#despite the happy memories and for years after the epilogue this was it for her

[jeonsweetpea]

The Moon Knows Our Secrets (1)

Exes to Lovers!AU | Hybrid!Jungkook x Hybrid!OC | Soulmate!AU

genre: angst, smut, exes to lovers, vampire/werewolf hybrid (emphasis on werewolf), soulmates, forced proximity

rating: explicit

description: He doesn’t remember loving you. How could he, when you’re the one who erased his memories? You run into him a year later at a wedding. The year after that he’s reported missing and you go off to find him. Then you wonder: did he ever forget you?

word count: 9.1k

warnings: blood, blood-drinking, one injury, flirting, TXT is mentioned and they’re horny brats but protective!JK swoops in, ANGST, mentions of compulsion, past deaths, JK smokes for like, one second, fire, resentment, but trust me, they will fall for each other all over again, two-shot 💖

smut warnings: OC goes into HEAT at the worst time, kissing, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, squirting, overstimulation, (more intense smut to come in part 2)

a/n: This is an epilogue for my series Moonstruck (inspired by TVD), but it can be read as a STAND-ALONE! You do not have to read Moonstruck (but it will be more satisfying if you have 😉). I love this couple and they deserve their (steamy) happy ending. They both embody the “right person, wrong place.”

Part 1 | Part 2 |

“You’re going to forget the fact you ever loved me. I’m just the girl who had a crush on you and trained with you, nothing more. I want you to live your life freely. If we ever cross paths again, don’t approach me. When I’m ready, I’ll come to you and you can decide then if you’ll have me. You’ll remember then. I love you, Jungkook.”

You first saw him again at a wedding.

When you arrive at the venue, your eyes scan the sea of strangers for him like an automated response. You clutch onto the chain of your purse, the tight squeeze in your chest never seeming to disappear. Once you’re sure of his absence, the tension in your shoulders fades.

Round tables are arranged around a central dance floor, so you sit at the closest one, joining in the crowd’s applause despite not knowing what’s happening. The happy couple is swaying to romantic jazz music played by the live band, their adoring smiles perfectly matched.

“What did I miss?”

Your old classmate chuckles when she notices your presence, using her fingers to count as she lists off her answers. “The ring bearer, flower girl, the da-da-da-da piano introduction, the vows, the kiss, the first dance—so pretty much everything. Surprised to see you here.”

So are you. It took you hours of hyping yourself up before deciding to attend. You never RSVP-ed properly, allocating all your time to getting ready instead. Not that you had anyone to impress, but it’s a wedding. Sweatpants weren’t going to cut it.

“Can everyone please have a seat? We’re going to hear the best man give his speech!” That authoritative voice belonged to Kim Namjoon, the headmaster of BTSU (Be The Supernatural University). His dimple smile emerges when he notices you and he waves excitedly, dropping the microphone in the process. 

You giggle. “See? I didn’t miss everything, Lia.”

She hands you a glass of champagne, then clinks the glass against your own. “Okay, Ms. Fashionably Late. At least you look hot.”

The guests take their seats while the couple sits at the head table near the dance floor. There’s a small stage next to them and on it is a microphone stand under a beautifully decorated archway. A blanket of silence washes over the crowd as anticipation rises, but the best man is nowhere to be found. Murmurs spread quickly as heads turn in confusion.

“I’m here, I’m here!”

You don’t have to look to know who that voice belonged to. The glass in your hand trembles, on the brink of shattering under your tightening grip. Your mouth parts open in shock, your heart rate beating so loudly that it rings in your ears, drowning out the noise of the crowd’s applause as the so-called best man gets on stage. 

Jeon Jungkook — your ex-boyfriend.

Could you even call him your ex? Your history was, in a word, complicated. Boyfriend and girlfriend weren’t labels you two were fortunate enough to share. Bound by trauma, forced into despair, crippled with pain — the “relationship” in question was toxic. 

“You’re going to forget the fact you ever loved me…”

A hybrid had many advantages — compulsion included. With one look, you ordered him to forget having loved you and then left. Traveling the world healed you and the thought of returning to your college campus never once crossed your mind until a year later.

Your old professor sent you a text — a wedding invitation to be specific. Though the gesture was sweet, you preferred staying blissfully ignorant. You almost deleted it. However, F.O.M.O was a crippling feeling, so you ultimately gave in. 

You were aware the chances of running into Jungkook were high, but that’s why you arrived late on purpose. You had let your guard down too easily, assuming he might’ve left early or not bother showing up at all. What a fool. 

The fairy lights strung across the venue illuminate him with a gorgeous golden glow as he steps onto the stage. You hold your breath as the world seems to slow down, taking in his features. 

His hair used to be longer and shaggier; you teased him for having a mop-head back then (lovingly). Now it’s half long, with shaved sides and a slight mullet. He wore a simple white shirt, layered with a classic black blazer and matching dress pants. Several square box chains surrounded his neck, complimenting his silver hoop earrings and lip ring (when did he get that?). His accessories sparkle under the lights, almost blinding, as if he were a living filter. 

Damn. He’s only gotten more gorgeous. 

Jungkook quickly adjusts the microphone stand to his height, then presents a bunny-tooth grin. “Hello everyone! Sorry, I’m late. I had forgotten my script.” He shakes the index cards in his hands gently, causing a ripple of laughter through the crowd. “It’s an honor being both Hoseok and Yoongi’s best man.”

Jung Hoseok was your old classmate, who used to be the alpha of the werewolf pack senior year. But then along came Jungkook, who stole the title from beneath him after challenging him to a duel. Funny how he is now his best man. 

Min Yoongi was the one who invited you, a research assistant at your university. If you had to describe him in a phrase, it’d be: “Actions speak louder than words.” You knew his intentions when he sent the invitation, so you had to come and support him the same way he’s done for you. 

Jungkook peers down at his script before placing a hand on the microphone. 

“I’ve known Yoongi and Hoseok for years now and their love is truly special. They’re often private with their affection, but we know how they would go out of their way for each other. My favorite part is whenever Hoseok compliments Yoongi, he’d—”

“AaarrghhH!!!” The obnoxious scream is from Yoongi himself, who had stood up and faced away from the crowd. People crack up at his hilarity, including Hoseok who is clapping his hands like a seal. 

“Yes. That. Exactly that,” Jungkook says, followed by a soft chuckle. “The two play off each other well. Hoseok brings joy to everyone and it’s infectious. I’ve never seen Yoongi happier than when he’s with Hoseok.”

Yoongi rubs the nape of his neck, a shy smile gracing his features as he sits back down. Hoseok places his head on his partner’s shoulders, sighing in content. Jungkook flips to the next index card and clears his throat.

“Yoongi and Hoseok are people I like from the bottom of my heart. They’re like family, and I’m so glad to be a part of their story. We were able to come to where we are right now because everybody was all together.” His lips tremble slightly as he holds the corners of the card with both hands, tears slowly welling up in his eyes. His head hangs low for a moment but then he looks up, forcing a smile on his face. “Sorry, I’m getting emotional.”

You almost shout it’s okay! but nothing comes out. Fortunately, a couple of folks blurt out comforting words that make him laugh as he quickly wipes his tears away. He rolls his shoulders back and blows a small raspberry with his lips to reset. 

“These two have both helped me through so much. When I almost lost my life. When I lost my friends. When I wanted to give up on myself,” His eyes scanned across the venue as if simulating eye contact with each guest. “And especially when I experienced the biggest absence of my life with…”

His words are cut short at the same time your breath hitches. It’s a split second, but you’re sure. You’re sure his gaze fell on you, his expression stiffening slightly while you let out a silent gasp. The world seems to be at a standstill until he crumples the cards in his hand and tosses them aside. He lets out a half-hearted laugh, gesturing to the large projector screen he prepared earlier. 

“Enough about me!” he exclaims. “I made a compilation of the couple’s best moments. Enjoy!”

You don’t pay attention to the video playing despite the roaring laughter from the crowd. Someone shouts something about the couple wearing colorful animal sheet masks, but your eyes are glued to Jungkook. He exits the stage, heading back to his group of friends at the table furthest from yours. They give him a pat on the back and he’s back to smiling as if nothing happened. 

Was it your imagination? Maybe he wasn’t looking at you. You finish your champagne in one gulp, slamming the glass down without meaning to. The sharp sting in your palm makes you realize your actions as you groan, the deep cut across your hand oozing blood. 

“[Y/N], are you okay? Oh my gosh, here.” Lia is quick to grab the cloth napkin, wrapping it around your hand and tying a knot. 

“Thanks, but I’m fine. I’ll heal anyway.”

“Still, how did this even happen? What’s got you so tense?”

You say nothing, but she follows your line of sight and purses her lips. “Are you looking at the wolves? Is it Jungkook?”

“No,” you say quickly. “I’m gonna go to the restroom and wash the blood off.”

Before she can interrogate you further, you make a break for it. It was difficult walking in your nude heels, each step feeling like you were sinking deeper into the grass. The fairy lights help you see in the dark as you pass by the greenery of the garden, the flowers being your favorite part. You’d stop to smell them but didn’t want the blood to stain their lovely petals. Your feet finally reach a cobblestone path and you see the restroom building up ahead. 

There’s a handwashing sink outside. Once you turn on the faucet, you unwrap the cloth around your hand and wash the excess blood away. The cut had partially healed already — another perk of hybrid blood — but it still felt nice.

You find yourself lost in thought as the cool water flows onto your hands. You tell yourself there’s no way Jungkook was looking at you. He doesn’t even know you. At least, not in the way he used to. 

“I’m just the girl who had a crush on you and trained with you, nothing more. I want you to live your life freely.”

Ah. Right. You’ve been reduced to a mere stranger now. The depressing reality makes you sigh as you turn off the water. 

That’s when you hear it. Footsteps. Heavy ones that grow louder from behind you. The hairs on your neck stand up as you turn around.

Jungkook is approaching you, his stride long and confident. Your brain must have been rewired to put him in slow motion because he’s like a model walking down a runway. You can’t believe your eyes and are torn between running away or staying put. He’s closer now. Your heart skips a beat, the anticipation crushing you. Stay put it is.

“If we ever cross paths again, don’t approach me.”

Yet here he is. Approaching you. Had the compulsion not worked on him? Did he remember you all this time? Well, your answer comes when he walks right by you without sparing a glance as he enters the men’s restroom. You blink a few times, stunned by what took place.

Well, that proves it; the compulsion was still effective. You look at the bloody napkin in your hand, clutching it tightly. 

“What, is he blind? He didn’t even ask if I was okay. This is a huge red flag, literally!” You wave the fabric around like a crazed woman, having half a mind to chuck it across the building. After sulking for a minute, you compose yourself and prepare to head back.

That’s when an unpleasant smell creeps its way into your nose. It’s harsh, like the smell of acetone and burnt wood, and you cough uncontrollably. The acrid fumes are suffocating as you wander around the restrooms for the smell. 

“It’s coming from the men’s side…” you mumble to yourself. 

“When I’m ready, I’ll come to you and you can decide then if you’ll have me.”

Ignore it. It’s not your business. Yet your feet are already stomping inside, where your ex jolts in alarm at your sudden presence. 

“Hey, just because you’re a hybrid doesn’t mean smoking is okay!” The cigarette dangles from his mouth when his lips part in a small “o” shape, seconds from falling. You swipe it from him, drop it on the ground, and crush it under your heel. His doe eyes are larger than before, but your actions render him speechless. “It’s a gross habit and causes bad breath. So… yeah. Don’t smoke. Even if you’re practically immortal it’s not good for you.”

You spin around and close your eyes, cringing at your meddlesome behavior. You should leave before things escalate. 

“Are you okay?” Your eyes flutter open. He must think you’re deranged! “Your hand… is that blood?”

You look down, noticing the cloth in your hand was no longer white, but a deep crimson that seemed to permeate nonstop. 

“Oh, this is nothing. It’ll heal soon.”

He circles and gets in front of you, holding out his hand. “May I take a look?”

Whatever compels you to give your hand to him is a mystery, but you do it. He removes the cloth first, then inspects your palm, concern etched in his features. Blood continues to ooze out of the gash, but all you can focus on is the warmth of his hand enveloping your cold one. It reminds you of holding a hot cup of coffee in the morning except in this case, your cortisol levels are spiking. 

“It’s not good for you, you know,” he says with a soft smile. He directs his gaze from his hand to your own. “Getting cuts on such pretty hands. Who did this to you?”

If you had a brain, you didn’t anymore. You feel it short-circuiting, the hints of protectiveness in his voice setting sirens off in your mind. “No one… I accidentally broke a glass.”

It comes out as a whisper, but he acknowledges your response with a gentle “hmm.”

“This won’t do. It’s not healing fast enough,” His eyes shift up to meet your own. “You’re practically dripping in my hand.”

How can he say such things to you with such a straight face? The double entendre is blatant, but calling him out for it would only expose your impure thoughts.

“Shall I clean you up?” You don’t miss how he says “you” and not “it.” His irises glow a ruby red, matching his blood-shot sclera. Protruding veins appear under his eyes as he opens his mouth wide enough to exhibit his sharp fangs. It’s a hauntingly beautiful sight.

“That’s okay, you don’t—you don’t have to.” 

“Maybe I want to. Besides… I was smoking to curb my cravings. You took that away, so I need something else to satisfy me.”

You gulp. “And you think my blood will do that?”

He flashes you a smirk. “I’d like to find out. If you’ll let me.”

He doesn’t remember. He doesn’t remember. He can’t remember. Right? 

You agree with a soft “okay” and Jungkook doesn’t hold back. He sticks his tongue out, licking up the blood that overflowed onto his thumb first before following the stream up to your palm. He presses his lips onto the gash and sucks, earning a small gasp from you. This catches his attention, and he stares at you. His pupils are dilated, the primal look in his gaze so enrapturing. 

The pit of your stomach is on fire as he continues feeding from the palm of your hand. His tongue comes out to play, swiping back and forth, leaving no spot untouched. It tickles, but you’re too tense to move a muscle. 

Then he moans. It’s low at first, but then he closes his eyes and does it again. This time it’s more guttural, and he presses harder against you like he was starved.

“Ow,” you say, wincing when his fangs pierce your skin. It coaxes more blood to come out, and he visibly shudders.

“Sorry, I—Fuck,” His breath is uneven as he pants, drunk on your taste. He furrowed his eyebrows like he was mad, fighting against his primal urges to devour you whole. “I’ll be more careful. Please let me finish, please.”

Oh my god. He’s begging you. It’s too adorable to resist. He opens his eyes when you don’t reply, and you quickly give him your consent. His technique, if you can even call it that, grows sloppy as he rushes to clean up the mess he made. It’s like he was embarrassed, which makes your heart grow fonder. 

Once he finishes, his lips come together and make a loud smooching sound. He kisses the spot once again, lovingly, and then pulls away. You’re shocked to see the cut is no longer there. 

“Delicious. Sweet, with a hint of spice.”

You’re flattered by the handsome blood sommelier but retract your hand, hiding it behind your back while clearing your throat. 

“Um… Thank you.” That sounded more lame out loud than in your head, but nothing else seemed appropriate. 

Jungkook rubs the excess blood from the corner of his lips with his thumb. “It was my pleasure.” He sucks it and then releases his thumb with a loud pop.

Discomfort washes over you with how quiet the restroom gets, but you don’t break the silence. Instead, you turn around and head for the exit. 

“You’re [Y/N], right?” Three steps. That’s how far you got. “We were in the same year together.”

You grab onto the chain of your purse again. “Yeah. We were.”

And you leave it at that. 

You walk around to ease the buried feelings threatening to bubble up to the surface. Aside from the reception in the garden, the rest of the campus is quiet. Not a single light is on from the buildings you pass, your heels following the moonlight instead.

You pass the library, the gym, and the fine arts hall, but your steps halt at the girls’ dormitory. Memories flood your mind one by one: decorating your room, staying up late studying for exams, and the time when Jungkook slept over and—no. Shit. Don’t think about a love that’s lost. 

A weighted sigh comes as you sit on the steps, giving your feet a much-deserved break. You hug your knees, tuck your head down, and rest it in your folded arms as if you wanted to hide from the world. Why the hell did you think coming here would be easy?

His touch lingers in your mind as you replay the moment. The way he held your hand, the way he was concerned for your well-being, and the way he fed off your blood was far more intimate than you expected. Then he said your name.

It ignited a yearning you thought you had suppressed.

“I should leave…” you say out loud to no one in particular. 

“And miss the group picture?”

You lift your head slowly like you were caught red-handed committing a heinous crime. You’re greeted by pointed black dress shoes, black dress pants, a white shirt and black blazer, silver necklaces, and soft doe eyes that could melt anyone’s heart. 

“Jungkook…”

His eyes light up, a tinge of rouge dancing across his cheeks as he slips his hands into his pockets. “So you do remember me.”

How could I ever forget? “Well yeah… we were in the same year together.”

He scrunches his nose, amused at your usage of his past words. “That’s it? We were sparring partners, we went on missions together, and I’m pretty sure you saved my life by turning me into a hybrid,” Your jaw falls to the ground while his lips curve into a playful grin. “Ring a bell?”

The logistics of your compulsion weren’t specific as to how much Jungkook would remember. Then again, you didn’t erase his memory of your existence, so it’s natural he would remember some basic things. 

“Wow, you have a good memory. Um… yeah, I guess that covers the extent of our relationship.”

He quirks his eyebrow, sounding far too happy for your liking as he says, “We… have a relationship?”

You put your hands out in a stop motion and shake them in a panic. “No! Not at all. I–I meant that’s all we are to each other. Nothing more, nothing less. Just old classmates.”

“I see. What a shame though. I feel like we would have… should have gotten to know each other more back then.”

His voice has a trace of longing, but you dismiss it for friendly conversation. “Really? I was too focused on my studies anyway. You wouldn’t have liked me.”

He nods. “Considering how you stomped out my cigarette? Yeah, probably not.”

You scoff, a playful glint in your eyes. “Excuse me for looking out for you.”

“Never asked you to, but I’ll admit, I enjoy the attention.” You both laugh and then he extends his hand out to you. “Come on. Let’s go take the group picture together.”

“Oh, it’s okay. I’m not fond of pictures. Yoongi and Hobi don’t even know I’m here, so it’s not like they’ll notice.”

“I’ll notice,” You stare at him, watching his smile fade and how serious his demeanor becomes. “Your absence is significant, especially to those who care about you. They’ll remember it for the rest of their lives.”

You are about to speak when he adds, “Besides, the formation is off and we need one more person to fill in the gap.”

With a roll of your eyes, you swat his hand away and stand. “Alright, I get it. Let’s go.”

He smiles, puts his hands back in his pockets, and leads the way back. You follow him to the garden where guests are lined up in neat, staggered rows. Most of them have their arms crossed, some tapping their feet anxiously, while the rest have their hands on their hips. Even the main couple in the front row are mouthing words you can’t hear, but the way Yoongi slaps a hand to his forehead makes you aware of his distress.

“Oh!” Hoseok shouts with a jump, pointing his finger in your direction. “They’re here!”

Everyone expresses their relief with a “thank goodness” or “about time” as you and Jungkook make your way over. 

“You found her!” Namjoon says, holding up his hand for a high-five. Jungkook walks by too fast to notice, so you high-five him to ease his embarrassment.

“Wow, is that [Y/N]? You look incredible.” The man next to Namjoon gives you two thumbs up and you smile at the compliment. 

“Jin…” You can’t help but hug him tight and he reciprocates. Kim Seokjin aka Jin was the head witch on campus and counselor. You’ve confided in him for years and seeing him again almost brings tears to your eyes.

“Alright, alright. That’s enough.” Yoongi pats Jin’s back, a signal to release his hold on you. You laugh and then embrace him next, earning an obnoxious groan, but the fond smile on his face shows his true emotions. “I’m so glad you’re here. Thank you for coming.”

“Of course. Thank you for inviting me.”

You stop hugging him to see Hoseok with his arms out already, his heart-shaped grin wide.

“Come here~,” You let out an “oof” sound from how tight he squeezes you. “We had no idea you were here! Jungkook convinced the cameraman to wait until he found you.”

You let him go and look over to Jungkook, who clears his throat as he looks off to the side. The apples of his cheeks are rosy, which you find endearing. 

“Here, stand in the front row next to me,” Hoseok says, gesturing to the spot between him and Jungkook. Jungkook takes a large step to the right, allowing enough space for you to squeeze in.

“Alright, now that we finally have everyone here…” the cameraman says out loud, throwing a harsh glare in your direction. You give him a sheepish grin in return. “Everyone needs to scoot over to my left please.”

The crowd obeys, but the cameraman’s displeased frown remains. “Now everyone needs to squeeze closer together.”

There’s some shuffling and you bump into Hoseok after Jungkook’s shoulder bumps into yours. 

“Sorry,” he whispers. You tell him it’s okay.

The cameraman crosses his arms. “Come on, you guys. Act like you like each other! Closer!”

Everyone scooches in again, but Jungkook’s hand brushes against yours. The touch is electrifying, and you forget how to breathe. You can’t process your emotions as the cameraman orders the guests on your side to turn their bodies inwards at an angle. Jungkook exhales and his hot breath fans the nape of your neck. You feel your palms start to sweat. 

“Three, two, one, smile!” You put on your most picture-perfect smile, the flash nearly blinding you. “One more! This time do a silly pose!”

You observe what others choose for their pose. Bunny ears are common, heart poses are also popular whether using arms or hands. Some stick their tongues out while others fake a dramatic gasp. You shift in your position when your heels betray you and you stumble backward.

As if on cue, a pair of arms catch you and you’re dipped like you’re in a dance class with Jungkook’s face peering down at you. His sweet cologne wafts into your nostrils, a nice blend of amber and rose. These moments only happen in movies — or so you think — yet he’s a fantasy that somehow becomes your reality. 

The camera shutters and captures your deer-in-the-headlights expression and Jungkook’s, who mirrors after you. It makes the cameraman let out a hearty laugh, and he’s not sure who the real married couple is.

“Are you okay?”

You nod and he helps you regain stability. Your hand touches your face, feeling the heat radiating off your cheek. The cameraman dismisses everyone and your friends jump at the opportunity to hound you with questions. 

Hoseok’s eager to go first. “Whatcha been up to, [Y/N]? It’s been so long since we’ve all been together.”

“Just traveling, not much,” you reply, forcing the muscles in your mouth to cooperate into a believable smile. 

“Hey, that’s her business. Don’t be nosy,” Namjoon interjects. Yoongi and Jin give each other a knowing look.

“You’re just saying that because she communicates with you the most,” Jin teases. 

“I mean, I was her mentor… can’t help it if I’m her favorite.” He pats his puffed-out chest twice, proud as he winks at you. You giggle and Yoongi joins in the conversation.

“Okay, if anyone’s her favorite, it’s actually me. But anyway,” he tilts his head towards the bar, “help yourself to a drink.”

“Ooh, I will. Do you have any recommendations?” you ask. 

“Do you want something strong? Fruity?”

“Get her what Jungkook got,” Namjoon says. Jungkook stands off to the side, his jaw clenches at his name being mentioned. “You like peach-flavored things, right?”

“Yeah. How’d you know?”

“Because he told me…” He notices the group shooting glares at him like daggers. It reminds you of when an idol spoils their next comeback by accident. “... Told me it was delicious and that anyone would like it. It goes down smoothly. Very yummy. Hah. Hahaha! Is that a saxophone?”

He leaves the group in a hurry with Jin chasing after him yelling, “No! Leave the sax alone! I’m not paying for damages!”

Awkward glances are exchanged between Hoseok and Yoongi, a silent two-player game of telepathy you weren’t a part of. You can’t compel Hoseok, but Yoongi’s human. One look and you’d know what he was thinking, but that’d be highly inappropriate to do that to the groom at his wedding. 

“I’ll order my own,” you tell the couple and they wave goodbye. Jungkook’s already retreated to his friends, much to your relief. 

Once you’re at the outdoor bar, your mood lifts upon seeing the bartender. She puts down the glass she was drying and rests her hands on the countertop.

“Well if it isn’t the original hybrid queen herself.”

The bartender is young, her oval face and sharp jawline giving her a cute, handsome aura. Her hair is short, about shoulder-length, and straight. Her eyes are large, emphasized by her dramatic makeup to draw you in until you’re lost in them. 

“Hi, Ryujin. Wow, I haven’t seen you in forever.” She had a white shirt underneath her black vest; you think it suits her tom-boyish charms well.

“Since vampire ability class, I know. What can I get you, beautiful?”

The smirk she sends you has your nerves sparking, and the palms of your hands sweaty. It was different when a girl complimented you. It felt more believable, flattering even. 

You shrug in response to maintain a calm demeanor. “Hmm… I don’t know. Maybe something fruity? Citrusy?”

She nods, grabbing a shaker and a bottle of liquor under the counter straight away. You watch as she juggles the two items in the air, covering your mouth at the thought of gravity ruining her trick. However, she caught them both with ease, moving at such a fast speed as she concocted your beverage. It’s an elegant performance, her movements fluid like it’s an art. She finishes by topping off your glass with an orange slice.

“Here you go,” She slides the glittery pink drink over, and you take a sip, allowing the fruity taste to coat your tongue. “Matches your dress.”

You smile at the thoughtful gesture. “It’s good. Tastes like peaches and grapefruit. What’s it called?”

“It’s something I came up with. I wouldn’t mind sharing the recipe with you after the event’s over.”

You don’t miss the flirty tone in her words and can only laugh. She was so refreshing and has always stuck up for you in the past when others called you stuck-up for being a hybrid. Who knew she would end up flirting with you at a wedding years later?

“So? What do you say?” she asks, her eyes brimming with hope. You take another drink and finish the whole thing despite your shaky hands. She gives you a fond smile. “If I’m being too forward, tell me.”

“No, I’m just nervous,” you blurt out, setting the glass down. “You’re really pretty.”

“Is that so?”

You’re about to respond when you feel your temperature rise. You clasp a hand to your forehead, which goes from warm to scalding in seconds. Sweat beads form around your temples as your breathing becomes harsher. You rest your elbow on the counter to keep yourself balanced, but your legs are burning too. It was like someone lit a torch from beneath you, cooking your flesh inside out. 

“Hey, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” Ryujin asks. You shake your head and your vision blurs, the lights behind her looking like a bokeh image. She hands a bottle of water to you, and you gulp it down, yet the fever persists and you feel worse. 

Ryujin sees your eyes widen in alarm as you peer down at your dress. She inspects it too, but doesn’t see anything abnormal. You rub your thighs together. 

“Fuck… I think I’m in heat,” you tell her. Your hand rummages through your purse and then you curse again, frustrated. “I’m out of suppressants!”

Ryujin snaps her fingers when a lightbulb goes off in her head. “Ask Lia.”

“Good idea.”

You blink to wet your eyes, regaining clarity of your surroundings before heading to Lia on the dance floor. She was all smiles with a guy until you bumped into her, your darn heels being the bane of your existence.

“Hey!”

“Sorry,” you quickly say, “I need your help.”

She takes one look, excuses herself, and brings you to a quieter space. Her hand reaches into her clutch and pulls out a lace handkerchief, dabbing the sweat off your forehead. Her touch is gentle and she asks quietly, “Are you in heat?”

Lia and Ryujin were best friends. Your sole encounters with her were because of Ryujin by extension, but even back then, you knew she was sweet. Wolves often looked down upon her because of her doll-like, docile appearance. However, she had enough balls to find friends in other cliques and was, what people say, a girl’s girl. 

“Yes, I feel like I’m dying. Ryujin told me to ask if you have suppressants.”

“I don’t. Do you not track your cycle?”

“I’m a hybrid! It’s random for me!” 

She grimaces, the pity in her eyes inevitable. “I’m sorry, I forgot. But you need to get out of here. Do you know how many horny young wolves are here with zero self-restraint?”

You shift your weight and a pool of discharge releases in your panties, the sticky sensation making you cringe. Lia brings out a travel-sized perfume spray and spritzes your entire body. A wheeze is forced out of you from the potent floral scent, but at least it will cover your pheromones long enough for a distraction.

“Hey everyone! The fireworks are starting soon, let’s go to the front of the school and watch!” Hoseok has his hands cupped around his mouth to carry his voice through the venue, catching the attention of all guests. Lia holds both your hands, looking you dead in the eye with a straight face.

“There. Use this time to find suppressants or get out of here. The perfume won’t last very long.”

“Thanks, Lia, I will.” 

While the crowd heads towards the front, you rush back to the restroom building. You’re a panting mess once inside, but you go into a stall, shut it, and pull down your undergarment. The fabric is soaked in slick and has a hefty weight—you have no choice but to discard it.

Grabbing toilet paper, you clean yourself up as best as you can. Then you step out, wash your hands, and exit the building.

“Hey there.” You almost topple backward from the sudden intrusion. Three guys are in front of you, all wearing the same, smug grin. They’re young, probably younger than you, but one thing’s for sure—they’re werewolves. 

There’s a particular scent that emits from wolves. It’s earthy, like a pine tree, and you’d usually find it comforting but now? Fear crawls up your spine like a spider has latched onto you, its legs creeping up your back in a spot you can’t smack away.

The one in the middle had greeted you first. He has a youthful face, and sculpted cheekbones, which are easy on the eyes. Speaking of, that was his most striking feature. They are almost cat-like (ironically) with how wide and long they are. 

“Are you lost? Everyone’s watching the fireworks,” he says, his thumb hiked over his shoulder. You don’t respond. “Ah, I’m Yeonjun. This is Beomgyu and that’s Soobin.”

Soobin is the tallest. He shows off his dimple smile upon being introduced, which seems pure, but the way his irises shifted to goldenrod says otherwise. Beomgyu, on the other hand, had the most innocent baby face you’ve ever seen. However, you don’t miss the way he licks his lips while giving you a once-over.

“I’m [Y/N]...” You don’t know why you give them your name, but it slips out. Maybe you hoped playing along would lead them to spare you. 

“Oh!” Soobin says, his index finger pointing up at the discovery. “You’re the original hybrid the professors rave about!”

“Half-vampire, half-werewolf, right?” Beomgyu asks. Your double moon necklace glows as you form your fingers into a claw shape behind your back. A small flame ignites and you hold it there, waiting for the right opportunity. 

“Yeah. I guess,” you say. “Why don’t you boys go watch the fireworks? I’ll catch up.”

“Nonsense! As gentlemen, we should escort you. Unless… you’d rather do something else. Here. Now.” Yeonjun raises an eyebrow, but you scowl in response. 

“No thanks.”

Soobin takes a step forward. “Is there anything else we can help you with?”

Beomgyu takes two. “I’m sure the three of us can be of use to you.”

It’s not until Yeonjun approaches you that you cower, stepping backward until you’re stopped by the water fountains. “No need to be shy. No one’s around.”

Your blood is boiling, though you’re not sure if it’s from your heat or rage. What’s worse is you’re not mad at them; you’re mad at yourself. Their words spurred you on as arousal drips down your thighs, a sign of your body’s betrayal. You fear if this escalates, they’ll figure out you’re not wearing anything underneath. 

“Get. Back.” You reveal the burning flame in your palm, the heat emanating off of it close enough to Yeonjun’s face. He jumps back and places a hand on his chest.

“Whoa! She’s feisty. Or should I say… fiery.”

“Maybe we should head back. She can do magic. I thought hybrids don’t know magic,” Soobin whispers. Yeonjun laughs at the ridiculous suggestion, shoving his friend for his cowardice as Beomgyu inspects him for injuries. 

“Doesn’t matter. Look at her state now.” He points in your direction, seeing how you’re barely able to stand. Your breaths are quick, shallow and your heart is thumping around like it’s going to burst out of your rib cage. The fire in your hand diminishes to a mere flicker, and then it’s out. You try to bring it back with the flick of a wrist, but all that emits are tiny sparks. Shit. I haven’t been practicing long enough.

Your womanhood is craving something, anything to alleviate the agony. It’s screaming for release, and you hold your abdomen as a sudden cramp pains you horribly. Human females experience this type of thing monthly and you have to hand it to them. This type of pain requires endurance and fucking sucks. 

You fall onto all fours, clutching your heart which is seconds away from bursting. It’s beating so loud, you can’t even hear the vulgar things the youngins are saying as they rush over. Soobin grabs your right arm; Yeonjun has the other.

You thrash in their clutches, but they only mock you with their boisterous laughter as they force you to your feet.

“Hey, hey! We’re just trying to help,” Soobin says. 

“Unless you’d rather be on all fours,” Yeonjun teases. Beomgyu bends down to your eye level, a crooked smile on his dainty face, the true embodiment of a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

 “You’re pure temptation, you know that?” He leans close, his lips grazing the shell of your ear as he whispers, “Give up. Don’t put up a fight.”

“I don’t consent,” you say, a harsh bite in your words.

Soobin squeezes your arm, almost crushing it in his large hands. “Why? Is it because we’re young?”

“It’s clear you’re horny… we are too. Come on,” Beomgyu pleads. “We’ll take good care of you. Teach us what you like.”

“Yeah. And we’ll do the same.” Yeonjun holds your hand, inspecting it closely. “So soft. I bet your hand would feel so good around my—“

“Get your hands off her before I bite them off.”

Dizziness overwhelms you, so all you see is a blurry figure behind Beomgyu, and you shake your head to come to your senses. Once the man’s face comes into focus, relief washes over you, sending signals for your brain to let down your guard. The energy you so desperately clung to has depleted, so you close your eyes as your limbs turn into jelly.

Five seconds pass and the boys’ hold on you is gone. Someone else catches you before you faint, his scent familiar and comforting. 

“I got you,” he says as he lets you lean against his body. 

“Jungkook…”

“Can you stand?” You don’t know but nod anyway. “Good. Get behind me. You don’t want to see this.”

His broad back shields you from the three wolves, so you don’t even see the damage he inflicted upon them. Yeonjun was thrown into a tree a hundred feet away, the impact so potent that it split in half. Soobin and Beomgyu were fortunate not to collide into anything after being catapulted… except for each other. 

Soobin lands on top of Beomgyu and the smaller boy groans, pushing him off in a huff. He stands first and helps Soobin after. 

“Hey, we didn’t do anything wrong!” Yeonjun shouts as he scrambles to his feet, flaring his nostrils. “You and I both know she’s a bitch in heat!” 

You cling onto Jungkook’s blazer, and he looks over his shoulder.

“Is he right?” You don’t know if he asks to be polite because even you can smell your essence leaking. You hide your face in his back, flustered, but he feels you nod.

He redirects his attention back to the wolves. “That doesn’t give you the right to touch her. I suggest you leave before I make it physically impossible.”

Soobin scoffs while Beomgyu rolls his eyes. Yeonjun’s fuse was already lit and Jungkook’s sure there’s smoke coming out of his ears. You hear him crack his knuckles, the silence that follows deafening as you hold your breath in anticipation.  

“It’s three against two. Well, three against one, really,” Soobin says, laughing like he’s already won. 

“All I see is three smooth-brained pups who are pissing me off.” Jungkook’s eyes shift to a fiery goldenrod, the corner of his lips twitching as he smirks. “You’re aware that [Y/N] isn’t the only hybrid… right?”

You don’t see it, but their faces pale in comparison to earlier. Beomgyu covers his mouth, Soobin’s eyes widen, and Yeonjun growls. 

“There were rumors about more than one hybrid existing, but I didn’t think they were true,” Beomgyu says in a hushed tone. 

“She turned him? Fuck, they’re bonded then,” Soobin says. Yeonjun waves him off in a dismissive manner. 

“I don’t give a fuck. She’s not marked. We can take them.”

Jungkook has his fists up and changes into a fighter stance, but he feels you press your forehead against his back. It’s a searing sensation that scorches him even through the two layers of fabric he had on. He turns around and holds you by the shoulders.

“Hey, stay with me,” he begs. Your head is lolling back and forth as if you were inebriated. 

“It’s so hot… I’m too hot… I hate this, I hate this. Please… I need to cool down,” you beg. Jungkook takes a peek at the time on his watch, then bites his lower lip.

“Okay,” he whispers. “When I count to three, I need you to hold your breath. Can you do that for me?”

You mumble something Jungkook believes is a “yes” based on the beginning /y/ sound. 

“Three… two…”— he looks up —“one!”

A firework shoots up into the night sky, painting it with an explosive rainbow of sparkles. You cover your sensitive ears, but make sure to hold your breath as Jungkook uses his enhanced speed to whisk you away. More fireworks go off, muffling your tracks and making the youngins work harder to find you. 

However, Jungkook’s skills are unmatched. He sprints to the side of the school where the mountains are, and they follow suit. At the last second, he pivots and heads to the secluded area on the opposite side, where the lake is. 

The last memory you had here was something you blocked out to spare your mental health. You had almost died. But now this place was going to save you, funny enough. If you think about it, the lake had more happy memories than bad. This was where Namjoon trained you before you trained Jungkook.

You can picture it now as if it was yesterday. He, a newly turned werewolf, scared of what’s to come in his new life, and you, the school prodigy who had a crush on him.

Jungkook jumps off the dock with you in his arms, the splash overshadowed by the firework’s detonation. The cool water refreshes your sweltering body as you close your eyes, submitting to it. For a moment you don’t care about anything. Not how your makeup is smeared, how your curls are undone, or how your dress is ruined.

You feel strong arms hold you close, and an overwhelming sense of longing hits you in the gut. God, you missed him so much. Even without his memories, he still cares for you. Hell, he went out of his way to protect you.

Just when your lungs are on the verge of giving out, you’re pulled up to the surface. Your eyes flutter open as you rub the water off your face. Jungkook coughs, then cups your face with both hands.

“Are you okay?”

You take in his appearance for what feels like an eternity. His brown eyes twinkle from the moonlight, so beautiful and full of worry. You find it amusing how his hair is stuck to his forehead, the strands partially obstructing his view. Your hand pushes it out of the way without thinking like muscle memory, causing his breath to hitch.

“Thanks to you.”

Fireworks are still going off in the distance, illuminating you two in the crystal-clear water. Jungkook slowly removes his hands from you.

“Good. I um… don’t hear them anymore. They must’ve left. And the water should keep your scent hidden for now.”

“That’s a relief.” Jungkook places the back of his hand against your forehead but retracts it quickly as if he touched a hot stove. 

“Ow, oh my god. You’re still burning up!”

How naive were you to think it’d be over? You’ve experienced this once before, but that was with your first ex, who was at your beck and call for sex whenever you needed it. You couldn’t ask that of Jungkook. Not after everything that’s happened.

“I’ll figure something out. You’ve done a lot for me already and your clothes are wet.”

“I don’t give a damn about my clothes. Tell me how I can help you.”

*BOOM*

A red heart-shaped firework went off as you two stared at each other. Your gaze flickers from his eyes to his luscious lips and he doesn’t miss it. Maybe you don’t want him to.

“Why do you want to help me? We… We’re not that close.”

“Well… the thing is… I-I just…” He is so freakin’ cute. You might die from how endearing he is before your heat destroys you first. “Because.”

“Because?”

*BOOM*

“Because it’s finally just you and me.”

His answer is simple. There shouldn’t be any underlying connotations and yet, it reminds you of a past conversation. 

“We’re in this together. You and me. Okay?”

“Is it really you and me…”

“What do you mean?”

“Will it ever be? Just you and me?” 

“Now tell me what you need. Use me.”

Your pussy is throbbing so much that it’s agonizing. You just need a quick release, then you’ll be sane enough to go home without collapsing. 

“This feels…” So right, you think. “Wrong.”

His hands sneak around your waist. “Then let’s misbehave.”

He hoists you up onto the edge of the dock without warning as if you weigh nothing, and a grunt leaves his lips. It’s far too sexy to ignore, and your mind craves to hear it again. Then he places his hands on either side of your thighs and pulls himself up halfway out of the water, his face now directly in front of yours. 

“Tell me what you need. How can I please you?”

Fuck. You bite your lower lip when you realize the dock isn’t that tall—he’s at the perfect height to carry out the desires you’ve been suppressing. “I need to come…”

A water droplet falls off his button nose when he chuckles. “How do you want to come?”

You stare at his lips, which are thin yet plump at the same time, his lower lip being the bigger half. You think back to earlier when he sucked your palm. 

 “I want you to eat me out…”

He moves fast, almost like he knew what you’d say. His grip on the dock loosens, and he plops back into the lake but grabs your ankles, pulling you forward until your bottom is perched on the very edge. He spreads your thighs and rests his head between them, looking up at you like you were worth the entire universe. 

“Why don’t you lift your dress for me, gorgeous?”

You’re unsure what’s louder — the fireworks or your heart rate. If he keeps speaking to you in that low dialect, you may come right now. Your fingers bunch up the fabric at the hem and you slowly pull it up, exposing your pussy to his feasting eyes. 

“Fuck, what a beautiful pussy.”

You take two fingers and glide it up your folds, coating it in your slick. Jungkook watches, unsure of what you are going to do next. You lean forward, cupping his face with your other hand with a naughty glint in your eyes.

“Open.” He obliges, and you stick your coated fingers in his mouth. A muffled groan comes out as he sucks your fingers, his tongue swirling around so nothing goes to waste. “Good boy.”

You remove your fingers and he’s practically drooling, his eyes a bit crazed from your addictive taste.

“Please let me pleasure you, please.”

You don’t answer and run a hand through his damp hair, stopping at the back to grip it tight as you guide his head closer to where you need him most. He peers up at you adoringly when you hold him an inch away.

“Please me then.”

He doesn’t hesitate. His tongue licks a stripe on your sopping cunt, earning a shudder from you. Your thighs squeeze his head like a reflex, which only spurs him on to press his mouth harder against you. He begins to lap up your juices like a dog and you throw your head back, moaning at how insanely good it felt. 

You tangle your fingers in his hair and pull him closer if possible, the tight hold giving him a tinge of pain that ignites his carnal desires. He slurps your pussy like it was his last meal on death row, slithering his arms underneath your knees and holding your thighs hostage. You don’t know which noise was most obscene—your moaning or Jungkook’s.

Sneaking your free hand down, you use your forefinger and middle finger to spread your pussy lips wider. Jungkook’s excited and sinks his tongue as deep as it would go. You’re impatient now, riding his face as he tongue-fucks you. 

“Fuck, you’re so good to me, yes—oh god…” You don’t have it in you to say anything more coherent except for broken moans. Jungkook pauses for a second, and you whine at the loss of contact. Then you’re being stretched out as his two fingers submerge into you, nearly knocking the breath out of you. 

You lean back on your forearms as he begins to piston them into you, your wetness making it easy—too easy even. They slip out when he speeds up, and he makes up for it by eating you out and sinking his fingers back in simultaneously. 

You’re shaking, unable to hold yourself up any longer. Your back rests on the wooden planks as Jungkook flicks your clit with his tongue, his fingers drilling into you at a brutal speed and brushing your sweet spot. 

You see the last of the fireworks show go off, a beautiful explosion of silver sparkles and stars, as your orgasm finally comes. You arch your back and scream, but Jungkook doesn’t slow down. He can feel how tight your walls are constricting around his fingers and knows you need a few more seconds of bliss to be fully satisfied. 

Overstimulation was always a gamble. If pushed too far, you’d be in pain. But most of the time you welcome it. One second you want the pleasure to stop building, but then you crave that ache of clenching so hard until your body gives out. 

Jungkook stops again. This time he pulls himself out of the water completely and hovers over your body. His fingers plunge into you again, his speed relentless, and you swear you’re seeing stars (or maybe that’s the fireworks who knows). Your eyes roll to the back of your head and you say his name like a mantra.

“Come for me, beautiful. I want you dripping in my hand again.”

Your eyes are wide when warm lips are pressed against your own. But you submit and savor it, having missed his touch. Combining that with the way he curls his fingers inside makes you squirt. Hard. 

Your entire body convulses and you can’t even scream because Jungkook is determined to swallow them. The limitation only makes you come harder than before. Then again, you’re not sure if this is a second orgasm or a drawn-out first one. 

The involuntary gushing is an indescribable sudden wave of pleasure. You feel so relieved from the release, pushed to tears at how good it felt. Jungkook pulls away a centimeter to let you breathe, and you submit to the foreign feeling.

Oh my god, he made me squirt. I didn’t even know that was possible. 

He pulls his soaked fingers out and resumes kissing you, moving his lips in rhythm to yours. It’s so natural, almost like he’s done this before. Well, he has, but it felt so right. So loving. So… intimate. 

You place a hand on his chest and give him a gentle push. He pulls back a little, a melancholy look passing his face. 

“Will you stay?”

You can’t. He’s not supposed to be tangled up with you again. You erased his love for you for a reason; it wasn’t the right time. Any decisions made till now were because of your heat and your brain was finally back in command. 

“I can’t.”

He caresses your cheek. “Why not?”

Because I’m not ready to love you the way you deserve. Because I love you so much that I’m afraid things will fall apart again. 

“Because we don’t know each other,” You push him off you and stand, trying not to slip. Jungkook’s hands were already in position to catch you if you did. “Not really.”

As you walk away, he says something so chilling that it crystalizes your blood into ice. “You’re running away again.” 

You refuse to turn around. “It’s my choice.”

“What about my choice and what I want? Do you not care?” He stands up and tightens his fists. “Are you leaving for good this time?”

This… time? He doesn’t remember. He can’t remember.

“Goodbye, Jungkook.”

He watches as your figure grows smaller in the distance. His head hangs low and he fights back tears. You’ve made it clear what you want. He had to let you go.

A/N: I am currently writing part 2, don't worry! It's a long one, lol. This was also my first time writing in present tense. Loved it. I hope you enjoyed it too. Thank you for giving my writing a chance. 🥰

[fanwarriorfictions]

Not Again - Epilogue

Summary: What classifies home? For them, it was each other.

Warnings: small bit of angst, mostly fluff

Series Masterlist

-Epilogue-

There was a shift in the air, so subtle that it could’ve been passed off as a breeze through a cracked window. It was just enough to wake Y/n from a deep sleep, Azriel’s shadows caressing her skin as she rose despite the male being dead asleep beside her.

The sky was still dark as Y/n pried herself from Azriel’s grip, untwining their legs, pushing away the hands that try and keep her pinned to his chest. The male didn’t wake up as she finally slipped from their bed, searching the floor for his shirt and her own underwear to cover her bare skin. He didn’t wake, not even as she slipped from their room, a shadow or two following her out.

Their little town house was quiet, nothing out of place, no sign of that shift in the air. Maybe it was just an open window, maybe she hadn’t latched the one in the kitchen where she’d cooled the pie she baked for dinner. Elain had been teaching her new recipes, Y/n was testing them out on Azriel, who finally admitted he also had a sweet tooth, after years of denial.

The house had been a gift from their family, the first few months after the gate had closed had been hard for Y/n. She was happy, so unbelievably happy with her mate, but she’d find herself back in that room, staring at that empty arch, waiting for anything to happen, waiting for her family to step through.

More than once, Nesta had found her sitting there, the busybody of a house guiding its owner to her to check on her. Nesta had sat with her, had listened to Y/n talk through her conflicting feelings, she’d been the one to suggest to Feyre that they needed a new place, somewhere not haunted with memories and what ifs.

After several years living here, she didn’t need any lights to find her way down the steps and into the kitchen. The window was indeed open, the small crack letting in the winter air beyond. She breathed it in, a small smile on her lips at the familiar feeling. Terrasen would be covered by several feet of snow this time of year, similar to the mountains of Illryia, where her mate had grown up and trained.

He’d brought her to Windhaven and other villages throughout the territory several times, usually against his will when Rhys asked them to check on the Illryians, to watch over the female’s training. Y/n knew that Azriel despised the place, she understood why, he’d rarely experienced kindness while he was growing up, not until his brothers had found him. Yet Azriel had bared it, for the females they were fighting for, and for her. The mountains reminded her of home, the snow, the trees, all of it. He’d made them a cabin there among the pine trees, a place she could go when she was especially homesick.

Y/n latches the window, overlooking the small garden behind her home, the towering red cliffs far beyond it. She could see the house of wind high in the starry sky, a few windows lit up by flickering lights from fireplaces inside keeping the home warm.

There, Nesta and Cassian would wake in a few hours, just before dawn broke to eat breakfast and prepare for the day. Y/n and Azriel would fly up to the training grounds atop the cliffs for their daily sessions with the them and the rest of the Valkyries. Then she and Gwyn would go into the library to study and work, Azriel would kiss her goodbye and several hours later he would wait for by the door to take her home.

Silent as ever, she doesn’t notice him until his strong arms were wrapping around her waist, tucking her into his chest. Azriel is practically a furnace at her back, a welcoming feeling in the winter kissed room.

She sighs, letting her head fall back against his bare chest, looking up at her mate. He’s perfectly disheveled, hair messy from sleep and from her hands running through the waves, his neck a constellation of bruises, surrounding the crescent shaped scar of her teeth, a mating gift. His eyes are still heavy, like he’d barely woken up, just knew that she had left, blindly following her.

“Where’d you go, my love.”

He presses a gentle kiss to the top of her head, lingering for a few moments.

She smiles softly at him, “Just forgot to close the window.”

He glances through the glass, where she’d been staring off, he found nothing, “Come back to bed, Princess.”

Y/n couldn’t help but look back out at the garden, at the city, at the cliffs, as if there was something out there begging her to check one more time. Azriel doesn’t persist, he lets her take her time, but he does rest his head on her shoulder, a gentle reminder that the shadowsinger was still half asleep. He would never rush her, but he nuzzles her neck, kissing one of his own claiming marks, the dark purple bruise directly above her pulse.

She sighs, tilting her head to give him better access, “Fine.”

It’s all he needs to pull away, just to sweep her up into his arms, strong and steady despite his sleepy state.

Y/n laughs quietly, “So needy.”

He doesn’t pause his steps towards their bedroom to lean down and capture her lips in a chaste kiss, “You’ve spoiled me to long, Princess, I can’t sleep with out you.”

“Big Illryian baby,” she coos, giving him one more kiss before resting her head on his shoulder.

They walk up the stairs, and into their room. Azriel gently lays her down on her side of the bed before laying down beside her. He tucks the blankets around both of them, pulling her to his side as he settled into the pillows behind him.

In the safety of his arms, Y/n finds it easy to fall back to sleep, dreaming of a night sky, full of constellations, a beautiful stag smiling down on her.

Far above them, the house of wind stirs. A room, long since dark and empty, lights. If anyone had been watching they would have seen a green light in the window.

Nesta had stirred at the familiar feeling, running to that room that hadn’t moved in the last ten years. She was hopeful, but cautious, Ataraxia in her hand.

The green light flowed through the door way as she rounded the corner. The gate was shining with that bright green light, familiar yet different. And there, standing in the middle of the room was a beautiful female she didn’t recognize.

She examines the room with mute curiosity, and Nesta notices a simple blade strapped to her back, a scrap of red fabric tied to the hilt.

“Who are you.” Nesta levels her own blade at the female, “What are you doing here.”

Her golden gaze halts its lazy search of the room, slowly dragging towards Nesta as if she just noticed her. There was something unsettling about the female, like something lurked below her skin, the beauty a disguise for the monster beneath.

Her head tilts in a way that has Nesta’s instincts reaching for her power, “I’m here to collect my niece, witchling.”

The white hair, golden eyes, Nesta raises a single brow, “Manon?”

The witch queen smiles, and those iron teeth slide into place, “I hope she only told you the good stories.”

“Depends on your classification of good.”

Azriel woke to a gentle tap on his mental shields. He was hesitant to open them, he knew what his brother had to say would make him get up and leave the warmth of his mate’s arms. The gentle taps turned persistent, like Rhys knew he was ignoring him.

What? Azriel sighs, Is the world ending before the sun has a chance to rise?

Not quite, Rhys laughs, But it would seem you and Y/n are needed at the house of wind.

Azriel sits up, For?

You’ll see.

Rhys doesn’t give him a chance to respond. Azriel looks at his mate, sleeping peacefully by his side. Her hair is a mess, and her lips are parted, letting out the softest snores. He hates to wake her, half because she looks adorable like this, the other half, because she got grouchy when woken up. He’d learned that the hard way.

So he did it the one way he knew would work. Azriel pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, then her temple, her cheeks, her nose. Each kiss had her whining in her sleep until she was slowly stirring.

“Good morning, Princess,” he whispers, lightly pressing his lips to hers. “You’ve got to wake up.”

She hums against him, “No I don’t.”

Azriel smiles, pushing a wild piece of hair behind her ear, “Yes, you do.”

Y/n nuzzles into his palm, “I don’t want to.”

“I know, my love.” His lips travel across her jaw, down her throat, “We’ve been summoned.”

She sighs, tilting her head back as his lips explored her neck, “Tell Rhys to suck it up, he can summon me when the sun wakes up.”

Azriel laughs, nipping at the sensitive skin around her pulse, relishing in the small noise she makes, “I’m sure he wouldn’t ask me to risk my life waking you if it wasn’t important.”

Finally her eyes open, glaring up at him as he pulls away, “I’m not a feral animal you need to poke with a stick.”

Azriel smirks, “No, I wouldn’t say a feral animal, maybe a domesticated one, like a fussy cat.”

She hisses, baring those lethal canines, and Azriel leans down to kiss her, not scared of those sharp teeth, even when she lightly bites him. He just smiles against her lips.

You two are taking your time, Rhys butts into his mind, Tell Y/n the sun is coming up, no excuses anymore.

He doesn’t even open his mouth to relay the words, before Y/n is already snarling, “Tell him he’s a prick.”

His high lord simply laughs in his mind, before disappearing completely.

The dawn broke as they flew to the house of wind, the sun peaking out over the horizon, desperately trying to warm the snow covered city below. It did little to keep them from freezing, so they flew fast.

The house welcomes them with a warm embrace when they enter, and it’s far from quiet. Voices tumble out of the main living space, and one stops her dead in her tracks.

“No you cannot ride Abraxos.”

Cassian groans, “But-“

“No.”

“Who is that?” Azriel takes her hand in his, noting the way her whole body starts to shake.

She doesn’t respond, only pulls him towards the room, she sees Cassian first, wings flared like he was ready to fight. And there, standing like she couldn’t care less about the giant Illryian before her, was Manon.

Those golden eyes slide to her, and a smile lights the witch queen’s face, “Hello, witchling.”

Faces turned to her Rhys, Cassian, and Nesta, she searched for more, searched for any sign of her parents.

“They’re not here,” Manon says, “I didn’t waste time sending for them, I came as soon as the mirror opened.”

“Mirror?” Y/n asks breathlessly.

Manon pulls a small object from her pocket, a witch mirror. They were few and far between, she’d only seen two growing up, the sister-glasses her and Dorian used to talk when they were apart. This one was similar to those, but engraved into the edges were Wyrd marks.

She read a few of them, most where protective marks, shields. But there, right on top, was the mark she’d made to open the gates, the simple archway.

Azriel examines the mirror over her shoulder, in its reflection she can see his furrowed brows low over his deep hazel eyes.

“As soon as they told me that you’d been taken through a gate I had every witch in my kingdom looking for a way to bring you back,” Manon explains, “And when Dorian had returned, told me that you had stayed in this world, I kept looking. While he was squandered away in his libraries studying those dusty old books, I flew through the world looking for a witch who could make me a mirror no one had ever made before.

“It took many years, many trials, and many broken mirrors,” Manon says, “But we finally made this one, it’s sister-glass is back home, holding my gate open, hiding it from prying eyes.”

Beside her, Azriel speaks softly, “How does it work?”

Manon eyes him, and Y/n has a brief moment of panic as to what the witch might do. The others seemingly have a similar reaction, Cassian none to subtly resting a hand on a dagger at his side. Manon notes the movement and glares at the male.

“It only requires a drop of blood to open the gate,” she says, voice tense like she was holding back her iron teeth, “Simply think of the place you wish to go and the gate will open. It will stay as long as you wish it.”

Y/n felt like laughing and crying all at once. She could go home, could live her life with her mate by her side, could come to her home in Velaris whenever she liked.

She didn’t think, just surged forward and flung her arms around Manon. The witch didn’t snap her iron teeth, didn’t scratch her with those metal claws, she simply wrapped her arms around Y/n and held tight.

“I’ve missed you too, witchling.”

Her whole body is shaking, joyful tears welling in her eyes. When they part, Azriel is there to keep her on her feet, he always was there for her, always would be.

She knew it was something that ate away at Azriel these years, that she stayed for him, that he hadn’t gone for her. It was a conversation they’d had many times, he had no reason to feel guilty, she’d made her choice, and she didn’t regret it at all. Azriel was needed here, there were many things he hadn’t told her those months when she’d first arrived, human queens threatening war, fae from the continent stirring, ancient beings in lakes. They’d dealt with those things together, spying and fighting and killing.

Y/n loved her home, missed it terribly, but she had found her mate, found her own story to tell, found her purpose beyond being a spoiled princess. Her parents reign was far from over, her own was in the far distant future. She believed that she would one day find her way back to Terrasen, and now it was happening.

“Can I see the mirror?”

Manon holds it out to her, “It is yours, use it wisely.”

Y/n held the glass, looking at that small archway carved into the mirror. Behind her, Azriel is smiling, stepping back to give her space. He stands between his brothers, nodding once, whispering down that bridge of shadow, Go home, Princess.

She grins, bringing her thumb to her sharp canine, biting down just enough to draw a little blood. Y/n pictures Orynth, the castle, her parents, and she presses her thumb right on that Wyrd mark.

Green light flairs, shining through the mirror to the floor at her feet, and before her, like a window between worlds, opens a gate. And there, sitting right where she knew they would take their breakfast, her parents, both standing at the ready, to fight, to defend. Yet they don’t find any threat, their eyes wide as they met her own.

“Oh gods,” her mother sobs.

And Y/n is running, wind pushing at her heels, she feels the exact moment she passes through the gate, like the magic in her blood sighs in relief. Her mother meets her halfway, colliding hard enough to steal the breath from her lungs. Before they have the chance to fall, her father is there, wrapping both of them in his arms, holding them steady.

Y/n can barely breathe, they hold her so tight, and she holds just as tightly.

“How?” Aelin asks through her tears.

“I got sick of waiting for you all,” Manon says behind them.

She walks through the gate, leaving Prythian behind, the three Illryian males and Nesta as well.

Rowan looks to the witch, his voice thick with emotion, “thank you.”

Manon nods simply, “It was time my niece came home.”

Aelin pulls away, her hands resting on Y/n’s cheeks, “I’ve missed you, my Fireheart, every single day.”

“I missed you too,” Y/n sobs, looking up to her father, “both of you, so much.”

Rowan doesn’t speak, only places a gentle kiss to her head, holding her tightly, like she’d disappear at any moment. Y/n holds just as tightly to them both. For several minutes, that’s all they can do, none of them willing to let go. Only when Manon clears her throat does Rowan pull back, Aelin is more hesitant to release her hold.

Her father’s eyes move behind her, Y/n looks back to find his gaze on the portal, on Azriel stepping through tentatively. Her heart gallops in her chest as her father walks to her mate, that calm mask over both of their faces.

Rowan stops before him, offering his hand like he had the last time they’d seen each other. Azriel carefully takes the hand, shaking it once, and then her father pulls him into an embrace.

“Thank you,” Rowan says, “For taking care of her.”

Azriel, to her surprise, hugs him back, and her heart almost burst in her chest, “Always.”

Aelin pulls back, wiping the tears from her eyes as she looks through the gate at the three fae still standing there, “Would you care for a tour?”

Rhys grins, “Can I grab my mate before we begin? She’d love to see it.”

“Of course,” Aelin smiles, looking back at Y/n with her eyes shining, “Bring everyone, you’re all family now.”

His family had jumped at the opportunity to tour the vast castle, and the beautiful city surrounding it. He’d stayed by Y/n’s side, watching her tell stories of her childhood home. They’d encountered many of her family on the way, Cassian had almost jumped Lorcan on sight, only stopped by Nesta at his side. Each reunion left Azriel feeling raw.

She’d given all of this up for him, no matter how many times she’d reassured him that it was her choice, and she chose him gladly, he still felt that guilt, he tried to hide it, but she always knew, even without the bond to tell her.

“Come with me,” she whispers in his ear, taking his hand in hers, “I want to show you something.”

He put on that mask, hoping she wouldn’t see through it, see the thoughts eating away at him.

Azriel smiles down at her, “Lead the way, Princess.”

They leave their families in the training grounds, where Cassian was getting closer and closer to wearing Lorcan down for that fight he was itching to have. No one noticed them, and if they did, they didn’t stop them.

She brought him back into the castle, pulling him up the huge grand staircase.

“Where are we going?” Azriel asks.

She sends him one of those sweet little smiles, “Just wait and you’ll see.”

Y/n takes him through several hallways, each of them grand and decorated with gorgeous paintings. Feyre would love to take her time looking at every single one. He didn’t have that time to admire them, his mate’s pace rushing them past each one.

They finally stopped at a set of doors, tall, white doors with golden handles. She takes her hand from his to open each of them, revealing a huge room.

He instantly knew it was her own, her scent still clings to the space, despite her decade long absence.

The sitting room is decorated with well loved chairs, pillows and blankets draped over them, surrounding a large fireplace, the mantle decorated with flowers and trinkets.

There’s a piano in the corner, it looked near identical to the one she bought for their house, she’d been teaching him to play for the past few years, he could finally carry a tune.

Y/n moves through the space, running her fingers over her desk full of papers, “It’s exactly how I left it.”

Azriel follows her, closing the doors behind him, she walks through the space, towards the door that leads to her bedroom. And beyond that, a balcony.

She opens the doors, stepping out onto the ice and snow covered stone, he follows her and he looks out over the city below. Beautiful, it was absolutely breathtaking. The city was alive with music and laughter, much like Velaris. Azriel looked out over the horizon, he could see all the way to the Oakwald forest, the ancient magic singing to him even from here.

“I didn’t give anything up,” she says quietly, entwining their hands between them, “I made my choice, and I gained everything.”

Azriel couldn’t speak, so he squeezed her hand, begging her to continue. She turns, placing her other hand on his chest, directly over his heart.

“I didn’t lose my crown, my life, it’s all still here,” she says, looking out over Orynth, “and I found my home. Not through a gate, but with you, Az.”

He could only look at her, could only admire his beautiful mate. This female, who’d fallen into his life, who’d stood toe to toe with him and won, stealing the heart from his chest. Y/n had chosen him, and he would chose her for the rest of his life.

“Where’d you go, shadowsinger?”

Azriel brought his free hand to her face, holding his world in the palm of his hand. When he kisses her, everything feels right, feels perfect. And for the first time in his life, he felt like he truly belonged somewhere, and that somewhere was with her, wherever she was.

“Home, Princess.”

Tag list

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[fortisfilia]

Promised Part 17 - Tom Riddle x reader

Info: This is a rewrite of a story I've posted on my old account years ago. If it sounds familiar, that might be why :)

Summary: In this story, Tom didn't grow up as an orphan, but with his grandfather and uncle. Reader's sister got very sick and the Gaunts offer their help. But not without asking for something in return.

Warnings: none, finally

Word count: 1.3k

Masterpost | Masterlist | Part 16

Part 17 - Epilogue

The year after the incident at the chapel in Ramsbury went by very uneventfully compared to your last year at Hogwarts and the weeks after, even though so much was changing. Boring was certainly not the right word to describe it. Everyone involved had wished for a bit of peace and was more than happy to live a quiet life for a bit.

Marvolo’s body had been buried appropriately. A small bribe had been enough to make the Mediwizard who had examined him confirm that he had died naturally, of old age. He had been right after all, they must have really been a bunch of quacks in St. Mungos.

Morfin wasn’t to be found anywhere. Gaunt Manor had been empty, apart from the two house elves, when Tom and you had gone there. He must have apparated to the manor after Nagini had attacked him, however. A great amount of Galleons and some potions were missing when his chambers were searched. Hokey and Scrook wouldn’t tell anyone what they had seen - they were still loyal to their Masters. They didn’t want to be freed either, even begged not to be given proper clothes. So Tom gave them to Hepbzibah Smith, an old witch who was known to be an avid collector of magical antiquities and was looking for elves to serve her.

Since Morfin wasn’t there to inherit any of Marvolo’s riches, they were passed down to Tom directly. He owned Gaunt Manor now, as well as the mountains of Galleons that were locked up in the Gaunt’s vaults at Gringotts. While Gaunt Manor had been tempting to pack your bags and move into, neither of you fancied the thought. The house was linked to countless haunting memories for Tom and despite its enormous size, it was way too cold and rigid for your liking - too stark a reminder of the Gaunts themselves. 

So Tom sold it to a wealthy family, muggles as far as you were aware, which must have made Marvolo turn over in his grave one last time.

Tom bought a house in your home town shortly after, smaller yet still as boastful as you had expected it to be. It even had a telephone installed, which you didn’t mention to him after you had given him a look when you had seen it, to which he had just shrugged and rolled his eyes. 

You didn’t move in with him immediately, as your parents didn’t allow you to leave your home unmarried. They allowed you to visit him, though, and you did so as often as possible. 

Life had gone on as it always did and you had gotten a job right after school. The Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers had reached out after they had seen your grades and had received a letter from Professor Slughorn. They had asked if you wanted to be trained to become a Potions Master, which was an honour, not many witches and wizards were granted with. It hadn’t taken long for you to accept, so you were in close contact with one of their tutors, a witch by the name of Guiliana Toffana.

Tom had taken on a desk job for the Ministry, which paid well even if it wasn’t the most exciting work to do. He had plans though, wanted to work himself to the top one day. And for all you knew, there was no one stopping him from doing so.

Camille had started working as an assistant at Ollivander’s Wand Shop in Diagon Alley. The year had been hard to bypass for her, as she wasn’t able to see Ben as often. They sent each other owls almost daily and the only thing you worried about was that none of you were in Hogwarts anymore to help Ben out with Herbology. Tom had suggested that your little sister Elsie could help him study, as she had started her first year and had been sorted into Gryffindor. 

On 1st July 1946, one year and one day after your almost-wedding, Tom invited you over to his house. You would have lied if you had said you weren’t expecting it. And he met your expectations by getting down on one knee. He asked you to marry him again, 366 days after he had done so the first time. And your answer was different now.

Just a few weeks later - you would never have thought it possible to organise a wedding so quickly, well, what a bit of pocket money can do - the big day had come.

It couldn’t have been more different from the day in Ramsbury. Your whole family, even the distant aunts and cousins, as well as all of your friends had been invited. Everyone gathered in a small castle north of the Peckforton Hills in Cheshire, where the ceremony and subsequent celebrations were to take place. Even muggles would have described the place as magical. Its old walls and lush, green lawn inside the courtyard reminded you of Hogwarts a lot. 

You wore an elegant white dress, not Mother’s, but one you had picked out yourself. One last look into the mirror before the ceremony would begin and, you even had to admit to yourself, you had never looked better. 

Father had to help to calm you down before you entered the chapel with him. Walking down the aisle with the music playing and all eyes fixated on you was scarier than fighting the Gaunts had been. But Father was there by your side, leading you up to the altar safely.

And the moment you spotted Tom waiting for you there, all nerves were soothed. He bit his lip while you approached him slowly, his eyes wandering up and down your figure. A smile, one that even reached his eyes, formed on his face and didn’t seem to leave after he had taken in the sight. 

Ben, his best man, stood behind him, and only watched Camille, your maid of honour, from the side as tears of joy ran down her face.

The officiant’s speech got drowned out by your thoughts, as you lost yourself in Tom’s eyes, standing face to face with him in front of all of the guests. The way he looked back at you, deeply but still collected, sent your mind drifting.

Love surely wasn’t like it was described inside a book, no, but when the people involved were honest and trusting, it could turn out to be even better than words were able to ever describe it. You both had changed so much since you had gotten close. And you were going to change with every day that you would spend together. There was much work to be done still, many compromises to be made and a lot of healing yet to start. But you were sure that with an open heart and a tiny bit of luck, you were going to make it. And you couldn’t wait. 

Time had passed by so quickly until now and it would pass by equally as fast from now on. Every day was just another grain of sand falling down the hourglass that was life. But now that every grain had Tom in it, they seemed to drop differently. Happier, more meaningful and full of expectation for what’s to come. Every grain was to be cherished and the two of you promised that to each other when you both said the words. “I do.”

The end. 

Masterpost | Masterlist

Tags: @ariachaos @daardyrnitta

[downthe-f4ndom-rabbith0le]

The Way Back Home (Spencer Reid x Reader) - Chapter One

The Way Back Home (Spencer Reid x Reader) - Chapter One Reader Insert: she/her pronouns Word Count: 4867 Warnings: major angst, major fluff, mentions of murder, graphic descriptions of dead bodies, crime scenes, near-death experiences, slow-burnish romance, death, canon violence, rape, swearing, guns, knives, prostitution, canon cuteness of the team. Spoilers: Maeve's death, mentions of previous cases or canon events from seasons 1-10.

Spencer and you have an unspoken connection with one another. Nothing has ever happened between you two, especially since everything went down with Maeve, but your love has grown and overcome and is now clear as day to everyone. However, just when Spencer builds up enough courage to ask you out officially, you're requested on an undercover mission that halts your budding relationship in its tracks.

Months go by without a word from you until bodies of prostitutes start showing up in New York and the BAU is brought in to help. Spencer and you finally reunite as both your cases collide, but your lives and your love are both on the line now.

Will you and Spencer be able to find the way back home this time?

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Epilogue

~~~

In the bedroom of his apartment, Spencer fiddled with his tie as he looked in the mirror. He didn't know why he bothered though, it was always perpetually crooked. Something you always tease him about.

Teased.

He clenched his jaw at your memory. It had been eleven months since you'd left. Eleven. Months. You just... up and disappeared without a call or a note. Heck, he would've taken a text despite his adversity to how it was inevitably devolving people's interpersonal communication skills.

When he'd shown up to the office on Monday, he expected to see your dazzling figure with two coffees in hand - one for yourself and one for him - and that infamous bright smile on your lips. He hated to admit it, but he'd become reliant on you to always be there. You had only joined three years after he had, around a similar to time to Emily (who had been like a big sister to you), but even after others came and went, you had always stayed.

You had stayed with him. By him. He selfishly thought sometimes it was for him.

So when Hotch had informed him and the rest of the team that you had been offered another position with a different unit across the country, he shouldn't have been all that surprised that you had jumped at the chance to do something more than what you were doing at the BAU.

Again, selfishly, he thought that what you both did would be enough for you. It was for him.

He should've been happy for you despite how shocking the news came. But instead he was struck with an odd sense of open-endedness - no closure. If you were leaving, you would've said something... right? He wasn't the best at recognising social cues or reading people's emotions, but he couldn't have mistaken the smile you'd given him when he'd asked you out that night. It was joyous, it was relief, it was overwhelming excitement for the future. There could've been no faking that you felt what he felt and wanted what he wanted.

His fingers dropped from his tie, seeing no point in trying to fix it any further. Instead, his gaze drifted to his hair. It was long again, unruly curls caressing the top of his neck and tucked as neatly as possible behind his ears. You would always play with those curls as you gave him head massages when he was having his migraines, and kept the habit up whenever Spencer was stressed or tired. It helped him relax, it soothed him.

The image of you pouting whenever he got his hair cut short and close-cropped tugged his lips slightly upwards. He smoothed back the curls on his forehead. He had a random thought to just shave them all off. They were just another reminder of how much time had passed since you'd left.

He raised an eyebrow at himself in the mirror.

He wondered if he could rock the bald egg look.

He grimaced at the thought and shook his head. What the hell am I doing? He rubbed at his tired eyes before looking at his wrist watch briefly. He had to be in the office in just over an hour. So he quickly grabbed a suit jacket from his closet, but decided halfway to the kitchen that he would need extra warmth today and so turned around to grab a cardigan from his messy chest of draws.

He winced at the chaos of colours and material he found waiting for him. For a highly organised, intelligent man, he really could be a complete mess.

He wasn't looking for any particular one, but he absentmindedly sought out the regal navy blue one you'd gifted to him on one birthday. It was the most worn in his collection by far, having worn it multiple times a week (sometimes even consecutively) in the past eleven months. He fiddled with the soft material for a moment, and he swore he could still smell your perfume on it.

Vanilla Caramel and Peonies. An odd combination, but just the right balance of sweetness and freshness.

It was the right balance of you.

She's not coming back, he told himself, and his broken heart yearned for what could've been once more. He'd called you - well, tried calling you - for days, weeks, months even after you'd left. But he'd just go straight to voice mail, and you had never tried to call him back. It was like six years of working together had never happened, like they had never mattered.

Like he had never mattered.

He shook his head and dropped the cardigan in favour of an emerald green one that his mother had just sent him from one of her travels. It was oddly cold compared to yours, but at least he knew where his mother was and that he was on her mind, no mattered how disorganised it had become.

He wondered if he was still on your mind, wherever you were.

It didn't take him long to put on the green cardigan, grab his lunch from the fridge - it was just leftover Chinese from the takeout place down the street - and lock his apartment up before making his way to work. The drive to the FBI Head Quarters in Quantico was its usual, monotonous route, making it to the highly secured facility in under an hour. He entered the bullpen and went straight for his desk first, placing his satchel bag on it before heading for his safe haven - the break room.

They'd just closed a case yesterday and so he expected to be filling out a lot of reports today. Thus the reason for the copious amounts of sugar in his coffee he was currently making.

'Whoa! Talk about having a sweet tooth. Save some for the rest of us, Reid.'

Spencer looked over his shoulder to see Kate Callahan walking through the door into the break room, an amused and slightly baffled expression morphing her gentle features as she eyed Spencer's coffee making. She walked over beside him to grab a mug from the cupboard and poured herself some coffee from the freshly brewed pot beside Spencer.

Spencer spared her a tight-lipped smile. Not long after you had left, so did Alex. It was like a double blow to Spencer's trust system, with two pillars of reliance being taken away so quickly and without warning. Kate had joined the team soon after that, and Spencer was glad to see the past few months that Kate had slotted in with the team just as nicely.

But she sadly couldn't fill the you-shaped hole in his heart.

'Sorry,' he said, putting the sugar container down finally and began to mix what he could in with the hot coffee. 'Our days started earlier when I first started, and normal coffee just never did the trick for me. Now I can't have it any other way but tooth-rottingly sweet.'

She chuckled as she placed the pot down and drank it straight - no creamer or sugar or milk at all. 'Doesn't worry me. I'm a true espresso gal, but I think Morgan may have some issues if all the sugar somehow disappears.'

'I won't tell if you won't,' Spencer offered, tapping the spoon on the cup's edge before placing it in the sink. He took a tentative sip from the hot drink, and relished at the sweetness that warmed his throat.

Kate winked as she took a sip from her own coffee. 'It'll be our little secret.'

Before either could make a move to return to their desks - where no doubt towers of paperwork were waiting for them - the bright, colourful figure that was Penelope Garcia stopped by the doorway. 'Good morning, my beautiful people,' she said by way of greeting, although her smile didn't reach her eyes like usual. 'I know you all just got back but we've got another case. Roundtable when you're ready.'

Kate sighed with exhaustion but Spencer nodded his understanding. Paperwork soothed him, but he didn't necessarily want to be soothed right now. He wanted action, a distraction, something to physically do. Anything to take his mind off you.

'Looks like paperwork will have to wait,' he said, bounding after Penelope with Kate in tow.

'Don't sound so happy about a dead body, Reid,' Kate suggested.

'You don't know it's dead body,' he argued as he swung by his desk to grab his bag and rejoin Kate to walk towards the Roundtable Room, all the while not spilling his coffee. 'Statistically, it is more likely that there are multiple dead bodies involved considering we don't get called in for singular homicide events very often unless it's a high profile victim, in which case the unsub could be a highly trained assassin or of military background. But those statistics are another collection of data unrelated to serial killing, so it's more likely the case involves a serial killer, and therefore multiple dead bodies.'

The two of them entered the Roundtable Room to find the rest of the team already seated and Penelope standing in front of the screen, ready to present.

'What are we talking about?' JJ asked.

Before Spencer could answer, Kate cut in with, 'You don't want to go down that rabbit hole.'

'Okay, my pretties,' Penelope started, clicking a button to start the presentation. Three pictures of women appeared on the screen, alongside birth certificates and a picture of their dead body. 'We have three dead women: Anna Carswell, Petrina Summers, and Larissa Pembroke; and as you can tell from the pictures, their deaths were very messy. There are signs of sexual violence from what remains of their... um... mutilated nether regions.'

'They were stabbed?' Kate asked, her face pinching with disgust and sadness for the women. Spencer didn't blame her. There was blood everywhere including the walls of the dumpsters they were found in. It was enough to make him squeamish; he couldn't imagine what Kate, JJ and Penelope were possibly feeling.

Penelope nodded grimly. 'Yeah. Anna Carswell was the first victim and was only stabbed five times, but the others both have twelve stab wounds each.'

'So much rage...' JJ mused softly as she examined the pictures.

'That,' Derek started, 'or twelve is a significant number for the unsub.'

'Or he's trying to send a message to someone,' Hotch added. 'Look at her clothes, her shoes, makeup and hair.'

Spencer narrowed his eyes to inspect each area individually, but it didn't take a genius to figure out what Hotch was talking about. 'Styled or big hair; tight-fitting tops, skirts and dresses that leave little to the imagination; significantly high heels; and bold jewellery and makeup,' Spencer listed his observations pragmatically before looking away from the screen to address the others properly. 'I don't want to stereotype, but my guess is that they're prostitutes.'

'And boy wonder wins this round of Guess Who,' Penelope announced. 'All of them worked as prostitutes at popular establishments around Manhattan, but they were so far strung that local police didn't put the killings together until Larissa's body was found last night. The first victim was killed six months ago, but Petrina and Larissa make two in the last month.

'That's a bit of an escalation for the unsub,' Rossi finally said, having been quietly contemplating since Spencer walked in. 'Why the sudden increase in kill time, do you think?'

'Maybe he's impotent,' JJ offered. 'Maybe Anna Carswell was just an accident - see, look at the jagged and varied placement of the stab wounds. And for the past few months he's been trying to repress the urge to kill again, and some recent event has been his stressor.'

'JJ's right, Petrina and Larissa's stab wounds are cleaner, intentional. He's perfecting his craft,' Kate stated.

'Who called it in?' Derek asked.

'The first two victims were found by dumpster guys picking up the trash, but Larissa was found by a homeless man trying to find some food,' Penelope said. 'Local authorities have all callers in at their main office and are expecting you within the next two hours.'

'We'll keep debriefing on the plane,' Hotch said as he stood up, tablet in hand. 'Wheels up in twenty.'

Suddenly his phone pinged, and he took a quick glance at it, his face turning grim.

'What is it, Aaron?' Rossi asked.

Hotch pocketed his phone as he said, 'That was the New York FBI office. They've found another body. Wheels up in ten.'

~~~

Spencer stood across from the coroner with the latest victim's body laying between them.

Roxy Vega. Sounded fake, but that's who her brothel manager identified her as. She was the one to call Roxy in, but said that one of her girls was the one to find her. Spencer and Morgan were to go talk to her and the manager after looking at the body.

'She's the same as the others, poor thing,' the coroner said, her brow scrunching with displeasure. 'Stabbed to death. Twelve, to be exact.'

'Anything from the toxicology report?' Derek asked.

She shook her head. 'Hasn't come back yet, but I can guess she'll be like the others too and be clean. People think prostitutes would be similar to junkies, but the truth is it's usually whoever they're serving that put something in their system to... elevate the experience.'

Spencer and Derek must've been pulling shocked expressions, because she chuckled, putting her clipboard down on a table beside her. 'I used to do some escorting myself to help pay off medical school before I got this job. Nothing extreme like these girls, but the same principles applied.'

Spencer gave her a tight-lipped smile before pointing at the sheet. 'If you don't mind, can I look at the wounds myself?'

'Sure,' the coroner said, and delicately manoeuvred the white sheet covering Roxy so that it covered her upper body still. Even the dead deserved some modesty.

But Spencer wasn't perturbed by her female genitalia. He was more interested in the twelve stab wounds that scarred her lower abdomen and pelvic area. Six side by side in each area.

'That's odd,' he murmured to himself.

But Derek heard him. 'What is?'

Spencer hovered his pointer finger over each wound. 'Look at these,' he said. 'They're almost exactly parallel to one another, all in a row. And the cuts are all the same length, too.'

'Well that rules out our unsub being rageful,' Derek added. 'If he was angry when he killed them, the wounds would no doubt be all over the place, and varied in length if he did it in a frenzy.'

'So our unsub is cool, calm and collected,' Spencer mused, but something still didn't add up. 'There is almost something ritualistic about the placement. Like it's a symbol.'

'Well, he's definitely trying to send a message then,' Derek said, eyes drifting back to Roxy laying on the table. 'But who is it for?'

'And has it been heard yet?' Spencer added. The buzz of his phone prompted him to pull it out of his coat pocket and answer the call.

'Hotch,' he answered. 'Morgan and I have just finished at the morgue. The lines on the latest victim suggests that these could be ritualistic killings or a message to someone or even a group. The stabs were clean so the girls, well Roxy at least, would've been restrained or knocked unconscious before they were stabbed.'

'That changes the profile from a raging serial killer to someone who had these killings premeditated,' Hotch concluded. 'Good work, you two. Head down to the brothel to see the manager and the co-worker who found her. Local authorities took their statements but maybe they know more than they think or are letting on.'

'Okay,' Spencer agreed. 'What are you guys doing?'

'JJ and Kate are talking with the victim's families one at a time and Dave and I are at the headquarters talking with the officers and detectives who started this case. I'll ask them if they noticed the stab wound patterns, see if it means anything to them.'

'We'll call JJ and tell her the same,' Spencer said. 'Maybe the unsub is taunting the parents somehow and the key is in the stab wounds.'

'Okay. Call back when you're done.'

'Got it.'

Spencer hung up and turned to the coroner. 'Thanks so much for your help. If you could send that M.E. report to our unit chief, that'd be most helpful.'

'Of course,' she said, offering a kind smile. 'I'll keep looking for other anomalies, particularly if you think they were somehow restrained or unconscious before they were stabbed.'

'The mass blood spillage was just for show,' Derek said. 'I have a bad feeling these girls weren't stumbled upon by accident. There's more to this, and whoever these stab wounds were meant to warn is the key to solving who is behind all of this.'

Spencer quickly thanked the coroner for her time before he and Derek were out the door and in an SUV driving to downtown Manhattan to the brothel.

The Chateau, despite its name, was just a small sign hanging above a door that needed a fresh coat of paint about ten years prior. No doubt the sign would light up neon at night to draw in the locusts that were cheating husbands or deadbeat wannabes. But it was located on a busy street, and daylight made it look unassuming compared to the big billboards and towering office buildings around it. Just a hole in the wall, really.

'This place looks like a dump already,' Derek said as they examined the outside. Posters advertising all kinds of entertainment from the establishment were pinned to billboards either side of the door and down the wall where people stood in line to get in perhaps. But they were torn, like flyers from a travelling circus long ago.

'That's probably a strategic method,' Spencer said. 'It's what many opium dens in Shanghai used to do back in the 1920s to avoid law enforcement suspicion. Of course, brothels and even opium dens are legal today, but they now act as the fronts for more illicit dealings.'

'Right,' Derek said, reaching out for the door handle tentatively. 'Let's just hope that isn't the case today. We've got enough to worry about with four dead girls let alone some underground, black market bullshit.'

Derek wasted no more time in opening the door and stepping inside, Spencer right on his heels. But as soon as the daylight faded and their eyes readjusted, they both gaped at what met them inside.

Lavish gold and black velvet carpet lined the floors, swirling in intricate, flowery designs that made Spencer feel dizzy for a second. A settee sat to their left in a small alcove where gold curtains were pulled back, but Spencer took a guess as to why they would be closed at certain points. All the furniture were beautifully crafted pieces with a black gloss layer and gold lining certain edges that sparkled in the low light from the victorian style lamps hanging on the walls.

It scared Spencer how accurate he had sort of been. It felt like he was in a 1920s film noir club where gangsters met up to make and complete deals. Where they smoked cigars, and the showgirls wore sparkly, frilly, feathery dresses and patterned pantyhose. In the back of his mind, Spencer knew it was a brothel, that the gold and sparkles were just a front, but he couldn't help but be impressed by the attention to detail. Right down to the artwork that hung on the walls, all of which were from famous painters from the time period.

'They're amazing, aren't they?'

Spencer spun alongside Derek at the new, commanding voice that entered the room, and found a woman in her late forties to early fifties standing by a podium where the registry would no doubt sit each night for customers to sign in and out of. He had to give it to the establishment, it was committed to the act.

'Y-Yes,' he stuttered an answer, looking back at the painting in front of him. 'It looks like- I'm sorry, but are these the real thing?'

She laughed heartily as she sashayed over to them, the bellowing arms of her white, silk sleeves flowing gracefully with her movements. 'Goodness, no. The real ones are more than likely in a museum somewhere or hanging above the bed of some rich bimbo who doesn't understand what it is or who even painted it.' Despite the malice in her words, her red lips parted in a sultry grin. 'But alas, these do just fine. As do you, might I say.'

Spencer didn't like how her eyes raked over him and Derek ever so slowly, like she was some predator contemplating what part of her prey she should consume first. This is what JJ, Kate and Penelope must feel most of the time, he thought, averting his eyes as best as possible from the woman's snake-like ones.

He decidedly did not like the feeling it gave him.

Sensing his partner's discomfort, Derek reached into his jean pocket and pulled out his badge. 'Thank you, but we're here on official business only today.'

Those snake-eyes latched onto the badge, and it only took her half a second for her sultry smile to drop and to cross her arms. But not out of embarrassment, more like how a child did when they didn't get what they want. 'So you're the FBI agents I was told was visiting me today. How charming.' She held out hand to Derek, and Spencer couldn't help but notice how bare it was compared to rest of her. Long dangling emeralds hung from her ears, matching the beautiful emerald necklace around her neck. But no rings, or bracelets.

Odd.

'I'm Madame Lacroix,' she said, Derek finally taking her hand. 'I am the manager of The Chateau.'

She held her hand out to Spencer, to which he awkwardly splayed his hands up by his chest in a mock surrender. 'I, uh, actually don't do handshakes, sorry. Just a personal thing.'

Madame Lacroix looked him up and down from over her nose, which was an impressive act as she stood a good head shorter than him. After a moment, she dropped her hand and the matter, turning back to Derek once more.

'Madame,' Derek started. 'We just want to ask a few questions about Roxy Vega. We understand she was... one of your own for a while now. Is that correct?'

'Yes,' she answered, her painted face taking on a contemplative, even fond expression at the mention of Roxy. 'She'd been with us around eleven months. Some of the girls were supposed to take her out this coming weekend to celebrate. Geez, did those girls love partying.'

'How so?' Spencer inquired.

That snake-like gaze whipped back to him in an instant. 'They would have weekends away once every couple of months. Fancy yachts, expensive clothes, gourmet restaurants. One time, they went to the Greek Isles for a week.' She shrugged nonchalantly. 'But they could always pay for it. My girls are the best at what they do. So much so they are able to pay me and keep a good amount of earnings for themselves. And before you ask, everything is perfectly legal here, I have papers.'

'We're not really interested in that, Madame Lacroix,' Derek continued. 'You say Roxy was part of a, shall we say, an exclusive group in your establishment.'

'If you're implying that I play favourites, I don't, agent,' Madame Lacroix said, her tone dancing with silent threat. 'All my girls work the same hours, and relatively earn the same amount. It's completely on them if they decide to form friendships or alliances wth one another.'

'Was the girl who found her in that group too?' Spencer asked for Derek.

She nodded. 'Usually, Roxy and her girls don't let newcomers into their group. And if they do, it's not until they're a few months into working here. But yeah, Serena was pulled into that group from the moment she got here only three months ago.'

'Do you know where she was before The Chateau?' Derek asked.

'Yeah, she was uptown at a strip club, Guilty Pleasure. I know the guy who runs the place, and I don't blame her for leaving.'

Guilty Pleasure. The name rung familiar with Spencer, and so he pulled Derek away a little to whisper in his ear. 'That's the club Larissa used to work at.'

'And what are the odds that Larissa is now dead?' Derek added, eyes lighting with recognition. He quickly turned back to Madame Lacroix, urgency written on his face. 'Madame, there have been three other girls found in similar fashions to Roxy.'

For the first time since she entered the room, she didn't appear in control of everything happening. Her face dropped and a look of confusion and shock reflected in her eyes. 'Three other girls? Oh my goodness...'

'If you'd like, we can continue this talk in your office?' Derek offered, to which she nodded and began walking towards the podium, which Spencer now realised was in front of twin staircases heading downwards either side.

'I usually conduct private business at night, so my office is down in the Pit where I can make sure my girls are okay,' she explained as they descended into the a dimly lit bar reminiscent of the roaring 20s.

A giant glass chandelier hung in the middle of the ceiling, providing enough light to see the retro bar to the left, the cabaret setup of chairs and tables that faced the small stage at the far end of the room, and the empty booths where more settees and lounges sat with curtains drawn back for now. Again, Spencer was struck by how much it felt like stepping back in time. It was truly impressive.

Spencer halted, however, when Madame Lacroix stopped and turned back to face them, genuine concern furrowing her perfectly plucked brows. 'You don't think Serena has anything to do with this. Do you?' she asked.

'We don't know that for certain,' Derek answered. 'But we would like to have a talk with her so we can start clearing up this mess. Do you know where we can find her?'

She nodded, then pointed to a door over their shoulders. 'She's here doing stocktake for me today, actually. She does so on occasion when my workmen are busy with other jobs. A load just came in this morning. You can found her sorting through it out back in the loading bay.'

'Thank you,' Spencer said before turning to speak with Derek. 'I'll go talk with her while you finish here.'

'Shout if something goes wrong, okay?' Derek warned, to which Spencer agreed and made his way to the back door.

He couldn't stop his nose from scrunching as the scent of rotten food and heavy alcohol wafted up it. Giant bins were pressed against the far corner of the loading bay, but it wasn't a very big room, so the smell was easily detected.

Looks like the stocktake room doubles as the bin room, he thought as he stepped further into the bay, where crates were stacked taller than him with food, glassware, alcohol. Amongst the stacks was a shuffling of feet, then a hard thud that resulted in a harsh cry and an 'Ouch!'

'Hello?' Spencer called out while searching his way through the stacks. What did a brothel need with so much stuff anyways? 'Serena?'

'Over here!' a heavy Brooklyn accent replied. Spencer followed the voice, finding a hunched over woman cradling her exposed toe. She wore burnt orange platform wedges with jeans and a white tank top that left little to the imagination of a one Dr. Spencer Reid. Her hair was a puffy mess of curls like the blowouts back in the 80s, and it was so big he couldn't see her face.

'Are you okay,' he said, rushing over to help, but she just held up a hand, her face still covered.

'Yeah, yeah, I'm fine, doll,' she replied hastily, shakily. 'Just hit my toe, is all.'

'Well, here, let me get you some ice-'

'That's not necessary, hun. Really.'

'Well, at least let me have a look at it. You might've gotten a splinter in it or-'

'Stop.'

He was already bending down when the word hit him. But not just the word, but the voice that came with it. It was different to the Brooklyn accent now. It was... familiar.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as familiarity turned into recognition; and when he looked up from his half-squat position, he froze where he was and stared. Because the woman he saw wasn't an unrecognisable face of some girl called Serena.

His mouth had gone dry at the shock, and so he gulped a few times, trying to find the words he'd been holding back for months. But instead, only one word came to the surface.

'Y/N?'

[elysiangroundsforall]

Love & War

"Everything is fair in love and war."

Epilogue

Years had passed since the birth of Seol, and the House of Gladiolus had witnessed countless moments of joy, growth, and love. Seol had grown into a beautiful young woman, inheriting her mother’s grace and her father’s strength. She was admired and loved by everyone in Goguryeo, known for her kindness and wisdom.

As the years went by, Seol had attracted the attention of many suitors, but it was a young noble named Jihoon from the neighboring kingdom of Baekje who had won her heart. Jihoon was a brave and noble warrior, much like Seonghwa, and he respected and adored Seol deeply.

The day of Seol’s wedding arrived, and the House of Gladiolus buzzed with excitement and anticipation. The same halls that once echoed with the sounds of Seol’s childhood laughter now thrummed with the preparations for her wedding. Beautiful decorations adorned every corner, and the fragrance of fresh flowers filled the air.

Seonghwa stood in the garden, watching the final preparations with a mixture of pride and melancholy. He had always known this day would come, but now that it was here, he found it hard to let go. Y/N approached him, sensing his thoughts.

“She’s grown into a remarkable woman,” Y/N said, slipping her hand into Seonghwa’s.

“She has,” Seonghwa agreed, squeezing her hand. “But it’s hard to believe our little girl is getting married.”

Y/N smiled softly. “She’s found her happiness, just like we did. We should be grateful.”

Seonghwa nodded, his eyes misting over. “I am grateful. More than words can express.”

The ceremony was held in the palace’s grand courtyard, where Seol and Jihoon exchanged vows under a canopy of blossoms. The air was filled with the sound of drums and flutes, and the sun shone brightly, casting a golden glow over the proceedings.

As Seol walked down the aisle, she radiated beauty and grace. Her hanbok, a mix of red and white, shimmered in the sunlight. Seonghwa and Y/N stood by, watching with hearts full of pride. When Seol reached Jihoon, she turned to her parents and bowed deeply, a gesture of respect and gratitude.

Seonghwa stepped forward, his voice steady despite the emotion in his heart. “Jihoon, you are a fine man. Take care of our daughter, cherish her, and respect her. She is the light of our lives.”

Jihoon bowed respectfully. “I will, General. I promise to honor and protect her with my life.”

The ceremony continued with the traditional rites. Seol and Jihoon exchanged gifts, bowed to their elders, and shared their vows. As the shaman blessed their union, Seonghwa and Y/N couldn’t help but reflect on their own journey.

After the ceremony, a grand feast was held. The palace gardens were filled with laughter, music, and celebration. Seol and Jihoon danced under the stars, surrounded by their loved ones. Seonghwa and Y/N watched from a distance, their hearts full of joy and contentment.

Later that evening, as the festivities continued, Seonghwa and Y/N found a quiet moment together in the garden. The same garden where they had shared countless memories and where their love had blossomed.

“It’s hard to believe how far we’ve come,” Y/N said, resting her head on Seonghwa’s shoulder.

Seonghwa wrapped his arm around her. “It is. But I wouldn’t change a single moment. Every hardship, every joy, it led us to this.”

Y/N smiled, looking up at the stars. “And now, our daughter starts her own journey. I hope it’s filled with as much love and happiness as ours.”

Seonghwa kissed her forehead, a gesture that had become their symbol of love and comfort. “It will be. She has the best parts of both of us.”

As the night continued, Seonghwa and Y/N stood together, watching their daughter dance with her new husband. The future was bright, and the House of Gladiolus would continue to be a place of love, strength, and new beginnings.

And so, with hearts full of gratitude and love, Seonghwa and Y/N embraced the next chapter of their lives, knowing that their legacy would live on through Seol and the generations to come.

[airi-p4]

Guarded and protected - Chapter 2

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Chapter 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5 | Ch 6 | Epilogue

-----------------------------------------------------------

Summary:

Marinette forces Luka to become the new Guardian of the Miraculous after confessing her mutual feelings to him. Seeing her healthier with her memories erased, Luka decides to keep his distance so she doesn't get involved with the Miraculous again.

Tw: Amnesia, Angst with a happy Ending

AO3

_____________________________

Chapter 2: Before and after

Earlier that day, before the event that changed everything, Marinette had come to see him, agitated and troubled. After he helped her cool down a bit, she started talking; it was then when she told him about her secret identity, which he already knew. She had also told him how she had taken care of the Black Cat Miraculous and designated a new wielder for it. Luka didn't question it; he completely trusted her judgment. 

And then, she told him he would be a great Guardian and the best partner she could ever wish for. 

He imagined she meant it as a shared Guardianship—but her last words proved him wrong.

Before she renounced Guardianship, she  confessed that she had never stopped loving him—and everybody (except her, maybe) knew he hadn't either.

Probably—no, most likely— the reason it took him so much to realize what was actually happening was because he had lost himself in the contact of her lips on his. 

She kissed him. And he kissed her back, as he had longed to for so long…

He had no idea that joy would be so brief (yet unforgettable and everlasting in his memories).

A low and soft "I love you," exchange followed. A shy smile, and a bittersweet look projected in her eyes the next moment, when she finished saying the Guardianship renouncing words she had once learned from the previous Guardian and her mentor.

He hadn't known. He had no way to know. He couldn't have anticipated it. Not until Tikki told—yelled—at him.

Her memories were gone…

What about her feelings…? 

His heart dropped with her simple question: "Who are you?"

It hurt. A lot. 

Like the worst of his nightmares. 

Worse than those he had already been suffering lately—with failed or possible gone wrongs and heart-wrecking second chances crystal clear in his mind, restlessly tormenting him in his sleep, making him wake up agitated and dizzy and covered in shivering cold sweat almost daily. 

At least the bad dreams ended when he woke up—unlike what was going on now: cruel reality.

If he had known about her memory loss… would he have accepted the magical box? 

Probably not, but he wasn't sure. 

Because, looking at her, there, in front of him, the bags on her eyes gone, as well as with the gloomy air that had surrounded her for years and just until a minute ago, added to how she wasn't tense or anxious either anymore…

She looked healthier and, despite his pain, he couldn't not be happy for her.

[starrysky28]

The Times We Were Together: Chapter 6

Series Title: "The Times We Were Together"

Chapter Title: "Epilogue (Graduation)"

Series Summary: After the Raccoon City incident, Claire, Sherry and Leon start living together, where they share many memories and moments with each other.

Words: 902

Warnings: None

8 Years Later...

A slender young woman glances out the window from her well-decorated bedroom, her pixie-length, sunny-colored hair glistens in the light from the setting sun. She sighs wistfully, stroking the soft fur of the dog that laid down sleepily next to her.

The young woman in question is Sherry Birkin, once the little girl who was one of the few survivors of the disaster in Raccoon City, along with her adoptive parents and a few others.

She could hear the occasional roar of laughter and conversation from Claire and Leon, along with Jill and Chris, who were visiting from a few states over to celebrate her high school graduation. 

That's when it dawned on her. Sherry only had just a few months left with her family before she'd be on her way to attend university on the West Coast.

It wasn't like she was dreading going to college, if that were the case, she probably wouldn't be going at all. However, eight years had gone by faster than anticipated, so much so that it was almost time for her to say goodbye for a while.

Sherry sighed once again and leaned her head against the window, watching the summer sun go down. She couldn't just believe the amount of time that had passed, but the events that occurred during that time.

The beginning of it all, for starters, was a bit of a blur nowadays. She obviously remembered everything, especially the horrible, horrible things that a 10-year-old could obviously never forget, but Sherry tended to wonder what her life would be like without Claire and Leon, or if they hadn't stayed together. 

The events that followed after went quite smoothly. Claire and Leon eventually managed to get jobs, even though Claire made the decision to drop out of college (which Chris wasn't totally on board with at first), and about a year and a half later, they finally saved enough money to rent an apartment for the three of them. One that was far, far away from where they had come from. As for Sherry, she was enrolled in a cheap private school so she could finish her basic education, and the rest was history

However, those first three months after the disaster were the most memorable to her. The amount of time in which the trio had grown as a family the most. She'll never forget how happy she was during those months. The most happy she'd been in probably her whole life. Despite the fact that she remembered missing her parents frequently, and still does even to this day, Claire and Leon had given her more in that time than her real parents had in the first ten years of her life.

Just thinking about these memories brought tears to Sherry's eyes. She was about to let herself cry before she heard a sudden knock at her door.

"Come in!", she called out, wiping tears away.

A familiar figure slipped through the doorframe. Leon.

"Hey, kiddo, everything alright? You left in a hurry down there...", he spoke with a tinge of concern in his voice, which had deepened slightly in eight years time.

"Oh, uh, yeah!", she replied.

"Just needed a little space, that's all"

He nodded, "Ah, I see. A bit loud down there, wasn't it?"

"Sure", she lied.

Leon wasn't buying it, however, "No, really. What's on your mind?"

Sherry sighed, "Sometimes I forget how stubborn and persistent you can be sometimes"

"You know me", He laughs out loud.

"Well...", she began.

"I'm just...reflecting, I guess"

"On what?", Leon's head tilts similarly to a curious puppy.

"This is gonna sound weird, but...Just my life so far. Especially these past few years."

Leon glanced down at the floor, "It's really been that long, huh?"

"Yeah, time really does fly"

"You can say that again! You're almost as tall as Claire. When we first met you, you were half her size", He noted, nudging her side.

Sherry laughs, then silence fills the room before she speaks again.

"Y'know, I had a weird dream the other night"

"Oh yeah? What about?"

"That we got separated after Raccoon City. I got taken from you, and then you became some burnt-out government agent"

"Sounds miserable", Leon scoffed amusedly.

"Yeah, you rescued the president's daughter from a village in Europe and everything"

"Huh. That's oddly specific", he added.

"Yeah, it was really realistic. Like it could have happened"

Leon was silent for a moment, probably a little freaked out by the realness of the dream.

"Well, I assure you, you have nothing to worry about, Sherry", he ruffled his hand through her short, blonde hair.

He then looks at her and smiles, "I'm really proud of you, y'know?"

"Because I graduated today?"

"Not just that. You've managed to persevere against all odds these past few years. Out of all of us, I believe you were the strongest"

Sherry shook her head in disbelief, "Oh, Leon, that's not tru-"

"It is true! Look at you now! You've got nothing to lose!"

"I DON'T EVEN HAVE A GREEN!!"

A loud yell sounded from downstairs. The two chuckled in unison.

"Why don't we head back down? Sounds like Chris is losing at cards again", Leon suggested, reaching his hand out towards her.

"Sure, Why don't we"

With that, she nodded and took his hand, heading downstairs to join the others in the fun.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

*BONUS*

"Leon, can I ask you something?", Claire inquires as the two walked down the street shortly after Chris and Jill left for the night to go back to their hotel.

"Hm?"

"Would you ever want to settle down?", Claire blushes.

He laughs, "What do you mean, like have babies??"

Claire rolls her eyes playfully, "I mean, yes...but also y'know...getting married and stuff.

Leon shakes his head, "Why are you bringing this up, Claire?"

"Well...since Sherry is gonna be on her own soon, maybe nows that time, if you know what I mean...?"

Leon pauses in his steps and looks over at Claire.

"I think I'd like that"

He can see Claire's gentle smile through the almost comforting darkness of the early summer night.

"Me too"

The End

[narcopharmacist]

Short Dramione fic review (and some spoilers too)

It's been a while since I finished a long fic/multi-chapter (The Binding by curly_kay). I've only read oneshots so far, because I just could not seem to have the courage to commit to another long fic yet.

Here are the oneshots that I read this week:

Evigilatio by darkcivet - I didn't read the tags so I was confused as to why Draco was suddenly transforming. Anyways cute story, loved the smut. 😉

Blink (dmhgchallenge drabbles) by blackestfaery - SEVERELY underrated. Despite having very short stories, they're fun to read. Lighthearted, fluff.

In All Honesty by darkcivet - this was hilarious 😂 Lighthearted, fluff, fun! Dumbledore was in it yall! He's a shipper!

Exposé (Ginny's Version) by undercoverdrxco - a fun read, implied smut. Loved it! Ginny is our detective, and she KNOWS for sure Hermione's got a man because guess what, she HEARD them 😂 Her first guesses were wrong though!

Marked as Mine by LilithShade - set in an omegaverse. Draco is A, Hermione is O. Smut was hot. Plot twist was good. We got implied NottPott in it too.

One Pleasant Memory by Musyc - my god. So this was set when Draco just got sectum sempra'd by Harry. He's in the hospital wing. Hermione, for whatever reason rushed to see him. They weren't even tgt at the time. Things get spicy later. And guess what, we have a v!Draco here! Hermione isn't 😉 The story ends when the trio are in the Malfoy manor, and Draco has to identify them in front of Bellatrix.

Most of these recommendations were published just a few years from the release of the last Harry Potter movie, because I have a tab that's set to filter Dramione stories from 2011 to 2015, because, as I have mentioned in my previous posts, I wanted to read fics that were fresh from the completion of the movies.

Additionally , here are the DNFs of my night.

On the Nature of Daylight byt ikorous

--> I think this is one of the highly recommended set-in-Hogwarts fics.

I bookmarked this a while back after reading the summary, and I decided to try reading the first chapters of it. I read the tags, dom Draco/sub Hermione (I could totally do that), but then here comes the toxic Draco train (it just popped into my head I swear). I looked this up on Reddit again to see the comments about this, and most said that this had amazing smut. I was definitely in for that. However when people asked for fics similar to this, the damned Water by kissherdraco was recommended. We know how that ended for me (I hated it), but I decided to continue on with this because the structure of the paragraphs was cohesive anyway.

The first 2 chapters I did not really find Draco to be immediately toxic at all (vs Water by Tyla- I mean kissherdraco). He was horny. But because I was dreading the ending after seeing that this fic had an "angst" tag, and I did not see a "happy ending or HEA" tag, I contemplated on skipping to the end of the story to figure out if I could spare my time reading this one. I'm glad I did skip to the end. I checked the comments first, and they were all heartbroken. So then I went to reading the last chapter before the epilogue. I found out that the ending was before the Deathly Hollows, or somewhere during, because it ended with Dumbledore getting killed, and before the war, or the war was just brewing.

Draco left. He was a Death Eater.

I read the chapter preceding the final chapter. Okay there was smut. The dirty talk, jfc. Draco's nicknames for Hermione. I cringed. I just saw insta posts where people shared nicknames that were icky, and it all began with "little." Bestie this was full of it. "Little kitten" 🫠🤢

The dirty talking... It just felt so OOC. Especially Draco. I just could not.

Anyways, I don't have to have my heart broken. I'm satisfied with the contents I read from this fic, even if they were select chapters.

I heard this had a sequel? But author mentioned in the notes/comments that it's gonna be darker, so F that.

A Dish Best Served Cold by MistessLynn

--> Smut, yet again. Of course I'm in here for the smut, but Hermione here was so OOC I had to stop 😂🙈

Set in Hogwarts 8th year. The buildup was really good, until Hermione did the thang 😭💀 I had to skip the entire part. Well, I skipped to the end.

You might be wondering, why on earth do I want to read smut but stop when they do all the weird things? Well I cannot imagine them being so OOC. I don't like it 😭 It does not feel natural for them, the characters, especially the ones in my head. I want them to stick to the original characterization.

This is basically all I can post about tonight.

I would love to reread The Binding.

I'm thinking of making another post about a fic I highly recommend. Though it may need trigger warnings.

Toodleloo!

[1-800-local-slut]

The Scientist Epilogue 2

I can't process that this is the end! Thank you to everyone who read this, and I hope you enjoy this. I really liked writing The Scientist as well.

Please let me know what you thought of this series in the replies, I'd greatly appreciate it.

Warnings: fluff, a cute baby, slight body insecurity

Pairings: Poe Dameron x Shy!Black!Scientist!Fem!Reader

Series Masterlist

The End <3

______________________________________________________________

“The baby’s sleeping but I’m not sure if she’s awake.” Poe whispered, his finger over his lips in an attempt to keep his guest quiet. Animals chirped merrily outside of the home, and the Sun shone through the beautiful open space. Pictures of the couple and the small trinkets littered the walls. Books and toys were left on the floor and a pair of boots were messily knocked over.

Rey’s taller form pulled him into a warm hug, shoving gifts into Finn’s already full hands. Poe reciprocated the hug, having not seen the woman in quite some time. Finn leaned in for an awkward side hug. It was the best he could do given the small pile of gifts in his arms. The lady of the house tried her best to assure them there was no need to get anything crazy. A box of diapers would do, but Poe, ever so dramatic, insisted on the opposite. He smiled at the memory of announcing the arrival of their bundle of joy, the screams of joy and congratulatory hugs passed around.

“Here, I’ll take some of this. She’ll want to open them with all of us here.” Taking the boxes into his paint stained hands, he avoided touching them to his milk covered shirt. With a slight grunt, Finn basically threw bags and boxes into Rey’s arms and she scowled at him. With a harsh elbow she glared at the man. Poe chuckled, and he led the two down the hallway, keeping his voice to a whisper as he spoke to them. They asked questions, questions on how big the baby is, how much she eats, how often she naps. And Poe answered them with such joy and excitement that he struggled to keep his voice to a whisper.

Finally they got to the bedroom. The room where Poe held the most important things in his life to his chest anymore, hidden away from the war and chaos of the universe. Sure it was selfish, but some days Poe imagined not returning to work and simply staying here with his girls. Opening the brown door, Poe saw the love of his life, his wife of two going into three years.

She was sitting up in their bed, holding a bright faced baby in her lap. Her hair was in a pink bonnet that matched their daughters. She was making soft cooing noises at her, giving her a finger to play with as she tickled her chin. The baby made a happy noise and her mother gasped and smiled happily in response. Puffing out her cheeks, Poe watched his wife and daughter make the same faces at each other. 

“Whose momma’s girl? Are you? Is it you?” With a happy coo, Poe smiled with the same grin his daughter had. Iliaisa Shara Dameron, the three month old daughter of Poe Dameron and his lovely wife. Named after Poe’s mother, named after his Scientist’s mother. 

 Iliaisa, who had inherited her mothers curious and gorgeous eyes. Illiasia, who had her fathers smile and loose curls. Iliaisa, who had a bright smile despite having no teeth. Iliaisa, the light of Poe’s life. Iliaisa, the child who was the perfect combination of Poe and his Scientist. 

“Hey baby, I have some people who would love to see you.” 

“Well I want to see you.” She shot back with a smile, looking up and fixing her bonnet over her hair. Her eyes then widened seeing her husband's friends in her doorway. Finn and Rey stood behind the door frame, looking at the bright-eyed baby. Ilisia was being held up gently by her mom, and was sucking on one of her moms fingers with a tight grip on her wrist. Her golden brown skin was contrasted with the white sheets and her pink nap shirt.

“Oh! Why didn’t you tell me we had guests?” Poe bent down to hear her whispering. 

“I did.” Poe responded with another whisper, taking Iliasia from her mothers arms. The baby grinned seeing her dad, and Poe blew a raspberry onto her cheek.

“I wasn’t paying attention.” She responded with a sleepy frown that added to Poe’s laughter. Despite looking tired as all hell, Poe’s wife was still stunning. Her eyes were still as vibrant as the day Poe fell in love with her. In fact, he hardly noticed any changes while she was pregnant. Even though she was absolutely terrified he wouldn’t still adore her, he still did. He loved every stretch mark, bump, swollen toe, on her body. Placing a kiss to her forehead, he watched his wife rise out of their bed with elegance.

“Thank you guys for coming.” With open arms, she pulled Finn and Rey into a soft hug, her voice hoarse from the lack of sleep. Her silk bonnet ghosted over Rey’s face, like it’s done to Poe’s many times.

“It’s no problem. We’d never miss a chance to meet this cutie pie.” Rey joked, which amused Iliasia. Perhaps it was the accent, their daughter always loved silly voices. Poe approached the three. He was whispering to their baby, who would nod or make a noise in response. 

“You think so? I don’t know sweetie.” He whispered and the other three stared in silence. He looked up and smiled at his wife and bestfriends. That boyish grin the Scientist fell in love with, and their daughter inherited.

“This is Finn and Rey. Can you say ‘hi’?” Poe asked his baby using his usual baby talk. The Scientist rolled her eyes but didn’t mean it. Seeing the love of her life, and the most important thing in the galaxy so peaceful and safe warmed her stressed heart. She loved the man before her more than anything. Poe took Iliasia’s small hand and waved it to his friends. 

“Hello, I’m Finn.” The man stepped forward slightly, bending down to reach her eye level and was met with small toes tapping his face. Rey snickered in the back and Iliasia’s mother giggled in amusement at her daughter. Though she did suspect it had something to do with her hunch that her daughter's sight wasn’t all the way there.

Oftentimes, if things were too far from her face she needed to feel it in order to identify it. Just babies doing what babies do perhaps, but her own mother told her stories of the Scientist having the same habit. And her sight isn’t exactly the best.

“Sorry about that, she does that. Not totally sure why.” With a cross between a smile and a frown, Poe gently removed the baby's foot from Finn’s face.

“I’m Rey, I hope you won’t put your foot in my face.” Rey teased the small girl, who observed her with wide brown eyes. She walked around to the side, away from kicking distance. Instead the Jedi was met with a tiny palm making contact with her forehead. Well, she didn’t get a foot to the face.

“Well. You got what you asked for.” Finn teased and Poe couldn’t hold his laughter. Rey grinned and gingerly removed the baby's palm.

“Oh what a sweetie.” Rey smiled, peering down at the baby who smiled up at her after a moment. Rey had noticed she had her mothers same blank features at first. She would just stare emptily at people, no readable expression on her face. Then she’d make up her mind on what she feels and her expression would follow accordingly. For a moment the brunette wondered. Would she be shy like her mother? Boisterous like her father? Then she heard two identical laughs, one from her friend's wife and one from her baby.

Poe was holding his wife around the hips, and she was holding the baby in her arms. Poe placed a smooch on her neck and spun the two around gently. It was like the two were absorbed in their own world, perfectly happy with their baby and each other. 

The family was perfect. Happy, hidden away on the safety of the planet. Sure eventually they’d need to return to work and the cruel galaxy, or maybe just one of them. Perhaps just Poe. But either way, the family would figure it out. They always did.The way they did when they found out they were pregnant. The way they did when it was time for them to take their leave. The way they did when their daughter was born two weeks early. The way they always have and always will.

Thank you so much for sticking through this series! It was my first series and my first work and I’m happy it was so well received. Thank you so much for all the love and I hope you’ll continue to read my works! <3. Thank you so much for reading.

[autumnslance]

Forever in Our Hearts

OK, so Tataru's Grand Endeavor made us all deal with Werlyt stuff again. But the focus of the final leg of the chain, once the excitement of the mechs was done, was finally on the characters it should have always been on: Allie, and her siblings.

Below the cut!

So the first part is pretty rote; get to Terncliff to speak to Gaius as your contact in Werlyt's defense (my characters were not thrilled to be called his "sisters in arms" despite his turning around), and WoL finds a situation happening of course, and so what's a former legatus to do but rope the hero into the shenanigans.

I'm amused this is apparently the first time Gaius finally gets to interact with Nero since ARR, hearing the man was alive and part of the Ironworks only via rumor, and Nero seemed quite happy to leave that the case, until his mecha was the one that was stolen.

Short little rhythm game and a fast-paced mech battle cutscene later (that makes our WoL look like a damn cool pilot, though we don't get to input anything past the initial scene) and we've apprehended the culprit; a man so dedicated to Valens--and just as unhinged in his ideals--that he made himself into a face double for the dead man.

WoL never did meet or see Valens, mind. He was emphatically not our villain, we were there to handle the Weapons and the Quintet's dumb plan.

Anyway, Gaius is disgusted and unimpressed (especially given what he now knows of his once-beloved Emperor Solus) by the raving, and in his usual controlled and understated manner simply knocks the thief out and wraps matters up. Job done, let's get back to Tataru's business.

But the thief's appearance had quite the effect on Avilina and the orphaned boys the man bullied into showing him how to slip into the hanger. Seeing the face of their tormenter again was traumatizing; Gauis was able to gently talk to them, and praise their bravery in speaking up, at the start, but he doesn't want to upset them further. So asks WoL to reassure the children that Valens is truly gone for good.

And this is where the story turns into an actual epilogue for Sorrow of Werlyt.

The boys are relieved, and bring up Allie; she's been caring for them at the orphanage. They don't want her to know about these events--not because they're ashamed of their own actions made in fear, but because they know she'd been abused by Valens too, and don't want to upset her. Instead, they want to find a way to make her dream of a picture of her family come true.

The trouble is, of her family, only Gaius is left. Avilina has a plan though. Duremert, Leofard's grandfather from that leg of this chain, is the painter brought to the lookout. Gaius agrees because the boys want to do this for Allie's sake. Allie is doing it to humor them, though she looks sad standing alone by a seated Gaius.

Avilina then uses the memory core from the Diamond Weapon to create images of Alfonse, Milisandia, Ricon, and Rex standing behind/around their sister and foster father. While Gaius is also surprised, it's Allie that he and the other characters focus on, that the camera lingers on, and Allie that gets the last "Thank you" as the screen darkens out of cutscene mode.

The boys ask if they "made her dream come true." They sure did.

Another interesting aspect of Terncliff is to speak to the elderly man who acts as the town's info NPC, the one you can speak to for a little background of the town.

What can you tell me about Terncliff? Rueful Civilian: Being far to the south of Werlyt, perched atop the cliffs, there was never much reason for anyone to travel here. Being by the sea is all well and good, but we're simply too high above the water to benefit much from it. The gulls and terns don't seem to mind, though. Rueful Civilian: Most of the townsfolk are either Hyuran natives or Au Ra who found their way here over the years. They all lived side by side, peacefully enough, before the Garleans came and ruined everything. Rueful Civilian: After years of living under occupation, the youngsters banded together and kicked out those imperial bastards. But from what I hear, it was a group of orphans raised by a Garlean legatus who played a vital role in winning our independence. Alfonse, I think their leader was called… Rueful Civilian: So many young lives lost… I wish I could give my life to spare one of them, but it's too late now. The only thing any of us can do is make the most of the freedom we've been given.

The story being told is that it was the youths whose foolish but determined actions to thwart Valens's plans for the Weapons were instrumental in freeing Werlyt. We know at the end of the story their names were added to the memorial at the lookout point, but to have them be remembered as the main heroes of a story where WoL really only ever showed up to fight while all the actual story stuff happened to other people at other times and places, actually fits.

That lack of focus, and WoL's only tangential interactions with the Welryt cast--most of the custcenes weren't even Echo, they were "Meanwhiles" in places and around people the WoL never met--is a huge chunk of why Werlyt falls flat for me. Not to mention the unexamined imperialist biases in regards to the relationship of Gaius and his former officers with the people of Terncliff.

The story should have been more about them, and Gaius's part as the focus NPC meant it got mishandled, nor did WoL get to see or interact with the ways the Quintet and Gaius learned and grew and changed in that story, leaving it a bit hollow as a necessary new start. I still feel as a character his return to the cast was a bit wasted to leave him in optional side content and dropping his Shadowhunter plot entirely (he doesn't even consider Ascians when Avilina and the boys swear they saw Valens, and frankly it should have been Gaius's first guess).

But in this little coda to Werlyt's story, WoL gets to have a bit of fun piloting the G-Warrior again, and then the mecha story is followed up by giving Allie the focus that should have been on her and the others the entire time, even if all too briefly.

Returning to Terncliff afterwards, Avilina continues her work with the Ironworks, eschewing a uniform; Gaius reads on a bench at the lookout, and discusses plans for Werlyt's forces and trade with Ala Mhigo.

Allie stands at the rail looking over the water, and expresses a new wish:

Allie: One day, I hope to grow closer with the children─perhaps even become something akin to family. Do you think that could happen?

It's also perhaps worth noting, that though I waited in the daylight hours, I never did see the ghostly children that used to play and worry for their sister. It seems with these updates, they no longer haunt Terncliff.

[multifandomfanfiction]

Two Ghosts Chapter 18

TITLE: Two Ghosts Chapter 18 PAIRING: Rooster/OC RATING: T CHAPTER: 18/? SUMMARY: It was just a routine training session, but it changed Noel “Mongoose” Grenier’s life forever. The legends of pilots flying through time vortexes was true, because it happened to her. Dropped into 1984 during Maverick’s Top Gun training, she must navigate keeping her secret while also completing the program…again. Will she return to her own time unscathed? Or will she lose her heart in the process?

[A/N - I lied! I thought chapter 17 would be the last chapter and then I changed my mind. There will be an epilogue after this. I also apologize the long wait. I’ve been moving.]

Mongoose smoothed out non-existent wrinkles in her dress. She looked at herself in the mirror.

She never imagined in a million years she would be getting married. But if she had to get married to anyone, she was glad it was Rooster. Her best friend.

A knock at the door startled Mongoose out of her thoughts.

“Come in,” she said softly.

Maverick entered the room. “Wow…Noel, you look…”

Mongoose blushed. “Thanks, Mav.”

“You ready to do this?”

Mongoose nodded and grabbed her bouquet. She wrapped her arm around Maverick’s and they made their way to the door. Mongoose froze when she heard the wedding march.

“Hey, you okay? Not getting cold feet are you?” Maverick asked.

Mongoose was half afraid that when the doors opened, she’d see Iceman instead of Rooster. While some of her memories of her second Top Gun training had begun to fade, there were still moments where she swore she’d see Iceman.

Glimpses of blonde frosted hair in the hangar. Seeing him in one of the new pilots.

“Rooster will understand if you don’t want to go through with this.”

Mongoose shook her head. “No. I want this. I do.”

The doors opened and the two of them started to walk down the aisle.

Rooster had to stop his mouth from dropping open.

Hangman leaned towards Rooster. “She looks gorgeous, man.”

Rooster smiled. “I’m a lucky guy.”

Hangman clapped him on the shoulder. “You sure are, Bradshaw.”

Rooster wished his parents could have met Mongoose. They would have loved her. But they were here in spirit.

Three seats had been set aside. One for Goose, one for Carol, and one for Iceman.

Mongoose and Maverick came to a stop in front of Rooster.

“Who gives this woman away to be married?” the preacher asked.

“I do,” Maverick said. He took Mongoose’s hands and placed them in Rooster’s. Maverick brushed his lips against her temple. “He’s always with you. Remember that.”

Mongoose nodded and turned to look at Rooster, while Maverick took his seat next to Penny.

“You look beautiful,” Rooster told her.

Mongoose handed her bouquet off to Phoenix. “You don’t look half bad yourself, Bradshaw.”

He looked so handsome in his dress whites.

Mongoose and Rooster had chosen a traditional ceremony with traditional vows despite not being very traditional themselves, but it was the ceremony his parents and Admiral Kazansky would’ve wanted.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Rooster and Mongoose entered the reception hall on base and glided onto the dancefloor.

The sound of “How Do I Live?” by LeAnn Rimes started up.

“May I have this dance, Mrs. Bradshaw?” Rooster asked.

Mongoose rolled her eyes and nodded. Mongoose wrapped her arms around his neck and set her head on his shoulder while Rooster’s settled on her waist.

The song had been Maverick’s idea since it had become clear that the two couldn’t live without each other. They refused to fly without each other, except when it came down to orders.

After their marriage, there was a good chance they’d never be allowed to fly together again. But they’d deal with that when it came up.

Mongoose looked up at her new husband.

“Are you happy?” he asked her.

She smiled. “I’m the happiest woman on earth, Rooster.”

Rooster smiled and leaned down to kiss her. Rooster gently turned and Mongoose was facing the bar.

Two people stood there dressed in their Navy whites.

One with a mustache and another with blonde spiky hair. They raised their glasses at the couple and Mongoose smiled.

Her and Rooster would always have two ghosts following them.

The man who had lover her, if only for a few weeks and a father who had loved his son and wife more than anything in the world.

Mongoose couldn’t ask for anything more.

Taglist: @indynerdgirl​​​​​ @alanadetigy​ @the-untamed-soul​​​​​​​​​​​​ @marland56 @ireadthensuetheauthors​​​​​​​​​​​​ @kassieesworld​​​​​​​​​​​​ @theforevermorereject​​​​​​​​​​​​ @maverick-dont-think-just-do​​​​​​​​​​​​ @thescarletknight2014​​​​​​​​​​​​ @maverick-goose-rooster​​​​​​​​​​​​ @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy​​​​​​​​​​​​ @yougottalovefandoms​​​​​​​​​​​​ @maverick-wingman​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @shrimping-for-all

[princesssarisa]

Beşir for the character ask?

Favorite thing about them: As a person, his faithful, selfless devotion to Nihal, even if it can be viewed as Stockholm Syndrome because her family literally owns him. As a character, the fact that at first he seems just like "window dressing," an uncritical portrait of a black slave in the background, but he ends up so dramatically subverting that portrayal. First as he gets increasingly sick and as his longing for his homeland is revealed, we realize how petty the protagonists' main conflicts really are, since an enslaved teenager is suffering and dying in their midst and they barely care. And then there's the big twist, where not only is he the one to reveal Bihter and Behlül's affair to Adnan, but it turns out that he knew about it all along, and no one ever paid him enough attention to suspect that he might know. This subversion of his initial role is made all the more pointed by the fact that afterwards, he's effectively shoved back into the background, dying off-page in the time skip before the epilogue, and with Nihal only briefly mourning him before turning her thoughts to more cheerful things. His portrayal makes the book less apolitical than it seems at first glance.

Least favorite thing about them: As you've said in the past, he can be seen as guilty of voyeurism toward Bihter and Behlül. And then there's the "deep and vicious pleasure" with which he looks at Bihter after he reveals her affair to her husband: even though it's only natural, since Bihter is to blame for breaking Nihal's heart and possibly her health, and Beşir doesn't know her sympathetic side the way we do, it's still morally gray to take pleasure in disgracing her. Although I like it as an aspect of his character, because it saves him from being just a pathetic figure.

Three things I have in common with them:

*I'm emotionally sensitive.

*I have dark hair.

*I tend to take a background role in groups.

Three things I don't have in common with them:

*I'm female.

*I'm not a slave.

*I don't have tuberculosis.

Favorite line: Not from him, but about him:

"And Beşir was cold. He was freezing. All of a sudden, a longing had awoken in him for the air of the African deserts, burned by the scorching sands. A corner of his memory that had lain covered for years had torn and spread before his eyes a fiery wasteland. Despite the sunny, blazing summer of his imagination, he could never feel warm, and was always freezing, hunching his shoulders, and pressing against his chest.”

brOTP: Nihal, sort of; at least she's the person who's kindest to him.

OTP: Health and happiness.

nOTP: Bihter, Peyker, or Firdevs – thankfully, they would never consider it.

Random headcanon: He didn't die right away after Bihter's suicide, but lingered for about a week or two afterwards. No one knows whether he took any grim satisfaction in her fate or felt any guilt for his role in it, but at least he died with the comfort of knowing that Nihal was alright.

Unpopular opinion: If it's popular to view him as just a flat, racist portrayal of a minor slave character in a book where the protagonists are of the slave-owning class, then I have to disagree. While of course his portrayal is still problematic in some ways (e.g. being subserviently in love with his master's pale, blonde daughter and ignoring his own failing health to serve her), in many ways it's an anti-racist subversion of what he initially seems to be!

Song I associate with them: I'm sorry for this, but... "I'm All Alone" from Spamalot. King Arthur = Nihal, Patsy = Beşir. This is a comedy version of their relationship.

Favorite picture of them:

Çitlenbik Ihsan in the 1975 TV adaptation.

@ariel-seagull-wings, @artemideaddams

[macbeth-s]

When I think about him, all I see is open skin, slack jaw, insides out. I wont let her remember me that way, I’d rather die alone. Did she die alone? Was her God with her? Was he with Joel? More than I was with him?

[bbugyu]

no one could be prouder or more pleased to be by your side.

classic | epilogue

2.9k | joshua x afab enby!reader, fluff, humor, swearing, eating, josh is the literal sweetest human alive

this is a quick one! i've actually had this written for about a year LMAO but i never posted for some reason 🤕 anyhow, i threw together a title card and cleaned it up a bit to post as a thank you for 1500 followers! i seriously can't believe so many of you find me worthy of a follow, and i genuinely appreciate it so much. thank you! thank you thank you thank you!!!!!! also yes i pulled the name from THE 00s romcom of all time starring ryan reynolds and sandra bullock and YES i used a joshua picture from canada because that movie is set in alaska (it's as close as i could get without using the gum wall pics ok)

*

sometimes, days were just bad. there was no real cause, and nothing to be done about it, but sometimes small things piled up in ways that you couldn't stop thinking about. you stubbed your toe on the dresser first thing in the morning after not sleeping particularly well or long. your subway car was more crowded than you liked, and when you stopped at a cafe to get a coffee a block away from the studio, you realized you had forgotten the memory card for your camera and had to resort to filming on your phone instead. you only worked at maji studio once a week these days, and you were always excited to spend some time with yunhyeong, but he hadn't been able to make it in because his sister and her wife dropped in for a surprise visit, so you didn't even get to see him. it was slightly too hot for spring and you could feel it under your arms. the pollen count was too high and you could feel it in your nose. your shoes were too new to be fully broken in and you could feel it in your achilles.

all this, and one of your best friends had just gotten engaged.

it went without question that you were extremely happy for the couple, and absurdly excited to celebrate with them, but krys had asked her half-brother to be her "maid" of honor (leaving you relieved, karol indignant, and sending joshua into a manic and panicked research spree), and asked you to make the cake. she had shown you pictures of things she liked, you knew her color scheme, and you had spent the last four years getting to know her tastes, so all in all, she was going to be the easiest client you had ever worked with. however - and you would never let her know in fear that she would retract the responsibility - the added baking you had to do for the cake tasting appointment you scheduled with her put just enough on your plate to have a looming stress over your entire week. 

a recipe for disaster, as it were. and when you dropped your lunch leftovers on the sidewalk outside the loft, the pad see ew and swimming rama that you had ordered in an attempt to brighten your mood splattering over the concrete like a crime scene, you just let out a groan in frustration and planted your palms over your face.

"well, diaz-" you slid your hands down to view the source of the familiar voice, joshua walking up to you from where you saw his car parked down the street and studying the food, hands on his hips to imitate the tv detective from one of your favorite sitcoms. "looks like we got a homicide on our hands."

"fuck today," you whined, your foot stomping against the concrete in that cutesy way you only did around him, and he caught the glimmer of tears in your eyes, immediately dropping the joke.

"aw, baby," he cooed, stepping over the food and gathering you in his arms. "don't cry over spilled thai."

you choked out a laugh as you settled into the hug, sniffling and willing the tears back into your ducts. "i'm not crying."

"you okay?" joshua asked, hand rubbing up and down your back, effectively wiping away your stress with his touch. "do you wanna talk about it?"

you buried your face in his neck, fully succumbing to the embrace despite the fact that you were standing outside, and you had a pretty strict aversion to indulging in intimacy in public places. it felt too nice to let go, joshua's warmth and comfort a welcomed juxtaposition to your awful mood. you sighed. "wouldn't even know where to start."

he breathed out a laugh, squeezing you. "long day?"

"really long."

he pulled away slightly to waggle his eyebrows at you, and you laughed, swatting at his chest. he nodded at the door of your apartment building. "you go wash up. i'll deal with the crime scene."

you pouted at him. "are you sure?"

"of course," he said, letting you start towards the door despite holding onto his arms. "best boyfriend ever. don't you forget it."

you tried to hide a smile. "only because seokmin's a fiancé now."

he pointed at the door. "shut up and get inside before i change my mind."

you giggled at him, making him break and smile at you, but you took the instructions nonetheless, after planting a kiss on his cheek.

the shower felt like therapy, scalding water stripping your skin of grime and your brain of pressure. you took a little longer than normal, water dripping down your face from where it was spraying against the back of your head and neck, letting the incessant noise of it make your mind go blank. after your moment of meditation, you shut off the water and went to find something comfy to wear, but joshua intercepted you at the bathroom door.

"hey," he said, a gentle smile on his lips. "do you wanna go get something good for dinner?"

you blinked at him, towel wrapped around you. "like what?"

"well, i was thinking," he started, letting you step past him into the bedroom to begin digging through the closet. "you were telling me about that high end beef place in gangnam the other day-"

"woo tender?" you asked, eyes big. "isn't that a little fancy for a wednesday?"

he pointed at you. "i knew you'd say that. but i looked into it, and turns out they give free dessert if you get engaged during dinner."

you stared at him for a second, thinking about how you had told him in the past that if he even tried to ask you to marry him before year five you would break up with him, and the further caveat that if he tried to propose in public you would say no on principle. "joshua."

"not for real," he said, making a face like you were insane for even thinking he would suggest it. "i just thought you might like today more if we could put on the 'can't wait for marriage' act to get free food."

you pushed our lips to one side of your face, fiddling with your towel and giving him one of those looks that he could never look away from. "that actually sounds really fun."

he made a fist in victory, backing towards the door. "pick out something nice to wear, i'll match you. i have to make sure they have a table real fast. you don't happen to have a ring, do you?"

you looked over to the dresser, where a tray of jewelry sat. "yours wouldn't fit any of my fingers, huh?"

"well, it's only the one finger that matters," joshua pointed out, eyebrows raised, and you giggled at him. "it's fine, we can find a shitty one on the way."

that made you laugh out loud. "so romantic," you said, shoulder popping up to your chin sassily.

"only the best for you," he winked, finger gun being the last thing you saw as he left.

the statement was repeated later, joshua's tone facetious and teasing as he shoved coins into a gacha machine in your local mall, the pair of you being massively overdressed to be betting on which squishy gudetama your spare change was going to gift you. you wanted the rolled omelet - of course, who wouldn't? - but that was exactly why joshua was positive you would never get it. you had already placed the almost convincing ring that had popped out of the previous machine on your finger, it's greatest giveaway being the plastic seam you could feel between your knuckles, but glittered vaguely in the light in a way that you were sure emulated a real stone. if you kept moving, no one would be able to notice that the silver had no depth to it.

joshua sucked his lips between his teeth, exerting much more effort on the reusable capsule than one would think it needed. he huffed when it popped open, displaying the contents as you both peeked in.

"oh my god!" you giggled, immediately picking the little rolled omelet out of the capsule and tearing open the plastic packaging. "gudetamagoyaki!"

joshua stared at you. "that's insane. i've watched seokmin pull eight of the steamed egg squishes out of this exact machine."

you thought for a second. "well, yeah. we're each others' good luck charm."

he laughed, an endeared light in his eyes as he watched you gesture between the two of you. he put the capsule in the provided bin on top of the machines and fell into step beside you as you left the gacha arcade. "please elaborate."

"your promotion," you said immediately, hooking your arm under his as he took the inanimate animated egg from you to squish between his fingers. "you got the editor position because you came back for a proper kiss."

he turned his head to you, and there was a laugh just threatening to burst from his lips at the sight of your proud face. "right, nothing to do with my years of dedicated work, aggressive networking, and sheer ambition. not like i went to college for this exact reason or whatever."

"exactly," you agreed, as if he had just stated that the sky was blue, displaying your ringed finger in front of you as you exited the mall and headed towards the car. "and you were my first viral video."

joshua's head cocked as he stared at your hand. "now that's true."

you looked over to him. "so was the other one."

he smiled at you. "right."

you looked back at the ring. "this is so goofy."

he laughed as you pulled it off your finger, putting it in his outstretched palm as he led you across the parking lot. "it only has to be convincing for half an hour."

you chewed your cheek, spotting joshua's car right where the two of you had left it. "and i have to say yes to get the dessert?"

joshua rolled his eyes dramatically. "alright, you can walk home."

"i'm kidding!" you laughed, tugging on his arm, and he let a sly smile sneak through his annoyed facade, hand fishing in the pocket of his pants to unlock the car. "i won't be able to say no when you ask me for real, so i might not get the chance again."

a smirk stretched across his face as he pulled open the passenger door. "you act like we won't absolutely pull this scam again."

you laughed, telling him he was so right, and rewarding his chivalry with a quick kiss on his upturned lips before dropping into the car.

joshua's hand always found you. it wasn't even a conscious action for him anymore, you were pretty sure - a habit at this point, a natural proclivity to brushing his fingers over the small of your back to prompt you to distractedly step up in line at a café, or rubbing his thumbs into your shoulders when he checked on you while you edited on the weekends. today, his hand slid over your thigh as soon as he had navigated back to a main road, a sign that he had settled into the drive. he peeked over at you when you put your palm over his hand, squeezing at his fingers, and he squeezed your thigh back when you gave him a tiny smile.

"feel any better?" he asked, checking his side mirror quickly as he merged.

you let out a breath. "a lot better. thank you for this."

"i'm being selfish," he said quickly, making you sputter out a laugh that got him to join you. "have you seen their sweets platter? i need to eat those donuts." 

and while the dessert was the purpose of visiting gangnam on this particular wednesday, everything else about the meal was just as beautiful and delicious as you hoped it would be. you felt ridiculous, absolutely, spending way too much money for a gourmet meal on a random week night just for the idea of a free dessert, but perhaps that inside joke was part of what made the evening so fun. being able to make quick eye contact that only had meaning between the two of you, stifling a giggle that made him smile and clear his throat. the plates you had been sharing were almost empty, signifying a nearing end to your stay in gangnam and the question you had been waiting for all night.

"here," joshua said, pushing the entree plate towards you lightly. "the steak was good, you eat the last of it."

you pouted at him. "are you sure? you can have it."

he shook his head at you. "saving space," he said, hand on his stomach and giving you a subtle wink. you giggled and picked up your fork to make the last perfect bite. he watched you stab the last bit of greens and meat, scooping up as much of the sauce as you could before depositing the whole affair in your mouth, and he grinned when you made a noise of enjoyment. "it looks tastier when you eat, anyways."

"this is why i like eating with you," you said after you swallowed, fully savoring the rich sauce and tender meat. "usually i'm the one making other people take the last bite."

he gave you a look - the look, you realized, the one he gave you when he was about to say something brain meltingly cheesy that would always make you giggle and hit him playfully. your name dripped with honey, a sweet song from his lips, and despite knowing exactly what was coming, having already rehearsed your parts of the act in your head before getting seated, you couldn't help but feel slightly caught off guard, heart racing when his hand reached for you across the table and when his eyes met yours. "can you promise to share meals with me for the rest of our lives?"

you blinked helplessly at him, his smile widening at how shell shocked you looked. he slid off his chair, hand still holding yours as he gently got down on one knee beside your table. "joshua, what are you-"

"darling," he interrupted, eyebrows raised playfully at you, one hand reaching back to fish the trinket out of his sports coat's pocket. "i'll always let you have the last bite, so," he paused a second, looking up at you, and you could have sworn there was something genuine behind the almost awe struck chuckle that fell from his curved lips. "do me the honor of staying by my side."

your breath caught, and if you didn't feel the eyes of neighboring tables on you, you probably would have smacked the shit out of him for flustering you like that in public. but you fancied yourself an actor, so instead, you pushed your palm to your face as you conjured tears to your waterline. you even let yourself get caught up in the magic of the moment as he pulled the ring forward, the dim lighting of the restaurant making it even more believable than you had expected, your eyes flashing between it and joshua. you started to nod, small at first, then firmer when you finally laughed out a yes.

people were clapping, you were pretty sure, when joshua scraped the plastic ring onto your finger, grinning wide as you both stood, his arms naturally running up your body and catching you in the kind of hug that could make your knees go weak. and even though you had an innate distaste for the relationship checkpoints society projected on romance, and even though joshua had agreed instantly that he didn't think you were the kind of couple that needed a ring and a piece of paper to prove that they love each other, and even though this was all just a scam to get free dessert, you still broke your rule about public affection. your fingers combed through the hair on the back of his head, and you pulled away from the hug just enough to kiss him.

joshua seemed shocked for just a second by your vigor, and if he commented on it later you would absolutely tell him it was just for the performance, but he sunk into your lips, his hand running over your waist. 

he hummed when you pulled away. "that steak sauce was really good."

"gross, joshua," you laughed, gently pushing him back to his seat with a cheesy grin on his face.

it took less than three minutes for the prophesied dessert platter to arrive, complete with chocolate writing that congratulated you on your (fake) engagement and an assurance that it was on the house from the waitress - though joshua was more interested in the donuts than the sentiment. he immediately swiped the pastry through the chocolate ganache script for the flavor benefit, and for just a moment, a sweet thought floated through your head as his entire face dropped in shock before he solemnly told you they were absolutely insane. you giggled before selecting one yourself, swiping it similarly through the ganache, and though you would never say it out loud, there was no one on the planet you would rather devote the rest of your sweet thoughts to.

even if the engagement was a scam.

[bbgem329]

Just One Night—Epilogue

Pairings—Sebastian Stan x F!Reader

Summary

You spend an unforgettable night with Sebastian Stan. One that would completely change your life. Three years later, Sebastian shows up at your doorstep to find that you both made more than just good memories that night.

Warnings

Pure fricken fluff!! Dad!Seb.

Notes!!

Wow! This is the end. Thank you so much for reading. I’m beyond ready to close this series and focus on a few others I have in the works. Again thank you for the support and positive comments, it means soo much to me ❤️

—————

August 13, 2021

“They’re really small.” Sebastian whispered, index finger tracing down Viviana’s nose. He chuckled softly as the babe’s nose scrunched in response to his touch, tiny lips parting as she released a small sigh. “Theo wasn’t this small.”

(Y/N) smiled, eyes trained on Alina who also slept contently on her bare chest for so much needed skin on skin contact. “Well, Theo weighed like eight pounds and six ounces. So yeah, the girls are much smaller.”

Viviana, the bigger of the two weighed in at about six pounds and Alina only five pounds and seven ounces, just missing what would be considered a low birth weight by two ounces. They were both healthy and strong, so far each and every test had come back perfectly normal. Despite their somewhat early arrival, they were doing great. Although Alina was having a bit of trouble latching on to breastfeed, but they were working on it.

“How the hell are we going to tell them apart?” Sebastian asked, readjusting the fuzzy, pink blanket laid over Viv’s exposed body. He too was without a shirt after he’d eagerly volunteered to do skin to skin with one of the twins. “They look exactly the same.”

“I have no idea.” She giggled, pressing a kiss to the top of Alina’s head, her dainty fingers brushing gently along her back and up to the fine dark hair on top of her head. “Right now Viv is bigger but that won’t last long. We might need to have name tags on them at all times or have their clothes embroidered with their names or something, so we know who is who. At least until we find even the slightest difference.”

“Probably.” He chuckled softly, one hand reaching out to intertwine with hers, where it rested on the bed. He gazed at his youngest daughter sleeping on her chest, content little breaths and whimpers spilling from her lips and long lashes fluttering against her rosy cheeks.

His baby girls were absolutely perfect.

Never in his wildest dream did he think he’d ever get the chance at a life like this, but here he sat on his thirty ninth birthday with the love of his life, holding their newborn daughters. And in just a half hour, this image would be fully complete when Theo arrived with his mother and (Y/N)’s parents to meet his baby sisters for the very first time.

And although they’re arrival was a little untimely and had disrupted his original plans for the day, he wouldn’t have changed a thing. There were no words to describe how happy and at peace he felt. Now that they were finally here, all the anxiety and worrying he’d done through her pregnancy had lessened significantly.

Of course, he was always going to worry about his children and his girl but to be able to actually see them, hold them, and touch them made everything better and his mind at ease. (Y/N) had done an amazing job at growing and nurturing the twins but he was beyond relieved that she was no longer pregnant and he could be more useful now.

He’d missed out on this part of Theo’s life so he would do everything in his power to be here for this now. He was beyond determined to be the best father that he could be to his little girls and it showed in the way he was chomping at the bit to learn and help wherever he could.

“God,” (Y/N) laughed, pulling Sebastian from his thoughts. “I endure two tough pregnancies and birth three children, only for them to come out looking just like you.” She scooted up in the bed, lying Alina on her thighs as she reswaddled the wiggling baby back in her blanket. “At least I think they might have my nose.”

“Sorry?” He chuckled, face scrunched and head tilted questionably to the side. He offered her a little shrug as he stood from the chair, “Strong genetics, I guess.” He carefully placed Viviana in her open crib, pressing a quick kiss to each of her chubby cheeks after he’d swaddled her back up.

“That’s a good thing.” She whispered as he approached the side of the bed, leaning down to steal a chaste kiss. “You have really good genetics.”

“So do you.” He grinned, pecking her lips once more before gently picking Alina up, one hand supporting her head and the other on her bottom, and placing her in the crib beside her sister.

He took a few moments to admire them. Pride washed through him as he did. He’d helped make these two beautiful babies. He still couldn’t truly believe they were actually here and that they were his. That (Y/N) had chosen him to be the father of her children.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.” He spoke up, tearing his eyes away from the slumbering bundles and to (Y/N) lying on the bed. She looked breathtaking even with the dark rings under her eyes, messy bun flopping every which way, and a huge hospital gown hanging off her frame, exposing her shoulders.

“Oh, stop.” She giggled bashfully, cheeks flaming red, “You’re just saying that. I look terrible right now.” She shook her head, biting her lip to stifle a laugh. “I’m wearing a fucking diaper right now.”

He threw his head back and hand over his mouth to muffle his laughter, a cheek aching grin splitting across his face, “What? You didn’t hear? Diapers are sexy.”

“You’re so full of shit.” She giggled, shooting him a playful glare as she tossed an extra pillow in his direction.

He caught it easily, tossing it onto the chair beside her bed.

“I had today all planned out, you know?” He smiled, squatting down to rummage through the duffle bag next to his chair.

“What do you mean?” He could feel her eyes burning into the back of his head, no doubt she was wondering what he was doing. “I thought you didn’t want to do anything at all.”

Once he found what he was looking for, he slipped it in his pocket and stood back up, wiping the sweat from his palms along his gym shorts. “See, that’s what I told you but I had this whole big day planned out.” He took slow steps towards her, watching the way her eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed in confusion. “I wanted to spend the afternoon with you and Theo, take him to the aquarium downtown.” He stopped at the edge of the bed, clasping her left hand between his own. He brought it up to his lips, pressing a few kisses to the tops of her knuckles. “Then I was gonna whisk you away for a really nice dinner, followed by a little walk through Central Park.” He bit his lip, heart racing in his chest as he slipped down onto one knee, free hand fishing the little velvet box out of his pocket.

“Sebastian.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, beautiful eyes as wide as saucers as she watched every movement with a baited breath. “What are you doing?”

“Then I was gonna get down on one knee, smack dab in the middle of the park, and ask you to marry me.” He chuckled to himself, shaking his head softly. “I know it's cheesy, right?”

“Oh my God.”

“But then you went into labor and that definitely wasn’t the time. I thought maybe I should wait but for what?” He asked, though she wasn’t sure she was meant to answer. Not like she could, her brain had completely melted to butter and forgotten how to function or form a thought. “For the babies to come home? For them to grow a little bigger? Or maybe another big holiday?” He shook his head, pressing another kiss to the back of her hand. “I can’t wait that long. It was hard enough hiding this thing for the past—I don’t know, two months.” He chuckled, shoulders shrugging softly, “I can’t even tell you how many times it almost just slipped out.”

“You, (Y/N) (Y/M/N) (Y/L/N), are the best decision I ever made.” He took a deep breath, eyes flashing to the ceiling as he willed himself not to cry. He couldn’t help it, not when she already had tears spilling down her cheeks and her lips were shaped into a quivering pout. “From the very first time I saw you, you took my breath away and rocked my world. I knew almost immediately you were going to mean something to me. But then life got in the way I guess or maybe it just wasn’t our time.” He offered her a watery smile, giving her hand a little squeeze as she began to cry softly, “Flash forward three years later, I came to find out that we had created something so beautiful on a night that meant so much to me. I was presented with another chance and I wasn’t going to waste it.”

“Despite how much I wish I hadn’t missed out on those three years, I truly believe that everything happens for a reason.” He continued, “One thing I do know is that I was meant to find you again and this-” He gestured between the two of them, “Me and you. We were meant to be.”

“Words can’t begin to describe how much I love you so I want to spend the rest of my life trying to show you.” Sebastian flicked open the box to reveal the most gorgeous ring she’d ever seen. It wasn’t too big, where it’d get caught on everything or rip her gloves if she ever decided to go back to work at the hospital, but it was big enough to let everyone know she was spoken for—that she was his. “I know that we’ve been going at life a little bit backwards but will you marry me?”

“Yes.” She choked out, yanking him forward once he was back on two feet. She wasted no time throwing both arms around his neck and crashing her lips into his. “Yes. I’ll marry you.” She whispered against his lips.

Sebastian drew back, pressing a few more quick pecks to her lips before he fumbled to slip the ring on her left ring finger. It fit perfectly and the sight of it resting there, where it belonged, had his heart crawling up his throat. The proposal might not have gone as planned but the outcome was just as he’d hoped for.

He would officially make her his. Give her the same last name as him and their babies. Spend the rest of his days with her by his side.

“I love you.” She smiled, cupping his face between her hands, the cool press of the ring against his cheek made butterflies erupt within his naval.

“I love you, dragul meu.” He whispered, forehead pressed against hers, lips a breath away. “I can’t wait to make you my wife.”

—————

“Alright, bubs.” Sebastian stopped in front of the door, squatting down so he was eye level with Theo. He placed a large hand on each of his shoulders, directing the bouncing toddler to look at him, “You have to be super quiet because your baby sisters are sleeping, alright?”

“Okay, daddy.” Theo nodded, lips in a serious pout as he brought his index finger to his lips. “Shh.”

Sebastian chuckled, leaning forward to lay a tender kiss against the boy’s forehead before straightening up, the toddler’s hand grasping his. “You ready?” He asked, turning slightly to look at the three eager grandparents behind them.

There was a collection of ‘yes’ and quick nods, all of them wearing brilliant smiles on their faces. Especially Georgeta, who, like him, missed out on these types of moments with Theo. She was ready to meet her newborn granddaughters and witness with her very own eyes, her son interacting with his new babies. This was a moment she'd dreamed of for as long as she could remember, something she wished so badly that he could have and now it was finally happening. The family he’d found had now grown.

Sebastian pushed open the door, heart beating frantically in his chest as he guided Theo into the room.

“Momma.” Theo whispered, releasing his dad’s hand to run to the side of her hospital bed. The man was quick to follow, hoisting him up onto the edge of the bed so (Y/N) didn’t have to. “Momma.”

“Hi, my love.” She cooed, a content smile spreading across her face. She took her very first baby in her arms, pressing him to her chest and running her fingers through his curls as he snuggled into her. “How are you? Did you have fun with your grandparents?”

“Good.” He mumbled against the skin of her neck, happy to be in his momma’s arms after being apart all day. Although he hadn’t understood what was going on, he’d been very worried this morning. It was evident in his reluctance to leave when his grandparents had come to pick him up. “Missed you.”

“I missed you too, baby.” (Y/N) whispered, pressing soft kisses to his chubby cheeks. She drew back after a moment, cradling his head to look him in the eye. “Theo, do you want to meet your baby sisters?”

The tot nodded, blue eyes alight and the sweetest little blush on his cheeks.

“Okay, daddy’s going to bring them over here.” (Y/N) started, stealing a glance at Sebastian who watched on from his position by the open cribs, chatting with his mom and her parents as they cooed and fussed over the sleeping babies. “But you have to be very careful, nice touches only, okay? They are very small and fragile. We have to be gentle and quiet.”

“Okay, momma.” Theo smiled, letting her guide him to sit between her parted legs, his back pressed to her chest. “Nice touches and-” He brought his index finger to his lips again, “Shh.”

“Yeah, bubs.” Sebastian piped up, strolling up to the side of the bed with Alina cradled in his large hands. “They’re sleeping and we don’t want to wake them.”

Theo’s eyes widened and his lips parted ever so slightly as his dad carefully placed the newborn in his lap, (Y/N)’s hands supporting the babe’s head and toosh. Alina wriggled a little within her blanket, pink pouty lips splitting in a big yawn but her eyes remained closed, lashes fluttering against her rosy cheeks.

“This is your baby sister, Alina.” (Y/N) said quietly, a heartwarming smile tugging at the corner of her lips as she watched Theo’s expression turn completely awestruck. “What do you think?”

“Wow.” Theo giggled delightfully, little finger lifting to touch his sister’s tiny button nose. He glanced up at (Y/N) and she gave him an encouraging smile before his gaze flickered to Sebastian as he sunk down on the edge of the bed, Viviana now cradled in the crook of his arm. “Two.”

“Yup. You have two little sisters.” Sebastian chuckled, leaning forward so that Theo could get a better look at his other sister. “This is Viviana.”

Theo lifted his hand toward the second baby, eyes full of wonder as he ran a finger down Viviana’s chubby cheek. The newborn didn’t react, sleeping heavily and soundly against her father’s chest.

“Pretty cool, huh?” He asked, running his free hand through Theo’s dark locks as his bright eyes flickered between the two sleeping babies, little fingers touching and tracing along their tiny features, studying them.

“Yeah.” Theo giggled, offering his dad a bright smile before he lent down to press the sweetest kiss to Alina’s cheek, whispering kind words and greetings to the sleeping twins, “Hi, little sisters.”

Sebastian could hear the shuffling and clicks behind him, the telltale sign that (Y/M/N) and his mother were taking hundreds of pictures of this precious moment. He lifted his eyes to meet (Y/N)’s to find she was already looking at him. He could see it in her face, the love and happiness that resided within her. It made his heart flip wildly from where it rested in his chest and he vowed to make sure she smiled like that at least once a day, for the rest of his days.

She brushed her left hand down on his cheek, the cool ring adorning her ring finger, pressed against his warm skin was a welcomed reminder that she would be by his side for the remainder of this life and forevermore. He leaned in, meeting her halfway and connecting their lips in a soft, passionate kiss.

Just one night.

That’s all it was ever supposed to be. Four years ago, when he woke the next morning to an empty bed, he was beyond disappointed and a little devastated. Because maybe, just maybe, a part of him knew that they were meant for more than just one extraordinary night.

They were meant for an extraordinary life.

Looking at her now, a diamond ring on her finger, an unspoken promise to make her his wife, the sweetest son and two beautiful baby girls in their arms.

This was it for him.

She was it for him.

For this one life and whatever lies beyond.

—————

Tag list: @shellbilee @white-wolf-buckaroo @runawayolives @missusbarnes-rogers-laufeyson @leyannrae @tanyaherondale @ajeff855

[thedrarrylibrarian]

Hello, I hope this is okay. I would like to make a recommendation for the Memory Loss requester justawolfstarshipper:

"The Stars Have Courage" by fantalf.

It's absolutely beautiful and soul crushing. I cried through one and a half chapter. It also has a very interesting take on magical theory and Celtic mythology. Within the story, the story is told like a double track line. Which is suited the story very well and is a style not often used in that way, I think. And of course, despite all the tears, it has a happy ending!

~ waterfalls-moon

PS: If this is not okay, please feel free to ignore. I wish you a nice day anyway. :3

Hello and Happy Friday! We're going to keep on with the theme of this week's rec list - Memory Loss.

Thank you so much to @waterfalls-moon for sending us a donation. Donations (or community given recommendations) are ALWAYS welcome in the library. If you want to make a donation, check out this link to learn more about the library's donation policy.

This week's Happy Hour fic is The Stars Have Courage by @fantalfart (85,146 words, rated M)

Draco can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t move. He can’t hear anything besides the buzzing in his ears. The walls are closing in. The world becomes smaller, narrowing itself to the pain in his chest, and it becomes the only thing that makes sense. He tries to cry. Maybe he is crying, but there are no tears anymore.

Luna’s words echo endlessly in his brain. Harry doesn’t remember. Harry doesn’t love Draco. Repeating ceaselessly. Infinite, Harry used to say.

—

Draco waited five long years to watch his husband wake up from a coma. He's not ready to meet a Harry with no memory of anything that happened after he died at The Battle of Hogwarts, twelve years ago.

One of the things I was concerned about when I made my original Memory Loss list was that memory loss is a very real disability. I wanted to make a list that gave people looking for a quick funny read that opportunity while also doing justice to the fact that many people with severe memory loss don't magically regain their memories. I'm by no means an expert - I'm sure there's many different types of memory loss and that it impacts lives in many different ways.

The Stars Have Courage follows Draco as he falls back in love with his husband - a husband who doesn't remember their life together and is different than the one he knew previously, but still the same in so many ways. Parts are joyous, and parts are heartbreaking. I think the magical theory in this story was fascinating, especially in regards to Celtic mythology. The story is broken up into five chapters named for the stages of grief, and an epilogue.

There's a reason this fic touched me in particular. There was a period of time last summer and fall when I wasn't posting much. One of the reasons I was unavailable was because I was busy helping my family take care of my grandparents. My grandfather passed away in the fall, and we were coordinating so that my grandma had someone to visit her regularly after that. We've known for about five years that she has dementia. There are many things that are difficult about helping to care for someone with dementia - I worry there will be a day she doesn't recognize me. Sometimes she calls me her niece instead of her granddaughter. I listen to the same stories over and over, but now details she used to know easily are changed and incorrect. If I take her out to eat, she often can't remember what she wants to order.

There are parts that fill me with a bittersweetness too - I hear stories (though the details may be incorrect) that I've never heard before. There are times that she's struggling for my name, but I can see in her eyes that she knows I'm someone she loves and she's happy to see me. When she forgets what she wants to order at a restaurant, she looks to me with so much trust that I'll take care of it for her. She can't crochet anymore, but she is absolutely delighted when I bring my crochet over and show her what I've been making.

Fantalf's The Stars Have Courage isn't glossing over the hard parts of loving someone with memory loss. It's honest about the heartache it is to have someone you love not remember the time you've spent together, the ways your lives are intertwined. There were several parts that made me cry. But it's also beautifully hopeful - that there's the chance for new memories to be made and though a relationship has changed, sometimes that change brings people closer in unexpected ways.

❤️ As always, if you find a fic you enjoy, please remember to leave the author a kudos or a comment ❤️

Lots of Love and Happy Friday