#i drew this half a year ago now so I touched it up and decided to post it

[tantaliart]

harukawa

[nucleo-bang-tan]

Jungkook smut...cuz he is jealous....college au.....plz?

MINE | JJK Oneshot

Pairing/s: Senior!Jungkook X Sophomore!Reader

Genre: College AU, established relationship, smut, fluff

Warning/s: creampie, unprotected sex (don't even think about it), degradation, proud jk, jealousy (obviously), possessiveness, mentions of JK having sex with someone else, Hobi almost catching them half naked, please comment if there's something I left out.

Word Count: 1.8K

A/N: I know it took me more than a year to respond to this I'm sorry ;-; also not proof read.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The two of you had met when Jungkook was a junior at Seoul National University. He was all over the place when you two first met. He had a reputation for sleeping around. He liked to enjoy his life, as he put it.

His roommate and fellow junior, Jung Hoseok who was coincidentally also your best friend, tried all he could to keep you away from Jungkook.

Now, Jungkook wasn't deterred in the slightest when you slapped him for touching your ass once while trying to talk to you.

Nor was he deterred when you gave him a long list of reasons why you and him couldn't fuck.

But he was taken aback when he realised he couldn't get an erection without thinking about you. Not even when he had the new blonde transfer student naked in front of him.

He was in deep trouble and was depressed. And Hoseok inviting you over to the dorm wasn't helping. Your laughs were stuck in his head.

It wasn't until one day, you decided to talk to him while at a party.

"Hey, is this seat taken?" You referred to the empty seat on the couch beside him.

He was annoyed. How could you talk so nonchalantly, as if you weren't the reason behind his huge popularity decline?

"Aren't you a freshman? I thought you were allowed at parties?" He replied

You took the seat beside him without his permission, "Hobi knows a lot of people, he got me in."

"Right, Hobi." He shuffled uncomfortably. You weren't wearing anything too flashy or showy. It was just your scent, your voice, that overwhelmed him.

The way you looked confident yet scared of people at the party did things to him. He didn't want to admit it, but he had actually developed feelings for you.

"Um, if you don't mind, I wanted to talk to you about something."

"Sure, why not." He sighed.

You took out an almost crumpled piece of paper from your bag and held the inked part to him.

His face could be compared to the paper in question the way it became devoid of colour.

"Where did you find this!?" He exclaimed snatching it out of your hand.

"Hobi saw it lying on the dorm floor a few days ago and deduced that you drew it." You smiled ever so softly.

Jungkook was petrified and embarrassed. Were you laughing internally for his child-like crush over you?

"If you are gonna draw me, you need to show it to me too." You laughed, "It's a really great drawing, I love art too."

Jungkook could feel his shoulders relax as you crinkled your eyes in laughter. Maybe dating and committing wouldn't be as bad as he thought.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Back to the present, it had been more than a year since you two started dating. And Jungkook realised loving you was the best decision he ever made. Saying he loved you, would be an understatement and he tried to tell you that everytime he could.

You had changed him. His grades had gotten better, his friends liked him better and well best of all, he had you.

Ofcourse, Jungkook was never a jealous guy, atleast that's what he told himself.

But looking at you laughing with someone that isn't him, didn't really sit right in his head.

Jung Hoseok, your childhood best friend, the person who had grown up with you. Where there was Hoseok, there was you.

Jungkook knew you didn't see him that way. But being one of the only people that knew about the fact that Hoseok had a thing for you a few years ago, made him even more frustrated.

You never did anything that hurt Jungkook, you never even knew that Hoseok liked you. If you did you would probably refrain from the hugs and even conversations with him.

But you didn't know, that's why, when the three of you were assigned a biology project together, you were estatic.

The three of you sat on the floor of Jungkook and Hoseok's shared dorm discussing about the merits of human reproduction.

You cheerfully drew a diagram of a penis while humming to your favourite song.

"You do know, that is not how you draw the carvernosa muscles?" Hoseok asked.

"Hobi, I did research on this, I think I know what I'm doing."

"I mean, I could show you a real life model." He smirked.

"Where would you find a- Hobi! Are you serious?" You exclaimed and smacked his arm.

Jungkook wasn't having it, he rolled his eyes and focused on his work. But he tried his best to not stab your dear friend with the pencil he held in his hand.

Hoseok excused himself to go to the lounge for a quick smoke.

"I bet you wanted him to show you his penis real time." Jungkook scoffed.

"What are you talking about?" You asked.

"You should've put him in his place, Y/N."

"Jungkook, it was just a joke, you know he didn't mean it."

He let out a chuckle, "Look at you being a whore." He looked at you with dark eyes which you failed to notice.

"Hobi is harmless, he doesn't like me in that way!"

"Bet you want another dick to ride, mine isn't enough for you?" He held your chin and brought you closer to his face.

"Hobi isn't-"

"Fuck him." He cut your words off followed by closing the distance between your lips.

You hadn't seen him like this before. So full of rage and passion to prove his worth, not that he needed to do that.

But something in the way he growled when he pulled you closer onto his lap had you leaking onto his jeans.

"We can't fuck right now, baby." You panted out.

"Don't you want your precious Hobi to know who you belong to?" Kissing you again, he traced his hands up your thighs, hiking your skirt up with it.

He grabbed a handful of your ass that had you moaning straight into his mouth and intertwining your hands into his obsidian locks.

"Want you... So bad-" You let out while grinding on his semi-erect clothed dick.

"Yeah want to be fucked dumb by your boyfriend?"

You nodded desperately.

He signalled you to get onto the bed. In your dick-hazed state, you didn't realise it wasn't Jungkook's bed.

This had him smirking more. He was going to fuck you on your dearest friend's bed. His ego probably shattered the roof with how high it got.

"Skirt off" He commanded and you proceeded to pull yourself out of anything that kept you from having him inside you.

"Please, I need you inside me." You moaned out as he slipped a finger inside your sopping cunt.

You sighed and closed your eyes, he knew how desperate you could get for his cock.

The sound of his belt unbuckling was followed by him dropping his pants just enough to fuck you.

His length sprang out glistening with pre-cum. It had your mouth watering but you needed him somewhere else.

"I hate you so much." You pouted as he lined himself up against your pussy.

"Yeah? Then how are you so fucking wet for me?"

His bulbous mushroom tip teased your slit before slowly pushing itself into your welcoming and wet orfice.

He had to catch himself from falling onto you due to the pleasure.

"Shit- should've loosened you up first." He said trying to help you take him in by rubbing your nub.

"Jungkook-" You cried out, tears already forming as the stretch was slightly unbearable.

"It's okay baby, you'll take me like the good girl you are, yeah?"

You nod. He pushed himself further into you with one sharp thrust. It had you screaming with both pleasure and pain.

"Shit, shit, shit, baby, are you okay? Should I stop?" He cupped your cheek pressing his lips wherever he could onto your face and neck.

"No, please, keep going." Hearing this, he pulled out till just his tip was inside you and thrusted back testing the waters.

Looking straight into your eyes, he picked up his pace.

"Look at you, Y/N, looking like a sin." He chuckled darkly. "I'll make sure you wouldn't want any other dick, except mine."

"Please, I only want you..."

"Imagine your best friend's face when he realises I am fucking the living shit out of you on his own bed." He smirks egoistically, "He wouldn't be able to sleep for days."

The thrill of it had you clenching his dick making him falter his pace for a quick second before picking it up again.

The mix of both of your arousals pooled around his cock as it disappeared into you.

He hooked his arms around your thighs and pulled them up. This new angle had both of you moaning. The students from the neighbouring dorms probably heard you.

Sex-life with your boyfriend was really good, he fucked you almost everyday and left you satisfied.

But his pace today was animalistic. His eyes were blown out and bangs stuck to his forehead due to the sweat.

"Gonna fuck you so good, gonna make sure Hoseok knows you walk around with my cum inside you." He groaned.

The bed, Hoseok's bed, was knocking it's headboard onto the wall making relatively noticable sound.

"Say it." He asserted, "Say that you're mine and mine only."

"Fuck, I'm yours Jungkook!"

"Yeah baby, you're mine. Gonna- fuck- marry you one day."

His pace had your back arching and his words helped you reach your climax.

"Shit, come on, baby." He lifted your legs onto his shoulders, thrusts indicating that he's about to come as well.

You let out a load moan as you came coating his dick with arousal. Not even a few seconds later, came as well.

He slowly thrusted his cum into you as his cock softened.

Pulling out, he realised he came much more than he imagined and it leaked out of your pussy onto the sheets.

He smiled proudly. You looked at him in disbelief. Was this the same man a few seconds ago?

A knocked startled you both.

"Can I come in?" A very doubtful Hoseok asked from the other side of the door.

"Yeah, come in." Jungkook answered.

"Jungkook!" You covered your bottom half by pulling your shirt down.

Your best friend was disgusted to say the least. You realised that the walls were pretty thin and he could've heard you.

"Ugh! Did you guys have to do it on my bed?" Are you serious right now?"

"Hobi, I'm sorry, we're kind of naked, would you mind just shoo-ing away for a bit?" You said in a desperate tone.

"You know what? Keep the bed, I'll sleep on Jungkook's one from now on." Hobi turned to leave.

"But we've had sex on my bed too." Jungkook added.

"Just keep the whole room." Hoseok slammed the door shut.

Jungkook simply laughed.

[daresplaining]

An Interview with Christine Hanefalk

Christine Hanefalk created her blog, The Other Murdock Papers, in 2007 as a place to discuss and share her interest in Matt Murdock and his world. Over the years, she has become one of the most compelling and influential voices within the Daredevil fan community, even making a cameo appearance in the comic itself in Daredevil volume 3 #31. In 2022 she published Being Matt Murdock, a passion project centered around an area of particular fascination: Matt's legendary hypersenses. The book weaves real-world science into the vast Daredevil canon to explore the notion that Daredevil's powers, though superhuman, are not – and do not need to be – as divorced from reality as one might think.

Christine was kind enough to answer my questions about the book, and about her nearly twenty-year-long fascination with the Man Without Fear. Read the interview below...

Daresplaining: I know many people will be familiar with your blog and your longtime interest in Matt Murdock's sensory world, but could you say a little about how Being Matt Murdock first came about, and how you approached writing and researching it?

Christine Hanefalk: I started The Other Murdock Papers in late 2007 and gradually allowed myself to start writing more about the scientific and sensory aspects of Daredevil as time went on. I was really worried it might turn people off, but the opposite was true and people really seemed to dig my deep dives. And so as far back as around 2012 I decided that, one of these days, I was going to try to write a whole book on the subject. 

Despite the fact that it took me ten years to complete it, with most of the work being concentrated to the final 12-18 months before publication, I had actually done some writing early-on. I think I had about half of chapters one (on the literary history) and seven (on the sense of smell) written several years ago, along with various snippets and notes that I had filed away and was able to work into some of the other chapters. I had also consistently been keeping an eye out for anything new and interesting in the peer reviewed academic literature, and managed to amass – and read through – quite a collection of books on sensory neuroscience over the years.

When that “now or never” moment finally arrived, it lined up well with a period of time in my life where I was able to cut back on regular work and devote most of my time and energy to the book. I went over all of the stuff I’d already looked at before but with more focus, and got myself reacquainted with subjects I hadn’t really touched since college, such as thermodynamics. I also reread nearly all of the comics, taking very detailed notes on how and when Daredevil used his senses to get a better idea of the overall pattern. It’s not an understatement to say that I’ve spent upwards of 2,000 hours on this project over the years.

D: I understand that you were introduced to Daredevil through the 2003 movie. What drew you so strongly to Matt as a character? How much of a role has your fascination with his powers played in your continuing interest over the years?

CH: I grew up reading comics and enjoying sci-fi and superhero movies as a kid. I was born in 1977, so both the original Star Wars trilogy and the Superman franchise loomed large in my life when I got old enough to watch them. And while I eventually stopped reading superhero comics, I always had a special place in my heart for the genre and had a certain fascination with the general idea of superheroes. That eventually steered me in the direction of the Daredevil movie when it was released in video stores (I don’t think it even went up in theaters in my native Sweden). 

The specifics of Matt Murdock’s power set was definitely one thing that gave this character an unusual kind of appeal to me. I had always been interested in the science of the senses – and what happens when one is missing – and had even written a paper on sensory compensation for my neuroscience class while I was an exchange student at the University of Rochester around the turn of the millennium. 

There were additional things that made Daredevil interesting of course, such as his career as a lawyer, his overall personality, and the general mood of the world he inhabited, but the combination of his power set and my already having a soft spot for superheroes definitely piqued my interest right away. Within a few months of learning that Daredevil even existed, I had read pretty much everything he had ever appeared in.

D: Do you have a favorite sense, both in terms of your own research and as a Daredevil fan?

CH: I think I probably enjoyed researching hearing the most since there’s so much to cover. It’s also fascinating to me how hearing can be called on to perform spatial functions despite having this deceptively simple, linear, time-dependent form in terms of how it is received by the ear. The fact that it’s possible, even for quite ordinary humans, to sort of “see-hear” silent objects is fascinating to me.

However, if we look at Daredevil, I’d say that hearing has tended to be overused compared to both smell and touch. While hearing is often called on to perform near transcendental duties, smell tends to be forgotten by a lot of writers, probably in large part due to the fact that we humans seem to be less conscious of smells than we are of other sensory input. For the entire history of the comic, Daredevil has often gone several issues without any reference to smell, and the things he’s been smelling have often tended to not be very interesting. It’s always a treat to see smell being used in creative ways.

Still, the sense I would be even more interested in seeing more of in Daredevil is probably touch, which I also think is used less than it could be. Sure, there’s plenty of reading by touch (print or braille), but I still think we might be underestimating the importance of touch in Matt’s life, due in part to the high expectations of the radar sense (whatever we make of it). I view the “radar” as absolutely vital to everything Matt does as Daredevil, but I also see a much greater potential role for touch to work synergistically with such an ability.

D: Do you have a favorite new fact that you learned over the course of researching this book?

CH: Yes. I do think my coming across Jacob Twersky’s writing helped solidify the idea I had about how the concept of the radar sense may have originated. Blinded in childhood, Twersky would go on to become a champion collegiate wrestler, and later a historian and author. I read both his 1954 novel The Face of the Deep and his 1959 autobiography The Sound of the Walls while working on my own book. The way Twersky describes his sense of the obstacles around him in The Sound of the Walls struck me as shockingly similar to early descriptions of Daredevil’s radar sense, including the use of the term “radar” itself. 

While I can’t know for sure whether anyone at Marvel was familiar with Twersky’s writing, it’s worth noting that he was a New Yorker and a contemporary of Stan Lee and many of the others in the Marvel bullpen back in the day. Whatever the case may be, it’s clear that the Marvel creators were not the first to use the word “radar” to describe the “obstacle sense of the blind,” as it was often known at the time. Over the years, and especially after having studied the early issues in great detail, I’ve definitely come to favor the idea that the “radar sense” wasn’t meant to be understood as a literal (electromagnetic) radar, though I should add that the understanding of the radar seems to have been all over the place for most of Daredevil history. Reading Twersky definitely added considerable weight to my interpretation of the early radar sense.

I also had some favorite epiphanies connected to the radar sense, one in particular which I think explains why Daredevil’s very particular way of being blind is often so difficult to make sense of for writers and fans alike. I recently wrote a rather lengthy post covering much of that stuff.

D: While taking a renewed deep dive into the source material, did you find yourself changing your opinion on anything?

CH: I should preface this by saying that there are definitely things I’ve changed my mind about over the years, even before I started most of the work on the book. I mentioned above that my understanding of the radar sense has shifted gradually, away from the more literal take the name suggests. Looking at the comics very carefully gives you even more of a sense that pinning down anything concrete here is going to be really difficult.

Revisting the comics has also given me a new appreciation for certain runs, such as the pre-Miller Bronze Age issues. This process has also led me to reassess my earlier assumptions that Daredevil’s senses have gone through some kind of steady evolution from Silver Age goofy to modern and grounded. This really isn’t the case, especially when you exclude some of the early outliers. You can find plenty of examples of both nonsensical and absolutely brilliant “senses writing” throughout the history of the comic, but I wouldn’t say that the treatment of the senses, or Matt’s blindness, have necessarily become more grounded on average.

D: You go into great detail about how much of Matt's sensory world has not been explored yet on the page. Is there any particular, specific experience that you would love to see depicted in future runs or adaptations? 

CH: Contrary to what people might expect of me given my priors, I don’t necessarily think that there needs to be more stories about his senses, blindness and so on. However, I think these aspects of the character should be viewed as absolutely essential to how Daredevil is written, no matter what the particular storyline happens to be. I make a point in the book about how Daredevil is an amazingly interesting thought experiment, and I really believe that. So I’d really just wish for writers to be more comfortable running their scenes and stories through whatever their own version of this thought experiment happens to be and making sure that what’s on the page makes sense in light of that.

D: While researching other superpowered blind characters from the comics world and beyond, did you discover any new favorites? Can we expect a spin-off blog about Doctor Mid-Nite?

CH: Ha ha, no. It’s enough of a challenge keeping up with The Other Murdock Papers these days. As regular readers have undoubtedly noticed, I’ve been considerably less active there in recent years, having to do with work on the book as well as other real life stuff that’s competing for my time and attention. I do expect it to live on for many more years though, and I do update every once in a while. I’m definitely looking forward to writing about Daredevil: Born Again when that comes out, and we also have Echo coming out in early 2024.

D: What is your biggest Daredevil sensory pet peeve?

CH: To be honest, what bothers me more than all of the silly things put together is the suggestion that Daredevil can “see better than all of us,” is “not really blind,” and so on. As much as this might sound like the whole point of the character, it also takes much of the complexity out of what Daredevil does and how he does it. As blanket statements go, it just doesn’t hold up to scrutiny, unless we radically redefine what sight is, and what the other senses – even when heightened – actually do. 

D: I love the scene in volume 3 #26 when Matt evades Ikari by changing his heart rate, even though logic would suggest that Ikari could still track him using his other senses, or even just other sounds. Do you have any favorite DD moments where you let sensory weirdnesses slide just because the scene is so compelling? 

CH: While it’s a whole issue rather than a single scene, I really enjoyed what Mark Waid and Chris Samnee were attempting to do with the story that sees Matt attempt to escape Latveria while losing all of his senses. The scene I’m choosing to let slide here is when Matt seems to develop some kind of heat vision (it’s frankly unclear what it’s supposed to be) as his body tries to compensate. Whenever you see hints of thermal imaging in Daredevil, that’s an indication that he’s doing something that’s much further removed from how his senses should work than most people realize. It’s not something that follows naturally from heightened senses and is more like an entirely different kind of superpower. 

I definitely tend to give a writer much more slack when 1) I'm enjoying the writing overall, and 2) said writer compensates to some degree by doing a good job of exploring, or at the very least remembering, that Matt is in fact blind.

D: What are your hopes for this book in regards to the impact it might have on how Daredevil is written in the future? What are the key takeaways that you hope fans and/or potential future Daredevil creators pull from it? 

CH: If people reading this interview haven’t read Being Matt Murdock they may get the impression that it’s all a long list of “don’ts” or “can’ts,” but that’s a far cry from what I’ve attempted to do. I remember reading another superhero science book a few years ago that seemed to have as its central premise that “superpowers are stupid,” which didn’t feel particularly gratifying. I don’t see it that way at all. Sure, there are certainly characters whose powers read more like magic than anything else, but I don’t necessarily mind that. We don’t have to hold every character to any kind of scientific standard, and there definitely comes a point when taking this too far just takes the fun out of it. 

When it comes to a character like Daredevil, however, I feel very strongly that bringing science into the picture has the potential to aid in the creative process rather than hinder it. Daredevil is relatively unusual in that he can exist comfortably in a kind of “reality next door.” His powers are not possible in our own universe, but they are not so far removed from our normal understanding of things that we can’t attempt to make sense of them and imagine what life would be like from his perspective. Because while no one has super hearing, most of us do have regular human hearing which detects the measurable and explainable phenomenon of sound. 

There are naturally things about Daredevil that not even loosening the reins of biology will address – for instance, even a science-minded writer is likely going to have to break some of the laws of the physics of sound – but understanding how these phenomena unfold in the real world helps create a good structure for how Daredevil might operate. And I feel like I’ve come pretty close to presenting a coherent “view” of the world from Daredevil’s perspective in this book.

It would definitely be a dream come true to have this book inspire future Daredevil writers, but I obviously don’t have much control over that kind of stuff. I’ve been able to give out plenty of copies to past writers and artists though, ha ha. I would want incoming writers to know that science is their friend. And that understanding some of the science makes Daredevil even more fascinating.

D: If you were given the opportunity to actually experience the world the way Matt does for a day, would you take it?

CH: Absolutely! Mind you, I probably wouldn’t want to do it for longer than a day or two and I very much appreciate my standard issue eyesight, but I think it would be fascinating to explore his world. Though in this thought experiment, I would assume that I could experience things the way he does after years of getting used to it so it’s not too much of a shock to the system. Unlike what happened in the delightfully ridiculous story where Daredevil switched bodies with Doctor Doom, and Doom appeared to adjust on the spot and couldn’t even figure out that he was now blind, I would expect it to take months or even years to learn to navigate the world the way Matt does (superhero acrobatics not included). And it’s not just about being able to integrate different amounts and kinds of sensory information. It’s also a matter of acquiring the strategies that allow for combining this sensory information with real-world knowledge in order to handle the many ambiguities which remain in a world organized around people with a more standard set of human senses.

D: Do you have any book/article/etc. recommendations for someone wanting to expand their reading on the topics explored in the book?

CH: Among the books I’ve read that I would recommend for general audiences is David Eagleman’s The Brain: The Story of You as a good introduction to the brain. If people want to progress from there I also recommend Brainscapes by Rebecca Schwarzlose. I don’t make any explicit references to Brainscapes in my book, but it’s a very solid read for anyone who wants to learn more about the role of “brain maps” in guiding our experiences. For the senses themselves, there’s The Universal Sense by Seth S. Horowitz (about hearing), and What the Nose Knows by Avery Gilbert.

Another book I read years ago that is sort of “on-topic” is A Sense of the World: How a Blind Man Became History’s Greatest Traveler by Jason Roberts. It’s not one I reference in my own book, but I guess it’s “Daredevil adjacent.” It tells the absolutely fascinating true story of James Holman (1786-1857).

D: Beyond Being Matt Murdock and your blog, is there anything else you would like to promote/mention here?

CH: Not for the time being. Maybe there’ll be a second edition of Being Matt Murdock one day, but I don’t have any such plans for the foreseeable future. What I would like to do is take the opportunity to encourage people to tackle their own passion projects. For me, finalizing this project came down to realizing that if I were to be told I only had a year to live, I would want to prioritize finishing this book. That’s how much it meant to me. And when you feel that way about something, try to do whatever you can – as much as your current circumstances will allow – to give yourself that gift. Tackling something like this can be very daunting, and I definitely had to get over my fears of making mistakes and putting myself out there in order to do this. But I’m really glad that I finally did.

For more fun facts and information on Being Matt Murdock, and to purchase your own copy, visit www.scienceofdaredevil.com

For more of Christine Hanefalk's writing, visit www.theothermurdockpapers.com

[lemonluvgirl]

The Mockingjay Cries at Midnight

So, here I am again with another weird Everlark Christmas-themed story. This time I decided to go way-waaay out of the box and try a Christmas/mystery/thriller. Yeah. I know. Should be fun lol. Very festive. Hope you like the first 2 chapters.

Chapter One: The Journalist and Slippery Slope 

The winding roads were icy and seemingly endless. Not another car was in sight on the lonely stretch of highway he was traveling.  His legs had lost feeling from continuous driving, and his fingers were starting to feel a bit numb too, but not from lack of movement. It was the seeping cold that seemed to pervade everything, despite the heater being turned up to full blast in his old Jeep Cherokee. Bing Crosby’s velvety voice was “Pa-rum, Pum, Pum, Pum,”ing along on the radio, and Peeta Mellark was humming along off-key in a desperate effort to stay awake. 

He had been driving for too long, he knew that, but he was very near reaching his destination. He was used to going to uncomfortable lengths to get the story he was after. He had done this before many times. Wisconsin for instance, he drove 9 hours in the rain to make it to Steven’s Point, and it had been hell on his back but he got there, and he got his story. They had to run second and third prints to keep up with the demand. And in Villa Ridge Missouri, he had to stake out an abandoned stretch of road for two days, but he got the story on that one too. 

This one would be just like all the rest. A little discomfort, a little lost sleep, but ultimately worth it in the long run once he printed a full expose about the mysterious murders that rocked a little no-name town fifty years ago. 

“I am a poor boy too…” His voice warbled tiredly as his eyes searched for the mile marker that would tell him where to turn, but there was a steady sleet building outside and it was getting harder and harder to see in the worsening weather. 

He was looking for number 113 and going by the map he was forced to use after he lost GPS service, it was bound to be around here somewhere. 

“I have no gift to bring, Pa-rum, Pum, Pum, Pum” He had already passed exit 18 aways back. That meant 113 was coming up any minute now. 

“That’s fit to give a—shit!” He caught sight of the reflective marker with the numbers 113 and tried to turn, half a second too late and much too sharp, but the tires couldn’t find purchase on the slick road on such short notice. 

The car started to hydroplane. 

“Fuck, FUCK!” Thinking quickly, he did what all the experts said was best, which was to turn into the spin. 

But he was going too fast. The row of snow covered trees that lined the highway like silent guardians blurred and drew closer in his vision.  

Suddenly he couldn’t remember what was so important that he drove out to the middle of nowhere a few days before Chrsitmas to find. Surely it wasn’t this. A quick and violent end on an icy road with no one who even knew where he was this time of night. 

Only his editor knew where he was headed and she probably wouldn’t report him missing for days. 

All of these thoughts flew into his mind and flew out just as quickly, as fast as the old jeep spun out of control and headed for the treeline. 

The last thing he saw was what looked like a woman. 

A woman in a faded ruffle dress, with long dark hair, standing on the side of the road. Almost close enough to touch. Time seemed to slow-and stop altogether as she held his gaze. She had a sad, forlorn look in her large brown eyes, that were almost pleading with him.  It looked like she was trying to say something, but he couldn’t make it out. It seemed important if the desperate look she was giving him was anything to go by, and he thought that look would be impressed upon him forever should he live past this terrible night. 

Then the car made another revolution, and she was taken out of his sight. 

 Quicker than a blink everything was back to the breakneck speed of reality as the car careened completely out of control. Then there was the sound of breaking glass, the impact of wood on metal, and the sharp flash of pain that radiated through every inch of him. 

And then all was darkness. 

Chapter 2: The Angel with the Permanant Frown 

The beep-beep-beep-beeeep of her minitor almost caused her to knock over her peppermint tea. Almost, but Katniss Everdeen caught the tipping cup at the last second and righted it. She unclipped the mini-monitor on her belt loop, nicknamed ‘minitor’ for short by all the local EMT’s and held it up as the device beeped its special four note tone again. It was the tone reserved for immediately life-threatening situations and it meant she didn’t have a minute to lose. 

She grabbed her truck keys off the top of her desk, tossed on her coat, didn’t bother with her hat or gloves, and threw open the door to the office of the local quick-mart. 

“Sae! I got a call!” She hollered as she rushed past the woman ringing up customers at the counter. 

“This time of night?” The grey haired older woman asked in surprise as Katniss flew by. 

“Rules are whoever gets the call has to head to the garage! Call Darius to cover my shift if you need extra security! Or Rory if need someone to help close up!” She shouted over her shoulder as she ran out, the chime of the bell ringing loudly behind her as the door snicked shut. 

Panem county was one of the smallest counties in the continental United States. The small townships of the Seam, Hob, and Panem Town proper, or just Town, as the locals called it barely drumed up a population of 4,000 residents combined. The only EMTs the county could afford to keep were volunteer ones, and they didn’t have regular shifts or wait at the station like their big-city counter parts. When someone called 911, dispatch paged everyone within a certain radius of the emergency. Special pre-recorded tones caused their minitors to beep loudly, alerting them to the emergency. 

They had different tones for ‘urgent response’, ‘potentially life-threatening’, and ‘immediately life-threatening’ situations. The call she received was the former. Luckily everyone at dispatch knew where to find her on a Tuesday night. 

She usually picked up a couple shifts a week working security down at old Sae’s quick-mart. The nights were long and tedious and she spent the majority of them watching the security cameras in the office on the look out for shop-lifters or teens trying to buy beer with fake IDs. Nothing serious, at least, nothing she couldn’t handle with a stern look and few sharp words. 

But this—this was a not not nothing. She hadn’t had a call this serious…maybe ever. 

Working at Sae’s put her within a mile of the garage so that meant she was going to be one of the first responders to make it there. She needed one other person with her before they could leave, as per the rules. More licsenced EMTs could show up and could ride along but they would have to get there before the ambulance took off. 

Her train of thought refocused as she pulled up to the old garage that housed the only ambulance and two working fire trucks that serviced the entire county. She pulled into the closest spot and hopped out down from her truck, ice crunching beneath her boots as she hurried into the garage. 

She was indeed the first one to arrive and she busied herself with pulling on her EMT uniform, getting the ambulance ready to go, making sure the tires were inflated, and chained properly for ice and snow, and turning on the engine and checking that the tank was full-which it was, thankfully. 

Just as she had finished taking a quick inventory of the medical supplies in the backseat she heard a voice call out from the entrance. 

“Always first to answer the call huh, Catnip?” The voice of her oldest and best friend, Gale Hawthorne rang out clearly amidst the rumble of the ambulance’s engine. Of course he would be the second one to the garage. 

“Early bird, and all that yada yada,” She replied as she shut the back doors and strode out to the front. Gale was already shrugging off his old coat and pulling on his EMT coveralls. 

“Hurry up will ya? Any longer and the stragglers will start to show and then we’ll have to let them ride with.” She shouted as she tossed the keyes to the bus over to him before she pulled open the passenger side and slid in. She didn’t really dislike the other EMTs but her and Gale had been friends and partners for years. They had a system and they knew each other like the backs of their own hands. She preferred working with him if she couldn’t work alone, and adding other EMTs just complicated things. 

Gale caught the keyes smoothly, like she knew he would, and he sent her cocky grin before he followed suit and slid into the driver’s seat. 

“Didn’t think you’d be up for letting me drive.” He commented as he strapped in and adjusted the mirror to fit his above average height.

“I wanna be first out when we get on the scene.” She said quickly as she pulled on her seatbelt and then turned on the ambulance radio. It was programmed to tune into the local police frequency and there was already some chatter going on about an accident out on the highway. 

“‘Course you do.” Gale said with a shake of his head. She ignored him in favor of listening to the information the dispatcher was relaying. 

Katniss’ grey eyes narrowed as she heard more details come through.

Jeep Grand Cherokee 1998 crashed out on the highway—around mile marker 113—One driver spotted inside the vehicle—unconscious

“Hurry your ass up!” She hissed at her partner when she heard the last descriptor. Gale shot her a look, but she didn’t even glance at him. She was staring ahead at the road that waited outside the garage as if she could will herself onto it faster. Without further prodding Gale flipped the lights and the ambulance siren on with a flick of his fingers and then they were off, practically peeling out of the garage in the next second. Under different circumstances she might have chewed him out for reckless driving but the roads were practically abandoned tonight and they needed to get on the scene fast. 

Besides, she couldn’t shake the antsy feeling she had since she’d gotten the call. There was something inside of her that was telling her that she just needed to get there as soon as possible. 

The drive out to the highway usually took fifteen minutes. Gale got them there in nine. 

The ambulance finally came to a stop just a few yards past the mile 113 marker. 

Up ahead she could make out the mangled up shape of a jeep that had gone head to head with an old spruce and lost. Unfortunately they weren’t in an ideal position to get the injured party inside the ambulance unless Gale repositioned the vehicle. 

“Hey you said you wanted to be first on the scene.” Gale replied with a shrug as he moved to undo his seatbelt. Katniss shook her head at him. 

“Stay put and back this thing up properly. Doors first!” She bit out tersely as she undid her belt and cracked open her door. She hopped down and shut the door closed on Gale’s complaints, ignoring him completely as she pulled her EMT pack higher on her shoulder and started to march forward. 

Sleet was still coming down heavily, and the road was slippery under her boots but her feet pulled her forward as quickly and surely as a lodestone is drawn to a magnet. 

Before she knew it she was right outside the driver side door, looking in on the man who had been behind the wheel. His face was turned toward her and she could distinguish his featured clearly. 

He was young, maybe in his late twenties, early thirties, he had ashy blond hair that fell in waves over his forehead. She could tell one other thing about him immediately by just looking—he was damn lucky. 

The airbag in his car had properly deployed, from her vantage point she could see the steady rise and fall of his chest. He was knocked unconscious, but not dead. The airbag and the seatbelt he was wearing had most likely saved his life, even though he drove an older model jeep and that sometimes meant that air bags didn’t always work like they should. The only visible injury she could see on him was a gash on his forehead. 

She needed to get him out of the car though, so she could assess the rest of him, check his torso and legs, but he looked kind big. Not as tall as Gale, but broad and stocky, with wide shoulders that were going to be a bitch to manover out of the mashed up wreck of his car if she guessed correctly. 

She tried tapping on his window to get his attention. It would be easier to move him if he was conscious, also he could unlock the doors instead of them having to shatter the window or the windshield and pull him out. But the man in the car didn’t stir. She tapped louder, as she noticed the car’s radio was amazingly still going and it was still playing music. 

Very familiar music. 

Earth stood hard as iron

Water like a stone

Snow had fallen

Snow on snow on snow

In the bleak midwinter

Long, long ago

The version playing was a little known and even less played solo sung by a local artist. It brought back the sounds and stories of her childhood. It brought back the knife edge of pain and loss. That beautiful, effortless voice that sailed over the notes and floated down to mesh with the music was a sound so steeped in memory that for a moment she couldn’t speak, couldn’t move, she was so caught off guard. 

Then there was a pop and a whoosh, the sound of the air bag deflating, and with it the radio sputtered out and died. The disturbance finally seemed to arouse the unconscious driver. 

The bluest eyes she’d ever seen blinked open and locked on her. She stood there staring right back at him, caught up in the bizareness of the situation. 

Then her training kicked in. 

She knocked on the window again and said in her most stern but calm voice, “Sir, you’ve been in an car accident. I need you to unlock your door and roll down the window so I can help you.” 

The man stared at her, in confusion for a second, but then his left hand reached out to do as she had asked. The first thing he said to her when the window came down was not what she was expecting. 

“Am I dead? Are you an angel? Do all angels frown like that?”

[angelkissiies]

sweets

archangel gabriel x reader

CW/TW : restlessness, talk of porn, sensuality, fluff, romance, literal soul bonding moment, upset brothers, cheeky gabriel, slight nsfw (like barely).

word count : 2021

a/n : this is completely based off of a tag i started using about a year ago “if gabriel was sucking on a lollipop and then transferred it into my mouth I wouldn’t be depressed anymore lol” so enjoy!

The library was incredibly dull, more than usual today it seemed. None of the books drew your attention, you tried to study the lore in your spare time- seeing as you weren’t as seasoned as Sam and Dean, but today it was just incredibly hard to find the drive. The spines were cracked and breaking down, pages filled with hard to read notes that the previous men of letters had left for future generations. The restlessness that had pulled you out of bed persisted, no matter how hard you tried to distract yourself.

It was 3:25am, the bunker was dead silent other than the slight hum of electrical energy circulating through the decades old machinery in the control room. You sat silently at the research tables, fingers grazing over the spines of the books you’d chosen from the shelf earlier. You could only wonder how many hands had touched this same book, how many times it had been used to save lives- but here you were, dreading even looking at it.

With a huff you stood up and made your way through the winding hallway that connected to the kitchen, you felt around on the wall for a second before finding the light switch and flicking it on. It took a few tries but the fluorescent light began to shutter on with an obnoxious hum. It flickered slightly but that was normal, this places electricity was finicky.

You scanned the room, eyeing the open cabinet space for anything that you deemed appetizing. There were the usual pantry staples like peanut butter, crackers, canned vegetables, stuff you really didn’t have a taste for. That was, until you spotted a bag of candy tucked behind the canned goods. It was most definitely Dean’s, seeing as he’s the only one who’d hide something so badly that you barely had to look for it. You pulled the bag out, inspecting the contents.

The bag was filled to the brim with lollipops, an unlikely candy choice you’d ever expect from Dean- but you weren’t complaining. The flavors ranged from cherry to some even as wild as chocolate cake. Nothing like you’d ever really heard of before.

“Don’t mind if I do.” You spoke aloud, pulling a blue raspberry one from the bag. It was your favorite flavor, a timeless classic- in your opinion. You crumpled up the wrapper in your hand before attempting to throw it into the trash bin from across the room, as you expected, you failed miserably and it landed in the floor. You decided to grab a couple more from the bag for safe keeping before heading back into the library.

The room didn’t seem so overwhelming now, though you still didn’t plan on doing any research. That could wait till tomorrow. Instead, you pulled Sam’s laptop off of the charger and settled into the armchair in the corner of the room. As you opened it up, the first pop up was definitely not what you expected.

“Busty blondes, huh?” You snickered to yourself, closing that tab out before opening a new one. You were so wrapped up in what you were doing that you didn’t hear the flutter of wings, signaling an angels entrance into the bunker.

“Well, well, well. (Y/n).. I didn’t take you for the late night porn escapade type.”

Your heart pretty much leaped out of your chest as you slammed the laptop closed, head almost doing a complete 360 as you looked for the owner of the voice. It wasn’t unusual to get a random message from Gabriel in a disembodied voice, it was his favorite way of fucking with you. This time, it was definitely not a disembodied voice. He very much was there.

Gabriel stood just behind you, leaning over the half bookshelf where he was able to see the computer screen before you closed it. “Did i startle you? My bad.” He smirked, moving around the bookshelf to lean against the research table.

You huffed lightly, embarrassed enough for the next century. “No, no. I wasn’t watching porn. It’s just Sam’s laptop- and also yes. Of course you startled me, you tend to just appear.” You stated, crossing your arms over your chest as you leaned back into the chair.

“Oh yeah? So Sam was looking up 70’s pornos? I took him for more of a blondes kinda guy.” He raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms as well. He looked.. different tonight. He was wearing a black button up with matching black dress pants. His sleeves were rolled up to his forearms and the top buttons of his shirt had been neglected- this was far from how he usually dressed. He must have had something or maybe someone important to go attend to today.

It took a second to process what he said, but when he did it couldn’t have been more crystal clear. He’d been watching you, that’s the only way he could’ve known- unless the blondes thing was really just a good guess. “How long have you been here, Gabriel?” You questioned, squinting at him in impartial curiosity. You never really minded when he just popped in, he was a fun guy to be around, not to mention he was very nice to look at. Despite how much you liked to look at him- he was an archangel, so off limits, the brothers made that very clear.

The man shrugged lightly, “Maybe ten minutes, just in time to see the fun stuff though.” He chuckled, running a hand through his hair before pulling a chair out from the table and turning it so it faced you. “I do have a question though.”

You furrowed your brows, relaxing a little more now that he was eye level with you. It made you nervous when people stood when having a conversation sitting down. “Okay, shoot. I might have an answer for you.” Something about this made you feel like you’d regret it later, his curiosity was never the innocent kind.

“Why 70’s pornos? I mean, we both know there are much better modern ones. The oldies are cheesy.” He asked, his hands resting under his chin now, he was so causal- he always made you feel comfortable around him.

The answer wasn’t so easy to explain though, between the niche of 70’s porn and the embarrassment you felt from being caught doing such on Sam’s laptop of all things. You swished the lollipop around in your mouth, attempting to find a suitable answer. One that was honest, but not too vulnerable.

“Well, I mean, it’s cringey but good. The films are cheesy but I don’t mind that. Modern stuff is just much too.. aggressive.” You explained, your answer was genuine but you weren’t quite sure why you were as honest as you’d been. “Anyways, what are you doing here?”

Gabriel smiled leaning back in the wooden chair, hands resting on his knees. His eyes wandered down to your lips before turning back to your eyes, “I wanted to see you, talk to you actually.”

The way he looked at you made your heart flutter but you swallowed those feelings down, focusing on his words instead. “Is everything okay?” You pulled the now empty stick from your mouth, throwing it in the bin beside the chair as you opened a new one. This one was chocolate flavored and as you popped it into your mouth, the flavor lived up to its name.

He gave a quick nod, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “Everything’s fine, I swear.” His eyes were simmering with something deeper, an intensity you’d never seen from him before. He reached out to caress your face, touching you with the utmost tenderness before moving to pull the lollipop from your lips.

Without missing a beat, he popped the lollipop into his mouth, letting out a sinful groan. His lips upturned into a wicked smile, “Chocolate with a hint of something much sweeter.” He commented, twirling the lollipop around on his tongue.

You felt your face begin to heat up, heart skipping beats. Was this real? You had to be dreaming, there was no way this was actually happening. “Gabriel-,” you began, only to be cut off.

“Tell me your don’t like it and I’ll stop.” He swore, hand brushing against your thigh. His skin was so warm compared to your own from being stuck in the cool bunker for so long. The contrast was nice, if you were being honest with yourself, it was much more than nice. “I won’t do anything unless you say it’s okay.”

Something over took you, as you leaned toward to come closer to the man- your hand moved up to swipe the lollipop out of his mouth. You threw it hazardously onto the floor, pulling him in to crash your lips against his. It was sweet, he tasted like chocolate and mint. As if he’d been preparing for this.

Gabriel’s hands hooked under your thighs, pulling you onto his lap without breaking the kiss. He let his hands wander, memorizing the curvature of your body. He couldn’t help hold onto you like this moment was fleeting, but by the way you pressed your body against his- he knew you were here to stay. He broke this kiss, gripping onto your hips to keep you still. “We don’t have to go any further than this, sweetheart. You know that.”

You gripped onto his shirt for dear life, not wanting him to slip through your fingers. “I want you to kiss me again, please.” You murmured, hands moving to busy themselves with his buttons. “I just want to kiss you so badly.”

A cheeky smirk played on his lips, he moved a hand up to rest on the nape of your neck. He gently began to guide you down to his lips, before stopping abruptly. There was barely a centimeter between the two of you, warm breath puffing across each other’s faces. He leaned in a bit to brush his lips against yours but nothing more than that, which earned an annoyed groan from you.

“Take a breath, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere.” He instructed, eyes taking in all he could. From this close, he could see the sunbursts in your eyes and the seasonal freckles that were so light you could barely see them. He loved it, he loved knowing that there were still things about you he’d get to learn and love everyday.

You followed his directions, taking in a deep breath and releasing it in one fluid motion. Your face was tinted pink, still flustered from this whole thing. You were sitting on the lamp of one of the most powerful creatures in the world, the most baffling thing- no man ever looked at you before, but Gabriel didn’t just look at you- he felt you. In the moment, it was as if you two had become one. He felt your emotions reverberate from inside of him, echoing in his chest.

Gabriel closed the gap, pressing his lips against your own. This time was different, there was no urgency. No need to fast track it all. It was slow and sentimental. He needed you. All he felt was you. His hands caressed the skin just under the fabric of your shirt, he didn’t dare to go further as it was unnecessary. He just wanted to touch you. To feel your skin against his own. He ached for you.

The light suddenly flickered on, pretty much blinding the both of you- as the room was previously at the mercy of a table lamp you had turned on earlier.

“What the fuck, is that-?”

“Gabriel?”

The voices of the two very commonly known as Sam and Dean made you freeze in place. It was Dean’s rule not to date angels, but yet here you were caught, sitting on the lap of none other than the archangel Gabriel.

“Oh! Hey guys, whatcha doing?” You smiled, pretending they couldn’t see the scene that appeared in front of their very eyes.

They both scowled at you, crossing their arms as they stood in the doorway in their sleep robes. “You have explaining to do, right now-,” Dean demanded, only to be cut off by Gabriel.

The man chuckled, not wanting to let go of you. “Yeah, well, there will be explaining done. Just not right now. See you guys later!” Before the brothers could even protest, the two of you were gone.

“The archangel, really? It could’ve been anyone else.”

“She has very poor taste in men.”

[countrymusiclover]

51 - The Lane Family Darkness

Part 52

Family is More than Blood

@secretdreamlandmentality

Jacob’s pov

I couldn’t believe my sister right now. She would never understand with her and her hybrid husband being able to keep making babies. I decided to take matters into my own hands and figure out the spell that Klaus's dead mother used that gave her the ability. Stomping through the woods I removed the duffel bag off my shoulder and sat it down on the hard dirt. “This should be a good enough spot.”

“Care to tell us what we are doing out here, J?” Hayley asked me, arms over her chest.

Andrea, my daughter , tilted her head in confusion. “Yeah dad. You said you needed help but with what I don't get.”

“I need you to siphon the magic out of this.” Rummaging around in the duffel bag at my feet I drew out the Ascendent that I had taken from Josie and Lizzie when they had brought it back to the school.

My wife Hayley eyed me. “Why does she have to do it? You’re half siphon witch too. So I suggest you start telling us what is really going on.”

“I have to do another spell once you have the magic inside of you and the spell requires the family blood.” I lied the best that I could knowing that dark magic hadn’t been good in the hands of Josie or my twin but she refuses to help me.

Andrea takes the Ascendent from my hands, closing her eyes beginning to chant the siphoning spell. “Magia tollux de terras…Magia tollux de terras.” Her hands on the object turned red until she dropped it on the grass and I saw black veins crawling over her arms.

Hayley gasped, stepping forward to touch her. “Jacob, what the hell are you doing to her!”

“Be quiet, Hayley! Okay give it to me, sweetheart.” Grasping my daughter’s hands in my own I drag a knife across her right palm, letting the blood drip onto our intertwined hands. She winced when our hands turned red and I started siphoning the dark magic from her. “In unum edito, dominus sae domina. Cuplas sino lieros. In unum edito, dominus - shit Klaus!”

“What the bloody hell do you think you're doing, Jacob!” The hybrid growled in my face, the fangs and veins appearing very quickly.

Hayley stepped forward asking. “Yeah what are you doing, J?”

“Urgh it's none of your business Niklaus - motus.” I grunted siphoning off of his forearm lunching him into the nearest tree.

He shakes his head with some wounds healing over. “It is my business when you are part of the reason my wife was terrified to take her magic back.”

“What's wrong with Aunt Rae?” Andrea asked her uncle with a lot of concern in her tone of voice.

Klaus rose up from the ground dusting his hands on his pants. “He hasn't told you because he doesn't even know himself. She's in a coma because of my idiot daughters who tried consuming the Dark magic inside of that.” He pointed at the Ascendent laying in the dirt.

“Dark magic!” Andrea cried out looking at her hands that once had the power inside of them.

Hayley glared at me. “Jacob Lane, how could you trick your daughter like that. And all for what?”

“So that we could have more children like we talked about years ago. Andrea doesn't deserve to be an only child!” I shouted back at the three of them with some of the trees around us suddenly bursting into flames.

Hayley stepped over to our daughter holding her against her chest noticing something on my arms. “J, if giving me more babies means you'll have to die for real this time then I don't want any.”

“Hayley I'll be fine.”

Klaus scoffed under his breath. “No you won't, mate. Look at your arm because I remember quite clearly that magic nearly killed your sister.”

“You’re just trying to talk me out of what I want. There’s no…marks.” I raised up my arm gasping under my breath seeing small thin black lines crawling up my arms.

My brother in law snarled. “I’m not bluffing anything, mate. Now either you are going to help me save my wife, your sister or you will face some very painful consequences!”

“Uncle Klaus, don’t hurt him.” Andrea begged me with some watery eyes.

Spinning around on my feet I snapped at my niece even though I didn’t wish too but her father needed to understand how selfish he was being to let his sister suffer. “I’m sorry, Andrea. Bu he refuses to accept the weight that his sister is suffering in agonizing torment and now he is only thinking about himself.”

“Shut the hell up, Klaus!” I yelled towards the hybrid, turning my hands into fists at my sides.

The hybrid vamped forward grabbing me by my throat and slamming me into the nearest tree that I hadn’t sent up in heavy flames. “Klaus don’t!” Hayley warned him with her eyes glowing golden but she remained by our daughter's side.

“Don’t worry, little wolf. He will heal you know.” Klaus held his gaze on mine intensely.

Andrea croaked out. “Uncle Klaus, don’t hurt him. I’ll help you save Aunt Rae.”

“Oh this is now about more than needing his help, dear.” His eyes turned dark gold following the dark veins and fangs of his vampire side coming through. “The reason for this chokehold is on the fact that I don’t understand why your father’s desire for having more children is overshadoweding his desire to help his sister.”

“I’m angry with her - that’s enough of a reason.” I winced when his fingers closed tighter around my throat.

Klaus pressed his nose against mine getting in my face. “Your sister was so broken up years ago when she was tricked to kill you. She would have gone through hell on Earth to protect you but you don’t seem to be the same. From where I am standing I don’t see how you two are related. You may share the same blood yet that seems to be the only thing you have in common.”

“Klaus, I get you upset. So just put him down and we can find a way to help you.” Hayley touched his shoulder before he moved his hands tightly around my neck more and snapped it where I grunted falling to the dirt at his feet.

Andrea gasped, covering her mouth with her hands. “Was that necessary?”

“He needed to be taught a lesson and don’t worry he’ll come back you know that, Little Lane.” Klaus dropped his hands to his side eyeing the knocked out vampire. His phone vibrated in his pocket till he put it up to his ear. “Melissa, have you found anything?”

“Lizzie thinks she can help us.” The young heretic answered his question.

He responded by vamping away from the two other supernaturals. “Brilliant. I’ll be there shortly. This could have gone less violent if he just helped me.”

“Sometimes I really don’t like the Mikaelson family.” Hayley hugged her daughter to her chest while they waited for Jacob to wake up.

Missy’s pov

Remaining in a sitting position at my mothers bedside I felt a huge weight on my shoulders from not being there to stop my sisters from putting her in this situation. They had no right on not telling me in what they were doing especially if they knew about mom’s situation. Footsteps were heard coming up the stairs and the door creaked open. “Dad, Lizzie isn’t here yet. So we’ll just have to wait a second - Ethan what are you doing here?”

“I know you said that you don’t want me around sometimes because you’re worried about me getting hurt. But I uh…brought some French fries and a chocolate milkshake from the Grill.” He nervously stands in the doorway revealing a paper bag and a shake cup from behind his back.

Flipping my hair out of my line of sight I sighed. “E, I really don’t think - I can’t believe you remembered one of my favorite things from there.”

“Of course I remember. You are my girlfriend after all.” He walked over handing me the shake and then the bag before he sat down beside me on the bed.

Shoving my hand in the bag of fries I ate one talking with my mouth full. “Thank you for this. I actually haven’t eaten much all day given what’s happened with her.”

“Do you wanna tell me what is happening with her or not?” Ethan asked me, trailing his voice off.

Swallowing some more fries I shifted my gaze to my unconscious mother. Her hair was slightly tousled and you could see the black veins crawling up her body. “My sisters made her take her magic back when she wasn't ready for it. Now she's under some coma or something. And we're not sure if we can wake her up.”

“That's scary. But you’ve a Mikaelson. From what I've seem you guys don't go down without a fight.” My boyfriend responded before I sat my drink down and hugged him without saying a word.

He wrapped his arms around my waist and embraced me back with the same comfort level. “Thank you, E.”

Footsteps came into the room and so we separated from one another seeing Lizzie. “So I think we should be able to just siphon it out of here.” She sat down a Grimor on the edge of the bed.

“Siphon it into what would be helpful to know, Elizabeth.” My father vamped into the bedroom standing by her side seconds later.

She flipped her hair over her shoulder. “I don't know. I assume we could put it inside the Prison World that it was previously in.”

“Uhhh! My head hurts…” Everyone in the room quickly turns their heads in the direction of the new voice. My mother slowly pushed herself up in a sitting position holding the side of her neck.

I gasped with Ethan reached out to her. “Ms. Mikaelson. are you okay?”

“Ah! I will be once I…kill you.” My mother slowly revealed her fangs from her mouth. The veins under her eyes appeared as she launched herself straight for my boyfriend.

I screamed out. “Ethan!”

“Expello.” Lizzie gripped my father’s forearm siphoning from him, managing to create a quick boundary spell that my mom hit her forehead straight into.

I dragged Ethan off the bed and he sucked in a breath seeing my mother standing there up against the barrier. She pressed her hands against it, baring her teeth. “I didn’t think she’d ever do that. Is something wrong with her?”

“She definitely would never hurt you unless you deserved it.” I bent down on my knees seeing no injuries on him. Ethan grasped my hand in his slowly getting his breathing under control.

Lizzie pointed her index finger, gaining our attention. “Were her eyes like that the last time she consumed Dark Magic?”

“Get out of here right now. I’ll handle her and don’t do anything reckless or stupid until I tell you otherwise!” My father turned his hands into fists at his sides, instructing the three of us to leave quickly and we all scrambled out the doorway with me shutting the bedroom door behind me.

Raelyn's eyes turned black as night, slamming her hands against the barrier. “You can’t beat me, hybrid!”

“I’m not trying to beat you whoever you are that has passed the love of my life.” Klaus slowly stepped forward until he reached the barrier as close as he possibly could. “But I am going to get my wife back.”

Dark Raelyn tilted her head to the side with a cheeky smirk playing on her lips. “Are you sure you don’t love me instead of the other Raelyn?”

“What do you mean by that, witch?” He snarled at her.

The heretic held her smirk when she spoke her next words leaving the hybrid in front of her speechless. “What I mean is you only think that you want goodness in your life. But the truth is deep down inside I can feel that you’re drawn to her darkness just as much as she is to yours. What do you say to that, hybrid?” Klaus just blinked his eyes wishing he could be staring back at his wife’s beautiful eyes rather than the mistress of darkness.

[a-cup-of-fantasy]

so, as the next couple chapters for my main @smvillainsweek fic are going to take a while for me to finish, here's a bonus snippet for the free day (though it still fits under the theme of corruption) that takes place between the second and third chapters.

I actually wrote this like a year and a half ago, and it's been sitting in my giant folder of sailor moon wips, and I thought now would be an appropriate point to share it, to tumblr at least. I may post it to ao3 eventually, idk.

(edit: I have now posted it to ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50676811)

it's a short kunzoi piece, with implied/fade to black sex, but nothing at all explict. hope you enjoy!

Zoisite marched into their rooms in a huff, only to sigh as he entered to see Kunzite pouring over papers at the table there. “You’re still at it? You promised you’d be done for the day hours ago.” 

There was no response.

“Kunzite?” 

He walked over and placed a hand on his shoulder. At the touch, Kunzite whirled around, with his fingers just beginning to spark with the light of a spell and his eyes a dull grey, unfocused. “Hey, it’s just me! All I did was say hi—you’re not usually this jumpy.”

Kunzite’s eyes widened as he took in what was before him. He shook his head. “I’m sorry—I didn’t hear you come in. I must have been more absorbed in the work than I thought. What time is it?”

“Far past time for you to go get something to eat, if you’ve been sitting here since I left you.” Zoisite said, and he sighed, letting go of the snide tone. “Come on, I’m worried about you. You’ve been so stressed the past few days. And what are you even working on that’s got you like this, anyway?”

“I’m looking at the records of who and how many people have been entering the Earth from the Silver Millenium. There’s something—”

“Really? That’s what has got you so stressed you forgot we were supposed to have dinner together?”

“We were—oh shit. That was tonight, wasn't it.”

“Yes, yes it is. Why do you think I’m dressed up like this?” Zoisite turned around, showing off how the green silk of his shirt shimmered in the light, and how it highlighted the embroidery of the floral patterns he so loved. He stopped when he was facing away from Kunzite, and made as if to walk out the door. “Though, I suppose since you’re so occupied with your work, I may as well just leave you to it.”

Kunzite stood up from the desk and put his arms around him. “I’m sorry, love. I got caught up in this, and I completely forgot. Can you find it in yourself to forgive me?”

“I don’t know…” he said, but he broke off in a giggle when Kunzite began to press kisses to the back of his neck. 

“How about now?” 

Zoisite wanted to melt back into Kunzite’s touch, but he decided he’d play hard to get for a while longer. “I think it’ll take more than a few kisses to get me to forgive you for standing me up like that.”

“What about some pretty words then? Like how absolutely ravishing you look in that outfit, or how incredibly sorry I am to have left you on your lonesome for so long? Or, would you prefer me to get on my knees?” His words were punctuated by kisses, and one of his hands began to slide down Zoisite’s leg as he murmured into his ear.

“Alright, alright, that’s enough, you flatterer.” Zoisite turned around and drew Kunzite into a long kiss. “I forgive you,” he said as he pulled away. “But, I’m still worried about you. You’ve hardly been doing anything but work the past few days, and I could have sworn you’d said you wouldn’t be as busy now as you had been recently. What’s going on?”

“Oh, forget about it for now.” Kunzite lifted Zoisite up in his arms and carried him to the bed. 

Zoisite frowned as Kunzite set him down. “I’m serious.”

“Fine. It’s the Moon, there’s something—” He stopped and sighed when he saw Zoisite’s blank stare. “You don’t see it.”

“You’re right, I don’t see it. I don't understand what it is that’s got you so worried.” He looked into Kunzite’s eyes, still the brilliant silver that he’d fallen in love with. “Just… just promise me that you’re okay?”

“I promise.” He started to undo the ties holding Zoisite’s shirt together. “Don’t worry, my love. It’ll be fine. I’m fine. Now, I think there is something far more enjoyable we could be doing, don’t you agree? ”

The caress of Kunzite’s hands on his skin thoroughly distracted Zoisite from his concerns and drove any worried thoughts from his mind, if only for a little while. For, as he lay in bed afterwards, with Kunzite’s strong arms around him, he couldn’t get rid of the sensation that was creeping up his spine, the unshakable feeling that something, somewhere, was going wrong.

[letterstosestrilles]

Dear Brennu,

It will be a bit before I can send this one, and believe me, I’m going to be very relieved when Kirim is connected to wider communications networks, which is apparently due to happen in the next year or so, so it will be much easier to keep up with family here then, and to keep up with everyone at home when I’m here.

This time, at least, I have many of the people I care about with me—my Sestrilles family are all here for nearly a full month, and Maliah and Niko have promised to stay as long as I need them.

I’ve needed them, because even great joy is hard sometimes.

The first thing I had to do when I got here, aside from settle into the house set aside for us here in the city of Sunwest, was collect my Kirimi family around me: my grandmother Am’elyn, my aunt Khama’air, my cousin Tidge. I told them enough of what my latest and biggest quest was to explain why gods would feel they owed me a boon, and then I told them what that boon was. There were tears, and a lot more explanations, and we all took a few days to prepare, to talk about all of it some more, and in my and Am’elyn’s cases, to stop by the temple to the Lady of the Stars to give her fervent thanks.

Mishakal gave me the power to cast the spell three times without cost, and I thought that I could probably do them all at once, but that it was likely to drain me of nearly all my energy and bring my parents back to life with the very poor welcome of their daughter fainting on the floor.

So instead I wasted a whole day debating with myself what order to bring them back in, when I was so desperate to have all of them close enough to hold at the last moment that I couldn’t for the life of me decide. In the end, with a bit of cowardice, I decided to go not on my own desires but on the other family members left to my parents: to give Am’elyn back her son, Khama’air her sibling, Tidge his cousin.

That meant that, when I finally gathered everyone together (nearly a week ago now—as you might guess, I’ve been busy), I prayed to Mishakal and to the Lady of Stars and drew on my magic and called back my father Kadan. I’ve cast Raise Dead a few times, and Resurrection, watched a dead body stir back into life, but there was something strange and almost unbelievable in casting a huge magic and then there being a person where there wasn’t before, from nothing at all to someone who hasn’t been alive in half a century standing there in front of me, taking me in his arms, both of us staggering a little until we ended up on the floor.

I talked without realizing I was talking, trying to tell him everything at once, until he quieted me a little to say the more important things, and then I could pull myself together well enough to introduce him to my family, and my family to him. They all greeted him warmly, asked him questions but not too many, until both of us started to nod off, at which point my brother carried me off to bed over my somewhat muzzy objections.

The next day I brought back Hanai, who stepped forward to press our foreheads together almost immediately. They’re the one who gave me my earring before they put me in an escape pod and saved me, and they commented on it, with an apology for leaving me alone, and what could I say but that I wasn’t, with that close—and with the rest of my family as well? And then they could be introduced around as well, and to hold on tight to Kadan, to meet Alion and have a few pleasant minutes of scientific conversation. I was hardly out of range of touch of either of them for the rest of the day.

And the next day, with the last of my reserves of magic from Mishakal, with one more prayer, I brought back Ezenki, my other father, who paused just long enough to be startled at the very impressive match of our hair colors before hugging me, holding on tight until I beckoned and Kadan and Hanai could join us, all four of us together again for the first time since the day the Procyon wrecked.

Since then, it’s been days upon days of talking, in every possible combination. None of us wants to let the others out of our sight, so we’ve mostly set up camp in the house’s living room, only peeling off one or two at a time to take a break and cry or take a walk or simply nap alone.

The rest of my family seems to know exactly when to stay close and when to find things to do elsewhere. Maliah has been wandering the trails outside of Sunwest, sometimes taking Tidge or Niko along, and Niko has been exploring some textiles and working on learning a bit of gnomish. Alion and Tiriel, my Sestrilles parents, have after some brief awkwardness seemed to decide to adopt my Kirimi parents as honorary siblings, and my Kirimi parents have decided that since I consider Tyko a brother, he’s another son to them. I’ve already found Alion and Hanai talking about data storage, Tiriel getting a recipe from Ezenki, Kadan asking Tyko about his plans for buying the shop he runs.

It hasn’t all been easy. I never expected that it would be. Ezenki and Tidge have been working through a lot of awkwardness and grief, since a lot of their branch of the family was on the Procyon, Tidge’s parents included, and I couldn’t bring back everyone. Hanai and Khama’air have had at least one hissed argument they thought I couldn’t hear. Am’elyn can hardly seem to look at Kadan without crumbling into tears. I keep waking up at night wondering if I’ve made it all up, if I died after all in Onver’s lair and this is all just something I’m imagining.

We’ll be here a while, as we work through it. A few months, I’d say, though I hope you’ll get this letter before that, and more letters too. When my Sestrilles family goes home, maybe they’ll do a relay, or if Gaizka finds a diplomatic excuse to come as they threatened when they found out what I was doing, they should be able to set something up, or take a relay likewise.

And then I’ll come back, and start learning what I want my life to look like now. There are a few fixed points: the quest for Jhasdej, my own and Maliah’s, which I want to help her with. Giving some concerts, now that I’ve promised you, Maliah, and Tyko that I’ll do some. Devon’s college tour. You.

Other things are a mystery, but I can almost see the shape of them. I’ll find a somewhat permanent residence, and my parents want to live near me, to make up for some lost time, so I’ll have them close. I’ll find something useful to do, more about building than searching or destroying. I’ll have the people I love around me. And, I hope, very soon the joy will feel more real.

I think it will. One of my fathers just called for me, and it didn’t cause a moment of disbelief. It’s a good beginning, isn’t it?

Love,

Elyn

[autolovecraft]

Would the firm Fenner casket have caved in so readily?

After a full two hours Dr. Davis left Birch that night he had taken a lantern and gone to the old receiving tomb. It is doubtful whether he was touched at all by the horror and exquisite weirdness of his position, but the other was worse—those ankles cut neatly off to fit Matt Fenner's cast-aside coffin, but you knew what a little man old Fenner was. Well enough to skimp on the thing some way, but you knew what a little man old Fenner was.

Just where to begin Birch's story I can hardly decide, since I am no practiced teller of tales.

Birch was glad to get to shelter as he unlocked the iron door and entered the side-hill vault. On the afternoon of Friday, April 15th, then, Birch set out for the tomb with horse and wagon to transfer the body of Matthew Fenner. But it would be well to say as little as could be said, and to use it when Asaph Sawyer died of a malignant fever.

Whether he had imagination enough to wish they were empty, is strongly to be doubted. After a full two hours Dr. Davis left Birch that night he had taken a lantern and gone to the old receiving tomb. He was just dizzy and careless enough to annoy his sensitive horse, which as he drew it viciously up at the tomb neighed and pawed and tossed its head, much as on that former occasion when the rain had vexed it. When he perceived that the latch was hopelessly unyielding, at least in a city; and even Peck Valley would have shuddered a bit had it known the easy ethics of its mortuary artist in such debatable matters as the ownership of costly laying-out apparel invisible beneath the casket's lid, and the latch of the great door yielded readily to a touch from the outside. His day's work was sadly interrupted, and unless chance presently brought some rambler hither, he might have to remain all night or longer.

In time the hole grew so large that he ventured to try his body in it now and then, shifting about so that the coffins beneath him rocked and creaked. As he planned, he could not shake clear of the unknown grasp which held his feet in relentless captivity.

Neither did his old physician Dr. Davis, who died years ago. At any rate he kicked and squirmed frantically and automatically whilst his consciousness was almost eclipsed in a half-swoon. He worked largely by feeling now, since newly gathered clouds hid the moon; and though progress was still slow, he felt heartened at the extent of his encroachments on the top and bottom of the aperture.

He was just dizzy and careless enough to annoy his sensitive horse, which as he drew it viciously up at the tomb neighed and pawed and tossed its head, much as on that former occasion when the rain had vexed it. But it would be well to say as little as could be said, and to use it when Asaph Sawyer died of a malignant fever. Birch decided that he would begin the next day with little old Matthew Fenner, whose grave was not far from the tomb. There was evidently, however, no pursuer; for he was alone and alive when Armington, the lodge-keeper, answered his feeble clawing at the door. I agreed that he was wise in so doing. Tired and perspiring despite many rests, he descended to the floor and sat a while on the bottom box to gather strength for the final wriggle and leap to the ground outside. Armington, the lodge-keeper, answered his feeble clawing at the door. The practices I heard attributed to him would be unbelievable today, at least in a city; and even Peck Valley would have shuddered a bit had it known the easy ethics of its mortuary artist in such debatable matters as the ownership of costly laying-out apparel invisible beneath the casket's lid, and the latch of the great door yielded readily to a touch from the outside.

What else, he added, could ever in any case be proved or believed? On the afternoon of Friday, April 15th, then, Birch set out for the tomb with horse and wagon to transfer the body of Matthew Fenner. Birch decided that he would begin the next day with little old Matthew Fenner, whose grave was not far from the daily paths of men was enough to exasperate him thoroughly. This arrangement could be ascended with a minimum of awkwardness, and would furnish the desired height. Certainly, the events of that evening greatly changed George Birch. Over the door, however, the high, slit-like transom in the brick facade gave promise of possible enlargement to a diligent worker; hence upon this his eyes long rested as he racked his brains for means to reach it.

[casuallyimagining]

Home (1)

Sequel to Fix You. Read it first.

Hybrid Min Yoongi x Female Reader; Platonic OT7 x Female Reader; Namseok; Jinkook

Summary: After helping Yoongi get away from his abusive former owner, you’re left to focus on your relationship and how it progresses. That is, until you find six other hybrids who need your help, and their former owner decides he’s going to make your life hell. Genre: hurt/comfort, angst, fluff Word Count: 2,564 Rating: M Warnings (updated per chapter): stalking

Major thanks to @eatjeanjin for beta-ing this and for listening to me complain almost constantly. You’ve been nothing but helpful and sweet, and I’m so grateful for your opinions and assistance.

banners by @mintkims

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The thing about having a black cat as a pet is that it suddenly becomes a major part of your personality. Everything and anything that comes in a black cat variety can and will become your Christmas present for the rest of your life. Dish towels, pot holders, sassy garden flags, ceramic knick-knacks, decorative throws--you’ll own them all.

This is all well and good. Black cats are cute, and statistically, they’re adopted much less frequently. And really, when your cat doesn’t understand that its likeness is mirrored on almost everything you own, it’s simply a personality quirk of the owner.

It becomes a problem, however, when your cat is actually half-human and is very much aware that all of your tea towels bear his likeness and that your parents have taken every excuse to buy you tiny ceramic black cat figurines to decorate your home office. It’s a problem, because not only does he find it hilarious, it makes him a little smug.

Now, you couldn’t go anywhere without him pointing out every black cat item to you.

“Oh look!” Yoongi’s voice drew your attention. When you looked, he was holding up a custom garden sign, the cheesy grin on his face almost exactly matching the cat’s on the sign. Behind him, his tail swished happily.

“Oh my god,” you said with a laugh, rolling your eyes. “I don’t think we need another stupid garden sign.”

“It’ll match the one your mom got you!” He put it back on the table anyway, his hand automatically reaching out for yours as you left the stall.

“We don’t even have a garden.”

“We have potted plants!”

“No, kitty, we used to have potted plants. And then they died because we forgot to take care of them.”

He laughed at that, leaning in and burying his nose into the hair above your ear. You leaned into his touch. He had become so much more open and confident in the time that you’d known him. You could remember the first time you had brought him to the hybrid farmer’s market nearly two years ago--he had been so terrified of everything, so afraid to even talk to the vendors, that he could barely enjoy the experience.

But news of Yoongi’s emancipation had spread throughout the tight-knit hybrid community in the city, and it had become quite the comfortable place once the group had implemented a ban on certain unsavory former owners. Not to mention the fact that Yoongi was starting to become more comfortable in his own skin, more comfortable being out in the world, so he was able to enjoy himself more.

The market wasn’t busy--it was still early in the season--but that didn’t stop the vendors from setting up their wares anyway. The market had become somewhat of a habit for the two of you.

Yoongi loved looking at every stall at the farmer’s market, and it had really helped him come out of his shell. While he was still wary of crowds, the two of you had gotten to know most of the regular vendors over the past few years. Having familiar faces on the other side of the booths had invigorated Yoongi in a way that you hadn’t expected.

He spent most of the morning chatting with the vendors like they were old friends. He stopped to ask Steph, who sold honey and beeswax, how her bees were doing. He had read an interesting fact about woodworking that he wanted to share with Luis. And he was very excited to see what new produce Sarah and Shane were selling for the spring.

“Pearl should be back soon, right?” He questioned as you passed an empty stall.

In the warmer months, it would be occupied by an older cat hybrid named Pearl. She was kind and had taught Yoongi to knit out of the kindness of her heart in return for a scarf when he got good enough to share his work. Yoongi had kept his promise and had knitted her a scarf last year. The two had been thick as thieves ever since. But it was still May, and it was a little too cold for her to be sitting at the market all day.

“Probably next month,” you told him, squeezing his hand.

He hummed and nodded, continuing through the market. It was almost lunchtime, and you were on the way out. It was so early in the market’s season that the food trucks weren’t even set up yet. But that didn’t mean that you were leaving empty handed. You had gotten two bars of Yoongi’s favorite honey almond soap, as well as bushels of cherries and strawberries that he had wanted for a recipe.

You enjoyed the walk from the back of the market to the parking lot. The end of May air was just starting to get warm, and there was a humidity that suggested that a storm was going to blow in soon. This time of year was among your favorites, partially because the weather was nice, but mostly because it reminded you of Yoongi.

It had been three years since you had saved him from your parents’ neighbor and his dog. And holy fuck what a three years it had been. Between the therapy and the court proceedings, you had barely had time to think that first year. Thankfully, you’d been able to relax a little more after that, and you could focus on what was important. Namely, the budding whatever-this-was between you and Yoongi. It had been two years since he’d first kissed you, and neither of you had ever gone so far as to put a label on what your relationship was.

Just before getting to your car, Yoongi froze, his ears rotating this way and that as he listened to something. You were about to ask him what he was hearing when you saw the man. He stood three rows of cars away, hard stare fixed on you and the hybrid beside you. His hair was almost entirely grey now, but the bile still rose into your throat at the sight of him.

Seungri.

“Let’s go to lunch, yeah?” you suggested, trying to tug Yoongi toward your car.

But it was too late. He’d seen Seungri.

“Isn’t he banned from the market?” he growled, tail puffing up defensively.

You wrapped an arm around him and steered him away. “I don’t think they can technically ban him from the parking lot.”

Yoongi was in a sour mood as you drove, your hand clutched in his, with his ears pressed firmly against his skull. He stared out the window, watching as you got closer and closer to downtown. The traffic got heavier and the pedestrians more abundant as you approached your destination.

As you pulled into the parking garage across the street from the cafe, Yoongi sighed heavily. He always got like this when the two of you ran into Seungri, and it had been happening more and more recently. Even though he had nothing to worry about, seeing his former owner shook Yoongi to the core, and you suspected it always would.

You held his hand tightly as you crossed the street and entered the cafe, barely acknowledging the bright greeting from the cafe’s hybrid owner, your friend and client Khai. You let Yoongi lead you to a table by the window, sliding into the chair across from him. A few silent moments passed, and Khai brought you both your regular drink orders--an iced macchiato with soy milk for you, and an iced Americano for Yoongi.

Yoongi leaned on his hand, playing absently with the paper straw in his drink. You hated when he got like this, hated seeing him hurting. You watched him out of the corner of your eye, your face turned to look out the window. It was starting to drizzle.

“I just wish he would go away,” Yoongi said softly.

Khai had delivered your sandwiches barely a moment ago. The Bengal cat hybrid hadn’t bothered to take your orders, just bringing you one of your three favorite sandwiches at random. Normally, you would have been annoyed, but somehow, Khai’s personality made his assumptions charming, and it was hard to argue when the food was as good as it was.

“I know, baby. But Ms. Hwang said there wasn’t much else we could do.” You reached across and squeezed his fingers.

He sighed, picking up a potato chip and popping it into his mouth. “It’s just… it makes it hard. Trying to move on from everything, when he can just pop up anywhere.”

You nodded, unsure of what to say. You could sympathize, sure. It must be hard for him, seeing his abusive former owner at random while you were out and about. It must be difficult to have to relive some of his worst memories at the most unexpected times. But you had no idea what he was actually going through. You still didn’t even know the full extent of it. There were still things he wouldn’t tell you about. A few experiences you could assume the details of, but he would never actually discuss them.

You never pushed it. He had opened up so much to you. If he wanted or needed to talk to you about it, you knew he would.

Admittedly, though, sometimes it did bother you that he kept certain things to himself. He never mentioned the other hybrids Seungri owned. Thanks to Seungri’s testimony at the trial, you knew that there were at least six more, but except for vaguely mentioning them at Christmas time, Yoongi refused to talk about them. You had brought it up once, shortly after the trial, but he had shut down, changing the subject as soon as he possibly could and falling into a funk for the rest of the day. You stopped asking about it after that.

Movement on the corner of the street corner drew your attention. Mentally you swore. You were starting to get annoyed with Seungri popping up literally everywhere. At this point, you were convinced he was tracking you somehow, but you couldn’t prove it. You watched as he idled in front of the parking garage. Hopefully he would be gone by the time you were ready to leave.

You should know not to hope for things to go well.

When you exited the cafe, Seungri was nowhere to be found, and for a moment, you thought you were safe. Yoongi swung your hand gently between you as you crossed the street, the rain gently pattering on the pavement around you. He was still a bit down from seeing Seungri at the farmer’s market, but he had started telling you about one of the books he was reading, and his mood was starting to lighten.

That was, of course, until you took two steps into the parking garage. A hybrid with large, pointy ears and a fluffy tail stood in your path. For a moment, he leaned nonchalantly against a concrete pillar in the structure, but the closer you got, you could tell his attention was on you. And then, when you were a few feet away, he pushed himself off the pillar, and just from the look on his face, you could tell he was a fox hybrid. He flashed you a cheshire grin and walked past you.

You knew something was up when Yoongi tensed, his grip on your hand tightened and he tugged you ever so slightly closer. That’s when you heard the light chuckle from behind you, and when you turned, your blood ran cold.

The fox hybrid stood beside Seungri, who looked positively delighted to be in a nearly empty parking lot with the two of you.

“I see you’ve grown a bit of a spine,” he said, a smirk on his lips. “Good for you.”

“Oh, Seungri, what a surprise,” you said dryly. “You know you technically shouldn’t be this close, right?” It wasn’t a question.

Part of Yoongi’s emancipation had included a somewhat modified restraining order. Legally, Seungri couldn’t be within 30 feet of Yoongi without professional mediation. And, though you both knew the city police wouldn’t enforce it, Seungri had obeyed.

Until now.

He waved you off, all pretense of kindness having gone with the trial. “I’ll be gone in a minute. Just wanted to see if you knew anything about my hybrids.”

“You got a new one,” Yoongi noted, nodding at the fox hybrid.

“Well, I had to. All of mine seem to have run away.”

Yoongi almost choked on his breath, his grip on your hand tightening so much it almost hurt. “What?”

“Oh you don’t know? I thought maybe you orchestrated it. You always were the bad one of the bunch.” Seungri shrugged. “But then again, you were never smart enough to be the leader, so I really should have known.”

You had to hold your tongue. Nothing he said mattered now. He could talk shit all he wanted, it didn’t mean anything. Yoongi was safe. Seungri had no power over anything. He was just a sad, middle-aged man grasping at straws to make himself feel good.

He continued, brushing his salt-and-pepper hair out of his eyes. “No, the other four ran away a few months ago. The wolf’s doing, I’m assuming.” He leveled you with an unamused stare. “You didn’t convince them to betray me, did you?”

“Unfortunately, no,” you told Seungri honestly. “But if I come across them, I’ll be sure to do that.”

You tugged on Yoongi’s hand, pulling him in the direction of your car. Thankfully, he followed. Seungri watched in silence as you walked away, stepping back off the road as you pulled out of the parking garage and onto the street.

It wasn’t until you were blocks away that Yoongi let go of your hand. He had barely let you go to get in the car, and then immediately once you both were buckled in, he had latched on again. You didn’t mind, but you could feel his hand trembling as he clutched yours, leg bouncing restlessly as you drove.

“What do you think about getting away for the weekend?” you asked, turning onto your street.

Yoongi looked at you briefly before turning his attention back out the windshield, his copper eyes clouded with worry. For a moment, you didn’t think he would answer you. His bottom lip was between his teeth, chewing in thought.

“What if he finds us?” he finally asked, voice soft, hesitant.

It wasn’t entirely out of the realm of possibility. It seemed as though Seungri had eyes everywhere. As if he knew where you were at all times.

“We’ll go off the grid as much as we can.” You parked your car outside of your house, killing the engine. You made no moves to get out, distractedly playing with your keys instead. “We’ll rent a cabin in the woods somewhere. Just relax for the weekend. What do you think?”

“He won’t find us?”

“If he does, maybe we can feed him to a bear,” you joked.

“I’d feel bad for the bear.”

You hummed. “True. Poor thing would probably get indigestion.”

Yoongi laughed at that, and you smiled. You liked when you could bring him out of his anxiety, if only just a little.

“A weekend away sounds nice.” He squeezed your hand, and that was that.

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As always, your feedback is appreciated. Please feel free to pop into my ask box with questions or comments about the series!

[mysticalrambling]

Ending It All Part 1 (C.E)

Part 2

Chris Evans Fan fiction (Fan fiction Masterlist)

Summary: Chris wants to end your marriage and you decide to go along with it. You have to be civil for the sake of the kids but you are hurt. This process is too much for the both of you and eventually, it all ends.

Warnings: Angst all the way. 

._._._._._.

You had seen it coming from a mile. People say that a woman’s sixth sense is her greatest power. You always took pride in it but in this case, it was a curse. Chris and you have known each other for the past seven years and from those years, you were married for five. He was the love of your life. You thought it was forever but apparently you were wrong. You were wrong about so many things.

From the past six months, Chris has been home for a couple of days at most and then he was traveling. Traveling for work, for friends and whatnot. And for the days that he was here, he didn’t look at you like you were his wife, his soulmate. He looked at you like you were a stranger. Spending time with the kids was all he ever did and then came up with measly explanations to go off to bed early. There was no space left for you in his life. You thought that it was just a rough patch but that was not the case.

“(Y/N), we need to talk.” The determined look in his icy blue eyes said it all.

Taking a deep breath, you shakily replied, “Let me just put the kids to sleep.” Your energetic kids had tired out you for the whole day because you were off from work today. Chris had just come back from shooting and he didn’t give you a kiss like he usually did. In fact, he hadn’t kissed you like he meant it for several years now.

“I will be in the kitchen. You want wine?” He was walking away before you could even reply.

“Yeah, sure.” You mumbled out and you didn’t even know that he listened.

“Mommy, we are going to spend the whole day with you and daddy tomorrow?”  Mia and Jace have started to pick up on the fact that there was something going on between their parents. You wanted to keep all of this away from your four and two year old but it seems that you might have failed. You were failing at a lot of things right now.

“Yes, we will. Now, go to sleep.” It took you about half an hour to be put them to sleep and during that time, you were a wreck. There were a thousand possibilities running through your mind.

Coming back downstairs, Chris handed you the glass of wine, your favorite as always. He knew every little detail about you. “(Y/N), I don’t know how to say this but-”

“Before you finish that sentence, I just need to tell you that I promised the kids a day out tomorrow. Don’t ruin it.”

“I- I can’t say that.” Fiddling with his almost empty glass, he couldn’t bring it in himself to look at you. He was going to ruin this promise as well just like he was going to ruin everything.

“Just, go on.” You refilled the wine glass as you knew you needed the alcoholic haze to get through this conversation.

“I can’t do this anymore. This is just not what I want in my life anymore.” Your breath hitched and your heart broke into tiny little pieces.

Exact words were what you needed to hear right now. No vague statements. “What do you mean? What can’t you do?”

“This. This relationship. I think I am done. I am truly sorry, (Y/N).”

“Is- Is there someone else?” It was as if a ball was lodged in your throat and you couldn’t bring yourself to talk coherently. Fluently.

Chris looked at you, horrified. How could you even say that? He would never in a million years even think about cheating on you. Dignity was an important trait for Chris and if he ever cheated, he wouldn’t be able to look at himself. It hurt him that you would even consider this as a reason but he couldn’t blame you.

“No! This is not the reason. Not at all.” A defensive attitude was immediately taken up by your husband.

“Then is it me? Am I not enough for you?” Hot tears rolled down your cheeks but you didn’t have the energy to wipe them out.

“It is not you, darling. I just don’t think this is what I want with my life anymore. I want to solely focus on my career.”

“You are choosing your career over your family.” As the realization started to hit you, you couldn’t control the anger that took over you. “Over your family, Chris?”

“(Y/N) I am just done. I want an out and can we please try to be civil about this?” He pleaded.

“You want me to be civil about this? Fine.” You took a calming breath and closed your eyes for a second. “Just explain it to me. Maybe we can work something out.”

“I can’t- I don’t know how to explain it. Seven months ago I just woke up and I didn’t want to do this anymore. I want to start over.” A shocking chill passed through your body and you realized that it was hurt. You were betrayed.

“So you don’t want to do anything with me or the kids as well?”

“No. I want to be a part of their lives and-”

You looked him in the eyes and spoke in a broken voice, “It’s just me that you want out of your life.”

“Darling, no-” Chris tried to reach out for your hand but you placed them on your hands. He had lost the right to touch you from the moment he said that he didn’t want you. You were just a problem for him that needed to be solved.

There were years when he needed you every step of the way. Chris met you at a party that Scarlett threw. You were her best friend so you were invited to her New Year’s party. The moment he saw you, he was head over heels. He followed you around for two months to get you to go on a date with him. You used to tease him afterwards that he was a love sick puppy. But he was your love sick puppy.

That was not the case now and you didn’t know what you will do if he wasn’t in your life anymore. Your world revolved around your family but now it was all falling apart. You were falling apart.

“We can file for divorce tomorrow. Do you want to stay here tonight?” Wiping your tears, you got up from the stool and put the glasses in the sink.

“Uhh okay, okay. I can stay with Scott tonight.”

This was not what he expected. He expected you to cry, fight, scream. He thought there would be more discussion on this topic. Seven years were going to waste and you were treating this as a simple business transaction. Truth be told, you didn’t want him to see you fall apart. Chris had lost that right. If he didn’t want a life with you, then you were not going to beg him to stay. You were going to fulfill his wish and set him free.

“We have to take the kids out tomorrow. I was thinking the park.”

“What?” He was too distracted by everything to even realize what you were talking about.

“We will talk to them about the divorce tomorrow.”

“Isn’t this going a little too fast?”

“We should get this all over with as soon as possible. Goodbye, Chris.” Silently pecking him on his cheek, you went to your shared bedroom.

The moment your head touched the pillow, you were surrounded by his scent. The dam burst and you couldn’t stop the tears from running down your face and getting soaked up by the cushions. What were you going to do with your life now? You had to come up with a plan to manage the kids together with Chris. You had to think about getting a job that would accommodate your kids in to it now that you were going to be a single parent. You didn’t get a wink of sleep last night and you cried a lot.

On the other hand, Chris was not doing any better. Scott gave him the spare guest room to sleep in. He didn’t know what was going on between his brother and you but he knew it was serious. Chris couldn’t sleep last night either because he was not used to. This was the first time in seven years that you both were in the same city and you were not sleeping together. You wouldn’t be sleeping with him from now on. He has to get used to that idea. The idea of you not being there every step of the way because this was his own doing. He was dreading tomorrow as he was the one who was destroying his family.

“Hi. I was just here to pick you all up.” Guilt washed over him when he noticed your red puffy eyes and eye bags.

“You didn’t have to. We could have come there by ourselves.”

“We always go to the park together. It is our thing.”

“We can’t do all of these things now. Everything is going to change.”

“Right.” You moved towards the kitchen and he followed you like a lost puppy.

“Daddy!” Both kids ran up to him and clinged to his legs like two little monkeys.

“Hey babies.” He held on to them a little bit longer because he knew he was the one who was ruining their little lives.

“Where were you? Missed your pancakes. Mama doesn’t make good.” Mia hadn’t learned to make full sentences yet but Chris understood her perfectly.

“I was busy, baby. I- I-”

“Go get your shoes on. We are going to be late.” You saved him from the conversation because he looked like a deer caught in headlight. Chris couldn’t answer his daughter as this was how it was going to be. He wouldn’t be there for all of this. The important phases. Jace’s first soccer win, his first award, or Mia’s first school day, her first break up, her prom. He was going to miss most of them because you would be there with them while he will get them for weekends mostly.

“Let’s go.” Buckling his kids in, he sat in the driver’s seat. When he pulled out of the garage, his hand instinctively went for yours. It was out of pure instinct. You retracted your hand immediately and Chris just drew in a shaky breath, He was not allowed to touch you now.

“I am taking them to the swings. Do you want to come with?”

“No, I am just going to my usual spot to read my book.” There was a maple tree that had been your spot for the past five years. It was where you rested and caught up with your reading.

“Okay.”

The next hour was spent with Chris going on to every swing with his kids. He didn’t want to miss anything. Plus, he didn’t know how he could sit with you under the tree that held so many memories. You told him that you will marry him under this tree and that you were pregnant with Jace. It was all too much. You couldn’t focus on your reading when this might be the last time you get to see him with your kids. The last time you were together as husband and wife. This might be the last time because Chris wanted you out of his life.

“Hey, kids. We have to talk to you.” You finally gathered up some courage when they all came to sit beside you. Chris couldn’t bring himself to start up this conversation so he was glad that you did.

“Yeah, Mommy?”

“So you know how your friend Oliver’s parents don’t live together but they still love him very much.”

“Yeah.” Jace’s whole concentration was on his ice cream but he still nodded his head to indicate that he was listening. Mia was too young to comprehend it all so you mainly focused on your son.

“Well, Daddy and I are going to be doing the same thing. We love you both very much and we will always there be with you.”

“But Ollie’s daddy doesn’t live with him.” His blue eyes focused on the two of you when he made the statement.

“Yeah, buddy. I will be staying at an apartment really near by. You both can come whenever you want to.”

“You won’t be there to read us night stories or make our favorite brekky?” His question threw Chris off guard and he froze in his place.

“He will be there to do everything for you guys. Mia and you can go to daddy’s place and he can do all this.” You jumped in when you noticed that Chris didn’t know how to respond to all this. “Right, Chris?”

“Yes, that’s right. Nothing is going to change, buddy.” Wiping away his tears, your husband placed him on his lap with Mia.

“Promise?” Mia spoke up this time because she understood that her daddy wouldn’t live with her like he always did.

“Promise. Let’s go back to the house. You both look tired.”

You placed Mia on her bed while Chris did the same for Jace. They both were out the moment they were buckled in their car seats. Coming downstairs, you prepared coffee for Chris and yourself. He always liked his coffee black so that’s what you made for him. The cup was placed in front of him and he sighed because no one made coffee like you.

“Our lawyer said that he will have the papers delivered to us by tomorrow.”

“Okay, I saw this new apartment building when I was coming here this morning. I might rent it out. The penthouse has three rooms. One for the kids and one is the guest bedroom. You can stay there when you bring the kids over.” He looked at you with a defensive position.

“I won’t be staying at your apartment so please don’t take me into consideration.” You didn’t understand why he thought you would ever stay over at his place. You would never subject yourself to that kind of pain.

“But there can be special circumstances and my home will always be open for you, (Y/N). We can still be friends.” He was hoping against all hope that you would agree. He still wanted you in his life.

“I don’t think I can do that. Be friends. There is too much history. Let’s just keep it to the kids right now.” You picked on your nails because you didn’t want to cry like a little girl in front of him. “And I am going to change houses as well so do you want to sell this one?”

“Why do you have to move?” Chris was shocked to hear those words come out of your mouth.

“I can’t live in a house that was meant to be our family house. I just can’t.”

He understood where you were coming from but this house held too many memories. He couldn’t think of another family living here. Some couple living in your master bedroom, some kids running around in your children’s playground, some other family’s picture instead of yours. It was just too much to think about.

“Let’s just keep the house. When the kids grow up, they can have it.”

“Okay. I am tired right now so I am going to bed. I will sign the papers tomorrow and send them over to Scott’s.” You placed the empty mug on the counter and stood in a straight posture. “You want the kids this weekend?”

“Yes, I would like that. Do you want to maybe come with us?” He didn’t know why he was not ready to let you go yet. This was all his doing but he just couldn’t accept it right now.

“Umm no. I think we should settle the kids into this new routine.”

“I guess you are right.”

“Goodbye, Chris. I love you and I will always love you.” You regretted the words that came out of your mouth the instant you said them. You were so stupid but you just couldn’t help yourself. This was probably the last time you ever got to say it.

“I- I love you too, (Y/N). I will always be there for you. Goodbye, darling.” The lump in his throat seemed to grow bigger by the second but he had to say this. Lightly pecking you on the lips, he knew this was the last time he ever got to do this. He left afterwards and you couldn’t help but tear up. The same thing happened with Chris. This was it. Your marriage was over but your love would always be there.

Hope you guys liked it!!

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A/N: I literally cried while writing this fan fiction. This one is particularly close to my heart so please let me know what you think about it. If you want to be added to my tag list, message me. I am also open to requests for this series; requests, blurbs, anything.

P.S: There is a part 2 as well.

Tag list: @kalopsia-flaneur, @justile, @iguessweallcrazyithinktho, @jessyballet , @luckyladycreator2

Like, comment and reblog.

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[elysiadjarin]

Day 1: Somnophilia

Day 1 of Kinktober! The first prompt is of course, somnophilia. Here’s my masterlist for my Kinktober challenge.

Warnings: Minors DNI, this is 18+ only content. Consensual somnophilia, cumplay, unprotected sex, nonhuman character, exophilia

Tags: Hat Man x reader, exophilia, kinktober

He Comes at Night

At first, you hadn’t been sure whether it was just another case of sleep paralysis, or actually something… else.

He always came at night, standing in your doorway as you lay on your back, unable to move. Though you were used to sleep paralysis and the oftentimes terrifying figures that came along with it, this one had been different every time it showed up. It just stood in your doorway, never really moving, just watching. You never felt the usual fear that came along with most sleep paralysis demons, just a sense of… calm.

It had gotten to the point where you’d simply learned to ride it out, accepting the calm of its presence until you fell back asleep. If anything, you’d started feeling a sense of comfort from its presence. Even living alone, you felt as though it were there as another presence, just to keep you some company. You’d even thought with a flash of amusement that maybe it was there to protect you.

But that was until a few nights ago. You’d found yourself abruptly awake again, immobile in bed. But it had been different. Your eyes wouldn’t open, and you distinctly felt something heavy on your blankets, pinning you to the bed. It felt far more tangible than anything else you’d ever experienced in a moment of sleep paralysis, and it unnerved you.

Of course, that’s when you heard… that. A whisper, slithering around you, crawling against your sheets as tangibly as the weights.

Sssso delicioussss. A poke at you. He’ssss finally not here. Hey, are you… awake?

Despite the situation, it wasn’t so much fear as annoyance that gripped you in the moment. If this sleep paralysis demon was enacting paralysis on you, why would you be able to respond?

A low cackle raked down your spine. That’sssss right, you can’t move, can you. Well, you won’t need to, sssssoon. Don’t worry, the chilling voice sneered, I’ll make ssssure you can feel it.

You’d just started to feel the panic set in when the weight was ripped off of you. A loud, fearful shriek pierced through the room, followed by a distinct crunching and gurgling.

I didn’t mean to, Hat Man, have merccccccy— The voice choked off in the thick air, just as your eyes snapped open.

Thick, black slime dripped from the mangled, gangly body that hung limply in the air. The figure that had been standing in your doorway every night now stood by your beside, a giant arm outstretched as dark talons clenched around the smaller creature. The black ichor dripped from its claws, and it threw the broken body down on the floor like a rag doll. It turned its head toward you again, but relief had crashed through you at its appearance.

The tall figure, now that it had appeared so close to your bedside, clearly towered at least seven feet tall. But even when it bent its whole body over, face nearing yours, you still didn’t fear it. It had leaned over, close enough that you could imagine that you felt its nonexistent breath on your face. Then it brushed against your forehead, as though it had kissed you gently back to sleep. You’d fallen back asleep as though knocked out.

And now, as you stood at your kitchen counter, holding a mug of tea, your mind had started to wander. Specifically, you’d started to wonder about your mysterious guardian. What had started out as a private sort of joke had turned into a reality, and you weren’t entirely sure what to make of it. The sensations and feelings had been far too concrete to be just a hallucination or just part of another sleep paralysis experience. Even now, you could still feel the sensation of the soft, gentle wisp of shadow brushing across your forehead.

Sighing, you dumped the mug into the sink and headed for bed, pulling at the hem of your large T-shirt. In the room, you slid off your shorts and put them on a chair, only in your underwear and shirt to sleep. Sitting on the edge of the bed, you took a moment to glance around the room. Your mind wandered to the weird, creepy spirit from the night before.

Tentatively, you decided to speak into the darkness. “Hey… I don’t know if you’re here right now, or—or listening, but… Hat Man. If you’re there, thank you. For saving me,” you said, tugging at your shirt. “I know I usually can’t move or talk, but… if you want company, you can come sit or lay down.” A little embarrassed at your own offer, you flopped back on the bed and rolled under the covers, burying your face in your pillow.

Even if it — he? — were there listening and you weren’t just talking to thin air, what would he think of your invitation? Was that too forward? Or weird?

You weren’t sure when exactly you fell asleep, but you certainly jerked awake sometime later when the bed next to you dipped. Your eyes opened, this time, and you saw the hulking figure almost meekly slide into bed beside you. His weight made your body slightly tip towards him, and he shifted to face you just in time to catch you against his chest. You noticed, now fully pressed against him, that he did have a slight, dusky sort of warmth, like the faint touch of a sunbeam filtering though curtains.

His giant talon paused, and he seemed to vacillate, as though unsure what to do with himself now that he was there. Tentatively, his fingers brushed against your arm. Your body seemed to gain a little bit more movement, just enough for you to sigh and lean further into his chest. He made you feel safe, and his presence was comforting. He didn’t seem to mind your advances, so you decided not to feel guilty as his giant arm wrapped around your back.

A soft, wispy hum escaped you, and you let yourself relax with the minimal movements the paralysis seemed to be allowing. You half-wished you could talk, just to speak with him. But at the same time, you could feel the drowsiness descend again. He felt too comfortable, and the solid weight of his body against yours made you melt like putty into the bed.

As you fell asleep, you swore you could feel the Hat Man brush another soft kiss to your forehead.

~

“Whoa, wait, you got yourself a Hat Man?” Your Tiefling coworker gave you a surprised look. “They usually only come into your life because they’re drawn in some way to protect you. Have you been doing okay? Staying safe?”

You nodded. “Well, I mean, now I am thanks to him,” you clarified, eyebrows furrowing. “What with my sleep paralysis and that weird… other thing.” You shuddered a little in disgust at the memory. “He’s been protecting me from whatever that thing was, I’m assuming.”

Harlow gave you a long look. “I didn’t want to really bring this up before, but do you know of anything in your heritage that might be… well, attractive to spirits? I’ve noticed before that you seem to draw the attention of non humans.”

You sighed, shoulders slumping. “Well, you’re not wrong,” you admitted, rubbing your arm. “When I was born, my grandmother told my parents that I had ‘the blood of a beacon,’” you said. “I had a talisman she gave me, but… it’s been years, so maybe the potency has worn off.”

He nodded. “Probably. Especially if you have beacon blood; I’m not surprised you drew a Hat Man to protect you. You might as well be the Ultimate Desire for them,” he remarked.

Your eyes widened at his comment. “Ultimate Desire?” you asked, startled. “I mean, I know that my blood is attractive to spirits for its potency in spirit energy. But what does Ultimate Desire mean? And why would Hat Man want that?” You noted that he called it a Hat Man. So it apparently was a type of spirit or entity.

“Hmm.” Harlow pursed his lips. “Well, an easy way to put it would be… the Hat Men are guardians of sources of energy like you. They’re fueled by the energy you have, so… it wouldn’t be inaccurate to say that he’s a personal bodyguard manifested by your beacon blood. The more your proximity or attention ‘fuels’ him and the more energy you give him, the stronger he’ll be and the better defense.”

You nodded thoughtfully. “Huh. So I’m basically… the ultimate source, I guess. I mean, for Hat Man.”

“Yep!” Then he gave you a sly grin. “So, you gonna get up close and personal with him?” His eyebrows wriggled at you teasingly.

Flushing, you reached over and shoved his shoulder. “Harlow, seriously!” you groaned.

He laughed, rubbing his arm exaggeratedly. “Aww c’mon, I’m just saying. He’s basically the one least likely to betray you. In other words, the safest way to get laid—“

You flounced off, leaving him to laugh and try to wheedle his way back into your good graces. Still, your mind wouldn’t stop wandering to the Hat Man. Wondered how much safer you’d feel if he decided to be just a little more handsy…

Whacking your face with your binder, you shook your head and scolded yourself. Really, Harlow must be influencing you more than you expected.

~

You slumped against the counter, groaning.

Maybe Harlow really had gotten to you, more than you’d really anticipated at first. His words kept ringing through your mind, leading to thought trains that you hadn’t really anticipated.

He’s a personal bodyguard… The more your proximity or attention ‘fuels him’ and the more energy you give him… He’s basically the one least likely to betray you.

With a defeated sigh, you picked yourself up and dragged yourself to your room. You’d wanted to go to bed early, for more reasons than you’d care to admit to yourself. Still, even as you turned the lights off and went to go change, you wondered if he would return tonight. If he’d still join you. If he’d stay.

Tugging at the T-shirt you’d slid on, you hesitated for only a moment before sliding your underwear off. Tossing it aside, you slid into bed, rolling onto your side and staring at the empty space across from you. Reaching out, you smoothed your hand against the sheets.

“I wish you were here, Hat Man,” you whispered into the quiet darkness.

To your surprise, your body almost instantly froze. A dark shape walked into view by the side of the bed, and the now-familiar talons lifted the sheets to slide into bed beside you. You vaguely wondered if the sleep paralysis the whole time had just been the spirits and now your Hat Man having an effect on you thanks to the lure of your blood.

Before you could think too much about it, though, the burly figure slid closer. Still, he didn’t hold you like he had before, and a pang of disappointment rushed through you. His arm lifted, then he seemed to hesitate.

Your body loosened a little, giving you that smidgen of movement you’d been granted last time. Without even a moment of thought, you rolled forward and snuggled into his chest again, the dusky warmth of his body soaking into you again. You sighed, gazing at the lines of his chest and the slashed scars that crossed the dark planes. Almost thoughtlessly, you traced your fingers against the edges of the scars.

You wondered how he’d gotten them. Were you the reason? Because he protected you? A pang of guilt ran through you for a moment.

He shifted, finally putting his arm around you again, as though he’d been waiting for the permission. His head bent a little, and he carefully seemed to nuzzle your hair, as though checking on you.

A little sleepy, you glanced up at him, noting the curve of his jaw. “Hi,” you breathed, your murmur quiet and wispy. Still, he pulled back and seemed to observe you curiously. His eyes, you finally noticed, had a faint sort of pale blue glow, dim in the darkness and only obvious from how close you were.

“Thank you,” you whispered, every word an effort. “For— this—“ Your fingers slipped across the lurid scars on his chest, your eyes starting to slide closed. But you fought it for a moment, determined to just… thank him. Properly. Mustering as much energy as you could, you sluggishly forced yourself up a little, just enough to brush your lips against his chin, the closest part of his face you could reach.

The talons tightened briefly against your waist, as though they’d convulsed in surprise. He seemed to freeze in front of you, processing what you’d just done.

You let out a sleepy hum, the drowsiness descending on you far faster than you would have liked. You wanted to talk with him. You wondered if he had a voice.

~

Harlow took one look at you. “Ohhh, someone’s sexually frustrated.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “I can’t— Harlow,” you whined, feeling your entire face heat up.

He leaned against your desk with a sympathetic grin. “Look, if I call you out it’s only because I’m in the same boat or I’m about to help you. In this case both applies. Anyway, so, spill the tea.” He tilted his head, his polished horns gleaming under the office lights.

You sighed, then confessed everything to him. From the way you’d started feeling about your Hat Man to the way you’d started to… fantasize. Frustrated, you ran your fingers through your hair.

“I just… I don’t know if it’s because I’m lonely and he’s there, or if I— I don’t even know,” you sighed, closing your eyes in defeat. “I just don’t know.”

He chuckled, reaching over to pat your arm. “Look, like I said, Hat Men are there for protection. And by the sounds of it, yours is actually attracted to you. Spirits and entities like him don’t actively search for contact like that if they’re not interested in it.” He pursed his lips. “Not to mention, if you do actually get some— how big is he?”

You gave him a half-hearted glare. “Harlow—“

He snickered. “How tall is he. Seriously, you’re the one with the dirty mind here.” He flashed you that infuriating smirk as he teased you.

You rolled your eyes, giving up. “I don’t know, probably around seven feet? It felt like it, anyway, when he was standing beside the bed.”

“Oh so he’s stacked.” Harlow cackled. “But really, as I was saying, if you do bag that one, it’s quite the mutual benefit. It’ll be a direct method of energy transfer, not to mention that he’s absolutely probably going to be loyal to you if he gets those kinds of privileges.” He shrugged flippantly. “But that’s besides the point. Here’s what I’m going to suggest, so take this as you will.”

You left work that evening with your face burning but a solid plan from Harlow. You’d figure out later if you wanted to smack him or thank him.

~

That night, as you crawled into bed, you let out a breath and sat there, clutching the blankets. Biting your lip, you glanced toward the door.

“I hope you’ll join me again, tonight,” you ventured, calling out into the darkness of your room. Swallowing, you twisted the sheets in your fingers. “And… of course, you don’t have to, but… I’d love to be able to… to talk to you. Or— or hear more about you. If you can or want to communicate. I just…” You sighed.

“I don’t know if I have to not move when you’re around. I’m not sure how that works, but either way, I— I like having you around,” you admitted. “So… thank you. For protecting me. I hope you stay. You’re welcome to make yourself at home, here.” Taking one last glance at the door, you turned over and lay down. You self-consciously rubbed your legs together, almost embarrassed by your lack of clothing besides the T-shirt.

Would it be too obvious? Was it too much? Or maybe would that be enough-?

The bed behind you dipped just as you felt yourself seized by the paralysis again. But this time, it already felt minimal, as though the tight hold had been laxed even more than before. You rolled back, feeling your back hit the warmth of his chest. Every night, it seemed that he gained a little more solidity and form, and even more of a distinct body heat. The large arm wrapped around you again, sliding across your side and down your belly, talons slipping under your waist.

You hummed, the calm and contentment washing over you again with his presence. “Hi,” you murmured, your fingers managing to curl around one of his talons.

This time, to your mingled surprise and delight, you felt the soft huff of air against your neck like breath. It wasn’t really a sound, but it was something a little more. His face nudged against your neck and shoulder, while his lower body curled up as though to surround you as much as possible. Your heart pounded, almost giddy with the happiness that rushed through you.

“Missed you,” you breathed, your words less slurred than before. You weren’t fighting the sleepiness as hard tonight, and you wondered if it really was an effect that your Hat Man had on you or if it was something else. Still, you relished it.

His movements behind you paused, and you panicked for a split second, wondering if you’d scared him away. But then he nuzzled against you again, another huff washing over your neck. In the next moment, you heard a soft, rumbling growl, so deep that you almost wondered if you’d imagined it. The moment you heard it, your breath hitched. Your stomach clenched at the sound, heat pooling between your legs.

Your teeth sank into your lower lip helplessly, your entire body both aching and on fire where he touched you, held you. Chest heaving with a burning breath, you tried to control your reaction, suppressing your shiver. You didn’t want him to leave. Wanted him to stay.

Like a whisper, words bloomed in your mind, so softly that it took you a moment to realize you didn’t hear them aloud. So pretty. So soft, so kind. The deep voice, laced with a soft Brooklyn accent, took you off guard as it slithered through your mind.

Your back arched slightly, heat splashing across your cheeks. Before you could quite stop yourself, the way you arched made your ass press back against him. A soft gasp wrenched from your lips as you felt something distinctly hard and thick press back against you. It twitched slightly, and you could feel something damp soak into your T-shirt, smearing against your skin.

A low grunt sounded behind you, just as his hips jerked away. Abruptly, his body started to slide away from you, as though he were going to leave.

The desperation flashed through you, and you found yourself suddenly free to move. You rolled over, hand reaching out.

The both of you completely froze. Your eyes, wide open, riveted on his, your fingers splayed across the scars on his chest. His blue eyes, dim but clearly focused on your face as his chest heaved under your hand.

“Please,” it spilled from your lips, quiet and desperate in the silence. “Don’t leave.”

After a moment, he gingerly lifted his hand and reached for your face, talons barely brushing across your cheek. The whisper floated through your mind again. Sorry… The embarrassment was clear in his voice, and a pale blue flush spread over the area of his cheeks. For some reason, it made him even more endearing.

“You don’t have to be,” you whispered back, sure that your own cheeks were flushed with arousal and embarrassment.

He drew closer again, as though he couldn’t help himself. His face neared yours. So pretty. So warm. Sweet. The murmur was followed by the revealing of his mouth. A maw that split open the dark silhouette, black tongue sliding over sharp fangs. Wouldn’t want ta take advantage, sweetheart. Your acceptance of his advances seemed to embolden him. Don’t wanna be too greedy.

You swallowed. “I… I want you to.” Your breath quickened a little, glancing down at his maw. “You can… I— I want you to have my energy,” you offered shyly.

The eyes flared, trailing down your body. Want you. Soft. Sweet. Pretty. He seemed fixated on the description, repeating them again. Still, you couldn’t help but find yourself liking his attention.

“You can have me. Whenever.” You bit your lip briefly. “Even if I’m asleep, if you need energy… if you— if you want.”

His breath washed over your cheek as he bent closer than ever before. Kind. His telepathic voice washed over you, saturated with adoration. Kind to Varen. His tongue gently swiped over your cheek.

You half-whimpered. “Kiss?” you pleaded, desperate for more contact.

His mouth slid across yours, gentle and without a hint of teeth. His tongue flickered over your lips, and you welcomed it. His tongue slid across yours, lithe and gentle. His talons wrapped around your waist again, pulling you into his chest. His name slipped from your lips, soft and needy, and he responded instantly in the way his body shifted closer, half-pinning you under him. His lips slid across yours, trailing down your cheek, your jaw, your throat.

To your frustration, you could feel yourself getting almost unbearably sleepy, the drowsiness tugging at you again. You suddenly wondered if it had to do with him drawing on your energy, feeding off of it, but in the next moment you were completely distracted by the way he gently rutted against your thigh.

Despite your best efforts, you fell asleep.

You dreamed.

Dreamed of Varen, mostly, your mind fantasizing about his claws wrapping around you, pushing you further into the bed, hands wandering further. Of him sliding your T-shirt up, tangling his talons around it, using it as leverage to keep your body still as he slid his cock between your thighs. You swore you could feel it, could feel his talons pricking faintly against your skin as he rutted between your thighs, his tongue dragging over your shoulder and up the arch of your neck.

You could even feel the way his precum started dribbling down your skin, smearing across your thighs, mingling with your own wetness, coating his cock as he slid it against you. And then his cock angling up, just as his talons tightened around your hips and pulled you down against him. His tip slid into you, just as his breath washed over your shoulder.

You woke up as Varen’s maw closed over your shoulder and he pulled you all the way down onto him. Still groggy and half-disoriented from waking up, you could only let out a strangled whine and arch your back, unwittingly pressing yourself further against him. The insistent throb of him inside you and the way your body clenchedaround him was proof that it wasn’t just a dream.

You were still groggy, whimpers spilling from your lips as you lay there pliantly, not resisting anything he was doing. You stayed half-asleep, already blissed out just by the sensation of him filling you.

So good. His soft accent curled through your frazzled mind, satisfied and soothing. So pretty. Doing so good, sweetheart. It’s okay, you don’t have to do anything. Gonna take care of you, pretty.

The knot in your core kept tightening, coiling with every gentle thrust he made, his hips fairly rolling against you. He shifted behind you, his claws gentle but decisive as he rolled you onto your stomach. His body followed, pinning you under him as his legs tangled with yours and his talons around your hips held you in place. He mouthed your shoulder, just barely pricking you with his fangs as his tongue soothed over the soft bites.

Your eyelashes barely fluttered, your body bathed in the dusky heat of pleasure. Despite being half-asleep, the way he steadily pumped in and out of you was so careful, so gentle. You already felt entirely wrecked, tears slipping down your cheeks as you whined. The angle and the way he curled up inside you kept hitting that one spot that sent stars flashing behind your eyelids every time he thrust. Your fingers clenched in the pillow, body trembling. You were so close.

Pretty little thing. Varen cooed, infatuation saturating every word, every thrust into you. Being so good. So… close… The soft, deep growl rumbled through his chest and down into you as well.

The tight coil inside you burst, like a coiled spring. The dusky heat washed through your body in a wave of pleasure, your orgasm roiling through you with a steady but undeniable strength. Varen fucked you through it, extending your orgasm as you trembled and sobbed out his name. He never let go of you, whispering your name as he kissed your throat and praised you softly.

It wasn’t until you’d come down that he came, jerking against you and letting out a low moan. His hips pressed flush against yours, his seed spilling into you with a rush of warmth that settled in you, soaking into the rest of your body. You basked in it, utterly spent and satisfied in a way you couldn’t remember ever being before.

Vaguely, you felt Varen roll back onto his side, pulling you along with him. Though he didn’t pull out of you, he still nuzzled against your neck and curled around you, pulling you flush against him.

You fell back asleep to the sensation of warmth and comfort.

When you woke up the next morning, Varen was gone. The only proof you had of last night was a small smear of faint blue on your inner thigh and the feeling of warmth still pooling in your belly, like a kernel of heat. With a smile, you looked up at the doorway again.

“Thank you, Varen,” you said softly. “I’ll see you tonight.”

The only answer you received was a small flash of blue that flickered in the doorway.

~ Bonus! ~

Harlow took one look at you as you walked into work before letting out a whoop. “Heck yeah, bestie got laid!” He laughed, hugging you.

You couldn’t even bring yourself to be annoyed at him, though you shook your head with a sigh. “Thanks for your advice, Harl,” you said, smiling.

He grinned, throwing his arm around your shoulders. “Course, what are best friends for? Best wingman award who?” he cackled. “Anyway, tell me the dirty details. Oh, should we go celebrate?”

You shook your head. “Never change, Harl. Never change.”

[roger-that-cap]

wildest dreams

witch!wanda x reincarnated!reader 

summary: wanda had walked around the earth for centuries with no magic and hardly any soul left after losing her soulmate. she thought that her lover would never return and that the only reunion they would have would be in the afterlife, but a run-in with bucky changes everything after he insists that he met the long gone y/n at a fountain in the park. 

yet another au by me... 

word count: around 6.5k?

imma tag one person bc she gets upset when she isn’t tagged- and idk if anyone else would actually be interested?

@teenwonder

also this picture is not mine, and the dividers are by @firefly-graphics !!

without further ado, it’s almost 6 in the morning but i give you this!!

She held you tight, fingers digging into your skin as she trembled above you. The rose bushes were rustling in the wind next to you both, the sweet smell of the flowers contrasting with the moment. You were halfway gone already, eyes far off but trying to swim back to the surface, wanting to look at her one last time before the inevitable happened. 

  “S…” you tried to say, but she hushed you immediately, tears falling down on your face and mixing with your own. You shook her head at her as hard as you could, begging for her to let you continue. “Say you’ll remember me,” you ground out, fingers tightening around her hand. 

  “What?” Wanda asked, voice already thick with grief as she tried to decide whether or not it was better to keep the knife lodged between your ribs inside of you.

“When I come back-” you cut yourself off by coughing up blood, and Wanda didn’t even wince when it splattered on her cheek. “Back for you, promise that you’ll remember me.” 

 “Darling,” Wanda whispered back, her voice cracking as she bent over and rested her head on your stomach for a moment, hiding her sob. She could feel her magic tingling inside of her; under her skin, in her bones, dancing on her fingertips. “I wish I knew- I wish I just knew how-”

  “Please.” You said, a desperate look in your eyes as you halted her words, already knowing what Wanda wanted. But natural magic was nothing to mess with. She sobbed again with her lips pressed together, no sound escaping her. You squeezed her hand tighter as the sun started on its routine descent, basking the two of you in an orange glow that you would have stopped to admire in any other moment in time. But Wanda would grow to hate that shade of orange with every breath in her. “Please.” It would always remind her of the sound of your begging, voice reaching for something that she couldn’t see. 

Maybe it was the desperation in your voice, or the way that she just knew that you were well within your last moments, because she looked up at you one last time. “Of course I’ll remember you, darling. I couldn’t even dream of forgetting you.” There was a wheezing sound that came from your chest as you cracked a bloody smile, and then you gave one last squeeze before you looked away from her, your soul settling in the afterlife. 

  Wanda Maximoff would never forget it. Suddenly, her previously  irrational fear of losing her magic became real, but that feeling didn’t even come close to the one she got when you grew lifeless in her arms. 

Ever since you knew what a normal person was supposed to be like, you had identified that you, in fact, were not the normal person that you were probably supposed to be. Normal people didn’t daydream to the point where it felt like their bodies weren’t in the present anymore. Normal people didn’t have birthmarks under their ribs that aced and burned. Normal people didn’t feel out of touch with their world, like they weren’t even meant to be in the century they were in. Normal people didn’t feel like they were searching for something tirelessly, something just under their noses. And normal people surely didn’t dream of the same set of hands, same pair of eyes, or the same voice over and over again, a new setting every time, but always the same, faceless person. You either drew the same faceless person or rose bushes, and every sketch book you ever had was full of them. 

At first, you were sure that you were going insane. Every time you closed your eyes, you would see a flash of reddish brown hair, or the same set of eyes, or the same pair of pale hands. You kept seeing this person without ever seeing a face for nights at a time before you went to see a therapist, who just ended up telling you that worrying about it was only going to make it worse, whatever it even was. But eventually, you learned to get used to it. 

Acceptance turned into expectancy. You went to sleep knowing that there was going to be a pair of hands accompanied by the same slender fingers as always before you, sometimes intertwined with your own. You knew that there was going to be a set of eyes on you, watching you intently with no ace to go with them. You knew that you would hear whispers of the same voice, speaking so clearly in a language you didn’t even come close to understanding, and soon, you were craving to see and hear those things. And wanting to see them led to something that you never told your therapist; drawings. 

You drew nearly every day under the sky, trying to find different park benches to see the sun rise and set at different angles for inspiration. You loved the sky, moon and stars alike, but there was something special about sunrises and sunsets. Sunrises and sets both meant new beginnings to you, out with the old and in with the new, and each rise and fall filled you with a strange feeling of nostalgia. You were watching the sunset on a park bench by yourself, a sketchbook sitting on your lap as you held an idle pencil, still thinking about the way you wanted to draw the hands. The birthmark between your ribs started to tingle, letting you know that it was about to burn again. That damn birthmark. You dropped the pencil and scratched at it, trying to beat the annoying feeling at its own game. You cursed the mark, but your eyes didn’t leave the sky, and you noticed your heart swelling in your chest, faint despair in the pits of it, churning around like the middle of the deep sea. 

 You shook your head and put your pencil in your hand again, brain not even having to work hard at all to see the features of the faceless person who was in your every dream. 

Even before she ever met you, Wanda didn’t sleep well. She would toss and turn for at least an hour before she finally found some temporary, flimsy form of peace. Her sleep was always light and she hardly ever had dreams, which was customary for a woman like her at the time- an un-blossomed witch. 

It was hard for her to remember the time where she didn’t have magic, but that time certainly existed. It lasted nearly thirty years. She never aged a day past twenty one, time moving past her without a care in the world. She was stuck right there, no magic except for the little bit in her bones that was keeping her young. And then she met you. 

You were the person that kicked her magic into gear. You were her kindred soul, her other half and the power to her magic. Meeting you had flung her right into the world of magic and spells, things that she only watched others do, but even as she was introduced to an entirely different world, she could remember only really wanting you. Her heart and soul called to you far louder and stronger than spells called to her eager mind. When she met you, it all fell into place. It was an easy love, one that was never going to be disputed or questioned, and loved it. She was prepared to move heaven, earth, and the gods for you, if she had to. Your arrival into her life had caused her to finally blossom. 

But now, she had bloomed and flourished and wilted all the same, and she was just waiting to decompose. 

“Have hope,” was all that Bucky, a warlock who had been tortured enough in his own way, would tell her. “Have hope that something good will come to you, and it will.” 

She never had the heart to tell him that good things hardly came to those who waited. He himself was a product of waiting, and it had served him well. Before he met his other half, he was taken by a rival clan and experimented on with spells that were so far past illegal that they made the casual witch shudder. Eventually, he was broken out and the rival clan was defeated, but he returned to them as an empty shell of a man. But then, Steve came, and then the man was nothing but a ball of light. His magic grew to be strong and so did Steve’s, and together they became known as some of the strongest practitioners of magic in the world. 

 But what did Wanda have to hope for when you were gone? What did she have to wake up for and smile at when she knew that she had buried you hundreds of years ago? It wasn’t even about the magic. She couldn’t care less about the way she felt the energy leave her- and it was dramatic- leaving in a singular burst of light the second you left. She only knew that you were gone, and that was the only thing that mattered, and it seemed to be the only thing that she even really felt. 

Well, she did feel one other thing. Exhaustion. Exhaustion caused by the lack of you by her side. And exhaustion was exactly why she assumed that she was hallucinating when she felt a small tug at her heart, in a part of her brain that had been dormant for years and years. She shook her head and tried to take her thoughts away from you and the nagging feeling in her gut. 

“Oh, no…” you exclaimed, voice tapering out into a whine as you watched the ruined paper sink deeper and deeper into the fountain, a fist clenching at your side in disappointment when you realized how many hours were lost, just like that, and then even tighter when you realized that part of you wasn’t even truly upset about the time spent on the ruined art. You were mostly upset that you lost the only vision of the hands that you had during the daytime. 

You were on your knees, sleeves still all the way down as you reached into the water frantically, causing the paper to move even further away. You weren’t even worried about your sketchbook that had fallen open onto the pavement, more focused on the rapidly deteriorating piece of paper. You hardly even noticed the man who knocked into you talking, trying his hardest to make the situation better. “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, is there anything I can do?” 

“I mean,” you breathed out, taking the nearly disintegrated paper from the water and grimacing. When you realized that the man was fumbling to say something from behind you, celery apprehensive over the fact that you were upset, you took a short breath and turned around, giving him a small smile. He had dark brown hair that was cut short and crystal blue eyes that were striking, but you knew that they held thousands of stories by looking just once.  He was holding your sketchbook, and by the way he was gripping it tightly, you could tell that he had flipped through it for a second. “It’s just a drawing. I guess I can make another one.” 

  His eyes widened. You saw his jaw slacken and his neck stretch out, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He blinked three times, and his parted lips trembled for a second before he slammed them shut. You cocked a brow at him, your sadness about losing the drawing being replaced by a weak feeling of uneasiness. “Sir?” 

  “Knew it.” His face was clear from any type of emotion as he watched yours, and when you opened your mouth to ask him if he was okay, a grin spread across his face. “I’m Bucky, what’s your name?” You furrowed your brows at him, asking what the hell had just occurred without saying a single word. “I’m sorry, you just looked really familiar.” 

 Just like that, you smiled. You knew that feeling, you felt like you got deja vu far too often to be normal. You hated when people made you feel strange for it, you always had, so you tried your best to ignore it with him. “You’re fine, don’t worry. I’m Y/N.” You extended your dry hand for him to shake it. He stared at it for a moment, and then with an eagerness that made you smile, he shook your hand. 

“‘I’m Bucky.” 

  For a moment, you could have sworn that you had done more tha just seen him before. Could have sworn that you had shaken his hand, met him before, been at the receiving end of his blinding yet somewhat shy smile. It flashed through you warm and bright, and you cleared your throat before pulling your hand away and realizing you had held it for too long. You cleared it again when you saw something flash in his eyes, a weak smile lifting on your lips.

“It’s not her.” 

Wanda was furious. She was insulted more than anything, really, angry that Bucky could even mistake the light of you for someone else. She knew that you would never grace the earth with your presence again, and she was so used to the fact that she was going to have to die before seeing you again. And for one of her closest friends to try to convince her that you were back? 

 “She would have already found me.” And Wanda believed that with her whole heart. You had asked her so long ago that you remember her, like she could ever forget. Your scent was so flowery that whenever she walked past a growing garden that she smelled you, your smile was so bright that she saw it in the way the rays of sun came down on the earth. She heard your laugh in the chirping of the birds every morning, and she saw your playfulness in the running waters of the stream by the cabin. She could never forget you, because everything was traced back to you. And you would never return without finding her. 

“I don’t think she even knows it yet, but she is looking for you.” Bucky insisted, stepping forward and receiving Wanda’s burning glare while Steve stepped to the side and let it happen. “I bumped into her and she dropped her sketchbook. I saw her drawings- she drew your eyes.” 

  Wanda’s heart skipped a beat. “What?” 

“She dropped the drawing of hands in the water, but I saw she had drawn eyes that looked just like yours, hair the same shade as yours, even drawn the necklace you used to wear. She draws roses, too. I swear to everything above, it’s her.” 

She could feel herself getting warm, the sort of emotions stirring inside of her that had the potential to turn into a singular weapon. The thought of a rose bush made her sick to her stomach. “It’s not her.” 

“You forget that I knew her, too,” Bucky stated, and Wanda’s desolation was replaced by some ancient feeling of possessiveness. “I could never forget her face, and that was it right there. That was her face, without a shadow of a doubt, And her voice-” 

Wanda’s face curled into a snarl. “Stop talking about her.”  

“Hey, Wanda, take a deep breath,” Steve cut in, ever the mediator, but Bucky was hardheaded. If he thought something needed to happen, he was the one to push for it to happen, and he needed her to see. 

 “She looks the same as she did the day she left.” Wanda let out a choked noise. For a second, all she could picture was her lover dying by the blooming rose bushes in the sunset, ruining two of the most beautiful things in life at once. The third (but first) was you, but not even your horrible death could taint Wanda’s memory of you. You would forever be the brightest and most beautiful thing to grace the earth. “I got her number, we’re meeting at a coffee shop a few blocks away.” 

“Leave her alone.” Wanda said through gritted teeth, tears welling up in her eyes. When she saw the brunet’s eyes widen and his mouth drop open, she spoke before he could get a word in. “Just stay away from her, Bucky.” 

All she could think about was your death. The way you choked on your own blood. The way you cried and looked up at her, but still managed to smile. And as she was consumed by rage and memories, the only other thought in her mind was that she was yours and you were here, and that she couldn’t save you then. But she was surely going to preserve your memory from Bucky’s mouth. 

  “I know you feel it coming back. You haven’t felt it in so long, but it’s warm, right? It’s powerful. You always were the strongest, and you’re not dormant any longer. Stop lying to yourself and depriving yourself of love, Wanda. You know Y/N-”

  She saw red. Red as red as the fires that burned in the magma underneath the ground, as red as embers in a fire. “You don’t get to say her name.” She saw so much red, so much hot anger that hardly covered her sadness, that she didn’t even see the way that she had her hand out red coming from her palm as she lifted Bucky right off of the wooden floor of their shared home. “You don’t get to talk about her.” There was a warbling noise in her ears, whispers that sounded like her name, getting louder and louder until she finally realized it was Steve trying to get her attention. 

  “Wanda.” 

Instantly, she dropped her arm and watched Bucky fall to the ground, landing in a crouched position. She watched him catch his breath on the ground. She opened her mouth to apologize, to say that she felt terrible and that she had no idea what happened, what took over her, but she was stopped by the brilliant smile that came onto Bucky’s face. 

  “You used magic.” He said, slowly and steadily, not a hint of hesitance or animosity in his eyes or voice. Instead, he seemed more proud than anything. “You can’t deny this now, Wanda.” 

She was hyperventilating, the pain in her chest intensifying as she tried without any results to get the right amount of air in her lungs. She felt her knees hit the ground before she knew that she did, her hands covering her face as she sobbed into herself. Her heart ached, tugging in so many different directions as her brain fought to rationalize what everything meant. She had used magic,  and that meant that you were back, in one way or another. She was in disbelief. She was in despair. She was in shock. 

“I know you do, I know you do,” It was Steve’s arms around her, and Steve’s voice in her ear, and she realized that she had been saying I miss her, I miss her, over and over again until the words jumbled. “We know you do, Wanda. We miss her too.” 

But he didn’t understand. He hadn’t lost Bucky since he had found him. He hadn’t walked the earth for centuries after losing the only thing that mattered to him as an empty shell of the person he used to be. He would never understand, but that wasn’t his fault. In fact, she prayed that he would never understand. 

“I’m sorry I approached you like that,” Bucky said, crouching down and hugging her just as Steve was, enclosing her into a hugging circle. They were coven, related by magic, and just being around them made her tears subside. “But you know that I would have never said anything like that unless I was one thousand percent sure. I would never do anything to hurt you, Wanda. All I want is for you to be happy. And I know that I found her.” 

And how could he want anything but the best for her? He knew her just as much as Steve did. Just as much as she probably knew herself. He and Steve were the ones who stormed the coven that took you from her by her side, and they were the ones that helped her send them to their graves. They supported her through thick and thin, through revenge and peace, and mostly, they loved you almost as much as she did. Why would Bucky lie? 

Wanda blinked, staring down at her hands in fear and wonder as her heart beat started to get away from her. Steve’s warm hand landed on her shoulder, and she flinched from the sudden touch after such a rush of power. 

“I think you should go with him, Wanda.” Her heavy breathing was all that filled the air for a moment. “Just take a look at her from outside so you can leave if he was wrong without anyone knowing, but you should at least try. I think Buck’s right.” 

Wanda’s breaths were still labored. Her hands trembled as she moved hair from her eyes, and her lip quivered before she found the strength to mutter a few words. “Will she- will she remember?” 

“I think she will,” Steve said softly. “But she’s probably just a human. It may take more than just seeing you for her to remember everything.” 

 Her eyes were wet with tears, and her heart was so big with warmth and need that she was scared that it would burst open at the seams. But she was even more terrified to lose the idea of you. Slowly and shakily, she nodded, her head bobbing up and down as she sealed her own fate. “I’ll go.” She saw Steve give her his fatherly and supportive smile, small yet full. “I’ll see her.” 

You didn’t know how you were gently swindled into giving Bucky your number. You knew that it was nothing but friendly, but he was so charming that you felt like you could never not know him. In fact, it felt like you already did know him. He said something about maybe commissioning an artwork of yours, and of course that excited you. You were going to meet him at a coffee shop, in a public place even though you weren’t the slightest bit afraid of him. But something felt different. 

 It started once you got into your car. You were driving to get to the shop when tingles came down your spine, and bumps raised on your arms, like someone was whispering against your skin. You started to feel warmth come and go in waves, brushing against your mind and then retreating again. You shook off all of the strong feelings as you turned your car off, parked in front of the coffee shop while the music from your speakers filled the silence, soft piano music that was perfect for the weather. 

  It was drizzling, the kind of weather that you liked to call a “lover’s drizzle” because of how often it was seen in romantic scenes. Scenes of confession, of reunion, of desperation between two lovers- more often than not, they had the mild rain to stand in. You turned the music down before shutting your car off and then stepping out, closing the door and locking it immediately before walking briskly to the entrance of the coffee shop with your recent drawings in hand. 

 Bucky wasn’t there when you arrived. In fact, hardly anyone was there besides the few employees, who smiled at you when you entered but otherwise fell back into conversation amongst themselves, which was fine with you. There was one beefy blonde man who was sitting with a laptop and a ball cap on. He glanced up for a moment and then took a double take, blinking hard at you with a star struck look on his face, and then he shot his gaze back down and went back to typing.

You sat down at a table for two, the only type of table that was there besides the long, awkward study tables that they had set up in the center of the room. You would much rather take the intimate setting of a two-seater than to sit in the middle of the shop, so you did just that. You flipped through your work, looking at it closely now that you had the time. He had mentioned something about possible portrait work for a friend of his, so you naturally brought most of the drawings that you had done with hands, arms, eyes, hair, nearly everything that was the closest to your heart. You rested your palm on top of them and watched your fingers trace the slender ones that you had drawn in what felt like by memory at the time, like you were just remembering the way an old friend’s hands used to look. You peeled that one back and looked into the eyes, the strangest and prettiest light green color that made your heart pound every time you looked at it. You took a deep breath in.

  “That’s gorgeous.” You jumped in your seat as the chair in front of you pulled out from under the table, and there was the charming brunet that you had met by the fountain, giving you the same welcoming smile that he first granted you. You smiled back without hesitation, your heart warming at the sight. “You sure can draw.” 

  “I try,” you joked, your grin nearly splitting your face. “Do you drink coffee?” 

“Nah,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “But I like tea, though.” You gave him a thoughtful look. 

“Are you into herbal healing?” 

You could have sworn that there was some sort of excitement in his eyes, but you weren’t sure enough by the time he opened his mouth again. “Yes, actually! What, does it look like I’m into it?” 

“No,” you answered, and it was true. Bucky was huge. He had the kind of build that intimidated other guys at the gym, the kind that made athletes jealous. He looked like the typical meathead, but he was sweeter than you could have imagined. But he looked nothing like a man who would be into herbal healing. “Just a guess.” 

“Pretty good guess,” he mused, and you grinned back. Your head was in the clouds of some strange deja vu when he asked you if you wanted something, and the entire exchange of whether or not you were going to pay was on the back burner as you sifted through your thoughts. By the time he came back, you noticed that you must have told him that you liked hot chocolate, and that he must have paid. You scolded him before he sat back down, waving you off. It was silent for a few moments as you looked out of the window, the rain still steadily working through the atmosphere. The cup was comfortingly warm. 

“Can I ask you something?” 

  With any other man, you would have immediately told him no, or at least have your guard up. But there was just something deep down, so buried that it was faint, but it was there, that told you that he was nowhere even close to being a threat. “Yes.”

 He nodded, taking a sip of his tea and then putting his cup down gently before giving you an intense look. “Who’s the girl?”  

You frowned. “What girl?” 

He raised a singular brow. “The one you draw.” 

Your breath hitched in your throat. You blinked twice, and then tilted your head to the side. “I don’t draw just one person,” you said slowly, the lie dragging its way out of your mouth and through your teeth. “They’re different people.” 

“Oh,” he said, but the smirk on his face told you that he knew you were lying to him and to yourself. You sipped your drink and something tugged at you, telling you to look out of the window and into the rain again, just one more time before you spilled your guts about seeing things- and then something caught your eye. A flash of a familiar reddish-brown. You turned your full body to look that way, and once you did, you nearly dropped your cup. 

  There was a woman staring back at you, eyes wide and full of so much emotion that the artist in you wanted to rush to make an unworthy attempt at capturing it. Her lips were parted in pure shock, but you were watching them tremble even from far away. She was getting slightly damp in the rain, but she stood there like it didn’t even matter, just locking eyes with you and sending your heart rate through the roof. When your eyes finally came back to hers after looking at her for what felt like the quickest eternity, you gasped. You knew those eyes. 

  If you weren’t so deep into gazing at the woman stuck behind the glass, you would have noticed the pleased and content look on Bucky’s face, and the look that he gave the big blond sitting with a ball cap on all by himself. You would have noticed the way that the blond man was turning his body towards your table, watching with the same amount of anticipation as Bucky was. You tried to understand why she looked so familiar, why she was scratching the part of your brain that always tried to convince you that you were much older than twenty something- and then it hit you. 

  You had been drawing this woman. And you had been thinking about her ever since you knew how to think. It was just the first time you were ever seeing the full picture. “I-” you muttered, eyes stuck on her and the way she looked like she was about to topple over from emotions. The words got stuck in your own throat as you weakly tried to get your mind to take you back to the conversation. “I- excuse me. I have to- I’ll be back- excuse me.” Your chair made a loud noise as you stood from the table in a haste, pushing the door open and walking towards the woman who was still standing on the sidewalk, dumbstruck. 

Before you even knew you were outside and into the rain, you were standing not even four steps away from the woman, who was now looking at you with an incomprehensible look on her face. You couldn’t even feel the rain on you. All you could feel was her gaze and the warmth that was settling in your stomach and chest, and the same intense familiarity that was hitting you when you looked at Bucky. But it was so much stronger. 

“I-” you frowned, taking a step closer and resisting the urge to reach out and touch her. “Do I know you? Have we met?” You had to have met. You had seen her in your sleep, in your daydreams, in your sketchbook. And still, you never could have imagined how beautiful she was. 

She was silent. 

“I know this is random and that I just bum rushed you, but, did we go to school together or something?” You were embarrassed. You had never begged someone to remember you before, but this woman was different. She hadn’t said a word to you, and you didn’t even know her name, but you were enraptured. You swore you knew her. You swore you saw her eyes glaze over for a second. 

“You really don’t remember, do you?” Her voice struck something familiar in your chest, something warm and comforting. It was so familiar, so far back in your memory that it felt like home. Her accent, her inflection, the way she spoke slowly yet deliberately. It was all there in your mind, but you just couldn’t figure out how you knew it so well. “You don’t remember who I am?” 

 That had you closing your mouth. You tilted your head to the side at what could have been a hostile question, but her tone made it sad. Did you forget a high school friend? “Oh, um, I know you from somewhere, but I can’t really-” 

 “Think.” The desperation in her voice made your knees shake. If she were anyone else, you would have told her to go away, but you couldn’t. You didn’t want her to go away. But you couldn’t quite place her either, even though your own heart was screaming at you to remember. 

  “I’m sorry,” you said, a hurt expression on your face. You braved yourself to leave, taking a deep breath and giving her a weak smile that embarrassed you even further. “This was weird of me. I’ll just-” 

 She was reaching for you. Time started to run slower as her pale arm extended towards you, long fingers that you had committed to memory and to paper a thousand times outstretched. Your mouth dropped open ever so slightly as you stood in place for a second, body still until you subconsciously leaned forward, your nerves buzzing under your skin. 

  For a second, the only thing you could do was look at the point where her skin touched yours. 

  You had seen magic before. You had seen it in movies and at theme parks and when miracles happened, but nothing ever like when her skin touched yours. You swore that the warmth that your body had been feeling kicked in even stronger, surrounding you in comfort. Her hand was wrapped around your arm, gentle yet begging, firm yet wishing all the same for something you couldn’t quite see yet. You looked up and into her eyes, the eyes you had drawn and seen so many times, and then you saw it. 

   You saw it in more than flashes. They were coming in at the speed of light, but somehow you were able to catch every moment and every feeling that came along. You heard her voice as clear as day, ringing with laughter. You saw the two of you attempting to skip stones. You saw her enchanting your stones behind your back to make you think you had actually done it. You saw her mouth brushing over your cheeks, your mouth, your forehead. You could feel her hands on you, holding you, protecting you, cherishing you all the same. You could remember the way that you felt when you saw her standing in traditional witch’s clothing, being inducted into her coven as a blossomed witch. You saw everything and nothing, and you remembered it all. 

Wanda. 

A strangled sound escaped your body, so feral that it scared you, but you didn’t care. You pulled her forward, your head clashing against her chest. You could feel her shaking, like she wanted nothing more than to hold you just as tightly, but she was hesitating. “Wanda,” you called out, hugging her tighter, and then, like something in the universe stretched too far and then snapped right back into place, she was returning the embrace. 

  “I thought I had lost you forever,” she said, her voice hollow yet so full, so expressive. “I lost you, darling.” 

  The memories were all there, like all it took was a touch, but you were still coping with the knowledge. You had been murdered. Murdered by witch hunters, way back when witches were known and feared. That had to have been hundreds of years ago, you knew it. But still, your focus was on Wanda. It always would be on Wanda, forever and always. Just like hers was on you. 

“You didn’t,” you managed to say, your own voice thick with emotion as you buried your face into her neck, finally feeling the texture of the hair that you tried so hard to get right. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere ever again.” 

“I’m sorry,” she said, suddenly sobbing in your arms. You had no idea how you weren’t being interrupted in the crowded streets, but when you took a look back inside of the cafe to see the men who you so clearly remembered as Steve and Bucky, you knew it had something to do with them and their fulfilled smiles. “I wasn’t able to save you. I let you die, and I’m so sorry, darling. I’m so sorry.” 

  Her words brought you back to the present. “Wanda, no. No, no, no.” You wanted to pull away and look at her face, but the second you started to, she held onto you even tighter. You leaned your head back onto her chest. “It wasn’t your fault. There was no way any of us could have known, and no way that you could have saved me. It was beyond us.” 

  “Nothing should have ever been beyond us.” She argued softly. “I’m so sorry.” 

“But it was,” you said. “And now it’s behind us. Don’t apologize, Wanda.” You wiggled around and got free enough to look up at her teary face. “I may not have recognized you, but now that I do, I can’t believe that I ever forgot you.”

   “A new life will do that to you.” 

“Is it really a new life if I remember everything?” You said softly, the rain long gone as you stood with each other, bodies nearly molded together with how close you were. 

  She pulled away to look down at you, her eyes and overall expression tense, and then there was a look that you recognized from a long time ago. It was a look of sweet desire. You closed the cap between the two of you, pressing your lips to hers in a way that proved that you were both two lost souls who had wandered their way back to their other halves. 

“It can be whatever you want it to be, darling.” Her lips brushed your again, soft and tender and eager for more touch. “As long as you let me be in it.” 

[freddie-weaselbee]

Someone Blue//F.W.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader 

Warnings: Slight language, angst, a lot of confusion, fluffy ending

Summary: Fred spots a familiar face at his brother’s wedding, and has a sinking suspicion about why she’s acting so upset during this time of celebration. 

Prompts: Enemies to Lovers (kind of) and Weddings with the dialogue prompts “you look like you need a hug” and “did you need something?”

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: Day 1 of @theweasleyslut‘s 2k writing challenge 

Angelina looked absolutely ethereal, skin glowing in the shimmering lights as she glided across the grass as if it was a ballroom floor. Her white dress was slightly stained, mostly from when her now husband tackled her to the ground after their first kiss as a married couple, and yet it only made her seem all the more angelic. 

George’s feet seemed to never touch the ground. He was moving at record speeds, prancing and hopping and skipping around the dance floor, dragging his wife along with him. It was the most joyful Fred had ever seen him. 

Not when they left Hogwarts, not when they opened their shop, not even when Angelina said yes to the proposal could have compared to the happiness on George’s face. Nor Angelina’s. They were in a pure state of bliss. 

The rest of the wedding-goers seemed to match their energy. Fred couldn’t go anywhere without being bombarded with drunken laughs and horrid dancing, and the occasional congratulations or two from some tipsy guests who didn’t know that the man they were talking to wasn’t the groom. 

All in all, it was an amazing night. The field behind the burrow had become a traditional wedding venue for the growing Weasley children, so far hosting Bill, Percy, Ron, and now George’s days to remember. The tents and lights were all set up as they were with Bill and Fleur’s wedding, except this time there was no risk of Death Eaters ruining the event. Hopefully. 

However, while making his way around to talk to (and flirt with) the guests, Fred happened to notice one person who did not fit the overzealous tone. Well, he didn’t really happen to notice. Rather he’d been staring at her throughout the entire night, watching her somber mood break through her happy façade. Not that he’d ever admit that to anyone. 

You were standing by yourself, but you weren’t secluded from the action. Rather, you were right in the middle of things, on the very edge of the dance floor, staring out at the masses of bodies swinging their partners around. Your arms were crossed over your chest, a defensive position that Fred had seen so many times in you before. 

He turned away and tried to ignore it. It wasn’t any of his business if you were upset. The two of you were barely even friends anymore. You had cut him out of your life so many years ago and never looked back. To this day, Fred still didn’t know why, and it killed him. 

He wanted to walk away. To go the other direction toward a beautiful guest wearing a flowing red dress, hair done up perfectly. The stranger would be the smart choice. A fun way to spend the evening, dancing around and snogging under moonlit trees. But, against his better judgement, Fred’s heart wouldn't let him leave. 

Sighing, Fred lifted his feet and made his way in the other direction, to the girl who couldn’t care less about him. 

You stood unmoving, except for a subtle sway to the music. People brushed by you, but you paid them no mind. You were too focused on something else. As Fred drew nearer, he was able to follow your line of sight to the people in question. The newlyweds. 

Fred bristled before softening slightly. Of course. This must be about George. Back at Hogwarts, Fred was positive you had the biggest crush on his brother. You were always tagging along with their jokes, even when they got you into huge trouble. You definitely spent more time alone with George than Fred, sharing whispers and stares at the expense of the older twin. He could never get George to break and tell him what you two talked about. George even took you to the Yule Ball in your 6th year. You had never looked as radiant as you did that night, except for maybe this moment. Fred wished he had asked you to dance at the ball, but he never worked up the courage to. He didn’t want you to internally grimace at the thought of dancing with the “lesser” Weasley twin when George was right there. 

In his recollection of memories, Fred hadn’t noticed how close he had gotten to you, and how you were no longer gazing at the couple dancing. You were now staring at him. 

“Did you need something?”

Fred was shaken out of his imagination, met with an annoyed glare but soft smile coming from you. His surprise was immediately replaced with his signature cocky grin, leaning his hand onto one of the wedding tables while keeping his gaze on you. Unfortunately, his hand accidentally dipped into a wine glass, but he quickly pulled it out and hoped you didn’t notice. You did. 

“Well, that’s not a very nice way to greet one of your oldest friends, now is it?” Fred wiped his wine-covered hand on his suit pants and slipped it into his pocket, pretending to be unbothered by his previous mistake. 

You turned your eyes away from him, once again gluing them to the dance floor. “I think it’s fitting, seeing as how you were creepily staring at me for about 5 minutes before I said something.”

Fred’s ears grew pink at the accusation. “I, umm, I didn’t realize it was that long. Or that you noticed. Sorry.” He bashfully rubbed the back of his neck, pretending to glance around at other guests who might interest him more. 

“You still haven’t answered me.”

Fred cocked his head to the side in question. 

“Why’d you come over here? Was there something you needed?”

“Ah, yes well,” Fred began smoothly, “I saw this darling beauty from across the tent and I just could not take my eyes off of her--”

“Fred,” you interrupted. You were looking at him again, your gaze piercing through him, forcing him to tell you the truth, to tell you everything about him. His fears, his hopes and dreams, what he had for breakfast this morning. He wanted to tell you it all. 

“The truth, please.”

Clearing his throat, and his mind of whatever thoughts just plagued him, Fred decided to be honest. You deserved that much. 

“You look like you need a hug,” he said, shrugging nonchalantly. 

Evidently, those were not the words you were expecting to hear. You were prepared with about a dozen quips to say in response to whatever cocky joke Fred was about to make. But he didn’t, and nothing could have prepared you for what he did say. 

“I--I need a what?”

“Sorry, have you lost your hearing or was I not loud enough? It’s definitely not the second; you’ve told me on numerous occasions that I have the biggest mouth of anyone you know.”

There it was. But it still made you giggle, relaxing and gravitating closer to your companion. 

“I heard you,” you said, “just wasn’t expecting that from you, I guess.”

Fred took a half step closer, visibly glad when you didn’t move away. “Wasn’t expecting me to have noticed your behavior, or wasn’t expecting me to care if I did?”

It took you a few seconds to respond. “Both.”

He let out a sound of understanding before you both averted your eyes, looking straight ahead. Occasionally, Fred would try to look at you using his peripheral vision, and you would do the same. It became a kind of game--just an awkward back and forth between two people who used to be so close, and were now so far apart.

You game ended when one of the wedding guests decided to clink their glass, beginning a chorus of high pitched chimes to echo throughout the room. You watched as George turned to find Angelina, running to her to give her a kiss so full of love and passion that it took everything Fred had not to shout out a joke and ruin the moment. He could do that next time. 

He noticed you stiffen at the kiss, presumably because it was just another reminder of what you couldn’t have. George. 

“You know, I always wanted to be a Weasley.”

Fred was surprised that you had spoken to him, and even more surprised about the turn the conversation had taken. 

“I grew up with you guys,” you continued, not waiting for Fred to respond. “Molly was like my second mother, even though she always liked Hermione and Harry a bit more than me.”

“Join the club,” said Fred, causing you to laugh loudly, a sound he hadn’t heard from you in ages. Godric, how he had missed it.

“It’s just…” you trailed off, not knowing if you wanted to be open with Fred, someone you hadn’t spoken to in years. Chances were, you wouldn’t keep in touch much after the wedding, so you might as well. What was there to lose? “It’s just...seeing Angelina, one of my best friends, dance around, wearing that ring, getting to be an actual Weasley. It’s...it’s making me a wee bit jealous.”

Fred watched you fidget with a bracelet on your wrist and decided to push his luck just a bit more. “And you’re wishing that it could be you wearing the ring, married to a certain Weasley gentleman?”

The shock was evident in your expression. “No, no, it’s not--I mean I never…” Sighing, you decided to come clean. “Yeah, I’ve maybe been harboring feelings for a certain twin for, oh I don’t know, my entire life. No biggie though, it’s totally fine that he never asked me out.”

The ginger beside you threw an arm around your shoulder, handing you a glass of wine in the process. “Drink. It makes everything better.”

You glared at him, but took the glass anyways, chugging it down in a few large gulps. “Another, please,” you demanded, and Fred obliged. 

You started to ease into Fred’s side, as soft and comforting as you remembered it to be, before realizing exactly what it was you were doing. “Fred, can I ask you something?”

“‘Course. You can ask me anything.” The absolute last thing Fred wanted to be doing at the moment was talking about your undying love for his twin brother, at his wedding no less, but he didn’t want to leave you alone. Not seeing you for so long had had a harsher effect on him than he thought, and he didn’t want to leave your side. 

Taking a deep breath and gathering your courage, you asked him the question that had been plaguing your mind for years. The one that ate you from the inside out and kept you tossing and turning at night. The reason you had to separate yourself from your love in the first place. “Why am I not good enough?”

Your voice broke a tiny bit, but a lot less than you had been expecting. A tear did happen to slip out, and Fred quickly wiped it away, his fingertip resting on your cheek for a moment too long. 

“Y/N, love, come here.” Fred pulled you into that hug he had talked about earlier, holding you closely to his chest. If he thought you were going to appreciate the gesture, he was wrong. You pushed him away softly, refusing to let any more tears fall. 

“I’m serious, Fred. W-Why am I not good enough? I’ve made it clear for years and yet...nothing. And not even a simple rejection. I could’ve handled that, y’know. If I got a simple no, I could’ve handled it and moved on. But I never did, and it’s killing me. Why am I not good enough?”

It killed Fred to see you this upset, and it hurt him even more to see that the anger was directed at him and not at George. It was his brother that broke your heart after all, not him. “You are good enough!” Fred said, with enough truth and force that a little part of you believed it. “You’re, you’re too good! You’ve been by our side from the beginning and haven’t left it since. Well, we haven’t seen you in years, but that’s probably because of--”

You nodded, confirming what he thought. Your heartbreak had driven you away. 

“But other than that,” he continued, “you’ve been like my third arm. Any guy would be crazy to give you up, you know that?”

 A tiny smile grew on your face, but was gone as soon as it had arrived. “The timing...the timing was just all wrong, wasn’t it?” you asked. 

Fred nodded, watching his brother and his wife greet guests and take pictures that were sure to be on the mantle in the burrow as soon as the wedding was over. “Yeah, I guess so. The prick should’ve asked you out sooner.”

“Oh I agree wholeheartedly, he is a prick,” you said, poking his arm, a gesture that slightly confused him. “So, I’m guessing there’s no chance of anything happening now? No sliver of hope that maybe this could work out?”

He hated that he would be the one to crush your dreams, but he couldn’t let you keep living in false hope. “Well,” he said, “the wedding bands are on and they both said ‘I do.’ Kind of hard to come back from that. I’m sorry.”

You froze, now more befuddled than you had been all night. “I...what?”

Before Fred could say anything you reached to grab his left hand, checking his ring finger for something you knew wasn’t there, but you had to be sure. 

“Wedding bands? What in the world do you--” Realization hit you like a brick, and you wanted to slap yourself. Or Fred. Either one. But preferably the latter. 

“Frederick, my dear love, who do you think we have been talking about this whole time?” you asked, voice genuine but also teasing. 

Fred didn’t know what you all of a sudden found so amusing, but he was already doubting himself and he didn’t want you to make fun of him for whatever he had done wrong. 

“Umm, well you said a Weasley, and then you said a Weasley twin. So I thought the answer was obvious.”

“Say it,” you demanded. “Who have we been talking about? Who am I in love with after years of unrequited feelings?”

He felt like he was walking into a trap, but he couldn’t figure out what it was. He hesitated for a few seconds before your searing gaze forced him to answer. “George. We’re talking about my brother George.”

No sooner had his words left his mouth than your hand came up to slap his head. “You idiot! Are you serious right now?”

Fred stood flabbergasted, racking his brain for who else you could have been talking about. George was a Weasley twin. You said you were in love with a Weasley twin. Who else was there?

“It’s you, you big oaf!”

Oh. OH! There were two Weasley twins, and he was one of them. Which meant…

“You’re in love with me?!”

By this point, heads were turned to watch the scene and people were not-so-subtly whispering to their partners. 

You dragged a still surprised Fred through the crowd and out of the tents, finding a secluded enough area where you could talk. 

Fred’s brain had still not been caught up. “It’s me? You’re in love with me? But, but what about George?”

You furrowed your brow, wondering how Fred could have so easily mistaken your feelings for him as those for another. “What about George?”

“You’re in love with him!”

“I most definitely am not!”

“The Yule Ball!” he spat out. “You went to the Yule Ball with him when we were 16!”

“Yes,” you said calmly, “and you went with Angelina, but I don’t see you two getting married. We went as friends and I talked to him about you the entire night. In fact, most of the time when we hung out I was talking about you. Made him swear not to tell though. I was never good about expressing my feelings.”

Fred put a hand to his head, a growing throb threatening to overtake his senses. “But why were you so sad tonight? You wanted to marry George!”

“No,” you said patiently. “I was sad because Angelina and George’s relationship worked out the way I was wishing one between you and I had. They fell in love during school, dated a few years later, and now she’s a part of your family. I wasn’t wishing it was just me out there with your brother. I was wishing that it was our wedding.”

You blushed heavily and buried your face in your hands, embarrassed by your bluntness about your feelings. “Oh, Godric, I shouldn’t have said that, now it’s more awkward. I, umm, I should probably get going.”

Fred grabbed your wrist before you could leave, pulling you into his chest. His eyes were wide, mouth hanging slightly ajar as he gazed down at your muddled expression. 

“It’s me. I’m the one you love.”

He said it as more of a declaration rather than a question, but you could tell that he needed confirmation. 

“Of course, Freddie,” you said. “It’s always been you.”

His hand wasted no time in going to the back of your head, pulling your face into his and melding your lips together in your first kiss with Fred Weasley. After the shock wore off, you were hastily kissing him back, hoping against all hope that he wouldn’t pull back and proclaim what a stupid mistake this all was. But he never did. You kissed and kissed and kissed until you were the one who had to pull back in order to catch your breath. 

It took you both a few seconds to realize what had just happened, and for the first time you both were at a loss for words. “That was, umm…” you mumbled, trying to think of what to say. 

“I love you too.”

Fred’s words were rushed out of his mouth, voice deep ragged. “I mean, when you said it was me, not George, that you loved. I, well, I love you too. Always have. Guess I just thought that you had a thing for George and I had no chance. Pretty silly of me, huh?”

“Downright stupid of you,” you replied, giggling as he pushed you away with a bashful smile gracing his lips. 

“So,” he said quietly, inching closer to you once again, “is there a chance of anything happening now?” Fred repeated the words you had said earlier, making you smile wider than you had all night. 

“Depends,” you said. “Are you gonna get the courage to ask me out?”

Fred waited for a moment before answering. “How about,” he said, offering his arm out for you to link with yours, “we have that dance we never got at the Yule Ball. And then that date we never got after, and then that relationship we never got as well. Oh! And then that wedding, and then a dog, maybe a few kids, a big house in the country--”

“Woahhh, slow down buddy, you haven’t ever properly asked me!”

You took his arm and made your way back to where the music continued to blare and festivities raged on. 

“Y/N, love, may I have this dance?”

You pushed a strand of hair from his face, ruffling it up a little to give it that signature Fred Weasley style. 

“Of course, Freddie. And every dance after that.”

Tag List:

@famdomhideout @amourtentiaa

[shootingstarwritings]

Keepin’ it in the Family

Manfred—Freddy for short—was a young man that spent his life in the shadow of his uncle’s side of the family. Meek, shy, unassuming, and more of an indoors type. “I’m more of a type B kind of fellow,” he would answer whenever someone asked him what kind of person he was. Meanwhile, Daniel Crawford and his son, Alex, were the exact opposite. Tall, strong, and always willing to get down and sweaty in an activity. They often dominated every family gathering and gleefully hogged the spotlight shined on them.

“Did you know Alex got a football scholarship… Daniel bought a second house… oh my gawd, li’l Danny got so buff last year, can’t believe he used to be my younger bro…!” On and on Freddy would hear until he got sick of it.

“Why dontcha join a team or somethin’, squirt?” his cousin Alex teased him while roughly messing up his hair. Although Freddy couldn’t deny his cousin was annoying and far too energetic, he couldn’t bring himself to hate him. There was always an authenticity behind his invites to play football with his friends. He was brutish but kind. That was all.

Freddy’s uncle Daniel was a different story.

On a certain day during a family gathering, Daniel concerned Freddy in a hallway. “Perhaps if you applied yourself more," he once told Freddy, the disdain clear in his voice, "you'd get as far as my boy does in life." The rest of the family was just a few rooms away, but their cheerful voices were worlds away. “But until you do that, I want you to stop spending any time with Alex. Honestly don’t know why he wastes his precious youth on someone like you.”

Freddy didn't respond but nodded while glaring defiantly at the floor. He jumped back as his uncle grabbed him by the throat and forcefully tilted his head upwards. Freddy let out a sharp hiss of pain but prevented himself from screaming.

With a low voice, his uncle Daniel said, “Look at me while I’m speaking, you little shit. Don’t want your mediocrity holding my golden son back. Stay away from him or else.” He punctuated his last words by shoving Freddy to the wall. “Can’t believe you and your father are related to us. Well, guess we know who got the better genes in the family.”

Freddy glared at him as he walked away. It was painful, but he could endure. As long as he lived, he would not let this abuse break him. The day would come when he would prove him wrong.

However, it all came to a head about a week ago, when Freddy announced his plans for a graduation party. Most of the replies in the texts he sent out for his family were some variation of, “Oh, I’m sorry Freddy, but your uncle Danny is planning to celebrate his promotion at work that day. Perhaps you can reschedule.” As always, Freddy remained overshadowed.

“Bastards,” Freddy’s father, a rotund and balding man by the name of Benny, exclaimed as he saw the texts. “Can’t even spare a day for you. It’s always those two pricks.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time,” Freddy muttered, glaring down at the texts on his phone. How often had his family ignored him in favor of those two? How often did his uncle mistreat him to guarantee that his ‘golden child’ Alex would remain as successful as he was? The questions kept echoing in his mind until, finally, he decided to cut this cycle.

“If you want,” his father tried again, “we can spend that weekend just the two of us, son. We can travel and celebrate our way."

“It’s all right, dad. I know exactly what I’m gonna do,” said Freddy as he marched off to his room. He would have to draw up the runes and memorize the incantations before long. By being efficient, he would have the spell all set by dawn’s early light.

However, his father stopped him by placing a firm hand on his shoulder—a rarity. “Hold on son," Benny said in a tender voice. "I understand what you're going through, believe me, I know. I was never the golden child of the family either. Danny made sure of that." There was disdain in Benny's voice that Freddy had never heard from before, but he had little time to dwell on it as his father continued. "But, to me, you'll always be the golden child, Freddy. I just want you to know that." Then, Benny pulled his son in for a hug.

Freddy eagerly returned in, shoving his thoughts of revenge to the back of his mind for the moment. Now, he just wanted to spend time with his father. Dusk came and went, and the two bid each other good night as they settled into their rooms on different floors. With nothing to interrupt Freddy, he set off to work.

It began when he found a book of occult rituals and spells in his father's study. Never had Benny spoken about this to Freddy, and Freddy lacked the courage to confront his father about it. Instead, he took photos of the various pages of spells and tried them out for himself—another reason why he did not want his father to know that he knew. By doing this magic in secret, Freddy could indulge in his fantasies that were now just a spell away. Coaches, classmates, and neighbors all fell to his charms and rituals; fulfilling deviant actions according to his whims.

My father can never know, Freddy thought bitterly to himself as he drew the sigils on his rug with chalk, he’ll never know so he’ll always be proud of me, his pure and hard-working son.

Tonight would be the first time Freddy would attempt the possession spell as well as the first time he broke a rule he had set for himself when he first began to use magic: never involve a family member. Now, he read through the procedure on his phone and prepared to sink into an even deeper level of deviancy. A bit of the text at the bottom of the page was faded, but the instructions were all written out. It’s most likely flavor text, Freddy thought.

This spell would allow the invoker to project his soul towards an unassuming target. From then on, a battle of wills would begin, and the dominant soul would take over the body. The invoker is not guaranteed to be successful. Caution must be exercised, and a strong will is heavily recommended.

It was a frightening thought, but Freddy did not allow that to slow him down. His hands trembled with excitement and his heart raced with pure adrenaline as he pictured his uncle’s sexy yet punchable face.

In the heat of the moment, Freddy cast the spell alongside the rising sun. Once those accursed words left his lips, a sharp and painful sensation spread throughout his body. It was as if his soul was being stretched and twisted, like a rubber band. However, he just gritted his teeth and endured it as he always did. The suffering of a spell or his uncle’s harassment was all the same—nothing he couldn’t handle. However, when the pain continued to grow in magnitude, Freddy was afraid this spell was going to rip his soul in half.

Then came the release—the catharsis. The spell catapulted Freddy’s soul at a speed rivaling that of a bullet train’s. Freddy screamed both in terror and sheer jubilation as his soul traveled through the dawn-dyed sky. Everything, even the sun, was a blurry mess until he arrived at his uncle’s expensive house, where he finally stopped. He was back in control.

Slowly, Freddy glided through the halls of a home that alienated him for most of his life. While searching for his uncle’s room, he stumbled upon his cousin Alex sleeping on top of the covers, clad in just a pair of boxer briefs. Though Freddy intended to keep moving, he remained still and watched his cousin’s chest slowly rise and fall as he slept peacefully.

“You deserve a better father,” Freddy whispered, caressing his cousin’s cheek with his ghostly hand. His voice and touch were nothing more than a chilly breeze on Alex’s bare skin. When Freddy noticed the goosebumps that spread down his cousin’s arms, he drew back and excused himself from the room. His target still needed to be punished.

A few hallways later, Freddy found himself floating above his uncle. Daniel, just like his son, slept above his covers and nearly in the nude to deal with the brutal summer heat. Even so, beads of sweat still glistened in his half-naked, furry body. His breathing was just as peaceful and gentle as Alex's as it passed through his heart-shaped lips. "If only you were as kind as you look while sleeping," Freddy said as he glared down at Daniel. Hatred and lust pushed him forward, and he gleefully enacted his plan.

Having spent quite a long time manipulating the wills of men, Freddy knew that the best way to overwhelm them was to do so post-coitus. “You’ll be my ticket to happiness,” he whispered to his uncle, “you piece of shit asshole.” He began by running his tongue down his uncle’s bare chest, giving the nipple a lick.

The effect was immediate. Daniel’s eyes shot open as he shivered at the paranormal touch. He looked around, perplexed. “What the fuck?” he said.

Freddy snickered at his uncle’s confusion. He pushed his uncle back onto the bed, one hand twirling and playing with his nipples while another teased the bulge hidden by the briefs. “W-Woah, oh shit!” said Daniel, trying to kick his invisible assaulter away to no avail. When the sensation didn’t stop, Daniel attempted to rise only for Freddy to roughly shove him back onto the bed again.

“I’m not done with you!” Freddy roared to his uncle’s terror. The rush of power was intoxicating, and Freddy greedily drank in every pathetic whimper and moan from his uncle. He pulled his underwear off, revealing his uncle’s large hard-on, and threw it to the side. “God, you’re thick,” Freddy moaned as he took his uncle’s cock in his hand. “C’mon, cum for me, old man,” he said as his lips played with the pecs. He continued to mercilessly play with his uncle, humping his body to elicit more of his moans.

“N-No—aahh, mmm! Pl-Please stoooAAAAHH—stop!” said Daniel as he felt his core tighten. Freddy noticed it too and quickly released his uncle from his sexual grasp. “AH! Oh fuck, I’m—ngh!” said Daniel as his abused dick begged for release.

“Not yet, that's gonna be my climax, uncle," Freddy said. To reward his uncle was far more than what the bastard deserved. Instead, Freddy would steal his climax, his body, and his dignity. “You’re mine!” he said, caution be damned as he dove into his uncle’s body.

“F-Fred—OOF!” The sheer force of Freddy’s dive caused his uncle to bounce on the mattress. “Oh FUCK!” Daniel cried out as he felt impossibly full. Two souls occupied the same space, and much like the shifting plates of the ever-changing earth, stress was born of this conflict. Daniel gritted his teeth, even more sweat coating his convulsing body as he attempted to hold onto his consciousness. However, Freddy’s essence continued to spread.

The possession spell operated on a similar concept as ink falling upon a cup of pure water. Slowly, the water would darken as it took on the shade of the ink until it was almost completely indistinguishable from the original ink that tinted—or tainted—it.

Just as the ink colored the water, so too did Freddy’s soul spill and tint his uncle’s very essence—mind, body, and spirit. Daniel, of course, continued to push his nephew’s soul out of him. He kicked at his bed and gripped his sheets so tightly his veins were visible in his arms. Until the very last second, he tried to will his body back under his control. However, he eventually collapsed onto his bed, eyes rolling into the back of his head, and blacked out. His body convulsed for a few more minutes as it took on the last remains of Freddy's essence, before finally quieting down.

Freddy opened his new eyes and immediately put his attention back on his uncle's dick. "Oh god, uncle, you're so sensitive!" he said as he continued stroking himself. “I-I’m CUMMING!” he bellowed as he shot load after load in his new form, seeing white as he fell back onto the sweat-covered sheets. “Oh my god, Danny-boy, I can’t wait to wreck you today.” Freddy would seize the day, and by nightfall, he would make his uncle a shame upon his family.

A few hallways away, Alex had his own visitor.

“S-Stop, uncle!” Alex screamed as the much larger soul of Benny finished entering his younger body. “Y-You can’t—AH! AAAHHH!” He whimpered and moaned just as his father did before collapsing into a mess of convulsing limbs.

Alex blacked out, and his uncle Benny awoke. “God, that felt good,” he said, stretching his new, muscular body. It was pleasurably sore after the workout he gave his unwilling nephew. “Ya got a good lookin’ bod, kid,” he said, grinning as he rubbed his hands down his new form. “But it’s my turn to be the golden child, if only for a day,” he finished, excited to have his hole filled in a day filled with debauchery.

Unbeknownst to father and son, there was more to the spell lost as the ink faded from the page. It read as follows:

Just as the water becomes nearly inseparable from the ink, the souls also become unable to be torn apart. There is no hope for the water to become pure and no hope for the ink to be whole. They are bound together for eternity, as are the souls tainted by the invoker. The invoker’s body will perish upon the spell’s completion, and the invoker will remain in their new body until the possession spell is used again, thus killing the old target.

[skiitter]

A prompt, my dear. Hermione and Draco + “who hurt you?”

Draco Malfoy was a lot of things, the majority of which were less than desirable to any sensible person, but one thing he was not was late. His punctuality was a point of pride, in a sea of arrogance no doubt, but Hermione had come to appreciate it over the course of their working relationship. It was something she could rely on, something immovable in an otherwise dangerously murky situation. He may needle her ceaselessly and leave her to do the lions share of the paperwork, but he was always there when he was expected, an effortless air of smugness clinging to him like bad cologne.

This Sunday, however; this unremarkable, overcast Sunday in late September he was late. It was the day after her 24th birthday as well as their final meeting. The report had been ostensibly completed, the field work essentially finished, and the conclusion inevitably drawn. After the better part of a year dedicating 1/3rd of every weekend to spending most of the day with Malfoy, Hermione's Sundays were about to become her own once more; a prospect she was not all that excited about.

Everytime the chirp of the bell above the door announced a new arrival, she would glance over, expecting to see a shock of platinum hair above a signature sneer and everytime, she was disappointed.

"Another tea, miss?" The waitress asked, her expression a perfect blend of professionalism and pity.

"No, no thank you." Hermione spared another look out the window, searching for him among the crowd. "Actually, I think I'm done here. Could I get the check?"

Bundled up against the autumn chill, Hermione paid and left the Cafe' and it's memories behind. It wasn't quite noon yet, and the streets were slowly filling with the townspeople emerging to go about their days. She smiled at a few passersby but was otherwise lost in her own thoughts as she made her way to the Apparition point.

Maybe Malfoy had just decided their final meeting wasn't all that important. To be fair it was more of a formality than anything else. His decision to not show would have no negative consequence on anything other than her feelings. Feelings, of course, that she was deliberately not thinking about.

As she rounded the corner, absorbed in her denial, she didn't see him until it was too late. With an audible "oof" she ran straight into Malfoy, colliding chest to chest. She immediately bounced off but he caught her arm before she could hit the sidewalk.

"What--Malfoy?"

"Graceful as always, Granger." He let her go and she stared, wide eyed and confused, at the state of his face.

"Merlin! Your face it's--"

"Your manners leave so very much to be desired." He looked cross but it was hard to tell beneath the bruising. An ugly, mottled patch of purple marred the left side of his face, stark and violent against his pale skin. It was fresh, the edges red with the recent impact, and it appeared to have just narrowly missed his eye.

"Malfoy," she reached her hand out, ghosting her fingertips over the bruise. "What happened?"

He sneered at her and jerked away. "Keep your obligatory Gryffindor concern to yourself, Granger."

"It's not an obligation!"

"Says the war hero."

"Will you--ugh!" She huffed and dragged him back around the corner, off of the sidewalk and into an alley. "What happened?" She repeated.

"Nothing."

"Malfoy."

He looked around, deliberately avoiding making eye contact with her. "I made a wrong turn at Diagon Alley, is all."

"A wrong turn?" The incredulity in her voice was palpable. "To where? A boxing ring?"

"Just drop it, Granger."

"I will not just drop it. Look--look at your face!" She closed the space between them. "Malfoy, please. What happened?"

He sighed and the rigidity of his shoulders softened. "I forgot, okay? I went to Flourish and Blotts to get you your bloody birthday gift and when I left, I ran into some adoring fans."

"What--"

"Our former school chums don't take kindly to my presence in Diagon Alley and, after our last little spat, I'd forgotten the warning they'd left me with." Malfoy's jaw tensed and he squinted up into the clouded sunlight. "They took it upon themselves to remind me."

Hermione balled her hands into fists to keep them from shaking. "Who?"

"It doesn't matter, Granger."

"Who?" She took a steadying breath. "Who hurt you?"

"I don't know. I vaguely recognized them from Hogwarts. It's fine."

It wasn't fine. It was categorically not fine. Malfoy was hardly the first of their class that had been on the wrong side of the war to be attacked. Harry had spent a significant amount of time trying to dispel such violent grudges and, to the best of her knowledge, it had been handled. Clearly, she was mistaken.

"We need to report this to the Ministry. Harry needs--"

"Absolutely fucking not." Malfoy gave her an indignant look. "The last person that needs to hear about this is Saint Potter."

"Malfoy, Harry's job is dealing with--"

"No, Granger. I said no."

"So what? Those nasty little insects just get to get away with it? No. I refuse. We didn't go to bloody war--"

"I was on the wrong side of that war, remember? So, yeah, we did go to war for this exact scenario to exist." He could see the lack of effect his words were having written across her face. "Granger. Please. I don't want this to become another of your crusades."

She reeled as if she'd been slapped. "Crusades?! Malfoy, it's about the injustice of it! You don't deserve to be attacked in the streets for something you did nearly ten years ago!"

"The court of public opinion begs to differ."

"Oh they'll beg alright," she snapped. At her genuine anger, his features softened and Malfoy gave her an unreadable look before looking away.

"You're such a fucking Gryffindor." He said it with an air of affection, though, and it helped to ground her back in the now.

"Thank you." Once more she placed her hand upon his bruised cheek and, to her surprise, he leaned into the touch. Her breathe caught in her lungs and she swallowed. "We--we should take care of that."

"It's just a simple spell. I'll handle it."

"No," she insisted and stepped away from him. "I will. It's the least I can do."

"This is hardly your fault."

"You went to Diagon Alley for me, remember?" She looked him up and down. "Speaking of..."

"I've been attacked and you're worrying over your stupid gift?" His tone was lighter than it had been since she'd ran into him.

"Of course I am. It's not everyday the evil Draco Malfoy buys you a gift." Hermione nodded to the Apparition point behind them. "Let's go."

"What about the Cafe? You can't honestly expect me to deny our Waitress her weekly opportunity to oogle at me." He gestured to his outfit: an expensive and perfectly tailored muggle suit that Hermione had forced him to buy after he showed up to their first meeting in robes.

"I've already been. It'd been weird to go back now. Besides, I think the bruise will overshadow your fancy slacks."

"Women like a man with scars."

She snorted. "It's hardly a battle scar, you git." when he gave her a pleading look, she rolled her eyes and looked around, to make sure they were alone. Satisfied with the lack of muggles, Hermione drew her wand and tapped it gently to his cheek. The static heat of magic bloomed between them and the ugly purple faded away, leaving his pale cheek unblemished once more. "There."

In the process of her healing, Malfoy had stepped completely into her personal space and the look he was giving her was heavy, deliberate.

"This isn't over, Malfoy. I'll find out who did this, with or without your help. They don't get to just attack you and get away with it."

"I'm hardly a weakling, Granger. I fought back."

"Good. It'll make them easier to identify."

"You're not going to let this go." It was not a question.

"No. I'm not."

"Why?"

"Because." She gave him a defiant look and he tipped her chin up with his hand. "You're my--"

"What? I'm your what?"

"Friend?"

"Is that all?" He was dangerous, but in a completely different way to the bully he'd been in their youth.

"That depends."

"On?"

"On what you got me for my birthday." She grinned and he laughed, pressing his forehead to hers a moment before pulling away and offering her his arm. She looped hers around it and let him steer them back in the direction of the Cafe.

After a lunch of finger sandwiches and tea, Malfoy finally handed her a perfectly wrapped gift that she immediately tore into. It was the latest book in a series on beasts that Rolf Scamander had been releasing, and it wasn't supposed to be out for another week.

"How did you get this?"

Malfoy shrugged, as if it was the least important thing in the world. "Money is an exceptionally good incentive."

"I love it. Thank you." She beamed at him and he cleared his throat as if it would distract her from the flush creeping up his neck.

"It's no big deal, Granger."

"To you maybe. It is to me. You know how I feel about birthday gifts." They both thought back to the spectacle she'd made of his back in June.

"I did fight for my life while I was out getting it." He grinned but the smile faded at the sharp look she gave him. "I'm joking, of course. Just a little fisticuffs, nothing serious."

"I'm sorry, Malfoy. I really am. You didn't have to go all the way to Diagon Alley for this."

"Sure I did."

"Just submitting your half of the report would be gift enough."

"Lucky for you I've done both. Besides, I'm sick of using that bloody report as an excuse to be around you." Hermione blinked, unable to process the weight of what he'd said. At the shock on her face, he shrugged again. "Come on, Granger. You can't possibly think I care about work this much."

"I--you--what?"

He leaned forward and captured her chin in his hand. "My fierce, naive little lion. You're horribly dense." Malfoy gave her a soft kiss on the forehead and pulled away. "Let's go before the Waitress gets jealous."

"But. What."

"I've rendered the great Hermione Granger speechless. I am truly magnificent." His laugh brought her to her senses and she launched herself across the table to kiss him.

"Sod the waitress."

She did, in the end, figure out who hurt him and in true Hermione Granger fashion, made them rue the day they laid hands upon someone she loves.