#her own life and apartment and only sees him sporadically just to keep up appearances

[alumort]

ao3

commission for the lovely StarAmulet @ toyhouse! <3

The forest was safe, and that was where they always rested, no matter how far away from the closest city they were. Woods would hide and protect them without a single question, keeping them away from humanity’s claws.

Even though Brianne was a human herself, she didn’t feel close to most of her kind. Instead, the girl found herself home wherever her mom was– Iluma, an enormous troll who had taken her in as one of her own.

Hence why the woods were always a refuge for both of them, somewhere that the humans didn't dare explore on their own. Their depth was reserved only for magical beings, and the girl was now one of them, in a way. She had begun to play around with different spells some time in the past, and she did nothing but improve with every passing night with the sporadic help of different wizards around the world – Brianne helped her mom explore through the undergrowth around them, bringing a faint light to them only with a slight flick of her fingers, lighting their way until they were able to stop on a forgotten cavern; big enough just for the two of them.

They were safe. And she knew well in which part of the world they were in, giving her hope to meet a certain magic apprentice that she was fond of– one of the few humans Brianne got along with.

“You look happy, Child,” Iluma commented as her daughter got off her back, letting out a smile; even if it was a small gesture, it seemed enormous due to her size. “Is it about… him?”

Brianne chuckled and looked away before taking out some foraged food from her bag, offering it to the troll while sitting down on the ground. Iluma laid down beside her, letting her lean towards the grass that covered the upper part of her rocky body, gently grabbing some fruit without rush.

“It's been a while since I saw Douxie… do you think he'll recognize me?” the girl said, playing with her hair as she spoke, distracting herself by dividing the red streaks and the black parts of it and then combining them again.

“Oh, you haven't changed since you saw him last,” Iluma replied, carefully embracing her child in her arms, who returned the hug in no time. “He'll recognize you, Child. Don't worry.”

Not too long passed until it was time to sleep, and Brianne hid in her mom’s arms, knowing she would be safe and sound with her.

~

Going near human settlements made some things easier for the small family; getting warm food and good provisions was one of them… though, those weren’t free, and they had to find a way to obtain whatever they needed. Over the years, Brianne had gotten all kinds of odd jobs, if only it meant Iluma wouldn’t risk her life for her sake, like she had done many times in the past. Trolls weren’t welcome in the human world, after all.

It wasn't hard to find work in kingdoms, especially in Camelot, and Brianne had managed to become a seller in a bakery in less than an hour– it was in a quiet place of the kingdom, and her boss was nice enough to give her snacks for her break. There wasn’t anything better in the world than that, apart from being almost done with her shift.

Or so she thought, until a familiar face showed up; the girl would recognize those blue streaks between black hair anywhere, more with the dark “cat” following him, and a smile appeared on her lips by mere instinct.

“Douxie!” she exclaimed, chuckling as the boy jumped out of surprise. His eyes brightened up just by seeing her, and Brianne's worries faded away in mere seconds, as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

“Brianne, you're back! It's been so long!” Douxe replied, going for a hug which Brianne returned with a huge smile, though her boss coughed to catch their attention. Only then did they let go, cheeks flushed. “Oh– right, you're probably working now. I'm here for some bread for Merlin, and… We need to catch up. What if you come to the castle after your shift?”

“But you need to–” Archie began to say, closing his mouth as the bakery’s owner noticed him, not wanting to risk him panicking out of a sudden. It had happened before, after all.

Seeing that nobody else was waiting to pay, Brianne nodded and played with her hair, leaning on the counter, and her boss just chuckled at the scene yet went on with his things.

“I’ll be free in a few minutes, if you can wait,” she teased, and Douxie rolled his eyes, not minding it at all. The girl handed him his bread and chuckled, and soon it was time to go.

Everything was pretty uneventful afterwards as night approached and less people were seen in the streets, so her boss let her go home earlier– though Brianne tagged alongside her boyfriend and his familiar, wandering through the kingdom with no worries at all.

To make sure Iluma was aware of her whereabouts, Douxie had offered to help her teleport a letter to their cave, knowing it had worked as they ended up with stones on their hands instead of paper. Brianne was still working on her magic, and switching the placement of items was one of the first things she had learnt– still, the support was helpful nonetheless. He had held her hands to support her, and they ended up walking with entwined fingers towards the castle, talking about what had happened in the time they hadn’t been able to see each other.

Brianne had some new spells to show him– but not in public. King Arthur hadn’t lifted the ban on magic, after all. She wouldn’t push it, grateful that they still had a small space where nobody would bother them about it, as long as nobody but Merlin and the knights saw them.

“Sorry for the mess, I… didn’t expect to invite anyone, honestly,” Douxe said before inviting her to his room, opening the door for her and doing a small bow, making her chuckle.

“Oh, I know you already,” she teased, and he just rolled his eyes with a little smile. “It won't surprise me.”

The boy's bedroom had more things that she'd imagined for such a small space, and he had not so subtly made an attempt to clean a bit once they were inside. Enough to allow them to sit on his bed, at least, while Archie preferred to sit on a small chair beside the desk.

“You still need to practice the spells Merlin tasked you with,” Archie reminded his friend, who just ignored him, using his magic to levitate the chair the dragon cat was in, chuckling when he rolled his eyes and flew towards his desk to avoid falling down. “Well… that’s certainly practicing, in a way.”

Brianne’s green gaze focused on the magic her boyfriend was doing so effortlessly, as if it was not unlike breathing – only with a small movement of his wrist, acting as if it was nothing out of the ordinary. She was in awe, to say the least, and Douxie quickly noticed.

“Bri, do you wanna do it too? I can teach you! It's really easy, see– you just need to imagine something going up, and guide it with your hand,” he exclaimed while gesturing, and Brianne imitated him as well as she could, deciding to practice with a shoe so as to not strain herself by accident. “Now, imagine that your magic goes towards the object, wrapping it… and moving it somewhere.”

“It's like a teleport spell!” the girl noted, and that way it was much easier– she could levitate the shoe she intended to, and then pillows and many other little things, becoming easier and easier with every attempt.

At one point, Brianne tried to make herself float, giggling once her feet were away from the ground– though, it didn’t last for long, as trying to walk on air seemed to break the spell and made her fall down.

Thankfully, Douxie had been paying attention and caught her with his own magic, carefully placing her on the mattress while making sure nothing bad happened to her– always being gentle, for once not rushing at all. He didn’t let go until his girlfriend was safely sitting beside him, and Brianne couldn’t help it but chuckle, hugging him without saying much.

Archie just rolled his eyes and walked away, allowing them to have their space while grabbing the bread with his mouth, probably going towards where Merlin was.

With all the spells they were using, neither of them noticed that time had passed and the moon had appeared on the sky alongside the stars– it was getting colder, and Brianne suddenly realized how tired she was; no matter how many odd jobs she got, they still made her feel exhausted at the end of the day.

She ended up leaning towards Douxie, who chuckled and held her in his arms, covering them up with his blankets to keep themselves warm; Brianne yawned, moving closer to her boyfriend and closing her eyes, smiling as he began carefully caressing her hair while she fell asleep on his hold.

Some humans were nice to her, and Douxie was the clear example of it.

[buckyownsmylife]

Oh, well, imagine - Andy Barber smut

The one where Andy gets tired of living a double life 

Word count: 2K<

Warnings: smut, sugar relationship, infidelity (reader is the other woman), daddy kink, breeding kink, dubcon because Andy does stuff without getting reader’s consent beforehand, unprotected sex.

A/N: this was written for @donutloverxo​‘s #sugary4kchallenge! I took the opportunity to write something in the same universe as my first Andy fic, I write sins not tragedies, but this could be read by itself. Congrats on 4k, sweetheart!

Y/N’s P.O.V.

The sound of the door being slammed startled me, almost making me drop the dishes I’d been washing. My eyebrows furrowed, confused and worried about what was going on. Only Andy had the key to the apartment, so I wasn’t curious as to who it was, just what had him behaving that way. In all the time we’d known each other, I’d never once seen him angry.

Still, when he appeared by the kitchen, it was clear that was the case. His chest heaved with the simple task of breathing, and when his eyes fell on me, they seemed darker. I almost felt scared - I probably would, if I didn’t trust him so much.

“Andy?” I asked, but he immediately shook his head.

“Not what you call me, princess.” Automatically, I stood up straighter, body electrified by the meaning behind his words. I knew what he wanted, even if it was clearly that more than desire. He needed this.

“Daddy.” He nodded once, clearly pleased at my acknowledgment. But there was still so much I needed to understand. “Why are you looking at me like that?” Instead of answering, he just kept staring at me long and hard, making me feel small and naked under his attention.

“Come here.”

My legs obeyed instantly, having been trained long enough to do exactly what he said without having to think about it. “Good girl.” The compliment was like some pavlovian buzzer to my poor cunt. I could feel the fabric of my underwear begin to uncomfortably stick to my lower lips, and I shifted from one leg to the other as I waited for further instructions.

“Daddy needs you tonight,” he finally began explaining, a single finger running under my jaw to make sure I’d keep our eyes connected. “Will you let me do whatever I want to you and this body?”

The perspective excited me, and I didn’t know if I was stupid for it, but I found myself nodding anyway. At the end of the day, I trusted Andy with my life. I knew he wouldn’t push me further than I could take it, and if he ever came close to it, I always had my safeword.

“Yes, Daddy.” He rewarded me with a kiss, but it wasn’t a soft one. His tongue invaded my mouth and before I could even realize what I was doing, I had to find a hold on his shirt, standing on my tippy toes just so I wouldn’t completely tip over.

“Are you excited to help daddy?” He asked, fingers already making quick work of my clothes as I trembled with excitement in his hold. He looked feverish, like he couldn’t hold back anymore, his mouth nipping and sucking and biting every inch of skin he could find.

“Yes, Daddy,” I repeated, forever his subservient servant, knowing that aiding him would bring me to pleasures I’d never known before we’d met. I watched as he licked his lips, taking in my naked body before his, the kitchen a mess of my discarded clothes and abandoned dinner, but instead of taking off his clothes, his hands went directly to his belt.

“Lay back on the floor.” It took me a full second to understand what he was saying, but thankfully he didn’t read it as hesitation. Instead, despite his eager state, he watched as I slowly lowered myself to the cold marble, stopping once I was on my knees to make sure of what he really wanted.

“Lay back,” he repeated, nodding towards me, and despite my confusion, I did as he said, gasping once my naked back met the icy stone. My nipples hardened against the air of the silent apartment and under his gaze, and I gasped when he knelt before me, hands reaching out for my thighs as he pulled me even closer.

“So, so beautiful,” he moaned, and I watched stunned as he lowered himself until he was eye-level with my navel, and I felt more than saw as his tongue stuck out and collected the wetness that was already threatening to drip from me. “And mine, all mine.”

The first time he’d said that, there was a conversation to be held right after we both came back from our highs. I needed to make sure that he remembered what this was, and he laughed when I tried to phrase it as sweetly as possible.

“I know this isn’t conventional,” he’d said, “but as long as it lasts, you’re mine. In and out of this apartment, but especially in this bed.” It didn’t take too long to realize that he was right.

I truly was his. My body responded to him in a way it’d never reacted to anyone else before. And I knew that whenever this little affair of ours came to an end, he would still forever own parts of me I’d never even realized I had before we met.

Andy’s P.O.V.

My mind was becoming hazier by the second. I needed to make sure she understood what was going to happen before I completely lost it. But first, I knew I’d hate myself if I didn’t take advantage of the delicious meal laid bare before me.

“Daddy!” She screamed, fingers curling around my strands as I lapped her up, rubbing my bearded jaw on the apex of her thighs. She was everything. I had never wanted anyone the way that I wanted her. And I knew that I never would again.

It was why I couldn’t lose her.

Connecting our eyes, I pushed two fingers inside of her and immediately curled them as I searched for that sweet spot I’d memorized so many months before, knowing I’d struck gold when she cried out for me again.

“Yeah, baby… I know you like that, sweet girl. So sweet for me, aren’t you?” I knew she wouldn’t be able to answer, and I didn’t mind. I could barely speak myself. The need to have her was just too strong, and so I kept licking her pussy and fucking it with my fingers until I felt her clench around my digits, not even waiting for her to calm down as I immediately raised to my knees and worked on releasing my member from its confines.

“Better get ready, princess… I won’t be able to stop until I’m done with you.” The lust in her hazy eyes was unmistakable, but just as I was about to plunge into her, warm hands found their way inside my shirt, holding my chest to stop me. 

“Andy… the condom…” but I wasn’t having it.

“No,” I announced it, the finality in my voice clear as day as I pushed her arms down against the floor and penetrated her slowly, making sure to watch her jaw going slack as it always did at my first thrust.

When I saw that the initial shock had started to subdue and she was about to argue, I took her lips with mine, devouring her mouth the way I’d done with her pussy just seconds before. “I’m fucking you just like this, and you’re gonna take it.”

She wiggled underneath me, but it seemed more like she was going through the motions of showing that she didn’t want that than actually trying to make me stop.

It didn’t stop me. She would never be able to stop me. Not when I was in this mindset, not when I needed her so much. “I’m tired of wanting you,” I admitted. “I’m tired of wanting you, having you and then going back to wanting you again. I will never have my fill of you, I know that now. I need you.”

Her pussy clenched around me sporadically, her moans escaping her lips as she failed to speak when my hips grew quicker, my thrusts more forceful. “I need you more than sexually. I’m desperate for you, baby.”

And finally, she stopped squirming, her eyes suddenly widening in realization as my voice betrayed all of the emotions I was feeling. “I want to come home to you, Y/N. Only you.”

My confession earned her surrender. I felt her muscles relax underneath me, a sign of her acceptance of my new quest for ownership of her body, and so I could finally release her hands to run mine all over her skin.

“Don’t worry, sweet girl,” I whispered once the tempo became softer, but no less passionate. “I haven’t fucked her since we met.” I could see the shock in her expression, and I knew what she would argue.

“That’s not what I’m worried about.” I shook my head at her silliness, stroking her cheek after I kissed her one more time. I could see my future in her eyes, even if she didn’t allow herself to see hers in mine.

“I want to get you pregnant, Y/N.” And there it was. The truth and my heart, stripped of all pretense, exposed for her to see. And if I feared the rejection, the way her eyes softened before she pulled me to another kiss sealed our fate.

“I love you so fucking much.” And so we made passionate, desperate sex on the kitchen floor. I fucked her so hard, it didn’t take much to have her drooling for me. I drowned all of my worries and sorrows in her sweet pussy, making sure to worship every single inch of her body with my lips and tongue.

“I’m gonna keep you forever, princess,” I promised, heart aching just at the thought of ever losing her. “She won’t ever take you from me. Ever.” At the reminder of the reality of our situation, the fact that she was “the other one”, her body writhed underneath me, her struggle to fight back once again rising, but I wasn’t having any of it.

“Ever, baby,” I promised against her lips, silencing her cries with a deep, sloppy kiss that only ended when I needed to gather some air. “I can’t even think of having to live without you.” 

The rhythm of our hips finding one another kept up, the sounds growing exponentially wetter with each second, with each drop of her arousal that collected on her lower lips, lubricating my member and aiding my goal to fill her up until it lathered the floor beneath us.

“You won my heart,” I confessed, making sure that she’d see the honesty deep in my eyes. “You left me no choice but to fall for you. Now I won’t live without you.” A desperate cry tore from deep within her, rekindling the passion with which I fucked her. Normally I was so sweet to her, so patient. But I knew she liked this as well. She liked to be fucked like a whore, even if she was as far removed from one as possible.

“Call my name, sweet girl.” It was a plea, a desperate need to blur the lines between what our relationship was and what I wanted it to become until they disappeared altogether. “Say you are mine. Say it.”

She was drooling now, and I knew how hard it was for her to find the words I needed her to say as she succumbed to bliss right there, on the kitchen floor, with me. Still, her scream penetrated my hazy mind, adding to the overwhelming tightness that squeezed me, begging for my cum, “I’m yours! I’m yours, Andy.”

The aftermath found us breathless, with flushed chest and flushed cheeks. I don’t think I’d ever seen anything quite as beautiful as the nervous but hopeful look with which she gazed at me. I knew what she needed to hear, and with a kiss on her forehead, I reassured her, “Let’s go to bed, princess. You won’t be sleeping alone tonight.”

And as we cuddled the night away, the unspoken became clear and clear. Not tonight, nor ever again.

[demonologistfucker]

MC wants to meet some Creatures - Obey Me! Brother’s - Fluff

Gn!mc asks one of the brothers to take them to find a magical creature. This is for the main brothers, but if people want one for the newly datables just ask! I would love to do more <3

Lucifer

Is Cerberus not enough? We can go down and pet him if you like 

It’s going to take some convincing to get this trip to happen. Needlessly risking the human's life just to see something neat? I think not 

But your eyes were so big when you asked… fine. He’ll find something worthwhile that isn’t going to get you killed

Prep for the trip is Lucifer covering you in about 50 different protection spells. 

Then you’ll be flying. Hold on tightly and try not to look directly into the wind. That’s not good for your human eyes. Lucifer’s arms are firm around you as his wings stretch out. With a push you’re off. Being lifted from the ground purely from the strength of his wings? It’s an undescribable feeling. 

Soon you are out of the Devildom and flying above the Hell Wilds. A vast landscape of all sorts of terrors. From red grasses that could cut through bone, or the vast tar fields that bubble toxic gas. There is a beauty to it. Especially if you are safe above it all.

A large canyon comes into sight. “This canyon was cut by Lotan’s first rampage, and where Levi made Lotan his pet.” Lucifer begins to descend. Swooping down in a tight spiral to slip into the canyon. 

It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the darkness. Then you can see something glowing. Many somethings glowing. They crawl over the canyon sides. They are nothing like you’ve seen before, but if you were to pin down to something earth like… they are most similar to sea slugs? But they have legs and bright, piercing eyes. With beautiful fins running down their back. Each looks to be a droplet of a rainbow. 

“Gems left in the earth can collect enough magic to come to life.” They have no name, but they could fit in the palm of your hand. Tho please don’t touch they are highly condensed magical creatures and could shred your human body without meaning too.

Mammon

“Can I trust you?” He looks at you with surprising serious. Though he’s scratching his chin which makes it a little hard to take him seriously. When you say Of Course, Mammon quickly cracks into a grin. “Alright, give me a day, but-” He just starts nodding and runs off. Delighted with his own idea too much to tell you more

The Next day you meet Mammon outside the house of lamentation. He is already in his demon form and has a large sack in his hands. Which appears to be full of weird trinkets and a whole lot of grimm. 

Where are you going? The Hell Wilds. Which is… so unhelpful because the Hell wilds are nearly infinite. 

Mammon scoops you up bridle style, and then you’re off into the air. Mammon cannot stop smiling, “I haven’t taken anyone here before.” He mainly says this too himself. But looks at you with so much delighted you can’t help but blush. 

This would be a much longer flight if Mammon wasn’t so good at using the air currents to his advantage. Diving to catch the updraft that send you both rocketing through the air. You’re at not risk of danger. Mammon wouldn’t let that happen to you, but it does feel like a roller coaster. When you level out, you’re facing a dark mountain. It cuts into the air with jagged certainty. Mammon lands halfway up its sides. 

“She doesn’t like it when I fly into the nest. So we’ll have to walk to the rest.” If you ask any questions about what is happening. His response is a grin. “You know how Crows and I get along? Well… this is where that started.”

The mountain is only partial rock. The rest is ash, twigs and mud stuck together to keep the mountain from falling apart. Crows and ravens sit perched along the cliff sides. Some crows come flying to the mountain with fresh mud to repair parts of the mountain. The dark birds watch you and Mammon with intense, unrelenting eyes. Mammon smiles to them, and carries on with ease. 

The path winds up to a crack in the side of the mountain. Mammon gestures for you to wait outside while he walks in first. You can hear something massive stir. The rustle of feathers and the scratch of claws against stone. Then Mammon pokes his head out and beckons you in.

Curled within the mountain is a great beast. It’s hard to tell one part from another because she is massive, and her dark feathers blend into each other. Her head is stuffed into the bag Mammon brought. When she sits up, she has a golden cup in her maw. The Crow Drake is stunning and terrifying. Her eyes are molten red, and her teeth cut through the gold. 

The Crow Drake is the matriarch from all the crows and ravens in Hell. When Mammon was young, he fled to this mountain and was given a drake’s comforts. As well as his first crow familiar. 

She reaches up to get a good look at you. Her beak pressing against you. Nudging you around and bringing her eyes right up to yours. Then she sits back and let's out a satisfied sqwaks. Mammon is about to say something when the Crow Drake leans over and picks him up by the collar of his jacket. Mammon is plopped onto her soft back, and she begins preening his hair. Making little noises every once in a while. “I know I used too much conditioner, stop harassing me” Mammon is blushing fiercely. 

Levi

“Gah! Why can’t Lotan be more gentle.” Levi really wants you to meet Lotan, but it’s highly likely that Lotan would try to kill you the moment you met. All the photos of Lotan have been just… blue scales, or a big eyeball. 

But Lotan is one of many Sea serpents. Actually, there are all sorts of magical creatures in the sea, and Levi is going to tell you about All of them. While he tries to figure out how to make sure you can breathe underwater. 

“I am not allowed near the merfolk palace though, so... Can’t take you there.” If pushed on the matter, he will turn red and stammer about how Lotan just wanted a snack. 

He found a spell! He’ll need Solomon’s help, but it should give you 24 hours of breathing underwater. Now it’s time to go into his tank. 

Did you assume that he just had a normal wall sized fish tank? Of course not. The back wall has been turned into a convenient portal to The Ocean. It’s not an earth ocean, and hell doesn’t actually have a lot of clean water. This Ocean is an in between realm that connects to the abstract of earth’s waters, and all the magic that one could possibly find in those depths. 

At first Levi gets distracted showing you all the fish. Look at the coral! And the trigger Fish! Oh, what a pretty anemone. He’s so caught up in showing you around that he’s not even embarrassed to be holding your hand the whole time.

 Levi is such a strong swimmer he barely even notices dragging you along with him. His tail easily propels you both forward, and with great agility he can swim through the coral reefs. Then you hit the edge. Suddenly there is a vast nothing below you. Light fades below. 

Down you go! It would be more unsettling if you didn’t have leviathan right besides you. Who is practically vibrating with his excitement. Underwater Levi looks so much more comfortable. Moving with such ease and without any hesitation.

You can feel the water begin to shift as something Massive approaches. Levi pauses and let's out a trill. Which is met by a deep noise that rattles your bones. 

Red is a hard color to see in the deep ocean. Not enough light in that wave length can reach that far down. So at first it’s just a dark dot in the distances. Then it’s brilliant red head comes surging towards you. The water rushes around as the sea serpent begins to swim in a spiral around you and Leviathan. Leviathan is beaming and spinning around to keep up with the Serpent’s face. Letting out happy trills sporadically. 

Eventually the Sea Serpent settles down and lets its body relax out. The Serpent stretches out so far that it’s back fines look so small. Yet their face is larger than a bus. The Serpent looks at you for a long while, and then it flicks it head upward. Which makes Leviathan blush a vibrant red. 

She approves

Satan

Satan needs two weeks to prepare! But he has an idea. How do you feel about sewers?

“The Devildom aqueducts are actually one of the cleanest places in hell. It’s really an astounding work of engineering-” he goes on for a while about all the intricate workings. Seems there is a lot of plant filtering the waters, as well as creatures that can digest what the plants can’t process. 

Satan gives you one of his books of magic. “I am their friend, but if you want them to accept your presence, it’s best to provide a gift. To show you mean well.” Unlike the others, Satan will give you a heads-up on whom you’re about to meet. Though, he gives the explanation as you’re walking towards the sewer’s entrance. 

“Their name is Elos, and they are one of the oldest chimera’s alive. They were created in less than stellar circumstances, but handled it rather well.” By eating their creator. “Now they used the leftover alchemical equipment to do their own studying, as well as keep the aqueduct ecosystem in balance.”

The entrance looks like any other sewer grate in a city. Satan can easily move the heavy cover off, and watches as you begin to climb down the ladder. Satan closes the cover as he starts his descent. The sewers are Massive. The tunnel is about 20 feet wide and 20 tall. A perfect circle, except for the walk ways going along the side. A sort of seaweed is growing at the bottom of the waterways. Little fish duck in and out of the waving reeds. Further in more plants grow along the side. Some areas have full banks that cover the waterways. You can also see long claw marks running along the sides of the tunnel. As well as the residue of a recent magical explosion. “Hmm, looks like Elos got annoying company.” Satan smirks at the blast marks. 

One of the original designers of the sewers was the grand wizard who made Elos. So there is a laboratory at the dead center of the sewer system. If one were to look at the blueprints, you’d be able to see a magic circle drawn by the tunnels. Well almost one. Those plans were later worked over to fix the functionality of the sewer system for the devildom. Elos didn’t want to do any city wide magic, so they aren’t really upset about it. 

Outside of Elos’s laboratory is a large blue door. Painted on it are bright yellow runes that start to shimmer green as Satan approaches. Satan knocks, and it’s a full three minutes before the sound of the door unlocking. With effort, it swings inwards, and the smell of chemicals and herbs assaults your nostrils. 

Satan goes about the polite introduction. Leading you into the laboratory, but it’s hard to pay attention. There are so many strange machines littered across the room, and Elos themself is a feat to understand. Their face is divided into three parts, one of a bull, one of a woman, and the other of an ape. They have large arms with hands that drag across the floor. Their fingers are thin claws of a bird. Chest comes from some great lizard not from earth. Hide legs appear to be lion like, and its tail is an arched scorpion stinger. Elos looks at you with deep eyes. 

When you present the spell book Satan gave you. Elos sneers at you but takes the book. “A gift provided from someone else is weaker… but will do.” her voice is a dry and raspy. Speaking with vocal cords never crafted for such intricate language. 

Asmodeous

“Want to meet some of the lovelies that help me torment souls?!”  

They’re the creature Asmodeous has easy access to, so I recommend saying yes if you want to go with him

“They’re for a very specific time of person. The sort who think their beauty makes up for all the harm they caused.” A dark look smolders in Asmo’s eyes, but when he looks at you, it softens. Back to his normal bright heart eyes. 

Asmo summons a cab to drive you both to the outskirts of the devildom. To… a ranch? Soft green meadows stretch out as far as you can see. Wooden fences mark the edge of the road. When you look close, you can see sigils carved into the posts. 

Out in the field you can see them. Powerful horses with glimmering spiraled horns. Some are pure white with long wavy mains, but they are as diverse as any herd of horses. 

“My beautiful unicorns,” Asmo leans over the fences to get a better look at them. “You’ll get to have a closer look at those in the stables right now. They won’t be too happy about being locked up, but they’re so wonderful just to look at.”

These unicorns come from more of a… vicious tradition. Their diets are completely carnivorous and with a strong preference for humans. 

While you enter the stables, Asmo explains that these stables are more for necessary check-ups, and not where the unicorns stayed. They had their own dens somewhere in the meadows. Asmo hadn’t cared to find it, but it is out there. 

So the unicorns that are in are here to have a thorough cleaning by one of the stable works. No you cannot help I’m afraid. These Unicorns would not be able to tell you apart from the souls they are encouraged to feast upon. All the other folk who work at the stable are non-human, and they still get bite. What’s worse is when a Unicorn decided to charge. 

To make sure none of that happens, you’ll be safely on the other side of the door. Even though you can’t get close. You still can see the Unicorns very well. They are beautiful creatures. The shortest is still taller than the average horses. With eyes set more forward on their skull, and sharp angular bodies. Their legs are less brittle. With hooves that are divined into three sharp angles. 

While most of the unicorns with in the stable seem antsy to leave. They all give their own greeting to Asmo. A dappled gray is the most affectionate. Letting Asmo pet the sides of their face, and rubbing up against Asmo’s head. It looks at you with curiosity. Sniffs the air and whinnies. “I know,” Asmo coos. “They are very tasty looking, but you can’t have any. I want this human to stick around.” The Unicorn snorts and flicks it tail in annoyance.

Beelzebub

His eyes light up when you ask to meet some magical creatures. “We won’t have to go too far… but we should wait till the house is quiet.” Que Mammon sprinting through the hallways trying to out run Lucifer. “They don’t like the ruckus.”

Beel asks you to meet him in the kitchen once everyone else has gone to their rooms. When you enter you find him setting out a tray with a dish of milk, honey, and some crackers. He then hands you a block of cheese. “Cut up some cubes of this.” and so you do. Beel doesn’t take any food from the tray, but he does rummage in the fridge while you get the cheese ready. 

Once it’s all ready, Beel sets the tray in the middle of the counter. He then pulls out a little golden bell, and rings it.  There is a beat of silence, and then doors you had never seen before open. One door is tucked into the wall trim, another in the backspace, and a third underneath the cabinets. Who comes tumbling out are small fuzzy creatures. They walk on their hind legs, and have large flat faces. Almost like a bat, but their eyes are old and wise. They are dressed in hand stitched clothes made from old table clothes, towels, or other scraps of fabric they could steal without much fuss. 

“Who is this?!” One of them points pocket knife at you. “My friend,” Beel says and when he looks at you he can’t help but smile. “Hmm… did your friend cut this cheese?” Beel nods. “Next time make them smaller. Our children will struggle to hold these.”

These are House Brownies. A type of fae that can be found in most loving homes. They are a people of high standards but with over whelming big hearts. Beel is the main reason the house brownies live within the house of lamentation. No one else remembers to set out food for them. So no one else gets the help of the Brownies. Beel however often finds that his chores have been done for him, and snacks are often left on his bed side table. Small snack since the brownies can’t carry too much, but he deeply appreciates it. 

Brownies are some of the easiest fae to talk with. The worst you can do is hurt their pride, but they are quick to accept earnest apologies. Not the sort of fae who will steal your name and trick you into dancing yourself to death… well… There have been a couple brownies who have done that. But the people were true assholes. 

One of the brownies who is dress in a floral dress comes up to you. They give you a once over, and then start to climb up the back of your shirt. Now on your shoulder, the Brownie sniffs your face and pokes your cheeks. The Brownie’s whiskers tickle, and it’s hard not to react. But their fur is so soft, and they smell like honey and clove. 

“You should have brought this one sooner.” The floral Brownie says in a sing-song voice. “They can bring us human snacks, yes?” “I want a candy!” Another brownie cheers. “Are human homes as noisy as demon homes?” “What is a cat? We hear the mean one speak of them, but never have seen them.” “Is cat friend or foe to the brownie?” Another brownie is now climbing you. This one decided to perch on the top of your head. “Human smells nice. Keep them Beel.”

Belphegor

“Okay, but you’re paying for their snacks.”

Which turned out to be nearly ten pounds of red meat. You’re also the one who has to carry the bag as you walk into the properly sketchy parts of the Devildom city. Belphegor looks as nonchalant as normal. Except for when he needs to glare at any other Demon who might start making eyes at you. 

Now it’s into the dark alleys you go. Winding past business and into tight brick alley ways. The surrounding buildings seem to tower up through the sky. Blocking the darkness above. There is even a hint of sulfur in the air. 

“Alright, set the meat down.” Belphegor stops at the intersection of four alley ways. It makes a small circle in the middle. The ground is dark and stained from years of murk. Moss grows up the walls, and blooms in the cracks. You set the meat down and then back up next to Belphegor. “Are you nervous?” He grins a little and then brings his fingers to his lips and whistles Loud. 

You can hear them running. Many heavy feet charging down the paths. They’re coming from every direction, and now hear their panting breath. Growling and snarls as they try to be the first to reach their meal. 

If you thought earthly wolves are big. You are blown away by the size of hellhounds. They keep their heads low but still stand at least three feet tall. Their teeth are as black as their fur, and they have barbed tails that whip back and forth in a frenzy. The Hell hounds are at first completely distracted by the food left out for them. 

“When they’re not hungry, they’re really sweet.” Belphegor crosses his arms and leans back against the wall. Patiently waiting for the Hell Hounds to calm down. “They’re in the city to hunt down pests. Lucifer see’s them as exterminators,” One of the Hell Hounds now trots over to Belphegor. It rams its head into his stomach, demanding attention. Belphie laughs a little and starts to scratch its ears. Now content that it’s getting love. The Hell Hound eyes you. First a sniff, and then it tries to bite your clothes. “Hey,” Belphie says in a stern voice, and that’s all the Hound needed. You’re not food? Well then you must be friend too. 

The message is spread through the rest of the pack, and soon you are surrounded. The Hell Hounds breath is rancid, and they will not stop trying to give you kisses. 

Two of the hounds manage to get Belphie on the ground, and sit on top of him. Belphie’s face is flushed, and he only tries to get them off half-heartedly. Then accepts their cuddles and closes his eyes. “They’re not allowed in the house. So I come here a lot… you can join me next time if you want.”

A/N: Thank you @squidubus for the great idea of Mama Crow Drake preening Mammon’s hair. I luuuv uuuu

[oddaodd]

·A Conjured Up Death Wish·

Summary: Y/n begins to worry about how much damage Grace’s ghost can cause. 

Author’s note: This was requested by the lovely @captivatedbycillianmurphy  and I just have to say I instantly fell in love with this request because I love ghosts and the occult so I really hope I did it justice. As always, I wish you all the loveliest of days. ❤️

Warnings: mentions of death, ghosts and death wishes. 

·

“Could we take it down?” Y/n spoke almost timidly one night as she laid in bed next to her husband.

“Take what down?”

“Grace’s picture in the staircase” she said looking at tommy’s face assessing his reaction

She saw the way he seemed to stiffen at the mention of her name, specially if she was the one mentioning it.

“Why?” He asked although he knew it was unnecessary. Did he really need a reason other than her just not wanting to keep the picture of his ex-wife?

Y/n knew she had to thread lightly. Grace had always been a sensitive topic. She could lie and say she didn’t want her picture in her walls because it pained her, but she decided to go with the truth.

“I feel her eyes following me whenever I walk down the stairs”

When Tommy didn’t answer she took his hand in hers, soothingly rubbing her thumb on the back of his hand. Bringing his attention back to her

“Im not asking you to get rid of it, just maybe hang it someplace else so I don’t have to see it everyday”

Tommy squeezed her hand meaning he understood her reasons before pressing a soft kiss to her lips and giving a soft sigh

“Alright” he said before turning around, his back to her.

She scooted closer to him and pressed a kiss to his exposed freckled skin “Thank you”

A few hours later Y/n woke up with a jolt after a rather horrid nightmare revolving around the painting. Tommy, oddly enough was still in bed next to her, sleeping soundly. After trying to fall asleep again and failing miserably, she got out of bed and made her way towards the bathroom for a glass of water. She took a few deep breaths and some gulps of water trying to calm herself down.

She felt somehow guilty of having asked Tommy to take the painting down and she felt angry at herself for feeling guilty. If she was honest with herself she had never been entirely comfortable with Tommy’s previous wife’s painting hanging there She had always wanted to take it down but never felt she had a good enough reason. Had she provoked herself a hallucination out of her need to take the blasted painting down?

After pondering for a while she settled assured it wasn’t the case. There had been after all, several occasions when she had seen a whisper of Grace lingering about the house and Tommy himself. At first she blamed her tiredness but when those tiny glimpses of her never vanished y/n didn’t know what to think.

She took a long look into the the mirror hoping for her own reflection to answer all the questions she had, prioritizing her main concern.

“Are we going mad ?”

But she didn’t get an answer, what she did however get, was another glimpse of Grace gliding behind her and out the door, her cold eyes staring deep into y/n’s warm ones.

Y/n turned around so fast she knocked the glass of water off the sink and it shattered as it hit the tiled floor. She cursed at herself before bending down and picking up the shards.

Tommy was across the door a few seconds later.

“Are you alright?” He asked .A slight tone of panic evident in his voice, consequence no doubt of being woken up by the silent crashing sound of the glass.

“Yeah” Y/n dismissed. “I accidentally dropped it, sorry for waking you” she said as she continued picking up the glass.

“Leave it, love. Someone will pick it up in the morning” Tommy said a bit more relaxed.

Y/n then walked towards him with shaky feet, careful not to step into any poignant glass before turning off the lights and taking one last look at the bathroom, half expecting to see Grace there. She felt a bit relaxed when she didn’t see her.

They made their way back to the bed and as she laid there in Tommy’s arms she wanted to tell him what she had seen but decided against it.

The next day Tommy took the painting down.

Some months passed and Y/n grew accustomed to Grace’s sporadic appearances and began ignoring them. In Y/n’s eyes there wasn’t much Grace could do, she was a ghost after all. No matter how many vases she knocked over and how many deadly stares she sent at Y/n to startle her, she wasn’t afraid.

Her calmness and acceptance however began to waver when she noticed Tommy was becoming distant. His stare was always lost, his opium intake had increased significantly and his omnipresent death wish was becoming more and more evident as he made alliances with men of dubious intentions. Much to y/n’s dismay her mind began to wonder how her life would be without him.

His presence suddenly felt jeopardized, the constant invasion of a sick feeling of knowing he wouldn’t be next to her forever followed her everywhere. She felt she was walking on thin ice and at any moment, she would plunge into the ice cold water beneath against her will and she didn’t know if she could survive its gelid temperatures.

She had taken to talking to Ada about it since she didn’t know what else to do. Y/n found out Ada was worried for Tommy too and far from comforting her, knowing so made her nasty feelings feel more real because it meant she wasn’t only being paranoid.  

One night when Y/n was hanging around Tommy’s home office (a habit she had picked up when he began spending less time at  home) she got a phone call from Ada. She told her that Tommy had just been to her place talking about standing on bridges and seeing Grace. The moment her name rang through Y/n’s ears she repressed a shiver. She thanked Ada for telling her, hurriedly hung up the phone and began to cry.

Now she was afraid of her.

Her cries echoed through the big office as dread filled her body. Her throat became sore and her eyelids heavy. She had never been in such despair before. She didn’t know for how long she cried until the sound of tires against gravel made her look up from her mascara stained hands and as she did she saw Grace standing before her. Clear as day. She wasn’t smiling but her expression held a certain glee. Did she like to see Y/n cry?

“Leave him the fuck alone!” She shouted at her, violently standing up from his desk hoping it would intimidate her.

When Grace didn’t even flinch Y/n threw an ashtray at her. The heavy object flew right threw her and then she disappeared.

Suddenly the doors opened and in came a worn out looking Tommy . His dull expression turned worried as his eyes fell on y/n’a disheveled face.

“Y/n, what..” but Y/n interrupted him as she engulfed him in a desperate hug afraid he would disappear too.

“You can’t listen to her” y/n cried urgently into his chest “Don’t do what the voices tell you to do, don’t do what she says”

Tommy didn’t have to ask who she was talking about. He pulled away from her grasp and looked into her face.

“Love, Don’t listen to what Ada tells you about me” he said in a fake nonchalant tone.

“I love you, Thomas and I don’t want to loose you” she confessed shamelessly “I don’t know what I’d do without you”

“You won’t loose me” he spoke hypocritically as if Y/n’s worries were completely irrational.

“Don’t do that. Don’t pretend everything is alright when it isn’t” she said with red eyes. “You are falling apart and I’m here watching you and I can’t do anything while Grace lures you away

“Don’t say that” he said weakly, feeling confronted.  

“She has to leave and the only one who can make her leave is you”

Tommy’s eyes glazed with sudden vulnerability coaxing a few more tears out of Y/n’s eyes. What If he  didn’t want Grace to leave?

“This path you’re walking is not a very long one and if you’re holding her hand it’s going to end sooner” she said cradling his head in her hands. “Please let me in”

She could see conflict brewing in Tommy’s eyes, before he sank into her embrace in acceptance. Would things ever be as they were before?

·

@peakyxtommy @writeroutoftime @nyotamalfoy @lilymurphy03

[shysneeze]

changing seasons (george weasley x fem!reader)

changing seasons 

description: adult relationships are complicated and painful, a fact George and the reader now far too well 

warnings: angst, a fleeting allusion to smut, brief passing mentions of food. 

a/n: excuse any typos, i wrote this as 3am and wasnt wearing glasses.

...

(Y/N) (Y/L/N) always comes when George least expects it, a knock on his door that turns a normal day into a fond memory. Even ruffled from international portkey travel, tumbling into the apartment to collapse tiredly on the couch, messy and unorganised, her arrival sends a smile straight to his cheeks every time.

Today she appears in the shop, grinning at him from the door and waving dramatically at him. He’s barely out from behind the till before she’s launching herself into his arms with a squeal.

“George!” She exclaims. “I’ve missed you!”

He takes a second to respond, dazed again as he usually is by her sudden appearances. He waits until he’s placing her down on the ground again to answer with a smile.

“I’ve missed you too, (Y/N).” He chuckles. “What on earth are you doing here?”

“The shop or the country?”

“Both.” He snorts.

“Well, as MACUSA recognises my top notch auror qualities, they’ve rewarded me a holiday and i figured the best place to spend it would be with my favourite red head”

she blinks up at him with a smile, one that has his grin growing wider, a talent she’s perfected after years of practice. She was his bestfriend through Hogwarts, before she moved to America for her dream job. Her visits though, can makke it feel normal, as though she never left in the first place.

“Don’t let Fred hear you say that.” He jokes. “You’ll bruise his ego.”

“You appear to be running the shop on your own today.” She observes. “Plus he could do with his ego being taken down a few.”

“He’s out on a lunch date with Angelina.” George informs. “He’ll be back soon for you to bully.”

“The excitement is killing me already.”

Grinning at her, he can’t help the urge to pull her into a second hug, wrapping his arms around her tightly as he always does when she comes back from the states, making up for all the hugs they’ve missed .

“Listen, the afternoon rush is about to start...” He admits once pulling away. “You can wait upstairs if you like.”

“That sounds great.”

“You can help yourself to anything in the kitchen.” He assures. “Most of its Fred’s.”

She nods, giving him one final smile and making her way up the stairs as has become her tradition after arrival. Right on cue, George calls her name softly and she turns back to him again to catch the warmth in his eyes.

“It’s good to have you back.”

“It’s good to be here, Georgie.”

...

She’s lying on his sofa wearing one of his shirts when he retires from work for the day. Head flung back against one of the arm rests, she holds a book above her, precariously hung from her finger tips as she reads.

He can feel the warmth flooding his chest at the sight and he’s quick to kick his shoes off to join her, flopping down on to the cushion at the other end of the sofa and stretching his legs until they tangle with her own.

“How was your shift?”

“Grueling.” He confesses with a chuckle. “Did you steal all the biscuits?”

“Only the ones I like.”

She seems to finish the chapter she’s on before shutting the book, sliding it onto the coffee table. She gifts him a soft look, sitting up to our stretch her hands in an attempt to express her desire for a hug, one he’s seen so often he doesn’t even need to decipher it.

As is their usual routine, he mimics her action until a grin stretches at her lips and she’s clambering forward and landing haphazardly on his chest, her head beneath his chin and her arms wrapped around his torso.

Her visits might be sporadic and often brief, but to George they’re everything. It’s a relationship not many have tried to understand, the way she appears on his doorstep and in an hours time ends up on his arms, all without the label of being his girlfriend.

They wouldn’t trade it though, not the conversation, the cuddles or the kisses, for a anything else the world could give them.

“Thank you for always being here for me whenever i get back.” She whispers into the quiet apartment. “You’re the best.”

George is almost too distracted by the rise and fall of her chest felt on his, on the way her gentle breaths fill the silent apartment and how she fits him perfectly, as if they were made for this exact situation. Then, kissing her head gently he replies.

“Anything.” He exhales. “Anything for you, (Y/N).”

The next thing she wants to say is always too far, though it’s absence lingers in the air, palpable almost. No matter how much it’s true though, she can’t bring herself to say it, the thought of doing so cracking her heart into pieces, because it wouldn’t be fair.

Telling George she loves him would cross a line that would only make their unspoken arrangement more complicated, but it’s sits their on her tongue threatening to burst out with every touch, every squeeze of her hips, of his finger tips on the nape of her neck as he pulls her closer and the feel of their lips pressed together.

...

He’s perfected the act of pretending not to notice that she’s pulling away to leave again, of acting as though he can’t hear the American twang in her voice sometimes, a reminder that in a true reality, she live miles across the world. 

They spent their time wrapped in their own cocoon, hidden from the world of those who don’t understand that a week of love is enough to make up for a year of silence, of frost covered gardens and wilted wild flowers.

He tells himself over and over that it’s enough, but as the days go on, the unspoken words are louder than the others. Affectionate conversations spoken into hushed silences in his bedroom begin to fill with holes where the truth should lie. The truth that in a few short days she’ll have to leave.

It comes just over a week after her arrival, and in her usual fashion, she slips from the covers in the early morning, grimacing as her top toes footsteps are annunciated by creaky floorboards just as she’s trying to sneak away.

She fixes him one last glance as she stands in the door way ready to leave, an aching longing in his bones just to crawl back into bed again, to live the rest of her life with him here in this apartment.

However, an adult life of work calls for her in the states, and has her reluctantly turning her back on George, sleeping soundly, oblivious to her departure as she creeps down the hall.

She’s flinging her shoes on when Fred appears from the other rend of the narrow corridor leading the the front door, arms folded across his chest with a frown. She stills from her ministrations, gulping at the angry look he’s giving her.

“You’re away again.”

It’s not a question, but a painful truth to which she can only nod and drop her eyes guiltily. Fred sighs loudly, shaking his head in disapproval.

“I’m sorry.” She exhales. “I don’t like leaving.”

“Why do you?”

“I have work, Freddie.” She sighs. “You know how hard i worked for this job and I can’t lose it-“

“But you’re quite happy to lose him.”

She flinches, biting her lip to avoid tears. Fred’s always disapproved, ever since she announced her job plans all those years back at Hogwarts. He could see the thought of losing her breaking his brother’s hearts, but he could also see it just as obviously on her own face every time their eyes met.

“That’s what’s going to happen though.” He continues. “He’s going to get fed up of the week long visits and shitty letters.”

“It’s a demanding job-“

“it’s a great job, (Y/N).” He assured sadly. “We’re both very proud of you for it and you had to give up so much to get it, but you were supposed to give up George... it would be less painful for both of you to give him up.”

“I can’t give him up.” She informs guiltily. “It’s selfish and hurts to leave but i can’t give him up.”

“You have to.” Fred informs. “You don’t see how he gets jittery every time an owl taps the window incase it’s you, or how, after you’re gone, it takes days for him to deal with the fact you’ve left again.”

She doesn’t realise she’s crying until he’s crossing the space between them pull her into his chest. He then a soothing hand down her back despite his anger and exhales a sigh as she begins to cry.

“I love him, Fred.”

“I know.”

“I’ve never loved anything as much as i love him.” She elaborates, though muffled my Fred’s shirt. “Leaving him hurts every time, but it would hurt more to say goodbye for good.”

“You need to make a decision.” Fred explains, pulling back to fix her a more sympathetic look. “If you love him as much as you say you do, you have to leave and stop coming back.”

Her breath catches with a chocked gasp, she blinks up at him, expelling fat tears that roll down her cheeks and his the wooden floor.

“You can’t keep stringing him out the way you are.” He says. “Because the more you leave the worse it gets.”

 It makes sense, it makes so much sense it hurts. She’s been clinging to him like the last frost of winter on newly forming buds. She’s holding him back selfishly from the chance of love with another, love with someone less complicated. She needs to let him go, she’s known it for so long but as she goes to explain it to Fred, it catches on her throat and a fresh set of tears fall from her eyes.

“Tell him I’m sorry.” She pleads. “Tell him that i love him.”

“Okay.” Fred nods. “I will.”

“Thank you...” She whispers shakily.

“I know.” He assures.

She nods, turning in a sort of daze to sort her shoes. She’s doesn’t offer Fred another hug, knowing it will only drag out the pain. Instead she opens the door of their flat and pauses in the doorway.

“Bye, Fred.” She says finally. “I-“

“I know you didn’t mean to hurt him.” Fred reassures. “Life got complicated after Hogwarts.”

“That’s one way of saying it.” She sniffles.

“He loves you too.”

She can only nod again, taking a deep breath as she steps from the apartment. Fred watched her go, heart pounding from what he’s just done, the inevitable the couple has been putting off until now.

He’s shutting the door when he hears footsteps behind him, turning to George, store triedly with a knowing look in his eyes.

“She’s gone.”

“I don’t think she’s coming back.” Fred admits. “I’m sorry, George.”

George shakes his head, shoving his hands into his pockets and holding his shoulders high to come across as unbothered as his brother comes toward him.

“She said she’s sorry.” Fred continues. “And that she loves you.”

Clapping a hand in his brother’s shoulder, Fred passed by him to put the kettle on for a warm drink. George stands crestfallen in the hallway staring at the shut door she’s just left.

She comes like spring, happy colours and bright days, but she leaves like summer, a threatened departure that goes on for ever until suddenly the dark is creeping in earlier and the bitter cold settles deep in his bones.

He’ll miss her like the heat of the sun on a cold autumn evening, he always does, but where there was always the anticipation of spring to come, there is only the dread of long cold nights alone.

[missdawnandherdusk]

That Would Be Enough

Hufflepuff!Reader X Draco

Look at where you are

Look at where you started

The fact that you're alive is a miracle

Just stay alive, that would be enough

Chapter 1     Chapter 2    Chapter 3     Chapter 4     

Chapter 5     Chapter 6    Chapter 7    Chapter 8    

Chapter 9     Chapter 10

Summary: Dumbledore is dead and the pieces start to fall apart or in to place...

A/n: Okay guys, this is a great chapter because you get to look into the past and into the future and also you get to see the loose ends start to tie themselves... who’s ready for this to end soon? Not me, but at least I’m figuring out how I want to end it. Also, my postings will be a bit more sporadic because I’m in college and have a job and so writing, though still fun takes energy that I rarely possess...

I stood and Draco was beside me. I looked to him frantically, wondering what was next. What would be next for the two of us?

There was hardly a moment to think for ourselves because beside us, Snape apparated into the foyer, causing my to jump in panic, into Draco’s arms. The professor seemed to take the sight of the two of us in, and something soft and sad was in his eyes before he recovered.

“Are you to unharmed?” He asked curtly. We nodded mutely.

Then the thought ran through my mind, or perhaps I had finally allowed myself to think it.

The man in front of us was a murderer.

The man in front of us saved Draco’s innocence. Something that I couldn’t even do.

My mind begged the question: was Snape good? All I could find were grey answers.

“Is it done?” Narcissa’s voice caught all of our attention.

“Yes,” Snape retorted. “And I expect the Dark Lord to be here any moment, so if you’d like to flee Miss Y/n, now would be the time,”

“I’m not running,” I declared defiantly—foolishly.

A loud crack sounded through the large Manor, and the air grew cold and foreboding. Draco registered what was occurring before I did. He protectively pushed me behind him as many more Death Eaters appeared around us until black flooded the green marble floors. They were all shouting in victory. They were all laughing and grinning. Even behind their masks, it wasn’t hard to understand their pure joy about the death of Dumbledore.

My fingers gripped Draco’s cloak as I went numb, by choice or perhaps not. My mind shut down and had gone to autopilot. One look in Draco’s eyes and I knew that he had as well. His hand still found mine, however. That was one thing, even numb, that would never change. Narcissa came behind me, holding my shoulders—comfortingly or defensively, I wasn’t sure.

One thing broke Draco’s perfect mask and made Narcissa gasp in terror. The sight of Lucius. I could barely make out a clear image of his father, only the long silver blond hair that I knew well. On the cold ground, Lucius looked desperately to something—someone.

The Dark Lord.

I could not mistake this being for anyone else. The creature that haunted my dreams and plagued my reality. Not meters from me. His cruelty revealed everything.

I had never seen the Dark Lord happy, but a gruesome smile distorted his ghastly face. My grip on Draco’s hand was so tight that my nails dung into his skin. If I had control, I would have lessened the pressure, but the control no longer belonged to me. Instead it belonged to the beast in long dark robes with blood red eyes.

Words left his lips, but I had no power to listen. It wasn’t until other people acted upon me that I had any reaction to the events around me.

Draco held firmly to my arm and Narcissa to my shoulders, refusing to let me go. To let me be pulled into the circle of Death Eaters next to Lucius.

“Ah, ah,” The Dark Lord refuted gently. “Come, bring the girl,”

Narcissa’s hands left regretfully and Draco met my eyes, terrified before he let me go too.

I was shoved into the middle of the circle of Death Eaters, wand gripped tightly in my hand. Before me, I could finally see Lucius—looking more ghostly than I had ever seen him, frail and defenseless. A storm of emotions overwhelmed me. Anger overpowered the others. He had hurt so many of the ones I loved. Not fifteen years ago did he kill me father in the same room.

Maybe I’d have the pleasure of vengeance after all.

“A gift for you my dear,” Voldemort purred, as if to read my thoughts. “I heard you were marvelous in using the Cruciatus Curse on Precious Potter, and I wonder if you’d like to display you skills again?”

My eyes flashed from hallow grey eyes to vivid red ones.

“You want me to...” my voice wavered. My anger fizzled out.

“Well of course, you did aid dear Draco in his mission, and were quite marvelous, I thought it might only be fitting to reward you,” His false kindness eerily swept through me, leaving me in uncertain ground. “Just think of all of the hurt Lucius has caused you. He murdered your father, abused the one you love for years and still he kneels there on the ground loathing you,”

In my mind I saw the death of my father again. The fruitless pleas that fell from his lips. The bright green flash that ended his life.

Tears stung my eyes as my gaze fell upon Lucius again.

Then I saw a shade of Draco in those troubled grey eyes: The night of the third trial and the absolute dread in Draco’s eyes. The night of the ball as this man spoke coldly to him. The breakdown Draco had not a month later. The need for healing potions to be on hand. All because of the man before me.

My lip quivered as the tears fell silently. But then my memories shifted.

To Draco chasing after me at the ball. Or the day we first kissed that summer. Seeing him on the train. The day he defended me from Umbridge. Every smile and every tear. The nights when he broke and the days when he was put back together.

That was so much more valuable than my hatred for Lucius.

Then my eyes met Narcissa’s. They were frozen in shock and fear. I could see the desperate pleas in them to spare her husband’s life. A woman who went through two wars, desperate to keep her family together. Losing one sister to insanity and another to disownment. Losing a husband to hatred and a son to darkness. A woman who welcomed me with opened arms because she believed that I could pull her family back together, even for a little while. She had faith in me. In the kindness and goodness in me.

That was so much more valuable than my hatred for Lucius.

“Crucio,” I whispered, the spell taking no effect on the man before me.

“Like you mean it my dear!” The Dark Lord encouraged. “Let out all of your hatred and anger! Every wrongdoing, every lie, every injustice!”

“Crucio!” I called out louder and still there was little effect. The circle of Death Eaters around me snickered, mocking me.

“She has had a long day My Lord,” Snape spoke up. “Perhaps she will be better suited in the morning after a night’s rest,”

Voldemort’s blood red eyes peered at me, but I was at peace. There was no thought for him to have. My mind was plate glass. A reflection for him to gaze upon.

“Perhaps,” The Dark Lord echoed. “Take her out of my sight,”

Again, I was grabbed and thrown hastily out of the circle and into not Draco’s arms, but Narcissa’s. There were tears in her eyes and a kind smile on her face as she led me upstairs to Draco and my shared room.

“Thank you,” She wrapped me up tightly in a hug. “That was a kindness I didn’t deserve,”

“My love for you and Draco outshines any malice I have towards Lucius,” I whispered. “You’re my family, and family sticks together,”

She pressed a kiss to my forehead and cradled me close. Tears fell down her face as soft sobs wracked her frame. There was a knock on the door causing us both to jump. Narcissa wiped her eyes quickly and composed herself opening the door only to meet Snape.

“They’ve gone, he requires medical attention,” His voice was soft and curt.

Without hesitation, I rushed to Draco’s bathroom grabbing three vials: healing, thoughts, and anxiety. I brushed past Snape and Narcissa, heading down the stairs to where Draco was cradling his father, unshed tears in his eyes.

“Here,” I knelt beside him, uncorking the first vial.

Draco and I worked like a well-oiled machine as the potions took their affect onto his father. Some color returned to his deathly face. Snape and Narcissa both had their wands drawn, casting healing and protection spells of their own. Lucius’ breathing became steady and no longer did he look like a corpse. Though he looked aged, he looked human.

“Thank you,” Narcissa murmured, stroking Lucius’ hair from his face. “You two get to bed,” she ordered softly.

“Y/n,” Snape called before I ascended the stairs. “The Dark Lord will be waiting for you to torture Lucius. He will not let you fail in this attempt.”

“I... I can’t do it. I never wanted to do it in the first place to Harry,” I confessed, my voice rasping.

“You must.” Snape rose. “For the sake of your life and for Draco’s. This is a different game now.”

I nodded and took Draco’s hand, rushing up the stairs and into the safety of our room. Like his mother had, Draco wrapped me up into his arms and only then did I realize I was shaking rather violently. I didn’t feel panicked, but my body said otherwise.

“Thank you,” He pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “You were kind in ways that I never could have been,” It seemed that the only even that either of us could process at the moment had been the past few minutes.

“I couldn’t do it. Not when I looked in his eyes and saw you,” I whispered into his shoulder.

“What are you going to do?” He asked. “You... the Dark Lord isn’t going to...”

“I know,” I sighed. “I don’t know what to do. But I won’t cast another Unforgivable.”

“Maybe it’s time for you to leave,” his words held a softness as he cupped my face. “To keep you safe.”

“I can’t leave you here, Draco,” I refuted. “I won’t go. I have to show them I won’t be broken. I won’t let hatred win,”

“Do you understand how dangerous this is?” His words became curt. “You could be killed for showing any disloyalty.”

“I know, I know,” I dismayed. “But I won’t run. I won’t be a coward... and I have nowhere to go...” There was nowhere that I could go that I knew wouldn’t be a target or a suspect for hiding me.

Draco huffed and ran a hand through his hair anxiously.

“Okay,” He gave in. “We should get to bed,”

“Dray,” I groaned. “This is my path as much as it’s yours. Please don’t push me away.” 

“I’m just trying to keep you alive,”

“My life isn’t my own anymore. I’ll willingly die for the good,” As soon as the words left my mouth my thoughts flashed to my father. “That’s why he did it.” I marveled mostly to myself. “That’s why my father wasn’t afraid of death,”

Draco stroked my cheek softly, the warmth in his grey eyes proving that Lucius would never be the man that Draco was.

Silence fell over us. Our minds, in sync, went mute. The phantoms of last summer guided us tonight. The warm silky water of a bath in his porcelain tub. The comforting scents of florals and memories. A trail of cloaks, robes, and clothes followed us to the bathroom and into the tub. My locket laid beside his family ring on the marble counter. His hands draped the water over my chilled skin, massaging away the tension in my muscles.

A year ago, there had been one mark on the two of us, now it seemed that there was no end to where our damage and scars were. And yet I didn’t feel shattered. I didn’t feel broken. Silent streams of tears trailed down our cheeks. They weren’t just of fear and anger, but perhaps also of relief and hope. What we dreaded had been done, now there were pieces to pick up. There was something to do. It wasn’t the brightest direction, but it was direction.

The shine of the moonlight reflected off of Draco’s eyes as we laid together in the comfort of clean cotton sheets. My fingers carded through the silver gossamer of his hair. I slipped into slumber in the comfort of the storms of his grey eyes.

My dreams were vividly bizarre. Trails of what ifs. Of almosts. Of what could have been.

A bright green flash coming from Draco’s wand. Coming from my wand. Draco dead in my arms. The last glimpses of life as I laid in Draco’s arms. Harry staring us both down, defending Dumbledore. Pinnae flying away in the night to a small home in the Grecian countryside and never looking back. Pinnae falling, falling, falling, flightless. Down from the Astronomy tower and to the cold unforgiving ground below.

A soft unintelligible mumble pulled me away from the free fall down. I was steadied. I was wrapped in comfort. I was draped in soft blankets and warm arms.

“Just a dream,” Draco slurred sleepily, his eyes not opening. “You’re okay,”

I hummed a response and curled back onto his chest, settling back into sleep.

___________________________

“He’s not going to forget her,” Severus huffed, pacing the room. “Y/n will have to prove herself,”

“I know,” Narcissa sighed, sitting beside her husband.

Lucius had not yet woken since he had been healed, and though Narcissa knew that he was not on the verge of death any longer, his health was still failing.

“She’s just a child,” Narcissa insisted hopelessly. “She has no business in all of this,”

“She doesn’t have a choice anymore Narcissa!” Severus declared. “She chose this path. She chose to stand beside Draco, and this is where that road leads!”

Silent tears fell down her cheeks, lost in a memory.

~~

“It’s not safe for you Cissa,” Lucius’ voice was quiet and urgent. “Go now, before it’s too late,” 

“I’m not leaving you,” Her stubbornness might kill her one day, but she wasn’t giving up on him.

“The Dark Lord will kill you, and I can’t lose you my darling,” Lucius stroked her cheek softly, “You’re too important,”

“Then you know why I must stay,” She closed her eyes leaning into his touch. 

“Please,” Lucius begged. “If not for your life, then for Draco’s. He’s just a babe.” 

“This family will stay together,” Tears stung her eyes. “He needs his father as much as he needs his mother,”

“You’re not going to like who his father becomes,” The whisper was barely heard. “Please Cissa,”

She shook her head, tears running down her cheeks and into his hands. 

~~

“She knows that,” Narcissa answered softly. “More than anything she knows the consequences of her choice.”

“And how can you be so sure?” Severus demanded.

“Because she was me,” Her fingers trailed down Lucius’ face gently. “I never thought I’d have to live through another war—to walk through another one with him,” She paused and turned to Severus. “But Y/n knows what she’s doing.”

“Then why are you so adamant on protecting her?” He demanded.

“For the same reason you are,” It could have been an accusation, but it wasn’t. It was sad and soft. Hopeless in a way.

“We can’t protect her in a desperate chance to change the past, Narcissa,” It was just as hopeless. 

“But we can try, can’t we?”

Lucius’ hand was ice cold in hers. His body was still riddled with Dark Magic and his time in Azkaban had not aided it one bit. There used to be an inkling of warmth in his skin, but now, it had vanished.

“You’re welcome to stay,” She offered. “The invitation is always open,”

A quiet beat passed.

“I will.” Severus answered. “He’ll need more looking after. And so will she,” 

“She will make it Severus,” Narcissa pressed as he went to exit the room. 

“That’s what he said about Lily,”

In the morning, Narcissa found you and Draco curled up together in bed, still sound asleep though the hour was becoming closer to afternoon than morning. She didn’t dare to rouse you two. If you could manage to sleep, she’d let you.

When you were finally awake and presentable, both eating in the kitchen, Narcissa could see the determination and uncertainty in your eyes as well as the familiar unease in Draco’s. You two were having the same disagreement that she and Lucius had. Draco no doubt wanted you to hide away, to be safe. And Narcissa knew that leaving was the last thing that you were going to do.

“When do you think he’ll be back?” Your voice was small as you cradled your mug in your hands.

“It’s hard to say,” Severus answered. “Time doesn’t work the same for the Dark Lord. It could be hours; it could be days.”

You nodded and leaned against Draco. It made her heart soar when she watched the two of you together. Draco’s comforting and protective nature that came out for you. And the trust you had in her son. It made Narcissa believe that she might have done something right after all these years to see her son this contented.

“Come,” Narcissa smiled softly, offering her hand to you. “You should learn how to heal Dark Magic,”

Wide-eyed, you followed Narcissa up the stairs, Draco shadowing you both, and into her bedroom where Lucius was still sleeping. Leading you beside the bed, Narcissa drew her wand.

“The easiest is medicari,” She instructed. “It will heal any physical wounds. The deeper the wound the more times you should repeat the spell,” You two nodded softly.

“To cleanse dark magic from the bloodstream or body—expurgatio” Narcissa turned to Lucius and brushed a stray lock of hair from his face as she cast the spell. Under her wand tip drew forth an inky blackness from his chest.

“A lighting charm, my dear,” Narcissa instructed.

You drew your wand and cast the charm, drawing it near to the darkness at the tip of her own wand.

“Dark Magic, after drawn from the body and exposed to light—” you watched as the ink vanished. “—has nothing it can do but run and hide,”

Draco’s face held an air of thought as you remained quiet in thought for a moment. Narcissa could see that you were trying to form your words in such a manner that they made sense, and that they didn’t draw you into a breakdown. Draco’s hand slipped into yours. Your thumb gently traced the scar that ran along the back of his hand.

“Snape...” You began, “He—he used a spell. It sounded like song... when he was healing Draco,”

“The Song of The Lost Soul, yes.” Narcissa sighed softly. “It is not an easy feat to cast such a spell. Whereas many spells are one or a few words, The Song of The Lost Souls requires perfect cadence and pronunciation to be of any aid. If not, it is rendered useless.”

“But if it works?” You asked, curious, hope in your eyes and voice. “It’s one of the most powerful healing spells known to wizards.”

“I want to learn it,” Your determination didn’t surprise Narcissa in the slightest. A smile graced her face at the sight of your eagerness.

“In due time, my dear. For now, why don’t we begin with expurgatio,”

Slowly but surely, with each time you cast the Cleansing spell, your wand gripped more and more of the dark magic that plagued Lucius blood stream. Draco would touch a Lighting charm to the Dark Magic, and it would flee every time. After a while you paused and went quiet.

“I don’t want to have to hurt him,” the confession was soft from your lips. “But if I don’t...” Your eyes met Draco’s a hopeless expression on your face.

“I understand, my love,” Narcissa comforted. “I’ve walked in your shoes before. I know the sacrifices and choices you must face.” She took your hand and smiled softly. “You have a kind soul. A strong soul.” With a soft breath in she continued. “I taught you these spells, not only to aid you in your oncoming battles in this war, but also to let you know that whatever is done, may be undone.”

You processed the words, your eyes growing in realization. “You mean... you want me to...”

“Mother,” Draco’s brows furrowed, surprised himself.

“I don’t will it, no.” She confessed. “But I understand why it must be done. Stars above know the things I was forced to do to gain the respect I have among the Death Eaters...” She looked down at Lucius, “Though I do not think you are aiming for their respect nor should you, I do believe that it will be a comfort to know you won’t be killed.”

“I... I don’t even know if I can,” Your voice broke as your gaze dropped to Draco’s hand in yours. “All I see when I look at him, is you two... and I can’t... I can’t imagine hurting either of you.”

“That is not what the Cruciatus Curse entails, Miss Y/n,” Severus spoke, spooking you a bit as you jumped a bit and Draco’s arm wrapped around you protectively on reflex.

Severus stood from the armchair accompanying the window and neared the bed.

“The Cruciatus Curse was originally meant as a way for a wizard or witch to alleviate all of their anger and frustrations. It was a spell directed at the stars, never at a soul, never at another man. Of course, it became distorted over the year unto what it is now, but I digress,” The tone was familiar to Narcissa, and it seemed to you two as well—a formal teaching tone.

“So... I don’t... I don’t have to hate the person I use the Curse on?” You squeaked, your eyebrows drown in confusion and revelation.

“Not particularly, though it does help.” Severus took a tight breath in. 

“But... in the bathroom... I used it on Harry,”

“And you were scared and angry,” Narcissa comfortingly placed a hand over yours. “All of your frustrations and fears that had been growing over those months were let out on Harry. Not that you loathed him specifically, but he was on the receiving end of your fury.”

____________________________

“So, I can cast the Curse with no intention of wanting to harm the person I’m casting it on?” Disbelief colored my tone. “How is that in any way safe? Or fair?”

“It’s not my dear,” Narcissa replied. “Which is the reason the ancients deemed it Unforgivable.”

“And I think you’ve seen that first-hand,” Snape remarked. “Though he is quite loathsome at times, I don’t truly believe that you hate Potter,”

“Debatable,” I muttered, causing Draco to chuckle beside me.

“You don’t,” Draco murmured in my ear. “Because I know you. You’re too kind,”

“He probably hates me,” My voice was weak and small. “You should have seen his face...” Worrying my lip, Draco pulled me in closer.

“Potter is very hot headed and impulsive,” Snape tried to comfort. “And he has no authority over you either,”

“But he’s the chosen one,” I protested, miserable. “Everyone cares about his opinion and what he thinks,”

“I think you’d find a few flaws in that statement,” A smile barely touched Snape’s lips. “You were quite the leader yourself in school. The students were just as willing to follow you as they were Potter,”

“Me?” I squeaked, my mind reeling. “But I’m just me. I’m not special. I’m not the chosen one. I’m just a bloody Hufflepuff for Merlin’s sake!”

“And that’s what everyone adores about you,” Draco interjected softly. “Though I’d like to go on record saying you’re extraordinarily special,” A smile played at his lips. “But things aren’t handed to you like they are Potter. You never had the advantage, and when you did, you used it to rescue the underdog,”

“Draco is right, the Slytherins are quite fond of you,” Snape’s eyes narrowed. “Sometimes I wonder why you weren’t one,”

“Anything’s better than Slytherin,” I muttered without thinking.

Draco laughed beside me, pressing a kiss to my temple. “There’s my Y/n,” He murmured softly. “I was getting a little worried there,”

The day was spent nursing Lucius back to health as best that Draco and I could. My trial of the Unforgivable forgotten for the moment. And I prayed that it would never come. 

When Lucius’ cold grey eyes opened and landed on me, fear gripped my heart. But it was in vain. His hand reached out and covered mine as he nodded once, before closing his eyes once more in rest. Amity fell between us, knowing that there was forgiveness somewhere in my heart for him. Maybe it was a forgiveness that mirrored in Draco’s eyes as I sought him for reassurance.

“Happy birthday, love,” I whispered softly as the hour passed midnight as the two of us stared up at the stars.

“Don’t remind me,” He grumbled, causing me to laugh softly.

“And why not?” I mused, raising an eyebrow at him. “It’s not every day that you turn seventeen,”

“But you really wanna talk about it now?” He dismayed. “It’s not worth celebrating,”

“Look around Draco,” I pressed. “Look at how lucky we are to be alive right now,” Tears stung my eyes as I took his hand holding it tightly. “It’s more than enough to celebrate,”

He hung his head, closing his eyes, his shoulders rising with the deep breath that he took. Laying my head on his shoulder, I pressed to his side.

“It is enough,” He whispered softly, pulling me into his arms. “It’s more than enough,” His weak smile mirrored mine.

Draco’s hands came up and cupped my face softly, pulling me in for a calming kiss, sealing that us being alive was enough. That I was enough. That he was enough. That the quiet night with the fireflies and the stars watching over us was enough.

A letter came for me the next day from Prof—Lupin requesting me at the next Order meeting being held at Fleur and Bill’s cottage on the seaside not far from the Manor that night. The four of us debated whether or not it would be safe for me to go alone, knowing that I would be the only one allowed. And though Draco was hesitant, he urged me to go. A sadness lingered in Snape’s eyes at well, but he agreed. It was only Narcissa who had a qualm.

“They can track her Apparition,” She reasoned gently. “We need to keep the Order safe...” Her eyes met Snape’s, and something passed between them.

“I’ll fly,” I offered off hand. “No one will know that it’s me, and if they think I’m flying, then no one will be able to find me,”

“I’m not sure I follow,” Snape’s monotone voice seemed uninterested, but I could see that the questions burning behind his eyes.

“And that’s how it’ll have to be,” Draco took my hand, “Are you sure you can make the trip on your own?”

“You’re not coming with me, then we’ll be found,” I refuted the hope in his eyes. “I’ll have to go alone,”

And what Snape didn’t see was a white and bronze barn owl taking off toward the sunset, on her way to an Order meeting.

...............

“Lupin?” I gasped out, steadying myself from my transformation.

“Sirius said that you were able to do that... didn’t give much away thought,” Lupin mentioned offhand, almost talking to himself. “What took you so long?”

“Long flight,” I muttered, leaning against the door jamb of the little house. “They can track Apparition. At least mine, I guess.”

“Really?” He seemed surprised.

I nodded and fidgeted with my sweater. “They all hate me, don’t they?”

“It’s quite divided actually,” A smile ghosted at his lips. “Those of us who know you, we don’t, but those who got the story from Harry on the other hand...”

I groaned in defeat and rubbed my face. Then I held my head high and nodded. 

“Alright,” I concluded, “I’m not afraid to face the consequences of my actions.” 

Lupin smiled warmly. “I can see why Sirius liked you.”

“You miss him,”

“Yes,” He paused then continued. “But there is more to life. I’m sure you understand that,”

“Yeah,” I whispered. “Do you think he would have been proud of me? My dad?” I was almost too afraid to ask.

“More than you could ever know,” Lupin appeased. “In fact, that’s why a lot of us are so divided about what to do with you, because your father was in the same situation with your mother,”

“My mother wasn’t a Death Eater,” I muttered. “That complicates things doesn’t it?”

Lupin stared at me like I had two heads. “Y/n, your mother is a Death Eater. Or she was in the first war.”

I froze. My eyes going wide. There must have been true panic or horror on my face because Lupin neared me, placing his hands on my shoulders.

“Y/n, breathe,” Lupin instructed. “I thought you knew,” A soft shake of my head declined his statement.

“Well, that changes things a bit...” Lupin muttered. “We need to talk to Moody,”

“Will you—give me a minute...” I squeaked out, sinking into a kitchen chair. I hung my head in my hands, wishing nothing more to find comfort in Draco’s arms. He would know what to do. He would know what to say.

“What is she doing here?” A snarled voice asked.

Lupin’s arm shot out, holding me back from going off on Harry. Or maybe he was protecting me from Harry. I didn’t know. I wasn’t paying attention. I was too shellshocked.

“She is a part of the Order,” Lupin defended sternly. “She has a rightful place here,”

“So, we’re going to ignore the fact that she aided the murder of Dumbledore!?” Harry shouted.

Silence fell. 

“No,” I whispered softly. “I helped kill Dumbledore,” My voice was soft and broken and obviously not what Harry was expecting. “I helped kill Dumbledore. I’m in love with a Death Eater. I’m the daughter of a Death Eater. I’m the daughter of a member of the Order of the Phoenix. I’m the child of a Slytherin and a Hufflepuff. My father’s dead and my mother’s gone.”

I spoke mainly to myself, but loud enough for everyone else to hear. “And I know that,” My eyes met Harry’s. “So, what are you going to do about it? Berate me? Scream how I don’t belong here? How massively fucked up my life is? Is that what you’re here to tell me?” My voice stayed soft and calm. “Because believe me, I already know,”

My words sapped all of the anger from Harry and caught the attention of the other members of the Order as they filed into the small kitchen. “It’s not about what I am, or where I come from, or who my parents are. It’s what I’m going to do from here on out and what I’ve been trying to do all along.” Again, I met stubborn green eyes. “I’m going to save Draco Malfoy. I’m going to fight for good. And I’m not going to let anyone, or anything stop me,”

There was something I realized about Harry in that moment where we differed immensely. He had no restraint and he never hesitated. He was hot headed and made rash decisions. He took everything that was offered to him and then some. The game he plays he takes and raises stakes without anyone else’s consent. He had an endless uphill just as I did. He had something to prove and almost nothing to lose.

I had everything to lose. Everything that I fought to keep. Everything that I fought to have. If he could thrive in the middle of the struggle, then I’d wait for my time to thrive.

I was willing to wait for it. 

________________________________

“You think I don’t know what I’m doing!?” He roared, near tears. Remus placed a hand on his shoulder and Sirius held James back. “What would you do for Lily, Potter?” He straightened, shaking off Remus.

“My wife isn’t on the wrong side of the war!” James spat.

“It’s easy to love those who love you isn’t it? It’s easy to love the good, isn’t it Potter!?” The words held ice shards. “You think you’d understand. You’re a father as much as I am in this hell, you think I don’t want what’s best for my family!? What will keep them alive!?”

“Boys!” McGonagall shouted reprimanding them. “You two are acting like children. We are on the same side of the war here and unless we work together, we’re not going to survive.” Her stern look silenced them both.

“Walt,” Alice reached out as he went to leave, shifting a small bundle of sleeping blankets in her arms, “Please, we do want you here,” Frank came up behind her, reaching out for him.

“She’s right, Walt.” Frank affirmed. “You deserve your place here with the rest of us,”

“Thank you,” He nodded. “But I need to get home to Elizabeth and hope Y/n hasn’t been giving her too much trouble,” The fire had left from his voice and weariness remained.

The Longbottom’s nodded as he set out into the night, apperating back home. The small farmhouse in the outskirts of town welcomed him home more than any consoling word from the Order ever could. He knew that the two people he loved more than anything in the world were inside that farmhouse. The two people who never questioned him or denied his loyalty.

“Walt?” Elizabeth’s voice chimed up from the nursery.

“Yes, it’s me,” Maybe he didn’t hide his weariness well enough because a soft concerned look was on her face as she met him in the hallway.

“Maybe her and I should...” Elizabeth trailed off. “You wouldn’t have to...”

“You think I’d walk out on you? On our darling girl?” Walter shook his head and pulled his bride into his arms, tucking her head under his chin. “You two are worth more than a war,”

“I love you,” Her voice was broken as she clung to him, unshed tears in both of their eyes.

The soft cry of a babe broke their moment. Walter neared the crib to see a little pouting face start to snivel.

“Oh, now what is the matter?” He cooed softly gathering the child into his arms. “I’m right here sweetheart,”

Rocking her softly, her cries quieted, and large innocent eyes stared up at him. It was those eyes that made everything that James said, or Sirius muttered worth it. Those deep and trusting eyes that held wonder and love in their naivete.

Elizabeth placed a soft hand on his shoulder, and he turned, for the first time seeing the exhaustion on her face. He knew that no matter how harsh James was or how many times he came home feeling defeated, his love had a harder battle to fight. One that wasn’t built on love, and trust, and goodness. But wickedness, cruelty, and evil. He loathed having to see her bare that burden on her shoulders.

“I’ll put her down for the night,” He whispered softly. “You go on to bed. I’ll be there in a moment,”

Alone with his child in a quiet room on a peaceful night, he began to hum softly. He sang of sunshine and happiness in the midst of grey stormy days. When he looked into those eyes he knew for sure that no amount of Dark Magic would affect her soul that was laid bare in her gaze.

And her eyes went from wonder and awe to peace and slumber. Placed in her crib and warded by protection spells and charms and talisman, he headed to his Elizabeth.

She was combing through her long hair, sitting at the mirror in the bathroom. He came up behind her and rubbed her shoulders softly, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head.

“How are you feeling?” He murmured softly.

“A little drained, but since having Y/n, and because Narcissa has her little Draco now, they seem very adamant to protect the two of us... you should see Severus stand up against him. He knows that Narcissa and I shouldn’t be doing Dark Magic... then Regulus backs him up and...” She went quiet, lost in the memory.

Curled up in bed, an amity fell over the house.

“Narcissa’s little Draco is just a darling,” Elizabeth spoke softly, curled up into his arms in bed. He could smell the florals and spice of her shampoo linger still in her long damp hair. “Such bright blue eyes. Just turned three months today,”

The days were gentle and calm, though fear came at the on every side. Some nights Walter would be left alone with his little girl, sometimes Elizabeth would. It depended on who had a meeting and where it was safe for their baby girl. And despite her kind nature, even barely a year old, there was worry underneath about what would become of her. It was new generation of Dark Magic, and branding. Two babes had been born from a parent with a Dark Mark, only little Y/n grew inside her mother who was riddled with Dark Magic. The other nurtured by a mother loyal to family.

The tiny babe wrapped in a soft pink knitted blanket had been cradled in Walter’s arms as the next Order meeting went on. Not that he paid much attention. His attention was divided between the warmth his darling offered, rocking her so that she stayed quiet, and then he gave half a mind to Dumbledore speaking about the Dark Lord. And in focusing on his babe, his mind wandered back to the innocence of his own childhood, of meeting his beloved Elizabeth.

~~

She was draped in flowing green, looking as if she belonged in some high-end party, not a dance for grade school. It made his heart skip a beat when his eyes caught hers. Those eyes that held mystery and passion that he adored. They held secret study sessions in the library and elusive nights in the Astronomy Tower, desperate to keep their love a secret from their Houses and the other students.

“Go and talk to her,” Lily nudged his arm.

“You know why I can’t,” Walt sighed. “She’s a Slytherin,”

“Not all Slytherins are so bad...” Lily argued softly. “There’s hope for her too. For both of you,” 

“You really think?” There was hope in his voice.

“Trust me,” Lily smiled, placing a hand on his shoulder. “She’ll love you being you.” Her eyes drifted to the crowd, finding a face that meant nothing to him but everything to her. “Go before you miss your chance. You’ve waited for her long enough,”

He heeded her words and made his way across the grand hall that was dressed for the holidays. She was standing with the Black sisters, two of which moved from his way, and one blocked him.

“What’s an ickle Hufflepuff doing here?” Bellatrix cackled. “You’re not wanted little badger,”

“Bellatrix,” Walter greeted politely. “I’m not here to entertain you, but rather ask for Miss Elizabeth to dance,”

The sisters turned to their honorary sister of House. Her cheeks flushed pink, but there was hope and joy shown in her eyes as she took his outstretched hand.

“Are you sure about this?” She whispered under her breath as he led to her to the dance floor.

“I’ve waited too long to show the rest of the world that I love you,” He affirmed, holding her close as the next waltz began.

Though he knew all eyes were on him and his love, he paid them no mind. Instead he focused on the scent of perfume that was mirrored in Amortentia. He focused on the sound of her pretty laugh and the way she threw her head back in joy. And more than anything he focused on those eyes that held his entire world.

~~

“How long have you known?” Walter asked softly, stroking Elizabeth’s cheek.

“About a month,” She smiled, her hand cradling her stomach.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I would have come home,” There were tears in his eyes.

“I wrote to Dumbledore, but I know you my love, you’ll fight until this war is over,” Tear fell down her cheeks softly. “I’m not sorry,”

“Neither am I,” Walter let out a hopeless laugh as his tears fell, holding his bride close. “How are we supposed to raise a child—”

“Just stay alive, that would be enough,” Elizabeth wrapped her arms around him. “And if this child has a fraction of your smile... of your heart... that would be enough,”

“If they had a fragment of your mind... look out world,” Walter smiled, pressing his lips to her forehead. “That would be enough,”

~~

“Walter?” Frank drew him from his thoughts, from the eyes of his baby girl. Alice mirrored his stance, a smaller bundle of blankets cradled in her arms.

“Will you be our Secret Keeper?” Frank asked with a solemn tone. We need to hide, we need to keep Neville safe,”

Walter nodded; determination mirrored in both father’s eyes. 

________________________

~

My Dearest Andromeda,

I hope that this letter finds you well, and I hope that you will give me the time to read it. I have much to tell you and much to ask that I know I am not allowed nor owed, but I beg of you anyway.

I know that your daughter is now married to Remus Lupin, and to which I congratulate the union. I know that Lupin will be good to her. But that is not why I have written.

My Draco and Y/n are now in very deep with the Death Eaters and I fear for them as I feared for our lives through the first war. And perhaps you understand because you managed to erase yourself from our family and flourished regardless. And for that I apologize and esteem you for.

You remember as well as I do how much our Elizabeth loved Walter, and now by some miracle, their child has been placed in my care after Elizabeth carried out her orders from the Dark Lord to keep her Y/n safe from him. She writes to me even still, asking about her child and is comforted by my words of her success and prosperity, knowing that she can never come back to her daughter while the Dark Lord is alive.

Which is why I beg of you to offer a place for dear Y/n to come and stay. I have offered my home, but the Dark Lord has demanded that the Manor be the base for his Death Eaters, and I cannot allow Y/n to be drawn under such an influence. She is good and I know it in my heart, and you can see it in her eyes, but I fear greatly as to what should occur if the Dark Lord manipulates her any further. She is powerful and has potential and power for great good and evil.

Please dear Andromeda, for the sake of Walter and Elizabeth and the second chance that they both gave the three of us. For their child who was marked from birth as was mine.

Your sister,

Cissy

~ 

______________________________ 

~

Narcissa,

Remus and Nymphadora have told me much about Y/n and the fire she possess in her heart just as her parents did. I have fallen in love with a girl I have not met yet and still I feel as if I am responsible for her as I am for my own Nymphadora.

With a heavy heart I mourn the years lost between us, but I can rejoice that the legacy of Walter and Elizabeth change and alter your heart even still. My heart goes out to Elizabeth as it goes to her daughter, as it goes to you and your son.

She is welcome in my home while school is not in season for her. She will be safe and protected here from the Dark Lord and his claws. I have no doubt that Bellatrix is also a reason for fear in your heart as much as the Dark Lord is. I pray that you come to see the light, and though I know there is barely a hope, I pray that for Bellatrix as well.

Send her at first light my dear Narcissa, 

Your sister,

Andy

~

____________________________

“I have another aunt?” Draco asked.

“Yes,” Narcissa sighed softly. “She was disowned by our parents because she was a blood- traitor, much as Sirius Black was.” A quiet moment. “You also have a cousin, Nymphadora Tonks,”

“Tonks is his cousin!?” I gaped. “Hufflepuff, Auror, Metamorphmagus, Tonks?”

���Yes,” Narcissa nodded, a smile playing at her lips. “It seems that you two have quite a bit in common now that I think about it,”

“And...she’ll be safe there?” Draco asked hesitantly, taking my hand.

“She’ll have a home while she isn’t at Hogwarts,” His mother affirmed. “Now that your father is feeling better and the Dark Lord has decided to make the Manor his headquarters. There may also be a chance that she can escape her fate with Lucius...”

“I can’t stay,” I murmured the realization.

“No, I’m afraid not, but not for the main reason you think my dear,” Narcissa consoled, piquing my interest. Draco and I exchanged a glance and turned back to her. “Whether you knew it or not, you and Draco and connected, since you were born,”

“I’m sorry, what?” We both demanded, looking at each other once more.

“It is quite amusing how fate played out, having you two come together like this but... yes. During the first war there were two babes born with parents holding the Dark Mark that survived. One was paternal, one maternal.” She gauged our reaction.

“But...that doesn’t mean anything... does it?” I asked timid.

“No one knew and no one still knows. It simply means that you two were both destined for something beyond the ordinary,”

“If... we were both born marked,” Draco spoke like he would while walking through a complex spell or potion. “And I have the Dark Mark... wouldn’t that mean that she’s marked for it as well? That fate...” He trailed off, his grey eyes holding fear and discomfort.

“I’m fated for the Dark Mark,” I understood what he couldn’t bring himself to say. “And if I stay here...”

“Your fate would be sealed,” Narcissa sighed softly. “Which is why I need you to go to my sister, and stay away so that you might avoid this,”

I nodded and took Draco’s hand in mine

“I love you,” I whispered softly, just for him. “And I’m not afraid. I know who I chose,” 

“As long as you come back to me,” He nodded.

Wrapped up tightly into his arms, I breathed in deeply, the last time I would be comforted by his arms until September. The beginning of the first chapter I had to write on my own until I found my way back to him.

Epilogue:

“Thank you, for your hospitality,” My voice held a soft tone, already missing Draco’s warmth. 

“Of course, my dear,” Andromeda smiled. “Come,”

She showed me to a spare room that I assumed used to be Tonks’ because even cleaned up, I could see the chaos of her style linger still.

And though I thought I’d never make it through a night alone, let alone three months, somehow, they passed. Like the slow ticking of a clock that didn’t bother to mock me. Instead there was something reminiscent about the summer. Of writing letters to Draco and waiting for his to arrive. To be in a small home filled with happy memories and warmth of muggle books and films and music. It left me in tears more than I cared to admit, because it was something that I never thought would be mine again.

Something I didn’t know that I was waiting for, nor longing for.

Something that made three months seems like mere months, not an eternity waiting.

.

Chapter 12

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[certifiedceraunophile]

DISCLAIMER :

SMUT SMUT SMUT and FLUFF. (NSFW)

It’s basically a 5k porn smut-shot about dimples and dick. Mostly dimples but there’s gratuitous dicking too, because of course my brain saw a gif set of Mr. Klaus Forbes flashing his dimples and thought PORN.

ALSO,

Nominated for Best Smut Oneshot in the 2020 KC awards

(I mean I have been called an excellent homoerotic muse so I shoulda seen this coming)

Tags:

D/s undertones,

Dominant Caroline

somewhat bregrudgingly submissive Klaus.

——————————————————————————

TREAT AT MY BEHEST

The conversation was flowing smoothly, a little too smoothly, it truly was a sight to behold,

She doesn't find awkward bumps that the participants uncomfortably had to step over stilling the flow, no problematic cracks people either ignored or tried to tear open with their teeth, no blunt blows to the back off the head, or venom tipped words sharper than the fangs the Mikaelson family sported, Hell, even Kol kept his sexual innuendos count to an all time low of two per sentence, and it wasn’t tedious either, it was sunny honest conversation one that flowed and ebbed in tranquil warmth enveloping all those who took part in it.

But of course, the insufferable bastard she’s been calling her husband for the last handful of decades, and her last love for two centuries now, decides he’ll singlehandedly throw all progress out the backdoor.

Her husband, and his freaking audacity to flash those dimples, in that exact way, throw all progress out the backdoor if she’s being more accurate.

God he’ll be the end of her.

It’s no grand truth, that she’s very very closely acquainted with his dimples, and she means, ‘lick a sweet path from dimple to lip as per her wish’ closely acquainted, those perfect indents on his cheeks, make no mistake, they are hers for the taking,

But she admits, she has her preferences, she’s a bit finicky with her interests,

She’s not too fond of his shit eating ‘Yet again I’ve bested you, my love.’ dimples, or any other variant of that he flashes in the rare case he has the upper hand between the two of them.

She’s quite partial to the one sided dimpling the evil villain smirk has to offer, one she’s privy to during their hunts, or the ‘Ive got one word for you: run.’ smirk he displays before transforming into a walking talking guillotine, those are quite entertaining to watch bloom, and the customary thorough debauching of her body that follows any such murder work out is nothing dismissible.

Now the almost bashful and youthfully eager ones he shows her when he talks about his place in the world as an artist, when for once his hand can create instead of destroy, those are entirely just for her, that sit there pretty on his cheeks in the privacy of his studio, where they continue to relive a thousand different times in a thousand different places including Rome, Paris and Tokyo, that one day, when he thanked her for the first of many things he feels gratitude for, her honesty,

He still remembers it as the day he allowed the truth to be something he didn't particularly like for the first time in a long time, she however still remembers the day by the absolute fishing he did, standing there in his studio as he introduced his passions to her, patiently waiting in silent humility for her to notice these paintings were his and compliment him.

He still doesn't allow this truth to remain, she of course always knows better.

Then again she also loves the shy soft little ones he offers her and only her, the ones he gently picks from the buried bounded depths of his heart and places in her hand with such care, as he sweetly leans into her palm, moist plump lips pressed against her pulse. When he is so beautifully hers that the hybrid gold of his eyes is the sun and when directed at her is as warm and sweet as golden honey. Or when he nuzzles his nose into the curve of her neck, the swell of her breast, half laying on top of her, when he gathers her close pauses and then closer, as if he finds the flesh separating them offending, as though his very existence is meant to directly infect her soul unimpeded by skin and bone, as if he means to exist in her and through her, and live only within her.

He’s a bit pretentious with his love.

But she’s told him

‘Fill each other’s cup but drink not from one cup.’

His simple response was to pull her to him and offer his neck,

“Drink.”

She’s never brought it up again,

His devotion for her, his raw thirst for her, it unnerved her at first when she finally decided after

The numerous ‘Sweetheart, they were not bloody staged’ run-ins in every continent she dared to set foot on,

The two times she needed his blood in the century she spent on her own,

The one night she needed his arms and scent to engulf her and his dead heartbeat to soothe her when Elizabeth Forbes passed at age ninety four,

The one time when she realised somewhere along the way between the sporadic meets and witch hunts, the werewolf venom and death counts, the art and music and culture their souls burgeoned to connect, the great cities they carved into their own stars, the languid conversation as they winded through both cobblestones and pink sands, underneath both fluttering snow of and steady stars, the silent moments of equal awe they both shared between the most downtrodden godforsaken places of hunger and poverty and the most lavish heavens, between all the beauty and filth in the world when they only had eyes for each other, amongst the scent of both death and life when they only inhaled a shared breath so sacred they locked it in and never let it out, when seas and continents and words couldn’t keep them apart, when neither his ego nor her stubbornness could count for any importance in the face of each other, when the one time she realised immortality for her wasn't the ungodly number of years she’s left behind still apple cheeked and smooth as milk, but was the ungodly amount of years still ahead of her that somehow always evinced his hand in hers,

When she finally, one balmy faultless Sunday afternoon, in the thick of Thanjavur’s humidity in India, sitting barefoot as per the town’s religious customs on the ground, sprawled carefully in the warm green grass that precedes the entrance of the glorious Brihadeeswarar Temple, that is almost as old as the man occupying her thoughts,

She finally finds her deviously elusive,

Oh.  

moment, proceeded by the

Oh fuck.

Moment,

Realisation hits her with the weight of immortality and her acceptance that there was no other possibility but this, that this has been inevitable for the better half of the last century, carries the weight forward into her heart and fills it with such indisputable finality, that Klaus’s place is by her side and hers alone.

And after that, well, what else was there to do?

After all of that, it’s one knock on his door, and,

“Alright, apparently However long it takes only lasted a total of 113 years, 6 months and 25 days. I thought I’d last longer, but I’m not as stubborn as I wished I was.”

That night was the first time she realised it wasn’t the first time they’ve made love, slow and sweet and beautiful, But it was the first time Klaus with all the vulnerability of a little boy back in Mygradrir who wore a sterling around his neck tight as a noose because his mother loved him so much, asked, mouth against her skin, face hidden in her neck, a whisper that shook in the middle and dissipated at the edges,

“You’ll stay, not just tomorrow, but after?”

“Yes, yes I will.”

That was about two centuries ago, and apparently after did not mean the day after tomorrow.

But she hasn't had too many complaints, she admits the novelty of him has worn off, he’s a bit grating on the edges, the sides and the middle, he’s entirely too insufferable to put up with for an extended period of time, definitely is only enjoyable in moderation and bite sized doses,

But she did let him put a ring on her finger, and also stood there holding his hand as they were bound by a witch in supernatural matrimony, so she can’t really tell it’s wholly his fault, but she apparently likes him too, in addition to loving him, so she’ll stay.

But she digressed a whole lot,

Where was she again?

Yes, his dimples.

Correction, her dimples

Their appearances are continual and each unique situation had one kind assigned to it, but that does not mean they are repetitive, Klaus is many things but least of all predictable, So he presents her with new ones every now and then, dimples she’d like to kiss till they imprint on her lips,

She knows that even if she goes on to live twice the millennium Her husband experienced, and even if every glittering rarity becomes a hackneyed iteration, and every resounding wave of novelty is a mere echo she’s experienced a thousand times, even if there is nothing new as she leads time through this carousel world as the closest thing to omniscient, then she’ll at least know her husband’s smile will always catch her a tiny bit off guard. That she will always take a second to touch it and see it widen even further when she does.

But there was this one single type of smile he flashed from time to time, a rarity in its own right, that one smile basically threw all progress out the backdoor,

The smile is always characterised by the fact that it’s not for her, or for his siblings, or his enemies, it’s for the world, it’s a smile that he never intended to give but slipped out of his hand anyway, and somehow ends up smiling with his entire body, but he’s done that countless times for her, smile with his whole being, she’d say at least twice everyday, usually more, but when he does it for the world, she’s a bit unprepared,

She knows his hostility against the way of the world all too well, it’s why he’s so adamant on dictating it, she knows the millennium of undead life under Mikael’s hatred left him with a tight grip on the world but only because he was hanging on to the edge of it with both hands, his legs dangling, but he doesn’t show it that way, instead phrases it as ‘I had the world at my finger tips, Now I have it beneath my feet.’

He’s a bit flashy with his pretty words, that total honesty to this man is as difficult as love will never surprise her, but the fact that this same honesty sometimes slips out so easily, unfettered and ensconced in peace and content, that does surprise her, like for instance, right now, He’s sitting there ankle over knee, occupying an entire settee with the way he’s sprawled because of course he has to be the biggest being in the room, he needs to know his ego easily accomplishes that for him, holding in his hand one of the thousand sketchpads he’s still kept after paper was no more the norm nor necessity but became a relic of bygone ages for centuries now, and as he sits there sketching god knows what, in the same room as his siblings, their chatter as perfectly idle as a family’s,

He’s smiling, not at her, not to his siblings, hell not even at his drawing, she knows he’s not listening to the conversation, so it’s not something Kol said or Rebekah whined, he’s perfectly uninterrupted in his smile that just bloomed on his face with no given reason, and there as he bows his head a little closer to the page, not because he wants to hide the smile but because he simply wants to see the sketch closer, she knows he doesn't even know he’s smiling, but he is.

So wide and beautiful and honest, and just because, a smile directed at the world, and to think he doesn’t even notice, to know that it’s so whole and full, that there isn’t a place left in his heart or mind to remind him to restrain it.

She knows she’s smiling just as wide too.

God, the things this man does to her heart,

And not just her heart, apparently her body too if the heady arousal that rushed straight to her clit as if a phantom hand rubbed it is anything to go by, because of course, she’s never so aroused by him as she is when he dimples.

TO CONTINUE READING

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If you find this plotless 5k smutshot of my infernal sub Klaus fantasies doing things to you that are best not done in a church parking lot, please feel free to vote for it in the upcoming KCAWARDS under the BEST SMUT ONESHOT category.

Much love and peace

XX

Srishti🤍

[zigtheeortega]

calm before the storm

✿ pairing: bryce x mc

✿ word count: 2.5k

✿ warnings: loss, death, funeral – angst.

✿ author’s note: i didn’t necessarily think that bryce was written ooc, but the whole post-funeral sequence was pretty weird to me. i’m someone who copes very similarly to bryce, so i could see myself reflected in him a lot. and i thought the s*x scene was very oddly placed so, here’s me warping canon again bc i’m dissatisfied! lmao hope u enjoy <3 also this fic is very close to me emotionally – i experienced two close deaths in april and june. 

•─────────✦✿✦────────•

Since the moment his hands trembled amidst one of the most important surgeries of his life, Bryce was holding on by a thread.

With each half-assed joke he cracked, each wavering smile, each time he tried convincing others – including himself – that he was coping, he fell apart more and more.

The first night he went home after Spencer was quarantined, he trudged through the halls of Edenbrook, like he was dragging his legs through wet concrete. He was nearly magnetized to her bedside, not wanting to leave, but he needed to rest – he’d been awake for nearly a day and a half by the time he clocked out.

He blinked and he was back home. Couldn't remember how he got there. He was on autopilot and didn’t have a clue until he’d already wasted so much time. When night came, he couldn’t recall what he’d done that day.

The days between the diagnostics team finding a cure were torturous, the mere thought of not knowing what the future held – for the first time in his life – shaking him to his core.

He found himself paying close attention to Keiki. Each sarcastic quip, rude comment, or joke at his expense, he listened, soaking it up, no thoughts about the problem back in Hawaii. He whole-heartedly enjoyed her. Through one of the hardest times in his life, he was rekindling a relationship that never should’ve fallen apart.

The night he spent with Spencer, cuddled up next to her in his starchy hazmat suit, was the most daunting of them all. He was smiling and flirting with her, a little bit of his normal self shining through, but the crushing weight of his reality was distracting him.

This could be the last time that you see her smile.

God, he knew he had a killer smile of his own, but hers put the whole damn sun to shame. Her grin lit up her whole body, like every atom in her body was in it. And despite her sunken in eyes, her pale, sickly appearance, she still emitted those same infectious rays that he was eager to soak up.

This could be the last time that you hold her.

He curled himself around her, spooning her like he’d done a handful of times before. What he wouldn’t give to have a faceful of her hair again, the tropical scent so familiar to him that he couldn’t help but associate the scent of coconut with her.

This could be the last time that you feel her.

He stroked her face with a gloved hand, wishing for nothing more than to feel her smooth skin beneath his fingertips again. He pressed into her, hoping she could feel his warmth through the thin layer of fabric.

When her eyelids finally fluttered shut, overcome with exhaustion, his mind wandered to the possibility of it all being over.

And he couldn’t cope with that.

Thankfully, he didn’t have to.

When the treatment worked, and both she and Rafael were cured, it was the first time in months he’d experienced genuine joy. He didn’t know what higher power out there was looking out for him, but he silently thanked the universe for looking out for her. And for putting her in his life, and decidedly keeping her there.

The funeral was too much for him.

Seeing the two caskets, sealed tight, the endless arrangements of flowers, the sea of black clothing… it was overwhelming. Foreign. Like he was intruding on something so intimate that wasn’t meant for him to see.

And the sounds. He’d never forget it. Choked sobs from every angle, constant sniffling, a sporadic wail. The atmosphere made him antsy. His suit was itchy, his shoes were uncomfortable, and he was surrounded by grief.

Both Danny and Bobby meant a lot to Edenbrook, but it was nothing compared to what Spencer meant to him.

He must’ve slipped into auto-pilot (again), because before he knew it, the funeral was over, and he was outside of her apartment.

Wordlessly, he wrapped her in his arms, burying his face in her shoulder, the smell of her shampoo enough to bring him to tears. He was so fucking close to losing that forever. His free will to kiss her, to touch her, to hold her.

She invited him in, and every step to her room felt like each string that held him together was snapping, his sutures buckling under the weight he carried.

He was digging deep, trying to pull any kind of genuine quip from within him, to maybe – just maybe – convince Spencer he was okay.

But did he want to keep her in the dark?

Opening up was so fucking hard for him. Either he was a burden or he was let down by the people he confided in.

Trustworthiness was hard to come by, and Bryce knew that. That’s why Spencer was the first to know about Keiki, about his parents, about him. Not entirely, since he wasn’t ready for that just yet, but he was getting there.

It was a slow process, and he revered Spencer’s patience. Not once did she get upset with him for not sharing every detail.

And he almost fucking lost that.

His torturous inner monologue that he worked so hard to bury showed up when Keiki did. Guilt ate him alive, anxiety gnawed his insides, and regret feasted on whatever was left.

His mind was a hurricane, angry waves crashing painfully against his subconscious, the storm surge from his repeated trauma more than he could handle alone.

The one person he should’ve let in was almost taken from him, ripped from him like a surfboard after a wipeout.

He was drowning, and he flicked away the only hand that was outstretched for him.

And he almost fucking lost her.

The moment Spencer’s brows furrowed at whatever unconvincing mask he had plastered on his features, he broke.

His throat ached and flexed as he tried to choke back the tears, but he just… couldn’t.

Fuck, you’re so weak. He cursed at himself as the tears started flowing, warm streaks trailing down his bronzed skin, vision blurred like his head was under water. This isn’t about you.

The one time deflection was warranted, he broke down into a blubbering heap at her feet.

Like the angel she was, Spencer coaxed his body towards the bed, settling him against the down comforter before his legs buckled beneath him.

She gathered him in her arms, holding him exactly like he needed (like he wanted, but he didn’t want to admit it out loud).

She held him like he held her – like it was the last time.

The revelation tore him up inside, knowing she’d never take a second of their time together for granted again.

He pulled back, running a shaky hand through his hair, loose strands clinging to his damp forehead.

“I normally can hold it together better.” “You don’t have to do that around me, Bryce. You know that,” she encouraged, eyes still red-rimmed from the funeral.

“You’re the one that almost died, and I’m sitting here crying letting you comfort me,” he laughed through a sob, bouncing his leg on the ground nervously.

“You watched me almost die,” she whispered, squeezing his hand. “You’re allowed to be upset.”

His chin wobbled, and he rolled his lips to mask it. He took a shuddering breath, squeezing his eyes shut. “Spencer, I – have you ever…” He trailed off. Why was this so fucking hard?

“Have I been through this before?”

“Yeah,” was all he could manage.

She nodded. “Have you?”

“No.”

She nodded again.

“It’s making me think about my life… and the people in it. And things I could’ve done differently… better.”

“What do you mean?”

“When I saw you in that room, after the gas started affecting you, and your face… it –” he bit his lip to hold back a soft sob. “It got me thinking about everything that we didn’t do.”

“Bryce…” she laced her fingers in his, rubbing her thumb methodically over his skin.

“We’ve barely seen each other this year, Spencer. I got caught up with Keiki, and trying to figure shit out, and –” he searched her eyes, tears welling up again. “When I saw you in that room, nothing else mattered.”

“More than one thing can be important to you –”

“You’re important to me, Spence. You deserve better than what I’ve given you this year,” he shook his head, tears spilling over. “I can’t lose you.”

“You aren’t losing me, Bryce. I’m right here,” she practically cooed, trying her best to soothe him.

“I shouldn’t be the one being comforted right now. Please,” he whispered.

She pulled back, scooting backward onto the bed to cross her legs, as he stood up, pacing.

“It’s like I’m fucking up left and right with the people who matter to me,” he fisted his pockets, avoiding her eyes as he strode across the room.

“You of all people should know that you can’t take the blame for things that are out of your control,” she murmured softly, tugging at a loose string at the hem of her dress.

“I know I can’t control it and that’s why it makes me want to tear my fucking hair out,” he said through gritted teeth, biting back tears. He didn’t want to cry anymore, but his body had other ideas.

“Bryce, you couldn’t have stopped a bursting gas canister. Nobody could’ve stopped it.”

“That’s not what I’m frustrated over. I’m… I don’t know how to say it without sounding like a dick and making this about me. There’s a lot going through my head right now,” he laughed humorlessly, stopping in the middle of the room directly across from the bed.

“Talk it out with me. I’ve got time,” she smiled encouragingly, folding her hands in her laps politely, like the angel she was.

God, sometimes he was thankful for his parent’s demonic behavior, because if not for the bad karma the Lahela’s accumulated, there’s no way in hell the universe would’ve balanced itself out by placing an angel like her in his path.

“On the one hand I’m angry at myself for not spending time with you like I should’ve,” he chewed his lip for a second, trying to gather his thoughts, before speaking again slowly. “I could’ve lost you and I was more worried about keeping secrets from everyone and dealing with shit on my own, you know? Which I never should’ve done.”

“But you didn’t and still don’t have to tell me anything. You’re allowed to have boundaries,” she interjected calmly.

“But maybe… maybe I don’t want that anymore,” he shrugged out of his tux jacket, draping it over the back of her desk chair as he spoke. “You still barely know Keiki. I barely know Keiki. And I holed myself up when you were waiting there with open arms. I don’t know. Maybe I just didn’t want to burden anybody? I don’t know.” He repeated, downplaying his own self–realization.

“And I’m frustrated because I don’t… know how to deal with this,” he gestured around the room, then to himself. “How to wrap my brain around all of it. This was the first time I lost anybody like this.”

“I wasn’t even super close to Danny and Bobby,” he continued, shoving his hands in his pockets to calm his shaking hands.

“Losing people is always hard. Doesn’t matter how close or distant you are to somebody,” she said, trying to hold his eyes, but he could barely look at her.

He’d never opened up like this before. He was so vulnerable… so exposed, and he was afraid. Afraid she’d run away. That she’d bolt the second he plopped his thick suitcases filled to the brim, nearly bursting with emotional baggage from the past two decades.

“I’m sad about losing them, definitely, and going to a funeral for the first time in my life really fucked with my head but… fuck, I’m gonna sound like such an asshole,” he willed himself to look up from his shoes, staring intently at her. “None of that even comes close to what I felt when I thought I’d lost you.”

“Kyra was hanging on by a thread while I thought you were –” he choked, pressing his lips in a firm line to stop his sobs, which escaped through his nose in short breaths instead.

“I’ve never felt pressure like that. And my life has been nothing but pressure.” The words were freely flowing from him, like a dam held together by a few twigs, snapping to release a flood that neither of them anticipated.

“You had to run towards your problems, not away from them,” she whispered, like she wasn’t sure if he’d agree. But the moment the words left her lips, it was like the puzzle pieces fell into place for him.

Maui should’ve been his safe haven, but from the moment his parents were exposed in every form of news throughout Hawaii, he was itching to leave. The island fever settled into his bones and never left. It was an ever present anxiety he struggled with despite finding a home in Boston, Edenbrook, and Spencer.

When shit went down back home, he ran. When people found out who he was states away from the fallout, he ran. It was predictable, methodical, like an appendectomy. The same muscle memory that sliced skin and fastened sutures with delicate precision pumped his legs until he was as far away from his problems as he could get.

“Everytime I lost somebody, it was because I chose to. This time it was like something was being ripped away from me, and I couldn’t handle it,” Bryce said, a profound statement that caused a pained whimper to escape his lips.

“Bry…” She breathed, scooting to the edge of the bed, gently tugging at his shirt sleeve to pull him down to sit on the comforter.

“You don’t have to have all the answers right now, alright? And you don’t have to carry all of this alone. I’m here. You’ve got all of us,” she said, motioning towards the walls of the apartment. “Sometimes just letting it out can take the weight off your shoulders. And you’ve got a heavy load, Bryce.”

She rubbed soothing circles on his back, leaning over to kiss his cheek. “I’m not leaving you.”

He held her eye, doe-eyed gaze piercing – Spencer could see right through him, and god did he love feeling seen.

There was nothing he could say to thank her properly for putting aside her feelings to listen to him for a few minutes. Those few minutes where he unleashed a small portion of the shit he’d been building up for years.

So instead he did what he’d been craving since the moment he saw her behind the glass.

He pulled her into a frenzied kiss, pouring every part of himself into the embrace, wrapping him in her arms like she belonged there, as if he was saying “I’m not leaving you, either. You’re safe now.”

––––

taglist: @pixeljazzy ; @raleiighcarrera ; @senatorraines ; @felix-hauville ; @violinet ; @empressazura ; @serafinedupont ; @messofakind ; @altairadtaz ; @hudush ; @solarbridge ; @adriansbiss ; @bellarxse ; @havennly ; @writinghereandthere ; @levineseth ; @lahellacute ; @michellesnguyen ; @kelseaaa ; @natesewels ; @lucas-koh ; @rainesenator ; @montjoy ; @bryceslahela ; @crestfallenpixie ; @dudebro-lahela ; @ezekielbhandarivalleros ; @lgbtiangley ; @part-of-the-circus ; @nazariolahela ; @hazel-nguyen ; @la-huerta ; @adamdusmortain ; @thepotatobleh ; @distinguishedsaladoperawinner ; @bobbymckenzie ; @catsomi ; @neptunesascendant ; @pixelsandkink

[if i missed you, i wasn’t able to tag your url! i tagged anybody who interacted w the post so if you want to be removed please let me know]

[nerdyfangirl67]

Derek and a Puppy -  Criminal Minds Reader Insert

Pairing: Morgan x reader

Warnings: mentions of dark feelings and thoughts, slight angst, fluff

Word count: 841

The reader has been secretly wanting a pet to keep her company while Derek is away for work and one night he comes home with a surprise.

You sigh as you open your apartment door and see that, for the eighth night in a row, you were the only one home. Derek had been working on a case for the past week and it had been a long week with only one short phone call and sporadic texts between the two of you.

You loved that Derek was a literal superhero, saving lives and stopping bad guys, but on days when the dark thoughts swirling in your head threatened to consume you, you struggled. Derek was the literal light of your life. Whenever you were drowning in your own negative thinking, Derek was always there, pulling you up out of the depths. You had no family and the only friend you were really close to was Penelope Garcia, who was busy just as often as Derek, which made you feel rather isolated.

Since you and Derek had moved into a small one-story house near the river, on the outskirts of Quantico, you had been dreaming about having a dog. You had had one growing up and you remember doing everything with it and wish you had one now if at the very least to have something to distract you from the loneliness that appeared during Derek’s time away. Although it was something you had been wanting, you never mentioned it to Derek, for fear of making him feel guilty about leaving you. The last thing you wanted was Derek to be torn between his job and you, so you didn’t say anything. You didn’t tell Derek about the nights you cried yourself to sleep because you felt alone in the world. You didn’t tell him how there were days you took double shifts at the hospital, just to avoid coming home to an empty apartment.

Admittedly, after a few too many glasses of wine on Girl’s Night, you had told Penelope how much you wanted a dog to help alleviate some of the loneliness you felt in the apartment. Of course, right after that, you had made her promise not to tell Derek.

You were laying on the couch, with both your shoes and coat still on, and had yet to turn any of the lights on in the house. You couldn’t bring yourself to move, let alone get ready for bed. You were trying to make up a reason to get off the couch when the doorknob jingles, right before the door falls open. You jump up from the couch, grabbing the closest thing you can for a weapon, which turns out to be a lamp, ripping the cord out of the wall in the process. At the moment, the only thought going through your head was you wish you had paid more attention to the self-defense moves Derek had taught you, rather than spend all that time drooling over your sexy instructor.

“Jeez woman, why are all the lights off?” Derek’s voice floats through the darkness. You whisper “Derek?”

“Yeah, baby. What are you doing in the dark?” His soft, sensual voice comes just before light floods the living room.

You blink a few times before your eyes adjust to the sudden onslaught of light. Derek is standing by the door, his go-bag slung over his shoulder and his arms cradled to his chest.

“Are you okay? Did you get hurt on the case?” You ask, worry bleeding through your voice as you rush over to him. As soon as you get within a few feet of him, you notice that he isn’t actually holding his arms to his chest, but rather he is holding something close to him.

“Derek, is that… a puppy?” You ask as you tentatively reach out a hand to pet the brown, black and white puppy. “Where did you get him?”

“A little birdie told me that you wanted a dog so she hooked me up.” His chocolate brown eyes search yours. “You could have told me Y/N.” His tone betrays the hurt he is feeling, causing your heart to wrench in your chest.

Turning your attention away from the puppy, you bring one of your hands up to rest on his cheek. “Derek, I didn’t tell you because I never wanted to make you feel as though I wanted you to choose between your job or me.” You murmur, softly caressing his face.

A small whine comes from the puppy and you giggle as you say, “Yes, I’ll give you some attention too.” You scratch the puppy behind the ears.

“His name is Copper and he’s all yours.” He transfers Copper from his arms to yours, giving him a gentle pat.

“Derek, you know you didn’t have to do this. I’m okay by myself.” You lie, not wanting him to feel responsible for the dark feelings you fought with when he was gone.

“No, you’re not. And that’s fine. Cooper and I are gonna make sure you get better.”

And with Derek, and Copper’s help, things did get better. You finally could see the sun through the clouds again.

[saejinws]

let’s get it! it’s chey ( she/her ), bringing you wishbone’s act #2, paksae. he’s an indie artist with heavy influence from the bedroom pop & chillwave micro-genres, as you can gather from his three official singles at the moment: cassette, karma & late night movie. if discord is more convenient for you, you can add me there ( stream do or not#1490 ), but otherwise, i’m usually reachable in ims! here are saejin’s links : career / stats / plots / pinterest, and hopefully all the other information you need will be found below.

the story.

saejin was lucky enough to be born into a relatively happy family, albeit a small one. both parents are only children, so he didn’t have aunts, uncles or cousins, and only his maternal grandparents were heavily involved with the family, but it was alright! lower middle class, mom who made him watch bird documentaries, dad who had a face made out of stone, but there was still a lot of love. it was nice.

the first big change happened when his little sister ( saebyeol ) was born. her existence put a tragic end to his legacy as the park family’s number one baby, considering she’s a whole eight years younger than him.

in the next year, his mom was diagnosed with a chronic illness; one that would see her rapidly going in and out of hospitals for years to come, so the days of naïve happiness were over for saejin. from that point on, it was about “cherishing every moment” and “living life to the fullest” and “not wasting breath on things that can’t be changed”.

aka his mom’s circumstances meant that he was constantly getting scolded by doctors, rns, family friends, his dad, whoever for displaying negative emotions. was shut down a lot, told that he was being a hassle and that he needed to make things easier for his mom. learned to suppress his emotions unless they were positive.

but while most adults in his life were trying to teach him how to be realistic and approach life with an understanding that nothing is easy, his mom worked hard to do the exact opposite. constantly pushed him to chase his dreams because life is so short, and when he decided that he was going to pursue music, she was the first person to tell him to go for it and give it his all.

got his first guitar at age 14, which is when he started writing his own songs and messing around with editing software, but it wasn’t until 2015 that he started playing his music for people. started in coffee shops ( at this point, his songs were entirely acoustic ), then started playing in clubs in hongdae, which is when he started experimenting with his sound. struggled to gain attention. can’t think of what it’s called rn, but there’s a set amount of tickets that opening acts have to sell to earn their spot in a lineup; saejin’s parents and close friends usually bought a tonnn to help him out because strangers wouldn’t give him the time of day. a nobody. hung out after his sets to meet people, but nobody wanted to meet him. pain.

popularity steadily grew over time, and by late 2019, he was in talks with wishbone records. by the new year, he was a signed artist.

assumed that having a record deal guaranteed International Stardom, so you can imagine his surprise when his first music video hardly gained 5k views in the entire debut week... it was an eye-opening experience for him. realized that the grind was, in fact, not over yet. 

his popularity is on a steady incline, but he still isn’t anywhere close to being a household name. very lowkey. he pretends that he doesn’t care, but it eats away at him. spends most of his time in his studio nowadays, trying to create a song that will pull him into the charts. becoming more distant from his parents because he’s so caught up in work, so that’ll probably come back around to bite him in the ass eventually but yk... oh well.

saebyeol is the only family member whom he couldn’t distance himself from if she tried because she’s a parasite. always at his apartment or blowing up his phone, which drives him absolutely crazy because her favorite pastime is ruthlessly bullying him. she’s a little demon.

the character.

park saejin, aka PAKSAE. ‘97. seoulite. soloist.

social introvert. he prefers to spend time alone and usually doesn’t seek company, but if he’s approached first, he’s a relatively open book. forms bonds quickly.

gets unreasonably attached to his friends in short periods of time, so he tries to keep his circle small. he can only deal with wondering why three people aren’t texting him back in a single day: any more than that and he spirals.

pretty optimistic view of life, i think. could’ve become jaded due to his mom’s situation, but she’s made huge efforts to keep his worries minimal and be the best role model she can be in her circumstances. has tried to instill a “life is short, so embrace every moment with open arms” mentality in both of her kids, which saejin picked up on a whole lot more than his little sister has. you probably wouldn’t assume this by listening to his Pity Party Songs ( as saebyeol puts it ), but he’s a happy guy!

on the topic of his pity party songs, all three of his singles so far are a bit sad/melancholic, detailing looking back on the ending of something. he rarely expresses sadness or regret in his day-to-day life, but he considers music to be an outlet. the one place he can be as real as he wants without being criticized. ( that’s what he thought before, anyway. nowadays, he’s constantly getting comments about how nobody wants to listen to him cry about his breakups. fair enough. )

his appearance contradicts his personality. on the outside, he seems like a very loud, expressive person: vibrant colors, unusual materials ( silk chiffon, organza, velvet, etc ), lots of accessories such as gaudy rings, y2k-style beaded necklaces & polymer clay earrings that he probably buys from etsy. but he’s really, really chill & soft-spoken, tries to blend in even though it’s... impossible when he looks the way that he does.

gets most of his social interaction through the sporadic gigs that he plays. on stage, he’s highly expressive and interactive with his fans. when i think of his stage presence, i think of artists like lauv & troye sivan: he utilizes all of his stage space, even when performing more mellow songs. doesn’t want to just stand around and bore his audience. but nowadays, he rarely waits around to meet people because he’s become even more introverted than he was before. in his day-to-day life, there are only about three people whom he contacts frequently and always shows up for. otherwise, his connections are situational: associates the people in his life with certain places, things or activities and rarely meets up with them outside those situations. prefers to communicate through texts or social media messages if he can, but even then, if you aren’t one of his three closest friends, it’s difficult to reach him unless he needs or wants something.

but even tho he’s SUCH a loner... he’s what i like to call a serial romantic. not on a dating ban and also not that popular anyway, so he goes on a lot of dates. blind dates, tinder dates, whatever. texting his friends like “i think i’m in love” twice a month but he’s never talking about the same person. wears a heart-shaped rose quartz pendant to try to manifest meeting his soulmate but he doesn’t want to be clowned for believing in the power of crystals/stones ( or for being so obsessed with love even though it’s OBVIOUS if you listen to his music ) so he says he just wears it ‘cause it’s nice to look at. 

his stage name, 박새, is a type of bird. it’s usually stylized as paksae, so most people don’t question it much, but eventually his intl fanbase got curious about what it means and popped the hangul into a translator: lo and behold, he’s now “affectionately” referred to by fans in english-speaking regions as tit. it isn’t saebyeol’s fault but he’s definitely found a way to blame her for it.

if you go to any of his music videos, you will find numerous comments from paksaeanti05. that’s saebyeol. usually she’s hating on him, but if anyone ELSE tries to hate on him, she turns into a keyboard warrior. she’s his biggest critic and his most loyal supporter.

[divinewhimsy]

Ichor Pt 7 (DabixReader)

A/N: SO I KNOW IT SOUNDS LIKE IT but I PROMISE this isn’t the last one for this. I just wasn’t sure if I wanted to go much farther in this exact moment. I have a couple other ideas for this series but I’m not 100% on most of them so we’ll see. I was thinking of starting some others as well, different one shots or whatever. Would you all be interested in a NSFW addition in the next one? Or is that too far/too much? ImeanIlovesmutasmuchasthenextpersonbuuuuuuuut I don’t wanna force it on people, I guess. Eh, who knows. Enjoy! Thank you for reading!!

Part 6: X

Part 8: X

Tag List: @velvet-kissesss​ @marydragneell​ @littleblackpheonix​ @holytacocactuscollector @ghostingtime​ @the-cosmic-dreamer​

Calloused fingers trace down your sides and you shiver at the touch as they grasp your thighs. Palms both smooth and rough with the slight feel of metal slide against your shorts, fingers tracing shapes into your flesh slowly. Waiting. Savoring. It’s the heat of him that overcomes your senses, leaving your mind in a trap. His scent fills you.

Leather and whisky. Smoke and sandalwood. A hint of mint and what seems to be the natural musk of his skin as he feels your body in his hands. Caressing every curve and dip of your flesh. 

As he finds your hips and pulls you roughly closer to him you yelp at the sudden movement. Dinner long forgotten on the cold stove, you grasp at the leather jacket and his shoulders. Sliding your hands up from his neck to his face, holding him gently as you breathe in his scent. It’s hypnotic. Intoxicating. 

Lips tease at your ear with a husky laugh, his next few words softer than you’ve ever heard him speak before. 

“I could eat you out right here.” he growls playfully and he presses himself between your legs. 

“Not on the counter.” you giggle and he nods, pressing sensual kiss after sensual kiss down from your ear to your collarbone. 

“Shit, you’re right.” he breathes and hoists you up in his arms as he carries you to the kitchen table. “Meals are meant to be eaten at the dinner table.” 

You’re on your back on the table in seconds, his head trailing down your body so slow it's almost painful. Inching closer to the waistband of your shorts until he grabs the drawstring with his teeth and pulls the knot until it’s undone. His tongue tastes your skin beneath your belly button and you shiver under his touch. 

“And I’ll be honest baby girl,” he breathes, his breath tickling your skin. Goosebumps pop up along your stomach and legs. “I. Am. Starving.”

You bolt up in your bed, your heart hammering in your chest at the memory of the dream. Eyes wide to the dark room you search fitfully for something that’ll remind you it was only just a dream. Nothing more. Nothing less. 

Who are you kidding? You’re disappointed it was only a dream. You groan and flop back down to your pillows, staring up at the ceiling as you wipe the sweat from your brow. So worked up over nothing but a dream. How depressing. 

It’s been a week and a half since you’ve last seen Dabi. Since he disappeared in the middle of the night. 

You still haven’t pulled yourself together. As much as you wish you could it seems damn near impossible to forget him as he appears night after night in your dreams. They’re not all the same but they all feel inexplicably and frustratingly real. 

His hands, his voice and his goddamn heat. They plague your slumber like a beautiful nightmare refusing to leave you. Haunting you. What would it take to get this man out of your head?

You’re not sure but the thump from your living room seems like a good enough distraction right now. Freezing, you stare at your door in panic.

Someone is inside your apartment. 

Fear, cold and unyielding, grips at every inch of your skin and you shrink back into your bed. Who the hell would have broken into your home?! Could it be a member of the League, scouting you out? Could it be that strange man who won’t leave you alone after that one night at the bar? You hadn’t brought him home or told him anything beyond your name but the world is full of creeps who will do anything to get what they want. 

You listen in silence as your heart starts to race faster and faster. With every breath it shoots the ice cold paranoia through your veins. You should have listened and moved. As soon as Dabi told you to. Just abandoned everything here and just ran. Bolted. Shit, you’d figure out how to fly if it got you out of this situation.

There’s a tap at your window and a shuffle as you crawl away from it. A shadow peers in from outside and starts to pop the screen out.

Oh no. You never locked your window?! Jesus, how stupid could you be?! What kind of idiot doesn’t quadruple check their windows and doors?!

Well… You, apparently. 

The struggle with the window is only momentary as they press their hands to the glass. When it starts to give way to their movements and slides open, you feel your stomach drop into each of your toes. Not one but two people are invading your home and you’re frozen in terror. 

How many minutes would it take to get away from both of them? How fast would you have to be? Could you get them to I just some of your blood and then drain them? It would have to be quick to get them to buy into it. If you can even pull it off, that is. It’s not easy to get someone to willingly drink your blood- unless you revealed it boosted their quirk. If you could trick them into thinking you’ll comply you’ll have a better shot. 

The figure at the window hops up with a soft jingle. They shift slightly and all the trembling your body has started stops. You recognize that silhouette. You know without a doubt that you’ve seen a fair amount of his flesh without it being covered. Memorized the crazy tufts of hair that go in every direction both wet and dry- and you can never, ever forget those blazing blue eyes. They’re sewn into your mind's eye. A beacon that will always call you toward him from whatever end of the earth you are. Miles or inches away, you can feel them searching for you. Watching.

“D-” you start to say his name in disbelief but his hand clamps down over your mouth and he brings a finger to his lips. 

He motions towards the hallway where the other noises are coming from and you give a small nod. You don’t need his words to understand. 

Somehow, against the odds, Dabi is here. That’s all you can care about although you know you should care there is a literal intruder in your home. Not that it would be important at all or anything. 

Dabi leaps from your windowsill and down to your bed, keeping in to a low crouch as he slides off. Silent as sin, he tip toes to your door and disappears behind it. You listen intently as the shuffling from the living room continues- completely unaware of the man heading their way. 

Had he known you were in trouble? How?

Why show up now, of all the times to show? Not that you aren’t thankful, of course. It can’t be coincidence he’s here when someone else has literally broken into your home. 

The sound of fighting and a yelp from the living room pulls you from your thoughts and you scramble to shut the window. Who did Dabi find? Is he the one who yelped or is it the other person? The sound of scuffing and grunting sounds grow ever closer to your room. You hold your breath and clutch your blanket closer to you, fear flooding into your body as a loud thump slams into your door. 

It bursts open and the man with the green skin from the bar tumbles in, Dabi looming above him. The man twists to face him, his skin changing into different colors. He must have some kind of chameleon quirk. It tries to blend him in but it’s going too quickly, too sporadically to hold on to one shade as he scrambles away from Dabi. 

“Look what the cat dragged in, darlin’.” Dabi drawls and steps closer to the man menacingly, blue fire hovering from his hands. “More trash.” 

“Please, I-I-I didn’t know she was with you!” the man- ‘Charlie’ you remember he had told you to call him. “I just thought she was some single broad!” 

“What difference does that make?” Dabi grins and you watch as he glares down at the man. 

This. This is the villain you’ve been told about. It should scare you. Shit, you should be terrified of him. But somehow, someway, you aren’t. All you can see is that it’s Dabi. The feel of his energy returning to your empty halls. The sound of his voice against the walls and floors. Enveloping your ears in a soft caress as he drawls. Having him near is comforting.

You can feel the bond between you two hum to life, a surge of power and heat bolting through. You know it’s not just from Dabi- you can feel it as the warmth spreads from within your body to the outer layers of your skin. Every calm breath he takes, every step he advances- you can feel the proximity ignite so much more than this mixture of sensations. Your body is locked on to his location like it’s your own. Like it’s a piece you never knew you were missing until you met him. 

“I-I- Nothing! Nothing!” Charlie stutters and turns his eyes to you. “I’m just a friend, right? Go on, tell him!!” 

You shake your head. 

“Pathetic.” Dabi clicks his tongue, “You really can’t think of anything else to save your sorry ass?” 

Charlie lets out a sob and glances back at you. His eyes are begging for your help but you can only flinch as he grabs at the leg of the bed closest to him. He holds onto it firmly with both hands and turns on his stomach as Dabi grabs him by the back of his shirt. 

“Please! I haven’t done anything wrong!” he growls. 

“Yeah, what’s a little breaking and entering into a place that isn’t yours? That’s not wrong in the slightest.” Dabi mocks. 

“Coming from you that’s laughable!” Charlie snaps. “At least I haven’t killed anyone!” 

“That’s just because you’re a coward.” Dabi snarls and yanks Charlie up from the floor. 

“Do you really want to kill me in front of her?!” Charlie motions toward you and Dabi follows his gaze. “Sh-She’s still innocent, isn’t she? You wouldn’t want to ruin her for yourself.”

Woah, woah, woah. Back it up. Ruin you? 

You blink at Charlie as your brows furrow. Confusion turns into anger as you realize just how defenseless he thinks you are. 

“That’s a fucking joke.” you sneer and glare at him. “Why are you even breaking into my apartment in the first place? Couldn’t take no for an answer?”

“Oh shut it.” he snarls. “You brought your pathetic, desperate ass to that bar hoping to be fucked-”

Dabi drops him on the floor face first and presses a boot to his spine. He digs his heel in between his shoulder blades and a sickening crack echoes in Charlie’s body. He gives a pitiful whimper in response and turns his head to the side, un-smashing his face from the floorboards. 

“Did you really think,” Dabi seethes with a wicked grin.  “I would let you go? That I wouldn’t notice you creeping towards her?” 

“I told you!” Charlie whimpers. “I didn’t know she was with you- ack!!” he chokes as Dabi slaps a hand around his throat. 

The smell of burning flesh spits into the room with the smoke curling from underneath Dabi’s hand. You flinch at the sound of the impact and turn your gaze to Dabi. Is he really going to kill this man? In your home?

You know he’s a villain. You know this. But seeing something like this first hand is uncomfortable. It unsettles your nerves and you find yourself reaching to stop Dabi as you scramble out of bed. 

“He’s learned his lesson.” you say quietly and Dabi flicks his eyes to you dangerously. The anger stirs beneath his face, the churning fire of his soul erupting from deep within. 

You grasp his forearm lightly, the heat of his skin seeping into your hand as you hold your breath. He has to listen to you. He has to. Even though this man- Charlie or whatever- is a creep who broke into your apartment, you can’t just stand here and watch him die. It goes against what you stand for. What you try to do with your quirk.

The quirk you’ve used twice now to save him. To scoop him from death's door and back into the land of the living. 

“Let him go.” you say softly and slide your other hand to lay over the outside of his around Charlie’s neck. “Please.” 

Dabi drops Charlie roughly, letting the man slam back into the floor. He fixes him with a nasty scowl before he turns his gaze back to you. 

“You don’t know what’s even going on.” he seethes. “Stay out of this.” 

“I know you’re about to kill him in my own goddamn apartment. I don’t want that blood on my floor.”

Snapping back at him isn’t what you intended. Honestly. 

“I’ll make sure to be careful.”

“Dabi, no-“ 

“Fine.” he says curtly and picks Charlie up, stalking over to your window and throwing the man through it harshly. You catch the grunt and yelp outside as he lands before Dabi’s hoisting himself through it. 

“Lock your fucking door.” he hisses before he slams the glass shut behind him. 

Had he just been here for Charlie, then? You’re left, dumbfounded and confused in the middle of your bedroom. Staring at the closed window, blinking slowly as you try to process what just happened. 

When you can find no explanation, you instead take his hasty, last minute aggravated advice and lock your door. You’re not sure how it got unlocked in the first place or why he just didn’t exit through it if it wasn’t locked.

Locking your window for that added passive aggressive push, you curse Dabi in your mind. 

A week and a half of absolutely fucking nothing and then that? Some half assed attempt? Why was he even here in the first place? What did Charlie have to do with anything? Not that you had any kind of affection for the strange, creepy green man but it had seemed...Strange for him to appear right after Dabi had left. 

Was he using you as bait, then? A trap for someone stalking him? He had said you had no idea what was even going on, after all. But you would know if he’d just told you. 

Then again, he also told you to move. And you haven’t listened. You’ve stayed, unable to even summon the energy to try and uproot yourself. The thought alone is a knife to your stomach. Empty, shallow pains that claw at your throat, threatening to crawl out of your mouth and onto the floor. 

Some of the things Charlie said still feel strange. Your ears refuse to understand the words as you mull over them. Why should it matter to you anyways? Dabi chose to leave. He owes you nothing. Your deal with him is done. It’s over. 

Then why do you feel so cut off when he’s gone? 

Sleep is a blessing not bestowed upon you for the rest of the night. You give up after an hour or so and decide to get dressed instead. It’s only three in the morning, perfect for a short stroll. Totally not to try and find the patchwork man who’s consuming your every waking thought. That’s just ridiculous. 

Your steps on the damp pavement are the only sound as you walk. There’s an occasional car or two but beyond that the night is silent. It observed you walking down the street aimlessly, purposeless save for the burning knot of emotion settling into your heart. Why does it bother you so much? Why does his absence mark your senses with a streak of edge? Sharpening every facet with the temperament of steel. You’re hyper vigilant to the world around you- every space you see, every breath you take, every sound you hear- it’s all categorized in your mind, shuffled away until you have a perfect map in your mind. 

You have no idea where you’re going. You don’t even know this part of town that well. It’s a stranger to your company and you’ve preferred it to be that way before now. 

Now you can’t stand not being here. Not being out and experiencing the night fading into day break. The hours may tick by but your body takes it all in stride, your limbs moving to a song you can’t hear but you can feel. It’s a beating of a drum, growing louder and louder as you feel every breath you take pulled from its notes. Forcing your lungs to inflate and hold before deflating. It picks up rapidly until you’re finally running through the streets, your blood singing with energy as you catch a familiar feeling. The thread between you and Dabi reappears and you can feel the song swell with the dwindling space. 

Magnetic. That’s what this is. You can’t help but feel drawn to every step he takes further away from you. When the blue flames ignite from his body and into the night sky, you see the way they jump higher the closer you get. His power grows as you near him. 

It’s undeniable. He doesn’t seem to acknowledge it as he focuses on the burning body in front of him. Burnt to a crisp. Charred remains start to flake away as they burn into the night. You don’t have to guess to know it’s Charlie. 

You can’t find a single bone in your body that cares. Not a drop of blood that screams that this is wrong. The only focus you have is the burning body that’s in front of you. The man that's still standing as his flames engulf him. As they rise and dance into the night sky, a star given human form has dropped out of the sky and onto the earth. He is destined for so much more than he’ll ever know. 

You can’t find the words as his flames shoot out around you. Walls of blue surround your body but don’t dare encroach on your form as you step closer to him. They part to let you closer to him and the steam and smoke from their absence curls off of him in tendrils. Memories written into the air before they wash away with the wind. 

You’ve come all this way for him. Without words to even say why. Explanations are beyond your mind as the feel of his drumming heart erupts into your skin. His heat enveloping you in a sweet summer's embrace. The kiss of the sun without it’s normal light. But it doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t even burn- your body is cold against his heat and you can’t help but reach out to him. Arms winding around his waist as you hold your breath. 

You are not afraid. You’ve never been afraid. 

Having him so close feels right. It feels like the universe has corrected some cosmic wrong as he breathes at your touch. A silent sigh exhaling from his lips. Tension rolling off his shoulders as the fetal rage winds back inside his heart. Retreating at your touch, slowly receding into the shadows in his eyes. The dark skin held to his face. Hidden beneath the burn scars and trauma you don’t dare ask about. 

“What are you doing here?” he asks quietly, his voice a bored drawl but you catch the note of agitation he’s lacing it with. He’s still upset. In the throes of his dwindling rage he’s still softening to your voice, bending to your embrace. 

He doesn’t even know. Doesn’t realize the curling hand he places atop your own is gentle and warm. That it solidifies your thoughts into a clear stream instead of the jumbled mess they’ve been in his absence. The thoughts of him leaving showing you the awful future he’s barreling towards without the connection between the two of you. 

His future will only change if you force yourself into his life. Letting him go now will end in nothing but pain. Love or not- even if this is the beginning of something you’ve never experienced- you’re not willing to let him die. 

“I don’t know.” you murmur back. “I couldn’t not be here.” 

“He’s dead.” 

“I know.” 

“I killed him.” 

“I know.” 

Silence. 

“I don’t care.” you whisper as assurance. “He’s not the reason I’m here.” 

“And what is?” his words are sharp and quick. Quipped. Tight lipped. Clenched teeth spitting into the world around him like venom. 

Defensive.

“You.” you admit and press yourself closer to him, tightening your grip as he tenses.

Rejection isn’t an option. Not when you know the pull towards him was more than just you. Not when you feel the beat of his heart in your bones. Summoning you, pleading for you. Begging for your presence as vehemently as he’s trying to fight it off. 

“That’s a pretty shitty reason.” he growls and you shrug. 

“I don’t think so.” 

His hands trail to your wrists and loop his fingers over them. Holding them, he pulls your arms off of him and lets go as he turns to face you. Looking at him face to face, you hesitate to touch him again. The agitation in his eyes warns against it but the way he had almost melted when you did says otherwise. 

He must not have been hugged often. Or touched in any loving way. Not that you were sure you loved him- that’s far too bold to assume so early- but the gentle caress of someone you enjoy being with is always a welcome gesture. And you enjoy Dabi. Even if he can be a huge ass sometimes. 

“What do you want, princess?” he whispers and you can see the way his eyes lock onto your face that he’s angry at himself. 

The frustration is not meant for you. He’s biting back the urge to snap, curbing his anger to remain inward. 

“You. To come back.” 

His hand rises to cup your cheek hesitantly and you lean into his touch. Showing you’re not afraid. You’re here for him. 

“I can’t do that.” he frowns and his hand drops from your face. “You wanted me gone, remember?”

“I changed my mind.” 

“That’s not how this works.” 

“It is now.” you can’t help the smile on your face. 

He fights off returning it before he gives in with a cocky grin. 

“Nice try.” he sighs, “but that’s not going to work for this.” 

“Why did you leave without saying goodbye?” 

He glances away and sighs heavily. You can feel him trying to pull away but for every tug away he tries to take you follow. It’s a dance of wills you’re not willing to lose. 

“Stop.” he says and you catch his hand in yours, refusing to let him go. 

“Dabi, please.” you breathe. “Just listen for a moment.”

“Not here. Not out in the open.” he glances around. “If you’re hell bent on this then we need to go somewhere else, darlin’.” 

You can read the frigid shut down he’s forcing himself through. It locks through his muscles and he returns to the bored, uninterested mask he always does. He won’t be himself outside. Where others can see. 

You don’t blame him. 

You lace your fingers through his and tug his arm back toward where you came from. He lets you lead him and although he gives your enclasped hands a wry look he doesn’t pull away. It sends a thrill through your stomach, knowing he’s at least willing to indulge your fantasies. 

The memory of your dreams surfaces as the warmth from his hand spreads into yours. In your dream he’d caressed your body, sensually tracing his fingertips against your skin. The hungry growl and groans he’d let out turn your face red and you hope he doesn’t see. Just in case he thinks this might be for other reasons. 

Dealing with these wayward thoughts might be harder than you thought. The attraction you feel for Dabi only grows the closer he is to you. The more skin that touches yours ignites your desire for him. It’s hard to breathe by the time you make it to your home and tug him inside. 

He doesn’t say anything as he kicks off his boots and strolls to the couch. Watching you carefully, he stands with his hands in his pockets. Silent. Stoic. That same bored facade sewn onto his face. But you can feel his heart through the bond between you two and it’s beating as fast as your own. 

“Well, Princess,” he drawls, “now what?” 

There’s a flicker of lust in his eyes as you meet his gaze. A goading that taunts your own senses. Daring you to recognize it. Displaying it all just for you to see.

It has to be your imagination. 

“Things have changed.” you say plainly, hating the awkward way the words spill from your lips. 

You don’t feel like his attention should be so intently on you. You aren’t a seductress. You’re not well versed in the tantalizing banter and dirty talk like you know he is. It’s the confidence he exudes when he hides that tricks you into thinking you’re out of place. The control his eyes command with just looking at you causes your heart to race. 

He quirks a brow and steps closer to you. You copy the movement, hypnotized by his energy. Losing control over your grip on your own emotions you can feel the flood of the bond between you two. You’re drunk on the feel of being near him, the buzzing life that shimmers between the two of you. You want to touch him- want to hear his words whispered against your skin. 

“I don’t want you gone.” you whisper, reaching for him. 

He steps into your grasp and tugs you closer to him. As if he’s controlled by the same haze you are. Locked into the feeling of the murky and misty emotion buzzing out of control. The desire to be closer has never been this strong. 

What’s different?

You try to think about it but it’s hard to think of anything else but him. Hard to tear your eyes from his. You’re lucky you can even remember how to breathe although you’re sure it’s only because you’re mimicking his actions. Like a puppet pulled into this dance as you two twirl in motions that aren’t your own.

“What made you change your mind?” he whispers huskily and you can hear his control dripping away with every word. 

“I don’t know.” you admit, unable to say anything else. 

Your dreams, maybe? The connection between you two? It could be any number of things, honestly. 

“I just know the farther away you are,” you breathe, “the worse I feel.” 

“Hm.” he hums and dips his head to yours. “When did you figure this out?”

You breathe in his scent, eyelids drooping hazily as his lips near yours. 

“An hour ago.” 

Then, his lips are on yours. It’s a slow, powerful motion at first that turns into a hungry devouring quickly. It’s like he can’t get enough as quickly as he would like. His hands cup your face gently as his fingertips tease into your hairline, pressing into your skin with fervor. It isn’t long before you’re lost in the feel of his lips and hands, loving the warmth spreading from him into you. Your heart is pounding in your chest, speaking his name with every beat. Dabi, Dabi, Dabi. He’s all you need, all you want, all you could ever imagine yourself having. You’re lost in the feel of him. Putty in his hands as he molds you into a shape that fits against him perfectly. 

The rush of your quirk activating without your control makes you both shiver and Dabi gives a deep growl. 

“I don’t want your damn quirk.” he pulls away, breathing heavily. You see the surge of power grow in his eyes and feel the pang of hurt start to spread. Hadn’t your quirk gotten you into enough trouble with him? Wasn’t that enough? 

Your thoughts melt away from your control, still drunk on the idea and the irreplaceable taste of Dabi. You can’t focus on anything else when he’s this close to you. After you just kissed him for the second time in your living room, funnily enough.

“I-I didn’t mean to...I.. can’t control it.” you whisper back and lean in for more.

He doesn’t push you away. 

“Are you saying you can’t control yourself around me?” he laughs and holds your face inches from his own. 

His thumbs brush beneath your eyes and you melt in his touch. The soft and rough feel of him. The cool and warm brush of his body, of his skin. It’s all intoxicating. It’s overloading your senses, your body bending to his every whim and touch. 

“Yes.” you breathe and he chuckles. 

He snakes one arm around your waist and holds you to him. Pressed flush against him you can’t help the sharp intake of air at the sensation of every curve and indent of his body. It’s a hungry rush that bolts through you and he watches you with his half lidded eyes, drinking in every noise and face you make. 

Nothing has felt as right as it feels when you’re kissing him. You’re sure of this. Not having helped the countless people you did before. Not thinking of helping people after him. Nothing compares to the complete sense of rightness that floods through your system as his lips meet yours. 

‘Yesyesyes’ your body craves his touch, every place his hands roam burning for more. Your quirk is already overflowing through your system and the power that runs through him is apparent as he struggles to keep his breathing even. 

    “Sorry,” you breathe as you catch him grit his teeth. “I can try and get it under control-”

“That’s not it.” he interjects as he backs you into the wall. “That’s not it at all.” 

His breath is hot on your neck and you bite back a mewl as his lips press dangerously close kisses to your ear. His hand moves from your face to the wall, pressing a firm fist into it as he heaves breath in and out. He’s balling up the fabric of your shirt in his fist at your waist, a deep, quiet grumble of a groan releasing from his lips. 

“Then what is-” you can’t get the words out as his mouth devours the rest, his tongue slipping into your mouth without a warning. 

This is different. His posture, his words- Dabi can barely control himself as you’re at his mercy. He’s drinking in every gasp and mewl he can pull from you with his lips. His body is pressing against yours, his knee sliding between your legs and pressing against you. You can barely breathe between his lips and his body, your mind spinning with the essence of him. 

“Wha?” you whisper as you pull yourself away from him for air. You need to know what's changed. What's happening? Why is he holding you so tightly- pressing into you with so much fervor? 

“Shh.” he whispers and nips at your ear. The moment his lips touch the skin beneath it you come undone in his hands. Any further protests or questions scatter from your brain before you can even remember what you were trying to say. You wrap your legs around his waist and Dabi gives a happy hum at the motion before his lips are on yours again. 

You’re lost to the desire to be rid of everything but him. Melting and reforming with him beyond your own comprehension, your energy soaring to an all new high as you drift along with Dabi. His body feels like an anchor to your restless soul. A shore you finally come across after years and years of swimming endlessly. 

He’s the answer to the question you never knew you were asking. A divine gift into your dark, secluded and lonely life. A present wrapped in mystery and flames, burning brighter and brighter just for you. A beacon for your lost, wary soul. He is rest when you need it, sustenance when you’re empty. Filling when you’re starving. Everything right in the world aligned just for his presence to be in your life. You can feel his heartbeat alongside your own, feel his body pressing against your own, his soul tying into yours around the bond between you two. Winding around it in knots that seal the two of you together. 

Have you ever felt this complete? How could anything before this even compare after you’ve tasted the wine of his being? Life is changing rapidly and permanently as you wind around him.

And you never, ever want it to go back to the way it was before.

[halothenthehorns]

All in the Family

Chapter 49: Gryffindor vs Ravenclaw

Remus gazed up blearily to the painted stars above and immediately knew something wasn't right. He'd spent the majority of his life gazing up to see those patterns and learn what they meant to him, and even before he sat up and saw the four-poster beds he realized they were only enchanted symbols, and they were once again in dorm rooms. He slumped back down onto the bit of floor he was on and didn't want to bother getting up, they were all exhausted from this nonstop travel.

He wasn't the only one, everyone seemed to be muttering about this fortuitous timing and was claiming beds, though there were only four to go around. The dark blue comforters did look inviting, and Prongs claimed one to drape across all four of them as they piled onto the floor nearly on top of each other as the other four settled in, Regulus still curling up under the sheets that were left in the stripped bed.

He felt surprisingly well rested when his eyes glummed open and no time had seemingly passed around them, the sun still hovering at dusk in the windows. He found himself once again curled into Sirius' chest, and should have felt much more worried if he hadn't been the first to awake and begin trying to edge away, despite Padfoot's arms trying to tighten around his waist in protest. He managed to get himself into an upright position at the foot of Regulus' chosen bed, and began absently stroking Sirius' hair to wake him.

Bright grey eyes cracked open and he made a quite adorable little mewling noise of protest, moving again to curl himself back around Remus' legs and head now resting inappropriately in Remus' lap. Remus awkwardly, and still very quietly, gave a little throat clearing and began tugging on the long locks none so lightly. "I don't think anyone else in here needs to be woken up to that Sirius," he offered. He muttered a few obscenities, but already James and Peter too were beginning to toss around with sleep wearing off and Sirius finally sat upright by himself and rubbed at his eyes. A true miracle in itself Prongs hadn't awoken first really, this fact a true testament to how much these books were getting to him. The real oddity was the light noise waking Wormtail up too.

There was no promise of breakfast to really get them moving, so the four Marauders just sat near each other in a huddle and looked around curiously at their surroundings proper.

They were a bit bias in saying the place wasn't nearly as opulent as their dorm, the stars twinkling above only seemed to invite them to close their eyes again, the sun coming in from the wrong direction they were used to making them feel even more off. They couldn't deny its splendor though, the carpet they could attest was a fluffy rich purple, the trunks reminiscent of their own spilling over with school supplies and memorabilia of the current students living in here tacked up along the wall. The photo on the nearest nightstand was of a girl with straggly blond hair and perturbant eyes being hugged by a woman of the same features, another picture beside it of the same girl slightly older now hugging a strangely dressed man.

All sorts of interesting items seemed to be scattered about her space, including a rolled up magazine peeking out from under the pillow Regulus was still using, a gurdyroot with holes sporadically carved into it, a jar of cat litter with odd things that certainly were Ruins painted in bright pink, and a Muggle Dream catcher hanging crooked in the drapes around her curtains. The other three beds in comparison looked tame.

Curious, and already bored waiting for the others to rouse, the four went snooping with only slight restraint through the girls belongings, half of the things they couldn't even identify, the rest beyond them why a girl would keep these on her person. There was a bit of charms homework with odd little notes along the margins full of warnings that didn't seem to have anything to do with the Alohomora spell it was over, and a complete potions essay that had a seven out of ten, the stylistic flowers and other unidentifiable things that could only be divined from this girls imagination in the margins a clear point of consternation to Snape as it was likely him who'd viciously struck-through them with red rink. They did find the book amongst her things though, next to a clearly hand stitched together novel called, Crumple-Horned Snorkacks and You.

James was disappointed to open it and find the words weren't yet visible until everyone woke up, so he gave the book a toss away and kept spinning an odd device filled with sand around in his hands.

The book landed on Frank, startling him awake and in tandem causing the others just as rude awakenings. The Marauders mildly apologized without even meaning that and kept up their browsing. Frank rubbed sleep out of his eyes and instead of retaliating just smiled around at the familiar surroundings. Even if it wasn't his exact dorm, the familiarity was still the first bit of comfort he'd had since this madness took off. Alice shivered as she crawled out from under her covers and pulled her school robes tight around her as she made her way over to Frank, nudging him aside and crawling into the warm space beside him, head resting on his shoulder as he flipped the book open to begin now that everyone was awake, whether they wanted to be or not.

Harry's story was doing no better to lighten their morning mood. The end of Ron and Hermione's friendship would be a sad blow to them, even having never met these kids. They had at least four more years to hear of Harry's life they presumed, and if he really lost a friend this early on it was likely to be awkward the rest of his time, especially over a pet.

There was some noisy pleasure from the Marauders in finally getting to hear of the Firebolt in action, though Alice's little noise of displeasure at still only getting to hear it rather than feel the sensations herself were apparent in his ear. He stopped to kiss her forehead in sympathy and hoped aloud they'd get to come across Harry's broom themselves eventually in this madness so that his girlfriend could have a go.

Excitement only grew as the whole of before, and the actual Quidditch game was being described in excruciating detail. Frank felt a small bit of revenge at Potter cursing himself not having kept the book so he could be reading this even if he had no real interest in the game, but it seemed he and Evans were the only ones. She was still sprawled out in the bed under the covers, twirling her wand absently and clearly in her own mind.

The rest of the boys, Regulus especially, were all having a merry time critiquing the techniques of both Seekers on display as well as heavily analyzing every aspect of what was mentioned form the other players. Alice was clearly listening, but mostly laughing at them taking it all so seriously.

He nearly threw Alice from the bed in surprise as dementors made an appearance again, he'd startled so hard in his own seat at the idea. Harry handled them like a pro this time though, hardly even flinching and displaying magic beyond his ears in nearly creating a fully corporal patronus to send them away as he kept his attention focused.

Harry caught the snitch, a victory was won and not even slightly dampened by the reveal those dementors were in fact Malfoy in disguise. If anything, it made the moment sweeter Harry's victory was doubled over on that boy getting some comeuppance. The were all laughing and being as jubilant in their celebration as the rest of Gryffindor tower.

"What do you think the Ravenclaws are doing, mourning their loss?" Alice asked him, eyes gazing curiously around the respective dorm room.

"Likely, the Quidditch Captain's throwing his own party and strategizing ways to win next time, and the rest of the dorm's enjoying their own various activities. I know what I'd be doing," he finished in a quiet whispering in her ear, making her giggle while being uncomfortably aware of sharing a bed with him in a room full of people.

Frank flushed as well and read on to save them both. He expected it all to wind down, Harry's odd little dream being just that, and was as surprised as anyone for the boy to be awoken with Ron's fears of a nightmare, that were quickly being proven as anything but. He didn't want to believe it, trying to convince himself the rest of the chapter Ron had been having a bad dream and magically caused his hangings to be ripped in distress. Frank had been trying to convince himself the Black he'd been forced to share time with lately couldn't be capable of such madness in the face of how he clearly cared for his friends, but there was little explanation left as it was confirmed by the Portrait Sirius had made yet another murder attempt on Harry's life. He closed his eyes as he finished, rather than look up and see the four friends being ripped from this room, and possibly apart from each other for good.

[rose-sunlight]

you and spencer have been dating for 2 years and in the episode ‘Demons’ you get shot in the neck instead of spencer and when you wake up in the hospital, the doctor come in telling you you’re pregnant, and afterwards spencer gives this big love speech and proposes to you in the end.

Hey! Sorry this took such a long time, but this was slightly difficult considering I couldn’t actually find 9x24 in my country, which sucked ass. I basically had to use a transcript, so it may seem off to you guys. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy!

RSVP: Marry Me?

Pairings: Spencer Reid x Reader, Platonic!BAU x Reader

Warnings: Blood, Getting Shot, 9x24 Spoilers, Angst, Pregnancy

Texas was hot. It wasn’t the smartest observation that Y/n could’ve taken on, not at this specific moment, but it was still a factual piece of data. Spencer loves factual pieces of data, he was always spouting random facts to her in their shared apartment, either in between romantic embraces or in the most sporadic of moments.

“Did you know the scientific term for brain freeze is “sphenopalatine ganglioneuralgia?”

“If you cut down a cactus in Arizona, you’ll be penalized up to 25 years in jail. It is similar to cutting down a protected tree species!”

“Fun fact, Romeo and Juliet wasn’t an original piece, it was actually based on a poem called “The Tragical History of Romeus and Juliet” that he changed the ending to because he didn’t like how most of the characters died. Romeo and Juliet was therefore a work of…what did you call it, Y/n, ‘fan fiction?””

“The youngest pope was actually 11 years old, so think about that the next time you call me a nerd for completing my undergrad at 16, Y/n”

“Did you know that 58 percent of Americans have called in sick at work when they weren't? And that 91 Percent lie regularly?”

Y/n would have to sigh and push him off her legs, keeping her hands rooted firmly in his hair still “No Spencer, we’re not calling in sick because of a statistic, get up.”

And he would oblige, standing up and putting on his shirt as he glared at Y/n jokingly, before she turned to get out of their bed, showering before work, the smell of coffee and bacon wafting through the house. Sure, boxes were still everywhere, and Y/n was convinced that half her shirts had gone missing from the move, and yes, there was probably a stray racoon in one of these boxes, but it felt like home. Their first home.

Y/n’s desperately wanted to be home right now. Texas, as she had already stated, was hot. It was hot and it wasn’t home, where she could lie in her own bed without sweating profusely, even though Spencer was a human heater most nights. She could even feel him now, his heat radiating as he held her close and tightly in his arms as he whispered sweet nothings into the top of her head. She would’ve smiled if she could’ve; right now, all she could focus on was gasping for her next breath.

Spencer had his arm pressed tightly to her neck, and was crying. Blake, now that Y/n focused more clearly, was screaming out for anyone to help. “We need a medic now!” She was yelling into her comms, “There’s too much blood!”

Oh, Y/n thought, that was her.

It became all too clear now, the Unsub, the bullet…the firearm pointed straight at Blake, with no one focused on her to warn her. She had jumped out of her cover at the last minute, attempting to help her fellow agent. She hadn’t even thought about Spencer, who had to drag her lifelessly away to find cover, and was now softly scolding her as she lay dying. She could remember her teammates calling out her last name, but only now was the fogginess of her mind lifting.

It was replaced by sheer, immense pain. The worst part was that she couldn’t cry, or breathe, to express the amount of earth-tearing pain she was in. Instead, all Y/n could do was lie on the floor uselessly as Spencer watched her bleed out in his arms.

He softly cupped her face, stroking it affectionately as she closed her eyes and opened them drowsily. “Hey. Hey, you’re doing great, alright?” Y/n let out a dopey smile, only half of her lips moving. “Yeah. You gotta stay right here, ok?”

Blake moved to check the blood pouring out of the wound, but wasn’t happy with the results. Y/n’s eyes closed for longer, and Blake was the one to take notice “Eyes on me, L/n,” She instructed “Eyes on me,” Her tone was firm, but you could tell she was panicked.

Y/n shut her eyes, and she could hear Blake calling out for someone “No, no. No.” She was crying, much more emotional than Blake usually was towards anyone on their team. “Ethan? Ethan!”

Everything went black, except for the red-hot fire around her, licking from her neck to her fingertips.

The next time Y/n came too, she was in an ambulance. Spencer had a hand wrapped around hers, and she could vaguely see Derek, sitting and having his wound treated to. There were no two other people she would want by her side at the moment. Spencer’s warm presence was anchoring her to this body, to this life, and Derek was doing much the same. But there were too many loud noises: one in particular was sending shocks through her body. It was loud, like a high-pitched dog whistle, the kind you could hear when your ears were still young, and didn’t know evil words of the world.

“The sound is like a teakettle. Do you hear it?”

Spencer looked up through tears “What?”

“Y/n” Derek softly said, but it was no use, her chest arched upwards, her body tensing as if she had been tazed. There was beeping, and everything seemed to rush. The EMT’s began to work on her, spitting fast words at each other. Spencer was smart, he knew what they meant: Y/n L/n was dying, right here In this ambulance, she was flatlining. He couldn’t stop his sobs.

“Y/n!” Derek cried out again, but the EMT that was patching him up pushed him back to a sitting position.

“Agent, you’ve got to sit back.”

Derek was frantic “You gotta help her, man.”

Spencer was muttering things to her, like she would hear him and wake up, immediately stop bleeding out. “Come on, now, baby, stay with me. I’m right here. Y/n!”

There was more beeping, and for a second, Derek was sure she was gone. “Y/n!”

The waiting room was sombre and quiet. Nothing felt right without her by their sides, cracking jokes and smiling with the widest smile she could. Her family had been told, but no one could get out. They all lived far away, far enough that travelling to the hospital where Y/n was fighting for her life was impossible. So, all that was left was the BAU, her chosen family, all in various states of unrest and upset. Derek had been taken to another room to be bandaged up, but he vowed he would not stay in the room long, and that he’d be with them in minutes. It had been an hour, and no news had come through the doors.

JJ walked through the door, tucking her phone back into her pocket and approaching Alex, who was sitting off by herself, hands grasping each other, still red with their teammates blood. JJ tried not to wince. “Anything yet?” She asked for what seemed to be the hundredth time.

“No.” Blake shortly replied. Her eyes were fixed on her hands.

“Y/n would have profiled like two people by now out of boredom. Maybe 3.” Garcia noted sadly. It was true, Y/n had a certain knack for profiling people based on appearance; the BAU ladies often took her out to bars just so she could pick out the good dates from the bad. Of course, they didn’t just bring her along for that—she was also a mean Karaoke partner.

This seemed to make Blake even sadder “It should have been me.”

JJ shook her head “Or me or any of us.”

“No,” She said, standing up to face the other Agent with unshed tears in her eyes “She pushed me out of the way. If she doesn't make it—”

Spencer stood up “I can’t listen to this.” He told them, moving towards the door. Rossi stood up too, blocking his exit by placing a handout.

“You can’t leave. She needs you here, and we can’t let you put up your walls right now. Sit down, kid.” He instructed, looking to Hotch for support. Hotch just nodded, patting the seat next to him. Spencer didn’t have the energy to protest, so he let himself sink down into the chair, wiping his eyes.

“She has to. Make it, I mean. She's just--she's too young.” Rossi said towards the other agents, who were looking guiltily towards their friend, who was sitting with his head in his hands, blood still on his clothes, face, hair, and hands. He was shaking like a leaf, his left leg bouncing erratically.

“Yeah, there's still things for her to do,” JJ said, sitting back down beside Garcia, “You know, she wants kids. Can you imagine Y/n as a mom?” JJ laughed softly

“I reckon she’d be a straight up soccer mom. Y’know, riding around in the Volvo, picking up little Timmy and Lorraine from practice?” Garcia joined in, smiling at the very picture of Y/n, one of her closest friends, and fairly guarded with her emotions, being a soccer mom. Then, she was overcome with emotions, spotting Spencer again, who’s jitters had calmed. He was thinking of the same things. “That'd be the luckiest kid in the world.”

“No doubt.” Rossi said with a smile, patting Spencer on the back as he did so.

Spencer’s sobs broke through the room’s silence, and everyone seemed to freeze. Their friend wasn’t usually so loud with his emotions, it seemed like whenever he cried, he cried silently. This was different; this was loud, and heart-wrenching. It was muffled behind his knuckle, which he was biting to keep from making noise. It wasn’t helping. JJ began to cry, too, and then his friends were all around him in a group hug. Whatever the outcome of the day would be, it was nice to know they would still be a family.

People came and went after that: there was still a case to solve. Although everyone wanted to focus on Y/n, there were young women being killed, and if they could save them too, then maybe everything could return to normal. Spencer, Blake, and Garcia were the only ones left.

“Agent” A doctor said as he approached the three agents as if he were approaching wild animals. Blake’s heart was in her mouth as she tried to keep herself composed. Garcia was latched onto Spencer, whose knees looked as if they would give out at any moment. As the doctor entered the room, he shot up, clasping a hand around his mouth.

Garcia held his hand tightly, speaking for him in a soft voice “How is she?”

“Incredibly lucky” He replied while Spencer let out a sigh of relief, wiping his eyes once more. The doctor still looked concerned though, so he let them continue speaking “Two millimetres to the right and the bullet would have torn through the carotid artery. It nicked some smaller vessels, but we've stopped the bleeding.”

“Oh, thank god,” Garcia sighed, placing a hand on her heart.

“Are you her partner?” The doctor glanced towards Spencer, who looked up and sniffed.

He nodded weakly “Uh…yes, yeah, I am.”

“Ok, great. Can we speak in private? Just through here.” The doctor said. Spencer gave a nervous glance to Garcia, who just nodded for him to go. “You could see her now, if you’d like, Agents.”

“Yeah, I will. I’ll keep her company, Spence.” Spencer nodded and made his way to the doctors office. It was a small office with surgical white walls, with one brown oak desk sitting in the middle o the room, the computer ancient and dusty.

“So, Agent Reid-”

“It’s…it’s Doctor.” Spencer corrected, feeling the pang in his heart when he realised it wasn’t Y/n correcting the man. The doctor nodded with a sympathetic smile, before typing something into his computer quickly.

“So, I can assure you that Agent L/n is as healthy as she could be. We ran all the tests we could to ensure her recovery was quick. However,” Spencer sucked in a harsh breath, shifting position in his seat, “when running a blood test to check for infections and see if her kidney functions were all good, well, we did notice…an irregularity. Her hCG levels are increasingly high, which does in fact indicate a pregnancy which has affected our duty of care.”

Spencer wanted to cry. He wanted to sob from a mix of elation and fear, but instead, he just blinked. He had so many thoughts about how he should react that he actually forgot to do so. The doctor was waiting for him to say something, but it was a few painful seconds before he could actually conjure a sentence. This was all wrong. Y/n was supposed to be here to find this out with him.

Spencer’s mouth was dry, and felt as if someone had force-fed him cotton. “Is…is it…?”

“We did extensive checks, both mom and baby are fine. She’s set to wake up in an hour or so—do you want a nurse to explain everything to her?”

Spencer paused before shaking his head “No…no, I’ll tell her.”

And so he does. Spencer walks into her private room, where Garcia has organised all her favourite things on the meal tray, and lets out a smile. Photos of the team and Y/n line the tray, along with trinkets from her favourite TV shows. Blake is to the side of the room on one of the uncomfortable chairs, her eyes constantly on Y/n’s form.

And then, Spencer only sees Y/n. She’s been propped up by one of the nurses on an endless amount of pillows, and her neck is tightly bandaged. One hand rests on her stomach, and the very thought sends a tingle down his spine. But she’s awake, and looking around the room at her friends. The doctors said she’d be asleep for another hour: clearly, they’d never met Y/n, who always exceeded expectations.

“Hey, Spencer, can you tell her she can go now, please?” Y/n raised a single finger to Blake, who had raised her head again with a soft smile “I'm ok, Alex. Go help the team. Spencer’s here, I’ll be fine!”

Blake stood up, patting her legs “All right. I'm out of here,” She said, turning to leave the room with one final statement, “I'm glad you're awake.”

“Thank you” Y/n said with a large smile, before wincing at the strain on her neck.

Garcia took note of his poorly concealed smile, but probably chalked it down to seeing his love awake and smiling back at him “You ok, Spencie?” She asked, before setting down one final trinket on the table.

“uh…yeah, yeah, I’m great, Garcia. Could you possibly get us some coffee?”

Garcia nodded and left the room. Truthfully, Spencer wasn’t thirsty, he just wanted to be alone with his favourite person, and his new favourite creation. He wanted to spout random facts he had learnt about pregnancy to Y/n, but he couldn’t bring himself to open his mouth. Even though she was awake, the seeds of doubt had already been sewn, and he was waiting for a drop in vitals, and the moment he’d have to say goodbye to the life he’d already built in his head. He had to make sure Y/n was alright.

Y/n was staring back at him fondly as Spencer stroked her cheek. “When this comes off, I'm gonna look just like Boris Karloff.” She said jokingly.

Spencer let out a small chuckle, “A little green makeup and you'll have the best Halloween mask ever.”

She went to get up out of bed, but Spencer placed a hand on her stomach to keep her down. “Everybody's fine. Don't worry.” He assured her

“I'm not. You’re the one that’s got that furrowed brow.”

“Just worried about you, that’s all. Hey, the doctor told me something before I got in here…” Y/n shifted again, fear hitting her in a wave—was there something wrong? She couldn’t help the dark spiral her mind was going towards. “Don’t worry, it’s…unexpected, definitely, but it’s something we both wanted.”

“Okay…Spence, you’re scaring me a little bit, what’s up?”

“The doctor found high levels of hCG in your blood.” He blurted out. Y/n placed a hand on her mouth, tears filling her eyes, “Don’t worry, though, the…the baby’s fine. They’re ok.”

“oh my god, Spencer,” Y/n was beyond emotional “I could’ve died and not known about it. I almost killed…”

Spencer placed a hand over hers, smiling softly and as reassuringly as possible. “You didn’t, though, and you didn’t know! Look, it wasn’t anyone’s fault—you’re alright, so is she!”

Y/n nodded “I know, but-wait, did you say she?”

“Well, technically, we all start as female, so yeah, she would be a she right now-”

Y/n let out a loud laugh “Spencer, I’ve known about her for thirty seconds, and you’ve already spouted a fact.” He blushed a bright red colour “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Spencer said, before bringing his hand to her midsection lovingly “And I love you too. In fact, I love you, Y/n, more than I thought I could ever love anyone. I’ve loved you since the day I first saw you enter the BAU, and I’ll love you until the day I die, because loving you…” he tried to swallow his emotion “loving you is the best possible thing I could ever do with my life…uhm, sorry, I’m add-libbing here, I didn’t bring a speech. I was going to do it when we got home yesterday, but…this all happened…I don’t even have the ring with me…”

“Spence…”

“So this isn’t the proposal. This isn’t, because I want to do it right, and…and you’re in a hospital bed, it just doesn’t feel right. So, this is more like a RSPV for a later date. So, Y/n L/n, when I ask you to marry me…”

Y/n’s voice was overcome with such emotion, it was almost like a different person. She smiled widely, not caring about the amount of pain she was in, or the safest amount painkillers they had given her, and nodded her head at the man in front of her, his frame bent over her bed, too afraid to sleep beside her in case she broke, “Spencer Reid, I will say yes.”

Their kiss was tender and full of promises.

When Garcia came back with the coffee, she took notice of how the couple was latched onto each other, eyes closed and a tangle of limbs. She noted how Spencer was finally sleeping, and how Y/n had one hand in his hair, and the other on her stomach, where her fingers interlocked with Reid’s. She smiled to herself, took a sip of her coffee, and placed the other down on the side, before turning off the main light and leaving the room. She had a serial killer to catch.

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[duraxxor]

Shadowlands: Chapter 1 - Division

Icecrown had often been a referred to as the capital of the Frozen North. Hues of blue decorated by the overcast of frigid snow. Remorseless and more often than naught, it often filled one with a sinking depression. Over the past several years, it had become a monument to undeath. The citadel spires erect in honor of the Lich King. However, much like many areas, the Frozen Throne was once a prison to the first Lich King, Ner'zhul. The Maw itself was originally designed to keep the Jailer imprisoned. But it had long become more a staging ground for something more sinister. Unlike it's mirror opposite, it was completely devoid of any sort of life and beauty. An undying husk plagued by hellish fire and nightmarish shadows that seek only to steal any soul, innocent or sinful of heart. The cycle had been shattered and now their was an rising flux of evil within it's heart... 

" Alphus... Daevara... time to awaken... " A hallowed voice called to him, possessing soulless depth that lacked any heart. Deprived and withered of any sort of remorse for this soul. The flow grating across one's mind like nails to a chalkboard, screeching and gnawing away. Dura's eyes slowly came an open, tugging at his arms as he realized he was in a shackles with his back flat against a metallic wall. The first vision of this formless creature before him haunted his mind as he couldn't make out a face or even a pair of eyes to stare into. Jaw falling open as if he had truly seen a ghost of sorts. "... how curious... you do no show fear but... curiosity... do you not fear the immeasurable pain that is to befall you from the unknown, child? " The voice flowed a testament to mock the mortals weakness of being caught in the first place. Wings of black smog finally painting a memorable picture that slowly caught Duraxxor up with where his story left off.

" Fear? " He questioned the very notion of such, his voice also having grown hollow. The fact rung across his eardrums as he cast a glance across the entire landscape. Never in his lives did he believe himself to find such a grotesque landscape that rivaled even the Scourge. "... What is this? Why am I being restrained like some animal? "He tightly tugged at his bonds, feeling as if the metal was barbed and pulling away at his very soul threads. " What is their to fear? I fear no pain of what is to come? This... land.. where am I?" 

The specter of death stepped over towards a small table off to the side as the harsh cries of some other individual echoed across the landscape, moaning it's displeasure to held prove a point in the words that were about to be uttered. " You are in the Maw... there is no hope. No escape. And you will yield yourself to his will or be consumed by the endless darkness. " The formless armor stepped forward, bearing a blade in arm that pulsed with tethers of anima, fibers of soul magic that was as common in the Shadowlands as mana was back on Azeroth. Another wailing cry echoed from the opposite direction from the last as the feeling of dread tried to creep along Dura's neck. 

Alphus' glare focused on the weapon, noting the magic that imbued the blade before he looked at the specter's helm, treating the eye sockets as a something to stare into. " You seek to torture me for eternity? Then you are sadly mistaken... I will not yield to any pain... there is work to be done and it is your meddling that has delayed the death of one who is worthy... " He hadn't forgotten about Lindeara, a being of chaos that would do whatever it takes to see her plans come to fruition while sabotaging any in her path. He wondered if these creatures had captured her and planned to torment her soul in this land. " Where is she? " 

" It matters not where anyone is... you will yield... whether as a whole being... or a broken one... " The being didn't hesitate or show any caution in her movements as she thrust this sword directly into the center of Dura's pectorals, feeling something tear into him like he had never felt before. It was as if his own soul had spontaneously combusted from inside, burning away. His veins began to start flowing with with erratic magics as he reeled back, crying out in something that truly hurt him.

" You... You wretch... ed! Gaaahhh! " He felt his form start to twist and writhe as bat wings tried to sproud out involuntarily while his features began taking on the form of a bat-like creature, shrieking as the pain began to get worse. He flailed and writhed like an animal that had been caught in a trap, helpless and bleeding out from his wounds. " I refuse... to yield! So much... left undone! " Despite his protests, all he gained was the symphony of cries that followed all over the hell bound lands and the growing pain of the blade being removed and reapplied all across his body. The actions felt as seconds had suddenly turned into hours, days, it almost felt like months were falling away, withering him from the inside out as he felt his body start to grow weak and heavy. " I... will not... yield... " Duraxxor continued to weakly protest, angrily staring at his captor despite the amount of puncture wounds that leaked the energies of his very soul, already tinged with a crimson flow. 

" This one.. shows great promise.. my master... he has already been touched by the power of anima.. " His captor commented, as if to be speaking with another person who was not currently present. Quietly, silence passed between him and this cold creature wielding a sword as a tool. " Of course, master... It is as you say... as a whole or as a fraction.. " The being pulled the blade out, giving Dura moment to linger on the pains of this torture, the winged creature of a man quivering from the consistent trauma being inflicted upon his bodily soul. The specter watched as he lifted up his head and bore his twisted gaze into their form, rumbling with a growl before it was cut short by a sudden slash of the blade that cut right through him as if he were nothing more than sliced bread. A jagged crack suddenly forming across his entire torso.

" What's... happen.. ing!? " Duraxxor could barely audibly speaking as he writhed agony, feeling the tethers that kept himself slowly spread apart. Like a paper husk, we was being split into pieces straight to the central fibers. Discoloration began to settle on his features as he soon found he was losing himself. The images of his life cycling through at a sporadic rate as the pain ignited wildly. His body slowly began to lose physique and he found that even has face was splitting into three sections as he bellowed out loud enough for the other denizens to feel the amount of agony he was enduring. The overly dramatized No following forth before the Duraxxor we knew finally shattered like glass, leaving the chains connected to three individual massses of energy that retained no shape. These shards of what was once the Myotis now writhed in agony in an attempt to rebuild and take on physical forms. A single fragment taking form in a serpentine-like creature that billowed and snapped it's jaws while lashing it's tail wildly like a whip. The second fragment, flapped two limbs that began to form, sharp teeth now shrieking as it flopped around due to being grounded. A full coat of fur beginning to form on the majority of it's body like a grizzled fruit bat. Then finally, at the epicenter of, the last piece began to take on the form of a humanoid. A younger, frail elf that possessed pale features, two snake bite piercings, and a gaze that bore no fruit and was as clear as glass. This new being was gasping for air and naked, possessing quite the panicked look as he felt his throbbing within his chest much like a living organ. Looking around, the creatures and their captor had finally disappeared, leaving what was left of Daevara alone to their own devices.

" What's going on? Why... who are you? " The elf looked to each of the creatures with unfamiliarity and a shivering fear about what was transpiring. 

" Reeeeeeeeeek! What is this?! Why did we fall apart?! " The bat creature screeched and continued to roll around on the ground, making matters worse as the chains started to wrap around his wings. 

The serpentine finally managed to coil up defensively and calm himself, peaking from between his his coils as he hissed at the two. " There is no need for panic... it would appear that our soul has been split asssssunder... I do not undersssstand what hasss happened... but now.... we are trapped together... but sssseperate.. " 

The bat finally ceased his movements as he tried to straighten himself up as he looked over towards the elf and speak. " Hey, you, you look just like us as a kid... does that mean you're the main part of us? Why are you so weak and frail? "

The elf finally sat up, curling his body to hide his shame before he finally answered his bat companion. " I... I don't know... I just feel this... vulnerability... I don't... feel like.. myself... what is... happening to... Me? Us? You? I don't even know... " Confusion showed about his features as he looked between the two.

" How the hell are we going to get out of here? What if we are stuck like this forever?! " The bat piped up as he wildly flapped his wings around, gusting air before he found himself whiplashed by the serpent's ridiculously long tail. " Ow! "

  " Would you calm yourself, you gutter snipe... do you want to catch the attention of more denizens of this place... we have to remain calm until we formulate a plan to rid ourselves of these chains... we are all a part of this until we figure out how to fix it... " The serpent appears to be the voice of logical reasoning out of the entire trio before he coiled himself around the elf protectively. " She will come... someone will come... don't forget this... " 

The elf looked towards the crimson serpent as if he was providing some insight and guidance to the situation before he nodded. " Very well... we will hold out as long as we can... until then.. let us... keep one another company, my friends. " He reached over to his left side and actually pet the bat creature along his head before he spoke further on the matter. " I shall call you... Randdu... and Sphula... " He gestured to the serpent with his other hand for the second name before he gestured to his own chest. " For now... I am simply Daev.... and we will figure out how to escape and settle the score... this i swear to you both... "

[silverhandy]

Verbatim

read on ao3!

Summary:  Having climbed all the way up from Heywood’s slums to Miyabi, one of the most high end casinos in Night City, Santiago "Sanny" Garcia thought himself a lucky man, right until the point when his employer, an Arasaka board member with a gambling business on the side, caught him stealing and offered an impossible ultimatum. Forced to pay off his debt or die trying, Sanny has to renew some old friendships and form some new ones to keep himself afloat.

On top of everything, when his cyberware starts malfunctioning, there’s only one person on his long contact list that he can call.

“Where’s your Trauma platinum when you need it, pendejo?”

“Kicking a man when he’s down? Never expected that from you” Sanny groaned, burying his face in a pillow. He’d give anything for the world to stop spinning, just for a second. Faced with a heavy silence, he cracked one eye open to see Maria’s disgruntled expression on the holo. “It got revoked, okay? I’m literally begging here.”

“You're not,” she replied, the frown still not leaving her face. Sanny could swear at least some part of her was enjoying it. “At least not yet.”

“C’mon, hermana. I’m-” before he could finish that sentence, he was cut off by another wave of nausea strong arming its way through him. He barely had the chance to haul himself over the edge of the bed to vomit into the bucket he put there, anything to avoid ruining his ridiculously expensive, silk sheets.

Sanny could practically feel Maria’s judging stare on him as she got a front row seat on her brother puking his brains out. He understood her, in a way - their last conversation wasn’t exactly a pleasant one. Maybe he went a little overboard with his bragging. Still, she was his only sibling that still kept in touch with him, all the rest a step away from declaring him a total stranger.

As he wiped his mouth, desperate to get rid of the bitter taste of bile, he entertained the thought of apologizing to her. Was that his new low? At the mercy of his older sister? Certainly not a position he thought he’d find himself in, not after he decided to say goodbye to Heywood for good. She had every right to resent him just as the rest of the family did, but despite it all, they still kept in contact. A sporadic, passive aggressive contact, but a contact nevertheless.

She let out a heavy sigh. “Fine. You’re lucky my day freed up, otherwise you’d have to call some other sorry fucker. Text me the address, I’ll be there in an hour, maybe two.”

“Two hours? You for real?”

“Don’t push your luck, Santiago.”

                                                              ***

“That ripperdoc of yours, how reliable is he?”

“He knows his stuff. Just bear in mind he doesn’t usually take on corpos.”

“Not a corpo.” Sanny mumbled, resting his forehead on the cold glass of the passenger's window.

“You sure as hell look like one” she replied, not taking her eyes off the road.

“When in Rome, do as Romans do…”

The car hit a bump, making Sanny smack his head against the glass. An explosion of pain followed as an array of angrily white stars danced in front of his vision, sprinkled with not less alarming system failure warnings. If he didn’t know better, he’d say Maria did that on purpose, but she wasn’t responsible for the state of the neighborhood's roads. Not directly, at least.

“We’re here.” Maria’s voice snapped him out of his stupor. Some time must’ve passed because when he opened his eyes they were parked on the edge of a wide, busy street, various shops, and nightclubs drawing customers in with their loud neons and whatever else they had to offer. Luckily for Sanny, they didn’t have to walk all the way through it, loud sounds and aggressively bright lights coming at him from all directions, mercilessly aggravating his headache before they turned the corner and walked through the gate leading to a small, crumpled backyard. Maria led him down another set of stairs to an unlabeled basement, one of those places you needed to know were there to find them.

“Hey Vik!'' she said as she passed the gate to the underground clinic, walking in as if she owned the place. Sanny followed behind, his usual confidence shrinking. If what Maria said was true, there was a real chance that the ripperdoc would turn him away and he doubted he had the resolve to drag himself to another one. Suddenly Fukuzawa’s offer of a bullet to the head seemed much more appealing.

When the ripperdoc turned his head towards them, a warm smile appeared on his face as his eyes landed on Maria. Tossing the screwdriver he’d been holding aside, he got up to greet her, though Sanny could tell he was eyeing him over her shoulder as well. He couldn’t blame him - he probably looked like a breathing trainwreck.

“Hey, good to see you.” the ripper said to Maria. “So you must be Sanny?” he asked, suddenly shifting his attention to the younger man, extending a muscular arm towards him. The ripper was built like a fucking truck and Mal could feel his mouth go dry, and only partially because he must be severely dehydrated at this point. Suddenly regretting that he didn’t at least take a shower before Maria came to pick him up, he took a step forward to shake the man’s hand.

“That’s me.” Sanny smiled nervously, his paled face twitching with the effort.

“Viktor Vector’s the name. Heard a lot about you.”

“Oh yeah?” Sanny could hear his voice cracking, mind racing at all the things Maria could possibly say about him while in her ripper’s chair. There were many and only a few made Sanny proud of himself.

“I’ll leave you boys to chat. Don’t want no part in this.” Maria said, a crooked smile on her face. “I’ll wait in the car. Vik, feel free to add this to my tab.”

“Sure thing, sweetheart.”

And just like that, she left him there. Great.

“Alright, let’s get you seated, don’t want you to crack your head open if you fall.” Sanny heard Viktor say. Too busy trying to keep down the few sips of water he got before leaving the apartment, he didn’t even notice how his silhouette started to sway to the side, only stopped by the ripperdoc’s strong arm on his shoulder, steadying him and gently ushering him in the direction of the chair.

Looking back, the whole thing couldn’t have happened to him at a worse time, shortly after he got dropped from the Trauma Team health plan, his regular ripper bidding him farewell with an apologetic smile, even taking a step further to wish him luck. So much for the Hippocratic oath. Sanny watched silently as Viktor kicked himself a chair and sat down to fire up the monitors, typing away at the beat up keyboard until eventually, he reached out a hand.

“Your personal link, please.”

“‘f course” Sunny mumbled, handing him the cable and watching as the doc jacked it into the port, on the first try even. Must be the practice, Sanny thought and allowed his head to rest on the headboard, the blue leather cracking slightly as Viktor started running diagnostics on his cyberware.

“That’s an impressive set you got there”

If he wasn’t feeling so damn miserable, he'd smirk. Impressive was an understatement, with his array of the state of the art cyberware, from behavioral boosters to those refining his fine motor skills to a point he was practically a magician with a deck of cards. Or a lockpick, but he was yet to get desperate enough to give that career path a try.

“My job has its perks.”

“You a croupier at Miyabi?” it seemed that Viktor was rather keen on small talk, a quality that Sanny didn’t quite share, but hesitantly welcomed.

“Figured it out from my tech or did my sister tell you?”

“Bit of both, I suppose.”

Jacked and insightful. What more could Sanny possibly want?  Then again, it wasn’t a time in his life for romantic pursuits, both this specific moment, lying sick on the ripperdoc’s chair and in a broader sense, when he had a figurative gun to his head, a literal one soon to follow if he doesn’t resolve the mess he got himself into.

“Other than dizziness, anything else bothering you?

“Uh,” Sanny turned his head to look at the other man. There were many things bothering him and most had little to do with his current physical condition. “I haven't been able to keep anything down for a few days now. Not even the damn pills for the headache. Running self diagnostics didn’t spit out anything useful either.”

Viktor’s brows furrowed as he shot the younger man a glance from behind his shades. Disapproval? Concern?

“It’s been this bad and you’re only now seeing a ripper?”

“Maria told you where I work but didn’t share why I’m visiting a back alley doctor? How considerate.”

“You guys don’t get along too well, huh?” Sanny frowned at the direction this conversation was going, but there was nothing he could do but enjoy the ride.

“It’s...an on and off thing between us.” he just mumbled, desperate to avoid Viktor’s gaze. Lucky for Sanny, the ripper’s attention seemed to be entirely on the monitors in front of him.

“Just remember, kid,” Viktor said, finally turning to look at Sanny’s face. “she cares about you a lot. Wouldn’t bring you here if she didn’t.”

Sanny just hummed in response. Deep down, he knew the ripper was right, but the whole exchange only made him even more curious about what exactly Maria had been saying about him. It couldn’t be half as bad as he thought he deserved because not only had Viktor not kicked him out of the chair, but was even nice to him. Go figure.

“Alright then,” Viktor said, unplugging the younger man’s personal link. “had to do some cleaning in your CPU, you should be up and running in a few hours. Take this before going to bed for the night,” a strip of pills was placed in his hand “and in the future, watch what you plug your personal link into. I know you guys working in high end casinos get a fancy firewall as part of the package, but it’s not foolproof.

“It sure ain’t, doc. Thanks for the advice,” Sanny smiled, motioning to get up from the chair. “and everything else.”

Whatever Viktor did, the effect was immediate; the clinic was no longer swaying and his stomach didn’t threaten to twist itself inside out every time he moved his head. He still felt like he was experiencing a crescendo of the worst hangover of his life, but it was nothing that couldn’t be managed with a shower and a fresh change of clothes. Who knows, he might even get bold and eat something, though he still wasn’t sure about that one.

“Don’t mention it, I don’t often get the chance to tinker with Miyabi tech. And if you’re open to some more pieces of advice, you should be thanking your sister, not me.”

“I’ll make sure to do just that.”

“Should you run into more trouble with software, my clinic’s always open. I’ll send you the number, so don’t hesitate to give me a call.”

Did he just…? No fucking way, Sanny thought as he walked up the stairs, leaving the clinic behind.

                                                            ***

“So...how’re the Valentinos treatin’ you?”

“Actually, I…puta madre!” she shouted, blasting her hand against the car’s horn as she slammed the brakes to make her disdain loud and clear to the driver who tried to cut her off at the intersection. A litany of insults from the would-be culprit followed, another sound in a cacophony of Heywood’s streets. Maria shook her head, dark locks of her hair shaking with the movement like a swarm of angry bees. “I left.”

“And here I was thinking the position of the family’s black sheep was already taken.”

“Don’t ever think you’re the special one just because you shuffle cards for the big guys.”

“Oh, I could never. So what do you do now?”

“Independent. It took a while, but a friend got me hooked up with some reliable fixers.”

“A “friend”? Don’t tell me that on top of everything, you got yourself a man. Or a woman?”

Maria shot him a warning glare. “It’s nothing like that. Jackie just helped me get back on my feet, introduced me to some people. I’ve been fending for myself since then.”

“And how’s that working out for you?”

“Way better than for you. The hell did you do to piss off your corporate overlords?”

“All I can say for now is that you can leave Heywood, but Heywood never leaves you. Took one too many risks and all it did was land me before the one and only Akio Fukuzawa, who apparently doesn’t take kindly to humbled employees when his eddies are missing.”

“And yet here you are, still alive.”

“What can I say? I’m a charming guy.”

They spent the rest of the car ride in silence, Maria’s eyes fixed on the road, maroon painted nails tapping on the steering wheel in the rhythm of whatever was playing on the radio while Sanny pretended to be mesmerized by whatever they were passing on their way, in reality pulling up his comms interface to scroll through all the text messages he sent to fixers before the damn virus made it impossible to see straight. Almost all of them were left on read and unanswered. Sanny presumed they were bound to remain so. He didn’t have the reputation necessary to land any of the bigger contracts and no time to build it up before Fukuzawa’s minions showed up on his doorstep.

They parked in front of his building, mere centimeters away from bumping into a lampost. Sanny choked down a sigh. There was no escaping it now.

“Thanks, hermana. I owe you one,” he uttered, motioning to get out of the car. Just as he pushed the door open, his comms chimed with a text message from an unknown number. Getting out of the car, he waved to dismiss it, thinking it must be another of those spam chains that’d been flooding his inbox from time to time, but froze halfway through when his eyes landed on the text. The contract was vague on details, but the reward was crystal clear. Sanny could almost feel his jaw dropping as he looked at the impressive number of zeros that followed the first digit. It should be enough. More than enough to pay Fukuzawa off, even if, as per the fixer’s demand, he’ll have to cut the amount in half and share with a partner. He was so dumbfounded he didn’t hear Maria’s reply, or if she replied at all, but when he turned back one last time, she was eying him from head to toe suspiciously. Then she just shook her head slightly as if shushing away a thought.

“And Sanny?” she said, rolling down her window and shooting him a glare from behind her shades. “don’t you dare fuck my ripperdoc.”

[trashfor-imagines]

My Senpai | 4

Ushijima x Reader

Summary: You’re Goshiki Tsutomu’s older doting sister, second year at Shiratorizawa and captain of the girl’s track & field team. At your brother’s first practice you sneak in to support him and end up meeting the impressive force that is his captain. Warnings: None really. Mentions sex. Spoilers: We’re encroaching on manga territory. Takes place after Karasuno v Shiratorizawa.

Author’s Note: Sorry for not updating in forever! I lost my original chapter and got discouraged. I started rewatching Ushijima episodes to refresh my grasp on his character.

[1] | [2] | [3] | [4] | [5]

-

It was a shock. You never thought Shiratorizawa was capable of losing this year. Ushijima appeared unaffected, but that was just him. It was always mental for him and he had the ability to act with a sort of chivalric grace whenever faced with conflict. God, your boyfriend was really cool. Your brother, however, it broke your heart to see him cry.

After the award ceremony, you raced down to wait by the bus. Ushijima walked out first, his head held high. Noticing you, he simply rested his large hand on your head before getting on the bus. Quiet hello’s and thanks for coming’s were whispered to you. Your little brother could barely make eye contact, the last one to get on the bus. Reaching for his hand, you gave it a squeeze before letting it go and heading for the bus that brought the cheer squad.

The ride felt long. You spent most of it listening to music and playing with the sleeve of Ushijima’s spare team jacket he’d given you shortly after dating. You smiled and chatted occasionally with your fellow students, but the topics of discussion were focused on how Ushijima and the third years were doing. They expected you to have the answers and quite frankly, you thought it was obvious.

Getting back, you made your way into the gym to see the team working on serves. You sat quietly on the sidelines and watched as everyone gave their all, letting out their frustrations from the day. You never knew you could find the slams of volleyballs to be comforting to where they could put you to sleep. Or maybe you were just exhausted. Either way, you woke up from being carried.

“Wakatoshi,” you mumbled, snuggling closer to his chest.

The two of you snuck into your dorm room, stripping down into your underwear and entangling under the sheets. Ushijima’s body was like a radiator, warm and comforting.You ran your fingers through his hair patiently. If he wanted to talk, then he would. Until then, you whispered little praises to him, pressing kisses to his shoulder between sentences.

“I won’t lose again,” he spoke quietly.

Months passed and things continued to go well between the two of you. They were better than ever honestly. During Christmas you visited each other’s families at his request. You didn’t even have to prompt it! Your parents loved him. They thought he was quite the protector type and approved. His mother ended up accepting you once she realized you were intelligent and genuinely loved her son. Your personality had definitely thrown her for a loop.

Graduation was soon approaching and the two of you decided on a five year plan together. Long nights were spent discussing goals and dreams, wondering if they would be compatible with one another. He intended on going pro right after school; the Schweiden Adlers seemed most likely and they were based in Oita. You still had your third year of high school to finish, but you were applying to Kyushu University for architecture. It was in Fukuoka and closer than your other options to Oita. It was just a couple of hours by train or car. You also had plans to stick with track and field and keep your spot on the national team for as long as you could. You both had your eyes on the 2016 Olympics.

For a year the two of you managed to maintain a healthy long distance relationship.

After graduation, there were farewell and congratulatory parties almost every day, but the most fun for you was going apartment hunting, together. It was like a vacation, enjoying the beaches and hot springs. You spent a week staying at his apartment where the lease was ending soon. He said the two of you needed a new place together, that his current apartment wasn’t fitting enough for you. On your third day in Oita, Ushijima decided on the place, a 2 bed and 1.5 bath townhome instead of a one and one apartment. When you told him it was a bit expensive, he said it was perfect because he wanted you to have your own space at home to study for school without being bothered by him. You cried right there and he handled it like a champ. The two of you moved in a week before you started school.

“Wakatoshi!” you called to him from the rooftop terrace. He appeared, sticking his head out from the sliding glass door. You wiped your cheek, smudging dirt across your face. “Can you help me move this bag?”

He slipped on his outdoor shoes and walked over, lifting the bag of dirt and moving it to one of the two raised garden beds that he built earlier today. The two of you had plans for a small vegetable garden. “I thought we were going to plant seeds after lunch. I’m almost done cooking.”

“I know, I just got really excited. I was staring at your beautiful work and couldn’t help myself,” you cooed, giving him starry eyes.

Sighing, he set the bag down where you needed it before taking your hand and dragging you back inside. “We’ll do this after lunch. Together.”

“Aw, are you jealous I tried to start before you?” He didn’t say anything in response, making you grin. “My handsome farmer, I’m so sorry.”

After lunch, the two of you filled the garden beds with dirt and carefully planted seeds for carrots, lettuce, tomatoes, peas, basil, parsley, rosemary, thyme, marigolds, lavender, and scarlet plume celosia. Ushijima had done quite a bit of research on complimentary plants. Hours really. Hours spent doing online research and drawing diagrams of how the garden should be set up for its fullest potential.

You were watering one of the garden beds when you caught a glimpse of Ushijima squatting with a spade in his hand. It was so cute how concentrated he was and how much attention he was giving this simple task. Biting your lip, you sprayed him briefly. He blinked, as if not comprehending what happened and looked up, as if blaming the sky. A muffled laugh escaped you. You went back to watering the garden bed as he went inside. Minutes later you heard the glass door slide open and didn’t pay much mind to it. Suddenly you felt chilled and were thoroughly soaked. Moving your hair from your eyes, you looked up to see your boyfriend holding a bucket over your head.

“Wakatoshi!”

Soon you were off to university, moving into a small dorm room with a single suitcase. Your dorm was littered with photographs of you and Ushijima and it was hard to cope with the fact that you wouldn’t see him through at least the rest of summer, maybe not even until the end of September if your school’s track team did well.

For a month you and Ushijima would call or FaceTime every night and tell each other about your days. He was quite proud of the garden the both of you planted and would send you progress photos and then describe what he saw in fine detail. Honestly, you didn’t realize your boyfriend was capable of being so invested in something other than volleyball. There were a few times you tried spicing up your phone calls, but honestly Ushijima didn’t get it. He was terrible at phone sex. It was fine though. Summer break was.... just a few months away.

It was a Saturday night after track practice when you got a phone call from your boyfriend.

“Wakatoshi! You’re calling early. I haven’t gotten back to my dorm yet,” you spoke, excited to hear from him.

“(Y/N), I’m lost.”

Your brows raised in surprise. “Lost, how? Do you need me to look up how to fix something?”

“No, I’m somewhere on your university’s campus.”

You felt your heart skip and you immediately ran toward main campus. “Okay well tell me what you see.”

In thirty minutes you were in your dorm taking a shower and Ushijima was reading the newest shonen jump he picked up at the train station on your bedroom floor. You came out with your hair in a towel and one of Ushijima’s t-shirts you had stolen. He set aside his magazine and pulled you down into his lap, holding you tight.

“I’m so surprised you came. I’m so happy,” you squealed, burying your face into his neck and running your fingers through his hair.

“I missed you too. I can stay for two days, but then I must go home.”

Pulling back, you let your fingers run over the stubble on his jaw, pouting a bit, “So what do I owe this short visit?”

His stare was intense and a faint blush kissed his cheeks. “I recognize that a few times you’ve tried to... initiate some things on the phone. I admit I’m not very good at it, so hopefully my presence now can make up for my... lack of experience.”

“Wakatoshi,” you breathed out in surprise, gazing at him with so much love. He literally traveled almost three hours because you were horny without him. Pulling the towel from your hair, you knocked him over onto his back as you jumped him.

Visits like these happened sporadically and soon it was fall. Track and field season was over which meant you could make your weekend visits home to Oita. You’d leave Wednesday nights and head back to school on Sunday mornings. Despite the second bedroom serving as a private study for you, you found yourself curling up to Ushijima almost always - as long as he wasn’t busy.

This was life for a couple of years. The two of you had become quite the duo. In fact, throughout your relationship, you had only argued about two things:

You broke your phone once and he wasn’t able to contact you and he freaked out from not knowing what was going on.

He forgot your anniversary and cancelled on your date for volleyball and you laid in on him for it.

Things were great until the 2016 Olympic qualifiers came around. You had broken a metatarsal in your right foot at the first qualifying meet of the 2015 season. You were out for the next eight weeks and even then, you weren’t going to be in shape to qualify because you had to go through physical therapy and get your athletic abilities up to par. Your coach told you that staying on the national team, going pro, and qualifying for 2020 was still possible for you. It didn’t stop the feeling of complete and total devastation that wrecked you and you were jealous.

Ushijima wasn’t sure of how to help you; he’d never seen you so vulnerable before, never seen you so sad, but he did his best to support you, even if that meant being a punching bag. He was consistent, despite things he had going on for his own Olympic goals.

After two months it was summer break. You had to go through physical therapy and you moved back home to Oita, transitioning to online classes for the second term of the year. Because Ushijima’s love language was different from most, you found yourself being forced to do your PT homework exercises, no matter how down and bratty you got.

“Wakatoshi, I don’t want to do stairs,” you groaned, curling up into a ball on the couch.

“You must, or you won’t be ready to start training any time soon,” he replied simply.

Your foot was throbbing and you were on your period, and everything just felt like shit. All you wanted was to watch anime and eat the small bag of chips you had hidden under the blanket you were under. Ushijima had been so strict with your diet and honestly all you wanted were trans fats, sugar, and carbs. With ease, he ripped the blanket from you, exposing you in your underwear clutching a bag of Calbee honey butter flavored potato chips.

“You should get up and walk the stairs now,” he said, prying the bag of chips from your hands, “if you want these back.”

Throwing your legs over the couch, you winced, balling your hands into fists in frustration. You got up, favoring your left foot, which he noticed. He walked up the stairs and sat on the top step, waiting for you to follow. Biting your lip, you moved slowly, trying to ignore the pain. There were 14 steps to the top and you had to go up twice and down twice. You were doing fine until your second trek up the stairs. It was a misstep and you slipped and you were clinging to the stair case, crying. It was embarrassing for you to be like this in front of him. This sweet giant quickly enveloped you in his arms and had you lying on your side of the bed, gently caressing your foot as you sobbed through it.

When you were calm again, Ushijima left for a while before returning, dinner in hand. The two of you sat in bed and had the meal he made in silence. You’d barely eaten, but you waited until he finished before you curled up to his side.

“I’m so sorry, Wakatoshi.”

“I would be surprised it you took this easily. You’re a competitive person. It’s one of the things I find attractive about you,” he replied. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders, his fingers gently running up and down along your own arm.

“Really?” you asked, feeling shy. He hummed in affirmation, glancing down to make eye contact. Smiling, you played with the hem of his shirt that was beginning to ride up. “What else do you... find attractive about me?”

“You’re thoughtful, kind. The way you pursue your passions and you’ve encouraged me to pursue my own; you believe in people wholeheartedly.” A thoughtful expression settled on his face as he spoke on effortlessly. He paused and his brows furrowed briefly before settling into a relaxed expression. “You’re beautiful.”

Placing a kiss to your forehead, you watched as he got up and headed to take his evening shower.

While you couldn’t compete, you concentrated on therapy and school and finished your courses early for your degree. You picked up a simple class to stay enrolled until your four years at school were up*, this way you could go back to competing your last year of university. The summer of 2016, Ushijima took you with him to Brazil. Japan didn’t win, but the competition was incredible. You got to meet with track and field athletes and it reignited your passion for competition.

You’d graduate come spring and then your focus was on 2020 Tokyo.

-

*In Japan, early graduation doesn’t exist. It was explained to me that if you attend a 4 year university, you have to be a student for 4 years before graduating, even if you complete your degree early.

tag list: @hihiq​