Winona took her to leave too.

Walking to the fat lady portrait. What kind of life has he led so far? She had a rough idea based on what she'd heard. What were his mother and grandfather like? How similar were they? Does he look like their father?

All these questions fluttered around her head. Winona knew she needed the resolve to tell him today. She was ready; all Summer had time to brace herself and talk to him. Tell him the truth.

But that will have to wait for another time soon enough.

Previous chapter: Pandora's Box

Next chapter: New Kin Folk

[gladerwolfstarkimagines]

Imagine being Fred’s sister and secretly dating Gogo.

You’d first met Gogo when Fred brought her over after they all fell in the ocean. You came home to find Gogo muttering and swearing to herself in the bathroom while Honeylemon tried to calm her down. Fred had told you all about his friends so despite never meeting them you recognised them on sight. 

“Hey y/n you’re back from boarding school!” Fred cried spotting you and you grinned “I know and I managed to take a ton of advanced classes so I have enough credits to graduate now! Meaning I never have to see that place again!”. “That’s amazing!” Fred cried squeezing you in a hug and Honeylemon rushed to congratulate you. “Ow of course you’ve never met let me introduce you all, so guys this is my sister y/n, the pride of the family! Y/n this is Honeylemon and Gogo” he said pointing to each girl in turn. “It’s so nice to meet you!” Honeylemon beamed hugging you while Gogo just nodded. “You too” you smiled back at Honeylemon before turning to Gogo “nice to meet you too Gogo, I like your hair”. Gogo touched it awkwardly and attempted a smile “thanks, it usually looks a lot better when it’s not soaking wet”. “Ow yeah I completely forgot! Y/n we fell in the ocean so can Honey Lemon and Gogo borrow a change of clothes”. “Yeah sure, come on” you said and you led the way to your room. 

Gogo went to protest but Honey Lemon shushed her “it’d be rude to tell her no”. “But I know I’m not going to want to wear her clothes” Gogo moaned. “How do you know?” Honey Lemon whispered and Gogo shrugged “because I never like anyone’s clothes!” but they were out of time because you’d reached your door. “Here we are, make yourself comfortable and I’ll grab you both something”. Gogo’s jaw dropped and she gazed around your room in shock. It was huge which wasn’t surprising considering it was a mansion and that wasn’t what impressed her. No what made Gogo stop in her tracks was your parents clearly let their children decorate their own rooms and Gogo liked yours a lot. Fred’s room looked like a five-year-old had thrown up everywhere whereas yours was classy but not in the snooty way rich people tended to decorate. You had a simple but tasteful colour palette that had a slightly gothic feel. You had a beautiful fireplace and a balcony overlooking a garden below. Your room smelled like a mixture of jasmine and vanilla Gogo’s favourite scents but that wasn’t even the best part. In one corner you had various weights and boxing gloves which interested her. “Y/n do you box?” Gogo called and from somewhere in your closest you laughed. “Yeah I do! I know it’s stereotypical lesbian but I love boxing. At school we had to pick two sports and I chose boxing and taekwondo. At first I was the only girl but by the end of the year I’d convinced so many girls to join we made up half the class” you called emerging with an armful of clothes. “That’s so cool!” Honeylemon called “are you thinking of pursuing sports at University?”. You shook your head “no way! I was good but I don’t have the determination to make it as a professional. No my plan is to study at SFAI this autumn”. Gogo felt her excitement sink and knew she should’ve known better “so you’re majoring in art?” she asked trying to keep the sarcasm to a minimum but some of it slipped out judging by Honey Lemon’s glare. 

You however didn’t even seem to notice and if you did you weren’t offended. You sorted through the clothes and smiled “well specifically sculptures are my speciality but I also can work with wood, metal and stone”. That impressed Gogo a lot more and she raised an eyebrow “wow that’s not what I was expecting”. You chuckled “yeah I could never sit still long enough to finish a painting but give me a flamethrower to melt some metal or a hammer to chisel some stone and I’m entertained, I actually made that fireplace” you said pointing to the one Gogo had been admiring. “Seriously?” Gogo asked “you made this!”. “Yeah 2 years ago now...what do you think of it?”. “It’s really good” Gogo admitted and Honey Lemon nodded “you must be really talented”. You shrugged “I’m good but I’ve got more to learn...anyway here we are. Honey lemon this is for you” you said passing her a dress which Gogo was pretty sure she’d actually seen her wear before. “Oh my god I have the exact same one in red!” Honey Lemon confirmed and you smiled “I thought it seemed very you” before you turned to Gogo “and for you”. Gogo took in a deep breath but what you handed her wasn’t that bad at all. Some simple black jeans, a nice t-shirt and a bomber jacket. Gogo raised her eyebrows surprised and you smiled “I thought a leather jacket might be a safer bet for you but I only have one with me at the moment and it’s my pride and joy so sorry I can’t lend it you”. Gogo shrugged “that’s no problem at all”. You left them both to get changed and once she was done Honey Lemon nodded “wow we both look so normal, she really analysed us and got our styles in seconds”. Gogo nodded impressed “yeah Fred’s sister seems pretty smart, who would’ve thought it!”. Honey lemon smiled rolling her eyes but Gogo was pretty seriously impressed with you. 

You were on her mind a lot that summer and every time she saw you Gogo was surprised by another great thing about you. Every time she came to the house she hoped she saw you and more often than not she did. Fred soon told you about the whole superheroes thing and so you helped the group train and were around Gogo a lot and she found herself spending a lot of time with you. She learnt you had a lot in common, like her you liked motorbikes and were designing your own. Apparently you’d also considered a degree in engineering and that was evident with how talented you were. You were also an avid reader and liked all the same books as Gogo not to even mention your music taste was eerily similar. You suggested a new band to Gogo which she was reluctant to try at first but after one song they became a favourite of hers. Fred dragged her to one of your taekwondo matches later in the summer and Gogo gawked at the strength of your attacks. After she watched you floor your opponent she knew there was no denying it, she was into you. So when they finally defeated the masked supervillain that summer Gogo decided there was no better time than the present to ask you out. She took you for a drive to  Muirahara Woods and asked you right there. You said yes and you’d been together ever since. However neither of you had told the others purely because it kept things more private and simple. This way Fred didn’t get over-involved and Gogo felt more comfortable not having all your family watching her every move. So you continued on in your secret relationship very blissfully until some problems began to arise, the first was how to get time alone together. 

Big Hero 6 In Fred’s room (minus Gogo who had mysteriously disappeared)

"Hey where’s Gogo?” Hiro asked noticing they were one member down. Fred had called a mandatory team-building sleepover and Hiro knew Gogo had been here earlier. Everyone looked around when Wasabi spoke up “I think she said she was going to the bathroom...she always takes a while here, do you have really nice bathrooms or something Fred?". Fred nodded "I do, she must really like them cus she’s been 15 minutes". "Maybe she’s lost?" Honey Lemon suggested but Wasabi shook his head "no it always happens here. I remember because one time I waited for her and it took ages". "Hmmm" Hiro started and Honey Lemon shook her head "maybe we should change the subject, this is kind of private". They all nodded but were still wondering where on earth Gogo was. The answer was with you.

Your POV

"I should go" Gogo said and you sighed "already? You just got here!". "It’s literally been 15 minutes!" Gogo smirked and you blinked "really? No that can’t be right". "It has, I left bang on 7 and it’s 7:15". You frowned "well what's five more minutes?” you asked and kissed her again. Gogo laughed and managed to pull away "no, if I'm any longer the brilliant bathroom reason won’t work. I have to go...but I can sneak back in when they're all asleep". Your eyes lit up at that and you nodded "okay go, I'll be waiting up for you". Gogo nodded "I'll be as quick as I can" and with a last look at you she rushed from the room.

Gogo’s POV

Gogo hurried down the corridor back to Fred's room feeling exhilarated. When she asked you out she never expected it to lead to something like this. To something this real and great. Gogo struggled to connecting to anyone but with you it just felt so natural. Usually around others she felt odd and like she had to tone down or outright change her personality to fit in. With you it wasn’t like that. You genuinely seemed to like all aspects of her and she’d never received that sort of reception before. Gogo always used to make fun of lovesick idiots but now she was one of them and she couldn’t be happier.  Gogo had a good evening with her friends but she was very relieved when they all decided it was time for bed. She waited painstakingly for them to all fall asleep and then rushed to your room where you were waiting. 

"I wish we could have more moments like this" you said curled up together and Gogo sighed "me too but now I live with Honey Lemon it's a bit more difficult". "You could stay over here anytime" you replied giving her the big doe eyes and Gogo shook her head "your parents wouldn’t like that". ""How do you know?" you asked "they know i’m gay and they like you so why wouldn’t the two...". "Y/n you know we agreed to keep this a secret" Gogo sighed sitting up. "But I think your reasons for keeping it a secret aren’t as crucial as you think they are". Gogo shook her head "y/n no matter how nice your parents are there’s no way they’d want someone like me dating their daughter. You’re the gem of the family, the one who's going to continue the family business, the mastermind who can take over from your father. They’ll want you with someone just as impressive, not a girl with no family, no money and no social status. We’re just too different okay?". You frowned as her words sunk in "well if we’re too different then what are we even doing?". Gogo paused "what?". "If we’re too different full stop then what does that mean for us? Are you saying we don’t work? Or won’t in the long term?". "Well I'm not not saying that" Gogo admitted and you shook your head "then what are we doing here Gogo? What's the point of all this? Us?". "Well we like each other and we like being together don’t we?". "Yes but you're my girlfriend Gogo not just some fun. I want to be with you openly one day and if that won’t ever happen according to you...are you saying we can’t go anywhere". Gogo swallowed "well not in the way you want, not publically". You sighed and repeated the one thought going through your head "then what's the point Gogo?". Gogo shrugged "I'm not sure then...are you suggesting we stop this?" she asked her heart racing. You paused "I want to be with you but if you won’t let it go anywhere then maybe we should. I can wait as long as you need but to just have a no full stop, I can’t live for that Gogo I just can’t". "Okay" she nodded "then I guess we have no choice but to break up". "I guess so" you nodded and Gogo stood up awkwardly. She gathered her stuff and you wrapped a blanket around yourself watching her. Once she was done she walked to your window before glancing back "well I'll see you around then I guess". You nodded "bye Gogo" and she jumped out the window.

Gogo’s POV

Gogo acted like it was no big deal but when she got back home she finally let herself feel and she cried herself to sleep. It was just so unfair, if she’d been born rich and respectable you could’ve been together but she wasn’t. She had no hope of convincing your family she was good enough for you so she just had to deal with being without you...but that was easier said than done. 

Gogo’s mood was at an all-time low. She wasn’t the most cheery person normally but all week she’d been moody and volatile. She snapped at everything and any little thing seemed to irritate her which her friends soon noticed. "Can you stop that!" Gogo yelled suddenly one day while she and her friends were eating and Wasabi paused "what? I'm not doing anything". "You're chewing loudly" she growled and they all frowned. After a few meaningful looks the bravest amongst them approached the topic. "Gogo are you okay?" HoneyLemon asked. "I'm fine why do you ask?" she snapped. "Just you've seemed a little...". "Scarier than usual" Fred finished. "No!" Honeylemon cut in "just a little more stressed than usual". Gogo sighed "I'm fine okay I just need everyone to stop annoying me for 5 freakin minutes". “Okay but if you ever need to talk to anyone...” HoneyLemon started and Gogo groaned “what did you not get about what I just said?” and she stormed away. Gogo knew she was being an absolute dick but she felt like there was no way to stop it. She just felt miserable all the time and she wasn’t the only one.  

Fred’s POV

Fred got home to hear you and your mother arguing which in itself was very odd considering how you all got on oddly well for an upper-class family. "Y/n but you’ve already accepted your place". "So? If I drop out another kid gets in so it won’t go to waste" you replied. "But this is the best university in the country and it has your favourite art form! What has gotten into you, you were so excited to go to SFIT". "Well i’m not anymore!" you yelled and stormed into your room. "Hey what's going on?" Fred asked. "Y/n suddenly doesn’t want to go to SFIT! She wants to go back to her school in France and attend the university there even though she hated it there. She’s been moody and emotional all week and I know something’s upset her but she won’t tell me what! Please Fred can you try talking to her? Work out what’s making her run away?” his mother begged. Fred nodded “of course!” and rushed to your room. He knocked on your door but got no reply so he just opened the door slowly. Fred found you crying into your pillow and his big brother instinct won over. “Y/n are you okay? he asked rushing to your side. You jumped but soon recovered and sat up trying to wipe your eyes. "No i’m not okay" you replied without any emotion, you just seemed exhausted. "Want to talk about it?" Fred asked. You shook your head "no, I just want to be left alone please". Fred nodded "okay but I'm here if you need anything okay?" and with a hug he left you.

After that Fred worried endlessly about you and the next day his friends noticed. “Hey Fred are you okay?” Hiro asked and he looked up “huh what?”. “Well I’ve seen three people pass us with superhero shirts and you haven’t said anything which is a pretty big indicator something is wrong” Hiro explained. “Fine you broke me...guys something's wrong with my sister!" Fred cried. "Why what's happened?" Honey Lemon asked and Fred explained how you'd been crying all week and suddenly wanted to get away from San Fransokyo as soon as you could. "Moms beside herself with worry and I can’t get her to tell me why she’s so upset" Fred sighed. The others all frowned and suggested possible reasons. "What if she had a bad breakup?" Wasabi suggested after a while and nobody seemed to notice that made Gogo flinched vividly. "Nahh y/n doesn’t date. Plus I asked all her friends at school and they said she hasn't shown an interest in anyone there since her ex". 

Gogo’s POV

When Fred started explaining how upset you were Gogo felt like she’d just had a bucket of water thrown over her head. Just the mention of you made her heart race and she was worried everyone would be able to read it all over her face but they didn’t seem to notice anything. The others all moved on when they couldn’t guess what was wrong and Gogo sighed momentarily in the clear...before she started thinking about you. She felt so bad for upsetting you and was horrified you were going to move all the way to France to get away from her. 

Gogo was thinking about it all day and decided she would go speak to you to convince you to stay in the city. You shouldn’t have to leave just to avoid seeing her, she’d make sure you never caught sight of her and that way you didn’t have to ditch your family or school. She was just about to leave the lab when all the monitors changed onto the same channel. It showed the view over San Fransokyo from one of the tallest towers. Everyone was muttering to one another confused when the camera panned and Gogo's blood ran cold. On top of the tower was you, strapped there cursing and yelling profoundly at Noodle Burger boy as he stuck tape over your mouth. He then explained how he’d kidnapped this civilian to force big hero 6 to come and fight him. He told them to be there within half an hour or he’d let you drop. Gogo was up before even Fred "we gave to go now!" she cried.

Big Hero 6 assembled to find robots surrounding the base of the tower but soon got overwhelmed by the reinforcements Noodle Burger Boy had brought. Gogo however had extra motivation and so she quickly disabled the bots attacking her and dodged out of the way of reinforcements. She sped into the building with one thing on her mind and soon made her way up onto the roof.

"Gogo?" you asked spotting her, although you had tape on your mouth so it was really just a noise but Gogo understood what you meant. "Y/n are you okay?" she cried rushing over. Gogo ripped the tape off your mouth and you gasped. "Damn that hurt...thanks for coming for me" you said looking away awkwardly. Gogo remembered everything Fred had said about you crying all week and she spotted the signs. Your cute nose was red and your beautiful eyes looked all tired and sad. Gogo’s impenetrable heart tightened and she wanted nothing more than to wrap you up and make it so you could never be sad again. However she wasn't sure how to do that so she focused on the most essential priority at hand. "Let's get you out of here" she said and began loosening your ropes. An explosion sounded nearby and you saw flames from below. "Almost got it" Gogo muttered before your restraints fell away and you massaged your wrists in relief "thanks". "Thank me when you're safe" Gogo replied and she began surveying a way down. She walked to the hatch and went to open it when Noodle Burger Boy appeared. "I'm sorry that reservation is mine". "Try and take her back" Gogo glared coming to stand in front of you. "No late bookings" Noodle Burger Boy cried and spat mustard at Gogo. She quickly turned, grabbed you in her arms and sped away. She disappeared around a corner and put you down. "Guys I need a lift now!" she called into her earpiece before turning back to you "stay here, I'll distract him until they get here" and she zoomed off.

Your POV

You did as Gogo said although you were itching to help her. You were just about to rush out of your hiding place unable to take it anymore when Baymax appeared. “Hello y/n” Baymax called and Hiro waved “need a ride”. “Yeah but Gogo needs help! Help her first!”. Hiro nodded and joined in the fight. You watched, now confident Gogo would be okay but Gogo wasn’t happy. “What are you doing? I’ve got this! Take y/n and go”. “We’re here to help you” Baymax replied and Gogo groaned. “I’m not going anywhere” you called and Gogo went to argue when Noodle Burger boy’s sister arrived. “Hmmm you all definitely seem to know one another...it’d be ashamed if someone fell” Trina smiled and she grabbed you in one metal hand and threw you off the tower. “Y/n!” Gogo yelled and the next thing you knew you were falling. 

Gogo’s POV

Gogo reacted without thinking, she threw herself off the tower after you. You were flailing whereas she adapted a streamlined shape so Gogo caught up to you quickly and grabbed you. “Y/n hang on!” she yelled pulling your arm around her neck. You clung onto her “what are we going to do?”. “Give me a sec” she called and pressed the keypad on her arm. The ground sped towards you but a dark shape caught your eye, Gogo’s hoverboard.” Come on hurry up!” she hissed and the disk sped towards you and abruptly caught you. You jolted but Gogo kept you upright and quickly manoeuvred the disk so you were no longer plummeting to your deaths. She darted around buildings to slow your descent before finally landing. 

Gogo let you go gently but your legs buckled under you and you fell. "Y/n" Gogo cried as you stumbled to the floor. "Are you okay?" she asked a hand under your chin and you nodded "you saved me, you risked your life for me...why?". Gogo rolled her eyes "you're the first person I'd risk my life for y/n, you mean everything to me". You blinked surprised "but I thought...we broke up". "I know and I've regretted it ever since" Gogo sighed "I...I think I'm in love with you". You gasped and Gogo blushed. She went to elaborate when Fred appeared followed by Baymax and Hiro. "Y/n ow thank god you’re safe!" Fred cried pulling you away from Gogo. Honey Lemon and Wasabi who'd been nearby and heard the whole thing tried to signal him to back off but he didn’t see. "I was so worried about you! Are you hurt? Baymax scan her right away! Gogo thank you so much for saving her I'll give you any one of my comic books my sister is that important to me". "Scan complete" Baymax spoke "y/n is in shock and her body temperature is very low as well as her blood sugar. I recommend a blanket and water followed by a warm meal".

A medic appeared and Fred had them take you away before you could even tell him not to. You were rushed away in an ambulance and the rest of the group changed before following. When Gogo arrived at the hospital she was a bag of nerves. She’d just told you she loved you and then Fred swooped in before you could say anything, she didn’t even know if she’d be rejected or not. "You okay?" Hiro asked and Gogo tensed "I'm fine, I just hope y/n is okay". Hiro nodded "I’m sure she is. You did a great job today, you beat us up to the top of the tower and we can fly!". Gogo shrugged off the compliment and anxiously counted the room numbers until she heard your voice. "I'm fine Fred, I told you Baymax just said I need a blanket and water". Fred was disagreeing with you when everyone came into the room and Fred saw Baymax. "Baymax! Come scan y/n again please". Baymax walked forwards and scanned you "y/n’s condition had improved, she does not need to be in hospital anymore". "See I told you!" you cried before you spotted Gogo. Fred started debating with Baymax and you smiled at her. She smiled back. 

"Hey, how you feeling?" she asked. "Fine I just felt a bit weak back there when the adrenaline left me. About what you said earlier...". Gogo paled "y/n it's fine don’t worry you don’t have to reply to me". "But I want to Gogo, I thought about it the whole ambulance ride and regretted that I didn't say it back. I love you too Gogo". "You do?" she asked eyes wide and you nodded "so much it's insane. that’s why I wanted us to become public and pushed you too much. It's also why I haven't been able to sleep, eat or basically do anything since we broke up...I'm sorry for pushing you too far and I'm happy going at whatever pace you want so long as I'm with you". Gogo blushed as you touched her cheek and held a hand to it "no y/n you were right to ask about the future and there’s nothing wrong with saying what you need. I think I'm finally ready to be brave. Nearly losing you today made me realise there’s nothing scarier than that". You beamed and went to kiss her when someone gasped. "Gogo...y/n what is going on?" Fred cried. You both turned to see your brother staring and you moved away from Gogo but took her hand "it's what It looks like. Gogo and I are together". Fred gasped "really? That’s so great! Mom and dad will be so happy". "They will?" Gogo asked and Fred nodded "of course, they love you! You're always so tidy and well mannered. My mom still remembers the time you saved my life when I was choking on that action figure so she will be thrilled and that’s before we tell her you saved y/n’s life too!". Gogo paused "wow really? I thought they might be wary because I'm...not upper class". "Pft they don't care about that! I've heard both my parents say they like you so they’ll honestly be thrilled you're part of the family". Gogo blushed and you smiled squeezing her hand. "Don't say it..." Gogo told you and you smirked "I won't" and kissed her cheek "I don't care who was right because i have you back. I'm too happy to gloat”. Gogo blushed all over again and just hugged you to hide it. She didn’t care who was right either. 

______

I loved Gogo and Fred’s dynamic in the show, they seemed like the oddest pairing but actually had soooo many moments together. I think they have a really good frriendship but I could be biased because strong scary girl and goofy weak guy are my favourite pairings EVER!  

I swear women who are powerful, sarcastic and have trouble expressing themselves will be the death of me. I finished the Big Hero 6 tv show and now I miss Gogo...maybe I should just restart it 😂😂

[drwcn]

CQL!AU: Everyone is an orphan except Wei Wuxian, and the Twin Jades are dark practitioners. Needless to say, that changes things. (canon what canon) 

Master Post

~

[1-3]

[1] Jiang Fengmian and Yu Ziyuan were the ones who died early. Wei Changze returned to Lotus Pier to become the guardian and regent of his best friend’s son and heir. 

Lotus Pier was black and white. Lifeless. 

That was the first thought that crossed Cangse Sanren’s mind when she and Wei Changze docked at the port, swords in hand, and their little son in toll. 

The people mourned. Posts were temporarily closed, the market suspended. Windows and doors of their bustling riverside town were firmly shut, with white and black drapes hanging from its sills and fluttering in the wind. 

Jiang Fengmian and Yu Ziyuan were dead. Two young cultivators, parents, taken from this world too young, gone before their time. 

“A-Ying, come child,” Cangse extended a hand to the boy who glanced around at the unfamiliar place with timid curiosity. 

“A-niang, what’s going on?” 

“No questions. You must behave yourself today.” Cangse brought her son closer to her, watching her husband’s usually smiling, gentle face pull taut into a mask that betrayed none of the grief he felt underneath. He held himself taller today, shoulders pulled back, spine rod-straight and jaws clenched. She’d forgotten, after all these wonderful years of travelling the world with their family, that this place was once his home. 

“Er’shixiong,” a man greeted them at the pier, flanked by a party of younger Jiang disciples, all appropriately garbed with white sashes around their waist. “Cangse-daozhang.” 

They had spoken in depth about returning. Cangse knew there was nothing she could do to stop him; Changze’s devotion to Jiang Fengmian ran deeper than she understood. It was never herself that Yu Ziyuan should’ve resented; though however misplaced Madam Yu’s jealousy had been, it was a moot point now.  

Chang’ge, I will not ask you to choose between your love for him and your promise to me. If Lotus Pier is where you wish to go, I will go with you. I cannot promise however that I will always stay. That — is not my nature. 

Thank you, Wumei*. I understand. 

They found Jiang Wanyin, the little lord, and his sister Jiang Yanli, in their mourning robes, kneeling and crying before their parents’ funeral altar.  

Wei Changze sunk to his knees beside them, and folded his body until his forehead hit the ground. “Shixiong,” he spoke to the spirits. “I’ve come back.” 

“Who are you?!” The boy Jiang Cheng, five-years-old and hurting, blurted out rudely through his tears. His sister held him from behind and gave a trembling nod of deference to the older man. 

“Wei-shishu.”  

Beside her, clinging to her skirt, Wei Ying looked up and asked quietly, “A-niang, are we going to stay?” 

Cangse Sanren, the favoured fifth pupil of Baoshan Sanren herself, smiled down quietly at her only child and smoothed back his hair. “Yes, A-Ying we will. Lotus Pier is home now.” 

(JC 5 yro; WWX 5 yro; JYL 8 yro)

[2] When Qingheng-jun’s respected mentor died - murdered - he made a very different choice. He turned his back on his clan and his responsibilities, and escaped into the wild with the woman he loved. They were just an ordinary family, living away from the chaos in a paradise of their own. But even Eden eventually falls, and nothing gold ever stays... 

Take A-Huan and A-Zhan and go! Do not stop until you are safe. Do not turn around. Do not come back. 

Shijie! You’re injured! Let me help you - 

Zhao Ming! Zhao Zhuliu, you listen to me: their names, Lan Xichen for the older, and Lan Wangji for the younger. It’s what their father and I wanted for them. 

Shijie - jiejie - 

Now go! Go! 

A-Niang, come with us! A-Niang, don’t go!! A-Niang!!! 

The forest burned like the autumn sun at dusk descending from the sky, red and golden and glorious. A single figure stood amongst the flames, corpses littered at her feet. Bichen fell from her grip, barely making a sound as it landed against dampened earth, soaked with Lan blood.  Those who fought her were dead, but she feared that she did not have long either.

“Rong-gege,” Qiu Baiti collapsed onto her hands and dragged her body towards the man who lay still amongst the carnage, arrows piercing his front, his sword Shuoyue still clutched tight in his left hand. 

Lifeless eyes remained open, as though he could not rest. 

“Rong-gege,” Baiti called helplessly, crawling to him and laying her head down against his chest. There used to be a heartbeat there, and if she closed her eyes, she could almost hear it again. “Wait, don’t go without me...” 

She was so tired and bled from so many places. It was not until a sharp cry and a familiar face descended from the sky that Qiu Baiti realized the inferno which surrounded her was not yet hell. 

"Qiu-jiejie!" Cangse rushed forth, almost tripping over the corpse of a dead Lan disciple in her haste. “Lan-da’ge, he -” A horrified gasp drowned the rest of her words. 

“Cangse...you’re here...” 

Cangse gathered her bosom sister into her arms and immediately drew upon a torrent of spiritual energy from her core, channeling them into her fingertips to heal her friend. She could tell that whatever combat Qiu Baiti had been through, it had already taken the little life inside her, and now hers was following it to the other side.   

“Hold on, I can save you - hold on -”

“Cangse - Cang - stop, it’s too late.” Qiu Baiti lay limp there.  

Death, it drew near, but she was ready. She closed her eyes as a slip of tear escaped beneath her lashes. "I did this to him, to all of them... if I hadn't...it’s all my fault. I was the one they wanted; he was just trying to protect me. A-Huan, A-Zhan...."

Trembling and in near hysterics, Cangse sobbed, “No, don’t say that! Where are the boys?” 

“Safe. A-Ming has them...you mustn’t tell anyone. Not anyone, promise me. Not even Lan Qiren. Especially Lan Qiren... Rong-gege trusts his brother, but I - I - promise me - promise -” Qiu Baiti gasped for breath, gurgling blood in her throat with each laboured attempt. 

“Qiu-jiejie, please - don’t - I - I promise.” 

“Good...Cangse...” Qiu Baiti clutched her hand and smiled, a crimson wound cutting across her pale, beautiful face. “Good.” 

And then she died, with the red of the forest flames still in her eyes. 

Cangse held her friend - dear, damned, dead - and allowed a scream to tear through herself. From the depth of her grief, she released a pulse of unrestrained spiritual energy that rippled through the dense woods as though the storm of her anguish could not be contained. And like a measly candle-light assaulted by the winter wind, the forest fire was extinguished in an instant. 

The sun was gone, and the night was dark.  All was quiet, but there was no peace to be found. 

 Cangse buried Lan Cenrong and Qiu Baiti in two unmarked graves side by side beneath a tall oak tree. She sifted through the bodies and the grime and collected the spiritual weapons they left behind — Shuoyue, Bichen, Liebing (cracked in two places) and the strings of Qiu Baiti’s shattered guqin — and stored them away in her qiankun pouch. She hoped one day that she would find Zhao Zhuliu and the sons Lan Cenrong and Qiu Baiti had left behind, and return these items to their rightful owners. 

It was not until three years later, not too far from her shifu Baoshan’s sacred temple nestled in the snowy mountain peak, where Jiang Yanli had been brought to strengthen her health and train as Cangse’s direct disciple, that Cangse perchance came across Zhao Ming again. 

He was accompanied by two youngsters, two beautiful jade-like children who called him jiufu. Cangse was not surprised in the least to find that both of them have learned the technique for which their mother and jiujiu were hunted: the core-melting hand. 

(LXC 9, LWJ 6 -> LXC 12, LWJ 9 ) 

[3] They called her “The Little Queen”. Wen Qing never wanted to be Sect Master, or Deputy Sect Master, or Regent Sect Master. She just wanted to live quietly with A-Ning and Wen-popo and study the art of healing that her parents practiced. But alas, life had other plans. 

Wen Qing was a month short of her tenth birthday when her life changed forever. 

Wen Ruohan, her father’s older cousin, who’d always been close with her family, had come to visit Dafan. Wen-bobo didn’t have siblings, and her father Wen Ruotian was as close as a brother to him, more than any other Wen descendent of their time. 

Wen Qing liked Wen Ruohan well. He was doting and found her intelligent. Her parents chose the simple village life, but they often spent New Years and holy days at Nevernight at Sect Master Wen’s behest and invitation.  

When Wen Ruohan came to Dafan and told her folks that there was a piece of the Yin Iron inside the Stone Fairy, her father had been eager to help, though weary he was of those powers he could not understand. 

He’d been right to be afraid. 

The extraction had gone horribly wrong, and the rebound of dark energy had eviscerated all those near by, her mother, her father, and Wen Ruohan himself. It was by the skin of her teeth that Wen Qing managed to yank her baby brother Wen Ning out of the way. Then, without thinking, she caught the vile, wretched thing as it sailed through the air. It landed in the palm of her hands, and there she stood, regarded with fear and bewonderment from all those in witness as the cursed item, which burned the life out of cultivators much older and seasoned than her, quieted in her small hands. 

The Elders said she had...a nature affinity. For what, they could not say. 

Wen Qing was brought back to Nevernight and given the name Yuefan: to exceed mortality. Within days, the heavy crown of Sect Master of Qishan Wen was placed on her head. 

It was then that she learned that her Wen-bobo, with no inclination to marry and bind himself to another, did not leave behind a legitimate heir. His young sons, 4-year old Wen Xu and 2 year-old Wen Chao were born to him by women of ill repute.  They were kind, good boys, but they were infantile and illegitimate. Wen Qing felt for them, but she could not change their fate. So for the time being, she accepted what she had to. 

The adults did what they could for her, but there was no one in the cold, vast palace of Nevernight to mind her or nurture her. She stood alone upon the towers where the eternal flames, fuelled by Qishan Wen’s combined spiritual energy, burned in their iron brazier, and watched over the lush volcanic mountain range that was hers to govern and protect. Those beneath her - servants, disciples - feared her and her unknown powers. Those advising her - Elders, mentors - had their own agendas. In any case, they stopped seeing her as a child the minute she held the Yin Iron in her hands and lived to tell the tale. 

It was a secret, they told her. She must guard it well. 

The Chief Cultivator Jin Guangshan sent his ambassadors to congratulate her succession. Gusu’s Lan Qiren and Qinghe’s Nie Heqiu both arrived consecutively to pay their respects to their ten-year-old colleague and fellow Sect Master. 

There was a momentary rumble amongst the Wen Elders about whether Nie Heqiu’s older son Nie Mingjue would be a good match for her someday, but as he too was set to inherit, the idea was put aside as quickly as it was brought up. 

Then came Yunmeng’s regent Wei Changze, bringing along an entourage of Jiang disciples and a boy one year her junior, the son he conceived with the revered Cangse Sanren. 

Wei Wuxian. 

Wen Qing liked him enough. He was spontaneous, agreeable, and clever, and he found her aloofness fun to provoke. They would’ve both been satisfied with the arrangement had she not met Yunmeng Jiang’s young Jiang-zongzhu some years later, and had he not crossed paths with the vengeful and infamous Lan Wangji. 

But life, as the gods have planned it, must have its mysteries. 

(WQ 10, WWX 9) 

TBH?  

Note: 

Wumei - fifth sister, Wei Changze’s nickname for Cangse. 

Details of Cangse and Wei Changze’s name as well as Qingheng-jun and Madam Lan’s name can be found here .

jiufu 舅父 - maternal uncle, formal.  

[cursestothemoon]

I Won’t Say I’m In Love

i.

Fred Weasley x Fem!Slytherin!Reader

Read the summary here

Warnings: Language, suggestive themes

Word Count: 2569

SERIES MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST

(i found the picture on google, there is a name on it but other than that i am not sure who owns it. I do not.)

The leaves, newly fallen from the on coming of Autumn, crunched under the feet of hurrying students. Hogwarts had begun it’s new school year, witches and wizards were hurrying from boats and carts to get into the castle and catch up with friends. Just outside of the dining Hall was a sea of students, chattering with friends, everyone staying in clumps of like colors.

Gryffindors stayed with their own, as did Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs were the ones to intermingle the most, having friends in almost every house. Then there was the house of Salazar Slytherin, a proud bunch, robes of green tightly knit together leaving no room for outsiders or stragglers, not that the other houses (excluding Hufflepuff) thought highly enough of the green and silver house to make friends.

Y/n L/n, a proud member of Slytherin stood proud with her friends and housemates. Her chin was held high, a playful smirk painted delicately on her features as she listened to Blaise Zabini give a recount of his summer holiday. Blaise had always been a nice boy, his mother was a beautiful woman who was familiar with the front page of many high end wizarding fashion magazines. Then there was Lily Webberforth, another pureblood from a family of wealth, she was in Y/n’s year and a cherished friend.

“Father said he’d be purchasing a new peacock for the manor, though he couldn’t decide between albino or not.” Draco informed.

Draco Malfoy had wormed his way into the group during second year, a good kid...when he wanted to be, but absolutely snotty otherwise.

“Y/n, how about you wear my jersey for the first game of the season?” Adrian Pucey asked, arm slinging around Y/n’s shoulders making her internally cringe.

She was never a fan of being touched and Adrian seemed to be all for it when it came to her. They were in the same year and he’d been trying to convince Y/n to make it official since third year. She preferred to play with him rather than commit to him. It was easier that way, being able to differentiate her feelings from an early age, she knew she didn't particularly like him, but they had a few good nights and now she can’t shake him. He had become rougher over the years, harsh and controlling with an affinity for blackmail.

“No my clothes are just fine, Pucey, thanks.” She shrugged off his arm as Lily snickered at the exchange, finding joy in giving Adrian a look that told him ‘better luck next time’.

Adrian, not the biggest fan of rejection then turned to Lily in hopes of getting a jealous rise out of Y/n.

“What about you, Lils? You’ll wear my jersey won’t you?”

Lily shook her head, “I’m on the team with you, clear why you're not in Ravenclaw isn't it?”

Y/n laughed at the comment and moved to stand next to Lily, away from Adrian. Luckily, he got the message, for now, and left to find Marcus Flint.

“Have you seen the twins yet?” Lily asked, leaning closer to Y/n to make sure she wasn't overheard.

The girl gave her a questioning look before asking, “Why would I go looking for them?”

“Their hair’s come in nice, looking a bit shabby last year, remember?”

“Yeah, they’ve finally cut it?”

Lily shook her head, her eyes glowing with excitement, “Even better, it’s grown out a bit longer. Real nice looking, George looks rather well I’d say.”

“I always figured you had a thing for him.” Y/n laughed.

“Oh please, you and I both know that you love how much attention Fred gives you.”

Y/n tried to respond, really she did, but she was both out of words and interrupted by Lily again.

“Look, here they come.” Her voice was quite as she nudged her head in the direction behind Y/n.

Y/n turned slowly, in no rush to give Fred Weasley the satisfaction of having him know they were talking about him. When she did finally meet his eyes she couldn’t help but agree with Lily, his hair had grown out quite handsomely and he seemed to have reached an impossible height, well over the six feet he towered at in the previous year.

“Ladies.” They greeted simultaneously, Fred eyeing Y/n as they neared.

She gave a silent nod to them as Lily vocally greeted them with a reserved, “Hey.”

“News is that the first match of the season has our houses against each other. Shame isn’t it, Poppet? You can’t cheer for me.” Fred asked, arms crossing in front of his chest and lips stretching to a smirk.

Anyone could tell Fred was proud of his large frame, as a beater he worked hard for his toned arms, and thick biceps but his height was a complete natural gift bestowed upon him by the gods and he wouldn’t waste their generosity.

Y/n snorted, “Oh yeah, makes me feel empty inside when I can’t cheer for you, Weasley.”

“I know, no need to tell me. I fill you right up don’t I?”

The comment made her sneer at him, but she was unable to say anything back as her house was called into the Great Hall for the beginning of the year feast. Fred watched her leave as George poked fun at his inability to charm his way into her heart with innuendos and sarcasm.

It annoyed Fred, it was common knowledge that you had been with a few guys, some people even going as far as giving Y/n an undeserved title for it. Unfortunately, common knowledge happened to be a common rumor made by people who disliked her. Fred didn’t know this however and her constant rejection made him wonder, what did all those other guys have that he didn't?

Y/n and Fred had a back and forth relationship, neither being afraid to throw jabs at the other with the underlying tone of flirtiness yet both of them knowing the line not to cross. Fred thought she was ethereal, the way she seemed to glow as she walked through the halls had him weak in the knees. Her voice was buttery and soft, a velvety quality that seemed to grasp onto each of his heartstrings. Fred was head over heels for her and he hated it so he used sarcasm and a condescending tone to combat his feelings. Over time this developed into a false belief that he really didn’t like her, she was cunning, sly, and so easy to hate when he couldn’t love her.

--

Lily and Y/n sat in potions class, potion already brewed and completed as they gossiped in hushed tones and watchful eyes.

“So, anything new with Weasley?”

Y/n didn’t need a first name to know who her friend was referring to and she groaned.

“No, and there never will be.”

A loud groan emitted from Lily’s lips, “When are you gonna stop lying to yourself? I can see right through you.”

“There is no chance, no way that I’d ever fall for him.”

“You’d never fall for him or you’d never let yourself?”

The following silence was just as good of an answer as any, and Lily gave her a smug looking knowing she had won the argument.

Class ended shortly after that exchange, Y/n and Lily now having a free period chose to hang out in the room with the goblet of fire, watching as people put their names in. It was only last night that Fred and George had voiced their complaints quite loudly at the age restriction and Y/n was excited to rub it in Fred’s face that she was of age. Of course she wasn’t going to put her name in the goblet, she had better things to worry about than some tournament.

Lily and Y/n entered the hall at seemingly the wrong time, seeing as Fred and George had run through the doors leaving the girls in their dust. The whoops and hollers from bystanders made Y/n roll her eyes much to Lily’s amusement.

“How can you not be annoyed by their arrogance?” Y/n asked incredulously.

Her friend shrugged, “They are amusing.”

Y/n ignored the comment as they neared the twins.

“It’s not going to work.” She sing-songed loud enough for them to hear as she walked by.

Fred and George heard the comment and made a b-line for her and Lily. Fred plopped down behind Y/n, his face turning to meet her eyes, George doing the same to Lily.

“You don’t think that, do you Lily?” George asked Lily with a feigned look of childlike innocence.

“Come on, Poppet, have a little faith in me.” Fred said, a sarcastic look of pleading falling over his features.

For extra effect Fred jutted out his bottom lip making Y/n laugh at his ridiculousness, and oh how he loved to have her attention to himself.

“It’s incredibly dimwitted.” Y/n answered.

Lily nodded, “See that there?” She pointed to a white line around the goblet as she continued, “it’s an age line. Dumbledore drew it himself -”

“Meaning something as pathetically dimwitted as an aging potion isn’t going to get past it.” Y/n finished.

Fred tsked as he shook his head, “That’s why it’s so brilliant.”

“Because it’s so pathetically dimwitted.”

The twins stood up abruptly and Y/n’s eyes followed Fred’s figure. The way his jaw flexed as he drank the potion and his hair flopped when he jumped down from the bench with George made Y/n lose grasp on her emotions for just a moment.

He was good looking, she couldn’t deny it. Fred Weasley seemed to be built by the gods, his hair burned as that of Ares’, and his face chiseled to the likeness of Apollo. But Y/n had been there and done that with pretty boys, all of them were the same and wouldn’t give in to another one. She refused to let herself fall for him, afraid of the repercussions of really loving him.

The fire let out an angry growl that brought Y/n’s mind back to that room and what was happening, with good timing too as she then watched George and Fred get thrown a few feet in the air and land away from the age line. They sprouted long grey beards and got into a tussle on the floor.

The sight made Y/n giggle before she quickly regained her composure and acted as unbothered as possible making Lily roll her eyes. It would’ve been a fairly enjoyable time, regardless of what Y/n would’ve told Fred, but Adrian Pucey walking into the hall made her shrink in her chair as she grimaced.

“Go, don’t think he’s seen you yet.” Lily whispered, eyes trained on the other Slytherin.

Y/n nodded and hugged the walls as she made her way to the door, hopefully, unseen. She celebrated too early, and her face fell as she heard the unmistakable tone just as she made it through the doors.

“Running away from me?” Adrian called, his smirk evident in his words.

She stopped, turning to look at him as she spoke, “Don’t be so surprised. You ought to have realized by now your company isn’t wanted.”

“Come on Y/n, give us a chance. You know you want to.” He said coming closer to her.

“Really, Adrian, I don’t.”

Adrian reached out to pull her under his arm and forced her to walk with him, the act making her tense up but he didn’t seem to mind. He leaned closer to her ear, his breath hitting her skin making her incredibly uncomfortable.

“You’re mine, you know that don’t you? And no fucking ginger is going to get in my way.” He growled.

“You’re disgusting.” She spat, eyes burning with the anger of Hephaestus’ greatest fire.

Adrian laughed as he leaned closer to Y/n’s ear making her give an uncomfortable shiver, “Careful, darling, your feelings are showing.”

--

“Miss me, poppet?”

Fred Weasley’s voice was chipper and cheery as he greeted Y/n in their first class of the day. He had just woken up and it showed, his red hair looked as though it was hastily brushed through with his own fingers and his eyes still a bit puffy. He looked positively endearing as he took a seat at his table with George, just behind Lily and Y/n.

“Ridiculously.” Y/n mumbled, not looking up from her Herbology book.

“We’re only a few weeks in, what could you possibly be studying for?” Fred asked as he leaned over his desk to catch a glimpse at what you were looking at.

You glanced at him momentarily before looking back at your book, “Just giving myself an idea of what to expect.”

“Not a bad idea.” George said, considering doing it himself.

Fred gave him a funny look before turning his attention back to the girl in front of him, chin resting on his hand propped up by his elbow on the desk. She wasn’t paying attention to him, instead focusing on the book in front of her. She was slightly to the side allowing Fred the perfect view of her face without giving her the satisfaction of knowing he was staring at her.

Y/n’s hair fell in gentle waves down to kiss the top of her hips, she had fring that framed the length of her face and parted in the middle that was incredibly voluminous. Her eyes were focused with intense determination as she read, face relaxed as she was completely absorbed in what she was doing. Fred noticed early on that she rarely laughed, a genuine, eye crinkling, giggle but instead always had a look of unbothered casualness. He couldn’t understand this, not in the slightest, seeing as he was sure he had smile lines forming already.

He wanted to know more about the ethereal Slytherin, he craved it with everything in his being. Something about her drew him in, held him in place and refused to let him go.

Deep in thought, Fred failed to notice her eyes now looking at him with a curious glint and her hand coming out to poke him with her index finger.

“Alright, Weasley?” Her eyebrows were furrowed and Fred shrugged off the bubbly feeling he got in his gut.

He smirked, “Aw, do you care about my well being? Georgie hold me I may swoon.”

George laughed and shook his head at his brother, Lily joining in on the laughs as she watched Y/n’s face contort to one of distaste.

“Oi, Freddie’s got himself a girlfriend.” Lee Jordan, a close friend of Fred and George’s called from his table on the other side of the greenhouse.

Fred gave a short chuckle, his defenses coming up instantaneously as he tried to ignore the burning of his cheeks. And maybe if he hadn’t been so keen on putting down any and all rumors of him having feelings for Y/n he would’ve noticed the shy smile that graced Y/n’s lips as she turned her face away from the boys.

But alas, he didn't, and instead opened his mouth to shout over to Lee.

“My standards aren't that low, mate. I’d just as soon shag a goblin, Godric knows they’d be less bothersome.”

Taglist

@freddieweasleyswife​  @anywherebuthere​ 

[forlove2020]

Day 2 - No Vacancy

It is the last day of November and no one wants to buy any more pumpkins. 

Halloween has gone by, and Thanksgiving has blown past too. The people of Lebanon, Kansas have had their fill of the bright orange gourds - for more than two months they've displayed them on their front porches, carved them into jack-o-lanterns, and added them into every kind of dessert and frothy little drink imaginable.

And that is why, on November 30th, Dean decides his family is going on a field trip to the Lebanon Corn Maze and Pumpkin Patch.

Things have been good lately. No, scratch that. Life has been freakin' awesome. It has been just under two weeks since he rescued Cas from the Empty and a week since Jack came home. Dean is over the moon; radiating happiness in a way he never has before. They're all together, alive, and no Big Bad hovers menacingly on the horizon. Dean's not one to believe in a 'best case scenario,' but hell if this doesn't feel just like it.

The farm is about a twenty-five minute drive from the Bunker, and Dean, Cas, and Jack pull up in the Impala at the same time as Sam and Eileen arrive in Sam's CR-V. 

(Dean had teased him mercilessly about his new ride until Sam looked him dead in the eye, placing his hand protectively on Eileen's protruding belly, and insisted "Honda gets really good safety ratings, Dean." Dean, wisely, had shut up after that.)

Claire and Kaia are already there waiting, leaning up against Claire’s car, hand in hand. Jack leaps out of Baby as soon as Dean puts her in park, barreling toward the girls so he can nag Claire about his latest obsession: TikTok. Even from a distance it’s clear she’s rolling her eyes at him, but smiling despite herself

Dean and Cas get out of the car at a more leisurely pace and survey their surroundings.

What had been a busy festival complete with a lush corn maze, vibrant pumpkin patch, and stalls selling kettle corn and caramel apples two months ago is now a dismal scene. The corn maze has dried out and shriveled up, and the stalls are unmanned. Technically, there are still pumpkins aplenty in the field, but they're the ones that have been forsaken. The remaining pumpkins are leftovers that were considered either too skinny, too fat, or just too misshapen and lumpy to have been picked as the cream-of-the-crop.

Dean looks over at Cas. He’s squinting at the scenery in the dim autumn sunlight, and the nippy breeze has swept through his dark hair, making it seem more tousled than usual. Not for the first time, Dean thinks that he is gorgeous.

But now, he can actually tell Cas what he is feeling in these moments. There are no more half-truths or lies between them, nothing secret. After years of pining for one another without any hope of reciprocation and hiding the pains of longing, they’ve finally broken down the walls that kept them apart. They love one another fiercely, and while their relationship is new, it is not tenuous. 

So, Dean turns to him with a crooked grin.  “Hey, handsome.”

Cas blinks, and then a little smile curls the corners of his mouth. “Hello, Dean.”

Dean moves closer until their shoulders are brushing and he can feel the warmth of Cas’ body through both of their jackets. “You think Jack’s gonna be disappointed?” he asks quietly, watching their kid practically tackle Sam with a hug as Eileen signs something Dean can’t quite make out from the other end of the parking lot. “I mean, this isn’t exactly the ‘autumn glory’ we were promised on those fliers earlier this month.”

Cas doesn’t even hesitate. “No. I think Jack just appreciates having a normal...uh, sort of a normal life again. He’s excited to be here picking pumpkins, especially with Claire and Kaia, and Sam and Eileen joining us. This was a nice surprise you planned for him, Dean.”

It’s a simple compliment, and not even particularly saccharine, but Dean flushes from head to toe anyway. He’s working on believing the good things Cas says about him; he’s really trying, but it’s always been difficult for him to take a compliment about anything other than his good looks or hunting prowess. Instead, he meets Cas’ eye, and nods silently. And then, remembering he is allowed, takes Cas’ hand in his own, twining their fingers together.

They walk hand-in-hand to join Claire, Kaia, Jack, Sam and Eileen at the front gate. It’s hanging wide open, and no one is standing there to charge them an entrance fee. However, the sign does make a point to state that the maze is open until December 1st. Eileen shrugs, and so the seven of them wander down the path towards the pumpkin patch and the entrance to the maze. 

“Kaia! I’ll race you to the end!” Jack shouts, and laughing, Kaia chases him into the maze, dragging a grumbling Claire along behind her. 

“Let’s see if we can find anybody still working,” Sam suggests.

Eileen points at a worn down farmhouse tucked mostly behind a newly-painted red barn. “Someone must be home,” she signs pointedly, gesturing to plumes of smoke exuding from a grey chimney stack.

Dean ends up knocking on the door. He leaves Sam, Eileen, and Cas at a nearby picnic table, debating in Sign Language about the best flavor of cotton candy and whether or not the color of the dye changes the taste. 

 A minute or two later, an older man swings open the squeaky screen door to the house. He’s scowling, wearing muddy overalls, and chewing on a thick cigar. “Yeah?” he asks shortly. “Whaddya want?”

Dean raises his eyebrows at the farmer’s bluntness, but manages to respond politely. “My family and I saw fliers for this place a few weeks ago. We were hoping to buy some pumpkins and candy apples. What are you charging”

The farmer’s scowl grows deeper, and he looks past Dean to Sam, Eileen, and Cas relaxing on the bench, then narrows his eyes at the corn maze, where shrieks of laughter can be heard as the younger adults chase one another through the thinning stalks.

Getting impatient, with the man’s surly silence, Dean prods, “And…? It’s a yes or no question. Are you still selling pumpkins?”

The old man pulls the cigar out from between his teeth. “My wife and daughter run this hokey shit,” he grunts. “They went into town today ‘cause folks already came through here earlier in the month. They like customers. We haven't had anybody else stop by since before Thanksgiving.”

As his temper flares, Dean turns his grit teeth into a sharp smile. “Well, then it’s your lucky day! Here we are,” he says mockingly, sweeping his arms wide. The farmer mumbles something insulting and covers it with a hacking cough. Dean pretends not to hear him, “Fine. I take it from your sunny attitude that there will be no popcorn or apples today?” 

The man scoffs, “Enjoy the maze, boy-o. Free of charge.” He turns to lumber back inside, but Dean grabs the screen door before he can try to disappear.

“Hey!” the hunter barks. The farmer pauses, his body tensing for a fight. “Are you gonna sell me the goddamn pumpkins or not?” 

Cas has wandered to his side, either noticing the commotion, or simply because he wanted to be closer to Dean. Now, he interrupts casually, “You still have quite a few squash left in the fields and there’s going to be heavy frost two days from now, overnight. It’d be a shame if all of these pumpkins rotted, and you wasted the rest of your harvest.”

He has, quite deftly, snared the salty old farmer’s attention. Money is the man’s language; he might not enjoy having customers on his property so late in the season, but he certainly likes having the funds to maintain his land.

****************************************

“A hundred.”

“A hundred?” Sam sounds insulted. “You’re gonna pitch all of these in a couple days. There’s no way we’re paying a hundred. Try twenty-five dollars.”

The farmer rolls his eyes dramatically. He is in his element; the thrill of making a good deal and bartering his wares on the last day is an unexpected but welcome surprise that has put him in high spirits. “You’re cute, kid. I know my produce is worth more than that. I’ll go down to eighty-five, and you can take whatever you can carry in one trip.”

“Thirty-five,” Sam shoots back.

“Eighty.”

“Forty-one.” Once, Sam was going to be a lawyer. He’s got the upper hand in this situation and he’s going to crush his opposition. One more price reduction and they’ll have dozens of pumpkins to take home, way below the original asking price.

“Sevent…”

“Sixty-five, and we fill up all of our cars,” Dean interrupts, and Sam looks at him, utterly betrayed as the gleeful farmer shakes on the deal.

As Cas, Jack, Claire, and Kaia help carry the pumpkins to Sam and Claire’s cars respectively, Dean just claps Sam on the shoulder and tells his brother, “It’s still a cheaper family outing than going to Disney.” 

“Yeah, I guess,” Sam says mournfully, and sulks over to help Eileen, who is supervising the influx of pumpkins that are being loaded into their vehicle.

Dean chuckles, and scoops up a few pumpkins. He’s got some recipes he wants to try out, plus he’s excited to teach Jack to carve ‘Jack’-o-lanterns. The kid seemed to want to learn how to do everything the human way now, and Dean is more than happy to teach him.

One by one, Dean places eight pumpkins in the backseat of Baby. One is tall and oblong with lots of stringy stems, matched with the only short and well rounded pumpkin he sees in the field. Between those two he sets a teeny tiny baby-sized pumpkin. Then, there’s a pumpkin that is half-green half-orange. It seems like it must have grown too fast because it is still quite young despite its size. Next, he adds two medium pumpkins that are also young, but growing strong. And last but not least, he picks up two more pumpkins. They are both a bit damaged - one is bruised and discolored, the other looks like it might have grown sideways. But Dean picks them because they lean against one another in the field, steady despite their flaws, despite what they’ve been through. 

He sets them all up in a long line along the backseat, and when Cas sees what he chose, his eyes go soft and warm as he looks at Dean.

“Let’s go home,” he breathes out, and takes Dean’s hand again.

Everyone gets in their cars - Dean in the driver's seat and Cas taking shotgun, as before. Jack tries to get in the Impala, then looks in the back window, and starts laughing. 

“Dean! There’s nowhere for me to sit.”

Cas chuckles quietly beside him, as Dean grins. “Aw, tough break, kid. Guess you’re walking home.”

“Hey, no fair- Dean! C’mon! Cas! Tell Dean he has to -”

Dean starts to roll up the window, laughing loudly as Jack knocks on the window pane.

“Sorry! No vacancy!” he hollers. Jack is nearly doubled over, hilarity spilling from him in peals of laughter.

Claire honks her horn loudly, and throws open the back door to her car. Jack straightens, and scrambles to join her and Kaia, shooting Dean and Cas a bright wave goodbye.

Sam and Eileen also wave as they leave the parking lot, wheels sending gravel spinning in their wake. Claire and Kaia follow, and Jack rolls down the window as they pass, and calls across to Cas and Dean, “This was the best family trip ever!”

They too are soon gone, headed for the Bunker to drop off dozens of pumpkins which will decorate every room until they end up decaying or until Dean cooks them. 

Dean and Cas wait until the others have left, and then Dean leans over and kisses Cas, long and sweet. When he pulls back, Cas traces his cheek, and says thoughtfully, “We could take the backroads home today….”

Dean is so gone on him. He kisses Cas once, twice more, and then puts the Impala in drive, and they’re on the road, taking the long way home.

**********************************

I enjoyed adding a little Day 1 ‘Harvest’ flare to Day 2!

My goal is to make most of my Suptober fics one-shots that are in some way related to my multichapter fix-it that is still a work in progress (Dean/Cas, Sam/Eileen, etc, post 15x20).

Thank you for reading!

-V

[uwuwriting]

Bakugou and Todoroki w/ future kids but they meet the reader first

Request: I know you just wrote the future kids thing but I never see the reverse scenario happen where the kid meets the reader. But maybe because they're young or the reader isn't with the boi (Bakugou in this case who doesn't have a hero name yet and maybe the reader doesn't either) The kid keeps saying his parents hero names until he finally runs into Bakugou. The kid didn't realize the reader was the mom until they stood next to Bakugou. - anonymous 

I really enjoyed writing the future kids requests mainly because they were the cutest along side some dad requests I got recently. So I chose these two since we don’t have hero names for them and you didn’t specify any characters so yeah. If you want me to write for others please don’t hesitate to ask. Love yaa.💖💖💖

warnings: fluff, some mild panic

Bakugou Katsuki

-You had gone shopping with Tsuyu and Ochako but had parted ways when the girls had been called in from their agencies. 

-Making your way back to the dorms, you were vibin along with your music when you felt a small tug at your pant leg.

-Looking down you were met with a pair of small e/c eyes staring back at you with a few stray ash blonde locks swaying along the autumn breeze. 

-The little figure stared at you for a moment, a poker face adorning his features before he spoke. 

- “Excuse me, do you know where the Ground Zero agency is?”

-You had never heard of such an agency and kneeling down you looked at the small boy.

- “I’m sorry sweetheart but I don’t know an agency by that name. Who are your parents? Maybe we can find them.”

-The boy looked at you with confusion and some irritation sprinkled on top, for a few moments before letting out a sigh and telling you that his parents were pro heroes.

-His mother apparently was on a mission across seas so they couldn’t really contact her  but his dad, the number two hero , Ground Zero  would definitely help. 

-At first you thought that the boy was confused since the number two hero right now was Hawks and you didn’t know anyone by that hero name. 

-And you told the boy that he was wrong but he was adamant, insisting that his daddy was number two.

-When you mentioned Hawks he titled his little head to the side and said rather matter of factly that Hawks had retired long before he was born.

-That was weird to say the least.

-With everything that the boy told you you were beyond confused and you decided to take him to Aizawa, thinking it was the best course of action. 

-Offering the boy your hand he hesitantly took it saying that his mommy always said that he shouldn’t trust strangers. 

- “But you look very familiar so I trust you. Kinda.”

-And with that you walked hand in hand to the dorms with the intention to find Aizawa in his room.

-Along the way however you heard yelling coming from the common room and you mentally prepared yourself for the tantrum that Katsuki must be throwing in there. 

-Halting your steps you leaned down to the boy ready to prepare him for what was to come only to be met with an ecstatic little human chanting ‘daddy’ under his breath.

-His eyes were practically shinning while he was making mini hops here and there, trying to mask his excitement. 

-If you were being honest he reminded you of yourself when you get fired up but his appearance practically screamed Bakugou at you.

-You have had a crush on Katsuki for some time now but you’ve attempted to drown your feelings and save yourself the humiliation and heart break. 

-Key word: attempted.

- “You excited there kiddo?”

-He looked up at you with a large smile on his tiny face.

- “That sounds like my daddy! Mommy always says that shouting might be part of his quirk and every time she says that, daddy and I need to tickle her until she takes it back.”

- “Well if your father is anything like the baka you are about to meet than god help your mother.” you mumbled under your breath, the boy too excited to pay attention to you, as you pushed the door open and stepped inside. 

-You made to walk to Aizawa’s room when his voice boomed through the room. 

- “Oi this isn’t a nursery. What are you doing?” 

- “Shut it Bakugou!’

- “Did you kidnap the kid? ‘Cause it seems that he’s trying to get away from your dumbass.”

-He wasn’t wrong. 

-The boy was trying to leave your grasp that you had unconsciously tightened when you started talking with Bakugou.

-The little boy looked back at you and mouthed ‘That’s daddy!!!’ before prying your hand off of his wrist and running to the couch that Bakugou was sitting. 

-He looked at the child with a scowl on his face, his eyes darting over the boys’ features noticing some resemblances to himself but also some of your characteristics. 

-The kid certainly had his hair and face structure but his eyes, nose and mouth were all you. 

-And don’t get him started on that cute grin he had on his face that was a carbon copy of the one you have. 

-Bakugou hated to admit that he had a crush on you. 

-You had caught his eye when you had roasted him during your first week of school and you two had been bickering back and forth ever since, feelings starting to develop on both sides but neither of you being brave enough to actually confess. 

- “Y/N why the hell is your brother looking at me like that?”

-At that the boy snapped his head to you, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape the grin he adorned just a few seconds ago being replaced by a really confused look. 

- “He’s not my brother, I found him! Now if you’ll excuse us I have to find Aizawa and clear things out.”

-The boy didn’t move an inch as you approached him, his eyes fixated on your face and as you leaned forward to grab him he wrapped both his arms around your neck and manhandled you onto the couch, making you fall on top of Katsuki. 

-The blushes on your faces were legendary.

-The kid was staring at you two and suddenly jumped on top of BOTH of you making Katsuki groan.

- “Mommy, mommy i thought you were in America with auntie Mina! Why did you pretend you didn’t know me? Why is daddy so small? Where are we?”

-Bakugou was staring at the kid shooting question after question as you on the other hand were on the brink of passing out from the word mommy. 

- “Oi, oi slow down. What’s your name shrimp?”

-He looked at Katsuki with a frown before roll his eyes and answering. 

- “Bakugou Tatsuo you old man.”

-They had to bring you to Recovery girl because you passed out and both Bakugou men were panicking.

Todoroki Shouto

-You didn’t know what hit you really. 

-You were lounging outside on your balcony enjoying the view the dorms gave you when you heard shouting from above you before you were frozen in place and a little ball of red hair came tumbling down the ice slide.

-It almost slammed against your glass door but stopped just on time, shaking the frost from the red locks. 

-As the child turned to you, her eyes widened and she quickly let out a string of sorry’s as she defrosted you, messing up her words many times and confusing the r with w.

-It was the cutest thing watching this five year old at best trying to melt her ice, her chubby hands resting on the iceberg as her nose scrunched up in concentration. 

-Eventually the ice melted and you were set free, rubbing your arms for some warmth as you looked at the child on your balcony more closely. 

- “I’m so sorry miss, I didn’t see you!!”

- “Well you were falling from the sky so I find it logical.”

-The little girl fidgeted with her fingers looking around in pure confusion, her lower lip trembling at the unfamiliar scenery in front of her. 

-Despite the clear panic in her gaze she held herself together, dawning a poker face soon after and looking at you straight in the eyes, her gaze feeling awfully familiar. 

- “I’m Rei. Nice to meet you.”

-She extended her hand and you were taken aback from her manners and the fact that you were being owned by a toddler. 

-Taking her small hand in yours you shake it and lead her inside, placing her on your bed and sitting across from her on your chair. 

-You stared at each other for a solid five minutes before you broke the silence with some basic questions. 

-How old she was, how she got here, where are her parents.

- “A kid got his quirk and things got out of hand. But my daddy will know what to do!! He’s a pro hero.”

- “Oh what’s his hero name? Maybe I can take you to him.”

- “Icyhot, he has an agency in the city but I don’t know how to get there.”

-At the sound of that name you were confused again. 

-Icyhot is Bakugou’s way of mocking Todoroki, your long time crush, and as far as you know there is no hero with that name,

-As you looked at the girl again you saw some similarities with Shouto.

-The hair and the poker face along with her quirk and some of her mannerisms scream Shouto.

-Even though her hair was the same color as his, she looked like you when you were around her age.

-Pushing your confusion in the back of your mind you looked at her again. 

- “Is you daddy Todoroki Shouto?”

-You wished that your first time referring to Shouto as daddy would be under him other circumstances. 

- “Yes!! Do you know him??”

-Oh you knew him alright.

-Nodding you sat up and extended your hand to the little girl, who grabbed it with no hesitation, and led her out of your room.

-And so the mad hunt for Todoroki began.

-Along the way Rei would tell you all kinds of stuff and share funny situations that her and her twin sister got themselves into. 

-Apperantly, Rei had a twin sister Ren and a younger sister who was recently added to the family, Ru. 

-You had been running around the school grounds for like an hour and you could feel Rei getting tired as she slowed down after a while. 

-She didn’t complain though. she just kept talking about her family and how her mom stayed at home for the last few weeks. 

-She was the cutest thing you have seen in a fat while and you could say that you were more than jealous of her mother, whoever she was.

-As you rounded a corner your eye caught sight of a head with vibrant red and white hair.

-And there stood Todoroki in all his glory holding a little girl of his own in his arms, this one with snow white hair.

-The moment Rei saw them she made a mad sprint and literally tackled both of them to the ground, the twins hugging each other like they weren’t suffocating Shouto. 

-You rushed to them, kneeling beside Shouto and prying the twins off of him, giving him a weak smile as you helped him up. 

-As you two stood there, the twins looked at you and something clicked.

-Both of them smiled to themselves and hugged you, nuzzling into yor side as Todoroki stared at you. 

-You all agreed to go to Aizawa or Recovery Girl to see how to get them back home.

-As you made your way to Aizawa’s office the twins were whispering to each other not as quietly as they thought. 

- “Mommy is really pretty.”

- “Yeah and daddy has that smile on his face.”

-You both became a blushing mess unbeknownst to them.

-You sure as hell had a lot to talk about after this. 

-And you’d finally get to call him daddy. 

TAG TEAM AY:

@brattyquirks​ , @the-arcana-fan-fic​

[mightymorphingayagenda]

cant wait for lethal combination chapter 5! and loved the holiday nessian fic you wrote!

then you shan’t have to wait! and thank you so much, nonnie. the fic they’re talking about and all previous chapters of lethal combo can be found here,  x

“Forgive me, father, for I have sinned.” 

Nesta kept her gaze on the wall of oak opposite her.  

“Is this the part where I tell you to get on your knees for me?” She asked.  

Humourless. 

And she could practically feel the feral rage radiating from him. Bleeding through the grate to her left like he were trying to smoke her out.  

“This is the part where you-“ 

“Shhh.” 

A lean shadow, a head of auburn hair, muted in the darkness like the decayed verdure of autumn, barely distinguishable through the latticed window no bigger than her hand.  

She’d made Eris wait almost a day.  

In Nesta’s experience teenage girls understood psychological warfare better than any CIA types she’d met. And rule one in the handbook was never call him back right away.  

Eris might as well have been a cute boy from home room, the advice stood fast.  

She’d also chosen the time and place for their meeting, giving no concessions in authority. Picking the church as unlike her he’d inherited both the egregious wealth of his family and their faith. Irish Catholic. Meaning he’d find himself here every Sunday evening regardless, and providing not only the guise of normality, but the cosy anonymity of a confessional.  

The only people who did secrecy better than assassins, were the Catholics.  

It was perfect really, the perfect plan. Undistracted Nesta had been able to work it out pretty quickly after Cassian had left. Leaving her all those hours between four in the morning and her meeting the following evening with nothing to do but hate him.  

Avoiding returning to the bed he’d screwed her in. Glaring at his jacket which still hung beside her front door over a bottle of vodka.  

It was a blow to her pride to be sure. The closest thing to rejection she’d ever received from a man. Whatsmore, some gooey part of her she’d pushed down had been upset.  

Too worked up to sleep she’d spent hours tucked into her armchair and entertaining plucking his teeth from his mouth like the petals of a rose. He loves me, he loves me not. Because worse than revealing himself to be a complete ass as most men did, Cassian had done so subsequent to fucking her better than she could have dreamed. And she’d had that dream. Multiple times.  

Wet dreams that couldn’t hold a candle to the way he’d had her dripping down to her knees, begging for his cock, trembling on legs he’d thrown over his shoulder to lick out her cunt like it was the reason he got out of bed in the morning. The man had spoilt her rotten.  

Nesta knew she probably shouldn’t have been thinking about sex in a church. Her mother was likely burning with a fury hotter than the flames that surrounded her down below, but she couldn’t help it. Because while she hated the sinner- ever bronze buffed, tattooed inch of him - god did she love the sin.  

“The adult is going to talk,” she said quietly. “If you want to throw a tantrum you can do it on your own time because as of this moment, I’m officially off the clock.”  

Eris’ silence said he knew better than to interrupt her. Perhaps he was smarter than she was about to give him credit for.  

“In fact I stopped working for you as of the moment you chose to question my methods and profess concerns that I may have jeopardised our venture because I lack the professionalism to keep my legs shut,” she said.  

“So if you want Helion Day neutralised, you’re going to have to find someone else to do the job. Though I seriously doubt you’ll be able to.” 

Cue phase two of the plan.  

Because she may have hated Cassian, but she wanted the monopoly on causing him emotional anguish.  

Like hell some other pro was going to put a bullet between Helion’s eyes and devastate his bodyguard. Making that man cry was Nesta’s prerogative. 

“I have made it clear to anyone in my field you might attempt to solicit that you are a impertinent, trust fund brat, who insists on micromanaging the work of other’s despite your incompetence in an attempt to feel important beyond the breeding mummy lied and told you made you special.” 

“I wasn’t aware you also specialised in character assassination.” 

Eris’ voice was charred with a sweetness like wealth; earthy and rich it reminded Nesta of muscovado sugar.  

He was right. She was being unprofessional. But she was tired and hungover and out of a gorgeous lay so fuck him.  

“My specialities are no longer any of your business, Mr Vanserra,” she replied. “My displeasure however, should be of great concern to you.”  

“Is that a threat?” 

“I wouldn’t do you the courtesy of warning you if I intended to kill you.” 

Eris said nothing.  

“You can consider it incentive if it helps you sleep at night though,” Nesta continued.  “To do as you’re told.” 

She gave him strict instructions.  Wait five minutes then leave. Never contact me.  Forget we were ever in correspondence in the first place.   

“Murder is cheap, Mr Vanserra. You don’t want to learn the cost of disobeying me. It’s not the kind of thing daddy’s wallet can cover.” 

She emerged from the confessional, slim shades obscuring her eyes and the deep bruises beneath. Her heels clipping against the stone floor as she made her way toward the station of votive candles at the back of the church.  

Each glowing stick a prayer for a lost loved one. Matches and and a few unlit offerings still available.  

She lit herself a cigarette on a flame.  

And Nesta couldn’t have missed the fresco above those colossal doors of oak and rustic gold flake even through the plumes of smoke that curled upwards as she stalked lazily down the isle:  a depiction of the Heavenly Father himself.  

She didn’t bother flicking a glance behind her to the confessional.  

Who’s your daddy, now?  

- 

She’d collapsed face down into already rumpled sheets.  

They’d smelled like sex and heaven and she’d smelt like cigarettes and a church and that was all she knew before the exhaustion caught up with her, the world went black, and she was waking up in exactly the same position . Vex’s fluffy tail swishing against her ear. The tickling sensation plucking her from the bliss of pure nothingness.  

Nesta groaned a little as she rolled over and pulled herself to sit up. Pleased to find she’d had the energy to take off her clothes. Unlike her makeup.  

“Damn it,”  she hissed as she saw the smudged mascara on the pillow.  

Not that the sheets didn’t need washing anyway… 

“Ugh,” she huffed, dropping flat onto her back again.  

She’d been awake less then seven seconds and a man had already ruined her day. Just thinking about him…  

“Ugh,” she said again, louder.  Like she was angry with the ceiling for not acknowledging her the first time. 

Vex meowed, his little head nudging at her bare arm. As though he were trying to coax her bra strap back up to a respectable position on her shoulder.  

“Hi, baby,” she grumbled, picking him up for a cuddle. “You hungry?” 

He meowed again.  

Padding down to the kitchen she’d made them both breakfast (technically lunch, she’d slept in till almost one) and carrying her plate of fruit back upstairs to draw a bubble bath he winded between her ankles, catching her attention as he hissed at something in the living room.  

“What?” she inquired, looking down at him before tilting her head to follow his own.  

Cassian’s jacket.  

Uhg.  

Now she was thinking about him again.  

Childish, dumb, insecure little prick. How he’d had the fucking nerve to call her a coward was truly a mystery.  

He was so crippled by that fear of not being good enough he’d immediately presumed she wanted rid of him. Lashing out defensively- God he was infuriating.  

She looked back to Vex who was now staring up at her. “If that thing somehow ends up on the floor,” she said, “you have permission to piss on it”. 

He purred.  

Vex truly was the only boy worth his salt. Something he proved yet again in hopping atop her bathroom counter and guarding her like a fluffy little gargoyle as she sank into the bath.  Opening m the window to let out the smoke of her cigarette so as not to bother him.  The sound of rain slipping something comforting through the January chill, twirls of smoke and steam visible in fatigued plumes.  

Another lethal habit she’d picked up from Aunt Ripleigh.  

The thought gave her an unpleasant feeling in her heart. Like a worm writhing in the rotted meat of an apple.  

Ripleigh wasn’t actually her aunt. But Nesta avoided her much like she did the rest of her family and that was what really counted. Besides, spilling blood together arguably made for a closer bond than just sharing it.  

Like Nesta said, not really her aunt.  

Aunt Ripleigh – initials AR, an homage to the assassin’s preferred weapon the AR-47, American hybrid of the Russian Автома́т Кала́шников, A.K.A the AK-47.  

Some mothers left their little girls pearls, or scrapbooks packed with baby pictures and the lingering scent of their perfume. Angelina Archeron had left her’s a Mafia assassin’s cell number.  

Of course Nesta hadn’t known that.  

Not until she’d found herself with her hands caked in something dark and sticky, her boyfriend’s skin stuffed beneath the lip of her nails and a taste in her mouth like hot rust.  

She’d been seventeen the first time she’d killed a man.  

Not a man. A boy.  

A few months her senior, Thomas been a child just like her.  

Her first crush. Her first boyfriend, her first love, and her first.  

Nesta had known Thomas was using her for sex.  Just as she’d been using him for his money, and wasn’t that what love was? Finding the gratification of your needs in someone else? In Thomas’s case he’d needed to get his dick wet.  In Nesta’s…it was more than embarrassing but half the time all she’d needed was a hot meal.  

She couldn’t count the number of times she’d called him in the dead of the night to hook up in his Porsche so she could sleep there instead of at home, where the windows screamed freezing air from their shattered mouths and the electricity bill was rarely paid.  

But one night Nesta hadn’t felt like earning his kindness. And so he hadn’t offered it. 

Instead he’d held her wrists, ripped at her shirt, forced his hands into her jeans. Pushed up against the bonnet of that Porsche by a lake in woods she’d torn through his face, her nails splitting through the waterline beneath his eyes as she’d kicked and screamed, blood pouring, his hand on her neck, throwing her head against the wing mirror. Heat spilling heavy down her jaw and neck from somewhere which had smelt like lose change.  

She remembers blood in her eyes and the taste of soft, smooth skin and a kind of rubbery strength between her teeth as she’d bit down hard until something had popped or burst or split with a squirt or a tear. She remembers spitting out whatever of Thomas’s ear she’d torn off between her teeth and something swinging into her lower ribs so hard one broke. She remembers the sounds that had been both of them and then at some point just her. 

Her screaming.  

Her sticky, disgusting face, stinging with every horribly wet sob and shriek. The shrieks that hadn’t choked to shaky breaths until she’d pulled herself to sit back against the wheel of the car. Clutching at her ribs which had only hurt so much worse when she’d thrown up right next to her boyfriend’s body.  What looked like a pint of blood glowing in the dust. His face…his head.  

It’d looked like a Halloween prop. Like dark jam. Like a brutalised seventeen year old dead in the dirt.  

And sometime after noticing one of his teeth in the dust, Nesta had realised how fucked she was.  

It wasn’t much of an achievement when you considered Grafton, Vermont had a population short of seven-hundred: but the Mandrays had been quite possibly the most well connected and well off people in its less than seven-hundred square miles.  And despite keeping Nesta’s name out of their sneering mouths through referring to her almost exclusively as “that white-trash bitch”, that population short of seven hundred didn’t give a shit about her.  

Didn’t give a shit she’d been top of her class with a place at Georgetown. Because Nesta could never have afforded to accept it.   

And it certainly didn’t matter she was a pageant queen when everyone knew the petty cash prizes were the only thing that paid the rent on their shitty one bedroom. Especially with things barely breaking even.  In spite of Feyre’s making use of their father’s rifle and sourcing for the butcher any chance she could.  

A too skinny child in the woods with a gun and blood in her braids.  

Nesta’s efforts to keep food on the table had always seemed to pale in comparison to that. But she’d never felt bad about it. Wouldn’t bother hating herself when everybody else was already doing that for her.  

Nesta Archeron was the cheap fuck that nice Mandray boy was messing around with. The gold digger with the dead commie mom and daddy issues. 

No one would have ever believed he’d tried to rape her.  

And she’d had no money for a decent lawyer- she hadn’t even had anyone to call. Not her dad, not a fourteen-year old Feyre nor Elain, sixteen and the last person she’d ever want wrapped up in something like this.  

Nesta had been desperate and vulnerable and jaded for as long as she could remember but she’d never felt as terrified and broken as she had in that moment. Crying alone and hugging herself tightly, she’d just wanted her mom. As cold and neglectful and dead as the woman was.  

“три три два пять семь девять пять шесть три восемь” 

 Her mother’s last words.  

 Ten numbers.  

 Nesta had somehow gotten to her feet, only realising Thomas had broken a few of her fingers when she’d tried opening the car door.  All but collapsing inside once she’d managed as she’d fumbled for her phone.  

 “три три два пять семь девять пять шесть три восемь” she’d repeated to herself, voice hoarse and wet and cracking as she’d dialled.  

 Ten numbers. Ten numbers. Ten numbers.  

 Like a phone number.  

 No doubt concussed Nesta had deemed it logical enough.  Her mother’s dying breath a kind of atonement for leaving her children with nothing in the whole word but a father that could watch his girls starve and go into the woods with his hunting rifle and whore themselves out like they meant nothing.  

 A life-line in the deep waters opaque with clouds of blood.  

 “Здравствуйте.” 

Those three syllables had been like a punch to the gut.  

Nesta had made a noise that might have sounded like “mom?” or the creaking of a damn as it ached under duress. She’d obviously known it wasn’t her mother, but she hadn’t heard a woman speak Russia since- hadn’t heard Russian at all in years.  

“Who is this?”  

Trying to pull herself together Nesta had taken a breath that had rattled, dripping wet and slightly wheezing. Everything was going to be okay. She’d been right. It couldn’t have been a coincidence. Of all the phone numbers in the world what was the likelihood that the voice on the end of this one spoke her mother’s native tongue?   

“I’m- I’m Angelina Archeron daughter. She gave me this number I don’t know what to do I-” 

The specifics aren’t as clear after that. Like a jigsaw left out in the rain or soaked in fresh hot blood, the pieces, the details, they’d melted to mush.  

 A mess she’d held in her hands and wondered what the fuck to do with.  

What do you do with a dead body and the knew found knowledge your mother was a boyevik for the Russian Mafia? What do you do with her retirement package which contained nothing but the contact for an assassin working for the New York arm.  

Nesta had only known what she wasn’t going to do.  

Go down for murder.  

Aunt Ripleigh had told her what to do over the phone, instructing her on how to deal with her injuries and Thomas’ pulp of a body.  How to explain the state of her face and ribs and fingers and head. What to do with his car and how to speak and sit and and react when then police came asking questions about Thomas’ disappearance. How to get away with it.  

 Nesta had followed each direction flawlessly.  Consoled in finally having a definitive plan. Even a plan that started with “buy meat cleaver, trash bag, battery powered blender and bucket, with cash from dead boyfriend’s wallet.” Even a plan that got progressively worse from that point on.  

 Filleting chunks of a body that had once been inside her. Hauling a trash bag of boyfriend smoothie to the river with broken fingers.  The thick slop sinking almost immediately just as Aunt Ripleigh had said it would. Before she’d told Nesta to burn the bones and roast marshmallows over them.  

 “If it had not been you it would have been next girl,” Ripleigh had said. “And she might not have had your fight.”  

 “You mean she might not have been disturbed enough to kill her boyfriend?” 

 “Killer instincts, Anastasia. Is not disturbed, is talent,” Aunt Ripleigh had said. “Cannot be taught but what can be taught you learn quick. No whining. Like very good puppy with very sharp teeth.” 

 “Woof,” Nesta had said dryly. 

 “Stray puppy though, no? Is why you have no manners.”

 “You offering to adopt me?” 

 “I have pet already. And my husband is funnier than you.” 

Nesta’s compromised rib had punished her for finding that funny.  

 “But you ever want job, you call me.” 

 Needless to say that was not the last time she’d called Aunt Ripleigh.  

 Three weeks later and four months shy of getting her high school diploma Nesta had turned eighteen and moved to New York in order to “pursue modelling”.  

In reality she was doing coffee runs with a dash more arsenic than normal and luring prosecutors to hotel rooms they’d never leave. A personal assistant of sorts to Aunt Ripleigh.  

She had kept the mafia, the Bratva, at an arms length whenever she’d been able. Paying off the shitty house she’d left her sisters in with one less mouth to feed and not wanting their address in any files accessible to people with skill sets like her’s.  

And while working with Ripleigh had been a mortiferous riot, two gals shattering the glass ceiling in their industry and slitting throats with the shards; Nesta had developed expensive taste from the fringes of high criminal society. She’d cared less about the art of killing than she had about the art she could hang up in a penthouse apartment if she were in private practice.  Her lust for comfort winning out after two years or so at which point she’d gone freelance. Assisting in a few heists before getting in with a crowd of Nazi hunters for a bit, all the while keeping in touch with her mentor.  

Until Feyre had moved to the city.  

 Then she’d given up on the more dangerous antics,  selling out for safer and even more lucrative bets like CEOs and cutting ties with Aunt Ripleigh. Terrified if not a little paranoid of something happening to her sister. Which had been shit.  Because Nesta hadn’t had any other friends. Like, at all.  

 At eighteen Feyre was still as bitter and proud as she’d been when Nesta had left. As Nesta herself still was.  

 Elain had tried bridging her sisters’ relationship once she’d moved to New York but she’d had better success career-wise. Working at a florists before eventually graduating to a self employed wedding planner. 

 Nesta had kept her thoughts on the psychological tells of a girl jilted at the alter becoming a wedding planner to herself. Mostly because Elain was always brining her cake samples she’d stolen and Nesta wasn’t going to sabotage her supply of free cake.  

 Feyre on the other hand had gone about far less conventional means of making a living. The child was a force to be reckoned with if for nothing but her resourcefulness and almost objectionable will to survive. Fiercely independent and clumsily capable she’d taken a crack at everything while selling her art on the side. It was a piece she’d modelled for that had delivered her to true economic grandeur however.  

 Well, “modelled” maybe wasn’t the word. Her sister had essentially been used as a human stamp. Her naked body detailed with intricately painted swirls then pressed to canvas.  

 The work had been showcased somewhere high brow and had caught the eye of one Mr Rhysand Velaris, thirty-one and the sole inheritor of his late father’s worldly possessions. Among which were several millions of dollars.  

 Half of which now belonged to her sister thanks to a very reckless prenup on his part.  

 Though Nesta had briefly wondered if he’d spent at least that on the engagement ring.  A glittering iceberg that seemed to only glare brighter next to the stark black band tattooed just beneath it, a matching tattoo on Rhysand’s own ring finger. Because of course they’d eloped in Paris and gotten tattoos instead of wedding rings. 

 If Nesta had been closer to her baby sister she imagined she might have felt betrayed on some level. But as things were, Nesta wasn’t entirely sure she would have received an invite even if they’d had a traditional wedding, planned to perfection by Elain. 

 It was probably the worst part of her job. The distance she had to put between herself and everyone she had the potential to care about. A distance she could never close even if she decided to retire right this minute because the damage had already been done.  Nesta had become a liability to their safety the minute she’d moved here and started in this line of work.  

 She took another chocolate from the box she’d snatched from downstairs on second thought. Her supply already dwindling thanks to the rather depression freight train of thought she’d embarked on.   

That and the fact they were really very good.  

Cassian may have been a prick, but she couldn’t deny he had great taste.  

In chocolate, and women, she thought smugly.  Sinking deeper into the basin.  

A heat flushed up her neck that had nothing to do with the bath as she unwillingly remembered how he’d softly coaxed one of these lovely little parcels between her full lips. The drunk hunger in his deep brown eyes and what he’d done next, snapping her lace thong between his teeth-  

Her music stopped. Only to be replaced by a buzzing thrum of her phone.  

Leaning forward Nesta checked the caller ID before swiping across the screen to accept the call and sinking back to her earlier position.  

“I’m not in the mood,” she hummed dismissively, head tipped back against the lip of the tub and eyes closing. She’d known this was coming, better to get it over with.  

“When I supply you with handsome, rich, and eligible men, I do not expect you to break them!” Feyre castigated through the phone, and anyone might guess she were the elder sibling.   

Feyre indeed thought herself wiser and more worldly than both Nesta and Elain, and getting married hadn’t helped diminish her false sense of maturity. Thrusting her character into some weird sarcastic seriousness that mirrored her husband’s demeanour perfectly. It made Nesta cringe so thoroughly she was mildly concerned about getting wrinkles.   

“And I thought we’d grown out of sharing toys, but it seems both our expectations were thwarted.” 

“Humans aren’t toys!” Feyre reminded her. Not that Nesta didn’t already know that. No vibrator had never made her cum as hard as Cassian had.  

“And if you resented me setting you up with Cassian then why did you fuck him ?” Feyre asked. And she said fuck as though it were synonymous to stab or poison.  

“Was it to punish me? Because if so you did a spectacular job. He’s crazier about you than ever and won’t stop moping. The second-hand embarrassment is painful enough without the added agony of how annoying it is.”  

If he likes me so much why was he so eager to assume the worst of me? Nesta thought spitefully. 

It didn’t matter that she technically was lying to him. He didn’t know that.  

“You told me to give him a chance.”  

“And you couldn’t have decided you didn’t like him before having sex with him?” 

Nesta wasn’t surprised Feyre had taken Cassian’s version of things at face value.   

Her husband’s family were unimpeachably wonderful in her eyes. Meanwhile Nesta remained just another reminder of a time Feyre couldn’t have afforded the plane ticket to get to New York, let alone a town house on the upper east side. A cold bitch who hadn’t begged to join the weird cult that was the Velaris family and their innermost circle when Feyre had married Rhysand last year.  

“Oh I’d already worked out he was an ass by that point but I thought he could at least make up for putting me through the date. Not much going on in that head but he quite clearly had it all going on- 

“Ew ew ew!” Feyre interrupted. “One, I need this conversation to steer clear of anything anatomical, and two, do you have to be so horrible?” 

“You’re the one pimping out your friends, I just took you up on the offer.”  

“Ever heard of the third date rule?” 

“Didn’t you marry Rhysand on the third date?” 

Feyre sighed.  

“Cassian’s a good guy, Nes. It takes a lot to come out the other side of what he’s been through a good man and he deserves the world so-” 

“So why did you send him my way?” 

Nesta knew what Feyre thought of her. And if she hadn’t then this conversation would have made it very clear.  

“Because Nesta! You’re twenty-four and already a crazy cat lady! I’m sorry I tried to save you from dying alone and having Vex eat your corpse.” 

Nesta rolled her eyes.  

“Have you ever considered I choose to be alone because I like it?” She asked. 

Feyre sighed again, but it was softer this time, sad more than exasperated.  

“You’re not alone, Nesta,” she said. “You’re lonely.” 

It was annoying enough that she was right, she didn’t have to be so pretentious about it aswell.  

“I’m fine,” Nesta said.  

“You sound just like Cassian,” Feyre grumbled.  

“Well I’ve been smoking.” 

“I’ll be sure to put how funny you were on your headstone when those things kill you.” 

“I’m racing Rhysand to the grave, he has more cigars than I do shoes.” 

“He only smokes them on special occasions.” 

“And how do you know this isn’t a celebratory cigarette on account of you calling me?” 

“Because instead of saying hi you said I’m not in the mood.” 

“Oh so you did hear me?” 

“I hear you, Nesta,” Feyre conceded, disappointment weighing on her words. “Loud and clear. Have a good week.”  

She hung up.  

“You too,” Nesta said into the silence.  

When the silence replied she sank beneath the water. As though she hoped it might act as the cushioned walls of a padded cell meant to protect those who posed a danger to themselves.  

It didn’t. And that unpleasant ache didn’t go away. It never did.  

Worse than the dull pounding in her ears and tightness in her chest as she held her breath.  

But it would be nothing compared to the devastation of seeing Feyre or Elain hurt. The tender ache of keeping them at arms length, knowing they were at least there to brush her fingers against, was worth avoiding spending the rest of her life reaching for someone taken from her.  

Perhaps that was also why she’d wanted so fiercely to dislike Cassian.  

Nesta re-emerged with a gasp, her chest on fire.  

What an unpleasant notion, she thought, running her fingers through her wet hair and  sinking back as she took a slower breath. That she’d been looking for a reason to dislike him even after overcoming the minor detail she was going to kill his friend and client.  An excuse to throw in the towel as soon as she could.  Because it was just easier.  

Easier than accepting she was fundamentally terrified of keeping him around.  

Easier than keeping him around and seeing him get hurt.  

Fuck.  

Her being mad at him had been a cop out.  

Because yes he’d been a petty, insecure idiot;  but hadn’t she told him she was going to fuck and chuck him? Hadn’t she been at typically fast to get in a fight with him? Substantiating his insecurities.  

Nesta might have been furious at his calling her a coward, but he hadn’t actually been wrong. 

She’d let some subliminal fear convince her to sabotage things.  

A subliminal and blissfully irrational fear she realised because, Cassian, a monument of pure muscle, could definitely look after himself. He’d been marine corps for Christ’s sake. Not to mention she’d seen him take down Helion enough times in the ring while still working for Eris and the fact the man literally specialised in keeping people safe for a living! 

Nesta felt a weird and almost unfamiliar lightness in her shoulders. It felt a little like hope. Which was also terrifying.  

But she wasn’t going to the let the fear control her this time.  

 — 

 Cassian had ignored her calls.  

All three.  

Which was fine because she’d been stalking him for the past month. She knew exactly where he’d be that evening and doing things in person meant she could kill him if he kept up the asshole routine.  

Nesta’s platform stiletto boots clipped against the laminate flooring as she emerged from the elevator.  Stalking lazily through the top floor of the Illyria building.   

Even if she killed Cassian he was going to die happy.  She looked good enough to eat. Thick hair fastened back into a high ponytail, the details of her face were subject to full attention. Her eyes appearing almost wider and lashes lavished with a black like her jet thigh-highs and tied coat. Plump lips softly lined and shaded, she looked drop dead fucking gorgeous.  

Though it was what she was wearing under her fastened coat that was the real killer.  

Nesta didn’t uncross her ankles from where they’d flicked over one another as she let herself lean against the doorframe of Cassian’s office.  

It was wide open. No privacy needed when everyone else had gone home around four hours ago. The night detail on Helion allowing Cassian time to catch up on work as he had every night and well into the morning for the past month.   

“All work and no play?”  

Cassian looked up from his desk.  

“I can fix that,” she said.  

He’d never looked more handsome.  

Hair bundled into a dark band, his shirt cuffed at his forearms and a bit of scruff marring his chiselled jaw. A pair of slim reading glasses were pushed up his slightly imperfect nose and it was such a turn on Nesta was glad she was leaning against something.  

He looked a little exhausted in a kind of brooding and adorable way.  

It gave her this awful pining to massage those sculpted shoulders as he let loose a deep, tired sigh, arms folding across that powerful chest causing his white shirt to hiss as he leaned back into his chair. It was a fucking massive bit of furniture. But then it had to be to accommodate him.  

“What are you doing here?”  

Rude.  

Nesta pushed off the doorframe and into his office.  

“You ignored my calls,” she said by way of explanation. Making her way to the bookcase and running her fingers across a row of spines. It was mostly files, but she noticed a few novels as well.  

“You kicked me out of your bed at three in the morning.” 

She turned to find him watching her.  

His words were dismissive and effortlessly confrontational as usual. But there was an edge to his voice. And it wasn’t arousal. Even if his gaze caught on her boots and lingering there for longer than he’d probably care to admit.  

Nesta leaned back against the bookshelf, inspecting her manicure with an eye roll.  

“You’re still upset about that?”  

“Not at all,” he said with a smirk. Reclining back against the chair a little further, hips rolling and arms casually folding. Too casually. The dangerous grace of it speaking to the emotion that no doubt roiled beneath his bronze skin. Belied by that bullshit cockiness which grated her to the bone. “It seems I dodged a bullet.” 

“Oh really?” 

“The whole hot but mean cliché is one thing, but crazy hookup who stalks me-“ 

“Don’t flatter yourself,” she sneered.   

She’d seen hints of this before. The rugged and crude act meant to cover up the insecurity she’d also been treated to.  

“Oh I’m sorry. I forgot you can’t ever admit what it is you want.” 

“You don’t have a clue what I want.” 

“I have several, Nesta.” He looked her up and down pointedly. 

The way he said her name. Even like this it made her weak in the knees while her fingers itched to choke him.  

It was all very conflicting.  

“Oddly confident in your last performance for someone so insecure,” she quipped lazily.  

Cassian rose his brows with a mean a laugh.   

“What do I have to be insecure about?” He said. “I didn’t hide behind a half-ass lie to throw someone out of my bed. And I’m pretty sure even your neighbours can attest to how good of a time I gave you,” he smirked again.  “You’re not a good enough liar for the way you moaned my name to have been an act.” 

The white hot fist in her stomach folded in on itself as it melted to a stickiness despite the misguided insult. She certainly hadn’t been putting it on Saturday. Every sound he’d drawn from her dripping with sincerity. Every moan and whimper well deserved.   

“You’re right,” she said.  

Cassian blinked.  

Nesta prowled toward him and hummed, “those, four, orgasms, were about as fake as my emergency.” 

The sultry softness to her voice thickened to something less affected at those last words.  

Cassian scoffed. Though there was something withdrawn and careful to him that hadn’t been there a second ago. Like a snake recoiling in case it needed to strike.  “Your emergency, of course. Which was?” 

“Nothing to do with you.”  

He shook his head, laughing bitterly.   

“Seriously, Nesta? You’ve had two days to come up with something now.”  

“You’re not listening to me,” Nesta slipped atop the corner of the desk, perching there with her long legs crossed over one another. The blade of a stiletto heel close enough to brush up his calf if she wanted to make him shiver.  

But she didn’t. She just wanted him to listen. To understand what she was saying so she didn’t have to say anything more because for fucks sake he was the one who’d acted up and yet she was here putting her pride on the line again.  

“It had nothing, to do with you,” she said slowly.  

A weighted silence settled like snow between them.   

Until Cassian took a blow torch to it.  

“Shit.” 

His head fell into those large hands.   

“Shiiiiiiiit,” he cursed again. “Oh god, how badly have I fucked up?” He groaned, looking up.  So humbled and distraught it was almost comical.  

“Irredeemably.” Her eyes flirted with the notion of a little smile even if her mouth remained unquirked as she propped her hands against the desk behind her and leaned into them to more comfortably watch him suffer.  

“I’d beg you not to tease me but honestly I think it’s the least I deserve- fuck.” 

“Like me teasing you isn’t the highlight of your day.” She rolled her eyes.  

Cassian laughed, pained and almost sheepish, which shouldn’t have been hot but god it made her blush.  

Keep your cool goddamn it. She wanted a little more bang for her buck where grovelling was concerned before she let on how eager she was for things to get back on track.  

“Want to flat out abuse me and make it the highlight of my year?” 

She was struggling to keep the smile off her face even as she said, “I’m not in the habit of rewarding bad behaviour. You’re a man, you get enough of that already.” 

“Nesta,” he took his glasses off, setting them down on the desk beside her thigh. “I’m sorry,” he said, looking her in the eyes. “I’m, really, really fucking sorry I’m an idiot.” 

Nesta slid of the desk.  

“Go on,” she instructed.  

“A moron a fool a stupid, stupid son of a bitch.” 

Taking a step forward she was stood between his thighs. Picking up his glasses and pushing them back on his nose. Missing the sight of this hulking, powerhouse of a man in spectacles.  

“I’m sorry.” Cassian was looking up at her with those big brown eyes, and the bastard actually leaned into her palm.  

“Oh for fucks sake how did anyone discipline you as a child with those damn puppy-dog eyes?” She growled softly, furious.  

“They didn’t to be honest,” he admitted with a breathy laugh.  

“I can tell.” 

She slid her hands to his shoulders, fingers curling soft and possessive over the stacked muscle and palms pressed to his upper chest, stepping tighter into him.  

“I guess I’ll just have to do it.”  

Cassian swallowed.  

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, sweetheart,” he tried. Intoxicatingly deep, trying to maintain that arrogant and playful edge in a way that made his words all the hotter. The simmering ache he attempted to push down all but throbbing in his voice.   

“Don’t tell me what to do,” she returned, brows arched. Battling a smirk off her face.  

“Can I ask you to do something for me, then?” 

“If you say please.” 

“Please don’t screw around with me.” 

Nesta faltered.  

Those warm hands came to rest on her lower back, long fingers curling slightly into the fabric and coaxing her that last bit closer so that her thighs brushed against the edge of his chair and her stomach was brushing up against his.  

“I’m really into you,” he admitted.  “You’re smart and you’re beautiful, and at first I thought the whole hard to get thing was an act but woman you are genuinely hard to get and it is, so sexy. But whatever it is that’s holding you back, that made you wait a week to call me, that made you claim all you wanted was a hook up; I’m clearly not cut out to compete,” he confessed. “It got in my head, and that’s on me and me lashing out at you the other night that’s on me too and I’m so, so sorry Nesta. I need to know where I stand with you though. I need to know if you’re actually interested in me. Because I like you. But I’m too old for games.” 

The silence was so thick she could have cut through it with a knife.  

Nesta’s hands fell from his chest slowly.  

“That’s good,” she assured him at last. “Because I’m not a toy.”  

She brought her fingers to the belt of her coat and pulled slow and deliberate.  

Black glazed her figure with a gorgeous intimacy. The dress hugging at what little it concealed with perfection enough to make up for its lake of mercy. Long legs sheathed in those thigh-high boots, the item was short enough that a decent length of her thighs could be seen. Interrupted at the last possible moment by sleek jet as though she’d been dipped in oil of purest night.   

Cassian’s eyes blew out to sticky treacle behind those glasses.  

“I’m human, Cass,” she hummed, tossing her coat onto the desk behind her as she spoke. “Which means I make mistakes.” He swallowed as she sighed softly, her cleavage swelling a little with the motion.  “And that I have needs. Needs you can be the one to fulfill or not.” 

She slipped into his lap, straddling him, knees bent either side of his thighs. The corded strength of which pressed painfully and exhilaratingly apparent against the soft seam of her inner thighs and she was genuinely suffering from some kind of contact high. Every inch of him seizing up subtly, deliciously taught at her touch in an effort not to respond and yet it only revealed just how much she affected him.  

“Nesta-“ 

“Shhhhhh,” she interrupted. Hands cupping that ruggedly handsome face and titling it back to tuck her’s against him slowly. “But I want it to be you,” she purred against his jaw, tracing her nose up the stubbled curve. “Let me show you how bad.” 

“Someone could come back-“ 

“I don’t care,” Nesta murmured against his mouth. “I want you.” 

His eyes fluttered shut. And she felt his cock stir in those immaculately tailored slacks.  

“Nesta-” 

She could feel every muscle that licked up his stomach tremble with a drawn out contraction as she said it again, her hands slipping down to his broad shoulders. 

“I want you,” she purred again.  

He might have tried to breath.  And it might have rubbed up something uncomfortably nice in her lower tummy.  

“Say it,” she whispered, tilting her face so that the tip of her nose brushed up the side of his. Her breath hot on his stubbled Cupid’s bow and hands running down the solid power of his upper body, burning up through his shirt. “Say it, Cassian.” 

His brown eyes like cognac and magnolia were hooded behind his glasses as he conceded.  

“You want me,” he breathed.  

She grazed her mouth against his. Lips parted suggestively and an almost silent, utterly cruel noise escaping her.  

The length of his thick cock pressed up against the seam of her plush sex as he grew to full, hard attention in his slacks. Warm and thrilling even through her panties and their open mouths melted into one another hot and heavy, tongues caressing as his large hands came to her knees and smoothed up her bare thighs covetously. 

“Fuck,” he groaned lazily as her hips began rolling deeply into him, and her hands slid under his shirt. Fingers splayed, she snaked up the cobbled muscle of his stomach, the flesh burnished and warm beneath her touch. His shirt riding up to reveal the gutter of his hips, gruesomely toned and dusted with hair.   

“This is…such a…” he breathed, between the perfect and yearning motions of their jaws, a hand smoothing up her waist in a way that made her shiver.  

“Dream come true?” She hummed, kissing him wanton and unhurried. Dangerously close to becoming a brainless mess with the way his cock rubbed up her core.  

His groan melted to a laugh or maybe it was the other way round.  

“Yes,” he admitted breathlessly. “And a bad, bad…idea.” 

“Well you’ve been a bad, bad boy, Cassian,” she whispered filthily against his ear, before capturing the lobe between her teeth softly.  

She sucked and nibbled oh so gently and he expelled a breath so gravelly and masculine it twisted the hungry knot in her core tighter. 

“Nesta…we-fuck you’re good at that…” he groaned lethargically . “Sweetheart, we can’t…” 

“Why not,” she coed quietly, the sound airy and affectedly filthy.  

“We’re…” he choked as he took in the sight of her cleavage, pushed intimately to his chest and escaping the neckline of her dress like a plume of toothpaste squeezed from the tube. “Fucking hell Nesta we’re in my office.” 

“And I’m saying you could be in me.” 

She rocked her hips against him with a particularly cruel slant.  

The groan that escaped him made something flip in her stomach, tossing about whatever sweet, impossible to describe feeling rushed there at the same time at the way his head fell back against the chair as she worked him over.  The hot friction that rubbed against her sensitive core the cherry on top of the sweet, creamy, decadent sundae.  

“Besides,” she moaned, breathless and sultry. Teeth plunging softly into her plump bottom lip as she continued rolling her hips. Hands rubbing over his shoulders and providing her leverage. “You’re the boss.” 

“I think we both know…that I’m not the boss…right now…” he groaned. Almost pained.  

“Your cock a little much for those slacks?” She hummed, faux sympathy dripping through her mocking pout. 

“I thought you liked a tight fit,” she teased, still pouting but eyes smokey. Her toes curling in her boots as her fingers began work on pulling his shirt apart.  

The buttons popped undone with a sensual and pining tempo and she was moaning quietly into his mouth as she explored the panes and ripples of that powerful upper body. More than thorough in her hands-on assessment.  

Cassian’s own hands were keeping just as busy, massaging and kneading her ass indulgently before smoothing over her rolling hips and eventually coming to her lower back. His thumbs pressing to the small of her back either side of her spine and it made something tight inside her swoon. The touch so hot and the memory it conjured so good. His big hands on her as he fucked her from behind.  

“Nesta,” Cassian groaned deeply, as she began rocking into him tighter, hotter. The impression of his cock lined up just right with her aching core.  

“Hey, baby,” She purred, drunk on the friction that made her whole body throb and hum with pleasure and the tip of her nose brushing the side of his. Hands snaking from his exposed chest to either side of his face and capturing his bruised mouth with her own. Chewing on his bottom lip obscenely, the friction beginning to push her over edge.  

“Fuck you’re incredible,” he groaned huskily once she let up. Kissing back decadently. “I’m so sorry,” he breathed almost mindlessly. “I’m so fucking sorry, Nesta.” 

“You wanna show me how sorry you are?” she purred, sultry and low, mouth parting, forehead still pressed to his and eyes fluttering open to hold his own.   

Cassian nodded, dumb and silent and eager and Jesus it turned her on.  

“Yeah? You wanna make me cum?” She hummed.  

“Yes, yes, please.” 

“Touch me, Cassian,” she whispered against his open mouth. “Make it up to me, make me feel good.” 

Cassian’s hands slid back to her ass and she moaned into the kiss he captured her lips in as he lifted her with a sensual squeeze,  wrapping her long legs tightly round the tapered cut of his waist as he stood.  

The surface of the desk was beneath her before she could work out which way was up and his touch smoothed down her legs to her knees before she could take a a breath in reprieve from kissing him. Her legs splitting either side of his broad hips and his erection, tucked to the side in his slacks and thick and heavy and hard, pushed against the inner seam of her thigh as he pulled that band from her hair. 

“I’m gonna make these gorgeous legs tremble for me,” he pledged against the her jaw, kissing and nipping his way down to where her pulse throbbed for him as he a hand through the loose locks.  

And he began suckling at that sensitive spot just as a calloused hand slipped between her thighs.  

“Mmmmm,” Nesta moaned smugly, gripping at his biceps still sheathed in the sleeves of his shirt as Cassian’s thumb ran up the seam of her dripping cunt through her panties. The lace a flimsy veil between her swollen clit and his hot touch.  

“Fuck I’ve missed you,” he moaned into her neck, her head rolling back as he snapped her panties and began stroking his fingers through her soft folds possessively. “Missed those little sounds and your mouth and this pretty neck and perfect pussy.” 

“Then cut out the all bark no bite bullshit and prove it,” she breathed.  

“Yes ma’am,” he murmured thickly, the pad of his thumb coming to her clit and she moaned as he circled the sensitive bundle of nerves expertly. Her nails pressing into his shoulders, a few through the hiss of his shirt but the others carving crescents into the bronze muscle and tattoos like the meat of an apple.   

His forefinger began teasing at her tight entrance and Nesta’s breath caught.  

“Tease me and you’ll fucking regret it,” she warned thickly, and he pushed the digit inside.  

The intrusion was far from the thick, eight inches she craved, but when he curled his finger against a sensitive, swollen spot deep inside her Nesta keened aloud.  

“You look so fucking good like this,” Cassian breathed, husky and bestial as he crooked his finger inside her over and over.  

“More,” she demanded. 

It probably wasn’t clear if she was demanding more dirty praise or physical attention but Cassian was a good boy and covered all his bases. A second finger pushing inside her that second.   

She gasped as the snug walls of her cunt stretched to accommodate the two of them as he waxed lyrical about how hard her moaning got him.  Their foreheads level and those deep brown eyes lathering her with his earnest attention.  

“You’re dripping down my knuckles like a fucking peach,” Cassian told her as he thrust inside her over and over, the only thing more obscene than her facial expression and the breathless sounds she was making being the quite, wet noises his fingers illicited.  

He hadn’t let up on her clit, and at the exact moment he decided to start curling those two fingers together, he increased the speed and pressure with which he rubbed at her most responsive spot with his thumb.  

“Cassian,” Nesta moaned, her fingers running up the nape of his neck and delving into his hair, still pulled into that bun.  

“That’s it, that’s so fucking hot, baby, I want your cum dripping down my wrist,” he growled softly. Her nails sliding down his scalp.  

“You’re so fucking needy,” she got out, which only served to utterly delight him. His thumb working at her from an oh so subtly more intense angle that had a familiar buzzing low inside her threatening to pluck her apart at the seams.  

“Oh my god fuck,” she moaned. “Uhhu, that’s it, just like that oh my god.” 

“You gonna cum, Nesta? You gonna cum on my desk- Jesus I’m gonna be thinking about you moaning, long legs spread for me while you moan so fucking dirty for my fingers every time I’m sat at this fucking desk now, you know that?”  

His words sent her over the edge.  

Silently she threw her head back as her orgasm licked up every frayed nerve in her body. It was hard. And Cassian kept on working those thick fingers inside her and over her sensitive clit throughout.  

Fucking her dirty and skilled. Prolonging her twitching and bone melting pleasure.  

Until she was snaking her hands from where they’d wound through his fastened hair, and pushing him off her at the shoulders.  Falling back on her forearms with a shaky exhale, thighs still trembling subtly.  

Cassian smirked. And brought his fingers to his mouth. Licking up the length of the calloused, sticky digits. Eyes on her’s from behind those obnoxiously sexy reading glasses she had half a mind to slap off his face.  

“You taste even better than I remember,” he purred.  

“Then get on your knees.” 

Her voice was shaky but he didn’t even throw her another of those antagonistic and gorgeous smirks, just sank down. All six foot whatever, two hundred and something ridiculous pounds of muscle. Knelt on the floor between her legs.  

“Is initiative encouraged of am I to be strictly obedient?” There was that smirk.  

“You can use your brain,” she permitted. Still out of it. But still dying for him to touch her again.  “If only because I need to be convinced you have one.”  

His chuckle felt like fucking heaven between her thighs. His stubbled jaw rubbing up against her aching cunt as he kissed her like he meant it. Open mouthed and his tongue then slipping out to lavish her dripping slit before he began playing with her clit with the tip.  

Nesta moaned, chewing down on her lip once she located the dignity to quieten down so she could keep it that way.  

Her previous orgasm should have taken the edge off, but it had only reminded her already whetted appetite what there was to gorge on. Leaving her pining for more and disastrously sensitive.  

“Mmmm,” Cassian moaned deeply- though honestly it was closer to a growl which was hot- and brought those large hands to her thighs. Holding her open for him stoking the bruise-blue flame that writhed in her core and allowing him better access to her pussy.  

“Oh god right there,” Nesta keened. His nose brushing up against her clit as he licked up her snug entrance, teasing his tongue inside.  

He threw her legs over his stacked shoulders and obeyed, working his tongue inside her with shameful enthusiasm only emphasised by the noises he was making. Seriously he was putting her to shame.  

In fact if she hadn’t been rapidly approaching another orgasm she might have thought he was have more fun than her.  

Hands no longer occupied with gripping her black-clad thighs they came to her hips and waist. Coaxing her to slant forward at an angle that granted him an even more advantageous angle from which to eat her out.  

She moaned, manicured nails almost clawing into his desk behind her. “Mhmm mhmm uh,” she gasped sharply at the sudden relocation of his tongue. Cassian capturing her clit in his mouth and sucking on the sensitive bud as he flicked his tongue up and down.  

“Fuck, yes yes yes yes,” she was utterly breathless. “Oh god, oh fuck, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum,” she whined.  

Cassian fucking groaned and it was like he’d pulled at the knot in her stomach with his teeth.  

The muscles in her lower stomach twitching as she came, the cushiony walls of her cunt pulsing tight and the only thing grounding her to reality.  

Though she was just lucid enough to know Cassian was lapping up the nectar between her legs with audible and pleased snarls of pure, masculine satisfaction.  

Nesta couldn’t say how long it took her to stop seizing, just that she was completely drunk on pleasure by the time her body allowed her to at least try and think. She failed completely. Wasted on her orgasm, on Cassian.  

“Come ‘ere,” she said, breathless and doped up. Eyes barely fluttering open, heavy lidded and probably glazing over with unabashed appreciation as Cassian did as he was told. Rising to stand before her, thick arms winding round her waist snuggly and pulling her to him tight.  

His sheathed erection pushed to her sticky inner thigh and his powerful upper body, chiselled and broad and comforting, warm and hard and dusted with dark hair, pushed to her’s.  

His sharp jaw, like her thighs, was slightly sticky, and his mouth looked even more abused than it from the attention of her teeth. But the best part- better than his mid-sex blush or the way he was breathing all deep and powerful and hungry for her, were his glasses. They were slightly fogged up at the edges.  

“Apology accepted?” He asked huskily, like he was already sure of the answer. Like he didn’t care because no matter what she said he was going to have her screaming for him till they were both sick of each other.  

“Apology accepted,” Nesta confirmed. Splayed hands smoothing up his broad chest as she captured his lips in a wanton kiss.  

“That still leaves your punishment though,” she whispered.  

Cassian’s dark brows had barely risen before she’d pushed him back and he was falling into the chair again. Breathing deep and thrumming with a desire that destabilised him as he watched her slip a stiletto heel beneath her panties on the floor and flick them up into her hand. Prowling toward him and climbing into his lap. Hoping it wasn’t obvious that her legs felt like liquid.  

“Hold these,” she demanded, feeding the bundle of lace into his mouth, his groan muffled by the fabric and her hands making quick and embarrassingly eager work of removing his unfastened shirt. All but tearing it off his sculpted arms that must have been as thick as her thighs- his body was ridiculous.  

She griped his wrists before he could start doing something like feeling her up and brought them behind his head. Elbows out and biceps flexed, his hands meeting in the middle at the nape of his neck.  

Cassian kissed and nipped at her fingers as she plucked her panties from his mouth with one hand, holding his wrists with the other.  

He licked at his lips as though chasing the taste of her lingerie, eyes on her’s from behind his glasses.  

She wasn’t gentle knotting the lace round his wrists.  

“Oh,” he grinned, trying to move his arms.  

He couldn’t of course, the physics working against him and rendering it so his only way out would be pulling until the lace snapped for a second time this evening. Still, it was a fucking gorgeous sight watching him try. Biceps and broad chest flexing.  

Tied up and at her mercy she was dripping wet for him and slipped her tongue into his mouth as a little reward for how fucking hot he looked like this. Kissing him obscene and wet.  

“Safe word?” She murmured into his mouth.  

“Harder,” Cassian grinned. No doubt referencing her answer to the very same question the other night.  

Nesta bit his bottom lip, puncturing the bruised cushion subtly and she tasted blood on her teeth and his tongue.  

“Safe word,” she insisted once more against his lips, fingers winding through his hair with a drawn out and yearning pull.  

“Amren,” he groaned`. Then added, “don’t ask.” 

“Yeah we’re done talking,” she informed him dismissively. Unbuckling his belt and pulling it through the loops of his slacks with a swift tug.  

Cassian’s hips jumped beneath her and she unfastened the button slung low on his hips, pulling the zip of his fly down. Parted lips close to brushing.  

“Down boy,” she purred.  

“Bit late for that,” he breathed raggedly, jaw feathering as she slid her hand into his boxers.  

“God you’re adorable,” Nesta pouted, freeing his thick cock. Obnoxiously engorged and a dribble of pearlescence spilling from the uncut tip.  

“Now be a good boy and don’t you dare cum until I say,” she warned.  

And sank down on thick inch after inch of his hot, rigid shaft.  

Nesta couldn’t help the arch that slipped through her spine as he filled her up, the stretch so acute it had her eyes rolling back with a flutter of her thick lashes.  

“Oh my god,” she moaned breathlessly, hands splayed against his powerful chest. Thighs straddling his, her walls hugged him vice like and- Jesus, he rubbed up that deep spot inside her perfectly. 

“Nesta,” Cassian groaned beneath her. “You’re so… fucking tight.” 

Nesta rolled her head to the side in tandem with her hips, growing accustomed to the sheer size of him and eliciting a raw sound from the man before she removed his reading glasses. Fitting them over the bridge of her own petite nose.  

“No backseat driving now, sweetheart,” she purred a little shakily.  

She rose onto her knees only to sink back down again with a filthy twist of her hips. Repeating the motion again and again. Gliding up and down his cock with a tight and slippery friction that had her stomach flexing and his gaze heavy lidded. Encouraging, low noises escaping from deep in his chest that she wanted to bottle up and get drunk on.  

“Uhh,” she keened, dirty and blissful, hands on his stacked shoulders. “Uhhu.” 

“Oh fuck,” Cassian breathed huskily. “Mmhhm…that’s it…fucking ride me baby” 

Nesta felt a familiar heat fan at her core as she drank him up. Every perfect, delicious inch there for her to use.  

“Cassian,” she moaned. The sound tasting like sex in her mouth.  

She fluttered around him again on an upwards twist of her hips, his cock pushing in and out of her snug cherry with a delicious wet sound. Just audible above her filthy moans.   

Riding him was like sucking on a hard candy, that intense sweetness at the centre burning ever closer. And he kept running that damn mouth.  Gravelly and deep, lavishing her body with sickly sweet and dirty compliments.  

“Fuck that’s it gorgeous, just like that sweet thing fucking hell you’re fucking perfect.” 

Powerful and dripping with raw fucking desire his body rolled upwards into her, slick with sweat and chiselled sinew.  His cock burying deeper inside her. The sounds he was making just to top it off causing a tight fuzziness to tremble in her upper thighs.   

“Oh my god,” Nesta moaned, hands coming to his face and lips brushing his as so she moaned a hot, “I’m gonna cum,” into his mouth.  

Cassian groaned. Kissing her hard and deep.  

“Cassian,” she keened.  

She began bouncing deeper in his lap. Up and down up and down. His cock thrusting inside her hard and rubbing at her g spot just right while her clit grazed the coarse hair at his rugged hips. There was a bead of sweat gliding down the chiselled muscle that carved his broad torso, washboard abs flexing as he resisted release and Nesta felt the pressure between her thighs reach a fever pitch.  

Grunting he bucked violently beneath her once, twice, and she was undone.   

Nesta might have made a noise this time. Airy and hot and open mouthed against his neck as she buried her hands into his hair.  

He was so tense beneath her, like pure marble soaked in the heat of the sun. Trying not spill inside her as her walls flexed with every hot wave of pleasure.  

And once it passed his breathing was as ragged as her own.  

“You did so good,” Nesta whispered at last against his ear. Voice wrecked like she were experiencing a sugar crash. Nibbling at the lobe. Tasting salt on her lips and eyes fluttering shut at the heady scent of his aftershave.  

“Does that mean I get a reward?” he managed.  

“Something like that,” she hummed, repositioning herself so that her back was to his chest.  

“Nesta please. Just untie me, sweetheart,” Cassian whispered against her ear. Voice trembling like he’d shot up something good.  

Nesta only chuckled, head knocked back so she could hold his eyes as she rolled her hips. Teasing, tormenting.  

“The second you get your hands on these,” she brought her hands to her tits, giving them a soft squeeze and biting her lip, “you’ll be cumming and out of commission.”  

Cassian growled, watching her feel herself up as she rolled her hips in leisurely circles.  Sensual and dirty. The length of his hard shaft, thick and velvet smooth beneath her.  

“Fuck,” he moaned huskily. Nose buried at her throat and lips working against her pulse point with the assistance of his tongue and teeth. Just as slow and through as her hips. 

She gasped softly, grinding deeper.  

“You know how good I can make it for you,” he purred.  

“Mmmm,” she moaned quietly in agreement.  

“Let me take care of you.” 

“Cassian.” 

“You make my name sound so sexy,” he grazed his stubbled jaw against the bruise he’d worked into her throat, the sensitive skin blushing warm at the contact as he moved his mouth to another location and started kissing and nibbling there.  “Untie me, baby, and I’ll give you everything you want.” 

Nesta smiled.  

“Or I could keep you tied up and just take it.” 

Cassian growled against her neck as she tilted her hips forward allowing his cock to spring up, and sank down on him again.  

She moaned, loud and keening. Hands snaking through his hair behind her as she rocked herself up and down slowly. There wasn’t a lot of friction, but for now it was enough just to revel in how good Cassian’s cock felt. That last orgasm having finally takes the edge off.  

“Fuck that’s it grind for me,” he moaned. His breath was hot against her neck and she could feel his heart beat. Feel every deep sound reverberate through his chest as she moved.   

His cock rubbed up against her g spot, colours and stars bleeding behind her eyes like fireworks.  

“Cassian,” she whimpered lowly.  

It was so good.  

Hands fumbling distractedly she brought her fingers to untie him.  And he deemed it all the permission he needed. Tearing himself free with a growl.  Capturing her mouth in a slow and wanton kiss as those big hands came to rove her body, taking his time to pull her apart.  

His touch hot and calloused, Nesta moaned into his mouth as he ran up her stomach, her hips, her thighs, her tits. Massaging and glazing every inch of her with a rough heat that made her feel like she was going to explode. Her body a champagne flute dangerously close to shattering at the frequency of his hot groans and growls.  

“Right there, oh right fucking there baby,”  She moaned quietly against his lips, one of his hands rubbing her hip and guiding her motions while the other palmed at her breast.  

“Yeah? You like that?” He dipped his head to pull down the straps of her bra and dress down with his teeth until her cleavage spilt from the cups. Pebbled nipples tight and rosy in the dim light, peaking over the balcony of her bra.  

“Mmmmm,” he murmured against her throat, exploiting the sensitive spot as he made his way back up to her face and watched her plump tits sway. A hand running from her hip down her thigh and back up again to slip between her legs to stroke her clit. 

Nesta whined softly.  

“Cassian…more…” 

She kissed him sluggish and distracted. The two of them humming and moaning every so often until he started caressing her clit tighter and her sounds grew more frantic.  

“Fuck uhhu, uhhu just like that,” she panted quietly into his mouth. “Oh god uhh, uhhh more…more…more more Cassian fuck me.” 

She was on her feet before she could complain that his hands were no longer between her thighs. Pushed up against the edge of his desk, hands falling splayed against the surface to stop herself falling across the wood and legs split apart.   

“Oh!” 

“Good girl,” he grunted deeply. “Moan for me.” 

His calloused fingers came to her clit, coaxing her closer to the edge as the other gripped her hip.  

“That’s it, that’s my girl such a good girl baby.” 

Mouth caught open as though on a fish hook Nesta started seeing black splodges, the puddles flaring in her vision on every one of his thrusts. Deep and dirty and filling her till she was so impossibly full she spilt over.  

“Fuck fuck just like that oh my god you’re so fucking tight, cum on my cock, cum on my cock, uh, uh, uh.”  

Cassian finished inside her with a guttural sound as she came. Pumping her full one last time with a brutal snap of his hips.  

She was vaguely aware of his ragged breathing against her ear. Somewhat sure her forearms had fallen flat against his desk and her head hung forward. Hair falling over her face and back arched as her tight sex twitched and fluttered around him.  

Coming back to her senses took longer than she’d ever admit.  

“Is that cctv?” Nesta asked eventually, head tipped back and resting on his shoulder. Eyes flicking in gesture to the tiny little camera in the opposite corner of the ceiling.  

“Don’t worry,” Cassian breathed. “It’s switched off.” 

She turned her gaze to him.  

“Shame.” 

He let out an exhausted and reverent sound that might have been a laugh. And just as exhausted, once he’d pulled out, he fell back into the chair behind him. Trousers pulled back up but unbuttoned.  

Nesta followed in fatigued suit, working her dress back down over her hips and sinking to the floor, back against the desk. She probably shouldn’t have worn black… but the impending bill and judgement from her dry cleaner would be worth it.  

“Friday night. Pick me up at eight,” she breathed.  

Cassian grinned.  

“You like Italian?”  

Nesta rolled her eyes from behind the reading glasses askew on her nose, but nodded none the less. She was sort of screwed if she didn’t. Cassian’s adopted family were Italian on his father’s side. The cuisine was going to be pretty commonplace if they kept seeing each other she imagined.  

“What are you thinking about?” He hummed, watching her.  

Nesta smiled. Then crawled toward him across the floor. “How I still have that table cloth you call a dinner jacket at my place.”  

 “Was that plan b?” He laughed, snaking an arm round her waist as she climbed into his lap. “Hold my jacket hostage till I agreed to go out with you again?”  

“No,” she glared at him softly, nestling into the crease of his shoulder. “Though I had thought about wearing it tonight. Just your jacket and a pair of heels.” 

Cassian licked his lips as though contemplating the sight and liking what he imagined very much. “Next time,” he hummed distractedly. Less promise more pleading. “This was…,” his free hand roved down her side, the black fabric glued to her figure. “And these…,” his touch made her melt as he ran down her thigh and platform boot, her legs flicked over one another.  

“Lethal,” he whispered.  

Nesta scoffed. “You’re telling me. My toes are killing me.”  

Cassian hummed sympathetically, fitting a heel in his hand and guiding the shoe off her foot. Nesta groaned softly and he did the same with the other boot.  

“That bad?” He chuckled, starting to massage her.  

“Worth it though,” she sighed, nuzzling into his shoulder.  

  Cassian held the door open for Nesta to emerge out onto the street first. The cool night air whipping lazily at her hair. 

Their second date had been incredible.  

He’d taken her to Gnocco in the East Village. Proper Italian food, fairy lights, and intimate little corners perfect for flirting over too many glasses of wine and playing footsie beneath the table. Not to mention casual enough to see Nesta Archeron fitted out in heels, a snug black top, and a jaw dropping pair of jeans.  

Tactically quiet and effortlessly biting as ever, she’d been armed with passionate reviews on the podcasts she’d listened to or books she’d read that week. Asking him about his own week and listening thoughtfully in a way that had probably made him blush.  

If it hadn’t, then the way she’d licked at the creamy vanilla gelato on her dessert spoon definitely had.  

Cassian was far too tempted to slip his hand into the back pocket of her dark skinny jeans as he emerged after her, but he felt Nesta probably wasn’t one for PDA. Or more accurately, public groping. And he was determined to be on his best behaviour this evening. Determined to make her forget all about how shit-awfully he’d handled last Saturday.  

Not that he hadn’t given her a thorough apology.  

Consistency was key however, and there would be no lapse in his conduct any time soon when it came to Nesta. He’d lucked out so fucking hard in getting a second chance when he hadn’t even deserved the first with a woman like her. Clever and beautiful and passionate and god he had it bad.  

Had been thinking about her all week. Their date the only thing getting him through the late nights that were pretty much killing him at this point and the days spent arguing with Helion.  

Cassian had worked out who’d put a hit on his friend. And why.  

The contracts Helion was in the midst of signing were of a more personal nature that he’d originally let on. His will to be precise. In which it was detailed that upon his death, the pharmaceutical powerhouse that was Day Inc. should be handed over to Saoirse Vanserra.  

The married woman Helion had gone and fallen in love with twenty odd years ago. The mother of his child. 

Not that Helion had been aware of the that little detail until recently. Terminally ill, Saoirse hadn’t wanted the secret buried with her, and had gotten in touch with her old flame to tell him her youngest was his.  

Despite being well into his fifties, Helion behaved like a twenty-something at the best of times. But learning he had a son that actually was twenty-something had thrust him into a panicked play at accountability. Saoirse was going to die, and soon, but Helion would still have a piece of her, a piece of the both of them despite the estrangement that had haunted their relationship since the start. A piece he’d do every and anything in his power to do right by.  

Which meant Lucien would inherit his father’s company when the time came.  

But removing Saoirse from his will…it felt like signing her death warrant. At least that’s what he’d told Cassian. That it it felt like he was giving up on her.  

Cassian wished Helion could process everything in as much time as it took him. But time was a luxury not even the multi-millionaire could afford. Not with Saoirse’s eldest, Eris, trying to take him out before the will could be changed.  

As things stood, Eris was set to inherit anything of his mother’s- a compromise reached between Saoirse and her cunt of a husband who’d wanted everything in his name. The Vanserra court its own savage little patriarchy of snakes and vipers, meaning as long as Beron was around, what belonged to his sons, belonged to him.  

Still, Eris was the undisputed second in command and Beron wasn’t getting any younger. If he could take Helion out before any changes were made to the CEOs will, and if Saoirse’s doctors were to be believed, Day would practically be his by the end of the year.  

Maybe sooner. If Beron beat his cancer ridden wife to death upon learning she’d been left Helion Day’s company and why.   

He doubted anyone would put it past the bastard.  

“Hey,” Nesta’s voice tugged at his attention as they turned off tenth. “Where’d you go?”  

Cassian snaked his arm around her small waist, pulling her against him. “Just thinking,” he said. And as hard as he tried to push those thoughts away, something of them lingered in his voice.  

She raised a neat eyebrow. That little beauty spot above the arch lifting with it and the one beneath the corner of her plump bottom lip quirking just barely.  

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you do that before.” 

He couldn’t help but laugh. Tucking her tighter to his side as he looked down at her. “That’s because the only thing I ever think about is you. And when I’m with you, I don’t have to do that, do I?” 

Her blush was so utterly adorable it made him want to kiss her senseless.  

“How do you do that?” Those eyes like the smoke of ice narrowed in sincere curiosity. It was a little terrifying.  Which off course only made him like her more.  

“What? Make you blush like a-” 

“No,” she interrupted him with an embarrassed and chiding laugh, pushing at his chest slightly. “Say things, just say them-  like the only thing that matters is that you mean them?” 

Cassian smiled. “Not everything has to be done strategically, Nesta.”  

“Says the military man.” 

“And wouldn’t you say that makes me qualified to- okay fine, roll your eyes at me. Jokes on you because it’s actually very sexy when you do that so.” 

Nesta laughed, her head falling to rest below his chest as they walked.  

“Fortunate you say something to make me roll my eyes every five seconds then,” she hummed.  

“And that I know just how to make those eyes roll back,” he purred lowly in response with a roguish grin, rubbing his thumb against where her coat lay over her stomach.  

“Oh and you’re telling me this whole conversation wasn’t strategically constructed so you could use that line?” Nesta looked up at him.  

“Sweetheart, when are you going to accept that I’m just incredibly smooth?” He grinned. “Besides, that wasn’t a line.”  

“That was so a line!”  

“You’d know if I was giving you a line.” 

“Go on then. Give me your best line,” she challenged. Stopping dead and turning on him with her arms folded. Cassian didn’t let his arm slip from around her waist though. Kept it right where it was as he brought his free hand to tuck a lock of chocolatey hair behind her ear. Inspiration striking him.  

“Are you a box of chocolates?” he asked, gravelly and suggestive.  “Because I’d love to take your top off.”  

Nesta really had the loveliest laugh in the world.  

“That’s awful!” She put her hands firm against his chest. “How did you ever get laid before I took pity on you?”  

“Um I’m gorgeous and rich,” he reminded her, both arms now caging her in.  

“What a coincidence,” Nesta purred, their noses tucked against one another just barely thanks to his date’s shoes. No doubt expensive as they were tall.  

“No coincidences here, sweetheart. This is all fate.” 

“I’m deliberately not rolling my eyes just to spite you for saying something so cliché and dumb,” she murmured.  

“Fine then. Fate and your meddling sister,” he admitted.  

“Let’s not talk about my little sister right now,” Nesta’s hands snaked up to toy with the lapels of his coat.  

“What would you rather we talk about?”  

“I don’t want to talk at all,” she whispered. And pulled him down lazily to meet her mouth.  

Cassian moulded his lips to the perfect pressure of her own. Hard and soft, her mouth like velvet and her body pressing into his tight and loose in all the right places.  

Kissing Nesta was like brushing you fingers against the glacial softness of snow like flakes of glass. Irresistible and inevitable. Burning so soft at first before the sensation grew unbearably tender and acute.  It reminded you that you were alive.  

The movements of their mouths grew hotter, no less lethargic, but simply heavier. Like they had all the time in the world and planned to exploit every second.  

So much for not into PDA, Cassian thought, as she coaxed his mouth open further with her tongue, his own slowly swiping to meet it. And he did slip his hand into her back pocket then, giving her a fond and pining squeeze which pulled her tighter into him.  

The pads of her thumbs brushed at either side of his jaw as she arched a little, those perfect tits pushed against his upper body and he dug his fingers a little more possessively into the fabric of her coat. Bunching at her waist beneath his calloused touch.  

Nesta sighed sweetly into him-  

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Cassian swore.  Tame Impala playing from his pocket.  

“Looks like I’m not the only one who likes your attention,” Nesta laughed quietly, hands smoothing back to her sides politely. The little menace. Her effortless composure all the more devastating with her mouth kissed cherry-red and pupils blown wide as saucers.  

He fished out his phone, and declined the call.  

“Well you’re the only one getting it.” 

She rose her brows as though she were impressed, winding her arms back around his neck.  

“For a man who hates games you have game, Velaris.” 

“Would you feel less wooed if I told it you was just Rhysand?” He admitted. Rejecting his busybody brother’s phone call a far less bold gesture than if it had been work.  

Nesta’s little smile was like molten satin.  

“That makes it even better,” she kissed him again.  

Cassian kissed her back through his laugh, dipping her back slightly for a more indulgent angle, her arms lacing tighter around him to hold herself up. Like he’d let her fall.  

Nesta was the one laughing now and it tasted like gelato and champagne and sunrises. He nipped at her lip as he pulled her back up with him snuggly, and she brought her hand to cup the side of his face, the other at his tapered waist.  

“I should get going,” she hummed distractedly,  hand gliding up his body like she didn’t even realise.  

Her tongue caressed his slowly before he was muttering against her, “probably”, chasing the plush heat of her mouth.  

They didn’t stop. Not even as Nesta was murmuring a disjointed, “heighten the…suspense…keep you…wanting and all that.” 

“I’m already losing interest,” he purred gruffly, their jaws knocking intimately as the kiss became hotter and fitful, short breaths and hungry mouths. Her nails scraping softly up the nape of his neck and through his hair.  

“And you’re looking for it in my back pocket, is that it?” She whispered, and Cassian gave her ass a firm squeeze as either confirmation or reprimand.  

She bit his bottom lip, the nip of her pearly teeth giving way to a sensual sort of chewing that made his eyes roll back behind closed lids and his large hands wound through her hair to guid her head back so he could take charge. Kissing her slow once again but dirtier, thorough and wanton and Nesta keened almost silently.  

“Found it,” Cassian said thickly into her mouth.  

“Want your prize?” She whispered breathlessly.  

“Yes please.” 

Nesta slid her hand between them. Fingers brushing his belt, then lower- 

Cassian couldn’t tell if he was relieved or devastated when she slipped her way inside his pocket and plucked free his phone.  

She withdrew just barely from the kiss, switched it on and turned the screen to him. The device unlocked as both his hands tucked into her pockets and her manicured thumbs were tapping away.  

Cassian brushed at the curved beam of her high cheekbone with his nose, trying to see what she was up to.  

“What are you doing?”  

“Callander says you’re free Friday. Or it did.  Now it says you have a date.” She nestled herself back into him tightly, tucking the device back into his pocket, exploiting that teasing proximity to something else entirely and driving him crazy as she grazed his mouth with her own.  

“Congratulations.” 

Cassian grinned.  

“Tha- wait just to be clear the date is with you, right?”  

 “Yes, Cassian, the date is with me,” she chuckled. “And I can’t wait,” her humming melted to something wordless and heavy as he kissed her again.  

Slow and explicit he stroked his tongue inside and he swore he felt the flutter of her lashes against his cheek.  

“Cassian,” she breathed almost silently and it burnt his lungs like freezing air.  

“Can I take you home?” Cassian whispered.  

“May I take you home,” Nesta corrected between the sinful caress of their lips.  

“Please do.” 

She was kissing the smirk off his face like she could taste how snug he was and wanted a piece of it for herself. Like she were working at a marshmallow or strawberry lathered with thick chocolate from a hot fountain of the stuff.  

“Maybe you are smooth,” she whispered and it only inflated Cassian’s self satisfaction. “But we both know I like it rough.” Ouch. “Just like we both know you’re way too exhausted to have your way with me.” 

He pulled back abruptly.  

But his mouth had barely opened to argue when she gave him a definitive “don’t”. It was little bit arousing. “You said yourself how late you’ve been working. Have you slept at all this week?” 

For all her icy glares and hellish attitude, at her core, Nesta was kind. She cared despite her pretences to the contrary and it meant she noticed things. Like how despite his lively grins, Cassian was out for the fucking count.  

“That’s what I thought. You can screw me when I know you won’t pass out before making it to third base.” 

“The only one who’d be passing out is you once I’m through fu-” 

“Save that thought for a night you have the energy to see it through,” she said.  

“But I-” 

A quirk of her neat brows shut him up.  

He growled a bitter but accepting sound. She was right, of course she was right, because she was Nesta and a Nesta was always right.  

“Friday,” he promised. “I’m gonna cook for you, something fucking romantic.” 

“More romantic than that sentence?”  

“Look I may not be Keats but I know my way round a stove, so hold all sarcastic comments until I’ve fed you.” 

“I’ll try, but I know for a fact you’re going to make that very hard.” 

“How have you already failed?” 

“Shut up,” Nesta laughed.  

“You have the sexiest fucking laugh.” 

“So you’ve said,” she blushed.  

“And I’ll keep saying it if every time I do you blush like that.” 

“Like I’m embarrassed for you?” she countered with an arched brow and a cruel twitch at the corner of her mouth.  

“You’re so mean,” he grinned.  

They made their way to the curb and hailed down a car on twelf. 

“Want me to ride with you back to your apartment?” he said, opening the back door of a yellow cab that had pulled up for her.  

“That’s sweet, but trust me, I can take care of myself,” she promised.   

“Text me when you get home safe and sound just to spite me then,” he said from the opposite side of the door.  

“I will. But you better not be awake to read it,” She gave him a lingering kiss before gracefully tucking herself inside.  

“Night, gorgeous,” he winked, and shut the door.  

Her ride had just turned onto fourteenth when Cassian decided against hailing his own despite the cold. It was only fifteen or so minutes on foot, and he could probably do with cooling down.  

Though even if he had to trek through tundra to get home he suspected he’d still find himself burning up under a cold shower in an attempt not to jack off to the thought of Nesta like a fourteen year old.  

Stuffing his already slightly numb hands into his pockets he began walking, his fingers brushing against his phone. He should probably call Rhys back.  

The phone rang for a moment before his brother picked up.  

“Did you decline my call?” 

“Yup.” 

“Bastard.” 

“I’m sure Feyre will kiss your bruised ego better,” Cassian grinned as he walked. “Along with something else so long as she doesn’t hear you’ve been calling me names,” he added slyly.  

“Are you threatening to tell on me to my wife?” Rhysand asked, a little wound up by the allusion to Feyre’s kissing certain places even if he hid it behind an unimpressed drawl.  

“Are you pretending the thought doesn’t have you quaking in your givenchy loafers?”  

“On the topic of not upsetting Feyre, she’s demanding a family dinner.” 

He laughed deeply at Rhysand’s avoiding the question.  

“That why you’re calling?” 

“Partly,” Rhys said. “Work’s been…She wants to be around family right now,” he said with an all too familiar casualness. “You free?” 

“For Feyre?” Cassian said without hesitation.  “Yeah, I’m free.” 

He would just have to pull an all nighter on the Monday. 

“Thank you. And also fuck you for implying if it was for me you wouldn’t be,” his brother said.  

“Well you called me just as Nesta was about to slip her tongue down my throat so-” 

“Nesta?” Rhys interrupted. “I thought that was over?” 

Shit.  

In all the carnage that had been the last week he hadn’t bothered letting his family know he and Nesta were back on. The woman was a touchy subject and he hadn’t had the energy or balls to get into it.  

While Rhys had been able to excuse Elain’s inactivity when the Archerons had been at their financial lowest, he’d never managed to extend that same courtesy to Nesta. Maybe it was because the first time they’d met she’d called him a cradle snatching whore. Regardless, Rhysand pretty much hated the woman’s guts, meanwhile his wife was desperately trying to lure her into the inner circle of the Velaris family.  

Cassian may have been able to bench a number higher than his IQ but he wasn’t dumb. He’d clocked on to the fact his sister-in-law was using him as Nesta bait.  In all honesty he was loving it. Nothing made him happier than helping out his family, and if that meant taking out an intelligent, passionate, stunning young woman, then really it was a double-win.  

Taking a second to grind his jaw softly he was reminded to tread carefully. Not something he generally excelled at, but for the sake of his brother he could try.  

“I know you’re not her biggest fan,” he said. “But Feyre forgave her years ago for bailing-” 

“Well Feyre’s a better person than I am.” 

“I’ll say. She set me up with a smoking hot model, meanwhile you’re trynna cock block me,” he tried.  

“You can put your dick wherever you want, doesn’t mean I have to like it.” 

“I guess not,” he ground out. Itching to hit something at the implication Nesta was just “somewhere to put his dick”.  

“Cassian if you want to date a biblical plague in human form knock yourself out, seriously, god knows Feyre will be thrilled. And Azriel, your moping-” 

“I don’t mope,” Cassian interjected.  

“Fine, your stropping-” 

“Fuck off.” 

Rhys’ laugh was about smug as the bastard’s crooning voice.  

“Mor’s gonna kill you by the way. You put a two grand dent in her wine collection over a woman you took back the next week.” 

Cassian groaned, wiping a hand over his face. The only thing worse than the hangover he’d had Monday morning would be Morrigan’s laying into him on this.  

“Don’t you dare tell her,” he warned.  

“Fine but you’ll have to do it before next Sunday, you’re bringing Nesta.” 

“Hang on a minute-” 

“Feyre wants a family dinner and if you and Nesta are back on that means she’s coming,” Rhys said.  

“Boy you are asking a lot of me here,” Cassian sighed dramatically. “I mean I can think of a few ways to persuade her but most of them are illegal in a lot of countries,” he grinned.  

“I don’t care if you have to roofie her and strap her to the hood of your car, just make sure she’s there.” 

“Alright, alright Don.” 

“Don’t call me that,” Rhys growled irritably to Cassian’s delight.  

“What else were you calling about then?” He smirked. “You said dinner was only part of it.” 

“I wanted to ask how things were going with Helion,” his brother said. “Any update?” 

Cassian sighed heavily.  

“This a secure line?” 

“Always”. 

“The hit’s Eris,” he said. “Apparently Saoirse does pretty well for herself if Helion kicks it and it’s looking like she won’t last the year. When she goes Eris takes the lot so he’s trying to take Helion out before he can change his will.” 

“That little bitch,” Rhys interrupted.  

“I’m not done. Guess who Helion might be transferring that inheritance to?” 

“Is Azriel going to finally have the funds to build that sex dungeon?”  

“Not quite,” Cassian said. “The money’s going to Lucien.” 

“Lucien?” 

“Turns out the kid’s his.” 

“Fucking hell.” 

“Seems obvious in hindsight to be honest.” 

Rhys was silent on the other end for a moment as he evidently thought through matter.   

“You said might, is he waiting on a paternity test or something?” 

Cassian winced. “No. No he’s dragging his feet about changing the will altogether.” 

“Why the fuck is he doing that there’s a bullet with his name on it!” 

“You think I don’t know that?” Cassian hissed, trying to keep his voice down. “I’m the one whose gonna have to jump in front of that bullet if he doesn’t get his ass in gear. But he…he’s losing the love of his life, Rhys. I’m trynna cut him a little slack-” 

“Slack Eris is going to have someone strangle him with.” 

“I’m handling it,” Cassian promised.  

Rhys went silent again.  

“We could always just kill Eris.” 

Cassian would have laughed at the unrestrained glee in his brother’s voice if the suggestion hadn’t been so tempting.  

“No you can’t,” he reminded him, ascending the steps to his front door.  

“Sorry, sorry, you probably want plausible deniability and all that- which is a shitty reason to leave a family business-” 

“What are you talking about? I left because I don’t like any of you.” 

“Dick.” 

“See it’s that kind of thing that made for a hostile work environment I really couldn’t foresee a future working under,” he grinned, unlocking the door.  

“You taught me words far more creative than that growing up, monte de merda-” 

“Desenmerda-te, and don’t cuss at me in Portuguese carcamano.” 

“I’m fucking Persian!” 

“Tell that to your pale ass like unbaked garlic bread, minchia,” Cassian retorted in Italian as he tossed his keys onto the skirting board and shrugged off his coat.  

“A fanabla!”  

“Love you too, tell Feyre I said hi.” 

“See you and Nesta on Sunday, I’ll text you timings.” 

“No shop talk okay, she still doesn’t know anything about-” 

“I know, I know, it’s not me you have to worry about. Feyre keeps asking me to hire her.” 

“As what? Has Cosa Nostra began dabbling in the modelling industry under your direction, baby brother?” 

“If I said yes would you come back to us?” 

“I’m a one woman man, Rhys.” 

“Jesus, it’s been less than a month.” 

“At which point you and Feyre were engaged.” 

“Nesta’s no Feyre.” 

Yeah, Nesta has enough wit about her to know you can’t go round offering Mafia jobs like candy, he thought to himself.  

“Whatever man, I’ll see you then.” 

“See you then.” 

 TAG LIST

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[barnesandco]

Little Hands (IV)

Series Masterlist

Communication is key.

This is an entry for @star-spangled-bingo 2021. Word count: 2248. Square filled: “Sung to Sleep”

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: More Hydra Evilness, More Sad Child, Parental Anxieties. Brief mentions of war, sickness, death, grief. 

A/N: I know 2.2k words isn’t objectively a lot but boy did this feel like it. I hope every word is worth it and that you enjoy! Lmk what you think!!! Also I won’t even lie, the idea of Steve’s kids is 100% from one of my favorite comfort fics, family means no one gets left behind or forgotten, by the genius, the wonderful cosmicocean. IT’S SO SOFT. Pls read it.

You’re stunned when Bucky tells you what’s going on. The idea that his daughter (?) was made in a lab like some kind of experiment, and that the man who led said experiment now wants her back like she is his property, his weapon, is too horrid to consider for very long. Weaponizing an innocent child. Hydra.

Bucky gave you the broad strokes of the investigation – currently running on little more than educated guesses based on the meagre intel they have – and has let you know that he has had to recuse himself from the case, due to his… personal connection. That leaves him somewhere he finds awkward, to say the least.

It's evident in the way the corners of his lips turn down, how he is constantly rubbing the pads of his fingers against the coarse scratch of denim, while he watches Ana watch Zoya, Steve’s 17-year-old daughter, working on a tablet. Zoya tucks a strand of hair behind her hijab, then continues to draw up a storyboard, narrating the events to the younger girl. Steve had apparently forgotten the lunch his kids had made him at home, so Zoya had brought it in, and decided to stay the day.

Ana’s quiet, attentive for the most part, listening with her full capabilities, but her eyes flit away from the screen every now and then to look at you and Bucky, as if to reassure herself that you’re still there.

Besides that, there aren’t all that many distractions present for an already precocious child. Most of the team has dispersed for the investigation, with the exception of Peter, who is sat at a table in the corner making intentionally fruitless efforts at teaching Morgan chess, while she giggles and tries to stack the pieces like Jenga blocks instead.

However, Bucky’s restlessness is infectious, and you think he needs to get it under check before it grows any further. That’s why you stand, saying, “Could we go for a little walk, Bucky?”

He nods, man of few words that he is, and leads the way. You’re sure he knows that you formulated it like a request for his benefit, but he doesn’t mention it. It’s just as well – that he knows you like that, and knows when to accept the proverbial hand being offered.

Bucky takes you to a corner of the roof that you’d mistake for a community garden if you didn’t know any better. The Avengers seem to have green thumbs, or at least, a significant portion of them do. They’re good with plants, and possessive about them, too. Autumn ferns grow outside the circle they seem to have been planted in – with a sign shouting Wanda! – to invade the territory of a vegetable garden labelled Bruce (accompanied by a Hulkish, green thumbs up presumably not drawn by the man himself).  

Meticulously maintained daylilies and columbines, in vivid reds and vibrant purples, litter the edges of the path that has been carved through this little paradise, and the birdhouses between them stake the claim of the owner more effectively than a neon sign screaming Sam Wilson. Bucky’s told you about his abilities, how they veer into the decidedly supernatural but Sam insists are only the residue of a childhood with homing pigeons.

Nothing here looks like Bucky’s, though. He seems to be taking it in, perhaps thinking about his own little paradise back in the city, and how he’s chosen to keep it distant from that of his teammates. That worries you. He worries you.

And this, the situation with Anastasia, becoming a father, it’s terrifying. Hell, if it scares you this much, how is he feeling? You ask him as much.

“Bucky, are you okay?”

He laughs, softly, disbelievingly, no malice in his scoff, only fear. Only the sound of a voice saturated with consternation and total, complete anxiety. “Would you be?” He asks back.

“That’s why I’m asking.”

Bucky evades the questions, turning first one way on the path, and then the other, approaching the edge clear of shrubbery and blooms alike, resting his palms on the top of the wall.

“I can’t be a father.”

The solemnity in his tone allows no room for negotiations, but then, neither do the facts. “You are,” you reply, somewhat hesitantly, because the technicalities of how Ana came to be are still a little blurry to you. She’s far from a normal child, and not quite a clone, either. She is of Bucky, though. His, in any way that counts.

“That little girl was created in a Hydra lab as a super soldier to serve the cause,” he says, shaking his head vigorously as the cause repulses him even more than it does you. “And who knows what else she was put through before SHIELD fell and Orlov got her out, and it’s my fault.”

“You didn’t—”

“I didn’t ask for it to happen but it wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t happened. They used me to make a super soldier from scratch, and now I’m supposed to raise her? It’s not that simple. I’m not Steve. I can’t…”

Being honest, you feel you’re pretty far out of your depth here. But you’ve promised him your help, and you’ll do your best.

“You don’t have to. There are other options.” You’re sure you’re overstepping. Perhaps this gentle companionship has not yet reached the point where you can give advice on parenting. But if you don’t, who will? Steve, whose answers don’t enter the gray territory Bucky’s mind is residing in right now, who parents like he was born for it?

Steve chose fatherhood. Bucky has been nailed to it like it’s a new cross to bear, heavier than all the previous ones put together.

His gaze roams the grounds that stretch as far as you can see. You’re both far away from home right now, far outside your comfort zones.

“I’m sorry for dragging you into my mess, sweetheart. It’s not right. You have things to do, and I shouldn’t have—”

“Bucky, I’ve been staring at the same four sentences of dialogue for the past month. I literally could not have been happier to get out of the house. Even if I do wish it was under better circumstances,” you say fervently. You’re here because he needs you. Because Ana needs you. It’s nice to be needed.

“That’s one way to put it,” he smiles, and you’re glad to see it.

“Not to mention, it’s not your fault. It’s not anyone’s fault except whoever your team is looking for,” you insist. “And Ana’s a sweet girl. A little quiet, but Baba says I was, too.”

This, Bucky thinks about. You wonder if he was a quiet child, too. “What’s he like?”

“Hmm?” The reverie snaps like a rubber band.

“Your father?” Bucky asks, shyly, his eyes meeting yours, letting you know exactly why he’s asking.

You look up at the clouds, think back to Boston, to time shared between the library and the park. A childhood with books, lunch breaks under a desk in an office at MIT, stealing his glasses and running away with them, rubbing at his stubbly beard like he was a housecat. Inside jokes with your father and rolled eyes with your mother. Laughter and tears, laughter with tears.

After a long while, trying and failing to summarize your father, you say, “A jokester. The most sarcastic person I know. But still kind of neurotic, to be honest. The kind of parent that makes you show up at the airport a full four hours before your flight.” It’s grossly insufficient. For a writer, you’re not very good with words. You suppose it’s not the words that are the problem; it’s the lifetime they have to encompass. “What about yours?”

Bucky sighs. “Soldier. He’s one thing I don’t feel bad for not remembering because it wasn’t Hydra that wiped those memories. He just died when I was really small. Survived the Great War only to be killed by TB a few years later at home.”

“I’m sorry.” You avert your eyes. Grief feels private, even decades later, even in the smallest doses.

He shakes his head, smiles fondly, up at the sky, too, like you did. Only, he’s smiling at it, like he’s thinking of someone beyond the clouds. “Don’t be. Was a long time ago.”

“That doesn’t mean it isn’t allowed to hurt anymore.”

“You sound like my therapist.”

“I sound like my therapist.”

At this, the two of you look at each other and burst into laughter. It feels forbidden, as though the severity of the situation condemns joy. That isn’t fair, you think. The situation is that of a child, and nobody needs laughter more than kids do. Food for the soul.

When the echo of your exhilarations falls, Bucky grows serious once more. “They have them for kids, now, too, right?” He asks, referring to therapists. “Do you think Anastasia should see one? She’s not exactly… normal, you know?”

“Maybe.” It’s a difficult question, but a good indicator of how Bucky is growing to feel about Ana. “You’d make a good dad, if you wanted to be one, Bucky,” you say, and mean it. It’s plain as day that he cares about her.

“I can’t even remember my own.”

“Parental instincts are intuitive, not genetic,” you tell him.

“You been reading handbooks?” He teases.

“You’d be surprised by how much you learn from the rabbit holes you fall down while researching books,” you deadpan.

“Can any of that research get the nightmares out of my head? I think it might scare a kid.”

The self-deprecation hurts, but your response is honest, heartfelt. “She likes you already.”

“She won’t if she thinks I’ve run away,” he answers, straightening up. He might be trying to evade the conversation, but you’ll let him, for now. He’s gotten some fresh air, had some time to clear his thoughts, or sort them, at least. And so you return, to the little girl who has a tighter grip on both of you than you even realize.

------

Ana grows unsettled as night darkens the sky. It could be the ruckus she isn’t quite used to. It could be the toy fire truck Tony has been altering with his utensils to increase its noise output, much to Morgan’s amusement. It could be the actual parrot perched on Sam’s shoulder.

Whatever the cause, she hasn’t succumbed to it enough to make a seat out of the fridge again. She’s sitting in her seat, between Bucky and yourself, eating the hummus Bruce and Wanda have made. Nat discusses sniper scopes with Clint, Peter tries to get away with eating the side of vegetables on Jordan’s plate without Steve noticing, and Bucky eats silently, eyes almost constantly on Anastasia, who takes it all in while her knee bounces up and down with an ever-increasing speed, much like her father’s.

You excuse yourselves soon after dessert, after Morgan has fallen asleep against Jordan’s arm on the couch, and Steve and Tony’s friendly debate is starting to develop the edge it tends to when they’ve been bantering for too long.

Bucky sets up on the sectional in his room, and leaves the ridiculously large double bed to you and Anastasia. It’s been a strange, strange day, and one can only hope that tomorrow brings some ease, a balm for the prickly, fiery ache that has settled over the man you care so much about.

------

When you wake, it’s because of singing. For half a moment, you think you’re in a dream, but as your eyes adjust to the blanket of dark, you see the shadow on the sofa nearby. Only, it’s bigger than just Bucky. Anastasia is sitting on his lap, her head cushioned against his chest. Scrambling for your glasses, and turning on the lamp on the bedside table, you notice that there are trails of drying tears on her little cheeks, and she’s still shaking with the aftershocks of whatever scare she must’ve had during the night.

Not for the first time, you curse your deep sleep that meant you didn’t wake with Ana, but watch in wonder as Bucky sings.

Hush, little baby, don't say a word Papa's going to buy you a mockingbird

And if that mockingbird won't sing Papa's going to buy you a diamond ring

Ana’s eyes begin to close, but she fights the sleep. Bucky doesn’t let her. He lies down, easing her down beside himself, singing all the while.

And if that diamond ring turns brass Papa's going to buy you a looking glass

And if that looking glass gets broke Papa's going to buy you a billy goat

His voice fills the room, low though it may be, and he curls himself around Ana.

And if that billy goat won't pull Papa's going to buy you a cart and bull

And if that cart and bull turn over Papa's going to buy you a dog named Rover

She succumbs to the lull of his tone, his song, his promises, sighs a little sigh, lets the last, little hiccup leave her body.

And if that dog named Rover won't bark Papa's going to buy you a horse and cart

And if that horse and cart fall down You'll still be the sweetest little baby in town

Bucky lifts his hand from where it was stroking the hair at her temple, and lays his arm over his daughter. They’re safe, for now. Together.

[emsylcatac]

Compatible

Summary:

When Ladybug brings some of the old magazines she used to read as a teenager to a sleepover with Chat Noir, they end up doing an 'Adrien Agreste compatibility test', something that she has done more than once as a teenager.

There's no way her partner could beat her at it and get a higher score than her. No way.

Read it on AO3

Ladynoir identity reveal commission for @multibug​​ ♥ | Donation drive @mlbforblm​

Thank you so much again for beta-reading this, @rosekasa​ ♥

The proceeds of this commission go to Color of Change, a racial justice organisation centered on the Black Lives Matter movement!

You can learn more about MLB for BLM & the different contributors on the blog, and you can view info for commissioning me for art or fics here!

You’re of course very welcome to commission any of our talented contributors and donate if you can! Otherwise you can help us to spread the word by reblogging the different posts from the blog! Thanks for your help ♥🤜🤛

* * * * *

Ladybug looked around the room at the mess she and Chat Noir had left from the evening before. Scattered UNO cards on the table, empty glasses and half empty bottles of wine and cider, a plate with only three or four cookies left, and abandoned game controllers on ottomans in front of the small TV.

They always left a mess when they had a sleepover together; always because they went to bed way too late and were too tired to clean it all.

She loved that.

She turned her head to look at her partner half-sitting beside her on the sofa bed. The sheets were pulled up his waist, and he was wearing a dark grey t-shirt v-neck as a pajama that suited him particularly well. She herself was wearing a red with tiny black polka-dots tank top, and a pair of small black pajama shorts.

Chat Noir was smiling at whatever he was reading on his phone. Ladybug propped her head on his shoulder, but kept her gaze away from the device.

“What are you looking at?”

He kept silent a few seconds, still grinning, before answering. “I told my best friend about what my supervisor said to me yesterday. He’s telling me he’s gonna buy an electric racket for mosquitoes and slap him with it.”

Ladybug chuckled. “I like your friend.”

Chat Noir was doing an internship somewhere in the city, and while it seemed like he enjoyed it, his supervisor sounded everything but kind to him. Something Ladybug couldn’t understand, knowing how nice her partner was.

“I thought you would,” he replied, turning his phone off and putting it on the nightstand.

After defeating Hawkmoth four years ago, Ladybug and Chat Noir had both taken a break to focus on their studies. He had been somewhere abroad from what she gathered; she had studied in another city. Now they were both back in Paris and had been for a year; a new threat needing the heroes had arisen.

It had been good to see her partner and best friend again after all this time, a deliverance of sorts. Being older opened up to a lot more freedom than they had as young teenagers: they were more lenient regarding their identities, for one. Ladybug even offered more than once to reveal each other, but Chat Noir told her he was not quite ready yet. It had surprised her a lot, but if he needed time, she would let him take it.

Still, it hadn’t kept them from getting even closer than they used to be.

Ladybug wished they could be even closer. She suspected that Chat Noir probably did, too, yet neither of them pushed for it. The very comfortable friendship they had now established was both a blessing and a curse in that regard.

While it was easier for her to stay at her parent’s house for now, Chat Noir had had a new personal studio. It wasn’t big; just the kind of place you’d expect from any average student having to rent a far too expensive place for what it was, courtesy of living in Paris—but it was enough. It was great to plot against their enemy… or for sleepovers, a habit they had taken soon after he got it.

Chat Noir looked at the pile of old magazines she had brought—they were the ones she read as a teenager, the ones she gossiped about with Alya during their sleepovers. She had thought it could be fun to try that with him, even if they were definitely not up to date.

“We forgot to read those!” he exclaimed, getting up.

She watched as he closed his eyes to pick one at random, and brought it back to the bed.

“Which one did you get?”

“Let’s see… oooh, ‘Clara Rossignole is looking for a Ladybug and a Chat Noir for her next music video’”, he read aloud. “Wow. How old is that stuff?”

“Er, I think I must have been fifteen or something so… Seven years old?”

“Amazing! Exactly what I need to keep up with the latest juicy gossip!” He grinned.

Ladybug laughed and leaned on his shoulder to have a better look at the magazine. She remembered that one with this cover very well, it was the one where there was a personality test about—

“‘How compatible are you with teen model Adrien Agreste’, page 21.” Chat Noir fake-gasped. “Spiiicy! Let’s do it!”

As he opened the magazine, Ladybug hoped that it wouldn’t be too obvious to see how easy it was to find the page right away. Despite the years that had passed, the page was still bearing the marks of having been opened and opened again and stared at for far too long, more than any other.

If he noticed, Chat Noir chose not to comment.

He grabbed a four-coloured pen on his nightstand. “Wow, my Lady, that’s a lot of ink on there! We can barely see the little symbols in front of the answers.”

Well. She had had to take the test more than once to get a better score. She’d been aiming for a hundred percent compatibility, a hundred-and-one if she was lucky, or over-compatible—as she should have been back then according to herself.

Not that she would admit that to him.

“I had done it with friends. That’s why it’s so… inky.”

Chat Noir hummed, suspicious, but didn’t push further.

“And it doesn’t work with symbols, it’s a points system. So we can’t cheat,” she added.

She would know. She had tried.

He snorted. “You remember this surprisingly well, Buguinette.”

She didn’t comment on that very accurate observation. Instead, she dropped a kiss on his cheek.

“Why do you want to do that test anyway?”

“Because it’s fun! And to see if I can get a better score than you,” he said.

She scoffed. “As if you would win! I’m unbeatable at this.”

That made him snicker. “Unlike with UNO?”

She glared at him at that and pulled her head away from his shoulder. He brought her back with an arm around her, and kissed her temple apologetically.

She begrudgingly accepted the kiss. Very begrudgingly. (She couldn’t help but smile at the contact of his lips).

(She also couldn’t help but snuggle closer to him).

“So,” Chat Noir went on, “what do we have for the first question… Oooh, ‘which colour is your favourite? Green, Blue, Pink or Red?’,” he raised a brow. “That’s not a lot of choices in my opinion.”

“Blue,” Ladybug automatically answered.

Chat Noir snorted. “No, yours is pink Bugacheat, I know that well enough,” and he circled the answer in red. “However, mine is blue.”

“Maybe I changed favourite colour.”

“No, you didn’t,” he replied flatly. She pouted. “Next question. ‘What is your favourite season?’”

Ladybug pondered. She liked all seasons, after all; they each had their charm.

“Can’t we pick all of them?”

“Well, apparently you can’t because, according to this very accurate magazine, Adrien Agreste has only one favourite season.”

“Write ‘autumn’, then,” she decided.

He circled it in red for her, and circled spring in green for him.

“Okay, ‘how many times do you blink in the span of a minute? Fifteen, eighteen, twenty or twenty-two”, he frowned. “Where did they even get these information?”

“They have very good sources.”

“Sure,” he snorted. “Does Adrien Agreste himself even know the answer to that?”

“Well, of course, it’s in the magazine,” she laughed.

She knew it couldn’t really be trusted, but she liked to take these facts as straight science when she was younger.

“God, these tests are so bad,” Chat Noir shook his head. “How is that suppose to tell you if you’re compatible with him or not?”

“Hey! Don’t criticise my magazine or you’ll offend mini-me!”

“Well, Babybug, I think the questions from your magazine are dumb. And I’m answering… I don’t know... eighteen maybe?”

“Put twenty-two for me,” she said proudly.

She remembered the answer corresponding to Adrien’s to that question, but he didn’t need to know that.

They went on like that through the rest of the test, from morning routine to favourite scent—“Ew, why are one of the answers camembert?”— and gut reaction when faced with an akuma—“you would jump off of a building, Kitty”.  Ladybug tried to answer what ‘Adrien’ would do instead of herself, and Chat Noir corrected her each time—“I choose passion fruits!” - “there’s a reason you always take strawberry ice-creams, my Lady. You can’t fool me!” — until they arrived at the end of the test.

“Aaaaand I’ve got a score of…” Chat Noir paused, looking and calculating the results, “eighty-six percent! While you, on the other hand, despite trying to cheat on at least five questions—”

“Hey!”

“—have a score of… Aw, only forty-one!”

“What?!” Ladybug all but screamed.

“Ah, yes, it looks like I beat you Buguinette!” The little shit sounded so proud with himself.

“There’s no way your score is higher than mine,” she said, snatching the magazine from his hands and scrupulously recounting the points herself.

There was no way, indeed.

And yet.

Chat Noir knew how to count, alright. Ladybug was silently fuming.

No, it didn’t matter anymore whether she was compatible with her old crush or not. And yes, the magazine was probably incorrect anyway.

And sure, Adrien was twenty-two now, not fifteen, so his answers would probably not be the same anymore, but still.

She had to defend young-Marinette’s honour.

And in honour of young-Marinette’s past struggles and unconditional love, there was no way Chat Noir of all people could be more compatible with Adrien than herself.

Chat Noir’s laughters brought her out of her shocked horror.

“Aw, don’t pull that face, Bugachups, sometimes you win, sometimes you lose! Maybe you’ll beat me to the next! Say, they don’t have a compatibility test with Chat Noir by any chan—”

“You cheated.” She stated it calmly but coldly. She had to be calm about it. “You must have.”

Chat Noir guffawed. “I’m not you! Also why so upset? Afraid I ruined your chances with…” he took the magazine back from her hands to read the caption under the test’s title, “...Paris’ favourite teenage boy?” He frowned. “Hey, shouldn’t that have been me at the tim—”

“No, I’m not afraid of anything like that,” she grumbled. “It’s just that… I used to know everything there was to know about Adrien Agreste back in the day.”

He blinked. “Everything?!”

“Everything,” she repeated. “Also, I don’t need to do a Chat Noir compatibility test to know that I’d get a hundred percent at it.”

He snickered. “I sure do hope that you’d get a higher score with me than that poor forty-one percent.”

She hit him with her pillow. For making fun of her, and for not having taken the bait.

“Yes,” she insisted, “I’d have a better score and I’d get the highest, thank you very much.”

He gently pinched and squished her cheeks while nuzzling his nose against hers teasingly. “Aaaww, of course we would be the most compatible Buguichou, we’re made for each other!”

Better.

Still, they had become so comfortable with each other now that it could mean everything and nothing.

“Chat Noooiiiiir,” she whined in lieu of pushing further, “stop annoying me!”

He released her and laughed. “You love it when I annoy you!”

Yes.

“No.”

He snorted and shook his head. “Anyway.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “What was it about you knowing everything there was to know about teen model, Paris' darling extraordinaire Adrien Agreste?”

She groaned. “Please can we not?”

“No. I want to know more about the boy I’m eighty-six percent compatible with, Bugaboo! And who better to teach me all I need to know other than the finest expert you aaaaar—”

She snatched the magazine back from his hands and swatted him with it.

“You’re” —swat— “not” —swat— “more compatible than me” —hit— “with Adrien” she had him pinned on the bed and he was giggling, trying and failing to push her away, “because I had the biggest crush” —swat— “on him and I was” —swat— “in love with him, do you understand?”

She stopped hitting him to throw him her deadliest look.

“Wait, what?” he said, still grinning from the fight. “You were in love with him like… in love love?”

She crossed her arms. “Yes, I was in love love with him.”

He snorted. And then, slowly, his body shook more and more, the laughters coming from him getting louder and louder.

“You—,” he choked, raising a finger in her direction, “you were in love with Adrien Agreste when we were fifteen.”

She sighed. “Yes, I was in love with Adrien Agreste. Go on, laugh all you want, ‘ha-ha-ha, Ladybug was in love with Hawkmoth’s son, ha-ha,’ so funny.”

“Oh my god, yes, Ladybug in love with our enemy’s son,” he kept laughing. “Waaait, wait wait, hold on, that’s excellent but… when you told me you were in love with someone else, back then…”

Her stomach fluttered at the memory that yes, Chat Noir used to be in love with her.

“...Does that mean that he was the boy you were referring to?” he looked at her expectantly.

She didn’t reply.

“He was?!" he exclaimed. “Ladybug, that’s… that’s… that’s hilarious!” and he was back laughing, even louder than before.

She glared at him, before grabbing her pillow once again and hitting him with it.

“No, no—I’ll stop, I’ll stop! But you don’t understand, this is so funny!”

“I really don’t see why.” And with that she lay down on the bed and turned around, her back to him. “Adrien is a very sweet person, I had great taste.”

Today, however, by loving Chat Noir? Maybe not so much, she decided.

A warm hand settled on her arm.

(She still had great tastes).

“Say, my Lady… if you were to meet that Adrien boy today and he were to ask you on a date… would you say yes?” She could still hear the remainder of his amusement in his voice, but he seemed to have calmed down, now.

She turned around to face him. He was lying on the side, propped on one elbow with his head resting on his hand. She pondered his question a few seconds. She hadn’t seen Adrien in a while, after all.

And… there was someone else now. She wasn’t fifteen anymore.

“I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

He was rubbing small circles on her arm.

“Oh?” he said with a hint of amusement in his voice. “What would fifteen-year-old-Bugbooboo think about that?”

She snorted. “She wouldn’t believe I’d ever say that. She’d think I lost my mind.”

He chuckled with her.

She frowned. “But… well, we all change when we grow up and… Adrien is probably still a great person. And I mean, with what he had to go through, I admire him a lot. But also, there’s some—… there’s…  there’s...”

“There’s what?”

You.

“Chat Nooiiir,” she tugged at the kwagatama around his neck instead, and raised her eyes to his. She bit her lip. “You know.”

She couldn’t get the words out of her mouth. Even after all these years, confessing was still something she found herself struggling with. But she kept his gaze as he silently searched hers; she wouldn’t back away or hide from it.

She kept it as he slowly took the hand that was fiddling with his necklace and lifted it to his lips. Kept it as he gently kissed the tips of her fingers. As she felt a shiver and the heat rising to her cheeks and was sure he could see it, too.

And she still kept his gaze as he lowered their hands on the mattress, and caressed hers with his thumb.

He knew.

And he reciprocated. She put a hand on his cheek, and slowly brought her face closer to his. She was about to close her eyes and the gap between them when a finger on her lips interrupted her.

Chat Noir closed his eyes, letting a small smile tug at his lips. Took a deep breath. Exhaled.

Opened his eyes again and looked right into hers.

“What if…” he said nervously, almost as a murmur, a deep contrast to his amusement from earlier. “What if I told you that… that you could have both? In one person.”

Her eyes widened. She sat up suddenly and grabbed his face. Did he mean that—

“Chaton?!” she said surprised —questioning. Her eyes frantically searched his.

He took one of her hands and brought it to his mask. And slowly nodded.

Carefully, shaking, she removed the home-sewed mask from his face.

His eyes were closed, but it was the unmistakable face of Adrien that met her. And older Adrien, an Adrien who was still the same but also so different.

An Adrien who was Chat Noir, and had always been—an Adrien that she knew more than she could have possibly thought.

As he opened his eyes to look at her, she took both his hands and kissed them. She noticed that she was crying when she saw tears dropping on his ring. She didn’t care.

It suddenly hit her that this boy had had to fight against his own father—and that it was certainly why he hadn’t been ready to show himself before. What he just did now, finally revealing himself to her—this was huge.

But looking at his gaze, soft from her actions, and feeling his hand wiping her tears away, she decided that it was probably not something he wanted to discuss now. And she didn’t want to ruin their moment, their reveal, with pity and talks about his father: the very thing he had probably tried to avoid when he was still insecure about who he was under the mask.

She giggled through her tears. “You’re beautiful,” is what first made its way out of her mouth.

That made him laugh and oh god, she was making him cry too now.

“Take off my mask. Please,” she whispered, kissing his fingers once more.

He sat up next to her, are gently put a strand of her hair behind her ear.

Then, he did as she told—and gasped.

“You—you’re Marinette!”

She giggled again. “And you’re Adrien!”

“I was thinking about you the other day. I was wondering how you were doing and…” he trailed off.

“And now you know!”

“And now I know!” he grinned. “You’re wonderful… I missed you so much but… it also sounds weird to say that now, doesn’t it?”

“Well… we could still catch up, around a coffee and uh… is this date with both Chat Noir and Adrien still on the table?” she asked.

Was she being a bit too straight forward? Probably. But she had troubles to control her mouth right now.

“When will it not?” he breathed.

She squealed and wiggled on her spot, grabbing his face. But before she could come closer to him, she faltered and stopped, remembering his finger on her lips a few minutes before.

“Uh, can I kiss you this time?”

He chuckled, a soft blush gracing his cheeks—and kissed her in answer.

She immediately closed her eyes at the contact of his lips and kissed him back—slowly, deeply, tasting him as much as she could. He tilted his head to give her a better access, and she climbed on his laps to be more comfortable—and closer to him.

Marinette lost count of how many times they came back for each other, of how many times their lips met, or their tongues. She felt so happy and so good—so in love.

When they separated and looked at each other, shy and giddy smiles on their faces, she couldn’t help but drop another tender kiss on his cheek, and caressed it afterwards.

“Now I know what you found so funny earlier,” she told him.

“It’s hilarious, right? We were so dumb!”

“We still are,” she added.

“We definitely still are. I can’t believe I didn’t know that Marinette was in love with me in collège, wow.”

“Is in love with you,” she corrected, still caressing his cheeks. “Present tense.”

She would always remember the look on his face when she said it. He was in love with her too, there was no doubt about it.

Suddenly, she was hit with a realisation and looked at him in horror. “Wait a minute. That means… That I have only forty-one percent compatibility with Chat Noir?!”

Adrien burst out laughing. “My Laaaady, you can’t seriously believe these tests, right?”

“Well, no, but we still should have way more compatibility than forty-one percent. Who even has that with their super-hero partner?”

“Marinette,” he said, amused, “my Bugabisous…I don’t even have a hundred percent with myself. It would be hard to live in my own head.”

She blinked. “You’re right. That test is dumb. But how do we know if we’re the most compatible then?”

Adrien chuckled, and put his hands around her waist, bringing her closer to him. “Well, you’re the Guardian, I think you can make up the rules for that.”

She put her arms around his neck. “That’s true. Then I decide that we’re a hundred percent compatible.”

“A hundred percent, uh?”

Their foreheads were touching now.

“A hundred-and-one,” she whispered against his lips, and she kissed him.

[lupinlongbottom]

Shortie

Fred Weasley x Short!Reader

Summary: (Y/N) is short. Plain and simple. While she admits this to herself, she hates, more than anything, than the nickname a certain redhead has tagged her with.

Prompt: Can I request a Fred Weasley x Reader with a short reader? And Fred thinks she’s adorable and flirts with her all the time? - Anon

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: none

A/N: Yeah. I love Fred Weasley. I bet you do too, hm? Yeah you do!! Welcome to the club  we meet on every other Thursday

__

(Y/N) (L/N) loathed being called short. She was short, to their point, but it was always an awfully un-clever observation. No one ever thought to call her ‘bright’ or ‘pretty’, it was always ‘short’ or—

“Hey, shortie!” 

(Y/N) turned around, her books held tightly to her chest. It didn’t take a genius to know who’s voice it could’ve been, but she looked anyway, scowling.

“What do you want, Weasley?” She continued her previous steps, the flats of her feet slapping against the marble rhythmically.  

“Woah,” Fred said, holding his hands up, running to her side. “Such hostility, coming from such a small thing…”

(Y/N) pulled the books tighter into her chest, the covers reaching her chin. “What do you want?” She repeated, ignoring the redhead who was now matching her rather brisk pace.

“What? Can’t a guy try and flirt with the cutest little thing at school?” Fred said teasingly. (Y/N) could hardly tell if he was joking or not, a common theme from the Weasley brothers.

“Calling someone ‘shortie’ isn’t considered flirting,” (Y/N) huffed, feeling her fingers curl around the spines of her books, the tips tracing the musty covers. “Hardly would get you any points from anyone.”

“You see,” Fred clicked, pointing a finger. “I said ‘try’, didn’t say it was working,” he glanced up and down the girl quickly, grinning, “though, you’re talking to me, so something must’ve worked.”

“Do that with all the girls, do you? Flirt constantly to see if something sticks?” (Y/N) said, almost breaking a smile. A small tug at her lips peeked through the cracks, one that Fred noticed instantly, a warmth spreading quickly to his cheeks.

“No,” Fred said, shaking his head. “Just with you.”

“Right,” (Y/N) said, laughing genuinely. “Sure, Weasley,” she turned the corner, reaching her destination, her next class. “If you don’t mind, I actually have somewhere to be right now, so—”

“Funny,” Fred laughed, opening the classroom door. “Me too. Forgot we had Charms together, huh?”

She didn’t.

“Easy to forget,” (Y/N) said, pushing past Fred, hoping to reach her seat before Flitwick had their heads. “I focus entirely on the lecture, unlike somebody I know.”

“Hard to focus when the prettiest girl in school sits across the way from me,” Fred said, eyeing (Y/N) down.

“Oh sure,” (Y/N) scoffed, rolling her eyes, trying to ignore the creeping heat flowing across her face. “That’s your problem.”

“Though, it’s hard to see you behind your stack of books. I reckon you could use one of them to boost yourself up, it’d be easier to spot you—”

(Y/N) smacked his arm, hard, before fleeing to her assigned seat. She held back a scoff, not letting Fred get the better of her and her reactions. Pulling the various textbooks from her bag, (Y/N) scooted them slightly more to the left for no reason in particular.

__

Studying was a chore, something that (Y/N) loathed to do, but understood it’s importance in her academic life and future. As far as libraries go, the one at Hogwarts wasn’t the worst one she’d been in. Surely the temptation of practically anything and everything one would or could possibly know about the magical community and world around them was just at their fingertips, pages away from their young minds. However, instead of the fun material she could be reading, she was stuck scribbling lines from a textbook about various charms she’d never need to use.

“Honestly, making legs grow on teacups? How absurd…” (Y/N) mumbled to herself, scribbling the incantation down in a bolder ink, underlining it lightly.

“Reckon you could try it on yourself,” A voice said, pulling up into the chair next to her. “Maybe you’ll grow a bit, hm?” 

“Weasley,” (Y/N) clicked, setting her quill down harshly. “I’m trying to study, can’t you go bother some other poor soul? Throw a dungbomb around or whatever you and your brother get up to?”

“Nah, we ran out of dungbombs a bit back,” Fred said, picking at his fingernails, examining them closely. “We planted some frog spawn soap in the bathroom near here, but that’s going to take a while to kick in,” He glanced at the roll of parchment beneath (Y/N)’s hand, covering her writing. “What? Don’t want me to cheat off of you?”  

“Exactly,” (Y/N) hummed, placing another hand atop her words. “You haven’t done the assignment yet, so I’m not going to let you read mine.”

“Smart,” Fred said, nodding his head. “Really smart.”

“Thank you?” (Y/N) said, almost unsure. 

“Tell me, shortie,” Fred said, leaning in. “While you’re here hiding your work, do you need me to grab any books off the top shelf? I have long arms, you know…”

“Nope,” (Y/N) said warmly, her voice sickeningly sweet. “I’ve got all I need, thanks.”

“You sure?” He asked again, cracking his signature grin, his eyebrow pointed. “You sure you don’t need Charmingly Charming Charms by Gretchen Hopstock?” He pulled a red book from behind his back. “I know that Georgie and I needed to look at it when we were finishing our assignment…”

“You did the assignment? You’re bluffing!” (Y/N) said, bewildered and confused at the recent discovery. “There’s no way!”

“Yeah,” Fred laughed. “No way you’re reaching that book without my help,” he laughed again, the voice as smooth as honey, “it belongs on the sixth shelf, second case in. Seeing as you can barely reach the fifth shelf without your tiptoes—”

“Have you been watching me?”

“Hard not to,” Fred said, grinning. “It’s rather cute, watching you struggle just a bit. Of course, just say the word and I’ll leave the book here instead of putting it back.”

“I’m good,” (Y/N) said, shooting back an equally large grin, hoping the mockery would hit him in the face and let him leave. “But thanks!” 

Fred shrugged, turning quickly on his heels. He took five steps into the bookcase, eyes quickly scanning across the various covers, hoping to find the empty spot he had pulled the book from previously. With extra care, he slid the book back into its home, turning back to grin at (Y/N).

“I didn’t need it, anyway.”

“We’ll see, shortie,” Fred said, shoving his hands back into his pockets. “Though, tell me,” Fred said, pointing to (Y/N)’s hands, still covering her parchment. “You’ve let that ink dry before smacking your hand on your writing, right?”

(Y/N) froze.

“Nah,” Fred laughed, waving his hand. “I’m sure it’s fine, you’re a bright witch, there’s no way that you would’ve done that,” he laughed again, turning back to his table of friends, neatly settled on the other side of the library. “No way.”

(Y/N) waited a few beats before prying her fingers off the paper, sure enough, the ink wasn’t done drying when she placed her skin atop of it. A puddling of what could’ve been words flowed along her skin, thankfully her parchment was still somewhat legible. She hesitated for a moment, debating on packing up her things and leaving entirely, or excusing herself for a moment to wash her hands. She chose the latter. 

“Stupid Fred, stupid ‘shortie’, stupid book…” (Y/N) mumbled to herself, entering the girls lavatory quickly. The sooner she cleaned her stained hands, the sooner she could finish her assignment and the sooner she could ignore Fred Weasley. (Y/N) turned on the tap, allowing the hot water to cover her hands, a good majority of the black ink flowing directly into the water. 

“Honestly,” (Y/N) said, grabbing the bar of soap, scrubbing vigorously. “What is wrong with me? He’s just some stupid boy…” She glanced up at her reflection, the pink in her cheeks practically glowing. “A stupid boy with a stupid smile…” Her face softened, recalling the way he grinned at her, a face he only seemed to direct at her and her alone, she had noticed. She never stared too long, honest, but she wasn’t dumb. Maybe he did truly like her. Maybe she liked him. Maybe.

The moment, however, ended quickly, as (Y/N) felt the soap beneath her move slightly. She looked down, only to find tadpoles swimming in sink and wriggling between her fingers.

Her scream rang throughout the castle.

__

The orange autumn day basked over the courtyard, the gaggles of cliques and friends finally were returning from Hogsmeade that fateful Saturday. (Y/N) had spent more than she’d like to admit at Honeydukes, her friends egging her to buy ‘just one more’ chocolate frog. Though, to their point, having a few extras around wouldn’t have been the worst idea.

(Y/N) settled herself down next to the fountain, allowing herself to get her recommended fifteen minutes of solitude she desperately needed. The burbling of the water and the idle chatter of students around her was calming, a white noise to her loud thoughts.

“Shortie!” Fred called from across the courtyard, leaving George behind. The other twin looked almost shocked, but only for a moment, his gaze falling upon the girl at the base of the fountain. He shrugged and waltzed away, knowing very well that Fred would catch up later.

“Fred,” (Y/N) said, not opening her eyes. She continued to take in deep breaths, focusing harder on the fountain behind her. “What is it?”

“Woah,” Fred said, almost taken aback. “Not ‘Weasley’? We’re on a first-name basis now?” 

“Could you try and be quiet?” (Y/N) said, taking in another deep breath. “I’m trying to enjoy a few moments of silence,” she opened an eye, glancing at Fred, “I know how hard silence is for you.”

“Please,” Fred scoffed, falling down next to (Y/N), hands folded in his lap. “I can be silent.”

“Prove it,” (Y/N) said, closing her eyes again, taking a deep breath.

“Fine,” Fred said, staring straight ahead, trying to prove his point. The sounds of the fountain were calming, he noticed. Frankly, he wanted to make fun of the spot (Y/N) had chosen, but after thinking about it for a few moments, he understood.

Fred couldn’t help but glance over to the girl on his right, noting how even seated next to one another, their height difference rang true. He never sat next to her, not this close, she never gave him the chance. His eyes floated over to the bag at her side, a Honeydukes one, to be exact. Without a second thought, as silently as he could, he pulled the bag onto his lap. Thankfully, (Y/N) hadn’t heard. Fingering through the bag, he noted the various chocolate frogs, a box of fudge flies and a package of jelly slugs. All favorites of hers.

“Of course…” Fred laughed quietly, examining the bag a little deeper. A smaller bag reached his grasp, the packaging seeming familiar. He had seen these bags plenty of times before, in fact, George had been carrying one on their way back from Hogsmeade.

“What’re you doing?” (Y/N) said, careful not to shout, to draw more attention to herself. She noticed the bag in Fred’s lap after he had stayed quiet for a bit too long, a feat she clearly thought was a prank. She reached forward. “Gimme that!”

“Nope,” Fred said, standing up quickly, bag still in his grasp. “Why do you have a Zonko’s bag in here? I don’t think they have any products that’ll help you grow—”

“Will you quit it!?” (Y/N) finally shouted, rising to her feet. Fred froze, just for a moment. “Honestly! It’s all ‘shortie’ this and ‘shortie’ that! Could you cut it out for just—cut it out for a moment?!”

“(Y/N), I—”

“Yeah?” (Y/N) spat, ripping the bag from Fred’s grip, clutching it close to her side. “Gonna ask me to speak up because I’m so far away from you? You, all the way up there and me, so terribly close to the ground, might as well be dirt—”

“(Y/N) I’m sorry,” Fred said, almost sternly. Whatever grin he had on his face earlier surely dissipated. “I didn’t think that, that nickname bothered you so much, had you told me I would’ve—”

“Would’ve stopped? Yeah right. Biggest prankster in the whole school stopping something because someone asked nicely?”

“I would’ve stopped because you asked me,” Fred said, making his word choice clear. “Honest.”

“I don’t believe it,” (Y/N) said.

“Why do you think I call you shortie to begin with? Has it ever crossed your mind that I could’ve chosen anything else in the English—or perhaps French—language to call you?” Fred asked, not expecting a reply. “I mean, yeah, obviously you’re short—”

“You call people loads of other things, why not one of those?”

“What? Do you mean prat or git?” Fred laughed. “I could never think about calling you that, are you being serious?”

“What’s so hard to believe? You call everyone else things like that!” 

“Yeah? Well I don’t fancy everyone else, do I?”

“Fancy?” (Y/N) said, fighting back a laugh. “That’s how you treat someone you fancy? It’s so elementary, Fred. Would you like to pull on my hair to really drive your message home?”

“Oh shut it,” Fred said, his voice low, cheeks growing red. “I’m not good at things like this… affection, flirting…”

“You? Not good at flirting?” (Y/N) said, letting herself laugh. “Now that’s funny.”

“How so?”

“Please, half of the words that come out of your mouth make me want to crawl as far as I can in my jumper, hide from the embarrassment,” (Y/N) admitted, feeling a bit honest. “From what I’ve heard from the other girls in our year, you seem to have that effect on women.”

“Really?” Fred smiled. “I make you all flustered?”

“Y-you make other girls flustered, too!” (Y/N) said rather quickly. “Don’t go and twist my words.”

“Ah,” Fred clicked, rocking on his feet. “But you admit it, I make you flustered.”

“P-perhaps,” (Y/N) said, the back of her neck growing hot to the touch, the heat rising to her ears. “Perhaps a bit, yes.”

“Then, that’s all that matters, hm?” Fred said, smiling.

“What? Do you get some sort of pleasure of getting me flustered?” (Y/N) said, trying to keep a straight face.

“Of course I do,” Fred laughed. “Doesn’t every guy want to see the girl they like get all hot and bothered, especially by their own words and smirks?”

“I suppose,” (Y/N) said, nodding. “But, why me? Of call the girls you could possibly fancy, I’m the one you’ve gone after?”

“You challenge me, (Y/N),” Fred shrugged. “I like the chase, what can I say?” He let out another laugh, the sound ringing throughout the courtyard. “Besides, you’re rather pretty and have got the cutest laugh—little snorts and all—”

“I do not snort!” (Y/N) exclaimed. “I just—my laugh isn’t—I don’t… snort…”

“Awh,” Fred took a step closer, placing his hand hesitantly on (Y/N)’s shoulder. “S’all right, (Y/N), I think it’s cute. I think you’re cute.”

“Shut it…” (Y/N) said, looking away. After all that talk of getting flustered around Fred, why was her own body betraying her so poorly? Surely Fred could see the pink in her cheeks, there was no point in trying to hide it. “I think you’re cute too…” she mumbled, the words barely passing her lips.

“What was that? I didn’t quite catch that?” Fred said, grinning.

“I said I think you’re cute too,” (Y/N) repeated, her voice louder. “There, happy?”

“Elated,” Fred said, his smile growing softer. “Since you think I’m terribly attractive—”

“That’s not what I said—”

“And since I think you’re terribly adorable, what do you say to us going on a date? Say… next weekend, Hogsmeade? You, me, a couple of butterbeers against the world?”

“I’d like that,” (Y/N) said. “I’d like that quite a bit, actually.”

“Wicked,” Fred said, removing his hand from (Y/N)’s shoulder, knowing if he didn’t, he’d probably do something stupid, something she’d slap him silly for even trying. “Now that we’re on the same page, tell me (Y/N)…” he slanted his eyes, “what did you purchase from Zonko’s? Doesn’t seem like your type of store.”

“I…” (Y/N) chose her words carefully, feeling the bag at her side grow almost heavy. “I bought some hiccoughing sweets… to… give to you…”

“You… were going to try and prank me?” Fred said, his finger pointed at his chest. “A woman after my own heart! Oh, (Y/N), you don’t know how attractive that is.”

“I didn’t buy them to seduce you, Weasley,” (Y/N) laughed. “I bought them for… revenge purposes only.”

“Revenge? For the shortie thing? That seems a bit much,” Fred said, crossing his arms. “Don’t you think?”

“Oh no,” (Y/N) said, waving her hand. “The shortie thing doesn’t bother me nearly that bad,” Fred gave her a look, “what? Can’t a girl apologize? Regardless, it wasn’t because of that.”

“Alright, shortie,” Fred said, using the nickname again, dipping a toe in the water. (Y/N) smiled, just a bit. “Then what could you possibly need to get revenge for?”

“Frog spawn soap, women’s lavatory near the library.”

“Holy shit,” Fred said, suppressing a laugh. “That was you? Your scream was so hilarious!”

“I went to go wash the ink off my hands and—”

“So you did get ink on your hands,” Fred said, leaning closer. “I knew it.”

“Your soap,” (Y/N) said, ignoring Fred’s teasing. “Probably will give me nightmares about hand washing for the rest of my life… I figured a few prank-sweets would compensate it fairly.”

“Well played,” Fred said, nodding. “It’s a good plan, though I’d re-think it now that I know all about your devious little scheme, wouldn’t you agree? Try something that’ll really grind my gears, hm?”

“Grind your gears?”

“Yeah, the key to a good revenge, or revenge prank is the one that while the other isn’t expecting, also annoys—”

Without a second thought, (Y/N) leaned upwards, reaching as far as her toes could get her. She grabbed Fred’s face, placing a soft peck to the space near his lips, dangerously close, but not quite touching. She fell back onto the flats of her feet, grinning widely at the now-speechless Weasley in front of her.

“One that the other isn’t expecting? I’ll have to remember that,” (Y/N) said, taking a few steps away from Fred, ready to leave the courtyard. “What? Kneazle have your tongue?”

“I just…” Fred sputtered, trying to find the words. Of all the things he had expected from (Y/N), teasing him to that caliber was not at the top of his list. “I just, didn’t expect you to reach that high,” he forced a laugh, trying to cover up his embarrassment, “shortie.”

(Y/N) smiled softly at the boy, turning her heels to leave. The sound of Fred’s soft laughter met her ears, him surely doing a little jig, something she knew she would see if she turned around, but (Y/N) let him have his moment. Turns out, she didn’t hate that nickname after all. More specifically, she didn’t hate the boy it came from, not one bit.

__

General Tag List: @maralisa124 / @leighxlover / @hey-its-me-rai / @missihart23 / @biatheintrovert / @luna-xxxxx / @chocolaterumble / @why-am-i-sad-and-sleepy / @steve-thotgers / @greeneyedthief / @kitkatkl / @thelightsideoflife / @thataudreydork / @badgirlsdeaddreams

Fred Weasley Tag List: @carolinesbookworld / @flyawayjulianna

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[iwritefanfictionnottragedies]

21 Questions (George Weasley x Reader)

First Year: The year in which she was extraordinarily lonely, by no fault of her own. Second Year: The year in which it was imperative that she lay low, for apparent fear of... interacting? Third Year: The year in which, unwittingly, she made a friend. Forth Year: The year in which she became his accomplice in mischief, much to her chagrin. Fifth Year: The year in which he became her ally in conflict, despite her being a cantankerous cow. Sixth Year: The year in which she felt inexplicably... sweaty, to be honest. Seventh Year: The year of questions, some of which were superfluous and some of which were very much consequential. FLUFFY STORY UNDER THE CUT

First Year: The year in which she was extraordinarily lonely, by no fault of her own.

Within 24 hours of her Hogwarts Acceptance letter being delivered her parents had packed their bags and disappeared, as they were muggles who were fearful of what they could not understand. They left her with her belongings, as well as €1,000 and, well, trauma. She was a witch, she was 11 years old, and she was alone. So, alone she went to Diagon Alley to purchase her school supplies. Alone she patiently waited for September 1st. Alone she boarded the Hogwarts Express. Alone, she had decided, was okay.

Months passed by, and even the most observant eye would say that she was thriving. She excelled in her studies, and always wore a smile when speaking with her classmates. She was quiet, but friendly. However, while she was technically no longer alone, a new problem had arisen: she was still lonely. Second Year: The year in which it was imperative that she lay low, for apparent fear of... interacting?

Third Year: The year in which, unwittingly, she made a friend.

Sitting on the floor of the empty Gryffindor common room, she examined her textbooks, which she had laid out in front of the fireplace. In the dim moonlight and the glow of the fireplace, she stared at their cracked spines and ripped covers. Many of them were missing pages in key chapters, particularly her Charms book. "Epoximise" she whispered, her wand pointed at her Potions textbook. A thin coat of adhesive appeared on the book cover, and she laid a page from the Daily Prophet atop it to keep the book from falling apart any further. She smiled at her handiwork before moving on to the Transfiguration textbook. "Epoximise" she whispered again. As the sticky adhesive appeared on the cover of the book, she heard footsteps behind her, which made her jump.

"Easy there, no need to be jumpy." said the lanky ginger boy, "Just a fellow late-night trouble maker here." She smiled at the boy, who she recognized to be one of the Weasley twins. She looked down at the floor, remembering her books. Hurriedly she began to gather them, but the boy sat next to her and said "Don't be embarrassed! I've done that tons of times to my books." She looked at him quizzically and asked "You have? And here I thought I was being creative!" He laughed and said "Oh, it's not creativity. It's poor people ingenuity, I know it when I see it." She let out a laugh, possibly the first laugh to leave her lips in a year. It felt delightful.

"I must apologize," she said, "I know that we've met before, of course, but I can't remember if you are Fred or George." He flipped his hands through the pages of one of the books on the floor and he smiled. "Yes, of course we've met! I'm George," he said, "it's a million times easier to tell us apart when you get to know us really." She nodded, and began to pick up her books to retreat to her dorm. "Here, let me help you!" said George as he reached for her Transfiguration book. "No, wait!" she yelled, and as she attempted to swat his hand away her hand landed atop the book right next to his. "What's wrong?" he asked, looking at her with concern. She rolled her eyes and said "George, we're glued together by my book." He laughed loudly, and she shushed him. "Well then, just undo the charm." he suggested. She gave a sheepish smile and said "Mate, you'll never guess what pages are missing from my Charms textbook..."

They laughed together at the ridiculousness of their situation. "Well," she said, "I'd normally say that we should go see Madame Pomfrey, but obviously she'd know that we were out of the dorms past curfew." George replied, "I guess we'll have to sit here and chat until the morning. It's okay though. I think we'll be best friends by sunrise, if you ask me."

Forth Year: The year in which she became his accomplice in mischief, much to her chagrin.

The courtyard was buzzing with life as many students chose to spend their Saturday enjoying the brisk Autumn air. Sitting on the ground against a tree, she rubbed her temples out of frustration. "I almost made it through an entire year of friendship without getting roped into your... shenanigans. I was so close!" she huffed. "Well," George said, "Close only counts in horseshoes and lemonade." She snorted, "Hand grenades." Fred noticeably perked up at the mention of explosives, but she cut his thought process short. "The saying is horseshoes and hand gren--" she paused, "You know what? Yep. It's lemonade. Now, tell me what you need my assistance with, so that I can go back to... not assisting you." The twins laughed. "We'll make it brief," said Fred, "but I can't promise that you won't be addicting to our 'shenanigans' by the end of the evening. So, here's where we need you..."

By the end of the year she had been given detention on 9 occasions for her participation in their hijinks.

Fifth Year: The year in which he became her ally in conflict, despite her being a cantankerous cow.

"LET GO OF ME," she shouted as she strained against George's grip, "I'M GOING TO BREAK HER FUCKING LEG, AND I'LL BREAK YOURS TOO IF YOU DON'T LET ME GO." George continued to hold her back even as she violently pushed and pulled against him, attempting to break free so that she could reach Alicia Spinnet. Across the common room, Alicia simply smiled as she stood behind Fred. "I don't know what her problem is." Alicia said feigning innocence, "I was only being honest with her, as a friend, and the next thing I know she is attacking me!" She let out a loud, sarcastic laugh, and lunged toward Alicia. George tightened his grip on her and said. "ALRIGHT, you cantankerous cow! Tell me your side of the story!" She shot him an angry glare.

They stepped away to the corner of the room. George gave her a very serious look but hesitantly nodded so that she'd begin talking. "George, she was talking shit." she said. George gave an exasperated sigh and asked, "Enough for you to want to break her legs?" She inhaled deeply, gathering her thoughts. "George," she said, "she was talking about my parents. She was taking the piss about me being abandoned. That's not okay. I'm not okay." Her eyes met his, and he saw the tears forming in her eyes. "Okay," he said, anger burning through him, "let's do this."

George turned towards Alicia, fire in his eyes, and cracked his knuckles. She gasped and said "You wouldn't hit a girl!" George laughed and drew his wand and said, "No, I wouldn't hit a girl. My mum raised me better than that! I'll curse a girl though." Her eyes grew wide as he waved his wand in her direction. "Mimblewimble," he cast the tongue-tying curse on her, "Hopefully this will teach you to keep my best friend's name out of your mouth."

When the dust settled, she nudged George's arm and asked, "Did you really call me a cantankerous cow?" He laughed and said, "I stand by what I said, honestly. But you're my cantankerous cow, so it's fine."

Sixth Year: The year in which she felt inexplicably... sweaty, to be honest.

In the early hours of the morning, she was awakened by Hermione. She grumbled and rolled over, "Please Hermione, just a few more minutes." Hermione laughed and said "Listen, I'm already being generous. You've received a much more pleasant wake up call than Ron and Harry did. If you get up right now, and dress at lightning speed, you'll have time for a cup of coffee before we leave for the Quidditch Cup." She rolled out of bed and traversed the dim hallways and steep stairs of the Burrow. She entered the kitchen to find that George was already working on coffee. She took a look at him, noting that his hair was tousled in various directions from a poor nights' sleep. He was still wearing what he'd slept in, a maroon pair of pajama pants. He had no shirt on, a detail impossible for her to ignore. As much effort as she made, she couldn't take her eyes off of him.

"SHITE!" George yelped, burning his hand on the coffee pot and breaking her trance. "Need any help?" she asked. He looked up and his exhausted eyes met hers, and he smiled. "Of course I do," he said, "can you grab two mugs?" She nodded and crossed the room, avoiding making eye contact with him and his bare chest as she squeezed past him in the narrow path between the sink and the kitchen island. She laughed at herself as she grabbed the coffee mugs. 'Merlin, woman. It's just George, nothing you haven't seen before.'

She crossed the room again, but this time as she attempted to squeeze past him he stopped her in the narrow space. She was caught between the countertop and George, and her heart began to race. His face was close to hers, and he looked her in the eye with a serious look of determination. "So," he said, "How are you feeling about this?" She audibly gulped and broke eye contact to look down at this toned chest again. "I- um, I don't know how I feel about this," she said, "I feel... sweaty, to be honest. Is it hot in here?" George laughed loudly and grabbed the coffee mugs out of her hands, moving away from her to pour coffee. "I wasn't talking about our proximity," he said shaking his head, "I was asking how you were feeling about tonight's quidditch match." The two burst out in laughter, the kind of laughter that makes your belly ache and tears gather in your eyes.

When they settled down, he slid her the cup of coffee. "Have you been staring at my chest?" He asked, a curious and entertained tone in his voice. "Obviously," she said with a nervous chuckle. "It's okay," he said, "to be fair, sometimes I stare at your chest too." He peered down at her cleavage and then winked at her flirtatiously, and she playfully punched him in the arm. However, she felt the blood rush to her face, and it was then that she knew that she was in trouble.

Seventh Year: The year of questions, some of which were superfluous and some of which were very much consequential.

She and George crawled out of the 3rd floor window of the Burrow, laughing she clumsily held onto him for dear life. It was the first day of Summer break before their seventh year, and they were thrilled that Molly had invited her to stay with them until their term began. At George's suggestion, they laid next to each other, precariously perched on the rooftop, to watch the sunset. Their laughter died down as they watched the pink sky turn orange. "How exactly do people watch the sunset?" she asked, "What do we talk about? Do we just sit in silence?" He let out a low chuckle and said, "21 Questions, how about that?" She raised an eyebrow and replied, "I suppose that works. You go first." They both stared up at the sky, and George sifted through his brain for a good question. "Where do you want to be in 10 years?" he asked. Her eyes went wide. "Oh, serious questions." she said, "I suppose I want to be teaching by then. Potions, obviously. Married, might eve have a bun in the proverbial oven. My turn now! What's the luckiest thing that's ever happened to you?" He said "Easy. Meeting you." "That's a copout." she protested. "No it's not. My turn now." he said, "If you could commit one crime without getting caught, what would you do?" Her heart skipped a beat, but she was quick to reply with "I'd steal your heart. My turn. Who do-" "WAIT, do you hear sirens?" he interrupted, "I think they're coming for you." She rolled her eyes. "Shut up," she said, "Who do you look up to the most?" With a seriousness in his voice, George replied "You."

There was a silence that followed, but her thoughts filled that silence with a million questions. Before any of those questions could make the journey from her brain to her mouth, George's hand found hers and held it gently. Her heart began to race. "You're such a git," she said, " You're just trying to make me flustered. It's your turn, as your question." He didn't laugh. "Do you ever think about me?" he asked, "I mean, about us. Together?" She gave his hand a squeeze. "Honestly?" she asked. "Honestly."

"I think about it all the time." she said quietly.

He released her hand, and her heart dropped. Then he rolled onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow. He body was close to hers, and his eyes were starting intently at her. Her eyes were still on the sky, too nervous to look at him. "It's your turn." His voice was barely above a whisper. "How do you know if you've fallen for someone?" Without hesitation he said, "When you want to share the world with them."

Finally she met his gaze as she rolled onto her side and propped herself up on her elbow, matching his position. With their faces only inches apart, his eyes searched hers looking for a sign that she understood the meaning in his words. Her eyes glanced down from his eyes to his lips, and then back again. "It's your turn, George." He moved closer, his breath tickling her lips as he spoke. "Can I kiss you?" She smirked and whispered back, "I'd be quite confused if you didn't."

Gently, he leaned in and quickly brushed his lips against hers. She rolled onto her back, pulling him on top of her. "Kiss me again" she said. And so, he did. One of his hands found it's way to her waist, and her hands found their way to his hair. They were a tangle of limps and lips and desire, but it was cut short by one final burning question. "My turn," said George, "is cereal a soup?"

The pair burst into laughter, and he rolled himself onto his back and laid next to her. As she laughed, she couldn't help but think to herself that perhaps this was the start of something bigger than either of them could have anticipated. However, even if it wasn't, she knew that this would be a Summer to remember.

[urlocalnctstan]

The Beauty And The Beast

Epoch 1

Autumn was here. The surroundings that were once green were now adorned in hues of orange and brown. Jaehyun flipped through the book he was currently reading, who's title went by 'Summerhill', subconsciously reminding himself to read it again as he finished it again for the hundredth time, to be precise, 113th. He sipped on his black tea as his eyes drifted towards the wooden window, observing the new change in nature. Neither seasons nor weather mattered to him, at the end of the day it would only be him all alone after all. His eyes lingered for a moment on the orange leaves until he felt the need to get up, debating silently on what library he should visit next, preferably somewhere desolate.

He despised human interaction; the hunger at times just kicks in when he can hardly control himself to stay composed. Things were not supposed to be this way, his whole family, his brothers would have been here if it were not for that dreadful malicious night. He passed through his library, the vintage touch of the best designers very prominent. The walls were transformed into wooden shelves, stained and burnished in textures of a brown oak tree. It was no surprise the whole library was filled with books, the shelves divided into 10 for all the brothers. Jaehyun did not reside on a specific genre, he loved to surf around all the categories, whilst the interests of others ranged from fantasies to science fiction. He liked the smell of the library, the odd scent of paper and wood subtly brought him comfort, for it would stage an illusion for him, making him feel that he was not the only one here. Living all alone for over 50 years has indeed made him more anti-social, his demeanor a big contrast to the one he had before all the tragedy occurred.

You on the other hand stayed still, cursing yourself for not arranging the books, and it was only seconds before the lady would recognize your negligence. You prayed, desperately clutched your hands, and silently kept praying, it was your only job and you cannot afford to lose it. As if in a response to your prayers, a man, probably in his mid-twenties entered the worn-out shabby premises, catching you off guard because literally, no one visits this rotten library. However, as he came closer, you felt your breath hitch as you took a nervous gulp; that man was breathtaking. His brown coat accentuated his broad build, the black hat perfectly resting on his black hair.

"I came to return this book," he scrunched his nose, it was enough for you to understand his distaste, slightly feeling embarrassed since you were the one who suggested it. Your manager lady similarly caught on the young man's comprehensible expression, shooting me a warning look that it could be my last chance to save my job. For a shitty library, it surprisingly paid you well.

"I am extremely sorry for my negligence sir, how about this, I'll bring you the newest and most popular books every week?" You anxiously fidgeted as you brought out the library logbook, scribbling down the return.

"I-uh...that would be very courteous of you. Thank you..." he eyes trailed on your tag, "Ms.Y/N."

"Thank you thank you thank you so much, young man, you're a lifesaver." You grabbed his hands, shaking them furiously in gratitude. His hands were oddly cold, too cold actually.

Jaehyun felt weird, it had been years since he had faced any human interaction. He quickly withdrew his hands, his now pink ears hidden by his black. Nonetheless, he was kind of grateful he would not have to face 2 hours long entourage to the library.

"I was about to lose my only regular customer, all because of your stupid choice," the lady scoffed, scrutinizing your every movement whilst you were cleaning the shelves. He was a regular but I never met him. "I shouldn't have fired the other one listening to you." She flashed you one last alarming look before storming out of the place. You let out all breathe that you had been holding while she was here, thanking heavens for not screwing up your life. While you held the book that read 'Summerhill', you could not help but let your mind wander to the only encounter you had today, apart from your manager lady's wrath. Why is it that I had failed to meet this Greek God in the past three months I’ve been working? You thought to yourself, organizing the suggestion shelf, the culprit which caused the book to land upon the hands of the Greek God, namely Jaehyun. With a loud audible huff, you decided it would be better to just organize the whole suggestion shelf, quietly reminding yourself to not be so biased on the books you chose just because the author was your favorite.

It was almost evenfall when Jaehyun reached back abode, the dilapidated exterior did no justice to its actual architectural essence, and the touches of the Victorian designs camouflaged by the overgrown bushes, the oak trees stood menacingly in the rear. At a glance, anyone would have thought it was a creepily haunted house, home to all the demonic supernatural things that could come to one’s mind. Jaehyun internally cringed for a brief moment, even after all these years, his laziness in keeping his home neat was still something he had to work on. Jaehyun felt shivers running down his spine as he thought how badly Taeyong would have reacted if he were to sight this view.

He felt his still heart tug, the probable scenarios of his brothers painting themselves in the back of his mind, how ecstatic and chaotically pleasant it would have been with them by his side, one and united again. For the first time that year, he went to the forbidden chamber in the mansion.

The room resided in the right west wing on the second floor of the villa. The long corridor that leads to the room barely had any light, the large velvet curtains were draped against the huge windows. With heavy steps he climbed up the wooden stairs, only the sounds of the woods creaking and his heavy breathing being audible. He wanted to retreat as he stood in front of the door, the wood had become too worn-out, the insects starting to make it their forever habitat. Jaehyun was unsure of the overwhelming emotions he was facing; he was hurt, scared but most importantly guilty. The fact that his brothers were in this state, all because of him, this guilt eats him up every day. He pulled the handle, the bronze material felt cold against his already cold pale skin. As he stepped inside, he was welcomed by all his brothers, standing still and lifeless. Jaehyun was cursed with loneliness for 51 years, all because he was too prideful and selfish to think of anyone else but himself. His brothers might have been the only exception; he treasured all of them with all of his heart. But he remained cold to the others, as he would call them 'outsiders'. At times when he would go out with his brothers, he would cross people suffering in cold or starvation, but never once did he have the heart to aid them with their trivial surviving necessities. Clouded in his superiority, he never claimed any of the girls he had been with, treated them as either one-night-stands or a way of passing his boring time.

One winter night, the heavens decided to test his limits of such obnoxious egoistic nature. A highly respected priestess roaming around the jungle seemed to have lost her way back, and thus decided she might just rest the night. She was always in her house, training to be more and more powerful until she became one. Completely inexperienced of human nature, her curiosity lead her to explore what it was like to live normally for a day, eventually leading to an aristocratic family's residence, the NEO Residence. They were the most powerful families of the 1800s, their fame and wealth being no new news to anyone. But she still decided to see if their wealth and fame were equivalent to their kindness. The priestess disguised herself in the clothing of a pregnant woman, her dress completely soiled and ragged; making her seem pitiful and powerless. She chanted something eerily magical, instantly transforming the calm snowfall into a vicious snowstorm.

Back at the NEO residents, the young men seemed to get baffled at the sudden change of demeanor of the weather. Johnny was the first to notice, keeping aside the book he was previously reading as he went over to the large windows of their house, the wood felt cold and beads of ice were already starting to form on the contrary side of the window glass.

“Taeil, Taeyong, what just happened?” He motioned the other two towards the window he stood in front, both failing to grasp the situation.

“Maybe it’s just an unprecedented snowstorm; don’t worry brother it’ll die soon.” He said despite feeling a bit uneasy for some reason. Neither Taeil nor Johnny could avoid their anxiousness; they felt something but could not quite comprehend the reason behind it. Similarly, the others started to take notice of the situation as well; Doyoung sprinting off to get Mark and Haechan from their rooms whilst Yuta stayed beside Jungwoo in case if he had a panic attack. But one seems to remain just as unbothered and lofty prideful as usual, Jaehyun. Winwin ushered Taeyong where Jaehyun was sitting, annoyed by his way too relaxed composure. Taeyong just nodded, as if he was telling Winwin that he would talk to Jaehyun for being like this yet again; at that point, it had become something very common for him.

“I don’t feel good about this,” Yuta sighed, rubbing the temples of his forehead.

“Neither do we brother,” Taeil said as he looked at Johnny, their worried glances meeting each other before the latter went over towards the window again.

“It is showing no signs of stopping anytime soon.” Johnny inspected before pulling over the curtains; an attempt to calm themselves down by concealing the ruckus occurring outside.

“Aren’t you all tiring out yourselves a bit too much?” Jaehyun got up from his seat, swirling the red wine gracefully in the expensive sherry glass he was holding. “Come on, brothers, it is just a snowstorm. Nothing can ever happen to us.”

“Jaehyun, can you for once stop being so obnoxious and think rationally? Do you really think it’s just a normal storm going on out there?” Winwin exclaimed, his face filled with rage.

“Not my problem, ya’ll go ahead tire yourselves out.” Jaehyun pursed his lips before returning to his seat, filling up his empty glass yet again.

Just then, they heard soft knocks coming from the main door of their house, followed by pleas for help. Taeyong rushed to the door, quickly opening as he was welcomed by the whirl of the snowstorm and a young poor pregnant lady. He quickly brought her inside before calling over Johnny and Yuta to shut the door, the force of the storm was a bit too much.

“I can’t find my way back to my house, please, let me stay for just one night.” the lady pleaded, barely holding herself up.

“Sure, no problem. We’ll ma-”

“No.” Jaehyun abruptly cut off Taeyong, staring at his intently at the lady. “You don’t have the right to, look at yourself,” Jaehyun scoffed as he stood up. “Do you really think you’re worth enough to stay here? Really?”

“Jaehyun stop it! Enough already!” Taeyong shouted, his loud voice echoing throughout the whole house. “For fuck’s sake, she’s pregnant, stop it.”

“Don’t try voicing out your opinions on me Taeyong.” Jaehyun now shifted his gaze towards his older brother, who was clearly outraged by his imprudence “Pregnant? It makes me not let her stay, even more, at least she’ll give birth to a normal human, unlike us.” He scoffed. “Or she is just gonna leave her child alone, just like our mother did.

“Stop it Jaehyun, you’re crossing it,” Taeil said calmly, contrasting his fuming self.

“Why big brother? Finally, feeling sorry for your girlfriend? Should have thought before he fed on her.”

“ENOUGH!” the lady yelled, her voice changing to her original. “My, my. My instincts were indeed right about you.” She chuckled as she looked directly towards Jaehyun, her green eyes glowing menacingly. The storm outside seemed to have shifted inside now, a tornado of green wind and sparkling dust surrounding the lady, the middle glowing with such tremendous light that the men had to cover their eyes in fear that they will go blind. As the tornado stopped, their faces went pale, they knew who she was.

“High Priestess Valery..” Haechan’s eyes widened in realization. The priestess smiled, clearly knowing the effect of authority she had on them

“Jaehyun it is huh?” She walked further towards him, whilst he still stood high despite the unsettling feeling he was then starting to feel in his half functioning heart. “You really think of yourself this high? No wonder even the headquarters nicknamed you imbecile.”

“We apologize for his gaffe, high priestess.” Taeyong knelt, the others following him.

Jaehyun felt his throat form a lump, he could not voice out an apology as he knelt for forgiveness. Disrespecting, that too the high priestess of the clan was a great omission; an act equivalent to committing high treason. Jaehyun knew he was doomed, he felt sicker and sicker as he thought about what could possibly happen next.

“I was actually looking forward to you know, rectify your spoiled little brother, but it seems to me that it is quite a handful of work.” She remarked, her bracelet with various initials glowing.

“We promise, we’ll discipline him more, high priestess.” Taeil pleaded. But Valery seemed to ignore all of their pleas.

“He needs to learn it by himself,” She said. “But you all are not quite the innocents as well.” Valery did something with her hands, fumes of lilac, and blue clouding around her fingers. A loud sound erupted as the gaseous colors spread throughout the hall, flashes of various images appearing. “Look carefully you foolish beings, look what you have been doing because of your monstrous selves.” “It wasn’t our fault, we were completely clueless as to what we were doing, and we knew nothing about our kinds,” Haechan exclaimed sorrowfully. “You kill innocents to satiate your beastly taste buds and still dare to say you’re not at fault?” Valery bellowed. “A death caused by accident or impulse is still nonetheless death to me, a murder.”

“As for you,” Valery said while pointing her forefinger towards Jaehyun. “You have shown me that not only you’re a beast outside, but also inside. I condemn you to eternal loneliness; your only family turning into lifeless statues, they can’t converse, eat, and sleep, a curse that shall remain for a lifetime if not broken within a span of 51 years, a curse that shall be broken only if a maiden chooses to fall for you despite your beastly nature.” And in a blink of an eye, she disappeared.

Jaehyun felt numb, his limbs paralyzing as he propped to the ground, seeing his brothers’ bodies turning into stones. Taeyong’s eyes glistened with tears, as it rolled down his cheeks, Jaehyun wondered if he would ever be able to free them from the wrath that befell them only because of him.   

[dxxdlexxdle]

Mr. and Mrs. Prongs Love Story Headcanon!

my fav heteros deserve some love tonight. it’s raining currently where i live, and it’s a good night to write some heart-wrenching headcanons, i think!

words: 1,694

warnings: fluff, hints at smut, maybe? pain. eternal fucking suffering cause this fandom kills me. some of the storyline may be fucked my memory is HORRIBLE and i tried to base some scenes off of MsKingBean89’s all the young dudes

—

In their first year at Hogwarts, the very first day they had even been inside the castle, actually, James Potter realized something.

The copper haired girl across from him was awfully pretty.

She was disgusted at the way he declared someday they would be married. “WHY would I ever marry you?” She had shouted, moving down the table to the blonde and curly haired witches she had met earlier on the train. James stared at her, doe-eyed. She was perfect.

This did however mean he was the first of the boys to take an interest in girls. By girls I mean, well, just Lily. Sirius Black thought it was awfully funny. “Mate, girls have cooties.” Remus Lupin was too shy to have an opinion. Peter could hardly even tell his own feet apart from left and right, and his lip trembled when he got yelled at, so there was no hope for him.

James took to teasing Lily to try and get his point across. Lily thought it was horrible. Why was he being so horrid if he supposedly fancied her? Why did he even fancy her in the first place? Somebody like her, a witch from non-magic parents, and somebody like him, a pureblood wizard?

It wasn’t until one day in potions she told him just what she thought of him. His tormenting had gone on too long. He had bewitched one of her pigtails to tug on its own from across the room.

“You are foul, James Potter!” She had shouted, resulting in thirty points from Gryffindor. James had just beamed.

James was a smiling mess, really. For starters, she had said his name, out loud, to him. Secondly, her nose scrunched when she was angry.

Anybody would notice a girl’s nose scrunch when she was angry, surely?

In second year, he announced that this would be the year she would want to marry him too. Alas, no luck. If anything, this year, she came prepared with snarky remarks to his teasing. It made him swoon.

In third year, Lily Evans overheard the boys whispering in the common room.

“What are you four planning?” She had asked, plopping down beside her lanky, slightly edgy looking best mate Remus. She avoided James’ eyes.

“Look at this, Mrs. Prongs come to join the party.” Sirius chuckled, and James punched him in the arm.

“Mrs. Prongs..?”

“SIRIUS.” James hissed at his friend who was doubled over.

In fourth year, she had begun to tolerate him. The teasing from Sirius was what did it. James was bad enough, his almost-brother was as relentless as him, but for different reasons.

“Prongs and Lily, sitting in the Whomping Willow, S-N-O-G-“

“Sirius!” Lily and James shouted in unison, equally red.

Fifth year changed them both. This was when Lily realized Remus was a werewolf. She swore secrecy, and promised to tell nobody else, as long as she lived.

James had already known. Once a month he was running in the woods as a stag, pushing his half-wolf friend around playfully with his antlers- or should I say prongs? ;)

In sixth year, Remus Lupin noticed Lily sitting in the stands, watching Gryffindor’s quidditch practice.

“What’s got you here? Marlene isn’t at practice today?”

Lily had turned a shade almost as red as her hair. “Oh Remus, don’t make me say it,” she hissed. Remus was in a fit of giggles.

“You fancy James!”

“Hush!” And she whacked his arm with her textbook.

To be honest with herself, this was not the beginning of how she felt for James. It had been a fluttering feeling in her tummy when she noticed him in the common room a few weeks earlier, sweater sleeves rolled up, reading over the quidditch signups. His messy hair, his glasses perched on the bridge of his nose..

But, anybody would notice the way a boy’s sleeves were rolled up, exposing brown skin and pretty veins, surely?

Lily never knew this, but James had noticed her watching him. He kept the smirk to himself. He felt the flutter too. Ah yes, twitterpated.

Sixth year was also the year they learned how to cast a patronus. A silver doe shot from Lily’s wand on her first try, which elicited squeals from the girls and cheers from the boys. The deer pranced around the room, as if looking for something. As if missing something.

James purposely disrupted the class that day, so he could be sent out. It cost 50 points, but he didn’t care. He knew as soon as he cast the stag that would shoot from his wand everybody would know, and he just couldn’t do that to Evans.

In 1977, when the Marauders and co. went on their camping trip, James and Lily really had only stayed up talking that night, despite the somewhat knowing looks Sirius tried to pass to James in the morning.

It had been late, after Remus had come out, and the other girls crashed in their tent. Sirius had gone down to the beach after him.

“Sirius ought to leave him be, reckon that was difficult to admit..” and James scratched the back of his neck. Lily had turned to him then. Their eyes met.

“Are you joking? They’re both gay, you idiot. They’re very clearly in love. Look at the way Sirius looks at Remus, he looks at him the way I look at you.”

Their kisses had been hot and heavy in the darkness of their tent, but that was it. Kisses the two had waited far too long for.

That night, James admired the girl lying beside him. He pulled out his wand and cast his patronus, and due to the size of the tent the stag was tiny, dancing over their heads. Lily blushed and cast hers. For the first time, the doe wasn’t searching anymore. She had found the stag.

Their relationship was as expected. Letters all summer, Lily even taught her boyfriend how to use a muggle phone. Then, in the autumn, they were all over each other. Holding hands in public, snogging in broom closets,

“You are foul!” Lily had giggled, smacking her boyfriend on the hand as it slipped up her skirt in potions.

“What was that, Princess?” He murmured, and she couldn’t argue with him anymore

James admired her every minute he had the chance. How she looked reading, sleeping, spilling tea down her sweater, and especially how she looked at him with her heavy, fluttering eyelashes.

Because, how could he not admire the prettiest girl in the world when he was on top of her?

After they graduated, they immediately moved in together. Due to the war, Lily promised her muggle parents she would be safer. Although they didn’t understand (or like) the idea of their daughter fighting a war, they let her go with warm goodbyes.

They fought. They attended order meetings. They had lunch with Peter and Sirius and Marlene and Mary and Dorcas when they could. They fretted over Remus’ whereabouts. They paced.

Lily proposed. Well, I suppose James proposed first every damn year at Hogwarts, but she meant it for real that time. They were married by the fall. They invited everybody still alive, and they danced, and they seemed to glow under twinkling fairy lights. They had cast their patronuses again that night, just so the doe and the stag could dance over their heads.

“Reckon they like each other?” James smirked, and Lily just laughed.

When she found out she was pregnant, James slung her over his shoulder and spun around with her, and they laughed. They laughed until they cried because holy shit, we’re having a baby!

He talked to her belly every time he had the chance. “Hello little boy-“

“Could be a girl,” Lily objected, leaning against the headboard, guiding James’ hand with hers over to where the baby was kicking.

“Right. Whatever they are, they’ll kick ass on the quidditch pitch, huh bub?”

In July, with a scream and a cry and a push, a slimy baby was placed on Lily’s chest. She couldn’t believe it. She couldn’t believe she was here, with this boy who chose her, looking at their beautiful boy. James was right, and he was ecstatic.

“A son! I’ve a son-“ and then he was too choked up.

They taught Harry how to hold his head up, they both tried to get him to say “Mumma” and “Dada.” They took polaroids of his drooly smiles and his giggles. They took pictures of Uncle Moony and Padfoot holding him. They had a picture of Uncle Peter with Harry on his hip, and the pen on the bottom read ‘future chess master ;)’

When they went into hiding, their only real fight was about whether Remus was the spy.

“He’s our friend,” Lily had argued, angrily picking up baby toys from the floor and putting them into the toy bin.

“But he’s a were-“

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” Lily said, tears threatening her waterline. “Remus is a good man. He’s as good as you or Peter, or Sirius. He is our friend. He’s my friend. He would never.”

And although that night they fought, James still told Lily to take the baby and run, because even though they were angry, he’d die before he ever let Voldemort touch her.

“James, wait, I’m sor-“

“You and me, right Lily?” His voice was strained. He almost couldn’t look at her. At the fear in his eyes that reflected in hers- the eyes he had to see every time he looked at his beautiful son. He wanted to run with her, but he knew he couldn’t. “Take Harry and go. It’s him. I’ll hold him off.”

Lily Evans made it upstairs by the time the front door was blown open. Harry had been asleep. She cradled him in her arms, preparing for the blast of the door being opened.

“Harry, Mumma loves you. Dada loves you. Be brave, Harry.”

James Potter died thinking Lily Evans had made it out alive. It wasn’t until the stag saw a familiar silver doe at the edge of the woods, waiting for him, that he knew.

—

#imsosorryyall