#i WILL put this on your dash five hundred times I am and always will be emo about it

[righteousruin]

[lordprettyflackotara]

fill the void || fred weasley

SMUT. MINORS DNI. 18+

It felt odd in a way, being alone for the first time.

Usually you were surrounded by your fellow Slytherins, the smell of cigarettes and cologne something your nostrils had grown accustomed to. The sound of vicious insults or bitter rants making a nest in your ears. The sight of scowls with liquor in their hands, their knuckles typically bruised and bloody.

But right now, all of that was gone. The air in the courtyard was clean, the breeze blowing past you providing you with the smell of the earth. Your sights were centered on a giant oak tree, as well as the moon that dimly illuminated the area below. It was an odd change, your surroundings being so settled. You couldn’t help but wonder what you would’ve become if you hadn’t been placed in Slytherin. Maybe yellow would’ve suited you better.

It wasn’t that you despised your housemates, even if they were a group of misfit toys. Mattheo protected you, Theo tutored you, Draco was always glued to your side. It wasn’t them that troubled you. It was what wearing the sickening shade of green meant. Submission to the dark lord. Following the ideology of pureblood nonsense. Especially being one of the only prominent girls, there was always the lingering question who’d you marry and reproduce with.

Yuck.

“Am I interrupting?”

You didn’t need to turn around. You’d recognize a Weasley’s voice anywhere. “Unfortunately not,” You admitted. You hated to admit you knew which Weasley twin it was, a lanky Fred Weasley plopping down beside you on the concrete steps. He stretched out his long legs, mere inches separating both of you. “Is there a reason you’re perched out here instead of doing shots with your friends?” Fred asked. How could you explain why? Oh yes, I am having an existential crisis because of the fact my dress is emerald. Want to go inside and split a chocolate frog?

“Where’s your other half? Didnt think you two separated,” You quipped, brushing off his question. Fred took the hint, leaning back on his hands. “Currently snogging Angelina Johnson,” He answered. This caught your attention, your head snapping to look over at him. “The chaser that wiped the floor with Blaise last season?” You asked. Sometimes you forgot how small this dreaded University actually was. Fred nodded, shrugging. “Aggressive on and off the field, just the way George likes em,” He replied.

You snorted. “Ahh yes. Makes sense a Weasley would enjoy being slutted out,” You snickered. It was too easy of a jab. Fred began to man spread, his long legs in your personal bubble. “I wouldn’t be so hasty little serpent. A few of us know how to put a brat in their place,” He smirked. The cocky motherfucker winked, heat dashing across your cheeks. You must be in a different dimension. There’s no bloody way a Weasley made you blush. “You’re cute when you blush,” Fred praised. He couldn’t help but notice how good you looked in the moonlight, the beams highlighting your features.

“Are you complimenting me Weasley?” You questioned. You avoided his gaze, trying to ignore the fact your heart skipped a beat. “Obviously not, i’m flirting with you,” Fred replied, unable to control the smile creeping across his lips. You were just so easy to tease. “What makes you think you can flirt with me?” You asked, turning your head to look over at the ginger. He shrugged, meeting your firey gaze with ease. “Perhaps it’s because we’re in the same boat, sitting out here alone in a bloody courtyard while the yule ball is less than five hundred feet away,” Fred explained. You audibly scoffed. “Weasley’s can’t afford a boat,” You spat.

Fred chuckled at your insult, your venom harmless to him. “Considering you’re out here I think it’s safe to say your boat has sank. Guess we’re on the same island together then,” He replied. You couldn’t help but find his facial expression smug. “Great,” You grumbled. You rested your chin on your knees, contemplating your life decisions. Fred sighed. “Well, if my presence really isn’t that valued i’ll relocate,” He said. He began to rise to his feet, your body doing a one eighty. You didn’t realize your hand was gripping his wrist until it was, desperately holding him in place.

“Sit down Weasley. I-,” You paused, looking up at the ginger. “I’d prefer it if you stayed.”

Fred grinned down at you mischievously, resuming his place beside you. “Figured you’d say that. Just wanted to hear you say it,” He gloated. You slapped his arm. “You’re unbearable. You know that don’t you?” You grumbled. Fred couldn’t help but laugh. Your annoyance was adorable. “You seem to like it,” He replied. You frowned as he stood up in front of you. “Do not,” You argued.

“Do too.”

“Do not!”

Fred extended his hand in front of you. The faint sound of classical music could be heard over the stillness, the wind having faded out. “Care to dance?” He asked. The choice was standing right in front of you, demanding an answer. You could say no and continue moping on the stairs. You could say no and go back inside, all eyes on you once again. Or you could say yes, potentially having a good time with a boy you didn’t belong with. Dancing with a Weasley? Draco would have a field day with this one. But Fred’s hand never looked more appealing than it did in that moment.

Hesitantly you took his hand, allowing him to bring you to your feet. Even in heels he easily towered over you, the ginger not hesitating to bring you close to his chest. “You know you can drop the bad girl act with me, I won’t tell,” Fred said, guiding you back and forth. You were an awkward dancer, despite the endless ballroom dancing classes your parents put you through. “It’s not an act,” You argue. Fred looked down at you, his face painted like he knew you. Like he could see right through your hollow shell.

“Sure it isn’t. And i’m not the best prankster in Hogwarts,” He quipped. You slowly spun you around, giving you time to catch up as you almost tripped in your heels. “You’ve really got quite an ego, don’t you Weasley?” You asked. Fred grinned as he pulled you back close to him. “Thats a bit hypocritical, don’t you think?” He asked. You glared up at him. “I think not,” You argued. Even though your words were laced with venom, you couldn’t deny how much you enjoyed his touch.

So gentle but so assertive, guiding you. Your mind strayed away, imagining him guiding you a different way. Guiding you to take his cock, to ride him until the sun came up. “Hey? Are you listening little serpent?” Fred asked, his voice coming back into frame. You blinked a few times, trying to regain your composure. “Sorry, what?” You asked. Fred slowly guided the dance to a stop, the song ending. You couldn’t help but wish it’d last forever. “I was asking what you’re thinking about,” He said.

You could feel yourself turning red, your filthy thoughts flooding to the forefront of your mind. You felt tongue tied, unable to confess your dirty fantasies. “Ohh, I see,” Fred said. You couldn’t bear to look at him in the eye, embarrassed enough to be in this position. You felt his slender fingers slide under your chin, guiding you to look up at him. You allowed him to guide you, his eyes boring into yours. You liked that, allowing him to guide you. Even if he was supposed to be bad for you, his touch put you on cloud nine.

“Do you like that? When I guide you? Take control?” Fred asked, his voice dropping an octave lower than before. You could’ve dropped to your knees in an instant. “Maybe I do,” You replied, not wanting to cave, not just yet. Fred leaned down further, pressing his lips against yours. His lips were warmer than you thought they’d be, filling the void inside of you. The void that craved approval and validation. His lips provided all of that and more. He guided you towards the giant oak tree, pinning you against it.

The sharp bark scraped at your back, a groan escaping your lips as Fred’s refused to stray from yours. You raked your hands throw his hair, pulling at the roots roughly. Fred whined into your mouth, smirking as he pulled away. “Cute,” He murmured. His eyes flickered behind you, ensuring no one was around. “As much as i’d love to make you squirm, we can’t do much here,” He whispered. You pulled him back to your lips, sliding your tongue into his mouth. You couldn’t get enough, your body craving him.

“That eager, are we?” Fred asked, pulling you back in for another kiss. You gently bit his bottom lip, pulling it towards you. “Fuck me, at the very least Weasley,” You ordered weakly, your body betraying the attempt at dominance you were spewing. Fred grinned mischievously. “Turn around for me pretty girl,” He purred. You did as asked, his large hands pushing you against the tree. You could hear the clinking of his belt, your core throbbing in anticipation.

His large hands pushed up your dress, pulling your panties to the slide. “You’re lucky we’re in the courtyard, otherwise i’d make you beg and scream for me to fuck you,” Fred purred. You felt his tip brush up and down your folds, a moan escaping your lips. One of Fred’s hands flew to your mouth. “Gotta keep quiet little serpent. Dont want anyone to hear you being a whore for a Weasley, do you?” He taunted. He pushed himself inside of you slowly, your body feeling like it may split in two.

“You’re fuckin soaked for me,” Fred mused, placing a sloppy kiss against your shoulder. Your moans were muffled by his hand, your walls struggling to accommodate his size. “I’m bigger than Malfoy aren’t I?” He asked teasingly as he bottomed out inside of you. You grabbed onto his wrist, yanking it away from your mouth. “In your dreams Weasley,” You spat, whimpering as he bucked his hips ever so slightly. Fred began to suck at the side of your neck, harsh enough to leave a hickey. “Dont leave marks on me,” You argued, moaning as he began to thrust into you. Fred released your neck with a pop, satisfied as the skin began to turn purple.

“Whys that? Afraid your boy toys will find out you’ve let me in between your legs?” Fred asked, beginning to pick up the pace. His pace was brutal, his hand flying back over your mouth to muffle your sinful noises. “When they ask tell them. Tell them how I ruined you. How a Gryffindor made you cum in a courtyard like a dog in heat,” Fred huffed. He continued to viciously snap his hips into yours, his cock abusing your g spot with each thrust. You moaned his name into his hand, gripping one of his wrist and the tree for support.

“You’re so fucking tight, so perfect,” Fred groaned into your neck, his breath hot against your skin. He removed his hand from your mouth, his hands taking their rightful place on your hips. “I’m going to make you cum on my cock. You understand me? You’re going make a mess for me,” Fred ordered. His orders were hypnotizing, your legs beginning to shake as he held onto the fabric of your dress. You could feel the knot inside of you tighten, a familiar feeling coming.

“Please make me cum Freddie, fucking please,” You pleaded, your orgasm coming faster than you’d like to admit. Fred chuckled, fucking you mercilessly against the tree. “There she is, there’s my sweet whore. Go on, cum for me,” He panted. You squeezed his wrist tightly as you came, euphoria washing over you as you came on his shaft. Your legs trembled, threatening to give out on you at any moment. You felt Fred’s hips stutter, the ginger pulling out of you.

He guided you onto the ground, your bare knees hitting the dirt below. You stuck out your tongue, allowing Fred to cum inside of your mouth. “Holy shit,” Fred moaned, watching as you swallowed every last top. You both sat there for a moment, your highs subsiding as you soaked in what you had just done.

“Hey y/n?”

“Yeah?”

“You wanna grab a butterbeer sometime?”

“Shut up Weasley.”

[xxsteveharringtonxx]

Driving For Dummies

Steve Harrington x Reader

Steve wasn’t sure how you managed to rope him into this.

He didn’t let anyone drive his car.

Yet here you were in the driving seat for a change and he was sat next to you, slightly scared for his life and definitely scared for his car.

“Steve you’re meant to be teaching me!” You hissed, eyes unmoving and both hands clasped to the steering wheel. “How do you make this look so easy!” You yelped out as you narrowly dodged someone cycling.

“Jesus Christ sweetheart can you just, just concentrate.” He responded looking nervously over the dash and at the road ahead.

“Well tell me how I’m doing, what am I doing wrong?” You asked frustrated, it was around 8pm the sun only just setting across Hawkins and the breeze through the car was helping you relax.

A little.

“You’re doing great just, ease up a little. You get any closer to the steering wheel you could make out with it.” He told you in a sarcastic tone.

You did relax, your knuckles no longer white from clutching the wheel, knees not so locked up.

Rolling your shoulders back you took a deep breath.

“Think I’m ready for my test?” You asked jokingly and Steve’s scoff made you glare at the empty road ahead of you.

“You are a useless teacher.” You grumbled making him laugh out loud.

“And you are a lousy driver.” His tone was teasing but made you want to hit him nonetheless. “How have you made it to twenty four without a license anyway?” He quizzed as he fiddled with the radio station.

“I’ve always had you to drive me.” Your tone was sickly sweet, and it warmed him to hear you speak of him like that whether it was a joke or not.

He loved that it was true, you did have him, in any way you wanted him truth be told.

He did take you to school, and drop you off, he then took you to work and dropped you back home. He even drove all the way to Chicago a few times to take you back to college or to pick you up when you were home sick.

“Great, I enabled this.” Was his reply instead with a playful eye roll.

Less pathetic.

“You did, and that’s why you have to teach me how to drive. I want my own car without nagging you every five minutes for a ride.” You whined as he finally settled on a station, Foreigner playing one of their soppy love songs he refused to admit he loved.

“What if I love you calling every five minutes for a ride?” Steve asked looking over to you.

“I know you don’t.” You mumbled pulling over to the side of the road. “Can you drive us back please?” You’d asked making him grin.

“If I do am I enabling this habit further?” He asked making you giggle.

“What if I love you enabling my habit?” You joked right back, using his own words against him.

“You look prettier sitting passenger anyway.” He stated and reached over to run his thumb over the crease lines between your eyebrows to soothe them. “You frown when you concentrate.” He added in a softer more gentle tone.

Nothing else was said but you both got out and crossed each other walking round the car to swap sides, his fingers brushed your arm as you did and you drove back through Hawkins in silence.

“How many more lessons do you think I need?” You asked rolling your head onto your shoulder and taking him in.

Sun kissed skin and a slightly red tint on his cheeks suggesting he definitely didn’t put on SPF like he told you he did this morning.

He sent you back an easy smile and wink.

“One hundred, and I’m going to start charging.” Smiling fondly at his words you reached over to poke his cheek.

“It sounds like you want to drive me around forever Harrington.” Your teasing words once again warmed him.

“Let’s test that theory sweetheart.” He finalised pulling up outside the small place he’d bought a year back, the other side of Hawkins to his parents but it suited Steve.

It was small and cozy but it was his and he loved it. He loved it more when you were there, which in all honesty was most of the time, he’d told you a hundred times just to move in but you never officially did.

“Same time again tomorrow?” You asked pushing the door open as his arms wrapped around your waist from his place behind you.

“Hmm maybe.” He offered dropping a soft kiss on the side of your neck.

“Maybe?!” You screeched outraged turning in his arms and wrapping your own around his neck.

“I said I was going to start charging.” He reminded before pouting for another kiss that you reached up to plant on his lips.

“What’s the cost Harrington?” Playing along as he walked you backwards to the sofa.

He pretended to think before kissing you again.

“I can think of a few things.” He purred once more before you were both laying on the couch, Steve hovering over you. “Besides, I think I’m pretty happy driving you around forever.” He informed making you smile up at him.

“Well if that’s the case you don’t need all the kisses in lieu of payment.” You mocked making him shake his head.

“Oh no, no you definitely have to keep kissing me. I might die if you ever stop.” You both laughed at the dramatic turn of his words.

“Well I can’t let that happen can I.”

“Absolutely not.” He scolded kissing you one final time.

Okay, you thought happily.

He can drive you everywhere forever.

[writingcold]

Hello!  Welcome to Chapter Ten!  Last chapter was a bit sad.  We are approaching the end of what I consider to be Act 1 of Bootleggers and Wildflowers.  We’ll be turning a corner at the end of this chapter, so hold tight.  A lot happens.

If you’re just joining us, here is the master list so that you can catch up.

As always, thank you from the very bottom of my heart goes to @lvnterninthenight @gardensgatedaisy and @whitesuitjake for their support.

A special thanks to @thewritingbeforesunrise and @way-to-go-lad for the support you give every week reading my little (not so little) story. Love you guys.

This is a work of fiction, and is totally mine.  Please do not take it for your own personal use.  I’ve put in hours of research, hours upon hours of writing, re-writing, screaming, yelling and vomiting over this epic of a story.  But it is mine.

Content warnings: Arguing, threats of violence.  18+, more mature content.

Word count: approx. 8500  

Chapter Ten: Debt and Realization, Learning, Protection, End of Act 1 - Cora POV

     Cora walked up the hill towards the house, farm register and an envelope full of cash in hand.  Kilbourne sat on the porch, pipe tucked in his meaty hand and a smug smile plastered on his blotchy face.  She needed to survive this and there would be cause for celebration.  Jake promised that they would celebrate together.

     “Whatcha doin’ up here, girl?”  he drawled once her feet touched the steps her father had built.

     She opened the register to the last entry and set the book down on the little table at the man’s side.  “Ninety seven dollars and twenty six cents is the last of my father’s debt to you.  You will find it in here - all of it.  Please count it if that will satisfy you, Mr. Kilbourne.”

     His beady eyes froze on the money before him.  An ugly sound escaped his mouth that made her skin crawl.  She pressed her hands behind her back and tried not to fidget while he greedily counted each bill and coin.  With a snide scoff, he tucked the money back into the envelope.  

     “All right, then,”  he grumbled.  “Now you can start paying off your family debt.”

     Cora froze as the man rose to his feet.   Her insides twisted as he walked into the house only to return with another register.  He held it out for her to take with a smile.  Her stomach churned and threatened to expel due to the man’s vileness.

     “I am unsure of what debt you mean,”  she whispered, opening the book.

     “Rent, each time your family went to town and back in my wagon, water… It’s all there.  You’re smart, right?  At least that's what your father thought of you.  It’s everything that you needed from here, my farm over the past twenty six months.”  

     The ugly laugh that he released made her want to strike him.  

     “We had agreed that rent was deducted from our work for you,”  she said sharply.

     “No, girlie.  You said that,”  he smiled.  “I never agreed to it and your mother knows it.”

     “This is almost five hundred dollars,”  she whispered.

     “Sounds about right,”  he chuckled as he sat himself down once more.

     She could not hide the fury of her anger, nor the tears in her eyes.  He started laughing as she walked away in a daze.  Her heart dragged behind her like a child’s pull toy.  Everything she wanted for her family, for herself, was evaporating before her eyes.  Even with the wage she made in the Tiger, it would be another year before she could pay it all off, plus the current rent and expenses.

     Opening the door to the cottage, she slowly entered to find her mother making the evening's biscuits.  Cora could not hold her stomach any longer.  Dashing back out, she vomited into the grass.  The tears were coming hard and fast. Her body shook with heated anger.  She wiped at her mouth when she heard Matthew step behind her.

     “Cora?”  he asked, reaching out and touching her back.

     Drawing in a hard breath, she steadied herself.  She made eye contact with her brother before going back to find the rest of her family waiting as her mother moved by the woodstove.

     “You knew,”  she whispered.  Clearing her throat, the heat hit her first, followed by the anger that jostled her belly.  “You knew about this and did not tell me.”

     “Knew about what?”  Rosemary asked, stirring the soup and deliberately not looking at her.

     Cora threw the register down on the table with a loud slap.  Her mother’s eyes flicked to her and the book before returning to her task.  There was bitterness in her features.

     “I do not know what you want me to say, Cora.”

     “You made us indentured servants with no way to ever leave this hell, Mama!”

     “Stop,”  her mother warned.

     “No!  I will not stop.  You have killed this family.  Kilbourne has made it so that no matter what - we will always owe him in some manner or other.”

      “I did it so we could survive.”

      “Barely!”  Cora seethed, her skin feeling like it was about to burn away.  “We’re barely surviving.  And that man continues to prey on us because you let him.”

      “We have a roof over our heads, work for our hands and food in our bellies,”  her mother remarked coldly.

     “Scraps and mercy provided by others is what we survive on.  That’s not living.  These boys will be paying for this mistake until that bastard is in the damn ground.”  

     “Cora,”  Rosemary scolded.

     She grabbed the register and her coat, unable to quell the fire in her gut.  She flew out the door to the boys calling after her.  Cora could not stop.  The fury burned into her soul and felt as if it would kill her right there on the trail.  The chill in the Mid-August air did nothing to temper her.  Instead, it compelled her feet to move faster into the night.  She knew it wasn’t fair to put it all on her mother, but she had positioned the family into never being away from the shit heap that was Mr. Kilbourne.

     She reached town in under forty minutes.  Cora went right for the dancehall.  Jacob had said that Saturday night required all of them to be in the hall and the Lantern.  She had no idea of how to get down to the speakeasy except for the hall in the back.  She found it easy to hide as she made her way towards the back corner, swaying with the dancing couples and crowded tables.  As one of the dancing girls made her way out from the dressing room hall, Cora grabbed at the knob and slipped through before anyone could see her.  

     Straightening herself, she took a moment to realize that she was indeed right - the dressing room for the girls was directly up the stairs, while her Tiger was straight down the long hall that moved to her right.  At the head of the stairs going down, however, there was a very stern faced gentleman that had her in his sights.

     “Sorry, miss,”  he said, his voice was rough like it hurt to talk.  “No exit back here.”

     “I need to see Mr. Jacob, please,”  she said quietly.

     The man shook his head.  “Sorry miss.  You won’t find him back here.”

     Rolling her lips in her mouth, she started to shake with the pent up anger.  “Sir, the whole damn family is downstairs.  I need to see Jacob.  Now.  I’m Cora…  I work right down that fucking hallway…  I’m the box manager-”

     Her voice failed as he gave her the strangest look with his hands raised.

    “Give me a moment,”  he replied.  “Stay right there.”

    She watched as he went down the steps, disappearing for a moment.  She wiped at her face, sure she looked destroyed, perhaps a bit wild.  

     “I’m sorry to bother you,”  the man was saying as he was walking back towards her.  “I’m unsure-”

     “Miss Cora,”  Daniel said warmly.  “Marcus, I’ll handle it from here.  Thank you.”

     “Mr. Daniel, please.  I need to see Jacob,”  she insisted as he offered her his handkerchief.  

     He asked nothing of her as he guided her down the stairs, instead offering her a comforting presence for the moment.  He held the door for her to step through.  They had talked about the Lantern, but it was nothing like what she expected.  The jazz band was loud and snappy.  The expanse was lavish, nearly mirroring the dancehall above, with a stage on one end with a place to dance, but a long bar and tables made up most of the space.  The room’s finishes were all expensive and those occupying the tables were, for the most part, all people of means that expected nothing less.

     Cora’s heart clenched to see Jacob at a table with Joshua, dressed eloquently in a black pinstripe suit.  Samuel sat close to Susannah, with his arm draped protectively across the back of her chair.  Molly was on the woman’s other side, chatting away with the biggest smile.  She seemed happy just to have her closest confidant returned to her side.

     The moment seeped into her mind as she glanced down at herself.  She invaded Joshua’s sacred space where reputation was key to his business.  Her presence was wrong.  She knew it the moment that he looked up at her when Daniel had moved to Jacob’s side.  The pinch in the corners of his eyes made her want to disappear like a speck of dust on a pristine table.  Just as she started to step towards the door for a getaway, Jacob was on his feet, eyes trained on her out of concern.  Joshua, however, looked as angry as she had ever seen him.

     “I’m so sorry,”  she was babbling by the time he reached for her.  “Sorry, this was a mistake.”

     “Cora,”  he whispered, arm wrapping around her shoulder.  “Not a mistake.  Let’s just get you out of here.”

     The warmth of him made her want to fold against his chest.  He took her hand, leading her back up the stairs and past Marcus with a smile and a nod.  Instead of the dancehall, he guided her down the narrow hall, past the Tiger and out the back with a key in the heavy bolt lock.  Once outside, he looked back at her as if searching for injury.

      “What happened?  Are you harmed?”  he asked, smoothing her hair back behind her ears.

     “No, not hurt.  Just stupid, apparently,”  she sighed.

     He looked confused.  “What happened?”

     “We can’t celebrate yet,”  she squeaked and was all she was able to manage before it all rushed back at her at once.

     He wrapped her up close with a hard breath.  “Come on.  I’ll make us some coffee.”

     Jacob held her to his side all the way to his home.  Inside, he took her coat before moving back to the kitchen.  Cora watched as he added a few pieces of split wood to the stove, stoking the fire first.  He filled a coffee kettle with water from the tap and set it up on the cooktop to boil.  

     “What happened with Kilbourne?”  he asked.

     “I gave him the last of the debt along with the register to show that we were square,”  she started.  She wrung her hands together, deeply embarrassed to be discussing this with anyone, let alone Jacob.  “He then gave me this.”

     His eyes went to the dark brown leather register in her lap.  She licked at her lips as fresh anger prickled in her belly.

     “This is the current debt of what my family owes for rent, for seed, for water, for everything they ever extended to us, regardless of prior arrangements, agreed upon or apparently assumed.”

     “That sick fuck,”  he cursed as he grabbed the book away from her.

     “I’m sorry.  I just didn’t know who else to talk to - where else to go.  If I stayed at home, I was going to say something to my mother that-”

      His words were near silent but Cora could feel the danger that was coiling within.  It was unlike any of the bouts he had shown during her short time in the store.  His face grew like stone as his eyes traced over the entries.  The storm brewing would be a torrent of tornadoes and blizzards combined.

     A calm suddenly breezed in and the air around him seemed to still.  He looked upon her and smiled.  Cora could not help but to feel concerned over his state.   Turning, he stretched for a tin and the percolator basket for the coffee pot.

     “Jacob?”  she asked quietly as he was searching another cabinet.

     “I do not want you to worry about Mr. Kilbourne.  He is a man who needs a man’s touch, and so he will have it,”  he remarked coolly as he set some crackers on a plate.  “I want you to be ready to move into the house on Park street.”

     “I can’t do that if I’m paying-”

     “Just be ready,”  he remarked, his tone firm.

     He dropped the metal basket into the boiling water and put the lid on the kettle.  He paused, waiting for the low thrum of the perk before moving over to the cold storage on the north wall.  He sliced some cheese, eyeing the coffee pot as it sputtered and choked.  He turned and retrieved two cups from the cupboard with saucers.  Back to the cold storage and he produced a small jar of cream.  He grinned a bit as he went to one more cupboard and took out a small covered jar.

      Cora stood up as he started putting everything on a tray.  He enjoyed doing this.  He enjoyed serving those he cared about.  It was evident in the Sunday meals and even this tiny coffee and snack treat, he seemed to take pride in feeding, caring.  He found a towel to wrap around the handle of the coffee pot and poured it into another carafe before finishing his tray.

     “I have some new records.  The victrola is in the front parlor,”  he motioned for her to follow.  “Or, I’m sure I can find something on the radio we could listen to.”

     The parlor was very masculine, lined with heavy bookcases that were filled to the brim with all different authors and organized in no particular order.  The couches were functional while the rugs were dark and adorned with gold and shades of red and black.  There was a piano near the window that her eyes paused on.  Somehow, she could see Samuel sitting there, playing more than any of the other men.  Jacob set the tray on the sideboard before moving to the opposite side with a huge smile.

     “I got these delivered to the shop weeks ago and I’ve not had a chance to listen,”  he said with a glee in his voice she had never heard before.  “This is Fletcher Henderson and his Orchestra.  There’s this trumpet player - Louis Armstrong.  He’s just fantastic.”

     She grinned as she poured out two cups of coffee.  She held up the jar of cream and he nodded.  She held up the small jar that turned out to be sugar cubes.  He held up one finger.  Cora grinned as she stirred his cup before moving towards the deep red velvet of the couch, setting the saucers down on the table.  Retrieving the crackers and cheese, she sat down just as the music sprang to life.  His eyes twinkled as he sat down next to her.  She handed him his cup and saucer as he sat back, eyes closed and already lost in the beat.  

     Like in the movie house, Cora could not look away from the joy he exuded.  This was his love.  This was his passion.  He could shed the hardness that he had to be for the world and allow himself the absolute pleasure of the moment to reside in his skin and show the wonder that it held for him.   She sipped her coffee, absorbing as much as she could as he seemed to see each note and turn of the music.  He wandered out of his haze, looking at her with a shy smile.

     “Do you like it?”  he asked before taking a drink of his coffee.

     She nodded.

     “What is it?”  he asked.

     “I like seeing you when you truly enjoy something.  I like seeing you like this.”

     He took her cup and set both down before standing up and offering his hand to her.  “Dance?”

     She grinned as he fitted his frame up against her.  He pressed a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth before he started to move them.  She lost herself in his gaze.  Her heart was swelling with her as her words and thoughts started to stitch together a want that had lingered in the back of her mind since the night in Susannah’s kitchen.  She leaned forward, kissing him until he let her suck in his bottom lip.  She could taste the coffee, tobacco and whiskey.  All marks of him.  Her core fluttered as the stitched together thoughts itched at her brain, begging her to let them out.  He brushed a finger down her cheek, flashing a crooked smile before he leaned back into her.  This time, he tasted her mouth, pressing his tongue into her, deeply kissing her and sending the shock through her system.

      “Jacob,”  she whispered against his cheek.  “Teach me to touch you.”

      He cursed softly before kissing her hard.  He brought his hand up to cradle her face.  She struggled to stay in step, forcing herself to not yank herself away as he robbed her of her senses.  Fighting her way back, she forced her confidence to the fore, bringing her hands around and down the lapels of his vest.  She felt the edge of each button with her fingertip, pushing them open.  

     He broke the kiss to look down at her hands.  Cora took the moment to tug at the suspenders across his shoulders, sliding first one, then the other so that they hung at his sides.  He captured her fingers, stilling them in her work as she reached for the tie at his neck.  She tried to kiss him again, but Jacob moved away.  She tried to step back from him, but he kept her in place.  His eyes studied her for a long moment.  

     Jacob took her hand and moved towards the stairs of the second level.  Cora had not seen the upstairs.  This was personal space for all four men of the house.  At the top of the stairs, they walked to the north corner.  He stood at the open door to allow her to pass.  She did not hesitate to walk into the dark room, pausing only to allow her eyes to adjust to the soft electric lamp glow when he snapped it on.  

     There was a large, four poster bed of wood that was stained dark that dominated the room.  The dressing table, dresser and wardrobe all matched in the same blackened wood.  Cora allowed her fingers to drift over the satiny finish of the intricately carved footboard of the bed.  A good sized fireplace was on the inside wall and another door was caddy corner to the entrance, leading to a washroom.  

      She watched as he closed the door behind him.  Jacob’s face was quiet as he turned back to her.  Instead of going to him, she walked around his room, her eyes moving over the pieces that were his, that he chose to keep close to himself.  There were framed photographs on his dressing table that drew her.  One of him standing with Joshua when times seemed to be much easier, perhaps when they were in their early teens.  The easy smiles and love was so apparent.  Next to that, was a man and woman who could only be his parents.  It was easy to see each feature blended to create the man that stood behind her.  A third picture was more recent, perhaps prior to being in Kingsford, standing in front of a familiar sign that marked the Kiszka Wagner Mercantile with Joshua and Jacob on Sam and Daniel’s flanks.  They were stone faced, each of them.  Their dark eyes were hard as if the task before them was not going to be easy.

      She felt him move across the room as her finger slid down the edge of the last picture.  This was how she had first seen him.  The seriousness that played in his eyes.  The gravity that pulled at her from behind and the beauty of his younger picture made her smile.  He touched her shoulder, a silent whisper for her attention.  

      “These were from home?”  she asked, voice soft.

      “This was in Frankenmuth,”  he answered, pointing at the younger picture.  “We were about fifteen there.  And that one was in Detroit.  Nearly three years ago now.”

      She looked at him over her shoulder.  He pressed a kiss to her temple, his hand cupping her cheek as she turned towards him.  Cora continued her work, untying the tie before unbuttoning the shirt until it met the edge of his pants.  All the while, he watched on.  His eyes gentle, his mouth still.  Her fingers dipped just into the ridge of the pants to unbutton them and untuck the shirt.  He released a soft breath as she lifted her gaze to meet his for a moment before she unfastened the rest of the buttons to remove the shirt completely.  She took it from him and walked away, hoping that he would follow.  She lay it across the foot of the bed, listening for his footfall behind her.  Turning, she found him inches away, his mouth moving towards hers.  He kissed her deeply as he brought his hands to hers, threading the fingers together the way he had the night in Susannah’s kitchen.  He looped her hands back behind him, placing them directly on his bottom.  He squeezed a bit as he shoved his tongue deep within her mouth.  He exhaled softly as she followed suit, more firmly as he bought his own hands around to grab the edge of his undershirt.  He leaned back for only a moment to rip the garment up over his head before returning back to her kiss.  

      He moaned as her fingertips slid a bit between his legs.  She smiled at the discovery and repeated the motion with her pointer fingers, finding the crease between his bottom and thighs.  His skin felt hot through the fabric of her dress.  She felt her own breath quicken as his hand came down onto her clothed breast.  She wanted him to touch her again.  She reached back, unhooking the latch on the back of the blue number.  He was quick to lower the zipper to allow the garment to pool at her feet.  She stepped out of her shoes as he followed suit.  Quickly he tugged her around the other side of the bed palming her hip and breast as he lowered his pants. 

     They slid onto the bed together.  He lay flat, guiding her into the hollow at his side.  He took her hand, planting it onto the middle of his chest.  She rose up, eyes on him as she leaned into his kiss once more.  He moved their hands down, crossing his belly and onto the outside of his underpants.  He undid the tiny button to allow the flap to fall open.  Beneath her hand, she felt him, felt his length, his width, him.  He breathed out hard as she pressed her palm to him through the fabric.  He was not totally hard, but growing.  She had to see, had to see what she was feeling.  It was not like she did not know what she was looking at - she had changed the boy’s diapers and potty trained them, but this was the first time she had seen a man.  She could not help the sigh that escaped her, nor the need to lick at her lip.  He smirked as she looked back at him.

      “You like what you see, Cora?”  he asked, his voice a ragged whisper.

      She nodded as he drew himself out of his breeches.  He held out his hand for her.  Once more, he guided her, wrapping her fingers around him, giving a light squeeze at the base, only to bring up gently to the head, squeezing again before moving back down.  She listened to how his breath grew heavy and quick as she moved with him until he let go of her hand to allow her to explore.  He brought his hand up to touch her face, and plant a heated kiss on her mouth.  But it was brief, she wanted to see what she was doing to him, not hide her eyes with kisses.  His lip dropped as she turned her gaze back to his cock.  He reached for her breast, sliding his fingers into the slip, brushing against her sensitive nipple, giving it a pinch that she was not ready for.  She yelped but he was quick to smooth it with a hot palm.  She could feel her own want pooling between her thighs as his dick began to weep.  He reached down, bringing her hand up, collecting the thick moisture across her palm only to continue the up and down pump, this time a little bit rougher, faster.  

      “May I touch you?”  he asked.

      She leaned forward, blocking his hand.  “I’m learning you.”

      He hummed as she lowered her chin to his chest, her mouth brushing across his peck.  She was rewarded with a sound she was not expecting - pleasure.  She planted small kisses across the muscles of his chest, eliciting soft coos and whines.  His fingers threaded into her hair, unwinding the braids until her hair became free in waves against him.

     “So beautiful,”  he whispered as the perfume that had been caught in her hair wove through the air around them.  “I have imagined what your hair looks like loose.”

      She looked up at him.  He beckoned for her to kiss him once more as he once again took her hand in his, taking control over how she was pumping him.  She felt his jaw clench and quickly turned as their hands moved beyond the back, brushing over his balls then back up, rounding the tip to slide back down.  His eyes were starting to grow heavy.  His mouth was becoming slack as they moved faster, tighter against him.  His breath caught as he tipped his head back.  Cora’s gaze froze as he came, his face beautiful to her as he gasped and smiled and blew out a held breath before leaning for her to kiss her deeply.  Her heart thundered in her chest.  She had brought him pleasure and it radiated it outward from him, consuming her in a way that she had not expected.

      He helped her up off the bed and led her to the washroom off his room.  She rinsed her hands while he washed his body.  She smiled at him softly, taking in his sudden shyness. 

     “I should get you over to Susannah’s,”  he whispered, looking at her through the mirror.

     “And if I say I don’t want to go to Susannah’s?”  she asked as she turned towards him, hands drifting across his bare shoulders.  “I want to stay here.  With you.”

     His sleepy eyes drifted closed for a long moment as he stepped closer to her, fitting their bodies together.  He slow-stepped her back to the bed, pushing the covers back and dragging them both in.  She sighed as he brushed her hair back, tangling it around his fingers to brush across it with the pad of his thumb. 

     “I’ll stay until you fall asleep,”  he sighed, pressing little kisses under her eyes.  

     “I want you to stay-”

     “And risk my reputation as a gentleman?”  he snickered.  “I’ll stay until you are asleep.  I won’t be far.”

     “Why?  Why won’t you stay?”

     “Because once I’m able to have you at my side all the time,”  he whispered into her hair, “I won’t ever let you go.  I don’t want to have to send you back to your mother’s.  I don’t want to have to send you to Susannah’s, or anywhere other than with me.”

Chapter Ten: Pt. 2, Jacob

     Jacob waited until midday on Tuesday to drive out to the Kilbourne farm.  He parked in front of the cottage and was greeted by Jon and Georgie who were reading under the large maple tree.

     “Cora’s in town,”  Georgie said, his eyes full of sparkle.

     Jon’s face was a little more cautious.  “She’s all well, right?”

     “She’s fine, Mr. Jonathan.  I’m here to speak with Mr. Kilbourne,”  Jacob said with a nod.  “You’re doing your studies?”

    Jon nodded, but Georgie pouted.  “I’m tired of this book.  Cora says I have to read it anyway.”

     Jacob smiled.  “Well, if she says you have to, then I would.  I’m sure there’s something even better on the horizon.  Besides, I don’t think you want her mad.  It might be scary.”

     Jon laughed with a nod.  Jacob got the boys started again before walking towards the barn.  He caught sight of Matthew and Rosemary out in the field, taking down hay.  Kilbourne was standing by the thresher, his back to Jacob.  Fighting the urge to rush the man and push his bug eyed face into the engine, he instead walked forward, hands clenching and unclenching.

     “Mr. Kilbourne,”  Jacob called as he drew closer.

     “That be me,”  the man replied but made no effort to move from his place over the engine.

     “I’m Jacob Kiszka.  I’d like to speak with you privately if I may.”

     The man glanced over his shoulder at him.  Jacob noticed that the engine had thrown a belt, causing it to snap.  The man was trying to melt the ends to create a new seam.

     “This is as private as I get,”  the farmer scoffed.

     “All right then.  I wish to speak to you about the Janas debt,”  he said, moving to the other side of the machine, so as to look the man in the eye.

     “Not your business,”  Kilbourne remarked with a huff.

     “It is, actually,”  He opened the leather register so that the man could see what he was doing.  “I had the privilege of seeing Mr. Janas’ debt register before Miss Janas paid you off.”

     Kilbourne seemed like he was ignoring the conversation, with the exception of how the very tops of his cheeks seemed to warm

     “I found it interesting so I went to both the bank and the county registry clerk’s office to verify land values and to my surprise, you underestimated the cost of the Janas acreage by more than half.”

     “I was going off prices of when the debt was incurred, not current market-”

     Jacob whistled through his teeth.  “Then you were really off, by almost two-thirds.”  

     He continued to explain the total cost of debt incurred, even with interest would have settled ninety percent of the debt with the land values of when the debt was first accrued.  The value of the house and surrounding non-farm acre covered the remaining ten percent, indeed overpaying the farmer by eight hundred and forty nine dollars.

     “So, according to this new register, the family owes you four hundred eighty seven dollars,”  Jacob continued, despite the man’s complexion turning blotchy.  “Doing the simple math here, Mr. Kilbourne, it is not the Janas family that owes you money, but the other way around.  Three hundred and sixty two dollars to be exact.  And in regards to the payments that they have been making to you in the form of labor over the past twenty six months, going off fair wages for women that is, two sets of hands at a dollar a day, each, for twenty two months, as Cora went to work for my family store in May, comes out to one thousand, four hundred and fifty eight dollars, plus another four months of wages for Rosemary, brings that total to one thousand, five hundred and seventy eight dollars.  The grand total of your debt to the Janas family is one thousand, nine hundred and forty dollars, sir.”

     “I don’t owe them shit,”  Kilbourne bleated.  “Those spoiled-”

     “Are you sure you want to travel this path, sir?”  Jacob cut in, his voice low and threatening.  “I want you to consider.  My family owns the general store that sells your dairy products.  We have majority stock in the butcher shops you sell your beef from.  We are invested with the other businessmen of this community as well as the surrounding towns.  One word from my family, and you are done in this entire region.”

     “Just because you’re fuckin’ that little one, doesn’t mean you have the right to talk to me.  Besides, what’s the word of a made family,”  the farmer scoffed.

     Jacob’s hands clenched, his knuckles popping under the strain.  His eyes hardened as he held the man’s fear filled eyes.  “True.  Unless you don’t mind a little Chicago lightning coming your way, I would back pedal that statement.”

     Kilbourne turned nervous.  His beady eyes were shifting from Jacob to the torch in his hand to the heavy wrench that rested on the tractor seat.

     “You know who I am, Kilbourne.  I have friends who would not think twice about butchering your lazy ass where you stand and sprinkling your nasty excuse for a carcass all across the county,”  Jacob continued, his features like stone.  “If it was up to just me, seeing you as a slime that takes advantage of a widow and her children, I’d fucking make it nice and slow, giving you a slice for every dollar you owe them.  I’d let you bleed out and wait until you beg for help, then mash your sick ass balls into the dirt, you pitiful fuck.  The choice is yours.”

     Kilbourne was visibly shaking.  Jacob tossed the register up on the tractor’s seat with a snort.

     “Be aware, I have all the documentation of that journal, as well as Mr. Janas’ debt register logged with the county clerk.  The debt is settled and the Janas family will be leaving the rat hole you’ve kept them in.  Do you understand me?  You breathe a single word of this, whine about my visit, or say anything against the Janas family, I will return out here to collect the almost two grand from your flesh.”

     Kilbourne’s jaw slackened as Jacob started to walk away.  He waved at Rosemary and Matthew to come to him as he continued to move.  He paused to allow them to catch up.  Mrs. Janas kept looking at Kilbourne who would not turn from his work.  Jacob was sure that the man was probably pissing himself over the information that was just uttered.

     “Afternoon, you two,”  Jacob said warmly. “Mr. Matthew, I need you to help your mother.  Pack up everything, get it ready to go to town.”

     “Mr. Jacob?”  Matthew asked, a pinch between his brows.

     “All debt to Kilbourne has been settled and you will no longer be required to work here, Mr. Matthew.  You will instead attend school.  Cora has secured a home for you that is ready,”  Jacob said with a nod.  “Mrs. Janas, if it is well with you, I will bring your daughter home tonight after supper.”

     “I still need to work,”  she said quietly.

     “Not here,”  he answered, a glare back to the man who still could not face his presence.  “There is plenty of work in town for you, Rosemary.  I hear they are looking for a seamstress at the laundry.  Or laborers at the church.”

     Jacob felt the woman’s thoughts as she ruminated.  He dared to touch her arm, a silent ask to stop.  “I know this was not my place - at least not yet.  I will not apologize, however.  That man would just put you all in the ground where you stand and have no qualms about it.”

     She was quiet.  Jacob realized this was the root where Cora got the hesitation and need to weigh her words before speaking at times.  Rosemary was nearly turning away when he reached out again to stop her.

     “My Matthew did not want to borrow from that man,”  she said, the discomfort of the moment radiated from her.  “I put us here, Mr. Jacob.  I did not do better because I do not know better.  I don’t know any other way.”

     “Nothing wrong with knowing hard work and trying to survive.  Everything wrong with someone taking advantage of that, though,”  he said, getting her to look in his face.  “I will have my brother Samuel here tomorrow with a truck.  Can you be ready?”

     Rosemary had a wisp of a smile.  The way her mouth curved was just like her daughter made his thoughts return to town.  Jacob patted her arm when she nodded.  “Believe it or not, I’m the same,”  he said quietly.  “It takes me a while to figure out my way, too.”

     Returning to town, he found Cora filling flasks.  There were four brown wrapper wrapped packages from the shop sitting on her chair that caught his eye before leaning in to kiss her hello.

     “I was wondering if you would like to celebrate with me tonight,”  he said with a grin.

     “Celebrate?”  she asked, her focus on the scale.

     He hummed.  “Your mother and brothers are packing as we speak.  I plan on taking my girl out to dinner in celebration.”

     She stopped, looking back around at him.  “What?  What did you do?”

     “I had to get a few things in order, but Kilbourne will not be an issue any longer,”  he remarked.  “The house on Park is ready and tonight we celebrate.  Tomorrow your family will move.”

     “How’d you do it?”  she asked as he traced the line of her waist.  

     “Kilbourne just needed to see reason and I gave him a way to see it,”  Jacob answered, leaning back into her.

     The feel of her skin sent a shiver through him.  Her eyes shimmered as she smiled.  There was a mischievous feeling about her shine that made him want to touch her all the more.  He brushed the pad of his thumb across the ridge of her cheek and was rewarded with a wider smile and a tender blush on the skin as if it followed his touch.  This creature was beyond him.  He could not understand how she could allow him to breathe the same air, let alone allow him to touch her.  

     “Do you think it would be all right if I went upstairs to change?”  she asked, returning to her task.  “If we’re going to celebrate, I want to wear a new dress.”

     Jacob grinned.  “Molly’s probably up there now.  I’ll finish here.”

     She grabbed her packages and grazed a kiss to his cheek before scrambling down the hall towards the stairs to the dressing rooms.  He heard her say a fast ‘hello, Marcus’ followed by her footfalls on the stairs.  Jacob glanced down to the bouncer at the door who waved at him.  Smiling wide, he set to finish up the flasks and retrieve the cashbox and ledger.  By the time he had gotten everything into the safe in the office of the shops, Cora was moving across the front walk, her silhouette a radiant outline as the sunshine streamed in all around her in a golden tinted dance.  He stopped in his tracks.  She was simply beatific as she walked in, her steps full of confidence as her sleepy smile appeared.

      The silk of the dress was emblazoned with flowers of muted shades of red, orange,  and gold on a background of soft green with lace low on the thighs and around her neck and capped on her shoulders, leaving the arms completely bare.  The simple dusty red colored cloche hat was perfect against the soft glow of her face.  

     “Lovely.  You look absolutely lovely, Cora,”  Josh said warmly from behind him.  “Doesn’t she, Jake?”

      “Beautiful,”  he whispered.

      Josh nudged him forward, even though Jacob looked back at this twin.  There was approval in his brother’s eye.  Swallowing the thickness of the moment, Jake could not help but feel the weight of what had once been between them evaporate.  The damage that Bea had caused had been slow to heal.  He did not know it would be another woman that could be the balm that soothed them both.  

Chapter Ten: Pt. 3, Cora POV

     “Dear lord, chickadee,”  Molly whistled as Cora came out from behind the privacy screen.

     Susannah stood up from her dressing table.  Both women just smiled something fierce and it made her all the more nervous.  This was the first of the dresses she had the nerve to actually order from the shop’s catalog.  The others were more plain with work in mind, but this one - the lace, the gold, it was for Jacob.  The silk made her feel like she was wrapped in luxury.  

      “It’s not too much for me?”  she asked, before moving in front of the mirror.  “I was worried that it would be a little too-”

      The women looked at each other and laughed.  Molly was the first to move towards her with her hands going directly to the lace that was just above the knee.  Her eyes seemed to be gauging the fabric.

      “See - if you wanted me to alter this to show some leg, I could chop it right here - they left a little hidden hem here with the lace,”  she said, lifting the silk up to show Susannah.  “But this, over all; no, Cora.  This is beautiful.”

      Susannah nodded.  “Jacob’s not going to know what hit him.  And he’s taking you out to celebrate?”

      “Yes.  My family is moving into the Park street house tomorrow.  We’re done with Kilbourne,”  she said.

      “I hope that Jake told that evil bastard he was going to meet his maker if he didn’t let you go,”  Molly remarked, fixing the pins for Cora hat so that her braids supported the delicate curve in the back.

      “I don’t know what was said, but I’m sure Jacob did not resort to violence,”  Cora murmured.

     Both women laughed before falling quiet at Cora’s questioning gaze.  Ready, she left her packages with Molly with the agreement she would pick them up the next day.  Pushing her way into the shop to meet Jacob, she found him and Joshua standing together, relaxed in each other’s presence until she arrived.  There was a gleam to Josh that she had not seen before.  It made her feel welcomed.  Jacob’s gaze locked upon her and did not relent until they strolled out of the shop with her on his arm.  

     They ate at The Boudreau.  Jacob handed her the menu to select their meal, after all they were celebrating her.  The waiter was unsure of what to do, but took the order when the boss was not looking.  Cora laughed as Jacob seemed to beam a bit, despite the strange glances and offended looks from a few of the gentlemen.  

     He asked if she wanted to walk through the house before he drove her home.  The owner had left the key at the bank for him to retrieve.  They laughed as they walked together.  She felt lightened in his presence.  He was talking about how her mother - Rosemary Janas - actually smiled when he told her to be ready to move.  She could only imagine the excitement Matthew and Jonathan had for attending school.  Georgie would have to take a bit of coaxing, but she was sure the boy would probably impress the teacher at how easily he grasped subjects.  

     Jacob pushed open the door and snapped on the lights before she set foot inside.  The wood floors were sturdy, barely making a sound as she walked.  It was clean and warm and exuded notes of home.  She let out a long breath as she draped her wrap over the newel post.  There were drapes on the windows and the kitchen had a tap.  The washroom was functional.  She drifted from room to room, climbing the stairs and looking into what would be the boys’ rooms.  For Matthew to have his own space was going to be important.  The room on the main level would be big enough for two beds, two wardrobes.  She was calculating as she moved.  They had enough furniture for most of the rooms, but she would be able to buy chairs and bookcases to fill the space.  And books.  She could purchase books for all of them to enjoy.  

     Cora’s heart was racing.  Her hand was fisted over her chest as she turned again and again.  She had found a home for all of them.  It may not be the farmhouse her father built, but instead was the house that they could thrive once more because of choices of her own.  Jacob was leaning against the wall by the door, watching her every move with a soft grin.

     “Thank you,”  she said as she moved back towards him.  

     “For what?”  he asked, taking her offered hand.

     “I wouldn’t have known of these houses if you had not shown me,”  she said as she stepped close to him.  “You were right.  It’s perfect.”

     “Are you excited to be here?”  he asked, wrapping his arm around her narrow waist.

     She nodded as he fitted their bodies together.   He danced them across the space, through doorways and into the kitchen and back out and into the sitting room and pulled her into the bedroom with a deep kiss.  Spinning back out he laughed as she almost pouted, leaving her to want more.  

    At the end of the day Wednesday, Cora had the Tiger locked away and balanced when Jacob came to collect the cashbox.  They walked together to put into the safe before he held his arm out in offering to walk her home.  She laughed over the notion, but leaned into him as they walked through the main thoroughfare of the town, back towards her new residence.  

     The house was lit up when they moved before it.  Cora could see the shadows of her family moving around deep inside.  Jacob led her to the door and she paused before she pushed it open, as if unsure if she should knock or not.  Georgie was at the top of the stairs while Jon was at the bottom, playing some game where they would run up and down the set to see who could move the fastest.  Matthew was walking out of the kitchen towards the table, setting out the dishes for his mother.  

     The two younger brothers swarmed her as they laughed and played.  Her mother leaned out of the kitchen to wave at her like they had always resided in the space.  Jacob hung his coat before kissing her cheek and moving back towards the kitchen.  Matthew smiled at her as the other two boys cat called her.  Cora held her arm out for her brother who stepped close.  There was a young man that settled beside her, taller by at least a few inches and growing by the day it seemed.  

     “You like your room?”  she asked quietly as Jon and Georgie settled back into their game.

     “I do.  Can we fill it with books?”  Matthew asked, his voice nearly identical to their father’s.

     “You’re going to wind up teaching that school, you know that right?”  she asked, unable to hide her joy.  “At least for a little bit.”

     Georgie flew down the stairs, and she was sure he missed a few but landed square on his feet before her.  The excitement was brimming as Jacob leaned his frame against the door of the kitchen. 

     “Hungry?”  

     Cora felt her heart pumping as her mother carried out a plate of roasted meat and Jacob followed with potatoes, vegetables and his gravy.   Rosemary insisted Jacob sit at the head of the table, while Matthew took the other end.  Cora held his hand under the table while they prayed.  Her throat felt thick as she found she could not eat at first.  Her nerves of seeing her family in the home moved her to near tears.  The boys were talking about other children that they had already met and Rosemary complimented Jacob on his brother and friend and hoped that perhaps in the future she would be able to return their kindness. 

     “Mr. Jacob, I did not know that you could cook,”  Jonathan remarked as he reached for more to fill his plate.  “I thought only women cooked.”

     Jacob laughed and shook his head.  “My grandparents were cooks for logging camps down through the years.  My brother, Joshua, and I would spend whole summers with them.  I learned from my grandfather how to make most of this stuff when I was about Georgie’s age.  When we weren’t helping, Josh and I were adventuring in the woods, or working with the loggers keeping the horses in check.”

     Cora could not help but to watch as Jacob began to regale them with stories about working in Michigan in the camps when their parents needed to travel to Chicago for work.    

     Jake reached, touching her elbow gently.  “Are you well?”

     She bubbled out a nervous, joyful laugh.  “I’m wondering who these people are and where we are that we’re this happy, Jacob.”

     He gave her a little squeeze encouraging her to eat.  The boys cleared every scrap of food possible.  Rosemary took the time to actually sit and watch her family be nourished.  Her gray eyes were lightened, even twinkled a hint of blue once more. 

     “Cora, why don’t you walk Mr. Jacob out.  I’ll start the dishes,”  her mother said once the boys seemed too sleepy to speak another word long after the meal was finished.      

     She smiled as she took his coat and hat out to the porch.  He lit a cigarette as he stepped outside.  Her heart pounded as he touched her cheek with a thoughtful smile.

     “I can’t find my words,”  she whispered.

     Jacob leaned forward, his mouth brushing against her cheek.  “I like seeing you happy, Finch.”

     His arm hooked around her waist, swaying her as she leaned against him.  He popped his hat out of her hand and placed it on his head.  Turning her, he was quick to press a kiss to her mouth, dragging her lip between his teeth.  She laughed breathlessly as he pecked at her before letting her go.  

     “Kind of nice that I can walk my girl to work in the morning,”  he remarked with a wink.

     She watched as he strolled down the little walk to the street.  Cora waved as he peeked back over his shoulder.  Happy.  The word had been foreign to her.  It burned on her heart to watch Jacob walk down that road knowing that it was only a separation of blocks that he would be laying his head down that night, not miles.  Knowing that her friends were close.  Knowing that the house was safe.  Her arms folded across her chest as she allowed herself the momentary grace to feel that happiness knowing that her work and the aid of friends had led to the moment.

So, our girl got her family away from Kilbourne.  I hope you enjoyed today’s chapter.  Let me know what you think in comments or reblogs.  I love to see feedback.

I do have a tag list - you can find it here or just send me an ask.

@lvnterninthenight @doodle417 @luverleaver @jakesgrapejuice @fictional-duchess @whitesuitjake @milkgemini @positivegvfthings @songbirds-sweet @streamingcolors-gvf @gretavanbitches @samsurfgreenbass @gardensgatedaisy @babyhoneygvfarchive @myownparadise96 @josh-iamyour-mama @starcatchercarol @loveisonaroll @jakesstarlight @reesetrippingthelight @kyrose11 @builtby-gvf @ignite-my-fire @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @wetkleenex-gvf @gold-mines-melting @starsasone @puzzle-gvf @mysticalstarcatcher @montenegroisr @takenbythemadness @brookes-so-done @way-to-go-lad @cal-a-bungaa @lightmylove-gvf @thewritingbeforesunrise @leftjudgeempathsuitcase @brokenbells11 @imborrowedshesblue @vanfleeter @sammysvanfeet @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @jaketlove @redsierra1960 @gvfmarge @becinabubblegvf

[sitp-recs]

hiii i just breezed through that slutty drarry reclist wheww you’re doing god’s work what a wonderful list!!!! i see you’re getting a lot of asks lately so feel free to answer this (or not!!) whenever you feel like it, but i was wondering if you knew of any fics where harry gives up his slutty lifestyle for draco, sort of like “harry potter gives a shit” by talithan. i would prefer if it was harry but the vice versa is also fine! we’re so lucky to have you in this fandom and i feel grateful every time i see your posts on my dash, thank you so much for everything!!! <3

Hello my friend! Love that for us, I’ve had lots of fun putting that slutty reclist together and am always happy to find taste twins when it comes to smut 😏 personally I’ve been more into open relationships lately but you might enjoy these fics where either Harry or Draco have casual sex before getting together:

Harry:

Amber by @slytherco (E, 4.7k)

Despite his numerous flings, Harry's thoughts keep circling back to Draco, only half-aware of his perpetual draw where they're not strangers, not-quite friends, but definitely something. When they both get played by the same person, Harry and Draco find a way to get back at him, and maybe get something extra out of it as a result.

100 Beats per Minute by @oknowkiss (E, 14k)

When Draco left the Magical World behind at nineteen, he didn't expect the cusp of thirty would find him comfortable and secure, with a stable life and a successful career as a sex columnist.

Five Weddings and a Potions Accident by lauren3210 (E, 19k)

In which Harry thinks he’s a playboy, everyone else knows better, and Hermione will kill Seamus if Ron tries to collect on that bet.

Famous by @fw00shy (E, 24k)

It's a couple of years after the war, and Harry's bored of models now, the same way he's bored of Ron's constant nagging, bored of his Weasley monogram knitwear, bored of the same fucking grin that greets him when he hands his fire-truck red Bugatti over to the valet every night. He wants to find—well, he isn't sure what he wants. Anything but models.

Terrible People by wolfpants (E, 53k)

What happens when Harry and Draco end up on the same Muggle gay cruise? They certainly didn't plan for it to happen (but their friends might have). They're stuck with each other for a week, they might as well make the most of it, right? Featuring a holiday-long game of Truth or Dare, a very ill-judged FWB proposition, decades-long pining, lots of gin, and a small pair of green swimming trunks.

A Secondary Education by Thunderbird587 (E, 234k)

Fleeing the aftermath of his recent divorce, Draco Malfoy takes up a post as the new Potions Master at Hogwarts. At first he believes his hopes for a fresh start are dashed when he sees that a certain boyhood rival is on staff there as well. But Harry Potter is being weirdly nice to him, leaving Draco no choice but to play along.

Draco:

Hourglass Heart by @bixgirl1 (E, 5k)

It only happened once — depending on how Harry counted.

Death Dreams by @writcraft (E, 9.5k)

Draco likes to keep things casual, or at least he did before Harry Potter barged back into his life.

Keep your hands on me by @tenthousandyearsx (E, 21k)

Malfoy binds himself with a sex curse. Harry cannot get enough (but would much prefer to keep Malfoy for himself).

The Things We Need by @Kbrick (E, 25k) - established Drarry, polyamory

Three hundred and fifty-three days out of the year, Harry is in a monogamous, fufilling relationship with Draco Malfoy. Then there are the other twelve days.

I Bet That You Look Good on the Dancefloor by birdsofshore (E, 28k)

Harry felt lit up from inside as soon as he entered the bar. There were blokes dancing together, their bodies close to one another, not keeping a wary distance as Harry was always careful to do when he was near another man. God, he wanted this – wanted it so much he could taste it, a metallic tang of heat and desire. He suspected nothing would ever be the same again – especially when he saw who else was in the room.

[eutaemonia]

𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐡 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭

➫ taehyung x reader

ah the cliche miscommunication trope. taehyung is a famous painter and is usually followed by his manager who is at his beck and call.

⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆

Hatred is a strong feeling that plagues humans and motivates them to act out. Hatred is usually too strong of a word or at least it is according to my father. I often opted for strongly dislike instead. Hatred can only be used for the person in my life, my neighbor. To be fair, who plays classical music at 3 o’clock in the morning? Who plays the saxophone on their balcony? Who makes our entire apartment floor reek of acrylic paint? Only my neighbor, it seems like I am the only one who holds this type of ill feeling as I hear the older ladies from a different floor gossiping about the casanova upstairs. 

“I heard that he’s moved here from abroad and is studying American life for a new art piece” One says smugly.“I heard he’s being commissioned by many museums!” “I hear- ” Their voices fade as the elevator doors close and I roll my eyes. After what feels like eternity from a long day I enter the apartment as the stench of paint invades my senses. “Taehyung, mind telling me why the old ladies from downstairs are gossiping about you?” I chastise as I set down the Chinese takeout box on the table.

“Not my fault that I’m irresistible” he says with a wink as he comes from around the large canvas. “Oh you brought food too! Ugh you know I often think to myself, ‘What would I do without you?’ then I realize you’re stuck with me and those thoughts are useless” he sarcastically remarks with a smug grin. 

As I resist the urge to scream I repeat the calming exercises my therapist taught me, in your nose out your mouth aaaand repeat. With a weak smile I nod and begin setting up the food.

“You know you should be a lot nicer because I’m your manager! I don’t voluntarily babysit you, buy you food, buy your groceries or even walk your dog…” I say as my head points to the fluffy pomeranian sleeping in the grandiose dog bed next to the couch. 

“Yes but isn’t that what they call perks! You’re like a built-in best friend from the company, I mean imagine how lonely I’d be if I didn’t have you!” he says with a pout as he faces me. His long black wavy hair swept across his forehead with various colors of acrylic paint decorating his shirt with a dash of sky blue on his cheek as his eyes crinkle as laughter erupts from his boxy smile. 

“I could always ask Ivy to switch me out you know, she adores me” I threaten as his eyes focus back on the canvas and not on my burning cheeks.

The first time I met Taehyung was five years ago in college. We had an art class together and he was the student who was gifted and excelled without trying. I on the other hand did not and opted for appreciating the art. He eventually got accepted into the same company I was managing at and I became his manager. He has a tall build and very wide shoulders, his tan skin contrasts perfectly with his dark raven hair that is hardly ever styled and always overgrown. He claims it’s a part of his trademark. His light brown eyes are framed by unfairly long eyelashes. It wasn’t necessarily Taehyung’s appearance that intrigued me, it was his artwork. His mother died at a young age and his father was an alcoholic after her death that led him to spend most of his time with his grandmother. She taught him many art techniques from all the places she’s traveled. He incorporates feelings and places into one. His debut art piece was a painting of the Leaning Tower of Pisa but it was held up by a small boy, it represented how he felt the whole world’s responsibility was put on him after his mother’s death. It was instantly a hit and has now earned him the title of one of the best artists and the company decided to splurge on everything for the artist that made them known. It’s not that I hate him per say I think it’s the implications of him and how he doesn’t listen and makes my life a hundred times more stressful. He was right when he said I was his only friend and only a slight pang of pity comes from that because I know it’s true. He has difficulty making friends albeit his very sociable and charismatic personality. 

As I enter Taehyung’s apartment excitement courses through my veins, I go straight to him and announce the great news Ivy told me over the phone minutes prior.

“You’re opening a new exhibition in Osaka, Japan!” I announce happily as I watch his face drain of color and the paintbrush fall to the floor. 

“Taehyung,” I murmur “W-what’s wrong? I thought you wanted a new exhibition, you have so many works ready fo-”

“I’m not doing it” he says curtly and standing up. “B-but-”

“NO you’re not hearing me Yn, I am not doing this” he says vehemently storming out of the room. I stand alone in the studio feeling tears threatening to spill as I gaze up at the ceiling. 

Taehyung sits in his room staring at the picture of his grandmother and his younger self in France. He smiles sadly at the picture, a pang of regret bubbles within his chest as he remembers lashing out on Yn. Her face crumpled in pain and confusion clouds his thoughts and he feels bad. He didn’t know how to communicate the fact he hasn’t been to Japan since his grandmother died, he swore he would never go back which is why he’s traveled the world trying to forget about his past. After his mother died his father turned into an alcoholic trying to drown the memories of her, which included Taehyung. He often wandered by himself around the neighborhood until he came to his grandmother’s house. His grandmother traveled the world due to her love for the arts and taught him the many art techniques she had learned. His grandmother was the pillar in his roughly unstable life, although she wasn’t his real grandmother he considered her as his real grandmother. She was just a friendly grandmother that looked after all the children in the small neighborhood where he grew up in Japan. She was an old single woman who said she was too busy living her life to get married and settle down. Her name was Hiromi and she treasured Taehyung because he reminded her so much of herself. He was just thankful someone was there to look after him at such a young age and he owes a lot of it to Hiromi. She made his dark childhood happy and inspired him to continue doing what he loved. At age 19 Hiromi died leaving Taehyung without a reason to stay in Japan. The day after her funeral he went to travel to all the places she told him about.

I knew seeing Taehyung after the incident would be awkward but not this awkward. As Ivy nudges my shoulder in efforts to help me stay awake during the company meeting I can’t help but let my gaze wander to Taehyung who seems to have a very easy time paying attention. The CEO continues to gloat about the company’s newest accomplishments and welcoming yet another promising artist. Applaud ensues as an attractive young man stands before everyone and introduces himself. The new artist’s name is Ryu and he mainly works with clay molding as he showcases his work. Mr. Lin, our CEO, slaps the artist on the back obviously very proud of the new addition.

“And now the one who will be overseeing your work will be none other than Ivy and if you have any questions your manager is Yn.” Mr. Lin says proudly and dismisses the meeting. As soon as Mr.Lin dismisses the meeting, I run to Ryu.

“Well well well mind telling me why you’re here!” I exclaim as he brings me into a hug.

“You know I needed a new company after helping out at the restaurant and I remember you saying you’d help me out” he says cheekily with a blinding smile as I nod understandingly.

Ryu was my childhood best friend and cousin. Our family is very close because they operate a restaurant together that serves the best fried chicken. I remember growing up within the four walls of that restaurant and pulling pranks on our parents. Ryu is set a bit higher than me with sleek, slicked back hair. He always dresses up and believes he’s the most charming person in the building. Yet with his arrogant personality he’s always been there for me and has someone inherited the artful skill that somehow skipped me.

“Why the long face Taehyung?” Ivy inquires with a quirk of her brow.

“Sigh I do not understand Mr. Lin at all, Yn can barely handle me so why add another artist?” He says with genuine confusion written across his features.

“Well for starters all the other managers are handling exhibitions, Yn also has other artists besides you, you know that… right? Plus Ryu and Yn already know each other so it’s easier for them to begin working right away. Although that’s not why you’re asking, you’re jealous!” She exclaims as she pokes his arm.

“Not jealous, I have no idea where that idea even came from. Absolutely ridiculous like honestly… But what do you mean “already know each other”?” He says in air quotes but as soon as Ivy opens her mouth to respond I approach them. Walking up with a beaming smile full of excitement and an equally excited Ryu that leaves a sour taste in Taehyung’s mouth. Dismissing Taehyung’s attitude Ryu introduces himself.

“Hello my name is Ryu, it’s a pleasure to meet you both.” he introduces politely with a blinding smile sweeping Ivy off of her feet.

“The pleasure is all mine. I’ll be here if you have any questions or concerns or anything” she smiles shyly as Taehyung rolls his eyes and I elbow him. 

“Please excuse us for a moment, Ryu I’ll meet you afterwards!” I say hurriedly pushing Taehyung in the tight hall. I glare at him expecting an answer for his odd behavior but instead I’m met with silence.

“What’s wrong now?” I ask exasperated, “Like I have no idea what you want from me honestly. You blew up on me but you’re mad? Plus you’re being mean and this isn't like you. So what’s up?”

“Look, I'm sorry. I didn’t mean to blow up on you or act like this it- it’s just” he murmurs with his head hung low. I duck my head to see his misty eyes and give him a hug to chase away the tears threatening to spill. “Hiromi’s death anniversary is tomorrow… and my mother’s birthday is next week” he says with a sniff as I feel my eyes well up.

“You dummy why didn’t you just tell me?” I murmur as I hug him tighter. “I know you haven’t been back to Japan since Hiromi’s death. Will you be okay for the exhibition? We don’t have to do it you know, I’m sure Ivy w-”

He cuts me off with a short press to my lips and his signature boxy smile with a blush atop his cheeks.

“I’ll be alright, I have you with me after all” he smiles at me. I faintly hear Ivy whooping from the conference room and I laugh.“Okay if you’re up for it” I say gazing up at him “I will always be with you.” “I hope so,” he says with a nod of his head, “By the way… who's that Ryu guy?” I shake my head laughing lightly as I walk away and he chases after me asking.

[theragethatisdesire]

hi bestie im sure uve been asked a million times but do u have any tips for writing? everything i write feels Bad

HELLOOOOOO nonny from a thousand and five years ago! i am by no means an expert, but these are the things that i've been lent by other far more talented writers that have helped me tremendously<3

dropping a cut to preserve the dash for those who aren't interested:)

i can assure you 200% that none of your writing is Bad. the best tip i have ever received is to look at your writing through a vacuum (to an extent). you will never write "like" your favorite authors; for example, i will only ever write like rage, not like donna tartt, or walt whitman. focusing on developing the voice and talent you already possess instead of trying to imitate was the most difficult hurdle for me to overcome, and i still catch myself doing it!

however, when you find things in other authors you appreciate, really really dig deeply in to see what you can learn from it. i approach this from a sentence level: why did king choose to use this word here, and not that one? how does that play into this character at large? understanding the mechanisms behind your fav authors will not only help you avoid copying them, but recognizing the technique at play that you want to learn and test/manipulate for yourself.

read your dialogue aloud. you will feel stupid. it's okay. this tip from a college professor is what i think levelled up my writing hugely.

revise everything you write three hundred times lol. i still pull up WIPs from 5 years ago to play with and revise, especially when i need to put current works down! it's the most helpful tip i've been given as far as recognizing bad habits, things i don't like about my writing, and things i really like. find what's strong, and repeat tip #2 on your own writing. what, on a molecular level, is making that sentence strong? i am by NO means a professional writer or a professor, but i did study creative writing in school, and these are things i have written down in a little doc when i'm feeling frustrated or at a mental block! by far the four things that have helped me grow the most as a writer. my personal best tip is just to get your thoughts on the page and be patient. i have lost so many good potential wips drabbles fics stories you name it by thinking "ugh, that sounds great, but i'm not advanced enough to write it"/"what if i try it and it's awful:/" who cares!! get it on the page!!! you can always improve or revisit it later if it doesn't meet your expectations. your ideas deserve a breath of fresh air :)

best of luck, and i hope that soon you'll send some writing for me to read and share!! i hope you find these helpful<3

[breynekai-tfc]

After gratefully consuming your update I have come to ask if you have any Danny phantom fic recs whilst I am now in the mood for DP

OKAY. LET'S DO THIS.

(2 hours later)

Here is a list of my favorite DP fics! Most of them are not particularly recent, because I am Behind On The Times. For example, I still haven’t read “A Snapping Sound”, so it’s not included here, but I understand that it is very good. You may have read most of these already! But on the off chance you haven't, please enjoy perusing this lovingly hand-selected and alphabetized list.

*I haven't put Cordria's stories on this list. Everything by Cordria is amazing. Close your eyes and point at one, and you won't be disappointed.

**And if I had to choose 3 particular favorites from this list, I would say “Beyond Beasts”, “Exposed”, and “Shift” (by CaptainOzone). As in, these stories are going to stick with me forever. Please read them. 

---------

A Jock and a Hard Place - AnneriaWings Summary: Danny and Dash were silent, trying to wrap their mind around that stupid, simple fact – the door was locked. They were trapped. In a janitor's closet. Together. (Collab with Haiju) [one-shot]

A Misunderstanding - stuffedcrust Summary: A misunderstanding leads to Danny meeting Sam and Dean in less than friendly circumstances. [one-shot] [Supernatural crossover]

Alibi - MyAibou Summary: He was Dash Baxter. Football star. King of Casper High. The world was supposed to have been his oyster for at least another decade. So how did he end up in the basement lab of FentonWorks working for the dad of the kid he used to beat up in high school? And how far would he stick his neck out to protect that kid and whatever secret he was hiding from the government? NOT slash. [complete]

An Open Door - Workparty Summary: The Fentons have an understanding with Danny Phantom; they won't hunt him, and he tries to stay away from them. Danny hasn't exactly tested the limits before, but Maddie finding Phantom injured and bleeding on her son's bed probably wasn't what they had in mind. So why doesn't she want to talk about it? [one-shot] Beyond Beasts - CatalystOfTheSoul Summary: Danny's abilities are getting less reliable by the minute, Tucker can barely keep up with damage control, and it doesn't help that Dash decided to tag along. There's something fishy about this vacation, and it's not the lake. [complete]

Broken Ectoplasm - ghostanimal Summary: Jack came to a disturbing conclusion about the ghostly teen laying in his son’s bed. Somebody had tried to skin Phantom. But who? And why? [complete]

Connections - Lynse Summary: Maddie knows that the Booo-merang has keyed into Danny, for whatever reason, so what's she to think when she sees it collide with Phantom? [complete]

Daniel Masters - Ryuuko1 Summary: After the explosion of the Nasty Burger, Daniel has become the protege Vlad always wanted; however, Daniel's life is thrown into chaos when he is transported to a reality where the accident never happened, and it is up to him to divine his purpose in this alternate timeline...AU [complete]

Dawning of a Sun - pearl84 Summary: A twist in destiny makes the month old Danny F. half-ghost and places him in the hands of the ghost king: Plasmius. Stuck in between a Human and Ghost war, will this young prince find his true self? And most importantly, who will he fight for? [ongoing]

Disconnected - Workparty Summary: A freak lab accident leaves Danny Fenton reeling, just days before beginning high school. How can he pick up the pieces when he barely knows left from right? [complete] Disparaged - imekitty Summary: Unable to revert to his human form, Danny is held at gunpoint by his own mother. [complete]

Exposed - ADraconicScribe Summary: A mysterious caller has revealed that the infamous Danny Phantom is half-human, placing a five hundred thousand dollar prize to the one who exposes Phantom's secret identity. Coupled with Vlad's disappearance, the ghost fighting, and all of the efforts to capture him, Danny and Team Phantom must tread carefully if they are to make it out with their secrets, and their lives, intact. [ongoing]

From the Ashes - Phantomrose96 Summary: Danny escapes by the skin of his teeth after a daring rescue of his cousin. The details are still fuzzy, but when Danny falls ill seven months later, he learns precisely what horror saved him that day. [complete]

Invisible Stitches - Lynse Summary: Family bonding time might be less dangerous now that his parents know his secret, but that doesn't mean Danny is wild about being kept in the dark when it comes to his dad's plans for the weekend. [one-shot] Jumping at Shadows - sapphireswimming Summary: Dash has a problem and he needs Danny Phantom's help. So he decides to get it by... blackmailing Danny Fenton? Pre-PP, no slash. [complete] Little Earthquakes - A Perplexing Puzzle Summary: They say that a man is defined by what he does when he thinks nobody's looking. Does the same hold true for ghosts? [complete] Oddities - Lynse Summary: Jack can't deny that their ghost hunting equipment malfunctions around Danny-consistently and exclusively around Danny-and decides to get to the bottom of it, once and for all. [one-shot]

Planned - imekitty Summary: Maddie wants her own half-ghost specimen. Jack watches her rig the portal to shock and mutate their son. [ongoing]

Phantom of Truth - Haiju Summary: Locked away in a secret government lab with Phantom as her subject, nothing stands between Maddie and the truth... except, perhaps, herself. [complete]

Phantom's Sketchbook - AkoyaMizuno Summary: Mr. Lancer finds himself in an unparalleled situation, he has access to something which can give him incredable insight into the personal workings of Amity Park's local ghost teen hero, Danny Phantom. [complete]

Shift - Lynse Summary: Maddie's capture of the phantom was routine—until she saw the shift in colour that meant it suddenly, horribly, wasn't. [one-shot]

Shift - CaptainOzone Summary: In which Danny's secret is revealed to the world before he ever steps foot in Amity Park…and before he ever meets Sam or Tucker. Pre-PP AU. Post-reveal. [ongoing]

Somewhere private - Misaratis Summary: Dash found the Fenton thermos after Danny lost it one afternoon and when Phantom goes to retrieve it, he's accidentally pulled in to a not-a-date with the jock. It may take some time, but Danny will find that there's more to the bully than he thought. Swaggerbishie. (Very) Slow Burn. [ongoing]

Spellbound - Iymea Summary: "Maybe coming to England wasn't one of my greatest ideas." A stupid mistake lands Danny in the custody of Albus Dumbledore. With the Ministry on his case and a wonky-eyed wizard watching his every move, surviving the wizarding world might just be the biggest challenge of his half-life. [ongoing]

The Misadventures of Wes Weston - WastefulReverie Summary: The day-to-day struggles of Wes Weston as he is faced with the painful realization that he is the only person who seems to realize that Danny Fenton is actually Danny Phantom. Many plot ideas adopted from headcanons mixed with some original ideas. Minor DxS. Post D-Stabilized, no Phantom Planet. [ongoing]

The Right of It - The Wicked Wench of the West Summary: They stared at him, and suddenly, through the gaps in their arms, he spotted the camera. Danny choked, and found that he couldn't breathe. [one-shot]

The Suave and the Awkward - Dream Trance Summary: Danny splits himself to practice kissing, and while it is as awkward as you would expect kissing yourself to be, circumstances keep arising that are easier to deal with apart than as one. With so much time apart, the question sets in: who has more right to exist if Fenton and Phantom are no longer fragments of a whole? Character Study. Established Gray Ghost, slow burn Pitch Pearl [ongoing]

they say this place is haunted - LittleBlueArtist Summary: Danny Fenton is in college. He's left Phantom behind, and Amity Park with it. He's onto a better life now. A college degree. A daily routine that doesn't involve ghosts and fighting. That is, until someone from his past comes roaring into his present, and he might've taken all the wrong parts of Amity Park with him. [ongoing]

Trust Your Instincts - peachdoxie Summary: A new kind of danger threatens Amity Park. With no other leads, Maddie Fenton turns to the one individual that might be able to help: Danny Phantom. Meanwhile, after a near death experience, she begins to question everything she knows about ghosts. [ongoing]

[toastedside]

Banana Toast

Damian Wayne x Batmom! Reader

I was reading Super Sons the other day and this particular fic come into my mind right after. Just imagining the talk that come after sneaking out the night fighting Kid Amazo.

You watched Damian stepped out of the car with perpetual scowl on his face. He still wears his full armour Robin suit, with domino mask and all. You and Alfred had just picked him up from the Kent an hour ago after he snuck out for the night, roped Jon into an impromptu dangerous mission.

You suppressed a shiver. You didn’t want to imagine the worst, you had it all before. You were grateful that neither Jon nor Damian had suffered any lethal injuries. Few cuts here and there and probably a bruised shoulder, but nothing lethal.

Lois was livid when three of you had caught them climb up the window towards Jon’s room. You had been too, more so when you found out they were chasing after an Amazo wannabe and provoking Lex Luthor. Lois took all the shouting and scolding role that morning while you went full on injuries inspection and Alfred full on disappointed frown.

This is a mission where any one of them should have called their fathers. Jon argued that he tried to do so, but Damian was against the idea. It did not surprise you a little bit. If anything, you had always known the boy practically bleed for validation.

“In this kind of moment is the moment I truly believe that he is Master Bruce’s son,” Alfred’s voice came from behind. You whipped your head and smiled. “The utter stubbornness they both possess is astounding.”

“And their knack to make me worry is more or less the same.”

You found Damian fresh out of shower almost half an hour later, rummaged through the kitchen cabinet looking for some food. You silently watched him from behind, reading all of his body language from here. You knew he wasn’t exactly sorry about what he did, nor he feels the need to, but he was pretty pissed and awful with the consequence he brought after.

Or the reaction he received from others, for the lack thereof.

“Are you going to stand there all day or are you going to give me lectures too?” Damian asked without bother to turned around.

“Would you like some banana toast for breakfast?” You simply smiled as you went through the kitchen cabinet to grab some wheat bread.

“Banana toast?”

“Basically, it’s a toast with peanut butter and banana, add chocolate if you feel fancy,” you explained. “It’s a comfort food I invented during my college days. I eat it whenever I feel down or upset. You want some?”

Damian thought for a while. “Yes, please. That sounds good.”

You spent few minutes in silence as you put your comfort food on work. Damian sat behind on the chair watching you solemnly, probably went through hundreds of probable scenarios from this. Sometimes it’s hard to remember that he had always on high alert for a thirteen-year-old.

It gave you some time to think too. A part of you wanted nothing more but to yell to get the point across, but you also recognized that he had taken some blows from Lois before. Yelling to get the point across would be a contra productive thing to do where it would’ve done nothing but push him away further.

You were disappointed, nonetheless. A little betrayed at the fact that he had to snuck out and breach an agreement. And Damian didn’t try to look at you in the eyes, not even when you slid the warm toast towards him. Shame, probably, or guilt, you didn’t know.

“Damian, you do realize that you broke off an agreement with me and your father, right?” You started. Your voice was soft and calm, you tried your best to remain civil.

“I know,” his voice was firm. As if he had prepared for this inevitable conversation.

“May I know why?”

“Father hadn’t let me to go out for patrol with him!” Damian’s voice was thick with disappointment, a dash of anger, but surprisingly he didn’t raise his voice. “I just want to do good out there. I saved a family from their own demise tonight; you can’t blame me for that!”

“You do know exactly why your father didn’t let you go out for patrol with him. You’ve been ditching schools and is five assignments behind.”

“I don’t need school! It’s stupid! I already know the whole thing; I can easily have master degree by age seven!”

“I don’t doubt that a little bit. You’re indeed very smart. You can easily outsmart me and your father, even,” you nodded in acknowledgement. “But we need you to understand that school is not only for your academic learning, there are a lot of things to learn outside just knowing. Including gaining soft skills and build connections too. Befriend with someone your age.”

“I don’t do friends! Besides, isn’t that what superhero groups are? Isn’t me in Teen Titan enough?”

“Emphasize on the ‘someone your age’ a little bit more, darling. Most of the Titans are older than you. You don’t exactly call Starfire someone your age now, do you?” You smiled. “And you do friends. Jon is the living proof.”

Damian scowls a little bit. “We’re not friends.”

“That’s what your father says about Superman at first. Look at them now, attached by the hip if you ask me.”

Damian smiled slightly at that. Or anything that resemble a smile. He quietly munched on his banana toast, silently marveling at the taste and let the information sink in.

“We also need you to understand that your action last night, while outstanding in the field, still have consequences.”

“Am I grounded?”

“Yes.”

“Aren’t I already grounded for ditching school?”

“Doesn’t mean you’ll get out of this clean,” you said. Damian groaned. “No patrol for next two weeks, and you’re going to school. Catch up with your assignments.”

“Two weeks?” Damian screeched in protest. “That’s too long! What if–”

“Unless you are needed in the field out of immediate emergency, you are not allowed for patrol otherwise. I know you’re Robin, but you are also my and your father’s son. You live under our roof, and you go with the rules too. We’ve talked about this hundred times already and you were agreeing,” you pointed out. “I trust you, Damian. Your father trust you. And it would mean a lot for us if you able to maintain that. One of the ways is by not sneaking out in the night and fighting bunch of robots with your friend.”

“Right,” Damian muttered slowly, defeated. “I am sorry, Mom.”

“Apology accepted, darling. Now go finish your breakfast and catch some sleep. You can join me in the clinic this afternoon if you want to, you can bring Jon over if his parents allow him to.”

“Can I meet Peanut the clinic dog, then?”

“You can try to train her some tricks you taught Titus if you want to.”

Damian’s spirit seemed to be lifted up by the promise. He eagerly finished his breakfast and went straight to his room, this time to catch some sleep hopefully. You let out a relieved sigh, the conversation went better than you had anticipated. By the look Alfred sent you when you brought the empty plates over, you thought he was agreeing too.

Well, raising bunch of vigilante kids definitely never cross your mind, or even a life you expected to have. But looking back, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[missinghan]

falling for the first time ⤖ bang chan

❖ genre : hogwarts au; fluff

❖ word count : 2,1k.

❖ warning : explicit language

❖ summary : your plan of putting all effort into avoiding bang chan as much as possible has been going smoothly for almost seven years until he asks you for a dance at the Yule Ball. or alternatively, your families hate each other but wait...has he always had those golden flecks in his eyes?

❖ author’s note : here’s the song they’re dancing to 🖤

one.

The once cold ballroom has waited for eons it seems, for a real heart to beat a new rhythm into the matter that made it. 

Meanwhile, you too have been waiting (for two-ish hours) in the corner with your cup of root beer abandoned at a table for your dance partner. You’re currently half-clutching your dress and half-panicking because Chan wouldn’t miss an event as extravagant as the Yule Ball. He’s not the type to be sour over little things either just because he didn’t win the Triwizard Tournament. Or perhaps someone else just happened to ask him? 

A blood-curdling shriek bursts your eardrums. 

Jeongin gives you a nudge with his elbow from behind. “Grilled scream-cheese?” he asks with a mouthful of gluten and carbs, a plate of a sandwich with a (literally) screaming slice of cheese slapped in the middle. 

“No, my appetite is ruined,” you say, pushing it away slightly and heaving an audible sigh. 

The Ravenclaw boy makes an alarming noise—something similar to ‘uh-oh’ and swallows the big bite from before as fast as he can. “Where’s Chan?”

You only shrug, “Don’t know. Don’t care.” If only you could do that with the train of thoughts that have been going in and out of your ears for the past a hundred and twenty minutes. 

“Y/N, you look troubled,” he purses his lips, frowning at you. 

“I’m not,” you voice in denial, trying your best not to come off as snappy. No, you will not give up your facade that easily. You won’t leave Chan’s ego nor Jeongin to rest without a fight by saying that you actually want to dance with the heathen!

“Yeah right, let me-“

“Don’t. What if he’s already asked someone else?” You momentarily shudder at how sad you sound. The root beer shouldn’t have hit you this hard. “I mean look at him, he’s Bang Chan. I’m pretty sure those girls from Beauxbatons have been eyeing him up and down since the Tournament.” 

Jeongin lets out a huff of laughter in disbelief. “Are you even hearing yourself right now?”

“One of you guys could have asked me. Or I should have paid Jisung to be my partner yesterday. I just, I don’t know, what am I saying? I’m confused.”

Your friend is officially done with your bullshit so he decides for himself that he will now set down his food to make your first and last Yule Ball arguably unforgettable. “Honestly? I can lie and say I would dance with you if you weren’t so full of pride. But truth is, none of us asked you to dance because we all know how badly Chan wants this opportunity. Wake the fuck up! He’s been planning this since forever. I’ll go look for him, wait here,” he points a finger at you before running off, leaving your heartbeat pause awkwardly like a broken record. 

The ballroom feels significantly colder now. 

“Miss Y/N?”

Ah, perfect timing. What’s another way to phrase ‘being an absolute idiot at a ball’? Oh right, it’s ‘talking to your professor five minutes before the first dance while your friends are socializing left and right’. 

“Yes, Headmistress McGonagall?”

Your professor peers around when she realizes that you’re all alone. “Are you and Mister Bang ready?”

“R-ready?” Suddenly, you feel out of place. 

“Well, of course. It’s only traditional that the three champions start the first dance!”

“Oh.”

two. 

Only the celestial bodies above can know how melancholy you are. But you’re met with a sky without stars tonight. 

With your head on your elbows, lips pressed into a straight line, your gaze falls from the endless canvas of darkness to the hustle and bustle of students leaving the Great Hall to head back to their designated dormitories. A sigh. You definitely don’t need to know what they’re going to do for the after-party. Ryujin used to show you an article on this peculiar machine called ‘a laptop’ that the more you sigh, the faster you age. If Chan keeps doing shit like this to you, you’re gonna be all old and wrinkly by the time he comes here. 

If he is going to show up at all that is. 

The moment you peel your eyes away from the overcrowded main gate, a broad figure is shuffling himself through his drunk Quidditch teammates, sloppy couples, and burnt out professors. He dashes through the empty hallways to reach the spiral staircase, skipping three steps at a time, risking the chances of falling on his face just to get to you. 

Pulling himself to a halt at the last step, Chan sees you all curled up against the balcony railings and feels a pang of guilt wash over his innards like a wave. You’re pulling your legs toward your chest, defeated eyes gazing into the space ahead while your hair falls to your face messily. Like you’ve gone through the depths of the Fourth Dimension, struggling through dark matters and a rite of divinity at the end of the line. All for him. 

You’re beautiful. 

And the amount of affection that’s piling upon his rib cage? Astronomical. 

Your gaze is averted away; even with a slight scowl, sloppy clothes and messed up hair, you still flare radiance. He thinks that if a meteor shower is happening right now, you can still outshine it. “You came,” you mention. 

For once, Chan finds himself at a loss for words. “Y-Yeah,” he manages to swallow. Yeah? What the fuck, Chan? Is that all you’ve got to say? 

“I-I’m sorry, Y/N. Yeji accidentally mistook one of Minho’s potions for her allergy medicine so I gotta take care of that before coming,” he scratches his forearm awkwardly, head hung low with guilt. “I didn’t know it would take that long…”

“Oh.” Wow, jealous stinks. This isn’t pre-school, you’d better snap out of it. “Let’s head back. I wanna check on her before passing out.” 

“She’s fine now, sleeps like death. Chaeryeong is there too, you know, just in case.” Chan feels perplexed as he tries to coax anything but the ‘head back’ option from you. 

You tilt your head. “And...?”

“I’m afraid you owe me something?” A slow smile begins to outstretch upon his facial muscles, deepening the dimples on either side of his cheeks that you adore the most. “A dance, I believe,” he makes a thinking face while striding toward you. 

Coldly, you stand up to dust your dress. “I don’t want to.” You’re not having it, he can tell. But does Bang Chan ever give up? 

“A bet is a bet, Y/N.”

Chan’s hand fishes inside the pocket of his trench coat to take out his wand. His hand delicately gives it a swift flick; once, and twice followed by a low mumble from his lips. Immediately, light pulses from the tip of the wand before shooting upward, disintegrating into a million bits as though a starry night is embracing the both of you. He does the same action again to cast a different spell. Music laces through every fiber of air without effort, like honey being poured into your ears. 

“It’s just one bet,” he pouts with a hand fully extended toward you. 

You should have realized how good Chan looks tonight. A black dress shirt that’s buttoned below appropriate, matching trench coat, silver accessories lining his fingers and ears with naturally tousled hair from running here. He looks so gorgeous that it almost suffocates you, that it almost makes you want to hiss ‘fucking unfair’ out loud. 

Enchanted by his poise and grace, your body reacts without the consent of your mind. You seize up when you unknowingly place your hand on top of his, the touch sending electricity down your spine. A simple response has become all too complicated for your brain to process. 

You grow breathless the moment he grabs you by the waist and pulls you flush against him. “Yeah, a bet so you’ll leave me alone,” you remark sarcastically to ease your nerves. 

“Look, it’s not my fault that the Goblet of Fire chose me to participate in the Tournament,” Chan chuckles lowly, eyes crinkling into crescent moon shapes while he sways you to the soft melody. Dots of light continue to float around weightlessly, reflecting the golden flecks in his eyes. He’s ethereal in the worst way—the way that isn’t healthy for your heart. 

But you soon slap on another scowl when you realize he just reminded you of why you’re even here in the first place. If only you weren’t so salty about Slytherin winning your team over at the final Quidditch match before the holiday occurs. Let’s just say you weren’t exactly in the best mind state after getting your ass kicked in your favorite sport. 

And Chan wasted no time to slip in between the line of comical humor and your ultimate torment. Which results in—if you get to attend the Triwizard Tournament, he will leave you alone for the rest of your life; but if he is the chosen one, he gets a dance with you at the Yule Ball. 

It’s really not all that bad if you think twice about it. Dancing with Bang Chan, the Slytherin’s Quidditch team captain, the student with perfect academics and conduct for six years straight, and now one of the Triwizard Tournament champions this year. 

Music threads through the atmosphere and lifts away gravity. You can’t count how many times you have stepped on his toes due to nervousness because you’re too much of a coward to look him in the eye. But he’s the only thing you can seem to focus on right now. 

“Besides, don’t you think this is a good opportunity to get rid of the tension between us?” Chan asks honestly, and this causes you to perk up. 

“What?”

Lights are twinkling with every step as Chan spins you around gently, your dress billowing out prettily as your heels click against the cold concrete. After that, he swiftly pulls you back into his arms and you exhale in relief like you were meant to be there all this time. 

“Don’t act dumb, you’re terrible at it. I know the only reason why you’ve been avoiding me since first year was because of our families’ stupid grudge. ”

Your eyes are cast downward, sadness glinting in your round pupils. “Either way, my parents wouldn’t like to see me talking to you. And look at what we’re doing. It’s going to be catastrophic if they find out.”

“Well, they can’t just magically appear now, can they?” Chan leans a little closer to lock his eyes with yours. 

And you break it seconds later because you’re an absolute coward for a Gryffindor. “We’re attending a magic school. Anything is possible.”

“Did they even tell you what the actual problem was in the first place?” he huffs out in faint annoyance. 

You shake your head. “I don’t think they’d even remember.”

“Then would you stop giving me that look as if I just shooed your owl way every time I said ‘hi’ on my way to class? Have you ever thought about my feelings? About us being civil for once? Like friends? Or even more so?”

“I-“ 

“We’re not our parents, Y/N.”

Your heart becomes all erratic at his words. It’s nothing like those fully-fledged, tear-jerking nor cheesyass confessions that you’ve gawked at one too many times, but it makes your heart flutter and stirs up those cliché butterflies inside your stomach. This can’t be compared to the Yule Ball—it’s even better than that. Because it feels as though you and Chan are the only presences that graze the surface of this land. There’s no one to judge, no fingers to point, no gossip spreading like wildfire. 

It’s perfect. Almost. 

“Us...it’s not- it can’t happen. It’s not supposed to happen. It’s not possible, Chan.”

Wordlessly, he stops, moves both of your hands to his shoulders, and wraps his arms around your torso. The sound of your heartbeat against his is so in sync they just drown out the music completely. Time is frozen in place, leaving you to hang on the edge with him, hanging onto this single moment as thin as the red string of fate. You’re waiting for him to do something, say something. 

Just then, Chan cracks a wry smile and pulls you closer by the nape of your neck, resting his forehead comfortably on yours. “We’re attending a magic school. Anything is possible.”

[yuulina-vre]

Spirit

Summary: Wanda has never ridden a horse.

Pairing: Steve x Bucky x Reader

Wordcount: 2582 words

Warnings: none

Masterlist

The soft glide of fingers over her shoulder rouses her. The fingers glide further over her neck before taking the same path back only to start again. Lightly chapped lips press against her shoulder. “Hey, sweetheart. Time to wake up.” Y/N only hums still on the verge of sleep, ready to let herself be dragged under again. “No, come on, baby.” The deep chuckle vibrates through her body. The hands that had gently run over her, now grip her a little harder and soon she feels herself manhandled onto a broad chest. Instinctively she snuggles into the warm body, head resting on its natural place on the chest, right under the chin. “Hey, no. No more napping. The others are waiting for us.”

“But comfy.” She whines, presses her head and body further onto the warm skin under her. “Nope. Come on. I have two options for you. Either you get up so I can pee and we get to eat lunch or you stay put, I pee on the bed and tickle you as long as it takes for you to pee yourself, too.”

“Bucky…”

“Your choice.” She grumbles a little, nuzzling her nose against the skin under her. “…First one.”

“Alright.” Bucky presses his lips against her forehead before he carefully shoves her off. “See you in a few minutes.” Then he’s gone. Y/N stays still on the mattress, only rolling a little to stare at the ceiling. She’s still a little tired. She came home late, together with Steve after they had to attend a small mission. She actually had to sneak into a building this time. The vents were full of dust and she swears she’s breathed in more of it than air. Missions always kick her ass, though. She’s going so rarely and when she does, she feels sore and tired afterward. How Steve managed to get up around 7 am is beyond her. The moment she hears the toilet flush she closes her eyes. “Baby girl, come on. I’m hungry.”

“Noo…” She whines again but startles the moments Bucky grabs her around the hips to throw her over his shoulders. “Fine, then I’ll carry you up like this.”

“No! Buck, I’m not wearing pants! Buck!” Well fuck. Bucky’s not listening just smirking and slapping her ass before he really starts walking out of their apartment. Getting carried into the common room only clad in panties and a long shirt from Steve is embarrassing. Her hair isn’t made either. Thankfully she only earns herself a strange look, a few smirks here and there. Steve seems to be the only one not looking amused. He has his eyebrows raised; arms crossed. Y/N only hangs like a defeated bag over Bucky’s shoulder hiding her face in her hands. Bucky gently sets her on Steve’s lap and she instantly goes to hide in his chest. “Hey.” He kisses her temple, gathers her in his arms, and presses her closer. While the others quickly go back to what they did Steve holds onto her, whispering softly. “What was that about?”

“Bucky is mean.” She starts pouting. “Didn’t want me to sleep any longer.” Steve snorts a little but his hand runs softly over her back. “You can nap with me later, yeah?” She continues pouting but nods. “How are you feeling? Still sore?”

“I’m fine but tired.”

“I don’t understand why you’re tired after missions. You change all the time. Is it the concentration that a mission brings?” Y/N only shrugs and snuggles closer into Steve, her own arms wrapping around his neck. “I don’t know.” They stay like that for a while. Y/N feels herself almost dosing off as Clint’s loud laugh startles her. “Never?!”

“No. It’s not like we had much money to do so.” Wanda shrugs, looking around. “Have you all done it?” A collective of yeses goes through the group. “Done what?” Y/N yawns and rubs her eyes. “Wanda has never ridden a horse.”

“What? Never?” Y/N looks at Wanda, a little shocked. “No, it’s not that big of a deal. I’m sure Steve and Bucky haven’t either.”

“Actually…” Bucky smiles at Wanda with a slight shrug. “My sister likes horses so I took her once to the zoo and she made me ride one too.” Wanda sighs as Clint pipes up again. “Even Tony has ridden a horse.”

“Oh, come on. He was five years old, that doesn’t count.” Tony only sips on his cup of coffee not even eyeing any of them as he listens to Bruce. Y/N turns to Steve. “Have you ever ridden one?”

“No, used to be allergic. Couldn’t get closer than a few hundred feet.”

“Unbelievable.” She shakes her head and jumps practically off Steve’s lap, her almost naked self forgotten. “Clint! You’re accompanying me! The rest is meeting us in two hours down by the lake!” She points at everyone, even at Bruce and Tony who looks confused, then grabs Clint by his collar and drags him behind her with minimal protests from him. She sees Steve and Bucky laugh, Wanda frown, and Nat smirk at Clint as they leave.

While they drive in town Y/N remembers why she never asks Clint to drive her. He’s like a starving man on his way to the next supermarket. They almost need the full two hours to buy what’s needed and not because Y/N is picky. Jesus, clint has some strong requirements on the stuff. But Y/N supposes he knows what he’s doing since he’s the one that owned horses. Back home She slips into the first room that’s empty and close to the entrance. Clint suggested some breeds to her that would fit with the brought equipment but Y/N is a week woman and concentrates on the one she finds beautiful. It takes a bit more time to change but soon she turned into a beautiful, light brown Norwegian fjord horse. She shakes herself a bit, lets her tail swig, and neighs silently for Clint to come in. He gets her fully ‘dressed’ with the blanket, saddle, halter, and rein before he leads her outside. Some employees look funnily at them, some smile but they both don’t pay them any mind. They stroll on but Clint suddenly stops. Y/N almost runs into him and snorts loudly. “Sorry, sorry. Can I get on?” Y/N nods eagerly. It’s been a long time since she carried someone around. As soon as Clint is on top she starts running around, slowly at first but then after. She feels the wind rush past her, her body pushing itself to the pastes pace possible. “Come on now, Y/N. The others are probably waiting.” She slows down, neighs again, and lets Clint lead her around until they can see the others. Some of them look slightly startled, Wanda even looks a bit scared. Steve and Bucky just look amazed and Tony is oddly hyped. Y/N stops right in front of them, shaking herself a little as Clint gets off. “Hi, Y/N.” Nat steps forward her hand stretched out, waiting for Y/N to butt her head against it. She sniffs at it first but then actually presses her noses against it and lets Nat stroke up and down. Bucky steps up as well, softly gliding his hand over her neck, cooing a little. Steve doesn’t step up to her but to Wanda. She looks pretty hesitant. Steve’s quick to grab one of her hands to squeeze it and whispers to her, probably to calm her down. “So, anyone wants a try?” Clint claps in his hand looking around. Surprisingly or not that surprising, since he looked hyped, Tony steps up and swings himself up into the saddle. He guides her around slowly trying to get a feeling but soon he’s dashing with Y/N over the grass and sand. One after another climb up in the saddle to run a few rounds around with her. Some are faster than others. Bucky denies it but feeds her apples in between her runs. Then it’s Wanda’s turn but she backs off as Y/N comes close, hiding behind Steve. “What’s wrong?” “S-she’s so big.” “Yeah, but it’s only Y/N. There’s no point in being afraid. You know her.” Steve tries to reassure her but Wanda backs off more. Y/N keeps an eye on her seeing her stare. She doesn’t seem quite afraid but neither does she seem comfortable. To not scare her off Y/N shuffles a little backward and walks up to Bucky. He immediately starts scratching her neck, cooing in her ears, and feeds her yet another apple Clint passes him. She stays a moment but soon runs off. Being a horse brings a feeling of freedom that she rarely feels. Somehow, it’s a whole different world and another freedom. It’s not comparable with the one she feels like a bird. It’s just… different. She runs around for a while, jumps here and there before she tires herself out. She tastes a bit from the grass around the compound but the apples were tastier so she trots back, hoping to get another one. She’s not coming far because Clint catches her halter. She snorts and neighs a little annoyed but follows him as he leads her a bit away from the others. She’s just starting to wonder where they are going as they reach a tree. “I’m just parking you here for a sec. Wait for me yeah?” She nods and watches as he tightens her reins on a thick branch. As if she would run away! But he still goes through with it and walks off only to return with Wanda in one hand and a basket in the other. “Clint, no. Please.” “Come on. Just pat her and give her an apple. She’s not as scary as you might think.” “No Plea-” Y/N cut ser off mid-sentence. She’s now close enough so Y/N steps forward and butts her head against her shoulder, gently and without nuzzling or nibbling. She just presses it there and holds it. Wanda tenses instantly, almost backing off but Clint now has a hand on her lower back and holds her still. Wanda’s still tense but with Clint takes one of her hands and slowly raises it and places it on Y/N’s neck. At first, her hand just rests there but then she lightly, barely noticeable, starts scratching and stroking and Y/N has to keep herself in check. She wants to snort in pleasure neigh but she can’t. she doesn’t want to scare Wanda off so she waits. It takes a few minutes until Y/N deems Wanda calm enough so she lifts her head and snorts, nudging Wanda carefully, and triples on the spot, eager for some apples she knows clint hides in the basket. Wanda takes one out and hesitantly reaches forward. “Flatten your hand so she won't accidentally take your fingers off.” Wanda’s hand flattens and Y/N tries to take the apple as gently as she can. It takes a while longer to really convince Wanda to get in the saddle but half an hour later Y/N is strolling around the compound at a leisurely pace with Wanda sitting on her back. That is until she gets an idea for some bonding time. “Where are you going? Y/N?” Wanda panics a little on her back turning back to look at the others. No one really notices what they are doing, except Clint who’s still eyeing them. “C-Clint?! Where’s she going?”“I don’t know. Just let her lead. It’s Y/N, she probably wants to bond with you.” Y/N neighs to confirm it and continues on along the shore deeper into the forest. She walks for a while until they reach a smaller path that she follows and that leads her back to the lake. She stops on the sandy ground and snorts. The view is a bit different; this place is more shadowy. You can see the compound and if you look closely, you can see all the others on the pier. “This is beautiful.” Y/N nods eagerly. She likes this spot. When she sometimes changes into a deer, she hides out here, just looking around. Sometimes she can watch recruits and Nat and Steve train long-distance runs or survival in icy water. It is interesting and she’s always glad she doesn’t have to do it. Wanda leans a bit forward, resting against Y/N’s neck. Her hands start stroking each side of Y/N’s neck while she whispers into one of her ears. “Can we do this again some time? I- I think I like it.” Y/N nods again, happy that she could convince her that riding a horse isn’t that scary. They slowly make their way back and Y/N test the waters by falling into a slightly faster pace. Wanda screeches at first but relaxes soon. Back with the others she dismounts her and pats her neck again before happily skipping over to Clint.

Y/N looks around trying to spot her boys. They both stand on the edge of the pier. Well, Bucky is sitting, his feet dangling in the water, Steve’s standing beside him nursing a drink. Y/N’s not wearing any horseshoes so she is relatively silent and could try sneaking up on them. Taking the chance while it’s still presenting itself, she walks as silently as she can. It helps that the others aren’t far off, laughing and chatting pretty loudly. She’s only a few feet away from her boys, able to hear their soft conversation. “She might as well be, I mean. Look how Clint acts.”

“Yeah, well. After Pietro, he has taken her under his wings. He keeps a close eye on h- Ahh!” That’s the moment Y/N uses. She takes a small jump and buts her head against Steve’s back, forcefully enough to push him off balance. Steve staggers a little before he loses his footing and slips over the edge of the pier right into the water. Bucky barks out a laugh while Y/N neighs loudly. Steve swims back up, sputtering and spitting water out. “You!” He points an accusing finger at her but Y/N only snorts amused, though, she’s stepping up to the edge of the pier she lowers her head so her reins hang low enough for Steve to grab on, which he does. She neighs loudly and lifts her head with as much force as she can and steps back, dragging Steve up on the platform again. Bucky quickly grabs Steve on the loops of his jeans and pulls him up as well. For a moment Steve just lies pouting on the ground before he slowly gets up and tackles Bucky, getting him all wet as well. Bucky screeches at the wetness and tries to fights Steve off but he nuzzles his wet hair just into Bucky’s face. “That’s for laughing!” Then he lets go and glares at Y/N. He approaches her slowly at first. Y/N stakes a step back but then Steve suddenly starts running. Normally Y/N would be faster than he is but she starts a second too late to turn around, so Steve manages to catch her on her neck and fling himself around her until he sits in the saddle, getting her whole neck all wet. She continues running just for the fun and because Steve just realized what he’s doing. “Y-Y/N! Slower! Oh my god, I hate you!” His hands tighten in her mane as she continues running through the grass. No! No slowing down. She enjoys it way too much.

[iam93percentstardust]

i was about to ask you to continue your marvels unsolved ‘verse but then i saw your specific ships so i’m going to ask for a fantasy au with winteriron!! but tbh you should do whatever makes you happy it’s your birthday month!!! (happy birthday! your writing makes me so happy thank you so much for it)

Thank you so much!! I’m so happy you like my writing!!!

I ended up being inspired by the magical flower shop AU I wrote last August, but that’s not necessary to read to understand this fic. Since tumblr is still having issues with links, I won’t include the link here but if you’re interested in that one, it’s Chapter 27 of AU-gust

As always, this fic can be found on my ao3!

Roses and Rowan

It’s storming when Bucky drives past Ravenspoint’s limits. The rain is coming down hard enough that he almost misses the sign for the little town in all the gloom, but then there’s a flash of lightning, illuminating the foreboding faces of the town patriarchs glaring down at those who would dare enter their town. Bucky shivers, resolutely turning away as he continues on his way.

He’s not here for them anyway. The patriarchs are long dead, their only descendants long since fled. There’s another flash of lightning, this time illuminating the hill off to the left and the old manor on the hilltop. From what little bit he can see through the storm, it looks like it was once a stately mansion but it’s falling into disrepair now. Bucky blinks and suddenly he can see the golden glimmer of the wards around the whole hill, sealing the house and grounds off from the would-be adventurers brave enough to test their mettle against the ghosts of Rosewood Manor.

Another shiver runs down his spine. The magic is strangely familiar, though he can’t place where he might have seen it before. He blinks again and the golden glimmer of the wards disappears from his view. “Spooky,” Bucky mutters. In the passenger seat, Alpine mraows her agreement. He reaches over and scratches under her chin, grinning when she purrs loud enough to drown out the music coming from the car speakers.

They pull into town a few minutes later, only knowing it by the stoplight Bucky just barely manages to make out through the sheets of rain pounding down. He would have missed it otherwise, the storm too heavy and the buildings too dark to see in the night. Ravenspoint is a small town with a population of only three thousand people, exactly one stoplight, and two streets that run the length of town, connected by a series of smaller cross streets. It’s exactly the last place Bucky ever thought he would find himself and yet here he is, searching for someone who had made it clear he didn’t want to be found.

“What am I doing, Alpine?” he asks the cat. “He told me he didn’t want me to come after him.”

Alpine can’t respond but she rolls over, exposing her belly to him, and he gets the sense of reassurance through their bond.

“I know,” he responds. “Tellin’ people he wants to be left alone when that’s usually the last thing he wants. But let’s be real here, this place is pretty far off the beaten track.”

Another pulse of reassurance.

“Well if you ask me—” the helper figment starts to say.

“I didn’t,” Bucky interrupts before it can say anything else. Damn figment’s been more trouble than it’s worth this whole trip. “Where’s the turn?”

The figment gives him a sullen look. “In five hundred yards, off to the right.”

Even as the figment says it, Bucky spots the glowing lights of the shop in the distance. He slows down and pulls over into one of the parking spots off the street, peering up through the rain at the shop sign above the door.

“Bluebells and Belladonnas,” he reads. “He always did like alliteration.”

“Great,” the figment says waspishly. “Can I go now? I got a hot—”

Bucky flicks his fingers and the figment disappears back to whatever dimension figments come from. Alpine flicks her tail lazily, giving off a sense of amusement and a little bit of hunger. Bucky laughs and scratches her chin again.

“Yeah, I would’ve let you eat it if it wouldn’t have given you indigestion,” he says. “’nother couple of minutes. I’m sure he has fresh tuna for you.”

He sighs and looks at the shop again. The sign on the front says it’s closed but there are lights on inside both in the shop itself and in the apartment above the shop, telling him that the owner is probably still working.

“So what’re you doing sitting out here?” he asks himself. He gives another baleful look at the stormy clouds and the rain still pouring down, groans, and then shrugs his hood up over his head. Nothing for it. The rain isn’t supposed to let up for another couple of hours and Bucky doesn’t feel like sitting in the car that long.

“You gonna be good out here?” he asks Alpine. She blinks slowly at him. That’s a yes, then.

Quick as he can, he gets out and dashes for the cover the awning provides. Once there, he throws his hood back and then knocks on the door. He waits about a minute before knocking again, this time a lot louder. It takes a moment before he sees a person-shaped blob behind the water-streaked glass. He knocks for a third time. The person gets larger as they move closer and then the door unlocks and swings open with a wave of the person’s hand.

“What—”

“You know,” Bucky says, stepping over the threshold. He bites back a shiver as a wave of magic washes over him, verifying that he has no ill intent. “You are a hard person to find.”

“Yeah, some people would take that as a hint,” Tony Stark states flatly, crossing his arms over his chest as he glares at Bucky.

~

Bucky is born with the ability to see magic. Or, at least, that’s the sfigmentlest way to explain it, if not the most accurate. Just about everyone can “see” magic but what they see are actually just the effects of magic—what was produced or what was done. Bucky has the ability to actually see the threads of magic. It’s a Barnes family gift, although none of the Barnes mages have had this ability in nearly two centuries. Bucky is the first in a very long time and because of that, he ends up having to go to school rather than being trained at home by the family mage (also known as Ma to Bucky and his sister).

It's at school that he meets his best friend, Stevie, and Stevie’s other best friend, Tony. Tony is a bit of an oddball, not that Bucky and Steve are incredibly popular either. Steve should be popular because of his dragon heritage and the power that brings him but he comes into his inheritance late and has a strong sense of morality and that gets him into trouble, more often than not. And Bucky just ends up following behind him.

But Tony—Tony is hard to pin down. He has incredible amounts of power, which is unusual in a mage from the Jarvis line. He’s a lot younger than most of the other kids, which isn’t so unusual for people with a lot of power—Bucky can think of a couple examples off the top of his head of people who went to school early because of their powers—but all those people went to school early because they didn’t have control, and Tony is nothing if not controlled. He doesn’t much look like either of his parents and the way he acts sometimes… it’s clear that he’s been through a lot, is all.

It’s not until their fourth year that Bucky starts putting the pieces together, and it starts when he finds out that Tony doesn’t actually get his powers from the Jarvis line but from the Carbonell line instead. He wasn’t supposed to overhear that but he and Steve had gotten in trouble again and were sitting outside the Headmistress’s office while she finished up a meeting with the Jarvises.

That’s when he’d heard it: “The Carbonell magic is strong in Tony,” the Headmistress had said, and that had been all Bucky had heard as the pieces had started falling into place. It had always puzzled Bucky how Tony’s magic, so suited to big things, had come from the Jarvises, both of whom were more skilled in household charms and enchantments, but if Tony was adopted… Adoption was rare in magical families, as magic was so often tied to filial lines, but it wasn’t unheard of, and that explained so much about Tony.

He spends some time in the library after that, researching the Carbonells. They’re an old line, originating in Italy, before coming to the Americas in the late sixteenth century. They’re known for producing powerful mages with the exact same proficiency in metallurgy that Tony’s always demonstrated. The last of them, Maria, had married one of the Starks, a newer family with a proficiency in elemental magics—another of Tony’s skills, Bucky realizes—and that’s where the trail goes cold. He never finds another mention of the Carbonells, or the Starks for that matter, in any of the old history books.

But there has to be more to the story, Bucky knows. Because there’s Tony, who looks just like Maria Carbonell, and that means there has to be more. However, he never brings it up. That’s Tony’s story, and if he doesn’t want to tell them, he doesn’t have to.

He never stops hoping that Tony will, though.

~

Tony is looking at him now, eyes dark and arms crossed. Bucky has changed into a pair of sweats and a t-shirt he’d brought with him as his clothes had ended up drenched, even from just the short run from the car and back out to grab Alpine and his travel bag. His clothes are drying by the fire now as Alpine explores the apartment, sniffing around curiously. Bucky is curious as well, but he’s been so busy drinking in the sight of Tony after almost two years of nothing that he hasn’t taken the time yet to look around.

“What are you doing here, Bucky?” Tony asks eventually.

He shrugs. “I came to find you.”

“Thought I made it obvious I didn’t want to be found.”

“I thought we had unfinished business,” Bucky says quietly. He gazes at Tony steadily until Tony squirms and turns away, busying himself with the coffeepot on the counter. He prepares two cups of coffee, one with more sugar than most people can stand and one with more milk than coffee, and hands the one with milk to Bucky.

Bucky takes one sip and blinks in surprise. “This is decaf,” he says.

“Yeah, and?”

“Tony, you don’t drink decaf. You called it the devil’s brew.”

There’s a hint of a smile lurking around the corners of Tony’s mouth as he raises his own cup to his mouth. “I’d forgotten about that.”

“Seems like you’ve forgotten a lot of things.”

“Like what?”

“Like how I promised you I’d follow you anywhere.”

Tony stills for a moment before he puts his cup back down on the counter. “Bucky—”

“Tony, why?” Bucky asks, not even bothering to hide the anguish in his voice. It’s how he’s felt every day since Tony disappeared two years ago. “You told me we’d talk the next day, only I woke up to find you’d run. Did I push too hard? Was it not what you wanted?” He stops, frustrated and upset, and scrubs his hand over his face.

“Bucky, no,” Tony says, dismayed. He moves forward, taking Bucky’s hands between his. “It wasn’t you. You have to believe me. It was never you.”

“Then what was it?”

Tony bites his lip, hesitating. Even without using his Sight, Bucky can see golden magic swirling under Tony’s skin, pooling at his hands where they’re touching Bucky’s. He blinks and now he can see his own magic, cool silver, gathering at his fingertips, aching to reach out and touch Tony’s. Their magic has always been compatible, always stronger when they’re together, even before Bucky figured out his complicated feelings for Tony.

“Doll?” he asks, immediately regretting the pet name when it makes Tony flinch. He doesn’t take it back though. This is who he is, a little old-fashioned and a little flirty and a lot in love with Tony Stark.

“It’s me,” Tony eventually admits, looking down at their hands as though he can see the magic too. “I got scared. It’s—I’m not who you think I am.”

“Not what? Not a Jarvis? Tony, I’ve known that for ten years.”

Tony’s head jerks up so fast Bucky��s own neck aches in sympathy. “What did you say?”

“Tony, I know you’re not a Jarvis,” Bucky says again, patiently. He’s never admitted this to anyone before, let alone Tony. He can afford to be careful right now.

“How did you know that?” Tony breathes. “We’ve never told anyone.”

“Except for the Headmistress,” Bucky points out. “You prob’ly had to tell her so she could help you with your abilities.”

“We did,” Tony whispers.

He shrugs. “Stevie and I overheard her one time. She said your magic came from the Carbonell line. I got curious, thought it might explain why you and the Jarvises are so different, so I looked it up.”

“You didn’t think that was invading my privacy?”

The words are harsh but Tony doesn’t look upset. He looks—hopeful, almost, like he wants to believe Bucky knows everything about him and doesn’t judge him for it. It makes Bucky bold and he steps forward, right into Tony’s space, as he tugs one of his hands free and uses it to tuck one of Tony’s curls behind his ear, fingers brushing against his cheek.

“You are a puzzle I’ve only ever wanted to solve,” Bucky murmurs, bowing his head to rest his forehead against Tony’s. His hand cups Tony’s cheek for the briefest moment and then falls to his shoulder. Tony closes his eyes and inhales shakily. “But the moment the trail went cold, I stopped looking. It didn’t seem right to keep digging.”

“What did you find?” Tony asks.

“Two names: Howard Stark and Maria Carbonell, that’s it.”

Tony nods. “Those were my parents.”

“Were?”

“Could be are. I don’t know where they went after they left me, but I stopped calling them mine the moment they were gone.”

“What happened?” He feels Tony tense under his hand and quickly adds, “If you want to tell me. Don’t feel like you have to.”

“No, it’s—I want to,” Tony says, sounding frustrated. The space between his brows furrows in irritation. “I’ve just never told anyone and—I’m not sure I’m ready to tell the full story yet. It’s a lot.”

“Whatever you’re ready for, then. And when you’re ready for the rest, I’ll be right here to listen.”

Tony takes a deep breath, steadying himself. “I was born at Rosewood Manor,” he says quietly.

“That place outside of town?”

“Mmhmm. That’s my magic you probably saw guarding it.”

Bucky sucks in a sharp breath. “Tony, that place looks like it hasn’t had anyone living there for fifteen years.”

“Over twenty actually. I was three when—when that happened.”

“You were three? And you had that kind of control?”

Tony laughs humorlessly. “Believe me, that night I had no control at all.” He falls silent. Bucky waits for more, but Tony seems to be done talking for tonight, so he turns his head and kisses the corner of Tony’s mouth instead.

“Thank you for telling me,” he says.

Tony grimaces. “Not like I told you much of anything.”

“You told me what you were comfortable with. Believe me, doll, after two years of nothing—”

“You keep doing that,” Tony interrupts. “Calling me doll.”

Bucky hesitates. “I thought you liked it when I did that.”

Tony looks away, a bitter twist to his mouth. “I left.”

“Yeah…”

“I left right after you kissed me because I was scared and couldn’t face up to what was going on between us even though I promised we’d talk.”

Bucky waits, sure that if he stays silent, Tony will explain further. It’s a trick that he’s used in the past and it’s always worked. Sure enough, after another couple moments:

“You know, I was so sure you were dating Steve? Let me finish please,” Tony says calmly, holding up a hand when Bucky opens his mouth. “You don’t know what it was like. I might have met Steve first but it was so clear that you two were a lot closer than I would ever be with him. So yes, I was convinced you two were dating and that I was alone in my feelings and when I found out I wasn’t, I panicked. I thought it was Tony Jarvis you liked, not—”

“I like you,” Bucky interrupts, unable to keep hearing Tony talk about how he’d thought Bucky wasn’t serious about him, when he thinks maybe it’s the only thing he’s ever been serious about. “I like you as Tony Jarvis, Tony Carbonell, Tony Stark, or just plain Tony.”

“Like?” Tony asks shyly.

Bucky grins and kisses the other corner of Tony’s mouth. “Do you think I would have kept searching for you for two years if I didn’t still like you?”

Tony leans back for a moment, searching his eyes for something before he eventually says, “And what about Tony Barnes?”

Bucky’s heart about stops. He wheezes out, “You—”

“It’s not—I needed a name when I came back to Ravenspoint. I didn’t want anyone to know who I was and it’s a small town. People know every other name I go by, but—I didn’t think you’d mind or I wouldn’t—”

Bucky can’t stop himself anymore. He frames Tony’s face in his hands and kisses him soundly. It’s closed-mouthed and chaste and it’s still the best damn kiss he’s ever had, next to the only other time he kissed Tony. Tony’s hands flutter in the air for a second before wrapping around Bucky’s waist, clutching him to him.

“I love you calling yourself by my name,” he says hoarsely, pulling away long enough to get the words out before he kisses Tony again. “And one day, I swear I’ll give you that name for real, forever and always.” This time, it’s Tony who whfigmenters and kisses him again, sucking Bucky’s tongue into his mouth as Bucky’s hands slide back into his hair to hold him right where he wants him.

“Wait,” Tony pants, struggling against Bucky’s grip to move away. Bucky lets him go reluctantly, gratified when Tony only moves a couple inches. “How did you find me?”

“Your magic,” Bucky tells him, trailing kisses across every inch of his face. “It’s been callin’ out to me since the day you left, leavin’ me a trail to follow.”

“Lucky me,” Tony whispers.

And as Bucky kisses him again, unable to resist for a single second, he thinks to himself, No. Lucky me.

[pitch-pearl-void]

Hi! I love your work! Do you take requests? If so, would you mind doing something like maybe Skulker is looking for Phantom so in the middle of the day he comes to find Fenton to use him as bait while he's in the middle of class? And the class' reaction, because holy crap Fenton knows a ghost, and Phantom coming to save him? If not, that's totally fine, too!

I love the idea! I may have gotten a little carried away...whoops ^-^’ I focused more on Fenton and his classmates than on the romance, but I hope you’ll like it!

A paper football smacked directly into Fenton’s neck. Fenton cringed and gritted his teeth. In the desk behind him, he heard Dash snicker and the dull smack of two hands connecting as he high-fived Kwan. Mr. Lancer continued droning on about Shakespeare’s career, too passionate to notice Dash’s behavior—assuming he would care. He would probably just see it as another form of punishment for Fenton’s actions.

Not punishment for taking too many bathroom breaks or arriving late to class, though. No, Fenton’s days as a misbehaved student were supposed to be over, brought to an end by his and Phantom’s separation. He no longer needed to escape class to fight ghosts. He no longer needed to think about ghosts at all.

In theory…

Avoiding ghosts might have worked if Fenton could just stop thinking about his other half. 

For weeks after they had separated, they had barely spoken, but then Fenton had to go and open his big mouth, invite Phantom to play a round on his video game, driven by some instinct or by some longing he couldn’t put a name to. Phantom was just…he was his missing half. Being around him felt right. It wasn’t that crazy that Fenton had missed him, right? That they had stayed up nearly all night talking, playing, and joking? That Phantom visited almost every night, that they were rebuilding something new between them?

There was just so much to talk about, so many things to share, so many things to experience together in ways they never had as one. A month had passed with the two of them growing closer, and Fenton was losing his mind, he was sure of it.

What else but madness would have made him meet Phantom’s kiss with one of his own?

He had gotten caught texting Phantom. There was just so much they needed to figure out about what they were feeling… Lancer had confiscated his phone and moved Fenton to the front of the class where Lancer could “keep an eye on him.”

A fourth football landed without Lancer’s eye seeing a thing.

Fenton groaned and dropped his forehead onto the desk.

“Head up, Mr. Fenton,” Mr. Lancer ordered without looking.

Amazing, Fenton thought irritably as he lifted his head. He knows and sees everything except—

An invisible hand seized Fenton’s wrist, cold metal plates painfully squeezing his arm. He drew in a sharp breath. Before he could call out a warning, the ghost flew above his desk, lifting Fenton by his arm until they were at eye-level several feet from the ground.

Skulker, fully visible now, grinned viciously at Fenton’s stunned face.

“Crime and Punishment!” Mr. Lancer yelped.

The other students jumped from their seats, screaming. They ran for the door, but Skulker activated something by flicking the fingers of his free hand, and green electric bars sprang up in front of the door and the windows. The students cried out in fear and backed away from the bars. Fenton grabbed the arm holding his wrist and tried to pull himself up or at least relieve the strain on his shoulder and wrist. He grunted, kicked his feet, but he couldn’t manage a chin-up one-handed. He could barely do them with two.

“A bit overkill,” Skulker mused aloud, staring at Fenton’s classmates, “I have my bait, I don’t need hostages, but perhaps one of you lot can perform a service for me.”

“Skulker,” Fenton growled under his breath, trying to slip his voice underneath the fearful screams and yelling so he would only be heard by Skulker, “what the heck are you doing? You know I’m not half-ghost anymore, let me go.”

Skulker laughed, a cruel, creepy sound due to the robotic speakers and the natural echo in his voice. Fenton’s classmates shrank back from him. “You now serve a new purpose for me, whelp.” He swung Fenton by his wrist, Fenton’s legs swinging freely, and then, before Fenton could squeak a protest, he tossed him.

Fenton cried out and tried uselessly to activate powers that were no longer there. It took five seconds. Five seconds of falling before he landed on the cement floor. 

Air burst from his lungs. Pain and shock exploded from his back. He tried gasping in a breath, but his lungs didn’t seem to be working. He choked before managing a ragged inhale.

Skulker’s boot pressed down on his chest before he could roll over and curl into a ball. Fenton groaned, his back screaming, but he wrapped his fingers around the boot and tried to shove it off. He couldn’t. Without ghost powers, he was too weak. He was too disoriented. Had he hit his head? He thought his back took the full brunt of his fall, but his head might have bounced back.

Add super healing to the list of powers I wish I had right now, he thought woozily.

He had never hurt so much during a ghost fight, not even when he had been thrown through buildings. He had made craters in pavement and climbed out of the pit with only a sore shoulder. If this was the sort of dangers full humans faced during every ghost attack…

No wonder they always ran away.

Except Sam and Tucker… Fenton pried his eyes open and turned his head toward his classmates, desperately searching for the friends he knew wouldn’t be there. They shared a math class with Valerie during final period. Skulker must have waited until Fenton was isolated from any other ghost hunter who could help. But why?

“Where is your communications device?” Skulker asked him.

Fenton turned his head and blinked stupidly up at him. “What?”

“Your…” Skulker snapped his fingers together as he searched for the word he needed, “rectangular device. Phone. Phone! Yes, that was it. Where is your phone, whelp?”

Fenton tipped his head back and looked toward Lancer’s desk. It was probably there somewhere, but…he could see Mr. Lancer and a few of his classmates huddling behind the desk. He lowered his chin and looked incredulously up at Skulker again. “That’s why you’re attacking me? My phone? What the hell do you need my phone for?”

“Dude,” one of the jocks, Brad, hissed. “What the fuck are you doing, Fenton? Shut up and do what he says!”

Skulker snorted—or mimicked one, anyway. “Better do as the other whelps advise, child. You’re a great deal more delicate without your powers.”

Fenton hissed in a breath, but his classmates would hopefully miss the implication—if he spoke fast enough and gave them something else to think about. “Tell me what you want my phone for, first.”

Brad groaned.

“He’s a dead man,” Kwan whispered.

“To contact your ghost half, why else?” Skulker said disdainfully.

Fenton wanted to scream. “I don’t have one!” he said, the words almost tripping over each other as they rushed from his mouth.

“What?” Skulker’s menacing tone softened into something almost civil. “A phone? You don’t have a phone? Perhaps I can make one for you. I understand these devices are important to human development. And it would serve my purposes to be able to reach one ghost child through the other.”

“Stop—Damn it, Skulker! I don’t have a ghost half!” Fenton tipped his chin up and raised his voice. “I am one hundred percent human!”

“Oh yes, now,” Skulker grumbled bitterly. “You two have cheated me of a unique specimen.”

“Wow, sorry,” Fenton deadpanned.

“What the fuck are they talking about?” Dash demanded. He tried to whisper it, but his high-pitched voice easily carried his words to Fenton and Skulker. “What the hell is a ghost half? Why is that robot ghost after Fenton?”

Fenton glared pointedly up at Skulker, trying to communicate a silent “look what you did” reprimand, but Skulker only moved his head in a way that made Fenton think the tiny ghost inside it was rolling his eyes. A blade shot out of the armor’s wrist. Skulker touched the flat side to Fenton’s cheek, and Fenton drew in a breath, the cold touch of the blade spreading throughout his body.

“Your phone, whelp,” Skulker said, once again sounding menacing. A few of Danny’s classmates wailed in terror.

Fenton snapped, “I don’t have it!”

Skulker twisted the blade, the edge pressing into Fenton’s cheek. “Last chance, whelp.”

“Wait!” Lancer stood from behind his desk. Paulina and a couple other students stood with him, looking petrified. “Stop, stop!” He lifted Fenton’s phone above his head. “I have it! You can have it if you release him.”

“No, I don’t think I will.” Skulker blade moved away from Fenton’s cheek, however, allowing Fenton to breathe a little easier. “Awaken it for me.” Skulker’s false lips spread into a wicked grin. “We shall be making a little phone call…”

Fenton narrowed his eyes.

“Uhh…” Lancer began, uncertainly. “It’s, uh, it’s asking for some sort of password?”

“His password is numerical!” Mikey called from within the crowd of students clustered around the door. “A pin! Seven-eight-nine-zero.”

“Hey!” Fenton cried. “How do you know that?”

“You have other things to worry about, Fenton!” Kwan reminded him pointedly.

Lancer typed in the pin number and then stared down at the phone like he was facing down a complex puzzle. “How, uh, do I make a phone call on this thing?”

“Oh here!” Paulina snatched the phone from Lancer’s hands. “You just press the little phone icon, see?” She glanced up at Skulker and seemed to shrink in on herself, her confidence faltering. Fenton couldn’t really blame her. He remembered being terrified of Skulker the first few times he had met him too. “Um, what’s the phone number?”

“Child?” Skulker nudged Fenton’s cheek with the flat of his blade again.

Fenton kept his head turned toward Paulina and glared at Skulker from the corner of his eyes. “What?”

“The phone number, human child.”

Fenton snorted. “You haven’t said what you want to call him for yet.”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“Spell it out for me.”

“In my efforts to study my prey’s habits, I have noticed the two of you getting…” Skulker tilted his head, “closer, shall we say? You have been spending a great deal of time together, lately. I don’t know how far things have gotten, but the signs of a ghost in love are fairly obvious. That is a weakness I can use. You are a weakness. Once he knows I have you, my prey will come to me.”

“You should change your name to Stalker,” Fenton grumbled, blushing.

The blush worsened as his classmates made little “ohhh” sounds of dawning understanding.

“Fenton has a ghost boyfriend,” Mikey said, his laugh too strained to be natural. “That must be what they mean by ghost half!!”

“Idiot,” Kwan groaned. “If this ghost doesn’t kill him, his parents are going to.”

Dash cupped his hands over his mouth and shouted, “Hey, Fenton, maybe you should dump your kinky ghost boyfriend before you get the rest of us killed over it!”

“Oh, fuck you!” Fenton shouted back, turning into the blade in order to glare at his classmates. “We’re not dating! We just kind of—He just…it’s complicated!"

Skulker snapped, “Whelp!” and turned Fenton’s head with the blade until Fenton’s glare had resettled on the ghost. “His phone number. Now!”

“No!” Fenton snapped back. “Forget it! I’m not going to let you use me as bait so you can—”

He cut off with a shriek of pain as the point of Skulker’s blade sliced across his cheek. Hot blood gushed from the wound and spilled toward his ear. He writhed under Skulkers boot and reached up to cover the wound, but Skulker’s blade slapped his hands away. Fenton’s classmates were screaming again, the tentative calm Fenton’s behavior had inspired shattered by the sight of so much blood. Tears streamed from Fenton’s eyes. Skulker slapped his hands away again before he could touch his face.

“You!” the hunter pointed at Paulina who quailed and shrank into Lancer. He protectively wrapped his arms around her. “Those devices can capture photos, can they not? Take a picture of this and send it to my prey as well.”

Paulina, trembling, shrieked, “I don’t know the number!”

Skulker looked down pointedly at Fenton. “Shall I give you a matching gash on your other cheek or will you cooperate for once, whelp?”

Fenton glared up at him and gritted his teeth against the pain.

“Look through his contacts!” Mikey shouted.

“Stop—” Fenton gasped in pain as speaking stretched the wound in his cheek. “—Stop helping him!”

“We’re not helping him we’re helping you, you suicidal maniac!” Dash shouted back.

Paulina’s hands shook as she maneuvered through Fenton’s phone. “What would the contact be? What—what do—h-how will I know which one is…?”

“He was texting someone during class,” Lancer said quickly. “That may be your best bet.”

“Mr. Lancer!” Fenton protested.

“Alright!” Paulina nearly sobbed. “Alright, I got it!” She pressed the phone to her ear, and Fenton squirmed under Skulker’s boot.

“Paulina, don’t!” he pleaded. “He’s just going to spring Skulker’s trap!”

“Hello?” Paulina gasped into Fenton’s phone, apparently ignoring Fenton. “Are you Danny’s ghost boyfriend, er ghost half? Yes, my name is Paulina, you have to come quick, there’s a ghost here!” Fresh tears escaped her eyes. “I don’t know his name!”

Skulker grinned. “He’ll know me once you take our picture.” He nudged Fenton’s chin with his blade, forcing his head to turn toward Paulina so his right cheek rested on the floor and the wound on his left cheek was exposed to the air. “Behave, child. Let him see the injury.”

“Uh, hold on,” Paulina told Phantom, “he wants me to take a picture…I don’t know! I’m just doing what I’m told!”

Fenton glared at Skulker from the corner of his eyes as best he could. “You’re a real piece of work, you know that?”

“I know.” Skulker grinned viciously down at him. “It’s part of the fun.”

Fenton heard the camera on his phone make an artificial shutter sound and clenched his jaw, the wound on his cheek shrieking.

“O-okay,” Paulina stuttered. “I’m sending it.” She pressed the phone to her ear again. “Did you get it yet? Danny’s bleeding really bad. If you can find Danny Phantom, tell him we need his help!”

Skulker tipped back his head and laughed. “Yes! Tell Phantom to come at once!”

“Oh!” Paulina exclaimed. “You got it? Yeah, it’s a lot of blood, but—” Her expression froze. Her eyebrows furrowed and she pulled the phone away from her ear so she could glare at it. “He hung up on me!”

Skulker chortled. “Excellent! He will rush over here at his fastest speed, don’t you think, human whelp?”

“Probably,” Fenton bit out through his clenched teeth.

Skulker removed his boot from Fenton’s chest, and Fenton didn’t waste any time rolling onto his stomach. He frantically pushed himself onto his hands and feet and scrambled toward his classmates huddled by the door. They backed away from him like he had some sort of disease. Skulker fired something at him—a net—and Fenton crashed to the ground again. He screamed his frustration and struggled against the ropes. Kicking. Pulling. Twisting.

“Damn it!” he howled.

Skulker laughed delightedly at his efforts. He stomped toward Fenton, his mechanical boots making hissing, clicking noises as he approached. “I see you are as fierce as ever, whelp.” He grabbed ahold of the net and lifted Fenton into the air. Fenton hissed as his weight caused the thin ropes to bite into his skin. “But woefully weak. I wonder…if I tied to you to your other half, would you slow him down?” His grin grew more vicious. “That would make for an interesting game.”

Fenton wiggled in the net, trying to get comfortable as he glared at Skulker. “You’ll have to catch him first.”

“It’s only a matter of time, now. His protective instincts and weakness for you shall be his downfall this day.”

Fenton growled through his teeth and kicked Skulker’s chest as best he could through the net.

Skulker snorted. “That tickled…”

“Are you guys sure this was a good idea?” Nathan asked anxiously. “I mean, inviting another ghost here? Isn’t that just going to result in this classroom turning into a battlefield?”

Fenton’s classmates murmured uneasily to each other.

“Not if Phantom gets here first,” Dash declared, his voice only trembling slightly. “He beat this ghost before! He can do it again, no problem!”

“Would you like to tell them, or shall I?” Skulker asked Fenton in an almost conversational tone.

Fenton scowled at him and slumped in his unwelcome hammock. All of his and Phantom’s efforts to keep whatever was building between them secret until they could figure things out for themselves had just been shattered by Skulker’s attack. “Fine,” he grumbled. “Go ahead. They’ll find out when he gets here, anyway…”

Skulker threw his arms outward, Fenton and his net swinging from his fist. Fenton hissed his name in complaint, but Skulker ignored him. “I am Skulker!” Skulker declared in a ringing voice they probably heard from several classrooms down. “The greatest hunter in all the realms! I have vowed to capture the ghost child known as Danny Phantom, and now thanks to all of you and Phantom’s other half…” Skulker raised the net and grinned victoriously at Fenton’s scowling face, “my prey is at this moment speeding toward my trap…”

The quiet that fell over Fenton’s classmates was deafening, tension adding an oppressive pressure to the air so that it felt like Fenton was suffocating.

It was broken by Paulina.

“No!” she screamed. Fenton flinched, assuming her reaction had to do with him and Phantom’s feelings for each other, but Paulina proved him wrong as she fumbled with Fenton’s phone. “No, no, no!” She pressed the phone to her ear. “Pick up, pick up, pick up! Don’t come here, Ghost Boy! Don’t come!”

Skulker laughed. “It’s far too late for that! I have studied my prey well. His temper is always at its most irrational when one he cares for has been harmed.”

Fenton pushed against the confines of his net again. “You bastard,” he growled.

“It’s just Fenton,” Dash said weakly. “Phantom wouldn’t risk everything just for Fenton, would he?”

“But Danny is his ‘other half,’” Mikey pointed out. “That’s what the robot called them. It might be a ghost thing? Danny could be special to him.”

“What, like soulmates?” Kwan asked, sounding almost intrigued.

“It’s Fenton!” Dash gestured at Fenton’s hunched form inside the net. “Just look at him! There’s no way he could be Phantom’s…other half. Soulmate. Thing. No!”

Others murmured their assent.

Fenton groaned. “I can’t decide if being called Phantom’s soulmate is better or worse than the alternative,” he whispered.

“Better,” Skulker whispered back. He lifted his other arm and stared at the screen on his wrist, only partially listening to the humans. “It’s far more amusing.”

“Yeah, for you.”

“Excuse me?” Amanda shoved Dash’s shoulder and pointed at Fenton. “Danny can’t be Phantom’s soulmate?’ Who here has been acting like a total badass? Who just bantered with a ghost while they were threatening him? Who got his cheek slashed because he was trying to be a hero? Like, uh, hello? Are you guys blind? They’re practically the same person!”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Fenton groaned.

Skulker chortled.

“Fenton is nothing like Phantom!” Dash objected, sounding offended.

Fenton struggled in his net and searched the classroom for signs of Skulker’s trap. The only thing Skulker had activated were the glowing bars in front of the door and windows, but that was just to keep the humans trapped in the room, wasn’t it? That was why they only blocked physical exits and not the walls or ceiling.

Fenton narrowed his eyes. None of his classmates had actually touched the bars, they had only backed away from them. Skulker might have used the bars for the fear factor, not as a true barrier, and if that were the case, it made sense for them to only block the door and windows. He only needed to stop the humans from getting or receiving help.

“Hey!” Fenton shouted. “Someone run through those bars and get Sam and Tucker!”

His classmates stared incredulously at him. None of them moved an inch.

“It’s far too late for that as well,” Skulker said gleefully. “My prize shall be here in five, four, three, two…” he paused dramatically, “one.”

Phantom flew through the ceiling, his hands already coated with green energy. His head jerked left and right as his eyes searched the room, coming to a stop on Fenton in his net. His eyes widened and his jaw clenched. Fenton swore. His classmates shouted, some cheering Phantom’s name, others screaming for him to run, but Phantom’s eyes narrowed and he looked too pissed to think about running.

“Skulker,” he growled, his glare moving toward Skulker, “let him go.”

“That would be counterproductive.” Skulker lifted Fenton in his net and gave it a little wiggle. Fenton grimaced as he swayed. Phantom’s gaze jerked back to him. Something dropped to the floor, but Phantom’s eyes had become fixated on Fenton again. “If you want him, Ghost Child, come and get him.”

Phantom bared his teeth.

“Don’t do it!” Dash shouted.

Phantom shot forward, one fist pulled back for a truly epic punch. Skulker floated back a few steps, and as soon as Phantom flew over the space where they had been standing, a beam of light shot up from a small cube on the floor. Phantom’s eyes widened. Fenton didn’t understand until a vortex began to pull Phantom down into the cube.

“The Fenton Thermos,” Fenton gasped.

“Inspired by it,” Skulker corrected. “I have endured the indignity often enough to replicate its effects.”

Phantom fought against the pull, struggling to fly out of its range, but the cube floated off the ground and followed his movements. The tip of his spectral tail touched the cube, and in moments it sucked him in completely.

“Phantom!” Fenton and his classmates shouted. He struggled against his net, pulling on the ropes and kicking his feet outward.

Skulker laughed his triumph as he walked toward the cube. Fenton stared in horror at the little black box, his chest aching. Phantom had been captured because of him. It wasn’t over, not by a long shot, but…it wasn’t looking good. Skulker bent down and picked up the cube. He looked between it and Fenton, a wide, vicious grin splitting his face.

Fenton glared at him. “What?”

“How long has it been, human child?” Skulker asked him. “Two years?”

“Just about,” Fenton mumbled.

“It has been a long hunt…”

It’s not over yet, Fenton thought. He tried fitting his fist through the gaps between ropes, but it was no good. The holes were too small. “You cheated!”

Skulker’s eyes narrowed. “Cheated?”

“Cheated!” Fenton repeated.

“I baited and set a trap!”

“You cheated!” Fenton looked at his classmates. They were muttering and staring at the black cube in Skulker’s hands like they had just witnessed something impossible. “Right, guys? He cheated!”

They stared back at Danny with haunted eyes until Dash surged forward, pointing angrily at Skulker, and shouted, “Cheater!”

Starr gasped and exclaimed. “Yes! Cheater!” Her voice took on a practiced tone, and she chanted, “Cheat-er, cheat-er!” until the rest of the class caught on and began to chant it with her.

“I did not cheat!” Skulker yelled, offended, but the class continued chanting. He growled viciously, growing increasingly infuriated by the witnesses to his victory calling foul. It was exactly the kind of pride snatching maneuver Fenton had hoped for, and he waited anxiously to see if Skulker would take the bait.

He did.

“FINE!” Skulker roared. He lifted his arm higher and glared at Fenton as the other students quieted and shrank back from him. “I shall give you and your other half one last chance, whelp.” Slowly, he spread his metal lips apart in an angry grin. “I believe you know how this game is played. Let’s see how well Phantom can keep you alive when he’s tethered to you.”

Fenton sucked in a breath. It wasn’t unexpected, given Skulker’s previous comments, but all the same it was frightening, being hunted. He looked at his classmates. They were his only chance to leave a message, and he shouted, frantic, “Tell Valerie!” before electricity arced through the net into his body. He screamed, arching his back, before everything went mercifully black.

 I would absolutely love to continue this as an actual short story. Like, you’ve all heard of “Danny’s classmates taking a field trip into the Ghost Zone,” now get ready for “Danny’s classmates leading a rescue attempt into the Ghost Zone to free Phantom and his other half/boyfriend Danny!” Ahh it would be so much fun. Valerie would place herself in charge (because she’s actually been through this before, and because she won’t say why they all assume its because she once dated Phantom too which pisses her off) and she and Sam would butt heads a bit on what to do. Tucker would 100% brag about how much he knows about the GZ to Dash and friends like “yeah, that’s right, I’m a badass” but they’re all still reeling over the idea Phantom is 1) gay 2) dating Fento-loser.

Phantom and Fenton, meanwhile, are doing their best to stay alive on Skulker’s island while also dealing with the romantic tension between them.

I would absolutely love it. I have no idea how I would pull it off. Action scenes are my weak point, and I’m not entirely sure how I would sneak all these kids past the Fenton parents, if Jack and Maddie should even be told, if Lancer should go with the kids, or even if they could all fit in the Specter Speeder. RIP my idea lol. I think I might put it up on Ao3 just as a potential story some day? I’m not sure. It needs work, but I made leavemyelevator-alone wait long enough for this prompt lol

[justanotherpersonsuniverse]

Game Master Akuma AU by  crisisdparity

Xavier Duchamp was rather proud of himself. What he had before him was an absolute masterpiece of a campaign if he did say so himself. The product of over six months of study, research, and rebalancing efforts followed by two weeks of discussion with his five players to hash out schedules, meeting times, characters, backstories, potential character arcs, and getting them set up with a messaging app that was really good for sending discrete messages between the GM and the players. Valentine and her boyfriend Justin were onboard in an instant. Within days, he’d greenlighted their Half-Elf Bard of the College of Glamour whose spell list was 100% Illusion spells and Half-Orc Fighter (Eldritch Knight) who was focusing entirely on Abjuration as Rena Rouge and Carapace respectively. Olivia had spent a few days coming up with a Halfling Rogue and debating subclasses with him until settling on Scout. Along with some discussion over how her special magic item’s stunning and paralysis effect would work with Sneak Attack, the campaign had its Vesperia. Jeanette had gone back and forth with him for a week looking at various homebrew subclasses for her Gnome Artificer before they both agreed on one particular Master Tinkerer entry that would be balanced and do the character justice. And with that they had their Ladybug. Even Matt was on board with a stealthy human Chat the Barbarian using the Path of the Beast. The class choice was something Matt had insisted on (and that Xavier would have suggested anyway just for the high hit point totals given Matt’s history with characters dying) and he’d even come up with a backstory that Xavier felt was quite compelling compared to Matt’s usual efforts. Morally ambiguous, likely to be tempted by promises of power, but with a great deal of story potential to work with. Which was a relief. Getting a new player into their group to replace Matt was not something Xavier really felt comfortable with. There were too many unknowns with introducing a new person, far too many for him to risk his masterpiece on an unknown factor. He knew Matt. He could work with Matt. Despite the history. He’d put everything he had into this. Every known Akuma ever fought by the heroes had been made into a boss-tier foe. He’d carefully documented each and every power the heroes had shown to craft special legendary magic items based on the Miraculous. Hawkmoth and Mayura themselves were going to be the final bosses of his campaign. In response to criticism about the difficulty of his campaigns (he tried to make them fair, but still challenging enough to be memorable), he’d made several guest NPCs based on every other hero that had ever been called upon, statted out like player characters that might show up in a pinch to help. He even had a genuine Deus ex Machina that he was ready to use to get the players out of a truly impossible jam if they found themselves in one. Not always, but a few times at least. Enough to get them to the point where they wouldn’t need it anymore. —– It was thirty minutes in, right in the middle of exposition from the Guardian NPC, when Xavier got his first message on the app. Matt/Chat - Chat’s going to wait until everyone breaks up and follow Ladybug stealthily. Xavier/GM - Starting party conflict on the first session? Not what I’d advise, but it’s your character. Go ahead and make your Stealth roll now. Matt/Chat - <photo> 17 Xavier/GM - Yeah, that beats everyone’s passive Perception easily. You’ll sneak off handily without anyone noticing. —– “Jeanette, Ladybug is grabbed from behind by an unknown assailant. Roll to resist the grapple.” “Geez, already? Okay, what did my assailant get for their grapple? How screwed am I?” Xavier pretended to roll a die while consulting the message from Matt. “19.” “Okay, difficult, but not undoable… Crap.” “What’d you get?” “Nat 1…” “Hah! I rip off her earrings and claim them for myself! The Wish is mine!” “Seriously Matt?! What the hell?!” “Because it’s payback time! Payback for every character of mine killed in these hellish

campaigns!” “Oh, come on! You’re not the only person whose had a character die at this table! <GM> runs some pretty challenging campaigns, but they’re always fair!” “What about the time he killed Allric the Allmighty in a single round of combat?” “Dude, you tried to Leroy Jenkins straight into melee with a 4th-level Wizard that had a CON penalty. Even at full health you had like 10 hp.” “14!” “Not much better, dude.” “Guys, it’s fine. I can handle this. Okay, Matt. Chat the Barbarian managed to get the earrings-” “Yeah, Ladybug screams bloody murder when he rips them out. Good luck getting out of this in one piece.” “The moment Rena hears Ladybug scream, she bolts for the sound.” “So does Carapace.” “Vesperia too.” “-and with their current locations and movement speeds, I assume you’re all using the Dash action?, you’ve got maybe one round to decide on your Wish before they’re all over you, so choose carefully. And be aware that I plan to grant whatever you wish for in the worst possible way, just as I would if any of the others pulled this.” “Rena screams ‘What the HELL, Chat?! We’re supposed to protect the Miraculous, not use them for our own selfish purposes! Didn’t you listen to the Guardian? Such actions always bring misfortune upon those who misuse the Miraculous!’” “Because I am Chat, avatar of Destruction and I WISH THIS WORLD NEVER EXISTED!” There was dead silence at the table. “Matt… What… just… WHAT?!” “Hah! You like that?! How does it feel now that the shoe’s on the other foot, huh?!” “What the hell is your problem, Matt?!” “My problem? MY problem?! Do you know how much time I’ve spent making characters for these shitty campaigns only to have them turned into paste in one session?!” “Because you made primary spellcasters and played every last one of them like a barbarian, charging in headfirst without thinking! All of us breathed a sigh of relief when you revealed that your character finally matched your playstyle!” “I HATE BARBARIANS! THEY’RE BORING! I SHOULD GET TO PLAY CHARACTERS THAT CAN AT LEAST CHUCK FIREBALLS!” “THEN MAYBE YOU SHOULD STOP RUNNING THEM FACE FIRST INTO ENEMY SWORDS!” “NONE OF YOU COULD EVER HANDLE THE FACT THE I MAKE MORE AWESOME CHARACTERS THAN ANY OF YOU, SO YOU JUST LET THIS DOUCHEBAG KILL THEM OFF SO YOU WOULDN’T GET OVERSHADOWED BY HOW AMAZING I AM! WELL NOW I KILLED SOMETHING YOU ALL WORKED HARD ON, SO SUCK IT! I’M DONE WITH ALL OF YOU FOREVER!” “MATT! HEY! GET BACK HERE YOU JERK! MATT!” “Crap, I think Olivia might actually kill him this time…” “It’s going to take all of us to stop her from getting arrested at least.” Xavier just watched numbly as the rest of the group ran out of his apartment. Over six months of work. Gone in less than an hour. He’d given so much to making sure this would work. He’d apologized to Matt at least twice for every character of his that had died to get him to come back. He’d agreed to demand after demand just to keep a familiar face on board, never dreaming he’d pull something like this. He’d nearly gotten fired from his job trying to rearrange his schedule to fit with everyone else’s. They’d somehow, miraculously, gotten the whole day with no other obligations among any of them and decided to make the first session a true marathon. They’d meet in the morning after breakfast and eat both lunch and dinner at the game table before calling it a night late in the evening. It was barely 10:00 in the morning and the whole campaign he’d slaved over for months was kaput. He never noticed the butterfly landing on his custom Miraculous-themed Game Master screen and being absorbed into it. “Game Master, I am Hawkmoth. Few people appreciate the kind of effort that goes into making something truly grand and memorable. I shall give you the power to bring your entire world to life and in return, I ask only for a few simple things.” This was wrong. Hawkmoth was the worst of the worst. The kind of person who would be at home among all the final bosses he’d ever made for his campaigns. Heartless, manipulative, cruel. “Not

enough? Ah, but what is a game without players? How would you like to have the Miraculous heroes themselves run your great campaign? Surely they would be far more appreciative than those ungrateful peons that left you alone with nothing but the broken remains of your efforts.” He knew all these things, but the allure of bringing the world he’d spent so much time on to life… What creator could ever turn down an offer like that? “I, the Game Master, accept… Hawkmoth.” “Excellent. And in exchange, you shall bring me one of two things: The Miraculous, or the identities of their wielders.” “No.” Hawkmoth was silent for a moment. “I beg your pardon?” “I said no. I am the Game Master. I make the world. I craft the challenges. I decide the rewards. But I do not do anything for anyone. If you want these things, get them yourself.” “If you refuse me, it shall be very unpleasant for you.” “No. As Game Master, I decide the limits of all powers within my realm. And I decide that you have none over me.” And with that, he unleashed his creation over all of Paris, drawing everyone and everything within into his sphere of influence. —– Ladybug blinked the spots (ha) out of her eyes as the flash of light died down and looked at herself. She didn’t remember transforming, but she was clearly in her spots. Except her red and black superhero uniform didn’t usually look like it was headed to a steampunk convention. Looking around, she tried to figure out what had happened and her eyes landed on a familiar belt and pants combo. Problem. Whoever this was, their groin was at eye level for her. She looked up. And up. To find a grinning Chat Noir, sans anything resembling a shirt and having put on at least a foot of height and apparently a hundred pounds of pure muscle, grinning down at her. “How’s the weather down there?” Chat Noir chuckled as he flexed his unfairly attractive muscleman physique. “I WILL END YOU!” the heroine snarled, already 100% done with whatever new insanity Hawkmoth had cooked up. Characters: Ladybug - Gnome Artificer (Master Tinkerer - Homebrew) Chat Noir - Human Barbarian (Path of the Beast) —– Vesperia had to admit, as Akuma attacks went, this was pretty dope. She was currently a halfling. A halfling! If it wasn’t for her fantasy ensemble being yellow and black, she’d have thought she stepped straight out of Lord of the Rings. Of course, fantasy setting or not, there were still things she’d have rather left back in the real world. Like racism. And stigma against mixed couples. Not directed at her, but rather at the two walking down the street next to her. “You know, people are staring…” she said as she craned her head to look at her companions. “Let them,” the Half-Elf Rena Rouge (who looked like a cross between a musician and a belly dancer) said from her perch atop the shoulders of the heavily armored (and surprisingly buff) Half-Orc Carapace. “They’re just jealous because their boyfriends can’t carry them everywhere.” Characters: Vesperia - Halfling Rogue (Scout) Rena Rouge - Half-Elf Bard (College of Glamour) Carapace - Half-Orc Fighter (Eldritch Knight) —– Ryuko blinked as she studied the apparent snake-man-thing before her who claimed to be Viperion. She lifted a hand to study it and found what appeared to be bronze scales covering every inch of her skin. She sniffed herself, smelling the sharp tang of ozone. What was she? And why did she appear to be wearing wooden armor? Characters: Ryuko - Dragonborn (bronze) Druid (Circle of Storms - Third Party) Viperion - Naga Sorcerer (Divination Magic - Homebrew) —– Polymouse giggled as her friends ran over her. Okay, she’d freaked out a little to find a swarm of mice (with hair like hers no less) crawling all over her surprisingly mouse-like body when she’d come to in the middle of some forest somewhere. But she’d gotten over it pretty quickly. It helped that her new friends were adorable. It might help more if she could figure out where she was. Or find another person. Characters: Polymouse - Kobold

(rodentlike) Ranger (Swarmkeeper - Reskinned) —– Purple Tigress sighed as she felt the hair (fur?) on the top of her head being shifted around and twitched her new catlike ears in mild annoyance. “Are you quite done?” “Almost!” Pigella’s cheerful voice answered. “Your fur is so comfy!” Tigress sighed. Of course Pigella would end up being a fairy, and having her normal cheerful enthusiasm cranked up to previously unimagined levels. “I love you dearly, but if you start shouting 'hey listen’ I will stick you in a bottle.” “Aw, I love you too! Hey, what’s that?” “I think it’s my character sheet?” Characters: Purple Tigress - Tabaxi Paladin (Oath of Glory) Pigella - Fairy Cleric (Order Domain - Reskinned) —– “According to my analysis, we have been placed into what appears to be a Dungeons and Dragons campaign under 5th edition rules,” Pegasus stated in a mechanical monotone. “I am apparently a Warforged Wizard using the School of Conjuration whose spells create portals to bridge dimensions and summon or banish my intended targets. You are what is known as a Simic Hybrid, with the class of Monk, following the Way of the Drunken Master.” “Aweshum,” King Monkey slurred, his generally human appearance clad in monk’s robes marred by his monkey-like hands and feet as well as the monkey tail swishing behind him. “Why do you keep slurring like that? According to my sensors, your gourd is filled with only water.” “Gotta keep up appearanshes!” King Monkey grinned as he continued faking drunkenness. Characters: Pegasus - Warforged Wizard (School of Conjuration - Reskinned) King Monkey - Simic Hybrid Monk (Way of the Drunken Master) —– Hawkmoth studied the dark red horns growing out of his head in the mirror. The change in appearance was disconcerting, but he felt a rush of power in this new form that he’d never felt before. “Hmm… perhaps I can work with this…” “Speak for yourself…” Mayura muttered off to the side, ruffling her peacock-like feathers in annoyance as she tried to glare at the beak on her own face. Characters: Hawkmoth - Tiefling Dark Lord, Warlock Patron, Contracted by Lila Rossi, Volpina, Queen Wasp, and many others. Mayura - Kenku Assistant to the Dark Lord, Creator of Monsters —– “Oh, come on!” A figure in a cyan and white hooded robe complained as they waved a similarly colored umbrella around angrily. “Everyone else gets to be part of this adventure, why can’t I join them?” “Because you’re too OP. You’d completely break everything and remove all challenge from the adventure.” “But sitting around is no fun at all!” “If you like, I can put you in the position of the main quest giver. Your job would be to direct them towards their enemies and means of becoming stronger.” “That’s it?! I’m on 'mysterious hooded figure’ duty? Boo! Why can’t I fight with them?!” “Because you’re too OP. But if you insist, I’ll allow some Deus ex Machina interventions.” “YES!” “Five.” “I’m sorry?” “I’ll allow five interventions at your discretion to aid them when they are in peril. Once you have come to their aid five times, I will allow no more meetings save to impart quest information.” “That’s it?” “Yes. Choose your interventions wisely.” “So… if I manage to save one for when they fight Hawmoth and Mayura in the final battle…?” “Then I would allow you to join them of course.” “Score!” Characters: Bunnyx: Mysterious Hooded Figure, Deus-ex-Machina (5) Game Master: Akuma Lord of the Miraculous Campaign —– Addendum When the Game Master is finally purified and the damage reversed, it turns out that he took the effort to trap all of Paris in a temporal stasis bubble so that no matter how long passed inside no more than a few moments passed outside. Meaning that after what seemed like months in the bubble, it’s basically less than a minute after he was akumatized when everything is put back. All his friends, minus Matt, come back in bringing a new person named Zack that they vetted themselves to take Matt’s place in case he pulled something like what he did. And while he

has a similar playstyle to Matt, he’s savvy enough to know what kind of characters that is suited for and he loves playing barbarians. They all sit back down and restart the game they were all looking forward to.

—-

oh wow- that’s- wow. good job dude, seems like you worked on this a lot. Next time You should post this on your own account though, as this isn’t getting tagged or anything. Thank you though, you did a good job with this.

[theimpossiblehologramtree]

Making Queen members flower crowns would include

Pairing: Queen members x reader

Word count: (altogether) 1800+

Warnings: some sickening fluff, oh and swearing but that’s a standard, some slightly suggestive themes in john’s (implied sex) but nothing accually happens except a kiss

A/N: Hello you beautiful people! I’m back (don’t get used to that tho lol) I thought of this two years ago when i first saw Bohemian Rhapsody (SO 2 FUCKING YEARS AGO). Freddie’s is gender neutral. I tried to add a “keep reading” button but I’m not sure it works tbh because this hell of a side never cooperates.

Please keep in mind that English is not my first language.

🐝masterlist🐝

REQUEST IF YOU WANT MORE

☕buy me a Ko-fi!☕

Gifs aren’t mine. Credits to the owners.

Brian May

You were laying on Brian's lap, the sun hitting your face pleasantly. This week the weather was nice and warm, which was something extremely unusual in England, so the two of you decided to head out to the country and have a little picnic.

After what felt like hours spent in the car ("Brian, for Christ's sake, would you open the bloody window, I can't breathe!" and "Bri, I love you, but if we don't get there in five minutes, I'm going to murder you, I swear") you finally found a nice clearing, where you could relax and forget about the stresses of city life.

Brian put down a blanket on the grass, near a small stream that flew through the forest. He brought the bag with food and drinks (you didn't have a basket, so you had to improvise). 

You quickly put some sunscreen on your face and laid down, keeping your head propped on Brian's lap. He put a hat over his face and fell asleep, his chest rising steadily. 

After some time (that fucking wasp didn't let you sit in one place), you stood up and noticed many beautiful flowers, growing on a nearby bush. You got lost in picking up the most beautiful ones, admiring each one carefully. When you got enough, you sat back down and started tying the stems together.

Suddenly you got an idea. Careful not to wake him up, you began sticking the flowers in Brian's dark curls. 

Your now decorated boyfriend woke up and stretched, not noticing the colourful addition to his hair. This made you chuckle softly, but you decided to see how long it would take him to realize.

+"What is it, babe? Do I have something on my face?"

"No, Bri, I just remembered a funny joke, that's all."

"Oh tell me, then."

"What’s the difference between a lawnmower and an electric guitar?"

"Hm?"

"You can tune a lawnmower!"

You both enjoyed the rest of the day swimming in the stream, sunbathing and eating the snack you brought. And Brian somehow still didn't notice.

Until it was time for you to get home.

You got in the car ("Open the window now, it's like in the oven in here!") and Brian looked into the rear-view mirror.

+"Hey, (Y/N), what the fuck is that? I love it."

Roger Taylor

So honestly it would probably happen during one of his concerts.

You were backstage watching the show, enjoying every second of it. Freddie was in the middle of shouting some (very inappropriate) compliments to Brian's ass, slapping his buttcheeks. The crowd immediately went wild hundreds of fans screamed in unison. You chuckled under your breath, flashing a white smile at your beloved boyfriend Roger and his bandmates. You felt an arm wrap around your shoulders. Surprised, you turned around, your eyes meeting Mary's.

+"What's up, kiddo?" she smirked and patted your back.

"Oh, nothing much. Just Freddie being Freddie," you replied, making both of you erupt with laughter.

Suddenly you felt a familiar feeling form in the pit of your stomach. Out of nowhere, your hands became shaky, your breath shallow and quick. Feeling like you need some fresh air, you excused yourself.

+"Are you sure you're okay, (Y/N)?" Mary watched you carefully, her hand supporting you in case you fainted.

"Yes, Mary, I just need some fresh air. I'm extremely tired, and I haven't eaten anything since this morning" you reassured your friend. "I'm just gonna sit outside for a while."

"Do you want me to come with you?" she asked, still not convinced about your well-being.

"Yes, I wouldn't want to spoil the gig for you. I'll be back before you know it" you squeezed her hand and, after promising her to be careful, you headed outside.

You took a walk alongside the small patch of lawn beside the exit. After taking a couple of deep breaths, you noticed some daisies grow in the green grass. Without thinking much, you sat down and started picking them up and tying their stems together.

Your fingers worked quickly, making a beautiful flower crown, mindlessly.

Meanwhile, on stage, the boys were singing She makes me - a song that reminded Roger of you. He quickly glanced to his right, expecting to see your beautiful figure standing with Mary. But, much to his surprise, he couldn't see you anywhere. It was no secret that his eyesight was shit but, bloody hell, it wasn't that bad. His blue eyes were searching for you, frantically.

When the song ended, he quickly motioned to Freddie to take a quick break, while he went to check up on you. He practically sprinted to Mary, almost knocking down his drumkit and John.

+"You dumb fuck, watch where you're going, Rog!"

Usually, Roger would reply with some snarky comment, but at that moment he really didn't care. When he reached Mary, he didn't even need to ask her about you. 

+"She's outside. Needed some fresh air" the girl shooked her head towards the exit. 

Roger quickly walked outside, knowing that he couldn't stall the audience for too long. But at the same time, he must have made sure you were all right.  

He got out of the building and searched for you. He spotted to sitting on a small patch of grass, holding a pretty flower crown in your hands. His heart ached at this sight. 

+"Hello, love" he whispered, kneeling next to you. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, I am, Rog" you kissed his cheek. "I just felt a bit off, that's all." 

You felt your boyfriend press a kiss to your hair. You smiled at the feeling, leaning into his touch. 

You finally placed the finished flower crown on his head, brushing away loose strands of sweaty hair from his face, your hand gently brushing his temple. He took your tiny hands in his and kissed your fingers.

+"Do you wanna go back in there, sweetheart?" he asked sweetly, looking deeply into your eyes.

You nodded and pecked his lips, "Of course, Rog, I wouldn't want to miss any more of your show."

He smiled and lead you inside, placing his hand on the small of your back. You returned to Mary and wished your boyfriend good luck. 

Roger kept the flowers on his head throughout the whole gig, sending you a dashing smile and winking at you every now and again.

I just think Roger would look sososo pretty in a flower crown.

John Deacon

It was a lovely afternoon in London. You and your fiancé John decided to take a walk after the whole day in the studio, recording songs.

Taking a walk in a nearby park was a great way to destress and release the tension accumulated during the day. It was something John realized pretty early on in your relationship and took full advantage of it. He loved wandering along the pebbled pathways that swirled around beautiful trees and bushes full of colourful flowers. Being in the presence of nature made him feel at ease and helped him relax.

But the real reason why he enjoyed your walks so much was you. He adored seeing your face light up with joy when you saw a squirrel run up a branch of an old oak or when you spotted a particularly beautiful fish in the small pond. He could watch you pick up fallen leaves for ages and hear you talk to little kids in a playground, showing them the shiny rocks you collected along the way.

To be honest, he always dreamt about starting a family with you and seeing you get along with kids so well only increased that desire.

Often after a walk, he was in the mood™, which, considering his shy nature, always took you by surprise.

Oh man, he just loved taking a walk in the park.

And today was no different.

You were walking hand in hand, admiring the blossoming flowers. Occasionally, you would stop and pick them up, making a small bouquet in the process. White daisies, pink clovers and blue forget-me-nots accumulated with every step you took.

John was telling you about the new idea he had for a song, kissing your cheek every now and again.

Listening to him, you started to fiddle with the flowers, tying them in knots. After a while ("And then, I think, we could include a gong, you know?") you were done with your creation.

You put the flowers on John's head and kissed his temple.

+"What's that, darling?" he asked you, surprised.

"Nothing, but I think you look sensational, my love" you replied, smiling innocently.

You felt John's hand bring you closer to him. He kissed you, entangling his long and incredibly skilled fingers in your hair. The kiss soon turned into more heated one.

+"I'll show you how sensational I really am, pretty girl."

Freddie Mercury

So with Freddie, it was probably at one of his parties.

He invited you along to have a drink with him and his bandmates.

You usually weren't the one for big and loud parties, but he kept asking you and you gave in.

+"Oh okay, Fred, I'll do it," you said after the twentieth time he had asked you.

"Fantastic, (Y/N)!" he exclaimed, loudly clapping his hands. "Just remember to wear a costume."

But you didn't really want to dress up in fancy dresses or costumes from different eras. Calling Mary, you asked her for advice and she told you to just wear some accessories.

So before the party, you went to a small flower shop and bought a small bouquet of purple lilacs. At home, you made a flower crown, hoping that dressing up as a nymph would be enough.

When you got to Freddie's house, you were greeted by a crowd of people in colourful skirts and suits with fashionable patterns. That's when you found Freddie, Roger, Brian and John, chilling on a couch with their dates.

+"Oh, (Y/N), you look marvellous, darling!" exclaimed Freddie dressed as a king, while he stood up to embrace you in a warm hug.

"Thank you, Fred, I made it myself" you smiled shyly.

You got some champagne and joined the conversation.

Suddenly, you felt a pat on your shoulder, and, when you turned around, you saw Freddie holding out a hand to you, asking you to dance with him. You gladly accepted and got up. 

+"I really meant it, darling. You do look marvellous tonight" he whispered in your ear.

"Thank you, Freddie, you can have it if you'd like" you sent him a warm smile.

You took off his golden crown and set it aside. Gently taking off the flower crown from your head, you placed it on top of Fred's. He beamed at you and put his own crown on top of your head.

+"Now you rule here, darling."

taglist

[marmosa]

oi, is it hot in here?

Fred x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: none

A/N: my best friend came over yesterday and showed me a snippet of one of her george fics and then immediately hyped me up to write this one. girls and gays i present the aquamenti spell, enjoy ;) (this is so out of pocket, could you tell i was going thru it). also if anyone wants more george content please let me know, i’m a fred girl through and through, but i have no shame in showing some love to george <3

***

“Fred, just because we’re allowed to legally use magic now, doesn’t mean we’re legally obliged to,” [y/n] mumbled, flat out glaring at him as he pouted at her from across the library table, trying once again to convince her to duel with him.

“Just because we’re not required to, doesn’t mean it wouldn’t be tons of fun. Come on [y/n], you know just as well as I do that you’re dying to try out some new spells,” Fred pleaded, reaching across the table and pushing the book she was using to shield her face from his relentless puppy dog eyes down.

“Even so Weasley, you’re going to get yourself in a spot of trouble you’re not going to know how to get out of. Just because I play coy doesn’t mean I wouldn’t absolutely smoke your arse if we did duel,” she hummed surely, straightening her posture to emphasize her sudden breath of confidence.

“Win? I doubt that,” Fred shrugged, leaning back in his chair, a mischievous idea bubbling to the surface of his mind, “No, you’re not bold enough to win.”

“I- me? Not bold enough?” [y/n] sputtered, incredibly offended at his insinuation but still trying her best to stand her ground, “I know what you’re trying to do y’know and I know you’re also full of shit. You wouldn’t last a second against me.”  

Fred glanced over at her, a smartass look on his face, “I think I could last at least two seconds, maybe five, maybe six, maybe a million, but you’re too much of a stick in the mud to find out.”

“I’m not a stick in the mud, I’m just smart enough to not let myself get dragged into your chaos- as fun as it is sometimes,” [y/n] mumbled the last bit, trying not to inflate his ego anymore than he needed, despite feeling no shame in admitting that his antics were usually paired with an inescapable rush of adrenaline.

“Yeah, whatever you say sweetheart,” Fred rolled his eyes, missing the quick crack in [y/n]’s composure at the pet name that practically rolled off his tongue with ease, “just don’t come crying to me when you get bored one afternoon and need someone to duel.”

[y/n] furrowed her brows and felt her competitive need finally snap, “Listen here you dim-wit, if you want a duel so bad you’ll get a duel, but don't you come crying to me when I hand you your arse on a silver-lined platter.”

Fred sat up excitedly, tapping his fingers against the table, “See, there’s that competitive [y/n] I was hoping for. I appreciate the threat, but you might want to save that fire for the duel, you’re gonna need it.”

“You’re a twat, you know that?” [y/n] grumbled, crossing her arms and sinking back into her chair.

“Only for you,” Fred winked, a shit-eating grin plaster on his face, “see you at the dueling grounds.”

“Yeah, yeah, get out of here,” [y/n] waved him off, biting back a smile.

***

“Aha! So you showed up in the end,” Fred cheered, dashing over and scooping [y/n] up in his arms, swinging her from side to side as she hung on for dear life.

As soon as he set her down she glared up at him like he’d just forced her to ride the worlds most dangerous roller coaster, “just because I was reluctant, doesn’t mean I’m a downer. I’m always true to my word Freddie.”

“Ahh,” He hummed low, crossing his arms and shrugging, tapping his chin inquisitively, “I suppose so. But what about that one time when you promised me that we’d go up to the tower and then you bailed-,”

“I had a potions exam to study for and my brain felt like it was melting, don’t you dare turn one on me. Last time I checked you were the one who bailed on me when we planned to go rob Filch of his-,” [y/n] started but was cut off when Fred pressed one of his hands against her mouth, shushing her with the other.

“You don’t want anyone to hear do you? That could get us in an enormous amount of trOUBLE- EW!” Fred hacked and jumped backwards, wiping his hand furiously against his jeans, “you’re a sick, sick woman.”

[y/n] grinned triumphantly, wiggling her eyebrows at his disgusted expression, “don’t lie, you loved it. Now come on, we came to duel, didn’t we?”

“You’re really testing my patience, [y/l/n],” Fred chuckled lowly, “but you’re right, get into position so I can completely ruin you.”

“I’d like to see you try,” [y/n] hummed, winking at Fred as she shuffled into her spot, drawing her wand and bobbing it in her hand.

The duel began and the two made no waste of time jumping at each other, throwing charm after hex at one another, testing out every single spell in their arsenal (well the one’s that wouldn’t painfully injure or kill either of them anyway). It was electric, the wild passion for their craft buzzing excitedly behind their eyes, present in the way they danced around each other, avoiding spells and quickly returning them.

[y/n] felt a laugh bubble out of her chest when Fred disarmed her, dashing off to retrieve her tool, ducking as he fired another spell right over the top of her head. Fred couldn’t help but follow suit in laughter as she turned around and flung a disarming spell of her own, managing to hit him and send his wand flying farther away than he probably would’ve liked.

“Come on now, [y/n], you wouldn’t harm a totally helpless boy,” Fred pleaded teasingly, inching to the side while trying to maintain eye-contact with her, mostly for his own safety than showmanship.

“I told you when we started this Weasley, I wasn’t going to go easy on you,” [y/n] called out, jerking out her arm, “Aquamenti!”

Water sprung forth from her wand, shooting directly at Fred and knocking him clean to the floor, positively soaking him from head to toe. He sat up immediately, his mouth hanging open in shock, still processing what entirely had just happened.

“I won,” [y/n] muttered, cheer surging through her in unexpected waves, “I won!”

“Shut up!” Fred groaned from his spot on the floor, pushing himself up off the floor, the cold slowly but surely seeping into his bones, “I don’t wanna hear it.”

[y/n] bit back a smug grin, crossing her arms across her chest and tipping her head back as if she had just won a crown far too heavy for her head, “Sorry, what was that about me losing?”

Fred glared back at her, his narrowed eyes nearly on the brink of being completely shut, “Shut. Up,” he repeated, enunciating his pauses.

“Aww, is someone sad with the outcome,” [y/n] cooed, spinning around to face him as soon as she had retrieved his wand, her triumphant spirit being shoved aside as a more uncomfortable emotion took hold.

“Shut up and hand me my wand ya git,” Fred mumbled, snatching his wand back from her, “we get it, you won.”

[y/n] couldn’t help the heat that was crawling up her neck, suddenly hyperaware of the situation she was currently in. Why’d she chose that spell? Why’d she chose that spell in this random room, away from others, when he was wearing a crisp white dress shirt that was now clinging to him like a second skin- god she could see so much.

Fred glanced over at her with creased brows, confused at the sudden spot of silence, wondering what had gotten little miss triumphant to go so quiet. When he saw her shuffling through her book bag, an amused little smile wormed its way onto his face- oh he was going to have fun with this.

“Why so quiet all of a sudden, sweetheart?” Fred drawled, biting back a grin at the way she tensed her shoulders.

“No particular reason, just felt bad about rubbing in my victory s’all,” [y/n] replied, still shuffling through her bag for a, uh, pack of gum she could have sworn she had had earlier.

“You? Feel bad? About a dueling victory against me? Sounds like a lot of rubbish to me,” He shook his head, grabbing her shoulder and tugging her to her feet, “There’s something else.”

[y/n]’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets, straining to avoid glancing down at his toned chest, “There is absolutely nothing else. Scout’s honor.”

Fred sported a smug grin as he leaned down to be eye level with her, his eyes raking over her face, noting her balled up fists shaking at her sides and her abnormally wide eyes, “Are you sure, you look awfully tense.”  

“I’m not tense,” she waved him off, feeling near the verge of combustion trying to control herself. It didn’t particularly help that he was staring at her like that while her mind raced through the hundreds of ways this interaction could go, her heart hammering in her chest at the suggestiveness of her thoughts.

“Come on, you can tell me, I won’t say anything out of line,” he bargained, trying his best to coax her out of whatever dumb act she was playing at.

“Again, I am completely fine,” she reassured him, rocking on the balls of her feet, trying to subtly put some space between them.

“I’m not so sure that’s true,” Fred lilted, titling his head to the side slightly, “what, is something about me bothering you?”

[y/n] felt her stomach drop, so he did know, of course he knew, she wasn’t particularly inconspicuous about her dilemma, but she refused to let up now, “There is nothing about you that’s bothering me, Freddie.”

“Oh, so what I’m hearing is that you like what you see?” he teased, darting his tongue out to wet his lips.

“I-wait, now hold a minute-,” she began only to lose her voice as he backed her into one of the many pillars in that room, her palms pressing flat against the cool stone.

“See, I still don’t quite believe you,” he whispered, pressing his forearm over her head, placing the other on his hip as the water he’d been drenched in had practically sealed his pockets shut.

“And why not?” [y/n] struggled to maintain her composure, her resolve diminishing by the second.

“Because someone who’d didn’t like the view wouldn’t be staring at it so plainly,” He concluded, shamelessly eyeing her up and down.

[y/n] didn’t know if she wanted to curl up into a ball and die or yank him down by his collar and let him absolutely ravish her then and there, her mind was too clouded to pick one. Luckily, Fred seemed to be significantly more level-headed than she currently, which meant he made no waste of time taking the reigns of the situation.

“So, what if I did agree with you what then,” [y/n] muttered, looking down at her shoes, trying her best to avoid his piercing gaze.

“I’d say that you’re in luck because,” he placed his hand under her chin and tipped it back upwards, forcing her to look at him, “I’m enjoying my view just as much.”

“Well then, what’re you gonna do about it?” she quipped, shamelessly darting her eyes between his eyes and lips.

“I’d say kiss you, but only if you want it,” he replied, moving his hand up to cup her cheek.

“I do. I do want it, please Fred,” she pleaded, not even caring if she sounded desperate anymore, throwing her pride to the wind.

“You don’t have to tell me twice.”

Fred leaned down and captured her lips in a heated kiss, his hand finding its way to the small of her back, pressing her off the pillar and into him. It quickly became something desperate, longing, all their pent up tension finally spilling out of their overfilled cup. [y/n] felt up his chest, smiling to herself as she concluded that it did feel as nice as it looked.

He made quick work of hoisting her up, linking his arms under her thighs and pressing her back against the wall, relishing in finally being able to touch her the way he so desperately wanted to for all those years. She did the same, tangling her fingers into the wet hairs at the nape of his neck, basking in the warmth coming from him despite his soaking wet clothing.

“Do you want to stop?” Fred asked softly, pressing a few soft kisses to her jaw and neck, “we don’t have to go any further.”

“As lovely as continuing sounds,” she breathed, smoothing his hair out of his face, “I don’t think we’re geared for that right now. And you need to get changed of those clothes before you catch a cold.”

“Good lord you sound like my mother,” Fred groaned, knocking his forehead on her shoulder.

“Did you really just bring up your mother right now,” [y/n] asked incredulously, wiggling her way out of his grip and back onto her own two feet, “that’s weird man.”

“I wouldn’t have if you didn’t bring up my need of a change of clothes!” Fred exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air to emphasize his point, “Besides, who’s fault is that?”

“Someone stupid probably,” [y/n] shrugged, picking up her robes and tossing them square at him, “wear those so you don’t get colder, if someone asks, you took a dip in the lake.”

“That’s even more unbelievable than just telling someone straight up what we were doing,” Fred replied, flat out, pulling on the robes that we’re obviously too short for him.

“Well too bad, loser of the duel has to follow the winner’s rules,” [y/n] shrugged, offering him a smug smile.

“Can we go back to a couple minutes ago when I’d managed to shut you up?” Fred quipped, crossing his arms as he pouted at her.

“Nope, no can do, you kissed me Weasley which means I have nothing more to be embarrassed about,” [y/n] sang, taking his hands and swinging them along with hers.

“Well I take it back!”

“Please no,” she frowned, sinking her shoulders.

Fred sighed and pulled her into a hug, his words muffled against her hair as he mumbled softly, “I could never say no to that face.”