#flying during the holidays is not for the faint of heart

[tessonaut]

I kinda like it when my travel plans have a few bumps. Means I need to improvise. Like a mini quest. Keeps me agile.

[lou-struck]

Operation: Stay Away Cupid Pt. 3

OM Brothers & Datables x reader

Featuring: Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, and Belphegor

Still in the dark about the details of Solomons prank you continue on with your Valentines dates with the brothers. But after awhile you begin to realize that there is something they are not telling you.

Part 1

Part 2

a/n: wow this has taken awhile! My bad!

Part 3 ~

Mammon’s feet have never moved so fast as he rushes back to the House of Lamination to find Lucifer. He swears he saw Cupid’s arrows fly by your head. 

If it had hit you, would you really belong to someone else? 

It makes him feel sick to his stomach, and he hopes that this cupid thing doesn’t get its hands on you. 

He bursts through the doors to Lucifer’s study, only to find Levi already there. The Otaku is panting even heavier than Mammon is despite being in the office longer.

“Wh… You…. MC…” he pants out, doubled over from the overwhelming amount of cardio he has done today. 

“Sit down, Mammon,” his elder brother says, gesturing to the vacant seat next to the frightened Otaku. 

“Sit down? The Great Mammon will not sit down.” he breathes, puffing out his chest, ready to face off against his older brother. Typically he would’ve just sat to save his own skin, but today, if different, you are in danger. Something is out there trying to steal your heart.

“Mammon,” his brother says sternly. His eyes glanced down at the seat next to Levi as one final gesture before the Avatar of Pride truly loses his patience with his younger brother. “Solomon tricked us; it was only a prank.”

“A prank?” I saw one of those damn magic arrows fly past mc’s had at the races.” Mammon argues, still feeling very worried about you running off into the sunset with some strange magic baby thing.

“An illusion, I’m sure,” Lucifer replies. “Leviathan saw enchanted floating hearts during his date and almost fainted.”

“That true?”

Levi nods, too tired to speak at the moment. Looking to Lucifer to continue the explanation.

“When Mc and I were having our Valentine’s Date, they talked about some human world traditions for the holiday and brought up Cupid themselves. They mentioned that they don’t exist, and we continued on with our romantic date, kissing, chocolates, dancing, etcetera.” Lucifer didn’t have to mention that last part, but it fills him with pride to know that he was the first one to have your lips that day and Mammon knows it.

“Wh- you mean that I ruined a perfectly good afternoon with MY Human because of a little prank?” Mammon stammers, clenching his tanned fist so tightly he is surprised they haven’t fallen off yet. “That shady sorcerer has another thing coming.”

“Yea, Mc and I are going to have to redo our isolation date,” Levi whines at last, his amber eyes blazing with envy. “We didn’t even get to finish our milkshake.”

“That is true, but so far, the two of you haven’t ruined their day; in fact, it’s quite the opposite.” Lucifer hums, “Our dear human, for some reason, loves the chaos you create and will find something to enjoy no matter what. Solomon, of course, will have to reimburse the two of you for any expenses you incurred during your dates, but for now, we shouldn’t tell the others.”

“Operation Stay Away Cupid is still a go? Levi asks. “But why?”

“Damn stupid name for an operation,” Mammon grumbles, picking at his armchair. 

Lucifer laughs, swatting his brother’s hand from the upholstery. “Because it makes sure the six of you keep your eyes on Mc during your date. The others will figure it out soon, but I have a feeling a few of them have caught on to this little ruse of Solomon’s.”

“Like who?” Mammon wonders aloud…

~

Satan ~

Surprisingly, you haven’t seen anything of the Avatar of Wrath today. Surely he would’ve tried to do something to interrupt your date with Lucifer.

After running across the Devildom on your strange yet enjoyable dates with a Mammon and Leviathan, you excitedly head to Satan’s room for a change of pace. The gift you had prepared for him tucked neatly under your arm. Not bothering with knocking, you let yourself into his room as the gentle smell of paper and earl gray tea reaches your nose.

“Is that you, Mc?” his voice calls from somewhere behind the mountain of books near the wall. “I’ll be right out.”

“I’m here.” you smile, stepping toward the center of his room. “I know I’m a bit early, so there is no need to rush.”

“I’m almost ready,” he calls, are your ears pick up on a faint rustling sound. He must be ignoring your previous statement. It’s only a few seconds until you see him come out from behind the book wall wheeling out a little cart with a peaceful smile on his face as he meets your gaze.

“Oh, what’s all this?” you ask, setting the gift down onto one of the many stacks of books that must be older than your grandparents, a step closer to looking at the contents of the cart. It is filled with a strange assortment of art supplies, including thread, glue, thick blank sheets of cardboard, and various paints and stamps.

“Just a little activity for us to do.” He explains, bringing the cart to a stop and walking toward you, holding out what looks to be a gold-leafed book without its cover. “I heard book binding was getting quite trendy in some areas of the human world, so I thought It would be fun if we could decorate the cover of one of your favorite novels.”

“That sounds amazing; you are so creative when it comes to things like this.” you beam. “I think we will have so much fun, but I have never done this before, so you may need to help me.”

“I would be delighted to,” he hums, glancing back at the window. 

‘Has it always been boarded up like this?’ you wonder before the handsome Demon recaptures your attention.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, MC,” he murmurs, wrapping his arms almost protectively around your waist. When you hug him back, you swear he starts purring like a cat.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” you giggle, scratching the top of his hair and messing with his blond strands. “I have a gift for you too.” You pull away just enough to grab his present, clad in the cheesy kitten-themed wrapping paper you found while in the human world. 

His eyes widen when he notices the adorable wrapping, and he takes it from you, holding the gift gently as if it is made of the brittlest of glass. “Thank you so much,” he murmurs, undoing the ribbon with an even pull. 

“You can open it faster, you know,” you point out as he carefully slices through the tape, not tearing the paper in the slightest. 

“But then I would rip the paper, and I cannot bring myself to ruin such perfect paper,” he says defensively at last opening the gift. 

On the outside, the cardboard box is modeled to look like a book, but on the inside, there are different themed chocolate truffles that are set to match some literary classics from the human world. When you say this at a small bookshop, you know this would be the perfect gift for Satan, and judging by the elated grin on his face, you realize you were right.

“This is wonderful,” he breathes, reading the little key on the top of the box. I believe I will have to try each chocolate while I reread the novels they are inspired from.

He looks so excited at the excuse to spend even more time reading it makes you giggle. “I’m so happy you liked the gift. It’s then you notice a bright pink stack of paper and other reading materials on the little side table next to his usual reading chair. 

“Oh, how cute, it’s Cupid,” you say, picking up the image of the winged baby on the glittery card. “I didn’t realize you guys had him down here.”

Setting down his present Satan comes up behind you placing his head on your shoulder as you read the card. “We don’t; these are from the human world.”

“I see; then how did you end up with these cards?” you ask cautiously, features falling slightly, “You don’t have other valentines from the human world, right?”

“No!” he says much louder than anticipated, “you know you’re the only one I feel this way towards. I just bought these for research purposes.”

“Research? About the holiday?” You ask, raising a brow. Strangely, you feel like you had this conversation with Lucifer only a few hours ago. 

“Y-yes, the holiday. He replies simply, a pink blush settling on his cheeks. What you don’t realize is that Satan’s mind is currently processing the fact that he had been tricked by the sorcerer. You had never been in any danger. “You humans certainly have wild imaginations when it comes to magic.”

“That we do,” you say proudly. As the two of you begin your book binding date. 

In the back of your mind, however, you are beginning to realize that there is something suspicious going on with the Brothers.

Asmodeus~ 

Asmodeus looks even more handsome than ever as he giddily leads you down a cobblestone pathway to the river. “Just wait until you see the romantic date I have planned for us, Hun.” he purrs, looking at you with such intensity your knees wobble slightly. 

You may be immune to the charming effect of his eyes, but the Avatar of Lust never fails to fill your stomach with butterflies.

“I can’t wait,” you say earnestly, giving his ringed hand a little squeeze. After some of the strange encounters, you have had with the others today, a cutesy, stereotypic Valentine’s date is just what you need to give you a sense of normalcy. And maybe a little PDA, but come on, this Asmodeus we are talking about here, PDA is normal.

“He flashes you a brilliant smile and takes you on to a lightly stained wooden dock overlooking the river. “Alright, surprise.” He gestures to a white-painted rowboat with the cutest little bucket of demonus placed perfectly on the seat. He looks a bit nervous as he looks back at you with pink cheeks. “D-do you like it?” 

“I love it,” you say, allowing him to eagerly guide you into the little boat that magically does not rock at all, “This setup looks like it came right out of Devilgram.”

At your praise, his smile gets just a bit sweeter. “I’m glad you think so, darling. I want this little date of ours to be as romantic as possible.” he coos, sliding into the seat next to you; closing the little space between the two of you is second nature to him by now, and you love his teasing little touches with all your heart. 

Without even touching the oars, the boat begins to move on its own, riding the rapids and carrying your lovebirds farther and farther from the dock. You look to Asmo with confusion as you wait for him to give you an explanation. 

“Nothing to worry about, hun; the boat is enchanted to steer us through the river safely. Think of it as an enchanted lazy river ride.” he giggles, popping open the cork of the bubbly demonus and pouring the light pink liquid into the heart-shaped flutes. 

“You certainly were made for Valentine’s Day, Asmo.” you giggle, accepting the flute from his freshly manicured hands. “Oh, before I forget, I have a gift for you.” reaching into your bag, you pull out a long parcel adorned with the biggest pink ribbon you could find and give it to him. 

“For me?” he asks seductively. “Doll, you know all I really want from you is a bit of alone time.”

Your skin heats up at his not-so-family-friendly insulation, but you compose yourself quickly. “True, but I think you deserve something else today as well.”

“Oh, aren’t you a tease.” he laughs, carefully opening the gift, The sweet specialty cologne in the gold and crystal molded rose bottle. “This is lovely,” his eyes shine in wonder as he spritzes a bit on himself. 

The scent is even better than it was in the department store you found it in. “Smells good. Do you like your gift?”

“I love it,” he purrs, leaning in close. Just as he is about to take your lips with his own. A single white feather floats between your faces, tickling your nose slightly. 

“That’s strange; I haven’t seen any birds out.” you hum, turning your attention to the feather that floats down the river further and further away from you. 

You may not have an inhuman smell, but there was something familiar about the smell of the feather. Perhaps Asmo knows where it came from.

“It looks like someone has been bad,” you hear him mutter darkly, the statement pulling your gaze from the water and up at the Avatar of Lust.

“Asmo?” you ask, taking in the annoyed expression on the Demon’s face. “Is something wrong?”

The dangerous expression melts away once he looks back at you, and it is replaced with a deep and genuine smile. “Not at all, dear; that little feather just smelled like a friend of mine; it put me in a sour mood thinking about them at a time like this,” he replies, waving the whole thing off. 

“A friend?” you ask curiously. “What did they do to make you so angry with them?”

He gives you a soft smile and cups your cheek. “Oh, nothing, then just lied to me about something rather important.”

Beelzebub~

The Giant box of chocolates you are hauling to Beel’s room strains your muscles, but you are determined to get it to him in one piece. It takes far longer than you had anticipated, but you are now outside the double door leading to the twin’s room, where your sixth Valentine’s date of the day awaits. After the first five dates, you are definitely feeling a bit peckish and hope whatever Beel has planned for the two of you involves some food. 

How on earth are you going to let yourself into the room? The heavy box in your hands has you quite occupied. Just as you are about to try and open the door with your foot, it swings open to reveal the massive physique of Beel on the other side.

His eyes light up when he sees you, “Oh Mc, you’re here. I thought I heard something.” he smiles cutely. “Do you need any help with that box?”

Too out of breath to answer with your words, you nod urgently. He takes the box and walks further into the room with it as if it were as light as the wight feather you saw while out on the river.

“Thank you, Beel,” you breathe, “Your gift was too heavy for me to carry on my own.”

His cheeks turn a deep crimson color as he stares down at the massive heart-shaped box curiously. “This is all for me?” 

“Of course it is,” you laugh, “I think you have the biggest sweet tooth out of everyone.”

“Can I open it?” he asks shyly. He looks like he is holding himself back from tearing into the gift for your sake; it’s too cute, so you nod.

He pop’s off the lid quickly to see the layers, and layers, and layers of human world Valentine’s Day chocolate. 

“Ohh, more human world treats,” he hums dreamily, licking his lips.

“More?” you ask curiously, looking to him for an explanation.

“Oh,” he sighs with chocolate already in his mouth, “Those heart candies Solomon gave everyone earlier were delicious; I wonder if he has an~” he pauses and looks as if he had said too much. “N-nothing, Mc. I don’t know what I am saying.

“Oh?” you frown as you try to figure out if this little meeting supposedly everyone had with Solomon has something to do with how strange everyone had been acting today. 

“Oh right, I still have to give you my gift,” he says, changing the subject with an absentminded smile. “It’s in the kitchen. Will you come with me?”

It’s not fair to waste your time with Beel playing detective, so you agree happily, but as you start to follow him, you realize that your legs are still tired from hauling his gift up the stairs.

“Are you tired?” he asks, “I can carry you.”

Before he can even finish asking, you hold out your arms so it is easier for him to scoop you up. “Yes, please.” you giggle as he does just that. You feel so safe and secure in his arms as he walks the familiar path toward the kitchen. 

The kitchen is unusually clean as he sits you down on one of the tall bar stools next to the island. On the counter lies a big bowl of freshly washed Blood Strawberries and smaller bowls filled with various kinds of melted chocolate and sprinkles.

“It’s not much, but I heard Chocolate covered strawberries are popular for people who like each other to share during Valentine’s Day,” he mumbles. “I asked Lucifer to enchant the doors earlier so I wouldn’t be able to come in here without you, so I wouldn’t eat it all.” 

Beel waited to eat?

The sweet sentiment makes your heart skip a beat as you look at the range-haired Demon affectionately. 

“This looks delicious, Beel. Let’s start making some; I hate to steal your line, but I am really hungry right now.” you tease, grabbing one of the berries and taking a well-deserved bite.

Belphie ~

This little Valentine’s date marathon you have been on today is far from over, but after making and eating your fill of chocolate-covered strawberries with Beel, you are beginning to feel a bit fatigued from the whole thing.

 With Belphie’s little gift bag secure in your arms, you walk up the long spiral staircase to the observatory for your date; you wonder what the Avatar of Sloth has planned for you and if he will act with the same mysterious cautiousness the others had had throughout the day. The doors part for you as you enter, hitting you with a gentle breeze that carries the smell of lavender.

The room has been completely cleared out of all furniture safe for the telescope; now, two easels adorned with black canvases and a cart full of silvery paints stand proudly in the center of the room, along with what looks to be a fairy lumpy mattress. 

It’s strange; the little mattress seems to be moving slightly. Your feet tread lightly across the ground so as to not disturb the breathing lump of blankets and pillows.

“Don’t tell me you fell asleep without me?.” you call teasingly, looking down at the drowsy brother, Belphie stirs and pokes his head out from under the pile and rubs his eyes. Shifting to a more comfortable position on the mattress. He smoothes out the ruffled blanket on his lap and gives you a big smile.

“M’sorry,” he mumbles. “I just wanted to make sure our spot was comfy.”

“And was it?” 

“Very,” he hums, sinking into the pile of pillows, “would you like to try it out?”

“I do, but first, I have to give you your gift,” you say, holding out the light purple gift bag eagerly. So far, all of the brothers have loved your spin on valentines Day gifts, so you hope that he will appreciate the thought you put behind his as well. 

He sits up straighter and eyes the bag curiously. “You got me something too?”

“Of course I did,” you beam, watching as he crinkles the tissue paper. “But if you don’t want it, I can take it back.”

“Hmmm, sorry, no take-backs.” he laughs, pulling the paper out of the bag. And pulling out the foil-wrapped chocolate bars. “Oh, these look different than the treats you brought back from the human world last time.”

“I’m glad you noticed,” you chuckle, “These are special chocolates that are made to help you sleep. It’s a good nighttime snack that can calm you down and hopefully give you good dreams.”

His eyes widen as he reads the back of the packaging. “They really can help me sleep?” he asks. “We should try them right away.”

You briefly glance back at the prepared date supplies before looking back at him. Your tiredness wins over your curiosity. “I could use a rest; I’ll share a piece with you.”

He gives you a smile of soft victory and breaks off a piece of chocolate. He then breaks the large square in two.

“Here you go,” he says, holding out the larger half to you. “My brothers must have thrown a lot at you today; you should get the bigger piece.” His words send memories of the past couple of hours flashing through your brain as you taste the rich and creamy treat. The light hints of chamomile soothes your taste buds as the chocolate melts in your mouth. 

“Mmm, this is good,” he hums. “Thank you so much for giving them to me; you must have put a lot of thought into this.”

“Oh, it was nothing,” you say, cheeks heating up at the praise, “I just saw them when I was out shopping, and I thought you would enjoy them. If you ever want more, I can bring you some.”

Why is Belphie acting so normal? He hasn’t seemed irritated or paranoid at all? If something was up with him, wouldn’t you have realized it by now?

“Come on, Mc.” he beckons, opening his arms, “Come and take a nap with me. We both need it.”

You give him a look of soft affection that you seem to only have for him. “Well, how can I refuse when you ask so nicely?”

“What’s with the easels?” you ask, snuggling deeper into his arms and feeling the soft material of his lavender-scented cardigan. 

“Oh, never mind that,” he yawns, wrapping his arms and legs around you like a koala bear. “We can do that later; for now, I don’t think opening any of the windows is a good idea. We might let something in.”

“The windows?” you murmur, looking up at the sealed glass ceiling of the observatory, “What would come in?

“Just that stupid Cupid thing,” his voice barely escapes his mouth, and his eyelids are so heavy it’s a miracle he hasn’t fallen completely asleep yet. Just before he dozes off leaving you with more questions than answers, he speaks again, “Mn’ don’t wanna lose you…”

[dewedup]

please you (dewdrop ghoul!reader)

As her eyes met the fire ghouls, she had a feeling she wouldn't be escaping this unscathed.

-

Or the band's assistant gets cornered by Dewdrop in the airplane bathroom.

18+ ONLY

Pairing: Dewdrop x reader

Fandom: The Band Ghost

Words: 3,337

Tags: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Vaginal Fingering, Oral Sex, Blood Kink, Mild Blood, Praise Kink, Blindfolds, Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, no beta we die like Nihil, Slapping, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Dewdrop Is A Little Shit (Ghost Sweden Band)

Read below the cut or AO3 link

Flying was such a personal experience; every person’s reaction gives you a little insight to their lives. Like looking into a frost-covered window during the holidays, you get a glimpse into something that’s not meant for your eyes.

Take Swiss for example, with every tiny brush of turbulence, the cocky and boisterous ghoul was quickly reduced to a shivering pile of tears . If he didn’t have Mountain sat beside him to ground him through every flight, they would have lost him ages ago to a faint heart.  Cumulus, on the other hand, was overtly superstitious about being in the air, probably closely related to her kinship to the elemental powers she was bestowed with. Cumulus pre-flight was like clockwork, she’d drink the same brand of water, go to the washroom exactly 45 minutes before take-off to ensure she wouldn’t need to in the air. She’d even arrange the other ghoulettes to her liking, so that 15 minutes after take-off she can fall into a peaceful sleep until 30 minutes before landing, where she’d clench the armrests in anticipation and send a feeler out through her abilities to see if there’s anything she could alter to help land smoothly.

The complete other side of the spectrum is where you would find Dewdrop.

He’d start the morning on edge, getting aggressively more hyper as take-off time approached. Once past security the speed at which he bounced his legs while sitting could cause a small-scale shift in the tectonic plates. Dew would quite literally throw hands for the window seat. One time Aether tried to insist that Copia gave him the window fair and square. Half the band almost got put on the No-Fly list with the magnitude of Dew’s tantrum. Since then, Copia has been on guard to ensure the fire ghoul is sitting by the window uncontested. It’s kind of cute, the little whoops and chirps he lets out as he watches the world disappear below him during take-off.

She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t in the same boat. There was something exhilarating about flying. Even her dull human senses could find thrill. Dew preferred to sit beside her, mentioning that the smell of her adrenaline was intoxicating. The only ghoul that could handle both her and Dew strung out on the flying high was the ever-calm Rain. The two of them feeding off each other’s excitement made them both antsy, like she needed to work off the energy and could almost feel herself pushing out of her seat to pace the aisle, but every time the urge got too strong, she’d find Rain’s hand gripping her thigh. His fingers digging slightly into her was enough to rip her from her previous train of thought. She started to picture his digits without the glamour, how his claws would put sweet pressure almost to the point of breaking her skin. They hadn’t had a moment alone since the amp-incident, but she usually felt his eyes trailing her whenever she entered a room. Eyes that she wished she could see without the pesky mask in the way. However, she knew it was a rule instilled by the higher ups in the Abbey, and Rain was nothing if not a rule follower.

Except for his hidden wild streak, like taking advantage of her pinned in a storage room and having his way with her. Oh, how she wished she could impale herself on something else to entice the water ghoul into another depraved moment.

She could feel the flush covering her entire body as thoughts of their escapade flooded her memory. She felt the familiar burn in her stomach and swallowed hard as she realized it would be a matter of moments before the ghouls on either side of her knew exactly how she was feeling due to their impeccable sense of smell. She made another attempt to rise from her seat, but Rain’s hand was lightning fast, already clamping on her thigh and pushing her back down.

“Rain, I need to use the washroom,” She whispered, barely making out his amber eyes from behind the mask lenses. What a mistake that was. His pupils were slightly blown, and she could tell it was already too late to escape the ghouls' notice. His fingers tightened slightly, before loosening his grip altogether, ghosting his hand along her thigh before removing it completely. How one small action could light a fire within her was beyond comprehension. She slowly picked her jaw up from the floor and shuffled past the water ghoul. She escaped down the aisle, finding refuge in the closet-sized bathroom.

She flicked the lock, taking a second to collapse against the door behind her. She was a grown ass woman. Why was she acting like a teenager getting felt up for the first time? She could hear her heart pounding in her ears, the whooshing of blood through her veins at a faster than normal rate. She needed to cool down immediately. The flush across her face and chest felt like it was burning. She moved to stand in front of the sink, her hands desperately gripping the counter as she glared at the image staring back at her.

She was a force to be reckoned with, a confident and assured woman who fought for what she wanted. Not some cock-hungry teenager driven blindly by her hormones. Did she want these ghouls to treat her like she was their own personal toy? Absolutely. But she would do it with dignity, make them beg and plead for her. Her eyes narrowed in concentration as she pressed down on the tap, gathering the cool water and splashing some over her heated cheeks.

A click beside her sounded and she watched as the door slid to an unlocked position. A narrow gap appeared between the frame and her eyes widened in disbelief as a ghoul slid into the tiny bathroom.

Dew stared down at her, canting his head to one side as he chittered from behind his mask.

“I was wondering where you’d snuck off to, luckily your delicious scent led me straight here,” Dew spoke aloud, taking a step forward as she took one back, her hips knocking awkwardly against the counter. Dew tilted his head to the other side, and she was sure if he wasn’t wearing his balaclava, she’d see a smirk grow across his lips. He took another step closer, crowding her space as he leaned forward and brought his nose to her neck, inhaling deeply. “Magnificent,” He growled, pushing closer and burying his fabric-covered nose into her skin.

“H-how’d you get in here?” She cursed herself at the stutter, unable to form coherent words as the fire ghoul pressed further into her, slotting his knee between her legs. He wasted no time, his hands wrapping around her thighs and lifting her ass to rest on the miniscule counter behind her. One false move and she would drop like a sack of potatoes. But Dew wasn’t having that, pushing closer yet again and anchoring her to the perch he had created. He used his body to keep her exactly where he wanted her.

“You think a flimsy lock like that was going to keep you from me? You should have tried harder to get away, after leaving Rain and I to sit in your arousal like that.” Dew hissed, unglamouring his fingers so his claws could dig into her hips, not painful but not comfortable. Shit, she thought, I'm so screwed. Dew seemed to agree with her thoughts as he moved his claws down a little. He left thin, red lines where the blood welled up to the skin, a tiny amount of it breaking the surface.

“There’s not really a lot of room here Dew, maybe we should wait until we get to the hotel tonight." She tried in vain to steer the direction of this conversation, but if the bulge pushing against her center was any indication, she was not getting off this plane without joining the mile high club. Dew scoffed at her suggestion, eyes roaming the cramped airplane bathroom.

“Don’t be ridiculous, I’ve got a few ideas up my sleeve,” Dew sneered, smacking her leg in a playful admonishment. “Speaking of sleeves,” He muttered, glancing at his own arms before shifting his gaze to hers. Apparently unable to spot whatever he was looking for, he grabbed the hem of her hoodie. He clicked excitedly at the plain black t-shirt she wore underneath. “Any sentimental attachment to this shirt?” He questioned as he ran his claws teasingly over the thin fabric covering her stomach.

“Not particularly…” She trailed off, intrigued to see where this was headed but also unsure of the fire ghoul’s intentions. He gripped the edge of the shirt before slashing his claws out in a swift movement. This separated the bottom edge of the clothing from the rest of it. Leaning into her neck once more, he spread his hands back to her waist.

“Tell me doll, are you scared of the dark?” He whispered directly into her ear, blowing a hot puff of air to accompany the words. Didn’t she just say she would go into this experience dignified? Yet here she was, dripping in anticipation as Dew reached up and used the piece of her shirt to cover her eyes and block her vision. Blindfolded and trapped, yup very dignified, she thought pointedly.

Dew’s fingers trailed from behind her head to her neck. One gripped firmly as the other slid down to brush a breast over the fabric of her clothing. She eagerly raised her arms as he slipped the hoodie and shirt over her head, leaving her in nothing but her sweatpants.

“I want to taste you so fucking bad,” Dew growled, his claws slipping under the elastic band of her pants. He pulled them and her panties down in one swift motion. She felt her nipples harden at the exposure to the chilled air of the laboratory and whined at being exposed to the elements. Dew shushed her softly, turning his body heat up slightly and pushing some of the heat towards her to soften the blow. “I will make you cum on my tongue, but I need to trust that you won’t remove that blindfold under any circumstances. Can you do that for me? Can you be a good girl so I can make you feel good?”

“I promise,” she gasped as his claws skirted around her entrance. She felt him pull back for a second, but soon he was back and kneeling before her, if the breath against her thighs was any indication. She reached out blindly and found her fingers digging into long, thin strands of hair.  She moaned pathetically, desperate to catch a glimpse of the manlike creature before her. She could easily remove the makeshift blindfold and get her fill of Dewdrop, but she would never betray his trust like that. She wanted to feel good, and wanted to make him feel good too. The adrenaline from the flight returned in full force as some turbulence bounced her on the counter slightly.

“Smell so fucking good,” Dew praised. She preened at the compliment. Something wet slid across her thigh and she focused on the sensation. Something felt different, but she couldn’t quite place it. As his tongue ghosted over her clit, she realized what was off. She fit perfectly in the shallow dip; the sides of his tongue were able to run over either side. Satan help her, his tongue was forked. She gushed at the thought, excitement coating every inch of her body. Dew chuckled against her sex, the small puffs of air almost making her flinch. She whined in need, Dew chirping at her as he repositioned his hands on her thighs, grasping them tightly and pulling them spread apart.

“Lucifer,” She panted as his tongue flicked over her slit, teasing her with quick sharp strokes. At her exclamation his hands tightened on her thigh, his claws digging into her skin slightly.

“Doll, when I get you there and make no mistake, I will get you there, you better be screaming the right name for everyone to hear.” Dew promised darkly, the words rolling off his tongue with a growl. A growl that he maintained as he dived in deeply with the appendage, the vibrations from it hitting deep in her core as he explored inside of her. She dissolved into a symphony of moans as he licked into her with abandon, caressing everywhere he could reach. He felt like he was running hotter than normal, a manifestation of him being a fire ghoul, she was sure.

Dew retreated with a swift flick to her clit, making her flinch at the intense sensation.

“You’re absolutely drenched,” Dew breathed in awe, his hand making contact with her exposed sex, slapping it lightly. Unable to see it coming, she flinched again at the action. The loss of her sight increased every sense, as well as instilling a healthy dose of fear for the ghoul between her legs.

“Such a filthy little slut,” He murmured, her cheeks burning with shame at the words and the reaction her body had, a visceral feeling of pleasure shooting through her. She gasped in surprise as Dew spat on her, his saliva spreading across her already drenched hole. He shoved two fingers in deeply, wasting no time and breaking into a brutal rhythm instantly. The force of his hand plunging into her created a smacking sound every time he got knuckle-deep, an obscene squelching noise coming from how utterly soaked she was. “Such a pity I won’t get to see those beautiful eyes roll into the back of your head when I push you over the edge.” He smiled wickedly as he increased the intensity of his thrusts. She felt her body start to ache and her breath quicken as he continued to drive her towards pleasure.

“Fuck Dew,” She bit out, clenching down on his fingers as he continued to assault her with his fingers, his tongue darting out sporadically to flick against her swollen clit. She was racing to the peak of her climax at his ministrations, and he showed no sign of slowing down. She gasped and let out a loud moan as she felt herself about to tip over the edge, her orgasm within her grasp. However, Dew violently pulled back. She cried out at the lack of stimulation, the haze of her orgasm speeding away as she floundered. Her hands reaching out for any kind of purchase on the fire ghoul before her.

“I said you’ll cum on my tongue,” Dew hissed, his claws raking down her thighs once again. His tongue lapped up the tiny pinpricks of blood that broke through the surface. As he lifted his head, he brought his hand down to smack sharply against her thigh, a strangled moan breaking through her lips.

“Please Dew, please,” She begged, reaching out blindly again, fingers finding that silky hair from before as she tried pitifully to bring him to her center.

“Please what?” Dew asked through gritted teeth, smacking away a hand she tried to touch herself with in her desperation. He clicked his tongue in disapproval, gripping her wrist tightly. “Such a naughty girl, no patience or trust.” She tried to pull away, but he held her firmly in place. He leaned in close, his breath hot against her ear.

“I trust you, I trust you," she exclaimed, almost feverish with need, words falling uselessly from her mouth. There was absolutely nothing dignified about how feral she was acting. The need to reach her release pushed her to grovel at the ghoul teasing her. “I want to cum on your tongue, I want to lick myself off your chin, I need you inside of me.”

“Good girl,” Dew praised, rewarding her with the push of his tongue entering her once more. He moved rapidly, hitting the spot that made her eyes roll back into her head. In seconds, she was a shivering, shaking mess. Dew forced her into an orgasm with his movements and forcefulness. Her mouth gaped, sucking in air harshly as the edge approached again. Her hands tightened painfully into Dew’s hair, his only warning as she bared down. She pressed his face as close to her as she could get, not willing to lose momentum once again.

“Dew!” She shouted as he pushed her into oblivion. She quivered in pleasure, electricity shooting from her fingertips to her toes as she soared with the sensation. Dew drew back slightly, shoving his fingers back in to feel her clench around him as she rode out her orgasm. She felt fangs pierce her thigh and she could have sworn she was floating at this point, watching the scene from outside her own body.

She took a minute to return to earth, flinching slightly at the aftershocks coursing through her body. As Dew stepped back, she touched her feet to the ground, sliding down to her knees as she reached out to return the favour. Dew clicked his tongue, a hand reaching out to grasp her chin tightly.

“Let me,” She begged, her hands finding his waist and hovering over the bulge at the front of his pants. He used his free hand to smack her hands away lightly. He used his grip on her chin to tilt her head up, his lips pressing firmly to her own. He employed that forked tongue to worm his way into her mouth, rubbing sensually against her own as she tasted the bitter tang of herself on his mouth. He pulled back after a few minutes of lazily battling for dominance. She allowed him to guide her through the motions of redressing herself. He placed a few extra kisses on her hands, neck and cheeks as he got her back to the state of dress she’d entered the bathroom in. She blinked owlishly as the blindfold was removed from her eyes. Dew stood before her looking no worse for wear, aside for the obvious erection.

“Go ahead doll, I’ll be right behind you,” Dew smacked her ass as she pushed through the bathroom door on shaky legs. She mustered her strength as she paced down the aisle, stopping beside Rain, who stared up at her. He tilted his head to the side as he lazily spread his legs. He watched intently as she sighed and climbed over his legs to return to her seat. As she sat down and buckled her seat belt, Dew appeared at the aisle, Rain’s position unmoving as he moved his head to face the fire ghoul.

“Rainy, I brought you a present,” Dew singsonged, raising a hand up to Rain’s face with a shit-eating grin, visible even underneath the mouth covering. Rain cocked his head to the side as he breathed in heavily through his nose. She felt her stomach drop as she noticed Dew’s hand was still covered in her slick, glistening in the artificial light of the airplane. Rain reached up to push down his balaclava, his forked tongue darting out to lick a strip from Dew’s proffered fingers. “You can do better than that,” Dew criticized, shoving the digits into Rain’s mouth. The water ghoul hummed happily as he hollowed his cheeks, sucking down Dew’s fingers hungrily. Dew pulled his hand back slowly, a tiny trail of saliva following the movement from Rain’s mouth. She was sure she’d never seen a more indecent display, her core clenching desperately at the scene.

“Now let me through, we’re about to land,” Dew complained, pushing Rain’s legs to the side as he shuffled back to his window seat.

The plane landed similarly to how it took off. Dew glued to the window, whooping in excitement as the ground neared. Rain’s hand stayed pressed to her thigh, squeezing slightly as the wheels touched down. Swiss sobbed in the row behind them, Mountain shushing him as he pulled him into his chest.

[prongsfootandco]

Ship: James/Sirius Rating: T Summary: Sirius decides to take an impromptu holiday to the Potters' house over summer, but he didn't quite think about the consequences of his actions, namely sharing a very small bed with his very best friend.

_

Sirius wasn’t running away. No, he was far too proud for that - a folly of the Black line that hadn’t escaped even him. So he definitely wasn’t running away. It was just a holiday, and if he was lucky then he wouldn’t need to see his dearest parents again until Christmas. He just wanted to go into his fifth year at Hogwarts with a clear head, focus on his O.W.Ls… that sort of thing. Only even to his own ears it was a pitiful attempt at a lie. He wasn’t running away, but everyone knew he didn’t give a flying fuck about O.W.Ls.

Truth be told he was scared, but no Gryffindor worth their shit would ever really admit that. Bravery, courage and such. Only the snakes were such cowards. 

So he’d packed his bags and told his hateful mother that he was going to the Potters’ until school started back. The fact they were purebloods was his saving grace. Even if they were the sort of pureblood that would be blasted off the family tree. 

Now wasn’t that a tempting thought?

Maybe running away wasn’t such a bad idea after all. He’d have his freedom away from Walburga and her horrid ideals. 

Sirius sniffed, rubbing his nose with the back of his palm as he flagged down the Knight Bus. If it weren’t for Regulus, then he would have left his family a long time ago, pride be damned. There was no pride in staying with muggle-hating extremists. Sirius just wouldn’t have called it running away - more like moving out to gain his own independence. It wasn’t as if he cared about the family fortune, or continuing the pureblood line. He just wanted to listen to his muggle music in peace, hang out with his best friend and maybe play quidditch if the weather was nice enough for it. 

The Knight Bus screeched to a halt and the doors flung open revealing a rather muggle looking man with some kind of machine that would make his ticket. The first time Sirius had seen the bus he was taken aback, not exactly sure what he’d been expecting but it wasn’t a giant purple bus that looked more like the red double deckers he’d seen around London, than any wizarding transport. Although, come to think of it… the Hogwarts Express was just a train. No wizard seemed to get all superior about muggle transportation when it involved the Hogwarts Express. It was just a fact of life, and really did prove Sirius’ point that the wizarding world needed to get with the times. Swap out electricity with magic and muggle technology could be brilliant! 

“Where to?” the man asked, tilting his hat. 

“Potter Manor?” 

To James. 

Sirius couldn’t think of a better way to spend the rest of his summer, and maybe by next year he could move out all together. He just needed to find a way to convince Reg to come with h im . There was no way in hell that he would leave his brother to the wolves that were his dear, beloved family. 

The conductor printed out a ticket to give to Sirius who flopped down on one of the beds on the bottom deck, right below the chandelier and it was not a moment too soon as the bus sped off through London, darting and weaving through the traffic, throwing any unprepared passengers at the windows, sending them hurtling down the aisle. Smirking, Sirius remembered his first trip on the bus. He’d landed on the Potters’ door step covered in bruises with blood streaming down his face. The Knight Bus was not for the faint hearted, but it was quick and cheap and all in all a good laugh! Sirius needed more of those, and during summer without his friends, laughter was sorely lacking. 

Outside the window, the English countryside flew by as Sirius tapped out a rhythm on his legs, waiting for the conductor to announce his stop. The bus lurched to a stop a couple of times before hitting Somerset, once to let off an elderly witch and her cat and once to pick up a drunkard on his way home to Yorkshire. Reluctantly, Sirius gave up his bed to the drunkard, knowing that the idiot would never survive the trip on his feet. The last stop threw Sirius against the rails and he lost his footing, but he just about managed to stay upright, grasping onto the rails as his knees buckled. 

“Potter Manor!”

Sirius grinned and pulled his hood over his head as he stepped into the rain, winking at the conductor as his trunk was deposited on the pavement. It had been far too long since he’d seen James, almost a whole two weeks and their last adventure had been cut short by Kreacher’s unfortunate appearance, demanding that Sirius returned to Grimmauld Place. He couldn’t wait to see his best friend again, and Mrs Potter always had the best food for dinner, rivalling that of the Hogwarts’ elves. 

Without waiting another minute, Sirius dragged his trunk up the garden path, dancing into the muddy puddles as he went. He tapped his wand on the large door knocker to wake it up from its slumber and smiled brightly as he heard the bells ringing inside the great house. The moon still shone from the gaps between the clouds, bathing the front lawn in a silvery glow, and Sirius knew he should feel bad for waking the Potters so late at night, but he couldn’t help the joy that ran through his veins. There were still three weeks of the summer holidays left and he wouldn’t have to face his parents any longer! 

He just hoped the repercussions wouldn’t be too bad when he did eventually return to London at Christmas. There was no doubt that Regulus would let him know precisely how much trouble he was in when they met in September. The thought of his brother left a dark stain on the happier thoughts in his mind. 

Without his presence, Grimmauld Place would surely be unforgiving. 

“Next year we leave together, Reg,” Sirius muttered, but he knew deep down that his brother was far too caught under his parents’ thumbs and had no intention of becoming a blood traitor. 

It stung. No. It was more than that, a deep ache that sat deep in Sirius’ bones. Despite their arguments and spats… Sirius loved his brother. The chasm that lay between them already was perhaps his biggest regret. 

But before he could linger on those thoughts any more, the door flew open to reveal Fleamont Potter. James’ father looked exhausted and bewildered as he peered down at Sirius. After a moment, sleep seemed to shift enough for the elderly wizard to realise who was on his doorstep, and he rolled his eyes, a fond but exasperated smile dancing on his lips. 

“Well then, you’d better come in.”

“Thanks, Mr Potter!” Sirius hauled his trunk inside, smiling up at Mr Potter as the man waved his wand, muttering a quick spell. 

The rain evaporated from Sirius’ clothes and he felt the welcoming embrace of the warming charm wrap around his body. 

“You know where James’ room is. You’ll have to share, I'm afraid. It’s far too late to start fussing now. You and I will talk in the morning, young man.” And with that, Mr Potter climbed back up the stairs and disappeared into the master bedroom. 

Sirius peered around. It was odd seeing the Potters’ house so quiet. Usually it was brimming with life and magic and cheer, but he did usually rock up at a more respectable time of day. Despite his age, Sirius drew his wand from his robes, knowing a quick charm in a wizarding house would hardly be a bother to the ministry, after all he’d done a lot worse over his years at school. 

“Lumos,” he whispered. 

His wand glowed with a faint hum, and Sirius made his way upstairs. Artfully, he dodged the creaking step on the top of the staircase, although he knew he’d already woken the household - old habits die hard. When he pushed open the door to James’ room his best friend was curled up cuddling his pillow, just like he did at Hogwarts and the familiar sight tugged at Sirius’ heartstrings.

“Pads?”

“Yeah, hi Prongs,” Sirius murmured as he approached the bed.

The very single bed. 

They’d shared a dorm for years, and had, on occasion, accidentally fallen asleep together but this felt different. This was intentional, and there would be no shuffling back to their own beds in the middle of the night when one of them woke up. Not to mention this was James’ bed… his childhood bed. It wasn’t some dorm bed that hundreds of other boys had used before. It felt personal.

More intimate. 

“I - er… surprise visit?” Sirius mumbled, running his non-wand hand through his hair - a habit he’d picked up from James over the years once he’d started growing out his hair. 

Why did this feel awkward? Nothing had ever been awkward between them. No weird silences, no lulls where neither knew what to say. Even when they did, on the rare occasion, sit in silence it was comfortable. They were comfortable. Padfoot and Prongs, James and Sirius, Potter and Black. They were a package - the best of friends. 

And yet for the first time, Sirius was at a loss for words. There was this weird clenching feeling in his chest and he couldn’t tear his gaze away from James’ face. His glasses were missing, set on the bedside table with any luck, and even in the dim light of his spell, Sirius could make out James’ eyes. He looked… he was- 

Shit. 

The realisation hit Sirius like a Troll. It was a crush. 

James and Peter had talked about crushes on girls since their third year, and he had no doubt that the girls did the same. Even Moony occasionally blushed as he mentioned Jenny from Ravenclaw, but he’d denied any feelings. Sirius had always just assumed he was a late bloomer in the romance department. Whilst he knew he attracted others easily, the feelings were always unrequited. Girls just weren’t something he was interested in. He’d much rather spend time with his best friends, with James. 

Always James. 

Why did it always circle back to James?

But in the silvery charmed light, James looked beautiful. His eyes were squinting, groggy, clearly full of sleep. There were pillow marks on his cheeks and his hair was impossibly even messier than usual. And it was beautiful. 

“What time s’it?” James asked, oblivious to Sirius’ gay-crisis.

“Not sure, late. Umm, budge up will you. I don’t want to sleep on the floor.”

That was both the biggest lie and the truthiest truth. Sirius really didn’t fancy confronting his gay-crisis right in that moment and the floor was oh so tempting, but as usual, James’ trumped his fear. For one bright and blinding moment, Sirius could pretend everything was absolutely fine and curl up in his best friend’s arms. James wouldn’t care, and probably wouldn’t even think anything of it, but his epiphany had changed something in Sirius whether James knew it or not. 

Being so close to him would feel like sweet torture. 

Merlin, why did anyone like having crushes? Sirius had been aware of his for less than a few minutes and he already hated it. There was nothing but suffering and yearning for something out of his reach.

But he was fucking exhausted, and the floor was cold and lonely. Thankfully, James shifted to the edge of the bed as he was asked and Sirius scooted under the covers before he could change his mind. 

“Oi!”

“What?”

“You’re wet and cold… can’t you at least change?” James whined, kicking Sirius under the duvet. 

“Trunks downstairs.”

“I’ve got a spare set of pyjamas you can borrow, now get off!” 

Sirius was dumped onto the floor unceremoniously and within minutes the pair of them were laughing hysterically until Mr Potter yelled at them from down the hall. Even then their laughter was hidden, sniggering behind their hands. Sirius eventually pulled on a pair of garish quidditch pyjamas, trying not to blush as he stripped out of his sodden clothes. After years of sharing a room together, James didn’t even blink at Sirius changing in front of him, but to Sirius it suddenly felt weird. 

Nobody had told him a crush would turn the whole bloody world upside down. 

When he was finally allowed back into the bed, Sirius tried to keep his distance from James but his friend was having none of it. James proudly announced that Sirius was the perfect shape for cuddling and discarded his pillow, favouring Sirius’ chest instead. It was, as predicted, torturous. 

“Hey, Si?”

“Yeah?”

“Your heart is racing faster than a snitch’s wings.”

Of course that was the moment James Potter had suddenly decided to become observant. It wasn’t fair. James was known to be completely oblivious, especially to other people’s feelings - not realising when they were flirting with him, or when they were hurt if he took a prank too far. But as soon as Sirius had… whatever it was that he was having, James knew. 

Perhaps it wasn’t entirely surprising. James had always known him better than he knew himself. 

“Shut up,” Sirius grumbled without any real malice in his voice and then, “Wouldn’t it be funny if we kissed?”

It was an out and they both knew it. A way to explain Sirius’ sudden odd behaviour. A joke, an ice-breaker. James would punch Sirius in the chest and they’d laugh and never talk about it again. It was for the best. Sirius would no doubt get over his weird and sudden crush on his best mate and everything would return to normal. 

Except James didn’t laugh. 

“Do you want to kiss?”

“I-”

“Because if you want to kiss me then you should. Where’s that Gryffindor courage, Padfoot? Or perhaps you should have been in- hmmmph!”

Before James could finish what was sure to be an insult to Sirius’ pride, Sirius pressed their lips together. Gryffindor courage and all. The whole time his thoughts were racing, reminding him that they could still laugh it off, that it was probably just a prank on James’ part, a dare, a challenge. It didn’t have to mean anything. Except James’ hands were in his hair, holding him closer as their noses bumped awkwardly together. Neither of them had kissed anyone before, as far as Sirius knew anyway, and it showed. The kiss was messy, imperfect and really a bit shit, but it was a kiss. 

He was kissing James. 

And more importantly, James was kissing him back. 

When they pulled apart, panting and eyes shining in the dark, Sirius felt his cheeks heat up. He scrambled to pick up his wand once more. 

“Lumos,” he murmured, blinking as the room glowed again. 

James was smiling up at him, cheeks rosy and hair falling in front of his eyes. “Was it?”

“What?” Sirius frowned, wondering what the fuck his friend was asking of him. 

“Funny? Kissing me?”

The only thing that was funny was that James seemed almost coy about the whole thing. James Potter hadn’t been coy or shy or nervous about anything in the four years they’d known each other, not even when asking out Evans. So despite the exhaustion that was threatening to pull Sirius under, he smirked and cocked his head. 

“You know I’m not sure. I think we’ll have to try it again!”

And so they did. Again and again, giggling as they held each other close until finally the lure of sleep and dreams became too much and they passed out in each other’s arms. Sirius lay trapped under the weight of his friend, long arms wrapped around him like a koala. The usual cuddle pillow was left forgotten on the floor as Sirius nuzzled into the mess of James’ hair. It was warm, almost too hot, but he was comfortable. No. More than that. He was home.

[traveladventuresinnepal]

Top Adventure Travel Places in Nepal

Nepal is a haven for adventure lovers. From water to air, there are dozens of outdoor activities one can do in Nepal. Are you looking for your next adventure? Here are the top travel places in Nepal.

Pokhara

There is no doubt that Pokhara is the most popular destination for tourists visiting Nepal. Pokhara offers a wide range of adventure activities like paragliding, ultraflight, kayaking and so on. Paragliding is one of the most popular adventure activities in Pokhara. You take off from a hillside in Sarangkot and soar high in the sky like a bird. You get a bird’s eye view of the city, Phewa lake, nearby hills, and monuments from this height. Paragliding is a thrilling sport, not something for the faint hearted as it requires a lot of courage to jump off a cliff and begin to fly. After soaring the sky for about 30 minutes, you land at Pame beach side of Pokhara from where you will be escorted back to your hotel.

Jalbire

Canyoning is an exciting water sport where one abseils down a raging waterfall which is over a hundred meters tall. Jalbire in Chitwan is one of the most popular canyoning destinations in Nepal. This adventure requires some proper safety gear and a bit of technical knowledge on how to use ropes to get down the waterfall. The waterfall here reaches a height of up to 100 meters and canyoning here is popular thanks to its safe and systematic service run by professionals. Jalbire is a popular adventure destination in Nepal for both domestic and foreign tourists alike.

Affordable Holiday Packages in Nepal

Chitwan

Known for its dense jungles where big mammals such as the Bengal tiger, wild asiatic elephant, one-horned rhinoceros and the spotted deer roam, Chitwan National Park is the most visited national park in Nepal. People can enjoy adventurous activities like jungle safari inside the park to spot different types of birds and animals. The park spans 952 square kilometers where 50 mammals, 525 birds and 55 reptiles and amphibians can be found. Spotting wildlife makes for quite an adventure as it offers an experience like no other. Travelers can also visit the park on boat while cruising down the Rapti river to spot crocodiles and water birds.

Trishuli River

An adrenaline pumping adventure sport, Nepal is one of the top adventure destinations for whitewater rafting. Especially along the banks of Trishuli river. The raging rivers of Nepal come from the melted glaciers of the Himalayas. As a result, there are different levels of rafting found in Nepal. From level 1 to 4+. The level of whitewater rafting in Trishuli is graded 3+ to 4 during monsoon season when the water level rises and the thrill also increases. For water sports seekers, whitewater rafting in Nepal is one of the best activities to experience.

Nagarkot

Located just 32 kilometers east of Kathmandu, Nagarkot offers a natural landscape with beautiful sunrise and sunsets amongst the Himalayan peaks. But that’s not all, Nagarkot is also popular as the place to go rock climbing in Nepal. There are vertical limestone cliffs where you can do rock climbing. You can find intermediate to advanced level climbing routes in the cliffs of Nagarkot.

Annapurna Region

Nepal is well known for its trekking routes in the Himalayas where you can view the beautiful white peaks up close. The Annapurna region is the most popular region for trekking. This area comes under the Annapurna Conservation Area Project, thus it is protected by the government. The level of difficulty for treks here range from easy to hard and it is suitable for trekkers of all ages and experience. The most popular trekking routes in this region include Annapurna Circuit Trek, Annapurna Base Camp, Poon Hill, Mardi Himal Trek, Tilicho Lake trek, Muktinath trek and the Dhaulagiri trek.

Sarangkot

Ziplining is an adventure activity in Nepal that became immensely popular in the last decade thanks to the one in Sarangkot, Pokhara. It is one of the world’s most incredible ziplines as it takes you through a descent of a 600 meters vertical drop on a length of 1.8 kilometers. The speed reaches up to 140 km/hour which makes it a thrilling experience. The starting point of the zipline is at Sarangkot hill, from here, the line stretches all the way down to Hemja, a quiet village near Pokhara. There are two types of ziplining available here, the normal zipline and the superman zipline.

Kushma

Known as the second highest bungee in the world, Kushma bungee jump has been gaining popularity since the past couple of years as one of the best places to go bungee jumping in Nepal. The bungee jumping includes 228 meters of free fall over the Kali Gandaki river. This jump is located on the border between Baglug and Kushma districts of Nepal on the 520 meter-long suspension bridge. Other places to go bungee jumping in Nepal include The Last Resort at Tatopani with a freefall of 160 meters and Highground Adventures at Hemja with a freefall of 70 meters.

Mustang

Another top adventure travel place in Nepal is Mustang. Mustang is a dry, arid land towards the northwestern part of Nepal which has rugged roads, diverse landscapes and scenic routes perfect for mountain biking. Nepal itself is recognized as one of the best mountain biking destinations in the world and Mustang is among the best places to go mountain biking. A mountain biking trip from Mustang to Muktinath will offer you stunning backdrops of the Himalayan ranges, traveling through traditional mountain villages, charming terraced fields and the unique lifestyle of the people.

Gorak Shep

It is not everyday that you get to skydive next to the tallest mountain in the world. But if adventure pumps in your blood, skydiving from Gorak Shep above 8000 meters is definitely the ultimate dream. This is one of the highest drop-zones for skydiving in the world where you will be taken by a helicopter or a plane to skydive above the most scenic place in the world . Also known as the Everest Skydiving, as this skydiving spot sits next to Mount Everest, you will have an experience that can compare to none!

[b000mbayah]

Can you please do yandere Itzy seeing s/o for the first time?

Here you go anon, hope you enjoy this even if it is short!

･:･ﾟ🧡,｡;⁰'•,♡:･ﾟ°'*🧡･`:*,'°•;♡｡･*･ﾟ,'🧡｡･:*･ﾟ

Yandere!Itzy seeing you for the first time

･:･ﾟ🧡,｡;⁰'•,♡:･ﾟ°'*🧡･`:*,'°•;♡｡･*･ﾟ,'🧡｡･:*･ﾟ

Yeji

The first time seeing you was like euphoria, explosions of fireworks went off in her stomach, her eyes excitedly lit up and her thoughts became suddenly clear. 

Her once clogged up mind became free from its tight grasp on life and it all became apparently very transparent, her thoughts only consisted of you and how you could spend time together in the near future.

But those are only thoughts, that's just her imagination, and that's what fueled her up,  making her want those to come true.

Doesn't help that this was during a performance and you were in the crowd, her on stage, with tons of people between you and her heart. Yeji took this as a challenge.

"I have to find her, the cute girl in the audience"

Lia

Family holiday. Some beach resort was where she was staying when she was introduced to you through her parents.

You're perfect in Lia's eyes and everyone else's; that's what made you so desirable.

Just standing there was enough to have her mind racing, but offering your hand in a mutual sign of respect and introduction? It had her feeling almost faint.

When your hands connected, however, Lia had confirmed her suspicions on you being born just for her. There was something in the way you held her, cradled her skin in your own. It sent electric pulses up her arm- her fingers jolting in slight suprise.

Touching your hand had sent small sparks flying off of your skin, an electric pulse skipping up her arm.

"You're just perfect..."

Ryujin

She'd probably be at some college party, drunk out of her mind, sick of love. She's never had a successful relationship before since she always ends up being dumped or cheated on within the first few days.

She'd be nodding to the intense beat of the music when she noticed you sitting and drinking some alcohol.

Ryujin just couldn't help but feel better about love, her faith restored all within a split second, all because of you. It doesn't make sense, the logic couldn't be possible.

But, something about you makes her want to try again, just this time, she'll make it work. Even if it's the last thing she does.

"I'm going in… again..."

Chaeryeong

She met you when meeting trainees in the company. That's when you had caught Chaeryeong's eye, caught her eye in a somewhat unfortunate way. 

She was gobsmacked, shocked at her feelings as she'd smile sweetly at everyone passing, secretly wanting to talk to you already.

And when she finally did speak to you, she could feel her heart quicken, how her palms got sweaty and the sudden urge to have you, not like a dating kind of thing, more of an item kind of thing. 

She couldn't help it either. It was either you and her or you waste your life with some random stranger, and that's a no go.

"Hey Y/n right? How would you like to come and speak with me in private?"

Yuna

Knowing Yuna, she'd probably fall in love with the shy and awkward kid in school or something. 

She'd come up to you all energetically with her adored smile plastered onto her face. However, once you look up, eyes greeting each other, it's like the saying had come true.

The eyes being the windows to one's soul just seemed like such a real thing. You could see chaos in hers, destruction and selfishness. Yet, you could see passion and love. Above all of that, a sight of dedication and determination in them, that's what had given you reassurance.

But your eyes, to yuna she had seen nothing but elegant eyes attached to a beautiful body, containing a precious personality.

"I'm yuna, I'm sure you've heard of me, pretty girl"

[sanyu-thewitch05]

𝑃𝑟𝑜𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑢𝑒 2／4

𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚞𝚎: 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝟷

𝘾𝙝𝙞𝙡𝙙𝙝𝙤𝙤𝙙

𝙏𝙬: 𝙫𝙞𝙤𝙡𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚

Night Flower grew up to be beautiful. By the age of six, merchant boys had begun to see past that her father was Jafar. A few months later, the local children began to play tag with her. Fortunately, the adults in the town were already accustomed to Jafar, as Night Flower's neighborhood is Jafar's hometown. As Night Flower began to grow up and enter puberty, she would get more attention from the boys in her town. Boys from all over showed up at Jafar's doorstep asking for Night Flower's hand in marriage. One day during dinner, when Rose in the Night was gone, Jafar lectured his daughter on the dangers of boys and men.

"My dear daughter, don't you ever believe a guy who promises to show you worldly treasures, especially if they're on a flying carpet! Don't run off with some guy who promises you the world," Jafar said, remembering his first daughter figure, Jasmine.

Jafar had always hated Aladdin for convincing Jasmine that he wanted to marry her. Sure, he desired to rule Agrabah, but it was only to cure the sandy country of its financial situation. While the Sultan's family partied, fucked, and lavished themselves in gold without care. The middle class is stuck selling produce and livestock. But worst of all was the widespread crime. Their only care was a good time and money.

"And most importantly, don't trust the boys who live in the Sultan's palace, for you will be trapped in a world of greed if you do," Jafar said shakily as a woman screamed outside. "Come on, Night Flower, let's watch a movie and eat dessert."

The only place that was safe in Agrabah was the Sultan's palace. The only time for it to be safe for everyone else was under the night. The only time when the thieves would sleep. 

As Night Flower grew up, the locals, with the help of Jafar, developed a night market as a safety measure. Fewer people would be out shopping during the daytime and could safely get their necessities and groceries at night. The night market was a success, and by the time Night Flower was 13, no locals shopped during the daytime unless they had an emergency. Jafar also had a safety measure for Night Flower. As a 14th birthday present, he bought her a baby white Bengal tiger to protect her from thieves that roam the rooftops in the afternoon. Night Flower named her Snowflake, and within a couple of months, she had gotten to the size of a large dog. When Night Flower turned 15, she wanted to go to the night market, and her father gave her his staff as a makeshift broomstick. Every night Night Flower would open her window and enjoy the night market's foods with her tiger and family.

~~~~

Although The White Queen, The Queen of Hearts' younger sister, took over Wonderland after her sister escaped royalty, Amorae always felt sorry that her sister had to take the throne so young as she did. But, she was happy being in her small village with her daughter. Elizabeth played in leftover dough and sneaked cookies and tarts whenever possible. When she turned 10, her Wonderland quirkiness kicked in, almost as a way of mocking her mother for fleeing by giving Elizabeth natural, faint, blood-red lips. At first, this frustrated her mother, but eventually, she learned there was nothing she could do. At age 12, the Hearts family had begun to feud with the Clovers, another family who ran a successful bakery. The two bakeries fiercely competed every day and held extreme holiday treats and sales, eventually dragging their kids into it.

Trey and Elizabeth saw it as friendly competition and hung out together as the years passed on. Trey and Elizabeth became friends, much to their family's discontent, and cooked together. On Elizabeth's 14th birthday, Trey gave her a candied rose petal and kissed her. They dated for a couple of months, 8 to be exact, and mutually broke up, agreeing to be friends afterward. About two weeks after that, rumors began to stir that The King of Hearts had found where The Queen of Hearts was and that he was coming to win her heart back. Elizabeth's dad, Thatcher, decided to close up shop early and wait until the rumors passed. They thought everything would be fine by morning, but someone even worse showed up, The White Queen. 

"Sister, is that you?" The White Queen asked, looking at Amorae.

"Hi, sis. It's been a while, hasn't it," Amorae shyly said to her sister, Raechelle. 

"Yeah, it's been a long time! It's been 14 fucking years! I thought you got eaten by the Jabberwocky!" Raechelle screamed, waking up Elizabeth. "Do you know how long Richard (The King of Hearts) has been looking for you?!" 

"Mom! Dad! Who's downstairs?" Elizabeth asked, walking down the stairs.

"You have a daughter with him? I thought you loved Richard?" Raechelle questioned, looking her sister dead in the eye. 

"Yes, I do have a daughter with Thatcher. Richard and I loved each other when we were 14. I'm 32 now. I'm not going to wait forever," Amorae responded, brewing a cup of coffee.

"You know what, never mind. I'm not waiting forever to see my sister and track you down again. Please move back home and give the citizens of Wonderland the rightful princess they deserve," Raechelle requested, looking at Elizabeth. "I'll personally pay for delivery services so you can continue your bakery. Please come back home, Amorae."

Trey ran outside and stopped Elizabeth as she was about to get into the royal carriage and called out to her.

"Elizabeth-Princess Hearts, I'd like it if you would hang out with a commoner like me. I'd also like to continue baking with you, if you would give me the chance," Trey stuttered, huffing and puffing.

"I'd love to, Clover boy!" Elizabeth yelled, jumping into the carriage and waving goodbye to Trey.

Elizabeth was a girl in the village doing alright. Then she became a princess overnight. Now she's gotta figure out how to do it royally right.

~~~~~

Selene's skin shimmered like moonlight from the day she was born. Even when she was sad, nothing could make her lose her light. The Evil Queen raised her to have unshakable confidence, which eventually turned into her having sass and a tongue that spits venom and bites back. When Selene reached puberty, her 'bad bitch' energy started, and her peers began to love and fear her. At heart, she was a kind girl with a lot to share, but people really didn't give her a chance. For most of her childhood, when children wanted to play or be friends, their parents would scare them away from her. To prevent her from extreme loneliness, her dad, Romulus, got her a demon dog on her thirteenth birthday as a way for Regina to have company.

Not only that, but Regina had connected with the other six great villains and was able to give Selene seven new friends. The Great Seven's children hung out as a group, for they were all they had, which frightened the royals across Twisted Wonderland. So much so that by the time Selene was in middle school, she had to switch to actual human school with Merliah and her other friends in Malibu. When Selene got home, she gazed out the window to her mother's apple orchard. Eventually, at 14, she ventured through the Enchanted Forest that connects Sleeping Beauty, Snow White, Little Red Riding Hood, Cinderella, and many others. After five months, the forest's vines and thorns began to move at her will. She practiced spells and magic in the woods, and soon enough, she was becoming The Witch of the Enchanted Forest. A person who, for now, controlled the dark parts of the forest that people rarely venture through.

~~~~~

Fae and Faerin, Maleficent's twin girls, are opposites. Fae wore pink and other bright colors, and Faerin wore black and alternative dark colors. But, the twins got along with each other and spoke secrets to each other that nobody else could understand. Maleficent taught them her secrets to magic, and the clouds above Maleficent's castle began to add in the colors pastel pink and black. The shift in colors alerted some of Maleficent's loyal soldiers to a new presence, and they showed up to investigate. A man with long black hair appeared at Maleficent's door, looking for his former mistress. The door opened with no one in sight, and the black-haired man came upon a nursery. He picked up Faerin and looked at her sleeping state.

"What are you doing with my baby, Lilia?" Maleficent questioned, crossing her arms.

"My evil mistress, you've returned! I thought you were surely dead! I must alert the others! We've been waiting for so long!" Lilia exclaimed, giving Faerin to her mother. "What's next? Do we finish off Aurora and Prince Phillip?!"

"Lilia, we're not doing anything. I've married and have two daughters. I'm not the Mistress of Evil anymore. Tell the others from my dark army to go home," Maleficent said, gently rocking Faerin. "I'm sorry."

"What? No, no, no. We can't go home! We have devoted our lives to your service and instilled loyalty to you in every part of our lives! We can't just go home! We'll be nothing without you!" Lilia cried, panicking at the thought of finding another thing to occupy himself for the next 100 years.

"You'll find something to do. How about you go into the canyons within the Enchanted Forest and find something to do there? They're my people, and I'm sure they'll find something for you to do. Especially considering the Queen and King have a one-year-old boy," Maleficent said, putting Faerin back in the crib. "You can visit me anytime."

A tear dropped from Lilia's cheeks, and he flew out the nursery's window. He walked through the Enchanted Forest, trudging through the brush until he heard a baby crying. Underneath a tree, a baby boy with Silver hair and blue eyes was in a basket. Lilia's eyes widened, and his mouth turned into a grin.

"Maleficent was right. I did find something to do," Lilia said, picking the baby boy out of the basket and carrying him.

When Fae turned 12, she helped her mother clear the clouds around the dark castle. Too many people had run away in fear and left their belongings. Fae put her hands out and touched the clouds hanging around the top of the castle. The clouds turned pink and formed a halo around the castle's highest point. Then she pressed the trees, and life returned to the grass and trees on the mountain. With people not afraid to come around more, visitors were more receptive to crossing the Forbidden Mountains. Some even began to notice the pink haired-half fairy and her sister. 

Malleus Draconia was one of those people. He first met her when Lilia brought him over when he visited Maleficent. He was amazed that someone so bright and cheerful was able to be the daughter of the Mistress of Evil. Yet that same brightness made him attracted to her. 

~~~~~~~

Scarletta remembered a few things about her mother and father. One of them is that all animals are equal. No animal is more equal than the other. She took this moral with her when she went to her cousin's palace at nine-years-old. The Kingscholars kept her out of sight, heard but not seen. Few people knew of her existence in the Kingscholar palace to the point she lived like a living ghost. She watched parties and festivals but was never at them. She silently ate dinners in another room while watching everyone else eat in the dining room. Leona and Cheka occasionally came to visit, but it never replaced the years of loneliness. Scarletta was a ghost princess locked in a castle, but someone kept an eye on her. Someone closer than she thought, even if she never noticed him. 

~~~~~

Merliah and Merisa were the babies of the family. Everyone loved them within the family, except for the royal side of the family, which still lived underwater. Melody and Ariel didn't mind who the father was, but it still caused slight discomfort that Ursula lived in the same house with them. However, Ariel had gotten bitter and mean over the years. But, even though she had two favorites, she still loved her great-grandchildren. Merliah and Merisa were born with their father's power of telling the future, but there seemed to be a hidden power somewhere. Or at least that's what everyone thought due to the future mural on the twin's doors. 

"Mama, why are Merisa and I like that in the mural?" Merliah asked, pointing to the mural with her sister and her floating with glowing eyes and hands up.  

"I don't know. I guess you both have more power than it seems," Maria, her mother, answered, looking at the mysterious mural. "I know you and your sister's life isn't going to be the best due to who you are, but don't let anyone make you feel like you're powerless."

When the twins were 7, their mother and father signed them up for a modeling gig. They quickly rose to fame, and their heritage of being Ariel's great-granddaughters helped escalate that fame. They expanded to movies and tv shows and eventually met Neige and Vil. Merisa got along with the boys well, but Merliah was like a best friend to them. By the age of 8, Merisa figured out why the two boys liked Merliah so much. They had feelings for Merliah, though Merisa couldn't tell if it was platonic, romantic, or both. But, she went with the latter and watched the two models try to impress her sister. 

Unfortunately, as more people in Twisted Wonderland began to look into Merliah and Merisa's origins, they found a link between their father and Ursula and started to close in. Valentino decided to leave the family in the middle of the night a couple of months after Merliah and Merisa turned nine, and nobody saw him again. Though Merliah and Merisa never felt like he left, especially when black ink was dripping from the walls or ceiling. Fortunately, Merliah and Merisa had something to take their minds off their missing father. Singing. The people of Twisted Wonderland loved the twin's mermaid singing voice combined with the fact they got to see a mix of the culture from the human world. Merliah and her sisters are what most people would call multiracial. To make things easier, I will use an altered lyric from In The Heights. 

"So, Merliah, where are you from if you're not from Afterglow Savanna or The Scalding Sands?" Neige asked, 

"I wanna know too. I've never seen nor heard of culture like yours in Twisted Wonderland," Vil added, looking at the red-haired girl.

"Um... my mom is Mer-Black-Colombian, my dad is from Argentina, which means I'm Mer-Black-Colombian-Argentinian...but I always say I'm a Mermaid!" Merliah answered, letting out a proud giggle. 

Although the kingdoms of Avalor and Encanto existed in Twisted Wonderland, their geography made them as isolated as The Valley of Thorns. So their cultures hardly made it out of their kingdoms. Luckily, Avalor and Encanto did have the internet and television, so Merliah and Merisa had a fanbase that didn't have to wonder what language she was singing at times. Merliah and Merisa had started the idea of a new album called La Mariposa at 14. They had only written the first song but chose to sing it at an award show they got asked to perform for. 

When the time came for Merliah and Merisa to go on stage with their butterfly makeup and outfits, the audience shook with anticipation. 

"Hola, everyone! Tonight, we'll be performing a song that's different from what we usually do. For the Avalorians and Encantans watching, say hello to La Mariposa!" Merliah exclaimed into the microphone.

The song La Mariposa was a hit. The TWMA's received new record-making views, and Merliah and Merisa's music, movie, and modeling careers hit new highs. They had become Mer-Black-Colombian-Argentinian icons.

~~~~~

Cendrillon's childhood was a lonely one. Although she was the Underworld's princess, and the citizens of the Underworld loved her, she never knew of the other gods and goddesses of Mount Olympus. Sure, the Underworld was a fun and beautiful place, but hanging around dead people concerned Persephone.

"Honey, we need to talk. Cendrillion needs real friends. Her hanging around with dead people and staying in the Underworld 24/7 isn't good for her social development," Persephone said, gaining Hades's attention. "She needs to explore the outside world, as in the human world."

"Staying in the Underworld isn't going to harm Cendrillion. I stayed in the Underworld for years, and I'm fine," Hades responded, putting down his newspaper.

"You tried to kill Hercules."

"Ok, good point."

"Maybe we could let her play with the other Great Seven's children? Maybe she could also have a play date with that Shroud kid?" 

"The Shroud's, yes. The other gods and goddesses of Mount Olympus, no. They don't need to know she exists besides Eilethyia."

"Hades, you need to reconcile with your family! It's not fair to deny Cendrillion the rest of her family. Besides, she'll meet one of Zeus's children at some point. The guy has like a thousand kids!"

"True, true. Tomorrow, I'll try to reconcile with my brothers and everyone else."

"Mama! Dada! Look, I found a new friend!" Cendrillion screamed, dragging a boy with olive skin and dark brown hair. 

Hades and Persephone turned around and saw the boy and paled. 

"Honey, is it me or does that look like the boy version of Megara?" Hades asked, watching Persephone give the boy some orange slices.

"What's your name, sweetie?" Persephone asked, bending down to meet the boy at eye level.

"Deion, my name is Deion. What's yours?" Deion answered, smacking on the oranges.

"You can call me Aunt Persephone. That blue-haired man standing behind the corner is my husband," Persephone answered, giving the boy a smile.

"Where's the puppy?" Deion asked, turning to Cendrillion.

"Phoebe is in my room! Wanna play?" Cendrillion exclaimed, jumping off the couch.

Deion followed Cendrillion to her room, squealing with delight. Night came to the Underworld, and Persephone prepared dinner for the two kids. Stone oven pizza was a good option, and the two kids conversed more over pizza. Fifteen minutes later, Persephone set up a make shift bed on the couch for Deion, and he climbed onto the bed with Cendrillion. Phoebe jumped onto the bed and put herself in between Deion and Cendrillion. 

"I'm glad our darling daughter has an actual friend," Persephone said as she snuggled next to Hades in bed.

The palace was quiet for a few hours until lightning lit up the Underworld. Hercules and his father were there, and they weren't happy. Hades's palace doors burst open, scaring the children and dog up.

"HADES!" Zeus and Hercules screamed, lightning striking the house.

Deion, Cendrillion, and Phoebe shake under the blanket, hoping they go away. Phoebe started to whimper, and Zeus lifted their blanket showing his burning hot red face. Cendrillion breaks into tears and sobs, making Hades and Persephone go into the living room with their instictive protective parental feelings blaring. 

"Get away from my child!" Hades screamed, his hair becoming red.

"Don't make this worse for yourself, Hades! If you admit you kidnapped Deion, we'll give you a lenient sentence!" Zeus yelled, walking towards Hades.

"I didn't kidnap him! The boy came here!" Hades yelled back.

"Like anyone would believe that! You have a record of kidnapping children! How do you know the girl is even your child? And Persephone, I'm disappointed that you chose to be around him," Hercules argued, pointing at Cendrillion.

"Don't talk about my wife and child like that! Even if Cendrillion wasn't my child, at least I'm taking care of her. That's way more than you've ever done for your children, Zeus," Hades growled, making Zeus create a lightning storm.

"I'll make sure you regret even having a life," Zeus stated, throwing a punch at Hades.

"Stop it! Stop it, you two!" Persephone screamed, making thorns that made her bleed grow onto her legs.

Cendrillion continues to wail, and eventually her hair turns into blue fire.

"Stop hurting my daddy! It was my fault! I wanted to show my new friend my puppy and where I live! I just wanted to have a friend!" Cendrillion cried, making Hades and Zeus stop fighting and everyone go silent.

"Cindy..." Persephone softly said, tears coming to her eyes.

Hercules took a shaky sigh and called for the terrified Deion to come home. As he walked out the door with Hercules, he asked a simple question.

"Am I going to see Cendrillion again?" Deion asked, holding hands with Hercules.

"I-I don't know, bud," Hercules answered, picking him up.

Zeus and Hades stared at each other on the floor, and separated from one another. Zeus stood up, sighed, and silently walked out of Hades's palace, hearing the cries of Cendrillion. Cendrillion picked up Phoebe and ran to her room, where she cried for hours.

"Cindy, please stop crying. You'll dehydrate yourself and get yourself sick. I have some warm cookies and milk for you," Persephone pleaded, listening to Cendrillion's muffled cries.

The door creaked open, and Persephone walked in, putting the plate of cookies on her night stand. 

"Look, I know you feel bad, but it's not your fault. You'll have other friends. Besides, you may see Deion again," Persephone said, rubbing Cendrillion's back.

Cendrillion went silent, and Persephone realized Cendrillion had fallen asleep. Persephone layed down next to her, and slept next to her daughter. 

At the age of four, Cendrillion got and lost her first friend, Deion. Cendrillion went to The Evil Queen's Great Seven social club and became friends with the other girls. Even though she was friends with them, her life seemed to move like a secret whisper. One day she was staring out the window, and realized it was her 14th birthday and that she was still a girl who would always be an extension of Hades to everyone else. A teardrop fell from her soft cheeks, and blue circles formed under her eyes. The blue flowers outside her room grew and covered the windows in her room, turning her once bright room into a dark coffin of loneliness.

Tag list: @hipsterteller @marrondrawsalot @r-0-tt-3-n-m-1-lk @lizzileth @kirijayk @renxzzy @httpbabydoll @chimamire-no-sakura @nerdy-diamonds @sleepyqweeb189 @mysticcharatertwistedwonderland

[jaskierswolf]

WOLFIE. THIS. THIS PROMPT. 32 hugging a pillow because you wish it were someone else. I AM. OUCH. Please make it less ouch.

Love you <3

So I set this in my long distance soulmate AU because reasons. This is the third part! The second two parts are technically prequels because I never intended it to be a series 😂

Part one - two - Series on AO3

_

No Distance too Great

Four years, three weeks and five days. That’s how long Geralt had been in Jaskier’s life. Four years, three weeks and five days since Jaskier’s eighteenth birthday. Four years, three weeks and five days…

And Jaskier hadn’t even had a chance to hug his soulmate yet with still no end in sight. Jaskier’s office job was wearing him down to the point where he barely had any energy to compose or write any more after work. He was yelled at on a daily basis by grumpy old fools who had no common decency and treated Jaskier like dirt, and he barely even had enough money to pay his bills, let alone save up to fly to the otherside of the world. Geralt wasn’t in a much better place, the restaurant had promoted him recently but the gruelling hours in a hostile environment were never worth the pay, not to mention America’s stupid lack of laws about annual leave. At least Jaskier got paid to take a break. Geralt was left to take unpaid leave which he simply could not afford.

Soulmates just weren’t meant to spend so many years apart and with every day that passed, Jaskier felt his heart ache more, his body weary from the fight. The longest known record of Soulmates not meeting in person was a little under seven years, and at that point both parties were crippled with depression.

Jaskier really, really hoped that it wouldn’t come to that.

Long distance soulbonds sucked.

All he wanted was to be in Geralt’s arms, to hold Geralt in return. It really wasn’t that much to ask. He was twenty two, he should be allowed a simple hug from his soulmate. Still, at least he knew who his was. Valdo was still waiting, the poor bastard. He sighed deeply and called out to Geralt through the bond, but it was no use. Jaskier could feel the heat of the kitchen on his skin, and he could almost hear the pandemonium of the other people buzzing around Geralt.

He really hated when Geralt was on morning shifts. Sometimes it wasn’t so bad, but the restaurant was really busy today, some kind of event or big holiday, Jaskier wasn’t sure. He sighed again, pulling the drawstrings of Geralt’s hoodie tight, the hood enveloping his face. It didn’t smell like Geralt anymore, which was possibly the worst thing that had happened in Jaskier’s life since Dandelion had announced he was going on a break; not that he was being dramatic or anything. Lambert had brought the hoodie with him on his business trip just over a year ago, a peace offering to the two soulmates who were still grumbling that Geralt wasn’t able to join his brother. Jaskier hadn’t taken it off since except to wash it or during the rare and elusive British summer when the temperature made hoodies unbearable.

He was just really pathetic.

“I just really miss you,” he mumbled to himself because Geralt couldn’t hear him. “I don’t like going to bed without talking to you, dear heart.”

And then… he sighed again, curling up on his bed like a cat, hugging his pillow tight to his chest. His eyes squeezed shut, and if thought hard enough, he could pretend he was snuggling up to Geralt, focussing on the faint beat of Geralt’s heart through the soul bond, remembering his scent from the hoodie, but the pillow was cold and too soft. There were no arms to wrap around his shoulders, no fingers stroking through his hair.

“Good night, my darling,” Jaskier called out, sniffing as he felt tears well up in his eyes. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” came the hurried reply, a soft warmth of Geralt’s arms around him for just a few moments, enough to lure him into sweet dreams with a smile on his face.

_

@geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde, @comfyswitcherblanketfort, @fontegagrilledcheese, @dani-dandelino, @dapandapod @unyielding-as-the-sea @officerjennie @feraljaskier @geralt-of-riviass @kueble @gilberik @llamasdumpsterfire

[comfortwriting]

It’s not about blood - F.W

Masterlist, Requesting Rules, Writing Prompts

Fred Weasley x Fem Slytherin Reader

Prompt 32: Hearing a knock at your door, the two of you panicked, trying to put on the clothes you had thrown on the floor. 

Requested/About: During the summer holidays before the readers seventh year at Hogwarts, her boyfriend Fred visits her house and she reluctantly invites him in - knowing that if her parents (strict, pureblood Slytherins) find out, there will be trouble.

Warnings: angst, talks about blood purity etc, light smut - not graphic.

Hearing a knock at the door, you peered out of your bedroom window, getting a glance at the visitor below - seeing a full head of ginger hair you panicked and hurried downstairs, almost sliding down the steps and tripping over your own feet. 

Snatching the door handle, you twisted the knob and opened the door slowly, hiding behind it so your neighbours wouldn’t see you - but if they had already seen Fred, you were done for. 

To your family, the Weasley’s were nothing but blood traitors and your boyfriend, Fred who you had managed to keep secret for all this time was looked down upon. 

“your brothers will be the tenth generation in Slytherin!” your mother beamed, walking through Hogwarts “Grandma and Grandad will be so proud!”

You followed behind her, your twin brothers chatting eagerly amongst themselves about starting school in September. Down the hall, you noticed the tall lad with ginger hair and brown eyes, he smirked at you - your mother noticed and recognised him from Quidditch matches.

“and you will not be entertaining blood traitors, Y/N, your father has had words with you already - do not test him.”

“Doesn’t surprise me” you grandad raved “those red haired twins are no good, can’t even stay in school and opening up a joke shop, how embarrassing”

“Freddie!” you hissed “what are you doing here? you’re supposed to be at work!” 

Fred rolled his eyes “thought you’d be happy to see me” he crossed his arms “I’ve got the weekend off and home isn’t the same without you being there, I wanted to see you.” 

You smiled slightly, flattered by Fred wanting you and coming all this way but your family and their outdated views started to burn in the back of your mind, ringing in your ears. 

“Does it matter that I’m a Slytherin?” you asked Fred, holding his hand whilst walking through Hogsmeade.

Fred shook his head “why would it love? you’re nothing like your parents”

You nodded and squeezed his hand, feeling relieved you hadn’t been painted with the same brush. 

“I’m sorry about my family” you spoke up “if we run away they’ll never have to know”

“my parents and my brothers will be home any second, if they catch us-”

Fred walked towards you, pushing past the crack in the door, entering your house. You closed the door behind you, Fred’s eyes trailing over the walls covered in your family framed pictures, he turned around to face you and cupped your face in his hands. 

“ten minutes, okay?” you gave in, pooling your love into his gorgeous brown eyes.

Fred grinned and planted a gentle kiss on your soft lips, he brought his hands back down to his side and enlaced them in yours, you lead him up the stairs and into your bedroom. 

As soon as you closed the door, Fred attacked you with kisses, his tongue circling yours, his hands roaming all over your back, going under your shirt and tugging on your bra strap. Letting out a moan, you walked backwards towards your bed, bringing Fred with you. 

Sitting on the bed your hands fumbled with the zipper on his trousers, tugging it down with your index finger and thumb. You knew this was wrong, going against your parents orders, breaking the tradition that had been preserved for hundreds of years - but you didn’t care, you were so in love with Fred and you knew that you wanted to be with him more than anything in the world.

You were counting down the days you had left in the house with your parents and your brothers, the days you had left at Hogwarts - you couldn’t wait for Fred to confirm the landlords acceptance of the apartment the two of you picked out. 

Excitement ran through your veins and down your spine with each day you crossed of your calendar, Fred couldn’t wait either - he couldn’t wait to finally have you all to himself. 

Making love in your bed, your hands tangled in his soft hair and Fred’s soft lips planted kisses all over your neck and chest. The two of you were so lost in the moment, you were unaware that your parents had arrived home - their swift apparating almost silent downstairs, the only noise being yours and your secret lovers moans. 

“Y/N?” your mother called out, waiting. 

Unable to hear her, Fred continued to pleasure you, the two of you getting closer and closer. 

Your mother and father trailed up the stairs and waited outside your door, the two of them concerned about the faint noises coming from inside your bedroom.  Hearing a knock at your door, the two of you panicked, trying to put on the clothes you had thrown on the floor.

“Don’t come in!” you yelled out. 

Unfortunately, your parents dismissed your need for privacy, capturing a glimpse of you and the trouble making, blood traitor, on top of you in your bed. 

“shit, I’m so sorry Y/N!” Fred whispered under his breath, he scrambled off you, almost falling on his face trying to get his trousers back on. 

You started to panic, a lump formed in your throat, you couldn’t stop yourself from shaking and your thoughts were racing through your head like they were trapped in a whirlwind. 

“We’ll be waiting in the living room” your father spoke out from behind the door “bring your boyfriend with you.”

You pulled on your clothes, not realising you were wearing your t-shirt inside out and walked over to the door with your head resting in your hands. Fred stared at you, he too couldn’t help but panic, he debated whether or not he could get away with escaping out the window, the Floo Network, even apparating - but it would do no good; your parents would want answers. 

“I’m so sorry darling” Fred mumbled quietly, guilt flying from his mouth. 

You walked over to him and pulled him into your arms, he wrapped his arms around you and rested his chin on your head. The two of you cherished the last moment you would get to spend together before your parents would drag you away from him, bounding you within the same, old, horrid four walls.

Taking a deep breath and sighing, you hid your face into Fred’s chest, forcing yourself to blink away the tears and to swallow your fears - you knew what the outcome would be, but you didn’t want your relationship with Fred to end without a fight. 

“Lets go, Freddie” you mumbled back, holding his hand and leaving your room. 

Entering the large and warm living room, your parents stood up out of their arm chairs, both of them extending their hands for Fred to shake. You swallowed down the re-forming lump in your throat and stood next to the fire place, the heat coming from the flames licking your ankles. 

Fred shook their hands and quickly walked over to you, holding your hand and squeezing it gently, the two of you too intimidated to start a conversation. 

Your father cleared his throat and pursed his lips before breaking the silence “Frederick Weasley, is it?” he asked. 

“uh, yeah” Fred replied, his pulse increasing in speed. 

“Pleasure to meet you after being kept in the dark for so long” your father smiled

“why didn’t you tell us, Y/N?” your mother asked.

You bit your tongue, were they seriously trying to play a game with you? After condemning the Weasley’s since you joined Hogwarts. You wouldn’t allow them to play mind games with you, you couldn’t bare being an embarrassment because of them. 

“you know why!” you raised your croaky voice, glaring down your parents “my whole life, ever since we found out I was witch you’ve tried pushing your pureblood supremacy beliefs on me - ensuring that I’d be sorted into Slytherin and if I didn’t you’d be furious!”

Your parents tried to speak and tell you the truth, but you didn’t let them. 

“You told me to stay away from Fred and his family, saying they were blood traitors, you allowed Grandad to slate him because he chose to work hard within his own business instead of staying within the education system-” 

Fred felt his chest take a hit of pain, your parents judging him before they got to know him and his family personally made Fred feel worthless, angry and beyond upset - but he noticed the look on your parents faces; they too looked pained. 

 “Babe, let them speak” Fred encouraged you “it’s okay, take a breath” 

Your dad shared a glance with Fred and then your mum, the two of them ready to speak up and explain everything. 

“To begin with” your father sighed “Fred, I and my wife cannot even explain how sorry we are - for the prejudice we’ve held against you and for trying to teach it to our children. It was and still is wrong, we realise that now - growing up we were taught the same thing from our parents, which still doesn’t excuse how we’ve acted but it’s helped us understand that is is wrong.” 

You stared at the floor, tears falling from your eyes and dripping out onto the floor, no longer wanting to run down your burning hot cheeks. 

“It’s shameful how long it took us to realise that being a pureblood isn’t superior to being a half-blood or muggle born, we have learnt so much from your family, Fred. Embracing Witches and Wizards no matter their blood status and we are deeply sorry for labelling you as a ‘blood traitor’ that type of thinking and belief doesn’t belong in this world.” 

You didn’t know what to say, neither did Fred, the two of you were shocked, confused, even surprised. 

“and Y/N, darling” your father added “we are sorry for trying to force you to follow what me and your mother were forced into - we didn’t have a choice and we were forced into this marriage, we allowed our fear to consume us, to stop you from branching out and chasing your hearts desires.” 

Your mother had tears running down her face, something you had never seen before “we’re so sorry if this has all come to late, for the both of you - but we accept you Fred, we are both so pleased that you and our daughter have found happiness in each other, we just want her to be happy, we see that now.”

“If there is anything at all, we can do to be better, anything we can learn and educate others, we will.” your father spoke out to Fred “being associated with Death Eaters or anything close to the sort is shameful and we don’t want that.”

Fred let go of your hand and walked towards your parents, you tried to hold him back but he assured you there would be no need for it. 

“All I want is to be with your daughter, to make her happy, it’s not about blood, it never has been and it never should be.”

taglist: @amourtentiaa @alwaysnforeverfangirl @reeophidian @inglourious-imagines

[bastillewolf]

Corpse's Bride (I)

Pairing: Corpse Husband / Reader

Summary: When you end up in an unfortunate arranged marriage to salvage what is left of your parents’ wealth, it seems fate has other ideas in store for you; or perhaps it was the Devil who decided to bring back the dead?

Notes: Yea, I don’t know why I wrote this either, and no idea where this series is gonna go. If you have any suggestions, please send them. But I wanted to write something for Christmas since I haven’t posted in a while. I hope you all have safe and happy holidays! Let’s just get 2020 over with, please.

Tag list currently closed.

Chapter I - The wedding

Somewhere through the clouds of smoke erupting from the city, just beyond the hills, lies a small town called Gloomington. Where the streets are always swept and yet seem never clean, where birds fly high through the sky yet never manage to reach the clouds, and where dreams are crushed underneath the wheels of creaking carriages and half-empty fish barrels. It might seem like the most boring old town, with its inhabitants that look like they’re either on the brink of death or very much willing to be, but it wasn’t to you. No, to you life appeared much more interesting, though not by your own volition. You did not turn a blind eye to the grey streets or creaking bones or listening ears, as they had always been the same to you, but the troubles you had yet to bear were much too big to focus on anything else.

Your parents had deemed that on your twenty-first birthday, you were finally fit for marriage. It was the age that they had gotten married, and by tradition, through their parents as well. Why they had decided to force this upon you as well, you did not know, for as long as you could remember you’d only ever thought of your parents to be miserable together. Their time with you was now something of the past, however, because if all went well today, you would be married within just a day or two.

It was already raining, which would’ve made the situation so much gloomier to you if you hadn’t been revelling in the fact that it meant you could take the carriage instead of walk. You didn’t mind getting your shoes or the hem of your dress dirty, but other people did. And the people you would be seeing today would not approve of anything that wasn’t perfect upon arrival.

You only remembered the Everglots vaguely from your childhood during the instance when you’d been playing in a similar storm and one of their maids had shooed you away, saying you were being too loud and an unfit view for their folk. Their house was a different story, however. It stood tall above all other houses, even yours, so it was hard to miss. You weren’t rich, even though your parents liked to pretend they were. Your father owned the biggest and only fishing company in town; the main source of income from Gloomington. The thing was though, the seas were being overfished, and all he was getting from the ocean now were ones the sizes of goldfish.

You presumed this is why your parents decided to marry you off to the Everglots’ son, Thomas. According to your nanny, they were a bunch of washed-up aristocrats. Otherwise, you’d never even caught a glimpse of them, let alone of their offspring. Which is probably why you were so nervous. If he was anything like his parents personality-wise, you hoped he at least made up for it on the outside.

“Stop fidgeting,” your mother said, snapping you from your daze. You looked down to your hands, which had been crumpling a bunch of the fabric of your dress together, probably creating creases. You wonder if you had subconsciously done it, simply out of spite, because the nerves had numbed any other senses. You smoothed it out, crossed your legs and folded your hands across your lap, to which your mother gave a pleased nod.

A glance towards your father told you not much else, he was too busy going through last-minute calculations in his notebook. This must seem like ordinary business to him.

Your heart jumped a little as you watched the horse pulling your carriage nearly slip in the mud. He’d been in your family for fifteen years now, it was a wonder he was still standing. Perhaps the whip was reason enough for such a solemn animal, confined to his leather straps and iron mouthpiece. You tugged on the silver chain your mother had draped across your neck. Some of the diamonds had been taken out, but you could only see it if you looked very closely.

The carriage wavered and eventually managed to stop with another crack of the whip. It went almost simultaneously with the clash of thunder.

Hopping out, you looked down to see your polished shoes had landed directly in the biggest puddle on the square.

“Oh, miss, you should’ve let me put my coat down for you,” the old coachman called out, rising from his seat.

Your mother’s unnerving gaze followed yours down to the puddle around your feet. “Yes, you should have. I told you to watch your step with those shoes. Henry, clean them up.”

The coachman then proceeded to lay down his coat in the puddle anyways, and even after your protests continued to polish your shoes with his previously clean white handkerchief. You thanked him when he was finished, to which he tipped his hat.

“Hurry up. We’re already late,” your mother said. You wanted to rip the whip from his hands and hit her with it, but your composure and good sense got the better of you.

The massive doorknocker hit the hardwood three times because of your father’s shaky hand, which seemed to collapse back down to his side immediately after.

To your surprise, no maid opened, but the lady of the house herself did. Missus Everglot looked down upon you with a smile that looked more like a sneer. Her hair was greying, almost to the point where it was white, a colour matching the black dress she wore. Weren’t you supposed to wear colour for a special occasion such as this? You’d been so bold to wear something green; your best dress, to be perfectly honest. Were you supposed to wear black?

“It is good to see you again,” she hummed, and your parents made noises of agreement.

“Our apologies for bringing the bad weather. But that usually means good luck!” Your father said. You all laughed, though mostly out of politeness.

She invited you in, and you were finally able to see the grandeur of the Everglots household. Or well, what was left of it. The unlit fireplaces on either side of the entrance hall made you wonder if they no longer had maids working for them or if they simply enjoyed the cold. There was only one butler you saw so far, the one who took your coats from you and then scurried off. A big staircase stood in front of you, leading two opposite directions upstairs.

“Ah! You must be the daughter we’ve been hearing so much about!” Mister Everglot suddenly appeared, his arms spread wide with the same smile as his wife spread across his pale cheeks. He also wore black, though he bore quite a bit more weight than his wife, almost to the point where the top button of his shirt looked like it wanted to bail ship.

“It’s a true pleasure meeting you, mister Everglot,” you replied quietly, holding out your hand for him to shake. He barely did, before brushing you off to gloat about things to your parents. “You know, we’ve picked out the finest gold for the rings. The blacksmith in town just did a marvellous job on them-“

The ring on your hand felt heavy. It was your grandmothers’, passed down from your mother and onto you. Now you had to bear the burden of a loveless marriage.

Your silent sigh was interrupted by a quiet clearing of someone’s throat.

You looked up to meet the eyes of a dark-haired boy, who was scratching the back of his neck uncomfortably. He asked you if he got your name right. You nodded politely.

“Hi, I’m- I’m Thomas. It’s very nice to meet you, miss.”

You huffed in amusement at his stuttering. “I don’t think you have to call me ‘miss’, Thomas. We’ll be married soon.”

He smiled shyly. “I would keep calling you ‘miss’ if you preferred it. Marriage wouldn’t change that for me.”

You stood there, slightly aghast. This boy was nothing like his parents. You wondered who had raised him because as you had been fortunate enough with your nanny, you couldn’t imagine his having been any different.

“Better watch it there, Thomas.” Another man strutted down the stairs behind him. He looked just about as pretentious as mister and missus Everglot. “Don’t want to scare the little lady off there.”

Sykkuno only chuckled, but you could sense that his friend didn’t have the best intentions. He introduced himself after you, “The name’s Barkis. I’m a… good family friend of the Everglots, I suppose.” He kissed your hand, which made you shiver uncomfortably. You tried your best to hide it, instead turning your eyes to meet Thomas’ again. They seemed much brighter in this gloomy place.

At least, that’s what you kept reminding yourself of as you looked at yourself in the mirror, trying to refrain from fainting as your mother kept pulling on the strings of your corset until you were quite certain a few ribs had been broken off in the process.

“Now,” she reminded you, “This will be good for the family. I know you’re an unconventional spitfire, - I don’t know who you got that from – but you shall learn to listen to your husband. It will save your father’s business and his honour, not to mention your dignity.”

You couldn’t breathe, you needed air. Your mother saw the look in your eyes.

“And as a final warning, young lady, if you dare to try to run, you better remind yourself that this family will never take you in again. Not when you come crawling back with not a penny to carry, not with a baby you got from another man. You will be as good as dead to us, if you wouldn’t have already died in some gutter.”

You nodded, “I understand, mother. I just need some air.”

She gave you one last glance, before nodding. She locked the door after she left.

It allowed you to burst through the doors to the Everglots balcony, where outside the rain had thankfully settled a bit to a slight drizzle. But you didn’t care if your dress got wet. You had to untie the knot at your back.

Quickly.

But you couldn’t reach.

You leaned across the railing.

If you could reach a little further-

But your hand slipped, and you felt your feet being thrown the wrong way as you plummeted down the second floor.

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[amjustagirl]

Chapters: one. ~ two. ~ three. ~ four. ~ five. ~ six. ~ seven.

Wordcount: 3k

Summary: 

Akaashi Keiji catches glimpses of another life in his dreams. He dreams of fields of endless gold, of constellation of stars that light up the night sky. He hears the echo of birdsong in her laughter, her song to the gods in the wind.

(Loosely inspired by Kimi No Nawa)

Masterlist link here 

AO3 link here

Author’s note: This fic is a little different from my usual work, so I’m a little nervous about publishing it. If you do like it, would love if you leave a comment / reblog / anything! 

If you’d like to be included in the taglist, do drop me a msg/ask! 

The first time it happens, Akaashi is in his third year of university. 

The upside of staying in Tokyo for university (his mother cried when he got into Waseda, her alma mater) is that he sees his family almost every weekend for cosy family dinners. The downside of staying in Tokyo for university is that he really has no excuse when his parents insist on carrying on Hatsumode, the first prayer of the new year, at the crack of dawn at the shrine close to their home. It’s not that he minds the tradition per se, but he did just spend all night rushing his projects just so he could adhere to the unspoken rule that no work should be done during the New Year holidays and spend some time flying kites with his little cousins. 

Still, there is something magical about starting the New Year watching dawn break and the world awaken from its slumber just as he reaches the summit of all twenty six steps to the top of the shrine, shrouded in the bare branches of the wisteria trees. He tosses coins into the box, drops into a deep bow twice, chin at waist level, clapping twice before bowing a final time. His mother buys far too many omamori, presses at least half of them into his unwilling hands when the omikuji he draws has a great curse scribbled on it. He’s not superstitious, so it doesn’t bother him, but he knows his mother is, so he does accept the omamori with some grace, though he draws the line at the love charm she tries to sneak into the pile. 

‘Mum, I’m too busy at school for a partner’, he tells her firmly. ‘Why don’t you pass it to Yuji-kun, he’s already started work, but hasn’t found a girlfriend from what Oba-chan tells me’. His elder cousin shoots him a particularly malevolent glare that he meets with a placid smile as his mother diverts her attention to him instead.

The faintest shiver runs up his fingers when he deposits the old charm he found in the corner of his closet, grey and faded with time, in the koshinsatsu osamedokoro, the omamori drop off open only during the first day of the New Year. The shiver turns into a ripple of cool water racing up his wrists and roars into an tsunami of dread when the attendant tells him all deposited charms will be burnt in the ritual fire in a fortnight’s time, but he writes it off as a symptom of his lack of sleep and starts to turn away. 

There’s a sudden echo of a nightmare of raging flames that prompts him to swivel around to snatch the omamori and stuff it back in his pocket, muttering apologies to the shocked attendant. Later, when he has time to process his impulse, he’d find it strange. In the meantime however, the festivities wait for no one, so he distracts himself by eating far too much dango and mochi in between rounds of tossing kites up to catch the wind. His uncles slip him full cups of sake and sweetened rice wine to his mother’s disapproval, which in hindsight he should have heeded, as he stumbles to bed that night, head heavy with alcohol. 

That night he dreams of a girl with curly hair, lying in a field of endless gold - daffodils to mark the dawn of spring. 

‘Also known as narcissus’, he hears himself say, hears himself narrate the myth of a man so entranced by his own reflection in the water that he lost his will when he realizes he cannot have his object of desire. A girlish voice lilts teasingly – ‘the flowers are too pretty to be ruined by your obsession of stories written by grumpy old men’. He wakes up with the ghost of laughter on his lips, but there’s a lingering sense of loss budding in barren soil of his heart. 

It does prompt him to pop by the florist near his parents’ house to order a bouquet of daffodils for his mom to be delivered on the first day of spring. He’s accustomed to the old couple running the shop, so he pauses just for a second when he walks into the store to find a new girl at the counter. She must not be used to customers yet, dropping the bouquet she’s working on when she notices him. 

‘Hi’, she stammers, cheeks pink. ‘What can I do for you?’

‘I’d like to make an advance order for daffodils please.’ 

‘For spring?’ she asks, and he nods, writing down his parents’ address when prompted. ‘That’s a good choice!’ 

She waves him off with a cheerful – ‘please come back again’, and he does not notice that there are stars in her eyes. 

His mother drags him back to the shrine on the third day of the holidays, and he obliges her, ever the dutiful only son, even though the frigid temperature makes his breath puff up into clouds and the tip of his nose turns numb. The old omamori is still snug in his jacket pocket, and as his fingers brush against it, he can feel the threads of the charm unravelling, the fabric almost fragile in its worn, threadbare state but he does not attempt to dispose of it again.  

‘What are you going to do once you’re done with your degree, Keiji?’ His mother asks, when they stop by an old teahouse for a cup of steaming genmaicha, the aroma of roasted rice tea warm against his cold nose. 

‘I intend to apply for a job at a publishing company after I graduate’, he tells her seriously, and she nods, encouraging him to continue. ‘I’m hoping it’s something to do with my major, preferably Japanese literature, better yet if it's poetry, but in this market, I’ll take what I can get’. 

His mother nods, smiling at him fondly. ‘I remember you used to be obsessed with Shakespeare and Greek myths when you were younger, all the way through high school, and your father and I thought that you’d end up majoring in that in university. You really surprised us when you chose to major in Japanese literature instead.’

‘I don’t know why, to be honest. Maybe I had a good Japanese literature tutor?’ He laughs, fiddling with his teacup. 

‘Mm I don’t think so though. I remember you complaining that Raku-sensei was so dull he caused everyone to fall asleep.’ He shrugs, and though she stares at him curiously, she does not pursue the line of conversation any further. 

That night he dreams of waking up in an old wooden house, shivering in a thick futon, the smoldering embers from the irori, mere inches from his face. It’s so very different from his childhood bedroom filled with modern appliances and walls of books neatly shelved in alphabetical order, but he doesn’t notice that in the dark. Instead, he reaches for his phone to check the time, bolting awake because that can’t be, he never misses his alarm, mentally calculating that he must leave the house in exactly fifteen minutes to make it in time for practice when a little boy bursts through the door. 

‘Nee-chan’, the little boy whines. ‘I’m hungry. Time for breakfast’. 

Did he just say Nee-chan? Scratch that - since when did he have a little brother? 

He scrambles out of bed, groping his way in the dark to the washroom. The cold water should wake him up, but when he looks up at the mirror above the sink, the face he’s staring at does not belong to him. No - it belongs to a dark eyed girl with curly hair - but it doesn’t make sense, shouldn’t make sense, because when he reaches a trembling finger to poke at the mirror, he is she or she is him - 

The ensuing panic and confusion makes him jerk out of his dream, but when he rushes to the washroom to check that he’s still himself, he is relieved to see that it’s still him - Akaashi Keiji, with dark circles around his eyes, staring back in disbelief. 

He chalks his strange dream up to the stress he carries around from trying to clear all his course work so he can audit additional classes over the next term. 

Except the dreams don’t stop, not even when he moves back to the university dorms. He keeps waking up drenched in cold sweat, clutching at his arms even though they’re clear of the scratches he sees in his dreams, red and raw and stretching all the way up his elbows. 

‘Be kinder to Hana-chan, Keiji-kun’, he hears the call of the same girl in his mind and he shudders, unsure whether the disembodied voice floating through his mind is a memory from his dream. ‘She’s going through an awfully tough time’.

‘It doesn’t give her the right to hurt you like that’, he can hear his faint disapproval. 

‘Never mind that, it’s not a big deal. What are we reading today – don’t tell me it’s anything like Hamlet. That was horrendously depressing.’ 

‘Midsummer’s Night Dream? It’s a romantic comedy at least.’

‘Only a nerd like you would read Shakespeare in high school – and it’s not even in Japanese!’

‘Hush – you don’t get to complain when I’m reading it out to you.’

‘What on earth is going on’, he mutters to himself. The copious amounts of frigid water he splashes onto his face is no antidote to this madness.

‘Sato-san, are you feeling alright?’ he asks his grimacing classmate in concern, lines of pain etched onto her face. 

‘I’m fine, Akaashi-kun’, she manages to spit out, clutching her stomach with white-knuckled hands. ‘It’ll pass in a bit, I hope’. 

‘Are you sure you’re fine? I could help you to the nurse’s office if that helps’. 

His classmate shakes her head, a blush staining her cheeks. ‘It’s just that time of the month. I apologise if that’s too much information to be polite’. 

Ah. But somehow even though he has no sisters, and his female classmates in high school were oddly reticent about their periods (strange, considering it is part and parcel of being a mammal for far more than a millenium) the steps to deal with this particular conundrum come to him so naturally it’s almost as if the answers were presented to him previously in a dream. 

‘Here’, he passes Sato-san painkillers, chocolate and a hot water bottle he’d managed to talk the university nurse into loaning him, and Sato practically whimpers in gratitude. 

‘You’re a lifesaver, Akaashi-kun’, she tells him and he nods, content that he’s solved the problem so efficiently. 

That night he wakes up in her body again. The room is dark, save for the sliver of white light between the blinds that allows him to discern the growing crimson stain between her legs. 

‘Don’t you know all women have to deal with this nonsense every month? But I’ll tell you a trick - painkillers, chocolate and a hot water bottle will make you feel as right as rain’, he hears her voice declare in his mind, and he startles awake to find himself back in his own bed, blessedly clear of any bloodstains. 

It must be a dream borne out of what happened today, he tells himself firmly and shrugs it off. The rest of his slumber is thankfully shorn of dreams. 

But then these dreams start to crash into his sleep like a series of never ending waves, and he’s a short hop, skip, jump away from falling off the cliff into a distracted madness, the rate his sleep keeps getting disrupted. He keeps waking up in her body, it makes him feel like a creep, wearing her skin like an ill-fitting glove, and he decided does not think about how strange it feels to have twin lumps of flesh in front of his chest (his mother raised him to be a gentleman, after all). 

The contents of these dreams are relatively cyclical. He wakes up at dawn, puts on her school uniform, makes breakfast for the little boy - Toya-chan over the primitive hearth before rushing to school through dirt paths lined with trees. His - or rather her classmates stare at her with a mix of condescension and apathy, and her hours in school are spent in a lonely silence, save when Hana-chan gets up in her face and screams absolute nonsense about staying the fuck away from her, which seems a little dramatic considering she’s the one doing the confronting, but it’s just a dream, so he keeps telling himself. It’s not like he can change anything about it. 

‘Does it bother you? That you’re alone?’ he asks her one day. 

‘Not really. I have you and Toya-chan, don’t I?’ she responds. 

‘I suppose’, he says, voice trailing off. 

He catches glimpses of sun drenched afternoons spent in fields of flowers, glances of dusky evenings spent in the forest basking in the light of the setting sun. He agonizes over stacks of homework, digs for mushrooms in the damp earth, climbs through wire fences to scavenge for eggs in neighbouring farms. 

‘Aren’t your parents worried about you and Toya-chan?’ he can hear himself question her one night. 

‘My mom is dead and my dad can’t be home often, he works on construction projects around Sapporo. He sends cash to me and Toya-chan, and it isn’t always enough, but he tries his best ’, she answers, her voice feather light. 

‘I’m sorry’, he tells her a little awkwardly, thinking about his happy family and wondering how it’d feel like to have them torn away from him so early on in life. 

‘Don’t be’, she replies, ‘Sometimes I wonder if it’s better to have good parents who’re dead or absent rather than horrible parents who’re still alive’. 

He jolts awake again, relieved to find himself back in his bed. It’s barely four in the morning, but he’s not going to be able to sleep after that, so he resigns himself to using the time to get cracking on his college assignments anyway. But he makes sure to call his mother once day breaks and he’s sure she’s returned from the market with groceries in tow, telling her awkwardly that he’s just calling to catch up and hopes she’s been well and ok bye mum I love you very much, heart pounding when he hangs up abruptly. 

He has a standing appointment on the first Thursday every month to meet Kenma for coffee at a café a stone’s throw away from Waseda. They both order black coffee, which is strange for Kenma considering his legendary sweet tooth, but he knows Kenma too well to know that the ridiculously successful game streamer is only drinking coffee to stay awake, the shadows under his eyes deeper and darker than those under Akaashi’s own eyes.  

‘Doesn’t Kuroo-san nag you go to bed at a decent time?’ 

Kenma doesn’t even bother to flick his eyes up, busy gulping mouthfuls of the bitter liquid. ‘Speak for yourself. Not sleeping well either?’ 

Akaashi shrugs his shoulders helplessly, stirring his coffee. ‘Mm. ‘I’ve been having strange recurring dreams and it’s been affecting my sleep’. 

Kenma merely hums in reply, and Akaashi finds himself spilling out the entire weird series of events – though to be absolutely accurate, his dreams aren’t real so they can’t be termed as events, but they’ve been haunting him for the past month so they might as well be at this rate. He explains about finding himself in the body of a high school girl with curly hair and a dimple on one cheek, how he’s lived her life enough in the past month that he can map out her days with startling certainty, how he knows it’s not real – it can’t be real, but his dreams glimmer with such vibrancy that they feel real. 

‘Am I going crazy?’ he asks. 

‘I highly doubt it’, Kenma says, tapping his chin in thought. ‘Maybe it’s like one of those exploration video games where you have to take your time to discover its world to figure out the narrative the game is feeding you.’ 

Trust Kenma to relate everything to video games. 

‘That was singularly unhelpful’, Akaashi says dryly as Kenma chuckles quietly in response. 

He is almost afraid to fall asleep again but his eyelids are weighed down by weeks’ worth of sleep deprivation and soon he finds himself again in her body. 

It’s a clear winter’s night. He’s huddled under a thick blanket to shield himself from the bitter cold, watching the embers in the hearth glow yellow and gold. 

‘It’s late. Can’t sleep?’ 

‘Mm’ he replies. ‘Wondering what tomorrow will bring.’ 

‘You’re overthinking again, Keiji’, she chuckles. ‘Tomorrow’s going to be just another day. You’ll wake up back in your warm bed at the crack of dawn for volleyball practice, attend classes in your fancy private school, and play even more volleyball with your beloved Bokuto-san’. 

He rolls his eyes heavenwards at her words and her laugh this time is loud, bright. 

‘You know I only speak the truth. Now, since you need to wake up ridiculously early tomorrow, why don’t I tell you a bedtime story so you can fall asleep.’

‘I’m not a child’, he replies dryly, but does not object when she starts to narrate the tale of a princess exiled from the moon, who is raised by a humble woodcutter and his wife to become a renowned beauty, with five suitors seeking her hand. ‘That’s mean of her’, he mumbles as she describes how the princess rebuffs her suitors by setting them impossible tasks, drifts to sleep as her voice softens as she describes how the princess falls in love with the Emperor, but breaks both their hearts because she knows she must return to the moon someday. He’s fast asleep when she reaches the ending where the princess leaves all her memories on earth with tears in her eyes, gifting the emperor with an elixir of immortality which he burns, because he declares life isn’t worth living without her. 

‘Goodnight Keiji’, she says, her voice shimmering in the still night air.   

For the first time in a long while, Akaashi wakes up at peace. 

Taglist: 

@1tooru @animeflower26 @kageyamakock

[just-here-for-the-moment]

Paloma, Part I

Series Masterlist - Part I - Part II

Word count: 4100+

Rating: mature, 18+ only

Outline: Statesman!Frankie "Catfish" Morales, Agent Jack “Whiskey” Daniels, and "You" (OC cis/het female reader, Statesman research analyst, code name “Paloma”; age 26; reader is “blank canvas”/no physical description/no use of “Y/N”)

Warnings: fully legal age gap; curse words; references to M/F sex; lots of yearning; a little sprinkling of angst; American readers, please be warned that this piece features the absolutely filthy fantasy of Statesman paying off your student loans in full

You left Kentucky on a sunny June morning with a rolling suitcase, six cardboard boxes, and a heart full of golden light. You were ready for the new challenges of your promotion and the move to New York, but it was still hard to quell the little butterflies that insisted on dancing and twirling in your gut. Statesman HQ was like a beacon that had been calling to you for the last three years, and you were half-convinced that the promotion and the move were a daydream; something that would be snatched out of your hands if you thought about it too much.

It was strange to leave Kentucky, your home since you were four years old. You had been raised in a small town about an hour south of Louisville, and you hadn't had the opportunity to leave until college. Even then you didn't travel very far, just to a dorm room at the University of Louisville, going back to your hometown for every vacation instead of flying off to California or Europe like some of your more glamorous friends.

You had put your time to good use, though. You busted your ass and completed an accelerated program in Criminal Justice that earned you both a Bachelor's and a Master's in one go, with a minor in statistics and data science. The result was a deep and abiding love of research and analysis, with the burning desire to do good in the world.

---

The Friday morning of your graduation ceremony, you emerged from your apartment fresh-faced and giddy, ready to walk the stage and start the next phase: adult life in the "real world." You knew that your life was about to change, but as you juggled the garment bag with your cap and gown and tried to lock your door, you had no idea just how much. You heard a soft voice say your name behind you, and it made you jump and drop your purse, spilling the contents across your doorstep. You turned to see a woman of about 40, with flawless terra-cotta skin and an adorable mop of chestnut hair. Black horn-rimmed glasses framed bright, inquisitive eyes. She immediately bent to help you retrieve your belongings, stammering gentle apologies.

"I'm so sorry! Let me help you get your things. I didn't mean to scare you." She smiled sweetly at you and handed you back your sunglasses and lip gloss.

"No! It's fine, I'm sorry I'm so preoccupied." You lifted the garment bag by way of explanation. "Graduation day! Um, how can I help you?"

"You don't know me, but my name is Ginger. I work for an organization that recruits bright young minds like yours. It's a lot to explain, but if you're interested in a job interview next week, we'd love to talk with you." She handed you a creamy white business card with a Louisville address.

You frowned. "Statesman Distillery? I don't have any experience with alcohol production or marketing. I do data analysis and my degrees are in criminal justice."

"We know. We've been following your research and your schooling for a while." She gave you a mischievous smile, and it looked for all the world like she was hiding something fun behind it, something secretive and intriguing that made you want to know more.

"Please, just give me an hour of your time next week? When you have some time to pay us a visit, just call that number and ask for me. I'm really looking forward to chatting with you."

You thanked her and promised you would call, and then you tucked the card into your bag and forgot all about it for nearly a week. Graduation day was hectic, with lots of relatives visiting and interrogating you about your career plans, and the days afterward were spent attending parties and saying goodbye to friends who were scattering to far-flung places. After you had finished the last of your university-related errands like returning a few library books and picking up your official transcript, there wasn't much left to do except putter around your apartment and take a few days off before beginning a job search. Those student loans weren't going to pay themselves off.

You found Ginger's card in your purse on Wednesday morning and put it on the fridge with a magnet. On Thursday you were so hungover you didn't want to make any calls. On Friday you found yourself at loose ends with nothing planned, so you picked up the phone and dialed. When you reached the switchboard you gave your name and asked for Ginger, and they put you right through. She picked up after one ring, as if she had been waiting for your call.

"Hi! I'm so glad you called me! Can you come by today?" Ginger sounded genuinely excited to talk to you, not smarmy or fake like other corporate recruiters you had spoken with.

"Oh, uh, yeah. I mean, yes, thank you. Are you sure today's okay? I can come next week if that's better."

"No! Please come whenever you're ready. I'm really hoping you'll like what you see."

"Okay, will I need to dress up? Will I be meeting with anyone for an interview? Should I bring copies of my resume?" You wanted to make a good impression, but you weren't sure if this was just something the distillery did casually, like a winery tour, or if you would need to be ready for a formal interview.

"Nope! Just bring yourself! We already know everything we need to know about your qualifications."

"Ah... okay. I'm all yours. I'll see you in about an hour?"

"Perfect! I'll leave your name at the front gate with the guard. Just show them your ID and they'll wave you through."

You said your goodbyes and put the phone down. What kind of data analysis job was even available at a distillery? Market trends? Did they need a criminal justice major for tracking down rip-offs, like people counterfeiting their product? But wait, didn't the government do that kind of thing? The ATF? You shook your head clear of questions and hopped in the shower. You could ask Ginger all of your questions, since she seemed to be so happy to talk with you.

When you arrived at the Statesman Distillery an hour later, you were impressed at the size of the facility. Distilleries were pretty common in the state of Kentucky, with lots of little family companies sprinkled around. But Statesman rivaled the big names for sheer square footage.

Ginger met you in a conference room and offered you coffee, and then asked you to sign a non-disclosure agreement. You didn't think twice about it. NDAs were common in lots of industries, and you guessed that it had something to do with trade secrets, Statesman not wanting to leak information about their whiskey production details. When Ginger began the tour and you walked down a long hallway with multiple sparkling white laboratories behind thick glass, you found it unusual, but not alarming. Cleanrooms, maybe? Something to do with alcohol distillation formulas, probably.

When she ushered you into a large wood-paneled office and introduced you to Champ, the head of Statesman, you thought it was odd. Companies didn't normally introduce new college graduates to executives during tours. Based on the size of the organization, you thought you might meet the CEO or President once or twice a year, maybe at a holiday party or a company retreat. But he was friendly, and he seemed to have already heard of you; his eyebrows raised an inch at Ginger when she gave him your name. He also seemed far more interested in criminal justice and data analysis than you expected for a distillery executive, but you shook hands and answered all of his questions politely.

When Ginger asked you to step into an elevator and it dropped 10 floors, you started to wonder a little. When the doors opened and she walked you to a room with a huge bank of monitors, with screens showing all kinds of maps and security video feeds, you were downright confused. But when she revealed the cherry on top, the fact that Statesman was not in the business you thought they were? That was too shocking. You were sure she was joking. You turned behind you to look for hidden cameras, expecting a prank show host to come jumping out at you.

"This is a joke, right?"

Ginger smiled that sweet, warm smile at you. "No joke. We want you to join the Research Unit, working in the Data Analysis section. You would be keeping our agents safe, helping them make the best decisions possible. And in turn your work could save lives, hundreds of them. Maybe even thousands. What do you say?"

"I... uh... I still think you’re joking. I’ve never heard of anything like this. I… are you sure you want me?"

"Yes, if you're interested. We could use you on the team." She pushed a little slip of paper into your hand, and when you saw the annual salary that was listed, you almost fainted.

"Ginger, this is way too much. I just graduated and this is, like... this is a senior analyst's salary. I'd be able to pay off my student loans in like three years!"

"Actually, we would be paying your student loans off before you start work. If you have financial burdens hanging over your head you could be vulnerable to bribes or extortion attempts from foreign governments or bad actors. We want you clear before you start with us. Think of it as a signing bonus."

"Holy shit! Sorry, I mean... I... Jesus." You looked at her in confusion. "Y'all really want me?"

She smiled and nodded. "Yes, we really do."

"Okay, when do I start?"

And that had been it, your first "big girl" job out of college. You were welcomed warmly to the Statesman team, and you loved the fact that you did interesting work that had a real impact. The hardest part had been telling your friends and family the required cover story, saying you were doing market analysis until you could find a job in criminal justice somewhere. But since you were happy with your new job and it paid well, none of them pressured you to move on.

During your first two years with Statesman you climbed the ranks, earning promotions and new responsibilities that eventually put you in the seat of Assistant Director of Data Analysis. You had risen high enough in Statesman that your work required a code name, and you chose “Paloma,” a nod to your favorite grapefruit cocktail. You answered directly to the head of the Research Unit, and every report that your team produced was vital. You weren't wasting your talent in some corporate hole, enriching the CEO's salary at the expense of your sanity. You were saving lives, making a difference. Your reports had even been sent to the New York headquarters, where they used them as a model for operations.

And the job had brought you romance, too. One day not long after your promotion to Assistant Director, you were walking out of the conference room, so focused on your phone that you didn't see where you were going. You bumped into something large and solid in a denim shirt, and a pair of warm, calloused hands held your shoulders to steady you. You cursed softly to yourself and then looked up into the most gorgeous pair of brown eyes that you had ever seen. A man with patchy stubble and a well-worn baseball cap smiled at you, eyes crinkling with warmth.

"Whoa! Are you okay?" His eyes looked concerned as they searched your face. You looked at him with wonder. He was so, so beautiful. The smile dropped, and then his brows knitted together into a slight frown. "I said, are you okay?"

You realized you were staring with your mouth half open like some lovestruck teenager, and that an embarrassing amount of time had passed since you first met his eyes.

"Yes!" Your voice was louder than you intended. "Yes, I'm sorry. Sorry I bumped into you. I should have watched where I was going. I'm sorry."

"That's okay. Did I hurt you?"

"Ah, no. No, I'm fine. Sorry. Just distracted today."

"That's okay. Sorry I startled you." He smiled again and squeezed your upper arm.

You could have stayed there forever, leaning into his touch. He let go, much to your chagrin, and then went into the conference room. You made a note to ask someone who he was, to see if you could find out more about him. He wasn't being escorted by a staff member, so he was obviously part of the Statesman organization somehow. Someone would know who he was.

You went into the ladies room, running into Ginger at the sinks. "Oh, Paloma! I'm so glad I saw you. I need to steal your boss for an urgent matter. Can you run his 11:00 meeting in the conference room? I know it's last minute, but I'll buy you lunch later."

Your brain flickered out for a nanosecond. The 11:00 meeting? The conference room? The handsome man? You recovered your composure and smiled at Ginger. "Yeah, no problem at all. Tell him to drop his notes off in the conference room and I'll be there in just a moment."

Ginger smiled and punched your shoulder softly. "Thanks, Pal. I owe you one."

You washed your hands in a trance. Oh lord, this was going to be interesting. You squared your shoulders and met your own eyes in the mirror. You looked exactly like you had this morning, just your normal self. Most of the time that was fine, but right now you wanted to be more glamorous, more devastating. You wanted to absolutely bewitch the handsome mystery man in the meeting. In the absence of some kind of last-minute emergency Hollywood makeup team, you would have to settle for a fresh application of lip balm and a quick scrub of your teeth with a damp paper towel. You flicked a stray eyebrow hair into place, sighed, and headed back to the conference room. Looks weren't important anyway, right? Statesman had hired you for your brain, not your face. And really, you were more interested in showing your boss that you could do well in your new role. So you banished your insecurities from your mind and breezed into the meeting.

"Good morning everyone." You studiously chose not to look at the handsome man you had run into, keeping your eyes on your notes for the time being. You were afraid that if you looked at him you wouldn't be able to tear your gaze away. "The Director has been called away for an urgent matter, so I'll be leading today’s operational planning meeting. For those of you who don't know me, I'm Paloma."

You risked a glance at the handsome stranger, relieved to see that his eyes were on his notepad and not on you. You let out a breath and found your stride, walking the group through the team's findings, the data, the implications, and the desired outcome for the mission. Agent Tequila asked a few cocky, half-assed questions, probing you for weaknesses. Normally that would have irritated you, but today it was a welcome focus that took your mind off the butterflies. You knocked Tequila back in place with a few well-chosen words, and then opened up the floor for questions.

The handsome man raised his hand, and your eyes fixed on how large and thick his fingers were. Oh God, this was torture. "Yes, Mr...?"

"Catfish. Um, can you tell me more about the extraction plan?"

"Yes, absolutely." You went over that phase of the mission, giving all the details your team had gathered about the terrain and the timing. When you were done, Catfish smiled at you, and your knees went weak at the sight of the dimple that appeared. No one else had questions, so you closed the meeting and stood to leave.

Suddenly there was a warm wall of denim at your elbow. "Hey, that was really detailed information. Thank you so much for walking me through everything."

You turned and smiled. "You're welcome. Glad I could help." You fumbled for something to say, trying to extend the conversation and keep him in your orbit for however long you could while everyone else filed out of the room.

"So, um, you go by 'Catfish.' Can I ask why? That's your code name, right? There's not some kind of hidden tragedy where that's the name your parents actually wrote on your birth certificate?"

He chuckled, throwing his head back. The expanse of his thick neck and bobbing Adam's apple did nothing to improve the butterflies. They only fluttered harder, rising higher in your chest.

"It's an old Army nickname, I was Special Forces about a million years ago. Now I'm here on the transport team. I'm a helicopter pilot. When we're not working you can just call me Frankie."

"Ah." You bit your lip and nodded. Why couldn't you think of something else to say? Fortunately, Frankie continued the conversation.

"And you're Paloma around here? I love that drink. Am I allowed to know your real name, or is that classified?"

You grinned and shook his hand, giving him your name. When it rolled off his lips in that deep voice it sounded like heaven to you. You didn't want anyone else to say your name ever again. Just him.

He leaned closer, like he was sharing a secret. “Can I ask you a question? Top secret.” He winked, and you nodded.

“Can I take you to lunch?”

Your heart dropped into your pelvis, and you gulped, hard. “Y-yes. Yes, that would be great. I’d love to.”

---

When Ginger found you in your office at 2:00 p.m. you were staring off into space, smiling blissfully.

“Hey, Paloma. Why did you blow me off for lunch? I came by at 12:30, I was going to take you out.”

“Oh! Oh my god, Ginger, I’m so sorry! I had a date.”

She raised her eyebrows at you, settling down in one of your visitors chairs. “A date?”

“No! Not a date. A, um…” You burst into husky giggles, and then confessed everything to her: the handsome man, the crinkles around his eyes, his dimples and his silly code name, the easy conversation over lunch, and the fact that he had scribbled his phone number down on a sticky note that was now burning a hole in your pocket. You felt like you were 12 again, confiding in your girlfriend about crushes and cute boys.

Ginger laughed and gave your hand a squeeze. “No wonder you forgot about me. I can’t compete with a handsome helicopter pilot!”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Ginger. I really didn’t mean to forget.”

“No, it’s okay. But definitely call him this weekend and make a real date. I’ll want details when you take me out for an apology lunch on Monday.” She winked and left your office.

You sat back in your chair and tilted back to look at the ceiling while you considered it. Was it too soon to call him and make a date? Ugh, this was agony. You decided that going by conventional rules hadn’t really mattered to you at any point in your life until now, so why the hell not?

You took a deep breath, trying to puff up your confidence. When he answered the phone on the second ring, you dove right in. “Hi, Catfish? It’s Paloma. Listen, I had a really good time at lunch, and I’d like to see you this weekend if you’re free.”

---

On Monday, you had a whole lot to report to Ginger.

Frankie took you up for a sightseeing flight on your date, and you loved the way he controlled everything; making sure he warned you before any sudden movements, and checking that you weren’t getting airsick or anxious. When the rotors were stilled and you were back on the ground, Frankie reached over to help you unbuckle your harness. Something got stuck, and the agonizing extra seconds of feeling him jostle the strap near your hip made you bold. When it was finally free and he was about to pull his hand away, you grabbed his wrist. He looked at you, alarmed that something was wrong, and you crashed your lips against his, all teeth and tongue and wanting. Frankie was as good a kisser as he was a pilot, and you spent the rest of the date making out in his truck.

The next weekend, you found out that his warm, work-worn hands were also magic in the bedroom. Frankie was adept at tweaking your sensitive spots as gently as the little buttons and switches of the flight panel, bringing you to thrumming heights the same way he did his helicopter.

The rest of the summer passed in heady, humid days and nights like a dream. You loved Frankie’s easy sense of humor and his confidence in the cockpit. But Frankie was less confident about your relationship, voicing concerns about the decade-plus that separated your ages, and whether he was keeping you from dating men your own age. He made self-deprecating comments about being an “old man,” and you reassured him that there was no one you’d rather be with, no one who could sway your attention. You loved using your hands and arms and lips and tongue to reassure him, finding that he had his own sensitive spots that you could manipulate. You loved sending him to sleep with a smile on his face.

But as much as you and Frankie enjoyed the relationship, the nature of his work with the transportation team meant that he was never in town for very long. At the same time, your job was getting more complex, requiring late nights at the office that interfered with your time together. You refused to dwell too much on the fact that you were torn, that you loved your work as equally as you wanted to spend those nights with Frankie.

By the end of the summer, you both came to the realization that it was nobody’s fault, simply a case of poor circumstances, and you decided to end things and remain friends. In October Frankie left Statesman to take a job that relocated him to Florida. You were wistful, and you missed him, but at least it had been an amicable split. At least friends was something. And as sometimes happens even with the best of intentions, the time in between each phone call grew longer, and you eventually lost touch. Last you heard he was spending weekends with his old Army buddies who all lived nearby, and he had a new girlfriend. By February the ache was starting to subside, and by April you were nearly ready to date again.

In May, almost three years to the day after Ginger’s visit to your apartment had changed your life, you were offered the position to lead the Data Analysis team in New York. You jumped at the chance. Statesman located an apartment for you, and from the pictures you were already in love with it. Huge windows looked out over the city, and it was within walking distance of Statesman HQ. Your farewell party was bittersweet. Ginger offered to come visit you, and promised that New York would be everything you hoped it would be. Your team gave you such high praises that you joked that if that’s what it took to hear accolades, you would have left ages ago.

---

Your first few days in New York were spent acclimating to the Statesman HQ, and getting to know your neighborhood. It was strange to find that you could walk or take the subway for whatever you needed, compared to the Midwest where a car was required for everything. Your new team was welcoming, and you enjoyed your new duties immensely. Your first two weeks on the job passed in no time, and you went home every night feeling like you could fly.

And then you hit a wall, in the form of Jack Daniels, a.k.a. “Senior Agent Whiskey.” You knew him by reputation, of course. Ginger had filled you in on his exploits, his overbearing charm, his smarmy flirtations. You had seen him once or twice in passing when he had visited Champ’s office, but you hadn’t actually met him in person.

When you finally did, you almost asked for an immediate transfer back to Louisville. --- "Paloma" Series Masterlist Just-here-for-the-moment’s masterlist

Tag list: @honeymandos @driedgreentomatoes @silverwolf319 @mourningbirds1 @honestly-shite @anaaaispunk @greeneyedblondie44 @spacedilf @maxwell–lord @nicolethered @dihra-vesa @the-queen-of-fools @juletheghoul @anxiousandboujee

[fandomscombine]

Exploding Stink Bomb

Platonic!Weasley Twins x Reader

BG: Chaos ensues when the twins steal your latest prank invention. How much worse could it be when innocent people are caught in the mess?

WC:1744

Entry for @feetoffthetable​ 's 500 writing challenge. A week late I know-sorry! Cause I lost the initial draft. (Note: Do NOT trust auto save that much) So I had to rewrite it.

The prompts are taken from Random Prompts List No. 4 and No.11. (Are in bold in the text)

4. “…Are they dead?” “I don’t know! Why don’t you ask them!”

11. “You’re being remarkably calm about this.” “Thanks, it’s the shock. Give me fifteen minutes, the screaming will happen.”

>>>MASTERLIST<<<

Fred Weasley, George Weasley and Y/n L/n, also known as 'The Pranksters Trio' of modern day Hogwarts.

It is the winter of senior year, and your stress levels are increasing by the day. NEWTS are to be held in a couple of months and you have managed to procrastinate completing your mock papers. At this rate, you would get a passing grade but in all honesty you know that wouldn’t cut it, you know your abilities. If you actually put effort in your subjects you can bump a level up.

You've made a deal with your parents that if you had completed your practice papers, you could spend the last week of the Christmas holiday with the Weasleys.

Which you are; 3 days in, 4 days left till school.

'What your parents don't know won't hurt them...' You mumble to yourself as you stir the bubbling green mixture clockwise.

See you haven't finished the potions assignment yet. Your parents thought you did last week, but in reality what you were working on was a little fantastic smelling concoction that could contribute to the twins' upcoming new joke shop merchandise lineup!

During the journey to King’s Cross, Fred had come up to you and asked if you could help brainstorm a new product that would blow people's minds away. Of course you agreed, a multitude of ideas already brewing, you would do anything to help out your friends.

That night, it was all you could think about. Naturally you are itching to get started, before the thought flies away. Pushing your potions textbook aside, you got to work. It took 18 hours of no sleep but it paid off. The product was now in your hands.

A shiny burgundy shimmering marble-like sphere. The final product was smaller than the blueprint- the amount of ingredients you had on hand in your muggle household were limited- you do a mental note on raiding the potions supply closet once back in school for dragon hide.

But when you do finally have all the resources, the sphere should be the size of a baseball.

For now, at 30% of the ideal size, this mini test sphere could stink up a small bedroom. Which is enough to do damage but also has a small enough impact that you fix if anything were to go wrong.

BAM! You knew the quiet was too good to last.

“y/n/n, my dear!” Greeted Fred, waltzing into Ginny’s room.

“Are you--” George placed his hand on the door, stopping it from slamming back to his face. “Oi! Why’d you have to kick the door so hard? You could have ruined my handsome face!” He shouted to his twin.

Dropping your quill back into the ink bottle you sighed. “Nooo, how many times do I have to tell you? I’ll be finished when I’m finished. Most likely tomorrow, the earliest.”

“Why can’t you just let US test it though?” voiced George.

“Because I came up with it and it’s the only one we’ve got!” You reasoned. “I wanna see it when it explodes!”

Right then, the boys’ eyes lit up.

“IT EXPLODES?!?!?” They exclaimed in union.

“SHIT!” It was too late to cover it up. The secret is out.

The twins shared a look, you don’t really believe in twin telepathy but in the case of your 2 best friends and mischief, they almost always are on the same page.

You are sent flying sideways off your chair and hit the air mattress. “Offph! George! Let….me….go!” With all your might, you try to push George off you but to no avail. The muscles built up during quidditch training are to his advantage.

In the other side of the room, Fred is rummaging through your trunk, eagerly looking for the mysterious and highly sought after invention.

Although he may not know what it looks like, Fred is still one of your accomplices in sneaking prank items to school, meaning he and Geroge know all the secret compartments in your trunk. As do you with their trunks.

This setup made sense, it was a precautionary method devised so that in a matter of incoming danger or when suspected of something, the others could easily get rid of any incriminating evidence.

The system is perfect! Well expect now when it backfired on you.

“AHA GOT IT!”

Your face snaps to the direction of the voice. Cursing internally, right there, raised high above Fred’s head is the prized Exploding Stink Bomb.

“WICKED!” cried George. While the twins are reveling in their success, you took the chance to push George off you and launch towards Fred.

While George was caught off guard, Fred had the few seconds in which you got up to process what was happening and sprinted towards the door.

“IMMA GET YOU FRED!”

“LET’S SEE THAT SMALL LEGS!”

“GOT YA! AHHHHH--” One moment you had your hand on Fred’s shoulder, next you felt a tug on your waist. “GEORGE LET. ME. GO”

“No can do y/n/n.”

His hold wasn’t enough to hurt you, but it was certainly tighter. “Learned from your earlier mistake eh” You teased.

“Just caught me off guard” George reasoned.

Fred walking backwards, bids his farewell. “See you Suckers!” He shouted, taking a bow. With that he disappears round the corner.

A THUD.

“Ginny!”

You and George shared a look of confusion, what was going on?

Arriving at the scene, you are not surprised to see a sneering Ginny.

“That’s what you get for going in my room!”

What you’re more surprised to see is a frantic Fred. You knew that Ginny is fully capable of being terrifying but this was all in good fun right?

Slowly George walked up to his brother. “Freddie what’s wrong?”

“The ball… it slipped”

Eyes wide, your heart starts to beat faster. “Where…?”

You barely had gotten the question out, the answer is given.

As if on cue, you hear shouts coming from your right, Ron’s room.

Ginny being the closest, beats all of you to the door. When it opened, you catch the faint bit of purple smoke before it completely clears away, no other evidence of the stink ball in sight-you smile at the result, hard work does pay off.

‘Now is not a time to be happy y/n’ you told yourself. Your gaze reached the unconscious bodies on the two beds. “Well that’s…..uhh... new...”

Here are 4 guilty looking teenagers looking at the scene of the crime.

Ginny gingerly poked Ron’s side, keeping a fair distance away just in case he jolts back. “…Are they dead?” she asked, breaking the silence.

“I don’t know! Why don’t you ask them!” George paused his pacing to point his finger at both you and Fred.

“Hey! I am not the one you had thrown the stink bomb into the room!” You said defensively. “Besides I told you to test it when I’m ready! BUT NOOOO… you two wanted it now WITHOUT EVEN KNOWING IT’S FULL CAPACITY AND RESTRICTIONS!”

“I…..I…” When George couldn’t come up with a come back, he changed tactics. Turning to Fred he challenges. “You’re being remarkably calm about this.”

Fred, who was still standing rooted at the entryway, replied. “Thanks, it’s the shock. Give me fifteen minutes, the screaming will happen.”

“What the heck happened anyway?” asked Ginny.

“Yea, I thought it was just a stink bomb that could explode!” added George.

“It is just an exploding stink bomb!”

“Then why are they unconscious?” George’s panic becomes more evident as in addition to his pacing, his voice is now an octave higher.

“I think that the stink bomb was too powerful for such a small room.” Sighing, you gestured to the closed windows. “There’s no adequate ventilation too. Must have cause them to inhale a larger concentration”

“How long will they be out?”

“I don’t know Ginny…really.” You shrug. “It could be hours, one to two at best.”

“TWO HOURS?!?” The twins say in union despite one clearly in utter distress while the other scarily unmoving.

Fred gripped his hair, placed his head in between his thighs and let out a scream that could rival a lion.

George now having lost hope of his brother functioning, took charge. “Mum is gonna be back any second now. What are we gonna do?”

“Well, first…we’re gonna check the boy’s condition again for progress” You suggest, dragging Ginny to check on hair while you check on Ron.

“Then..we’re gonna say..”

“GOT YA!” You 4 shout, finger guns at the ready.

“Wait.. WHAT?!!?? WHAT’S HAPPENING?” George looks at Harry and Ron- who are surprisingly alright and laughing their heads off, to you and GInny looking very smug.

Fred tilts his red face up to the commotion.

“YOU JUST GOT PRANKED! SAY CHESSE!” You announced, indicating to Ginny with the camera.

“Cheeseee” murmured the twins in defeat.

~

“How’d you do it?”

You knew that they would be back with questions. You keep them on the edge as you finish up your potions essay.

"You lot are predictable."

"Predictable?" George scoffed.

Tidying up the study table you continue "Mhhhmmm hmmm. Predicted that you would test it out on Ron, knew that you would try to steal it from me cause you both are very impatient- especially you Fred."

"Heyy!"

"But how did you wake up Harry and Ron?" Piped George. "We shook them but they were still unconscious!"

"Ah George ever the curious. It's simple really." You lay on the bed with hands behind your head, enjoying this moment of outsmarted the boys. "Your siblings were all very tired of been pranked so when we saw an opportunity to have you taste of your own medicine we grab them chance."

You glance at them.

"The time of you setting off the stink bomb is unknown but we were ready. I've made a nose blocker chewing gum while I was tinkering with the foul smell of the stink bomb."

"No sense of smell, no effect." stated Fred.

"Exactly, the rest I'd just improv and acting! The boys weren't actually unconscious, just a temporary numbing spell which Ginny and I reversed when we checked on them."

Sitting back up, you continued.

"What I didn't predict was how crazy you with react. I've never seen you two gone off the rails scared shirtless like that before." You admitted. "Priceless."

"And now you have a photo of it" grumbled George.

"And video too!"

"WHAT?"

Taglist [All/General]: @gruffle1

HP Taglist: @onlyfreds

[harrysweasleys]

Another Woman For My Man

Synopsis: Reader, who is dating Fred comes from a rich background and her family isn’t thrilled about her dating Fred. During her fourth year, the Triwizard Tournament and all, Fred catches the eye of a Beauxbatons lady, who is determined to split the two of you up. 

Warnings: language 

Word Count: 7.6k

A/N: this was much longer than i expected but i’m kind of proud of it! Enjoy! Gif is from google.

Another year at Hogwarts meant another series of unexplainable, adventurous events. This year was bound to be no different.

You had spent the summer away with your family in Paris, meeting important Wizarding families and getting acquainted with people who you never wished to see again. For nearly two months you dealt with snobby purebloods, until you were finally back in London and preparing to head off to Hogwarts. The spent the last week of summer staying at the Burrow with the Weasley family — much to your parents’ disapproval, but if anything, it had been the best week of the holiday. 

You could feel yourself relaxing and going back to normal as you sat at the Gryffindor table, still slightly groggy after napping on the train on the way over, but the delicious feast made you feel more awake.

“Silence!” Dumbledore rose his hand over the Hall, silencing the chatty students and making you place your fork down, “Welcome to another year at Hogwarts. Before we get too distracted, we have an announcement — Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry has been selected to host the Triwizard Tournament!”

No way. 

You clapped your hands, a smile making its way on your face. You had heard of the Triwizard Tournament loads of times growing up, your parents were very fond of keeping up to date with everything going on in the wizarding world — to maintain their status, of course.

“Hogwarts is about to get crowded,” you turned over to Hermione, clasping your hands in front of your chest as you awaited the introductions.

Dumbledore gained the attention of the room once more, “Now, please join me in welcoming the lovely ladies of Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, and their headmistress, Madam Maxine!”

The massive doors swung open and a group of ladies dressed in flowing blue knee-length gowns walked in, dancing through the hall as if they were standing on a cloud. The jaws of every guy in the room practically dropped as the girls sighed, tiny birds flying out of the dresses and floating around the room.

“Wow,” Ron muttered, watching them continue down the aisle between the tables, his eyes wandering further down their backs to stare at their butts.

“Guys can’t keep their eyes off of them, can they?” Hermione scoffed, turning over to you.

You giggled, looking over to Fred, “Hey, Freddie, whatcha lookin’ at?.”

He peeled his eyes away from the girls and looked at you with a dopey grin, “You, of course.”

“Of course,” you smirked, turning back to the doors and awaiting the next school group.

“And now, our friends from the North, please greet the proud sons of Durmstrang, and their high master, Igor Karkaroff!”

A group of the manliest men you had ever seen walked in, tapping large wooden staffs on the stone ground, igniting sparks in an organized rhythm.

“That’s more like it,” Hermione whispered to you, eyes scanning over the group of tough men. You couldn’t lie, they weren’t ugly.

“Y/N, whatcha lookin’ at?” Fred poked your side, using your question from before to tease you.

“You, of course,” you winked at him, turning back to face the aisle. You could feel your eyes follow them throughout the Great Hall until Ron’s screech caught your attention

“Blimey it’s him! It’s Victor Krum!”

You looked up to notice the last man walking in, and indeed, the famous Seeker was walking through the hall with a stern expression on his face. You had seen him not weeks before during the Quidditch World Cup, where Ron had fanboyed over him the entire time.

You kept your eyes trained on Krum as he walked up to the front and moved to the side to let Karkaroff and Dumbledore greet one another like old friends, strange smiles on both their faces.

The atmosphere in the Hall was tense and unsure, but you could feel the excitement buzzing. Next to you, Fred and George were already planning how they’d get into the tournament and what they thought the tasks were going to be.

“You’re not seriously going to enter, are you?” You asked, turning your head to face him.

“Of course I am, why? You worried about me?” he pretended to gush, placing his hands over his heart.

“Yes. Because if you enter this tournament, you could die,” your eyes scanned him over, “and, well, you would die.”

He scoffed, wrapping his arm around your waist, “Where’s the fun in staying indoors and watching everyone else compete when I can be in it? How cool would it be for you to say you’re dating a Triwizard Champ, maybe your parents would like me then.”

You knew he was joking, but there was a hint of honesty behind his words. It was no secret your parents weren’t fond of you dating a Weasley. Your entire life, they had been using their status and wealth to try and find the best possible man for you, so when you eventually told them that you were indeed dating a pureblood, they were thrilled.

When you told them it was Fred Weasley, that thrill diminished rather quickly.

“His family is poor, Y/N!” Your mother repeated over and over, as if saying it would make you realize that you didn’t want him. You couldn’t care less about Fred’s family’s status. You had met most of his siblings at Hogwarts and they were some of the kindest, most thoughtful people you could ever meet. Your family was nothing like that — which is why you tried to hide your family life while at school. You knew rumours would fly and things would get blown out of proportion before you could even try to defend yourself.

“Your attention please!” Dumbledore raised his hand once more, “I would like to say a few words. Eternal glory. That’s what awaits the student who wins the Triwizard Tournament. But to that, that student must survive three extremely dangerous tasks.”

“Wicked,” Fred and George muttered beside you, their eyes wide and excitement written all over their faces. You rolled your eyes, chuckling at them before turning your attention back to Dumbledore.

“For this reason the ministry has seen fit to impose a new rule. To explain all this, we have the head of the Department of International Magic Cooperation — Mister Bartimus Crouch!”

Right as Crouch was about to step up and speak, a cracking bolt of lightning came down from the ceiling, thunder echoing around the hall and creating panic amongst the students. You felt Hermione grab your arm and duck down, pulling you with her as screams continued sounding throughout the mass of students. Harry and Ron looked around, eyes wide. 

You ducked your head down even further, dragging Fred down with you, who dragged George down. As you opened your eyes, you noticed a streak of light come from the corner of the room and make its way up, calming the ceiling down and returning it to normal.

You felt your breathing return as you squinted, looking over to the corner of the room to see who had done the spell.

“Bloody hell, it’s Madeye Moody,” Ron spoke, awestruck as he stared at the man himself. You felt your eyes drag over him as well, looking at the fake eye scanning the room and the ragged coat that was dripping over the stone floors.

“Alastor Moody? The Auror?” Hermione was still clutching the table, not letting the new-found calmness reach her just yet.

“He’s mad,” Fred whispered, leaning close to you, “Heard he’s responsible for nearly a dozen filled cells in Azkaban.”

You had heard of Moody before, but had no idea what he was doing in Hogwarts. It’s not like there were any dangerous criminals lurking about that needed to be caught. You watched as he walked over to greet Dumbledore, the two sharing a quick talk before Moody limped away, looking over the mass of students.

Eventually, Crouch waddled over to face the student body, “After much deliberation, the Ministry has concluded that for their own safety, no student under the age of seventeen shall be allowed to put forth their name for the Triwizard Tournament.”

The hall went up in uproar, young students complaining loudly about how they’ve had their ‘rights’ taken away from them. You giggled as Fred and George cussed him out, arguing louder than the entire Gryffindor table combined. 

“That’s rubbish! You don’t know what you’re doing!”

Dumbledore raised his hands, silencing the crowd once more, as he continued to explain what was going to happen throughout the year. He revealed the Goblet of Fire, telling students that this is where they had to submit their names if they wanted to enter.

“Sorry, Freddie,” you placed a kiss on his cheek, “Guess you’ll have to watch from the stands with me.”

He sighed dramatically, a faint smile on his face, “Fine. I guess that’s what I have to do then.”

The rest of the dinner wasn’t overly exciting. You could hear some of the older students around you chat excitedly about placing their names in, hoping they’d get picked and experience some of that ‘eternal glory’ Dumbledore had mentioned.

You made your way out of the Great Hall with your arm linked in Fred’s, the two of you laughing at one of his puns as you passed by a group of girls from Beauxbatons, leaning agains the entrance and giggling to themselves. You didn’t pay mind to them, but when one of the girls raked her eyes over Fred’s body with keen interest, you felt a pang of jealousy hit you straight in the heart.

You brushed it off, looking back up to your boyfriend who continued talking as if he were completely oblivious, and made your way back to the Common Room.

-

The next evening, you found yourself in the Great Hall once more, watching intently with Hermione as students piled in to place their name in the Goblet. The two of you would share comments every now and then, giggling to yourselves at the people who didn’t think Dumbledore’s age line would work.

And of course, amongst those non-believers were Fred and George. 

The two burst into the room making quite a scene, cheering themselves on as they rushed over to you. The stood up onto the benches behind you, holding up to tiny vitals.

You had a feeling Fred would try to smuggle his way into the tournament, but you didn’t think he’d go this far. 

“Bloody idiots,” you mumbled to Hermione, causing her to chuckle.

“Cooked it up just this mornin’!” Fred smirked, holding up the tiny bottle for everyone to see. From behind you, you heard a chorus of unfamiliar female giggles. You turned your attention to them, meeting the eyes of the same girl you had seen eyeing Fred yesterday. A blush was evident on her cheeks as she continued looking him over.

“It’s not going to work,” Hermione spoke up, not looking away from where she was facing. You felt the twins kneeling next to you, Fred placing a kiss to your cheek before turning to face her.

“Oh, yeah? And why’s that, Granger?”

You felt yourself leaning back into Fred’s touch as Hermione boasted about Dumbledore’s age line. 

“That’s why it’s so brilliant, because it’s so pathetically dim-witted.”

“Come on, Fred,” you looked over to him with a pleading smile, “I really don’t want you getting hurt.”

He placed a kiss to your temple, “Not gonna happen.” He stood up with George, the two of them downing their little aging Potion before hopping into the circle. 

The twins boasted, waving their hands to get the audience around them cheering. You fought the smile on your lips as you looked at Fred, who looked genuinely happy. Your smile faded slightly as you looked to your left, watching the Beauxbatons girl glaring daggers at you, her arms crossed across her chest.

“Hey, why’s that girl looking at you like that?” Hermione whispered casually, trying not to make it seem like you two were talking about her.

You shrugged your shoulders, “Dunno, but she’s been eyeing Fred for a while too.”

Hermione’s eyes widened in realization, “So she fancies him. Careful, don’t want you waking up with no hair or anything. Jealousy makes people act irrationally, you know.”You nodded, brushing off the girl who was still looking in your direction. Fred and George were placing their names in the Goblet — which ended up shooting them back thirty feet. You placed a hand over your mouth, a chuckle escaping your lips as you watched long, white beards grow from the twins’ faces, aging them nearly fifty years.The room burst into a chant — “fight, fight, fight!” —  as the twins fought each other, blaming the other for their misfortune.

“It’s like I’m dating Dumbledore,” you turned to Hermione, who giggled at your comment. You continued watching the two fight, not even noticing the other figure walking into the room. 

Victor Krum walked over to the Goblet, silencing the room and placing his name in before turning away, sneaking a quick glance at Hermione in the process. You turned to face her with a knowing smirk, watching as her gaze followed him all the way out of the room.

“You got a bit of drool on your chin there, Granger,” you poked her side, holding back a laugh as her cheeks turned pink. She ducked her head down, using her hair to hide her cheeks as you turned back to face Fred, who was now deep in conversation with his Beauxbatons admirer.

You felt your heart sink as you looked at them, her hand placed on his forearm and his laugh that was echoing through the hall. Your face dropped, and Hermione noticed immediately.

“Go over there, make sure she knows he’s yours,” she nudged you. You nodded, determined. You weren’t sure why the jealousy was striking you so hard, but you weren’t going to let some French chick steal your prankster.

You walked up to them, wrapping your arm around Fred’s waist. He seemed slightly confused at your open affection, but he leaned into your touch, smiling down at you.

“Hey, Y/N, this is Claudette,” he waved his hand in her direction, “From Beauxbatons, she knows Charlie. Her brother works with him.”

“That’s nice,” you put on a fake smile as you turned to face her. She didn’t look at you, her eyes still locked on Fred. 

You looked over at Hermione, who was waving her hands, telling you to ‘claim your man.’

“Freddie, did you still want to go to Hogsmeade?” you asked, sliding your hand down his arms to interlace your fingers with his, his warm hand soothing you immediately. 

He gave it a squeeze, “Oh, sorry, I was just talking to Claudette and she’s going to help George and I prank Moody.”

What? That happened fast.

Your face dropped, and you could almost feel the evil grin on Claudette’s face taunting you. You pulled your hand out of Fred’s and nodded sadly.

“Oh, that’s fine.”

“Another time, yeah?” he flashed you his gorgeous grin, and although you were upset, you smiled back at him. He turned back to his conversation, leaving you walking back to Hermione with your feet dragging along the floor.

“What happened?” she pestered you, eyes lingering behind you at your boyfriend still talking to the blonde, her eyes sparkling as if she were under a love potion. 

“Well,” you sighed, sitting down, “Fred cancelled our Hogsmeade date to hang out with George and Claudette.” You couldn’t help the spite in your voice, your blood boiling as you looked back over to the two. Fred looked thrilled, his eyes wide as he took in the words she was saying.

“Boys,” Hermione mumbled under her breath, “Fine, Y/N, you and I will go to Hogsmeade. Its been a while since we’ve had girl time. We’ll take your mind off of your oblivious boyfriend.”

-

And so you did. The two of you walked around Hogsmeade all day, grabbing sweets and sharing a butterbeer at The Three Broomsticks, reminiscing about your four years at Hogwarts. You guys even touched briefly upon the topic of Hermione’s crush on Ron, but she insisted you were imagining things and that she only saw Ron as a friend. 

As dusk slowly started falling, the two of you walked back to the castle, arms linked. You made your way up to the common room, greeting Neville and Cho, before you made your way to the last staircase, waiting for it to slowly position itself in front of the entrance portal.

As the portal came into view, your smile was wiped off your face in an instant. Standing by the entrance, not two feet apart from each other, were Fred and Claudette.

She was tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear, a pink blush on her cheeks as Fred cracked a joke. He was leaned agains the wall, his arms crossed. He looked comfortable, relaxed, and you hated it. He only ever looked his way around you.

You ignored what Hermione was saying to you, your eyes glued to the pair of them who looked too damn close to being a couple. You walked up to them, a slight stomp in your step.

“Hey, Y/N,” Fred smiled at you, but it didn’t reach his eyes like it usually did, “How was Hogsmeade?”

“Fine,” you replied, not smiling back. You could feel your heart beating aggressively against your ribcage and you knew you’d say something you didn’t mean. So, before you could do so, you turned around and walked into the common room, leaving the two of them standing in the hall.

“You’re going to leave them alone?” Hermione jumped up from the couch, walking straight over to you, “No! Y/N, go out there and show them who’s boss. Or… something. I don’t really know what the expression is.”

“No,” you sulked down on the couch, not even noticing George was beside you, “If he wants to be an idiot, he can be an idiot.”

“He’s being an idiot, alright,” George spoke quietly, startling you. You looked over at him, noticing he was reading a book — ‘Five Hundred Excuses To Get Out Of Class’ — but his eyes seemed distracted, as if he wasn't actually processing the words.

“George, you frightened me,” you leaned back against the couch, “But, yes, he’s being a fool.”

“All day that chatty French woman was talking about you and how you’re — what did she call it — entitled. Because of your family and all,” he shut his book, locking eyes with you. You could feel he was upset as well, and you knew he probably wasn’t telling you everything about what happened between the pair of them today.

“What did Fred say back to her?” you wanted to hear that he stood up for you, that he ‘defended your honour’ and told her about what you were really like, but if their conversation in the hallway before was any sign, you doubt he had done any of that.

“Nothing,” George sighed, “I stepped up for you, you know, you’ve been nothing but nice to me and my family, despite how you view yourself, and so I told her that you were nothing like what people said you were. But she kept saying it and Fred never piped up.”

“He never said anything?” Hermione questioned from your other side, “Sorry, George, but he’s even dafter than I believed he was five minutes ago.”

You sunk back into the couch, the pain in your chest growing more and more by the second. Why hadn’t he stood up for you? He had only known her for like, maybe four or five hours, did your importance to him drop in that short of a time span? They had gotten disgustingly well acquainted, and you were not liking it.

You suddenly felt like you didn’t want to be talking to anyone.

Abruptly, you pushed yourself off the couch and walked upstairs to your room, Hermione not following you as if she could sense you wanted space. 

You tucked yourself into bed, and for the first time since you and Fred started dating a year ago, you hadn't wished him goodnight or shared a ‘sweet dreams’ kiss. 

-

The next evening, the Great Hall had been packed with students from every school, eagerly awaiting the name picking for the Tournament. You had managed to avoid seeing Fred all day, but with the whole school in the same room, you didn’t really have a choice.

You sat next to a corner window with Harry, Ron and Hermione, hoping you could go through the next half hour without drama, but as Fred and George installed themselves in front of you, you figured that might not happen.

“I didn’t see you last night,” Fred turned around with a distant expression on his face, “Or today, for that matter.”

You shrugged, looking for Dumbledore and hoping he’d start speaking soon, “Sorry.”

Fred noticed you were off, but he didn’t push you like he usually did. A part of you wanted him to, just to show he cared, but at the same time, the last place you wanted to confront him was in front of a couple hundred students. 

“Sit down, please!” Dumbledore finally said, “And now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for, the champion selection!”

The hall burst into applause, but you couldn’t find the excitement in you to clap along with them. 

Dumbledore raised his hand over the blue flame, turning it red. As you looked at it, you could see a small hand waving from behind it. 

Claudette.

You looked down, noticing Fred’s face crack into a smile as he waved back at her. 

That bitch is stealing my man.

“The Durmstrang champion is… Victor Krum!” Dumbledore announced. You hadn’t even seen him pick up the tiny slip of paper, your jaw clenched and jealousy flooding through your veins. 

The group of Durmstrang boys cheered, patting Krum on the back as he walked towards Dumbledore, who shook his hand and led him to stand in the champions corner.

“Hope he doesn’t die,” Ron muttered, “I haven’t gotten his autograph.”

The flame turned red once more, and another tiny slip of paper came flying out.

“The Beauxbatons champion is… Fleur Delacour!” 

The group of girls cheered, and a slim blonde woman made her way to the front, a proud smile on her face as she thanked Dumbledore and joined Krum.

“The Hogwarts champion… Cedric Diggoy!”

The hall burst into applause. You knew Cedric, you had met at the Quidditch World Cup and the two of you bonded over your similar interest in astronomy. You weren't even aware he put his name in — maybe you had missed it while you were glaring at Fred and his new friend. 

“I wasn’t aware Cedric entered,” you turned to Hermione, watching as Cedric made his way to stand with the other two champions. She shrugged, looking back over to Dumbledore.

“And now we have it! Our three champions!” Dumbledore pointed to the three of them, and then to the Triwizard Cup, but your attention was brought back to the Goblet, which was flaming red once more.

Another tiny slip of paper flew out, being caught by Dumbledore who seemed to read it three times, making sure he had seen it properly.

“Harry Potter…” he muttered, and your face dropped, turning to face Harry. He sat down, hoping to be out of sight. Hermione eventually dragged him up by the shoulder and shoved him forwards, his steps slowly bringing him to the front.

“He didn’t even put his name in,” you whispered, panic in your voice as he stood next to the three others. You could see him looking in the direction that you guys were sitting, his face twice as pale as it usually is.

This wasn’t going to end well.

-

After the champions ceremony, Dumbledore had dragged the four of them downstairs, leaving you guys in the hall. You felt your worry diminishing, figuring that Dumbledore wouldn’t let Harry enter as he was underaged as well.

“I’m gonna go catch up with Clau, see you later,” Fred said, rushing off into the crowd of students.

“Hey, wait,” you called out, placing your hands on your hips. Fred turned around, waiting for you to say what you needed to say.

“We haven’t seen each other all day, let’s at least walk back to the common room together,” you sounded kind of desperate for his attention, but you knew deep down that you were. 

You could see his face drop, “Oh, Y/N, uh — well, her and I were going to hang out too.”

“I’m your girlfriend, Fred,” you replied, no hint of amusement in your voice.

He furrowed his eyebrows, “Yeah, and she’s my friend. You’re not the only person I’m allowed to hang around, you know? Just relax. I’ll see you in the common room later or something.”

Without another word, he took off into the crowd, his bright orange hair never really disappearing as he was taller than most people, but he felt further away from you than he ever had. You felt your heart sink further as he greeted her with his signature smile, placing his hand on her shoulder. 

“Is he being a git?” George walked up behind you, his eyes also following his brother’s every move. 

“Yep,” you mumbled, “George, what if he realizes he likes her more than he likes me? I mean, it took him months to work up the courage to ask me out, remember? And now, in less than twenty hour hours, he’s already clinging onto her like I don’t exist.”

George wrapped his arm around your shoulders, “He took months to ask you out because he was practically in love with you. I’m telling you, nothing’s going to happen between them.”

“Fine, fine, I trust you. And I trust him,” you smiled up at George, feeling a little bit better. He led you out of the hall and upstairs, into the common room. 

You noticed Hermione sitting on the couch anxiously, muttering to herself about Harry’s safety. You waved goodnight to George and sat next to her, hoping to take your mind off of Fred.

“You don’t really think Dumbledore will let him compete, do you?” you asked, looking over at her, “I mean, I know once you’re chosen, you’re chosen, but this is a new circumstance.”

“I don’t think Dumbledore has a choice,” Hermione’s voice cracked slightly, “The Goblet chose Harry. Somehow, his name made it in. Ron’s furious, he thinks Harry did this to himself.”

“What? Why would Harry do that?” you cocked an eyebrow, “Entering the tournament is like suicide if you’re unprepared.”

For another hour, you chatted with Hermione about the tournament and Harry. She started yawning at quarter to one, bidding you goodnight and taking off for bed. You stayed on the couch, watching the fire continue to crackle as you waited for Fred. 

The two of you needed to talk.

He eventually stumbled in, trying to be quiet but tripping over a pillow that somehow got placed in front of the entrance portrait. 

“Y/N, you’re still up,” he seemed nervous, his hands fidgeting in his pockets as he looked down at you.

“Yeah, I was waiting for you, you said we’d see each other in the common room, remember?” you crossed your arms, fairly aware of how angry your voice sounded.

“I didn’t think you’d actually wait up,” he replied, avoiding eye contact, “Oh, well. Sorry, I’m tired. I’m heading off to bed.”

“No, you’re not,” you snapped, standing up, “We need to talk.”

He sighed, turning around to face you, “Yeah, we do.”

Your breath caught in your throat as he turned to face you, his face riddled with guilt and regret. You knew what he was about to say.

“I think we need to break up.”

“I’m sorry, what?” your voice came out as a squeak, the wind being completely knocked out of you. 

He looked down at his feet, “Yeah, wouldn’t want to drag you around with my poor-ness and stuff, you know.”

“Wait, what?” you stood frozen. Poor-ness? Was he breaking up with you because of your family’s status?

“Oh, c’mon, Y/N,” his voice changed from sad to accusatory, waving his hands in the air, “We know you’re only with me because you feel bad, or because you couldn’t find anyone better — more suitable. Do yourself a favour and admit it.”

You were speechless. Your mouth was hung open, your eyes blinking like rapid fire as you processed what he was saying. 

Where the hell did this come from?

“I’m sorry, what?” you asked for the third time, still not understanding just what he was trying to say, “You think that’s why I’m with you?”

“I know that’s why you’re with me,” he seemed set, as if he had come to a conclusion and you couldn’t change his mind.

You couldn’t find proper words, “Fred — no, I — you know I love you.”

“That’s not how Claudette sees it.”

You held back a scream, wanting to curse him out into next year at the mention of her name. You bit your tongue, balling your hands into fists.

“Oh, yeah? And I assume Claudette knows me so goddamn well, huh?” you spat, glaring daggers at him. Your confusion had changed to anger real quick.

“Yeah, she does, actually,” he smirked, “Your father worked with hers, many years ago in the Ministry. She said your father would go around trying to find your a suitable guy, some rich family’s son, but your attitude always drew them away. It makes sense, why you chose me. We’re both stubborn. But not anymore, I’m not just going to be someone’s backup option.”

“Fred — you’re not a backup — you’ve always been the one for me,” you couldn’t speak, your throat closing in on itself as tears welled up in your eyes. Yes, your dad had tried to find you a rich man to marry eventually, but none of them worked out because you didn’t want them. You had never wanted anyone until you met Fred. He was it for you. 

Of course, you wished you could have said all of this out loud, but Fred’s accusation had rendered you speechless.

“Save yourself the effort, Y/N,” Fred grumbled, “We’re over.”

-

You had cried yourself to sleep that night, trying not to wake the rest of the girls in your room. You were utterly devastated. You wanted so badly to let Fred know that that wasn't the case at all, that you were completely head over heels for him in every possible way, but the shock of his words had hurt you so badly you couldn’t even find a single word to say.

You knew that Fred was stubborn as hell, it was one of the things you loved about him, but right now it was the one thing you were hating more than anything. Claudette had put some sort of twisted idea about you into his head and now, you were the villain. And you didn’t even get the chance to defend yourself.

You woke up the next morning with swollen eyes and blotchy cheeks, a not-so-light headache pilled on top of everything else. You skipped breakfast, wanting nothing more than to curl up under your bedsheets and slip away into the abyss, but Hermione stormed in with a worried expression on her face, preventing you from doing so.

“Care to explain where you’ve been?” she walked over to your bed, sitting down on the edge, “Oh, Y/N, what's wrong?” she looked over your face, taking in the features that showed you had spent the night crying.

You explained everything to her, and she listened without butting in, rubbing your back soothingly as you continued crying. 

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” she gave you a comforting hug, “I don’t really know what to say or how to help, but I am here for you if ever you need anything.”

“I know, thanks Hermione,” you smiled at her, “Guess we should get ready for class then, yeah?”

She gave you a concerned look, but smiled and nodded, walking over to her corner of the room and grabbing her books. You stood up slowly, changed into your Gyffindor robes, and picked up your books as well. You looked yourself over in the mirror, flinching at how distraught you actually looked, but figured you'd use your hair to hide your face from people who looked your way.

You walked into Transfiguration class, greeting Professor McGonagall, and sat down in your usual seat with Hermione next to you. You chose to avoid conversation for the entire class, not even speaking to Harry despite the fact that you were quite curious about what was happening with him and the Triwizard Tournament. 

McGonagall didn’t assign homework — thank the lords — and so the four of you made your way out of class without another word. You could feel the tension between Ron and Harry even after they walked their separate ways. You shared a look with Hermione, and you could tell she wanted to do everything in her power to fix their feud. 

-

The next month was brutal. You had been seeing Fred around more than you’d like. He was there for every meal, he was always chilling in the common room when you were hanging with Hermione and Harry, and he always seemed to be standing outside your class when you were walking out. 

You never spoke, you barely ever glanced at him. It would hurt too much to see that he was doing well, when you, on the other hand, couldn’t go to bed without shedding a few tears. Honestly, you couldn't even look at him without your heart hammering against your chest. 

The first task was coming around — something about dragons — so your mind was thankfully occupied trying to help Harry figure out how to get past it without burning alive. 

The night before the task, you were sitting in the common room with him after Hermione had gone to bed, the two of you looking over books on dragons, trying to find any possible way to get past one without being seen, or to put one to sleep.

You were so focused on what you were reading that you hadn’t even noticed the portrait opening, Fred entering the room. 

You looked up, your breath catching in your throat as you locked eyes with him. He had probably been out with Claudette. You bit your tongue, turning back to face the book in front of you.

“Y/N, I think I found something,” Harry caught your attention, giving you a kind smile. You looked over to what he was pointing at. A little note was sitting in the book, and in messy handwriting it read; ‘talk to me, don’t look at him.’

You smiled to yourself, thankful that Harry had distracted you from looking back over to your ex-boyfriend. Fred left the room slowly, leaving you alone with Harry once more. 

You let our a breath you didn’t know you were holding, turning to Harry, “Thanks, sorry about that.”

“Oh, no worries,” he smiled, “I didn’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

You looked back down to your book, once again scanning the pages for any mention of how to get past a dragon.

-

The first task was the most exhilarating thing you had ever experienced. Harry had barely gotten away from the dragon, capturing his egg only after leading the dragon to plummet thousands of feet, probably to its death. 

The Gryffindor common room was in uproar, everyone celebrating Harry’s survival and the fact that he had the next clue in his hand. 

“We knew you wouldn’t die, Harry!” George cheered, lifting Harry up on his shoulder along with Fred. You kept your eyes on the egg, not wanting to look down at the twin.

“Who wants me to open it?” Harry asked, looking around the room, “You want me to open it?” You cheered along with the rest of the group, finally feeling as if you could smile without faking it.

Harry opened the egg, and a blood-curtling scream made its way throughout the room. You ducked, covering your ears despite the fact that it made no difference. 

The sound suddenly stopped, and you looked over to Harry, a grimace on his face as he placed the egg down on a table, not wanting to touch it again.

“What the bloody hell was that?” Ron asked, entering the room. He walked over to Harry, and the two of them seemed to be having a civilized conversation. You smiled, giving Hermione a thumbs up now that the two looked like they were on good terms again.

“Hey,” a soft voice came from beside you. You recognized it immediately, your heart doing a summersault.

“Hi, Fred,” you turned to face him, not smiling. 

He rubbed the back of his neck, “I just wanted to say I’m okay with it.”

“With what?”

“You and Harry,” he stated as if it were obvious.

You scoffed, “You’re bloody insane. Just because you go off and find someone else at lightning speed doesn’t mean I do too.”

He flinched at your comment, “Uh, right. It’s just that I saw you two—”

“You saw me help him figure out how to survive a dragon, yes,” you cut him off, not wanting to hear his thoughts on you and Harry. You were disgusted enough that he thought you didn’t care about him, you didn’t want him thinking you had already moved on like he has, “Goodnight, Fred.”

You picked up your pride and walked over to the couch, sitting between Ron and Hermione, but not hopping into the conversation, your mind too focused on Fred.

-

“The Yule Ball has been a tradition of the Triwizard Tournament for centuries,” McGonagall announced as you all sat in a large room, facing the students on the other side. 

“As representatives of the host school I expect each and every one of you to put your best foot forward, and I mean this literally because the Yule Ball is first and foremost… a dance.”

You let out a small gasp, looking over to Hermione, “A dance? How exciting.” she chuckled at your lack of enthusiasm, her eyes briefly looking over at Ron. 

“Now, I want each and every one of you to stand up and find a partner, we will be practicing how to dance,” McGonagall commanded. You looked over at Hermione, the two of you slowly standing up and facing the boys across from you. 

Harry and Ron walked over, “Who goes with who?”

“Harry, dance with me,” you smiled kindly at him, ignoring Hermione glaring into the back of your head at your set up for her and Ron. 

“Now, men, place your hands on the woman’s waist,” Harry did as instructed, and you placed your arms around his neck as you were told so next. 

“My waist, Ronald,” Hermione whispered through gritted teeth. 

You and Harry moved in sync, following the instructions you were given about the choreography and routine, twirling around in your flimsy Hogwarts robe and trying not to step on his feet. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Fred and Claudette.

You had no idea when she got here, but you tried not to focus on the fact that Fred had his eyes on you, not her. He was looking at you across the entire room, and his eyes eventually wandered down to see Harry’s hands placed firmly on your waist. You noticed his jaw clench, but you knew he didn’t care enough to be jealous. 

“Get closer to me,” Harry whispered in your ear. 

“What?”

He nudged his head in Fred’s direction, “He’s watching. Get closer to me.”

You did as you were told, bringing your body up against Harry’s as he continued leading the dance. 

You couldn’t help yourself from sneaking glances at Fred every now and then, and every time you did, his eyes were still on you. You brushed it off, thinking he was probably just trying to figure out if the two of you were actually together.

“Now, that’s it for today. Remember, as it is a ball, you are allowed to ask someone to go with you! It’s tradition!” McGonagall clapped her hands, dismissing you all. 

You left the room with Ron and Hermione (who argued about who stepped on who more) while Harry left to go talk to Moody. 

“Y/N, can I talk to you?” you heard footsteps running up behind you, Fred’s voice making you stop in your tracks.

“About?” you asked, crossing your arms.

“Um — can we talk privately, please?” he motioned to Ron and Hermione, who nodded and walked away. 

“What is it?”

You knew you were being short with him, but you had reason. He crushed your heart with a weak explanation while continuing to ‘be-friend’ the woman who dragged him away from you in the first place. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, looking down at you, “I threw this — us — away. I was such an idiot. Like, a bigger one than usual.”

“Wait, you’re sorry?” you scoffed, uncrossing your arms and letting them hang at your sides, “You left me because some girl came in and threw ideas into your head, you didn’t even let me say my side of this, and now all you have to say is I’m sorry?”

His cheeks flushed, “I know, it’s lame. But I really did screw up. I don’t know what I was thinking. I don't even think I was thinking. She just started saying things about how you’re only dating me because I’m easy and I guess my insecurities just got the best of me.”

You shook your head, looking down at your feet, “You ignored me for a girl who was very clearly trying to get your affection, and then you break up with me because of her as well. You’re going to have to do way better than I’m sorry, Weasley.”

With that, you turned around on your heel and walked away. While you were proud of yourself for standing up to him, a part of you just wanted to run into his arms and forgive him. You knew you shouldn’t, but you loved that boy so much, it was hard to turn away from him.

-

“You look incredible,” Hermione clapped her hands as she finished doing up your hair. The Yule Ball had finally arrived, and you were genuinely looking forward to it. 

Harry had asked you to go with him, as friends, since he needed a date — being a  Triwizard Champion and all. George had informed you that Fred didn’t ask anyone, thrilling you more than you cared to admit. You had expressed over and over how badly you wanted to go with Fred, but the two of you didn’t seem like you were getting together any time soon.

So, now, you stood in your room with Hermione, the two of you dressed in the fanciest clothing you had ever worn while at Hogwarts, and you were really ready to have a good time tonight. 

You started making your way down the stairs, but as you noticed Fred standing at the bottom with flowers in his hand, you couldn't move.

“Y/N — wow — you look stunning,” he stuttered, fidgeting with the flowers in his hand. Hermione smirked at you and left the room. You had a feeling she had something to do with this.

“Oh, uh, thanks,” you blushed, tucking a loose curl behind your ear.

“Listen,” Fred let out a deep breath, “I have been the biggest idiot in the entire universe. I know I’ve said it before, but it hasn’t stopped being true. I don't know what came over me that night. I know it’s been over a month, but you’re still on my mind every second of the day. I really am in love with you, Y/N, I don't want anyone else.”

Your heart swelled, and you walked towards him slowly, “Fred, I want to forgive you, believe me.”

“Then please do,” he begged, “I know that none of what I said is true. You never made me feel like a backup. You always made me feel loved, cared for, appreciated, and I really, really want to make you feel the same.”

Your hands were shaking as you took the flowers from his hand, “You really were an idiot.”

“Yeah, I was,” he smiled, letting out a sigh, “Go to the ball with me. Please. I don’t want anyone else with me. Tonight or any other night.”

“I promised Harry,” you mumbled, thinking back to Harry, who was probably waiting for you outside the great hall, “He has the first dance as Champion.” Fred’s face dropped, but he nodded slowly, understanding.

“You can have me for the rest of the night though, if you want,” you smiled up at him, and his face broke out into the biggest smile you had ever seen. He wrapped his arms around you, lifting you up and twirling you through the air.

“I love you,” he placed a kiss on your cheek before the two of you made your way down to the ball.

And you had kept your promise, dancing with Fred until Snape kicked the two of you out, the smile never leaving your face.

[juliandev0rak]

Main 6 reacting to MC crashing their own funeral? Like, MC was alone in the woods and encountered a magical plant that temporarily stopped their heart for a couple days and so they passed out. When their LI finds them, they think they are dead and obviously hold a funeral service. But in the middle of it, MC wakes up in their coffin and starts knocking from the inside until someone opens it to find MC alive and well.

spooky and angsty? sign me up! ⚰️

I also used ideas from @hellodarknessmyoldfwen who had a similar request idea 💗

MC has really been through it… dying once is enough but TWICE?

warnings: mentions of death, grieving, being buried alive (not detailed, only briefly mentioned but i wanted to include a warning in case)

(also extra points to anyone who catches my What We Do In The Shadows reference)

Asra

he’s so upset when he finds you in the forest with no pulse and no sign of life, he collapses next to you and tries every spell he can think of to wake you up again

he can’t believe he’s lost you a second time and he blames himself for not saving you again

he has to be carried away from your side hours later when Muriel eventually finds him, he doesn’t want to leave you alone even though by now he’s tried every spell he can think of and it’s no use

he spends the days before your funeral in the palace library looking for anything he might’ve missed, he brought you back once and he’ll do anything to bring you back again- even if it means sacrificing himself

at first he doesn’t want to go to your funeral, it’s too painful, but he doesn’t want to regret missing it so he goes and Muriel stands with him for support

he feels like he needs to say something to honor you and all that you mean to him. but when he steps up to the front of the small crowd he’s interrupted by a loud knocking noise

his eyes fly to the coffin as he hears another noise and then he feels your aura, terrified and bright, and suddenly he’s clawing at the wooden lid 

someone comes to help him open it and there you are, sitting up and blinking into the brightness around you, incredibly confused

he shouts your name and nearly faints in surprise, not believing his eyes

after the initial surprise dies down you explain what happened, how you’d gone to find a rare herb for a spell and accidentally picked the wrong one

he’s worried that being dead, even for a few days, might’ve affected your memories again but luckily you seem just fine 

still- he isn’t letting you out of his sight, he’s watched you die twice and there’s no way he’s going to let it happen a third time

Julian

when he sees you lying in the forest his medical skills kick in and he’s immediately checking for a pulse and doing everything he can to get you breathing again

he doesn’t want to admit that you could really be gone

he blames himself for letting you die on his watch again and he goes into a deep spiral, spending all of his time between your death and funeral in the Rowdy Raven drowning his sorrows

the morning of your funeral Portia finds him passed out in his usual corner booth and drags him to Mazelinka’s to clean up, and hopefully sober up, before the funeral

when he sees your coffin he can’t help but burst into tears, hating himself for not finding you sooner or doing something more to bring you back

when he hears the first knocking sound he figures it must be his splitting headache but then he notices your other friends reacting to the sound as the knocking becomes more frequent

he watches with wide eyes as the lid to the coffin is lifted and you pop up, just as he had not long ago after his visit to the Hanged Man

”Oh, I’m way too drunk for this” is his first response, but then things shift into focus and he rushes to your side to check you over and make sure you’re really ok 

if you thought he was overprotective about your health before, he’s now extra careful and won’t leave your side for days until he’s certain the poison is out of your system

he has to hand it to you though, that was quite a dramatic reappearance and after he’s sure you’re safe both of you love to joke about crashing your own funerals

Nadia

she isn’t the one to find you and when the Chamberlain comes to tell her the news that your body’s been found at the edge of the palace gardens, she rushes to your side 

she immediately calls an investigation to determine the cause of death and brings Julian to examine you as well

when no cause of death is found she resigns herself to the fact that she’s lost you and begins to mourn

the funeral she plans for you is elaborate and half of Vesuvia is invited, there are speeches and a parade and she only just restrains herself from naming a holiday after you

halfway through one of the speeches there’s a commotion on the raised platform where your coffin is displayed and guards rush to the sound, only to realize it’s coming from inside your coffin

they look to Nadia in confusion and she steps onto the platform to press an ear to the coffin, when she hears a muffled noise she rears back in shock and immediately orders the guards to open the lid

as you sit up in the coffin, very much alive, Nadia realizes she’s never been more glad to be wrong about something

she calls the best doctors for you and insists on keeping you in bed for the next few days as she makes sure you’re really back to full health

she cancels every meeting and event to stay by your side until you’re feeling good as new and she asks you to please be more careful when picking wild plants, she has no idea what Lucio might have had planted during his time as Count 

Muriel

Inanna is the one who finds you and brings Muriel to where you’re laying, not too far from the hut and only a little ways into the wilder part of the forest

he fights back terror when he sees you lying there and can’t feel a pulse, his first thought is to run into town to get help

his second thought is to check what’s in your hand, a prickly looking green plant

he recognizes it immediately and heaves a sigh of relief, the adrenaline in his body causing him to fall to his knees next to you

he knows all of the plants that grow around here so he recognizes that you’ve accidentally eaten something poisonous, luckily for the both of you it’s only temporary

he carries you in to the hut and bundles your lifeless looking body up in the soft furs on his bed

he wishes he could get a message to Asra to see if he can help but he doesn’t want to leave your side

the effects of the poison could last for hours or days so he sits by the side of the bed holding your cold hand and hoping you’ll open your eyes again

by the second day he’s getting worried, from what he knows it should have worn off already but you could just be having a strong reaction to it

he takes to pacing around the hut, leaving only to get more firewood so he can keep your body warm, there isn’t much he can do but wait and hope

after four days he’s about to give up, maybe he’s identified the wrong plant and you really are dead, but just as he’s made up his mind to go find Asra you open your eyes and stare up at him with wide, confused eyes

he can’t restrain his excitement and relief as he pulls you into his arms and holds you close, making you promise to never eat anything you find in the woods without showing him first

Portia

when she finds you sprawled out under a big oak tree her first thought is that you’re napping but when she takes a step closer she notices you’re not breathing 

she immediately screams and draws the palace guards who help carry you inside while she runs to get Julian

despite his best efforts he simply can't find a pulse or get you to wake up so he pronounces you dead, sending Portia into a fit of hysterics

at your funeral a few days later she stands supported between Julian and Mazelinka, she’s trying to be strong for you but she can’t stop crying for long enough to say the eulogy she’s prepared

she gets ahold of her emotions eventually and launches into her memories of you, telling you how much everyone loves you and will miss you

the casket lid isn’t closed because Portia had insisted on one more look at you so it isn’t difficult for you to sit up, feeling quite well rested and very confused

as you take in your surroundings it occurs to you that you’re sitting in a coffin and that Portia is currently talking about you in the past tense, clearly there’s been a misunderstanding

”Portia” you call, trying to get out of the raised coffin, she doesn’t hear you so you call her name again and she spins around to face you

”Will you be QUIET? I’m trying to talk about MC!” She shouts, face red from tears and now anger as she tries to find the source of the rude interruption

her eyes widen as she takes you in and then she screams and runs towards you, nearly knocking you over

”You’re alive!” she says, hands reaching for your face as if to make sure you’re real. “I knew I shouldn’t have trusted Ilya, he doesn’t even have a medical license.” she grumbles, causing the man in question to object

after you’ve had a chance to explain what happened she says, ”Don’t you ever scare me like that again!” 

Lucio

he might not show it but he’s completely heartbroken that you’re no longer with him, he’s just too proud to cry in front of anyone (that’s reserved for behind closed doors)

he must admit, however, that he’s quite proud of the funeral he’s planned for you- it’s gaudy and extravagant and open to the public and he’s asked pretty much everyone you know to make a speech about you

he sits through all of the speeches without really paying attention, he’s thinking about the statute he wants to commission of you for the town square and how much he wishes you were here with him to get through these boring speeches (even if they are about you)

when it’s his turn to give a speech he starts to feel better, he loves an audience and he wants to make sure all of Vesuvia remembers you 

you wake up just as he takes the stage and are confused to find yourself surrounded by hundreds of white roses and laying in some sort of large gilded box, covered in what looks like precious jewels, you’ve woken up in some strange places before but this certainly takes the cake

you brush roses off of yourself and take stock of the situation, there's a lid on top of you but there are plenty of little holes which let in light and you can hear the sounds of a crowd around you

when you try the lid and it moves easily you reach up to push it off, reeling at the sunlight that floods into the space 

you take in the sight of Lucio on a stage set off to your left and the huge crowd in front of you, suddenly realizing that you’re currently attending your own funeral 

”MC was the bravest and most noble magician of all time, they were unparalleled in all of Vesuvia. NO- unparalleled in all the world!” Lucio is saying as you sit up and you hold back a laugh

”Was I?” you call over to him, swinging a leg over the edge of what you now realize is the world’s fanciest coffin, gilded even on the inside as if a dead person could appreciate the finery

”You were!” he answers, his signature smirk in place as he turns back to the crowd to continue his speech but the words die on his tongue and his head swings back to look at you in shock

”Well, I’m sorry to crash the party but it seems I’m no longer dead.” you explain, the crowd staring at you in as much awe as Lucio is

”See what I mean, people of Vesuvia? Unparalleled!” he grins as he rushes over to you and the crowd breaks into a cheer

once the chaos dies down you realize that Lucio still seems a bit upset and you realize that he’s upset that you stole the show, ”Are you really mad at me for coming back to life during my own funeral?” you ask

”My speech was going great and you ruined it! I was in the zone! Everyone was loving it.” He pouts and you shake your head in disbelief

”I loved it, I saw the end of it. It was a very lovely funeral, Lucio, I’m glad I had a chance to attend.” You smile

that seems to snap his brain back into place and he pulls you into his arms with a serious expression,  “I’m so glad you came back to me.”

[schnitzelbutterfingers]

The Stroke of Midnight (Ethan Ramsey x f!MC)

Book/Pairing(s): Open Heart/ Dr. Ethan Ramsey x f!MC (Dr. Abigail “Abby” Chacko)

Word Count: 2175

Summary: How would they get their New Year’s kiss if there are obstacles in their way?

Category: Angst with a happy ending

Warning(s): hospitalization (car accident, coma, fainting, depression, anxiety) kissing (ofc, it’s New Year’s Eve-)

______________________________________________________________

December 29th, 2020 (9:52 P.M.)

Abby loathed it. 

She loathed wearing those damn masks that made her suffocate. She loathed wearing at least three pieces of clothing, which got her all sweaty and sticky. Best of all, she loathed COVID-19. 

Damn every single human that doesn’t know how to social distance.

She got it. She knew how it felt to not spend time with her dear friends. She knew how it felt to not go to gorgeous beaches and get her tans. 

But this whole pandemic would be over if everyone followed the damn rules. People are acting as if they are seeing their families for the first time. Airplanes flying across the sky with every seat filled. Beaches filled with women in bikinis and men in shorts. Parties filled with people and alcohol. 

Abby is wholeheartedly done.

She recollected how Seb and Amma when they couldn’t come to Boston for the Christmas and New Year’s celebrations because of the fast-spreading virus. Even if she missed her family, she video-called them with Ethan, laughing and sharing joy with one another.

The moment of tranquility at that time inhabited her memories as more patients filled the ER, the moans and groans of pain settling in the overcrowded room. With a sigh, she got back to work, tending to them who may possibly have COVID. 

After placing one patient in the ventilator after she had trouble breathing, the junior resident went to the diagnostics room to take a break. It was depressing to call their families and tell them the heartbreaking words that their loved ones might not make it. And for a bonus point, during the holidays.

And it’s already depressing enough that Ethan hadn’t called her yet. He was supposed to here now; his shift was going to start in 5 minutes. Habitually, he got here early, either to finish paperwork or to start his rounds. The fact that he is not here know made her stomach feel wary.

She jolted at the beeping of her pager, signalling her to the ER room. I wasn’t even gone for five minutes.

Reluctantly, she went back down to the ER. She could see figures not far, and a bloodied man. Automatically, her thoughts went to calling his family about this accident. She hated heeding the cries coming out of their mouths, wishing she could do anything, anything, in her power to to save their loved one. But she prompted herself that she tried her full hardest.

Thrusting those thoughts aside, she rushed down to the patient. Suddenly, a pair of hands ceased her from taking another step forward. Naveen.

“Abby, don’t go down there,” Naveen said, worriedly. Huh?

Abby was confused and impatient. “What are you talking about? I’m a doctor. I can help him!”

Naveen replied in a hushed, soothing kind of tone. “There are other doctors there. They’ll tend to-”

Just then a paramedic came, someone the Chacko doesn’t know. “Patient is Ethan Ramsey, age-”

The world stopped. People annulled their motions. At least, that’s what she concluded. Her pulse, however, grew rapid. Her eyes widened. In horrible fear? In terrible anguish? In emotional pain? She doesn’t even know. 

“...Naveen? Please don’t tell me it’s who I think it is.”

“...I’m so sorry, Abigail. His car was hit by a truck and it rolled over a few times. He will be okay, I promise-”

But she’s not so certain. She wanted to slap herself. To cut herself, for ever thinking that. But even she took a look at Ethan. He’s covered in blood. She couldn’t even recognize him. 

“No...”

Then, she said it louder.

 NO! NO! ETHAN! ETHAAAN! Let me go. LET ME GO! NAVEEN, LET ME GO!!” Abby struggled, trying to release herself from Naveen’s grip. He was maintaining a vice-like grip on her, murmuring soothing words that he will be alright.

But she couldn’t make out anything. The world was spiraling, and so was she. 

“...Ethan...”

In one blink she fell onto the floor, her knees making an uncomfortable thud on the white tiles, and her vision went black.

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

December 30th, 2020 (10:06 A.M.)

The first thing she overheard was the beeping of a heart monitor. Next, she saw the IV going through her arm. She found out she was lying on an uncomfortable bed, sunlight streaming through the windows. Finally, she sees the Chief with an anxious face.

“Abigail! Ladoo, are you alright?” Naveen asked, concerned.

Only one word came out of her mouth. A name. “Ethan...”

She placed everything now. The bloodied body of Ethan Ramsey. Her true love. Unconscious. Unaware of any of her calls. She gasped out.

“Ethan! Naveen, where is Ethan? Where-”

Abby couldn’t breathe. She is suffocating. And she wasn’t even wearing one of those damn masks.

“Abby, deep breaths,” Naveen soothingly commanded.

She did as she was advised. Her breathing got normal, but her pulse didn’t.

“Naveen! Where is Ethan? Is he alright? Where-”

“Ladoo. Ethan is in the ICU, currently in a coma. He had a major surgery in his lung and chest. Thankfully, the surgeons stopped the blood loss. He had two broken ribs and a broken arm.”

Abby couldn’t get that first sentence out of her mind. “He’s... in a coma?”

The senior doctor sighed profoundly. “Yes, Abigail. We don’t know when he will wake up.”

We don’t know when he will wake up.

A tear spilled out of her eye, but she forced herself to swab it away. She will not break down. At least not now. Finally, she cared enough to question about herself.

“...What’s wrong with me?”

A sigh pulled out of Naveen’s mouth again. “You fainted after you had heard the news about Ethan. Your blood pressure increased. Fortunately, you’re fine now. I’ve informed Seb and Jazmin about this. They sensed you would be uncomfortable with talking about Ethan now, so they’ve decided to give you some space.”

She was appreciative. For having the best brother and mother. She treasured them. Too much. “I’ll shoot them a quick text message later. For now, I’m going to Ethan’s room. Where is he?”

“Abi-”

“Please. I want to see him.”

With a defeated sigh, Naveen and a nurse aided her onto a plastic wheelchair, much to her annoyance. She could walk fine, she’s not paralyzed or anything.

Abby was wheeled down the familiar hospital hall as nurses and doctors kept sparing pitiful glances. She didn’t need pity. She needed Ethan.

She walked into the room, preparing herself for what she was going to see. She wasn’t prepared at all.

Ethan was wearing a hospital gown and looked exhausted. His eyes were closed and he looked calm. Peaceful. Tranquility.

Some of her friends were already there. Bryce, Sienna, Jackie, Elijah, Rafael. They knew Abby would want to see her love. Some of them whispered comforting words. Others patted her on the shoulder. They all left her, and soon, she was alone with her fiance.

She started. “Hi, Ethan. It’s me, Rookie.”

She looked at the calendar. December 30. 

“Two more days till this horrible year is over. Life always throws us curveballs, don’t they?”

Silence.

She sighed. “Tomorrow is New Year’s Eve. Couples are supposed to kiss each other at the stroke of midnight. I need to feel your lips on mine at midnight. Please.”

The tears she tried to hold fell out like a dam breaking. She broke out in sobs.

“Please, Ethan. I... I can’t live without you in this damn world. If you die, I die, Ethan. I die. Please. I wanna feel you lips on mine at midnight. We planned so much for the future. Please. We’re engaged. We’ll be married next year. We’re hoping to build a family. With Jenner, as our third wheel. Please wake up, wake up, wake up. I love you too damn much.”

She whispered the last sentence. She tangled his hand in hers and held them tight. He may be in a coma now, but she’ll sing a song for him now. 

The sun comes up It's a new day dawning It's time to sing your song again

She takes a deep breath to keep her voice from cracking. Whatever may pass And whatever lies before me Let me be singing When the evening comes

Bless The Lord, O my soul O my soul Worship his holy name Sing like never before O my soul I'll worship your holy name

She sighed. He didn’t move, but something told her that he will move soon. 

“Rest now, my love. I’ll be waiting for that kiss when you wake up.”

He didn’t wake up that day.

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

December 31st, 2020 (11:40 P.M.)

Abby was with him yesterday and planned to stay in his room the whole night, until Naveen discharged her and gently forced her into an on-call room. It’s amusing how he thinks the 22 years old would get any sleep. She wanted to be in Ethan’s comforting arms. Him stroking her musky brunette hair. Her wrapping her narrow arms around his waist. Sleeping under the brilliant moonlight. But now, the coma threatened to take away that lifelong dream.

It was 11:40 P.M. on New Year’s Eve, and Abby was still waiting for that midnight kiss. He promised he would kiss her at 12:00 A.M. He didn’t have any problems in doing that. If so, he would have told Abby. He didn’t have to go into a coma to hamper it. Abby would still love him.

Abby was looking at the wall, staring at it blankly as she clasped his hand and gave it a squeeze, hoping for it to jerk. And minutes later, it did.

The first jerk got her out of her train of thoughts. The second jerk made her look at his bruised face, hopeful for a holiday miracle. The third jerk made him slowly open his eyes, his familiar hand gently stroking her thumb as to figure out who is next to him. 

She gently fastened her eyes. Oh no, what if he loses his memory? It was a serious car accident after all. Stop it, Abby, Naveen didn’t mention a head injury. Oh no, what if he was lying? What if he was trying to make me feel better? What-

“Rookie...?” She looked back at her, only to observe Ethan staring intently at her, with a slight glimmer.

“Ethan...” She couldn’t hold back the tears this time. 

The ocean eyes lost glimmer and instead widened with evident alarm. “Abby, don’t cry. What happened?”

Abby released a tremulous breath, one that she barely knew she was holding. “A truck hit you car and it flipped a few times. You were in it. You had a major surgery in your lung and chest. The surgeons stopped your blood loss just in time. You have two broken ribs and a broken arm. And you were in a coma.”

If Ethan wasn’t alert before, then he definitely is after hearing her last statement. “I was in a coma? For how long?”

“Just for a day, luckily. It’s New Year’s Eve.”

She looked at her watch. 

“... 11:55 P.M.”

Ethan nodded his head slowly, before gently stroking her cheek to wipe away the salty droplets of water. “Rookie, don’t cry. I’m awake now, am I not?”

She broke. Again. 

“B-but, I th-thought you wouldn’t m-make it. I thought y-you would never w-wake up. I thought o-our future was de-destroyed. I thought I would ne-never see you bl-blue eyes again. I thought-”

She gave up saying the last sentence and the first sob came out. Ethan’s heart broke piece by piece before shattering. 

“Lie down with me.”

She was hesitant. “But w-what if I h-hurt you?”

“You won’t,” Ethan assured. “I want to hold you.”

Slowly, she got up from the uncomfortable plastic chair and gently lied down with him. Her hand came around his waist, mindful of his injuries. Ethan’s hand went to the daily job of stroking her hair down. 

“I’m right here. Our dream will never be shattered as long as we have each other’s hearts. Even if I did die-”

“Ethan, stop-”

“No, Abigail, let me say this. Even if I did die, our hearts would be mended together. If you died, I would never love someone else again. You would be mine always, no matter what happens. My heart would belong to you and only you.”

Joyful and comforting tears obscured her vision. “I love you, Ethan.”

“I love you, too, Rookie. To the squares of infinity.”

Just then, they both heard the countdown. 11:59 P.M.

Ten.

Nine.

Eight.

Seven.

“Are you ready?” Ethan asked.

Six.

Five.

Abby smiled. “Hell yeah, I am.”

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

And their lips met at the stroke of midnight, fulfilling his promise.

“Happy New Year, Abigail.” The former attending said, a beautiful grin adoring his face.

“Happy New Year, Ethan.” Abby returned with the same grin.

As sleep was overtaking both of them with colorful fireworks decorating the night sky, Abby managed to ponder on one more thought.

Good riddance, 2020.

notes: If you’ve made it this far, thank you!

notes 2: Happy New Year, and good riddance! Let’s all pray for a good year this time. I wrote this fic in one day, and I am pretty impressed of myself. But I thought I would give you one more fic as this year comes to a close. Forgive me if there were any spelling mistakes or grammar errors. Thanks for reading, and hope you enjoyed! ʕ•́ᴥ•̀ʔっ

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