#mushroom chairs would be sick though

[sir-wizard-of-the-bog]

If you just saw me, a wizard wise beyond his years, get tricked by an ai generated image… no you didn’t

[murder-cookie-dust393]

Now, I would know better than anyone how a pianist works, so NO ONE can say I'm wrong. If you don't understand the following terms and concepts, that's fine because it's only there for detail and not the main events.

Birthday/Holiday fic of my latest obsession Crème brûlée

Ignored Duet

Synopsis: MC is a pianist on a train with a bunch of musician friends to go have a grand performance the day before the holidays. Yet MC shares a one-sided rivalry with Crème brûlée. But Crème brûlée doesn't like this rivalry, at all.

Words: 2.7K (rounded)

Tw: murder, poisoning, breaking into people's rooms, delusions, non-explicit violence, beheading, blood, Poison Mushroom is a hallucinogen dealer

You sighed and sat down on a chair in your suite. You were tired from settling down in your suite, after having to haul your luggage to the very back of the train. You really did love the interior of the train though, it was luxury. Even better, all your musician friends were on the train too! All of you headed towards the same destination for a big performance.

As a skilled pianist yourself, you were excited to have a special recital the Eve before the Christmas holiday. People were going to be cheering and complimenting you, it always boosted your mood. It made you feel worthy about yourself.

But of course, there was always someone who ruined everything. Someone who always stole the spotlight; someone who ruined your mood and self-esteem more than anyone else. That someone being none other than Crème brûlée cookie.

He was always the star of the show whenever he arrived. With his blank demeanour and introverted personality, he somehow, somehow got the admiring of others. What irked you the most was you yourself knew how perfect he got his technique to be. Every single articulation and note. You hated how he held the rigid, textbook-like principles to heart rather than the emotion itself.

You've eyed his sheet music before, dotted with neat handwriting and circles to perfection. It was as if his entire being was laughing at you for how perfect he could become at playing an instrument of keys.

Ever since you were young, you were praised for how emotional and artistic you could play. How dramatic the motions of your hands and tone were. How you could make people cry from the pure essence you carried.

But ever since you debuted, those compliments have grown fewer in numbers. Precisely because those praises were directed towards Crème brûlée. You knew the importance of technique and the technical parts of playing, but he was completely expressionless during his performances. He didn't shift himself to the sound of the melodies and harmonies, no, he didn't even move his hand like a feather to express lightheartedness. He was utterly rocky with his playing. Hardly any room for beauty.

And yet the people and the judges loved him for it. You hated him.

You sighed as you grabbed the blanket you brought along for the trip, snuggling underneath it. Your body absorbs all the warmth produced by the blanket.

For now, you aren't going to give a single fuck about this bastard.

——————————————————

Crème brûlée silently entered your suite, his eyes holding a look of swirling obsession. He approached the place where you lay, sleeping. He smiles and watches you, occasionally adjusting the blanket seated upon your body. You were more eye-catching to him than the girl with flaxen hair sir Claude composed dearly for.

But there was one thing he hated undeniably about you. It was the fact you mistook his obvious efforts. He wasn't trying to one-up you, no, he was trying to get close to you as much as possible. He didn't want to be enemies, he wanted to be the one glued to your side forever and ever. He craved the life his colleague Mint Choco had. A comfortable life with his other piece. Yet that damned one-sided rivalry you had for him divided him away from you.

He's tired of it. He's sick of it. He wants to yell at you, scream at you, rage at you that he's so sick of being seen as a villain. He knows better than to do that, of course. He simply needs to be more direct with his love it seems.

He leans in and pecks your cheek with the lightest of touches, his arms loosely resting on top of your body. His eyes lock onto your face for a solid moment before he stands up, taking out the note he had written for you. It was dotted with hearts and bunny stickers. Perhaps a bit childish for someone as sophisticated as he was, but he still thought it was cute.

He then left the suite with a little smile on his face, silently walking down the train hall with excitement bouncing within his mind. Fortunately, no one saw him, and no one noticed a single thing out of place.

——————————————————

You wake up after falling in and out of sleep for the last hour. You don't feel like getting out of bed, it's too comfy. But it's also boring just laying here, as you can't fall asleep anymore. You decide to grab the book you brought along with you. You sit up, reaching for the book titled, "How to Sell Poison Shroomies", until you see a note.

The note is dotted with hearts and bunny stickers, all the cutesy stuff you could imagine. But the contents of the note were odd. It was a treble clef, with some letters below it. In between the letters were a few blank spaces, and above those blank spaces were notes. It was very similar to the note-naming practice sheets you had to do as a kid.

Without decoding it, you tried to see what it said.

_ _ R L I N _ ! I T R _ _ L L Y T I R _ S M _ TO H _ V _ Y O U

I _ N O R _ M _ L I K _ T H I S. I W _ N T T O _ _ Y O U R O N _

_ N _ O N L Y L O V _ R!

You answered each blank, coordinating the note to its letter name. After decoding it, you read the message again.

DARLING! IT REALLY TIRES ME TO HAVE YOU IGNORE ME LIKE THIS. I WANT TO BE YOUR ONE AND ONLY LOVER!

You grimace, disgusted. A creep entered your suite and you don't even know who it is. What's worse is: that most of the cookies on this train were musicians of some sort. There was; Parfair, Black Lemonade, Mint Choco, Macaron, Carol, Rockstar, and that disgusting degenerate, Crème brûlée.

You sigh. Your life couldn't have gotten any more annoying.

——————————————————

Crème brûlée was excited as he went to the dining car for food. Even if he didn't change his avid poker face, he was still bouncing around inside. He decided to sit himself at the table next to yours, making sure to look nice and tidy. He can't be ruining himself after all! He needs to be perfect!

When he glanced himself over at you though, he felt a little discouraged. You look annoyed like something went completely wrong. He was a bit worried. Did someone make you feel bad about yourself?

He then spoke with a calm tone, "MC? What's wrong? You look a little out of it." He unmasked the poker face and made a little frown. He was trying his best to express his worry.

"Nothing. I just hit my leg earlier."

Your response was so harsh, so cold. He felt his heart drop and maybe break a little. Did you not see his note? He hoped you would finally change, but it seems you haven't! The horror! He turned back to his food, staring at it.

Was it the cutesy bunny stickers? Was it too much? He thought you wouldn't mind his little effort in trying to make it look nice. Unless...No, you possibly couldn't have, right?

He glanced over at Parfait and noticed the bunny charm in her hair. No, no, no! You must have mistaken his note as Parfait's! The gears in his mind whirl as he tries to think of another plan.

What if he gets rid of the possibility? If he gets rid of Parfait, then naturally you would think the bunny stickers were from him, right? It's just the process of elimination.

He smiles as he cooks up a way to terminate Parfait from your life. Permanently.

——————————————————

In the evening, everybody was having a little card party. A feisty round of Uno, with everybody screaming at each other in rage. A true act of comedy. That was until a blood-curdling scream came from Rockstar, who was on the way to grab something from Parfait.

"P-Parfait's been killed to crumbs!" Rockstar shouted as he pointed to the suite. Which was covered everywhere in blood, and her head rolled off to a corner of the room. A scene one too many levels gory.

Within moments cookies are surrounding Parfait's suite; disgusted, horrified, saddened, and all sorts of negative emotions. Even Crème brûlée looked scared. They all look at each other, trying to suspect a culprit. No one stood too close to each other, not even Carol, who was one of the nicest cookies ever.

Until you notice something odd about the crime scene. You notice the bunny charm that Parfait had worn in her hair earlier that day. It stared back at you, its cute smile plastered on its face. Surrounding the charm was a blood stain shaped into a heart.

Your heart freezes.

That bunny. That fucking bunny sticker on that note this morning.

The killer was awake and was prowling for you.

——————————————————

You couldn't sleep. You didn't know what to do. On one hand, you wanted to tell the others about your discovery, but the killer might come for you faster than before. Your only option was to wait it out until you arrived at your destination, playing a horrid game of survival. The biggest thing is that you need to find out who the killer is.

You take the note off the table, staring at it. You observe every line and curve of the sender's handwriting. It was neat, but messy on a few edges. You started to eliminate cookies in your head that you didn't think matched the handwriting. It couldn't be Carol or Macaron for sure, they had pretty and consistent writing.

Your only suspects remaining were Black Lemonade, Mint Choco, Rockstar, and Crème brûlée. You've seen Rockstar's handwriting before. It was god awful, literally a bunch of scribbles and lightning bolts. So it couldn't be him. Mint Choco wrote in cursive only, so you doubted it was him either.

You were left with two cookies now: Black Lemonade and Crème brûlée. You've seen Crème brûlée's handwriting before, on his sheet music. It was never consistent. Sometimes it was fabulous print and other times looked like a hurried cursive. But he was your enemy, and he would never spend time writing a cutesy love note. Although...you did remember hearing him get accused of murder last year's Christmas.

You don't think it's him. He's too much of a cocky bastard to care about such things. Then it could only mean...Black Lemonade.

It would make sense, considering they were at Summer Soda Fest together. Black Lemonade might of had a bad interaction with Parfait. But you need someone who was there to tell you if they knew anything about the event. Aha! Rockstar. He would know any tension between the two guitarists.

——————————————————

The next day, you discreetly knock on Rockstar's suite door. He opens the sliding door a minute later, managing to smile during these grim times. After seating yourself on a seat, you hold out the note to him, showing the offsetting love note you got.

"So yesterday morning, I got this note from someone. Do you see the bunny stickers? Well, Parfait had a bunny charm in her hair yesterday." You explain, emphasizing the shiny bunny stickers that were dotted all over the paper.

"Yeah, I noticed the bunny charm at the body last night. Do you have a suspect?" He answers, sipping on a can of soda.

"I do. But I don't know for sure yet. Was there any tension between Black Lemonade and Parfait?"

He hums for a moment, thinking. It takes a few seconds before he shakes his head, "Nah, not that I can remember. I don't think interacted a lot in the first place."

You freeze for a second. You stare at him before quiet mumbling, "No? Then that can only mean...No it can't be, I-" You blink, wondering if you should tell him, "Could it be Crème brûlée?"

He glances at the note again before shifting his eyes back to you. "I don't know him that well, but I doubt it. He's kind of...isolated. Plus, he never seemed malicious to Parfait."

"Then who could it be..." You grab onto the door handle, slowly opening it. "Well, thanks for helping. I need to find the killer soon."

As you leave his suite and head back to yours, your own intuition feels like something is off. The suspects and the handwriting weren't adding up right. Could it be someone not even a part of the passengers? That's a whole new gate of hell that you didn't want to enter quite just yet. You open the door and lay down on your makeshift bed. Letting the paper flutter to the ground.

You stared up at the ceiling for a moment, trying to suck out details from past interactions and your own knowledge. That is until you hear a creak. You look beneath your bed out of curiosity and see nothing. It was probably a squeak from the train.

"Do you like ignoring me?"

The voice made you flinch, you flip your head to see Crème brûlée standing there with a frown. How did he get in here? You had your door locked due to protocols.

"Crème brûlée? How did you get in here?"

"Stop ignoring me. I hate it." His voice is sharp, cutting through your question. He approaches you, picking up the note off the floor. He shoves it in front of your face. "I wrote this. Not Parfait, not Black Lemonade, not Mint Choco, not anyone but me."

Your body feels like it's encased in cement. You couldn't move as you stared at him with widened eyes. "You...killed Parfait?" Terror pounds through your veins. You back away from him, your back hitting against the wall. "Wha- Why would you do such a thing?" This was working out a lot worse than you had thought it would be.

"Because, you mistook my precious, my sweet and thoughtful note as Parfait's!" He suddenly exclaimed, a look of madness bouncing around his expression. "You were supposed to be loving me! I originally planned for us to nerd out on Brahms literature, but instead here you are trying to play detective for a worthless crime case."

For a period you couldn't respond, speechless from his words. What kind of delusional narcissist was he? Did he really believe you'll instantly fall in love with him after you realize the note was from him? Of course the fuck not! In a state of anger, you pounce on him. Hitting his face and shoulders as much as you could. But instead of pain or hurt, his face depicted laughter.

"Darling, darling, your hits won't work on me. My dough is a lot stiffer than you would think." He pushed you off of him, and before you could regain your footing he was hugging you tight, smiling. "No need to care now, they're all going to be dead soon."

In a state of rage and grief, you scream at him, "What do you mean them? Who? You heartless monster!" You struggle in his grasp, trying to wriggle away. He was right, he seemed to be much stronger than he looked.

"Oh, just a few poison shrooms in breakfast. A little kid told me to take some when I was rambling about my jealousy the other day." He caressed the hair on your head. This was the longest you've ever seen him smiling. "Don't worry, I calculated which plate would go to your suite so you aren't poisoned.

You've lost the energy to fight anymore. Your friends were all going to vanish soon. And you had no way to help them. On a train, in the stupid snow of the middle of nowhere. It was as if your own luck was laughing at you. The performance you were so excited about was just a mere side note.

"How could you? How fucking could you?" You mumble, feeling too drained to scream and shout at him. You didn't want to even look at this wretched murderer.

"Shh...I know you were so excited about the performance, I know. We can have our own little recital in the banquet car. Just you and me. I even brought a few duet books for us to sight read too." He giggled, kissing your cheek. "You know, bonding time."

You slumped down onto his shoulder, exhausted. Dead inside. What a merry holiday it was.

——————————————————

We're not gonna talk about the child with the mental capacity of a 9 year old driving the fucking train (Yes it's Poison Mushroom)

Dude writing this was literally digging a plot hole, and filling it. And repeat that 10 times. Anyway, hope you enjoyed!

I have to wait 2 more hours before my birthday presents- shit fuck.

- Celina

[chubbs-the-fish]

do you think Hornet could use her the light of her Soul as a lamp? and i wonder if any talented weavers can use Soul Silk like an Anglerfish's Lure? Imagine a catastrophy happens and all the lamps on the ship are broken, and after a few accidents, Hornet covering the ship in silk is a better option than open flame. picture Hornet Relaxing in a chair, threads spreading from her and pulsing with light. she gets extra rations to make up for the effort of course.

I believe in my notes I have Hornet carrying some powdered Deepnest mushroom (the little white glowy ones) that glows when it's rehydrated. She dunks some of the powder in her water canteen and uses that instead of a Lumafly lantern like Ghost if she really needs a little light to see.

I think my reasoning for this was that Lumafly lanterns were pretty sparse in Deepnest in game so other light sources had to be more common/not many beings there needed too much light to navigate. Lumafly lanters are also Hallownestian and were still extremely uncommon in Deepnest by the time of the fall of the kingdom.

It would be pretty sick for some weavers to do the light lures though!

[queerlordsimon]

Didnt know wherelse to go pt2

Prompt:

Looking up at the boys, swaying slightly as they’re close to passing out, mumbling “..didnt know where else to go…” the collapsing into their arms

y/ns sick, and after dark on a week off school, appears at the entrance of the boys dorms, before passing out.

Characters:riddle, ace, jade, vil, silver, floyd, rook, sebek

a/n: the first one was very highly received and liked, so i figured id do another one cause i dont have time yet again, but still wanted to write again

Heacannons below the cut

Riddle

He was finishing up making sure everything was taken care of for the next day, the unbirthday party, when you stumbled in.

He nearly scolded you for coming so late without warning, before taking a look at you.

He can immediately tell your sick, hes studying to be a doctor after all.

You mutter your line, before passing out onto the floor.

well actually he quickly slid to catch you, but he will never admit it and no one witnessed it

He picks you up and carries you to his room, so his noisy, nosey dormmates would leave you alone

He has the medications that you would need in his room, for studying, so hes all set.

Covers you with another blanket, sitting in the chair in his room.

Thats where youll find him when you wake up, though it seems hes dozed off.

Will nurse you back to health, while lightly scolding you, telling you to take better care of yourself and not to get sick again, cause he wont be taking care of you again

He totally will be though

Ace

Was on flamingo duty that day, so he was walking back to the dorm when he saw you stagger through the mirror

Highly concerned, but wont show it, teasing you

Until you pass out,

In which he rushes over to catch you before you hit the concrete.

Acts very similar to deuce, except more quiet about it all and reserved.

Takes you to his dormroom and props you on his bed, before quickly and quietly running through the halls, risking getting collared, to get trey

Trey does most of the healing work

But ace is sitting on the floor, next to the bed when you wake up, asleep, his back leaning against the wall.

When your both awake, hes entertaining you, showing you stuff on his phone, showing you magic tricks, all the works

If you try to bring up how sweet hes being, he will not admit to anything.

Will return to teasing and banter after your better

You return home with one of his sweaters cause he didnt have a better blanket to give you to take home

Jade

Was helping the other octavinelle students finish cleaning the tables in the lounge, when you stumbled in

He approached you to tell you they were closed for the night,

But before he could do that, you had already passed out.

Quickly caught you and quickly took you to a booth in the lounge

He tells everyone to leave for the night, which they do,

Hes definitely one of the ones to go the home remedies route.

If he can work mushrooms in he will

Covers you in a blanket he had in his room.

When you wake up, he isnt by you, but comes out soon after, with a mug of tea

Takes great care of you,

Sends you home with the blanket.

Floyd

Was lounging in the lounge after hours when you stumbled in

“Whatcha doing here shrimpy?”

# 4 that doesnt catch you

He does stare at you on the floor for a minute in shock,

Before picking you up and taking you to his room,

To the slight dismay of jade, but what can he do

Jade gets him the stuff to take care of you, before you wake up, and goes through the detailed instructions how to use them

When you awake he is also in the bed,laying right in your vision, smiling toothily

Gives you the medication, though he botchs the instructions, you know what to do

Cooks you food to help you get better

You leave with one of his jackets.

Vil

Was definitely walking around to check that epel was doing a good job with the windows, when you stumbled through the window

Raised an eyebrow and walked over

“Spudling, what are you doing here? And why do you look like death warmed over?”

Catches you.

Carries you back inside, and to his room

He sets you on the bed, while feeling your temperature

Since your freezing, hell cover you with a blanket before going to run a warming bath

Once thats done, hes actually one to awake you with a potion,

Just so you can quickly change into a swimsuit or clothing that didnt bother getting wet, so he could put you in said bath modestly.

You instantly pass out again once in his arms, so setting you in the bath was fine.

He in general took great care of you, while gently scolding you about making sure you didnt get sick again

He will send you home with more clothes, warming, and a new blanket

Rook

Almost like malleus, you didnt have to go all the way to the dorm for you to find him

He was actually outside ramshackle. Looking at the fish in the pond.

Is at first excited to see you, before getting a closer look,

Oh, and you passing out into his arms.

Easily picks you up and takes you back to the dorms

Hell get you set up in his room as well, and asks vil to help with getting the medications.

Gets you a warm blanket and bundles you up

When you awake, no matter what time, hes sitting in a chair next to the bed, wide awake and keeping an eye on you

He expresses his delight to seeing you awake

Nurses you back to health, and while hes gone when your naping, watching the other interactions on campus

Tells you all thats going on outside.

Sends you home with said blanket and *gasp* one of his hats

Silver

Hes asleep on the couch in diasomnia

But wakes up as soon as you come in

Asks you why your there, getting up carefully

What will this be, #5 that doesnt catch you?

To be fair, hes still half asleep when he had approached you.

Blinks sleepily for a moment at you before realizing

as soon as he realized, he picked you up and carried you to the couch, laying you down.

he knows his sleeping problem, so lets lilia know as soon as possible, so that if he wasent awake and you needed something, his father could deal with it.

he got the meds and whatnot to get you back to health, for when you awoke,

and then promplty fell asleep, sitting on the floor leaning against the couch.

woke up when you did, to check on you, and starting to help out.

makes you food.

ultimately great choice, you leave with a great cozy blanket as well

sebek

was doing his patrol outside of the dorm when you stumbled in.

runs over to ask you if you were here to see lord malleus,

catches you immediatly

i mean, of course his reflexes are good, hes training as a gaurd for malleus

bursts into the dorm, calling for lilia to help

is very honored you chose him

sets you up on his bed,

is very torn between helping you and guarding malleus

lilia assures him that you need him more right now

is there when you wake up, with a mug of tea that silver helped him make.

may be loud, but still fairly entertaining,

gives you a blanket, cause what kind of guard would he be if he let you get sick again?

—---------------------

thank you for reading! there will be a part 3, and you are super lucky, that a very close friend of mine wishes for me to add jamil to it, so i will, and will do my best not to let my bias ruin his part. (this is the only time youll get jamil content from me, if she requests, be thankful for her you simps) sorry i havent writen much, i have a ton lined up, but im very busy and then motivation is minimul. feel free to request though and i will get to those first!

-queer.lord

[goldencherriess]

Pairing: Healer! Stephen Strange x Fem! Reader

Summary: A rather famous name appears in Y/N's village. Desperate to keep her sister alive, she turns to the only man who can save her.

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: angst, illness, catcalling, drinking, Y/N being a stubborn, resilient main character, Stephen being his proud self, sexual tension, fantasy AU, no fluff this chapter!

Series masterlist || Main masterlist

Clare L/N had been sick for over a few weeks now, looking paler and paler by each day, painstakingly drawing in shallow breaths, sweat glistening on her forehead. At first, Y/N took care of her as far as her knowledge of medicine let her, which wasn't much. She would go into the forest surrounding their house, and gather herbs and mushrooms. Making tea and mushroom soup, she'd feed her bigger sister with great care, holding her head and tenderly wiping the corner of her mouth when things would get messy.

Clare was ten years older than her. And the only mother figure she ever had. She couldn't recall playing with her in the garden, or in the village's square. She only remembered her stirring in the pot, cooking, steam rising into the air and through the open window, sunlight bathing her in.

''Clare? Can you hear me?''

Her sister mumbled and groaned, turning her head against the pillow.

Y/N gingerly lifted her up to change the pillow, exchanging it with her own. It was soaked with sweat by now, yellow stains imprinting the once pristine white material.

''There's a glass of cold water on the bedside table, alright?'' She touched Clare's forehead, sighing when fiery skin made contact with her cold hand. ''You're burning up.'' she whispered, even though she was sure Clare couldn't actually hear her.

Y/N straightened her back and took in the disheveled sight of her sister, hair wet with sweat and spread around the pillow. She took in the sight of her cheeks drained of colour and her lips mumbling incoherent words. She almost didn't recognize her, thinking she was looking at a ghost.

She leaned down and kissed her forehead with trembling lips. ''It's alright, I'll take care of you.''

She didn't know how.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Eldershire was a village whose reality was only limited to the woods around it. It was a village of hunters and woodsmen. Of carpenters and woodcarvers. Of passing travellers and staying daydreamers.

Y/N wasn't either of those.

She was one of the few women who worked in Eldershire. Not that there were many jobs in the village. There weren't. But she took pride in being a working woman, waking up every morning with a purpose.

And she was lucky to be one. Meredith Fletcher was to be thanked for that. With fiery red hair and a kind smile, she gave her a waitressing job at her husband's inn, although she did a bit of everything there. Serving food, changing the sheets, helping in the kitchen. Y/N was little helper every time she was needed.

Which, lucky for her, was everyday.

The Tattered Bucket was the only inn in Eldershire.

With a wooden sign hung in front of the door, announcing its presence, The Tattered Bucket was an inn which always echoed with laughter and jokes. It always hosted daring adventurers, sharing their stories with the locals or with the inn owner, Darian Fletcher. When wiping clean the tables, she liked to listen in, dreaming of the day in which she'll leave the village and see the world with her own eyes.

Today was no different. Opening the worn out wooden door, Y/N was hit with a wave of laughter and glasses clinking in toasts. She made her way through the rows of tables and chairs, alcohol tickling her nostrils.

''Oi, pretty girl, how much for a night?'' a rather drunken man called out.

She ignored him, raising her chin, proudly.

''This is not a brothel. Pay and leave.'' another voice, this time more powerful, called out. Y/N turned her head to the right, her eyes taking in the sight of an angered inn owner. Darian Fletcher was a man in his mid thirties who looked younger than he actually was. With the hair of the colour of chestnuts and eyes as dark as the wood from the forest, he looked like a young woodsman, the kind that understands the wild. The kind that knows how to speak with it.

The drunk man mumbled something under his breath, but left a few golds on the table beside the empty pint.

''Good day.'' Darian saluted him with a straight face and a solemn voice.

The door closed with a thud after the drunk man, leaving a string of whispering behind. Darian uncrossed his arms, turning to Y/N with a welcoming smile.

She smiled back. ''Thank you, but I had it sorted.''

''The Tattered Bucket has honour, Y/N. I protect my workers.''

She raised her eyebrows. ''I'm your only worker.''

''Even more so.'' He pointed behind him. ''Meredith is in the back.''

Y/N nodded her head, before turning on her heels and marching towards the kitchens.

The kitchen door opened with a whine, a wave of rich aromas embracing her warmly. Light was streaming in through the painted windows, casting rainbows on the walls.

''Y/N! Good day!''

Meredith Fletcher was a woman of big stature. She was tall, taller than her and almost reaching her husband's shoulders. But despite her intimidating height, she always bore the warmest smiles and the kindest eyes.

''How are you doing, sweet cheeks?'' she asked while kneading the dough, her hands and arms coated in flour. ''How's Clare?''

Y/N just shrugged her shoulders, rolling up her sleeves and reaching for some flour herself. Meredith grew up with Clare L/N. They were the best of friends. Y/N couldn't remember much of their time spent together but she can recall the time she was given a flower by the redhead. It was a wild one, found at the edge of the woods, but it blossomed her day.

''She's getting better.'' Y/N lied.

If Meredith detected the lie through the words, she didn't show it.

''She'd better be up soon. We need another helping hand around here, don't we, love?''

Y/N turned to show her a smile, but the woman was focused on the dough, strands of red hair falling from the updo.

''Getting busy around this time of year.''

''Why?'' the younger woman asked.

''The Summer Festival is approaching. More travellers will stop at our inn. More travellers, more money. More work to do.'' she replied simply, as if the obvious was just in front of them.

Y/N hummed, turning to look at her own dough between her hands. She never saw The Summer Festival. Each year, it was held in the Revaria Kingdom's capital, in honour of the queen. Each year, lanterns filled the sky with light. And each year, Y/N missed them.

Y/N never saw them.

She never saw the world beyond the woods behind her house.

''Did you ever go to the Festival, Meredith?'' she inquired, turning to look at her friend.

The redhead stilled her moves, a dreaming, far away look in her eyes. ''Once. That's how I met Darian.''

The corners of Y/N's lips curled into a blossoming smile, but the door to the kitchen opened loudly, interrupting them. In the doorway stood a very stressed Darian, hair ravished, struggling to catch his breath. ''Stephen Strange is here.''

Y/N recognized the name, from fleeting conversations and whispers. Stephen Strange did this. Stephen Strange did that. Rumor has it he healed the queen once.

Meredith gasped, turning to wipe her hands on her apron. ''Did you ask what he wanted? Did he order anything?''

''He asked for what's best on the menu, Mer.'' a very starstruck and panicked Darian answered.

''That's Y'N's mushroom soup.'' she answered, turning to regard the woman in question. ''Isn't it, my dear? The best there is.''

Feeling her cheeks warm, Y/N opened her mouth to protest, but the redhead already turned her gaze to the inn owner. ''Serve that poor man some ale. He must be thirsty. And do bring Y/N some mushrooms from the pantry. She has soup to make.''

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The stark and spongy aroma of mushrooms was filling the whole kitchen by the time Y/N finished. She let the bubbly soup simmer for awhile before, putting some of it in a tin bowl with a ladle. She had the nature in a plate, steam rising into the air. She took hold of a shining, silver spoon, as well.

Inhaling to calm her nerves, she opened the door and stepped into the tavern, drawing out the noise. Looking over the sea of heads for some distinct features to point out the infamously Stephen Strange, her eyes caught sight of a rather lonely man, at a table in the far corner, hunching over his pint of ale. He looked sad at best, and Y/N found herself shocked at the pang she felt for this man.

Making her way to him, through the tables with a hot bowl in her hand wasn't something she didn't do before, but the nerves caught up to her, crawling up her back and leaving goosebumps in their wake.

''Your meal, sir.'' she said once she reached him, gently letting the bowl on the wooden table, along with the spoon.

Not taking his gaze from his glass, he replied in a thick voice. ''Thank you.''

She nodded her head, even though she knew he wouldn't see it. Turning to leave, she stopped in her tracks. Clenching her fists to gather some courage, she spoke. ''Are you Stephen Strange? The healer? The Sorcerer Supreme?'' Y/N turned her head to look at him. He was still bowing his head, not a sign of intrigue on his face. ''Do you heal people?'' she carefully continued.

He finally raised his head to meet her eyes and Y/N felt her breath catch in her throat. His blue gaze pinned her down, a stray of brunet hair falling onto his forehead. ''Occasionally.'' he answered evenly.

Gulping, she turned to look around, before gesturing to the seat in front of him. ''May I?''

He answered with a gesture of his own, inviting her. She sat down, now her gaze at the same level of his. The dim light threw shadows onto his face. ''Can you heal someone for me?''

Stephen arched an eyebrow. ''What's in it for me?"

Y/N felt her throat close up, eyebrows scrunching in worry. ''It's for a good price.''

Throwing the last of ale down his throat, Stephen let the glass clank against the table. ''I don't need your money.''

She leaned over the table in desperation. ''But you must want it, right? Who says no to money?''

Lightening crossed his gaze, his features hardening. ''Are you calling me avaricious?''

Embarrassment painted her features in three shades of red and her tongue tied itself in her mouth. ''I- No- I just-''

''Save it. I don't want to hear it. Now please leave.''

She stared at him in disbelief, before huffing and getting to her feet. ''Have a great meal, sir.''

''Thank you, I sure will.''

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Y/N's hands were trembling as they rummaged in the drawers in her bedroom. She tried to ignore the labored breathing of her sister, focusing on the task at hand. A clink of keys, some old fairytale book, before her hands met a familiar leathery material. She pulled it out, a pouch of golds now resting in her hands. The clinking of the pennies inside reached her ears in soft sounds. She straightened her back, before turning away, sparing a look through her sister's bedroom. She seemed to be asleep, her chest raising and lowering in an attempt to breath.

She turned her gaze away, before marching with purpose to the inn. She ignored the questioning looks she got from the villagers on the way there, before bursting through the door and into the tavern. Eyes catching sight of a now familiar brunet hair and striking blue eyes, she walked with rapid fire steps towards him, throwing the pouch onto the table and in front of him.

He raised his gaze to hers, confusion swirling in it. ''What's this?''

''My life savings. I'm paying you to heal my sister.'' she replied proudly, meeting his eyes head on.

He opened his mouth to protest, but she beat him to it, eyebrows furrowing. ''You may not need my money, but you sure look like you need the distraction. So, you either accept willingly or you'll accept after I make a scene.''

Stephen regarded her with a curious look, before a smirk painted his features. ''Your savings and an hour of your life.''

Y/N's gaze softened, confusion lacing her features. ''What?''

He got up to his feet, taking a step towards her. ''Your money and an hour of your life. That's the price of my services.''

She gulped thickly, taking a step back. ''What do you mean an hour of my life?''

''I could just take a year of your life...''

''No! An hour is fine.''

A genuine smile graced Stephen's features, as he raised his hand to seal the deal. Y/N interjected him in a venomous voice. ''Half of my money now, half after you heal my sister.'' And in a meek voice, she added. ''And the hour of my life now...''

Stephen tilted his head, before clasping her hand in his, shaking it lightly. She felt tiny under his gaze, as if she was stripped down bare to her soul. ''Deal.''

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A/N: That's the first chapter of my Stephen Strange fantasy fanfic! I hope you enjoyed reading it, let me know your thoughts!

If you'd like to be added to my main tag list or the series tag list, drop a comment or send me an ask!

Lots of love xx

Main tag list: @bohemianrhapsody86 @andreead

[heresathreebee]

Prince Paul I | Catherine the Great (miniseries 2019) || Free Choice: Teratophilia! 

Mermaid!Reader; 6.5k words (really got away from me, huh); NO BETA/ SELF- EDITED, Swearing, Pirates, Catherine The Great/The Great Crossover, Paul And Peter Are Brothers, Pervert Peter, Misogynistic Language, Mentions of Dismemberment, Cannibalism (mermaids eat humans), Fear Kink, Faux Zoology/ Mermaid Anatomy, Fingering, Manhandling, Amazon Position, Rough Sex, Loss of Virginity, No Contraception, Creampie

Previous Masterlist 🎃 Challenge Completed 🎃

The princes of the Russian empire were exactly the kind of spoiled brats one expects them to be. To toughen them up (or rather to provide the palace with a few weeks of peace), their mother Queen Catherine sent them to the now conquered Crimea. A former pirate turned sea captain for the Empress' glory gave the princes a tour of the facilities that would soon be available for tourism, which was currently only crudely made wooden rooms with glass windows on the floor to see the sea bed below. 

Peter, ever observant when he chose to be, pointed through the large viewing window on the floor and screamed, "am I going insane or does that fish have tits?!" 

The Captain (who felt as though he was living at the end of a noose since the princes' arrival) tried very hard not to roll his eyes at prince Peter's outburst. "Aye, your highness. There be mermaids about these waters. They mostly keep to themselves, and as long as you don't go hunting for them or otherwise antagonize them, they don't bother us much." 

"Have you fucked one?" Peter's hopeful face looked at his brother Paul, who had been sulking since before they left the palace. "How do we fuck one? Get your men to capture one so that we may fuck it." 

Again, the Captain reigned in his deep annoyance and tried to answer with only a hint of patronization beneath his wooden smile. "Yes, your highness, technically you can fuck them– but they are extremely vicious and vengeful predators of the ocean who bow to no crown, not even yours, your highness."

He continued as another of the creatures swam across the bottom of the bed, shimmering tail flicking light all around it. Paul watched it snatch a blinded fish that came too near with nearly human hands and bite its head clean off. He flinched and held his stomach as he became suddenly queasy. 

"–If'n you were to pursue them, there is only one mermaid who likes to trade with us. If you give her something of value– preferably shiny– you may ask a favor of her." 

"To fuck her, you mean?" Peter demanded. "That will be no problem, women love me!"

"Surely, your highness." The Captain nodded at one of his underlings who removed a glove, revealing not one but three missing fingers. "But know this: she is no woman, she is a beast. And every man who has fucked her usually loses more than he bargained for. A few fingers, a chunk of their flesh, their cock. She's what we here call… a biter." 

…

Paul was still queasy over luncheon while Peter relayed in exorbitant detail the many gruesome disfigurements of the Captain's men. "There is a man who is missing the head, Paul! The mushroom tip of his cock bitten clean off! A-and you see that fucker there! He is missing half of his cock. That's why they call him Halfcock! The Captain called the bits that the mermaid took from the men trophies." 

Disturbed, Paul pushed out of his chair hurriedly. "I am deeply sick and you are not helping. For God's sake, Peter, there are plenty of human whores for you to fuck, stop obsessing over the fish girl! And get away from me!" 

Paul ran away and tried to rest his sickness away… but though he screamed at Peter, he was not as immune to the mermaid as he pretended to be. Half fish, half woman, all predator. Paul’s favorite bedtime stories were always about mermaids (and when he hit puberty, the court girl who read him the stories was used for more than just her voice to put him to sleep). Even now, he feels his cock twitch thinking about it– about the Trader, even if it would be stupid to dare a monster with such intentions. 

Yet as poor Paul slept, he dreamed of the princess he was betrothed to– the girl who broke his heart in two– swimming to him as he drowned in the water and giving him the kiss of life. And he was sad and aching with need when he woke up alone to the reality that she had betrayed him. In his need to feel something other than sadness (if only for a little while), Paul found himself asking Halfcock where he could go to trade with the mermaid. 

The man raised a single eyebrow but guided prince to an open grotto anyway, where all sorts of beautiful gems glistened along the cave walls. “Water’s always cold. You’ll need to swim to that rock in the middle and wait. Remember your highness that she is not a servant of your kingdom and does not recognize your authority– she may never come at all.” 

Paul sighed at the stupidity of his own plan. “Very well. And if she tries to kill me?” 

Halfcock shrugged. “Mermaids drag men to their deaths at the bottom of the bed. You’d be dead before any one of us could help you.” 

“Oh! Well that’s good to know,” the prince replied sarcastically. “You may as well leave me then.” 

Once he was alone, Paul divested himself of his boots, wig, stockings and doublet, edging into the freezing water and swimming the short distance to the small, half submerged perch to sit and clutching his treasure in his hand like a lifeline. This was beyond foolish. He may only be the second son– the spare to the heir– but he was still important and higher than nearly any other in the line of succession. But here he was acting just as idiodic as his dumb older brother. No, worse! Because even Peter had heard how he might be disfigured or killed and chose self preservation over fish fucking…

Paul realized he could see eyes looking at him from under the water and nearly pissed himself (nearly). The creature was a hundred times more frightening without the protection of land or glass to keep him safe, and she– you– were more silent in the water than any known predator on land. 

It made his cock twitch in his breeches. 

Paul whimpered accidentally as he stared back at you. The glassy still surface of the grotto's pool did not allow much of the weak candlelight to penetrate deeper than four or five feet below the water, so most of your eerily inhuman form was in shadow. You were unmoving yet you floated nearer and your eyes never left his. Though he knew better, he still held himself stiff as a rock as though it might trick you into thinking he is not prey (while behaving exactly as prey would). 

The tension in his body was making his muscles ache and Paul tried his hardest to end this horrible staring contest. With a perfectly weak and trembling voice, he announced, "I have come to trade…" 

He scolds himself in his head– could you hear or even understand him from the depths?- but evidently you heard something as your tail flicked (his only indication being a second of shimmering that appeared behind you from the errant black of the water) and then you began to circle him. 

It did not put him at ease. In fact, quite the opposite, for as soon as he could not turn his head to see you anymore, he whipped around and floundered, fearing he had lost sight of you and you were no doubt attacking him. But no! You still swam, unhurriedly around him like a shark circles its prey (or so he had heard from many a sailor's tale on the way to Crimea). 

Paul clutched the cross in his hands tighter and began to pray. And that is the only time your eyes left him– a glint of human greed shining past the animal hunger. You edged closer to him and Paul scrambled away as much as he could having trapped himself on this rocky outcrop. 

"Ah-ah!" He held the cross before him as protection but far from your reach below the water. "Enough of this awful game! I know you can speak, devil, so do it plainly. You'll get nothing if you do not cease this, this intimidation!" 

Finally, finally, your pretty humanlike head breached the water and you rolled your eyes in annoyance (something he imagines you learned from humans, possibly the Captain himself). Your arms crossed and you motioned with a brief gesture for him to sit before you swam a little closer but kept your distance. You seemed weary of his legs as he siat back down, and it gave him some ease knowing if you decided to make a meal of him and simply take his treasure, you would at least not enjoy being kicked. 

"Tell me what you have to trade," you bark at him in a clear, commanding voice, "and I will decide if it is worth something. Only then may you ask me for your favor." 

Your predatory eyes narrow. "And do not think you can trade one human object for another in my collection. It has already been asked by a dozen others, and I pick my teeth with the bones of the arguers." 

Paul shivered at the implication (and grew hard again). "I am Prince Paul of the great empire of Russia, the first of his name, son of the Emperor Peter the Third and Empress Catherine who-calls-herself–the-Great." 

You rolled your eyes at his title but Paul assumed you were rolling your eyes at his mother's title (as he thought you should). And he continued, "and I have brought you this…" he held aloft the larger ornate silver cross, "it was the cross used at my christening when I was a babe. Mother had a new one made for each of her sons to keep. My brother tells me I used to chew on it when I was teething to cut my teeth out." 

"It was– it is important to me," he finished at last. 

Heartless creature that you are, you raised an eyebrow and held out your hand boredly. "Your sentiment is endearing, but not of value to me." 

Paul's grip on the cross tightened again and he scoffed at your outstretched hand. "Then it is made from purest silver and encrusted with twenty rubies, four emeralds, four sapphires, and see here– " he pointed to the yellow gem situated at the apex of the center where all the beams meet, "two citrines. One of each side. It holds greater value than anything you might have rotting in your sea drown collection." 

For a moment, your eyes darkened, but Paul held strong and you dropped your hand into the water with an irritated splash. "Fine! I accept your trade. Now give me this cross and think hard about what you will ask of me." 

He handed it over and was shocked when you disappeared beneath the water, whipping around so fast that a tornado of bubbles formed in your wake and your tail fin nearly slapped him across handsome his face. For a moment he sat there, stunned, but he had never heard anyone talk of the mermaid robbing a man blind before, so he waited for you to come back. And sure as the briny water was cold, the predator returned and you leaned against the rock some distance behind him. 

"Now. What do you want of me, little prince?"

There was a knowing look on your features, or perhaps it was anticipatory, instead. How many men had the princes met who had missing parts of their genitals because they could not resist the allure of sex with such a fantastical beast? 

It's not like Paul has been very good at hiding himself…

"Go on, little prince," you purred somewhat menacingly, "ask me for your favor." 

Why did you take flesh from some of your trades? The question had plagued him harder the more he learned about it. If you disagreed with the value of the favor, would you not simply turn it down? You are very good at rolling your eyes. And you sounded and seemed far too powerful to be forced to give in to anything. 

Paul chose his words carefully, something he could back out of if he chickened out (which he knows he should). "... I wish to… study you." 

At that, you turned your head sideways like a dog (did you know what a dog was? Actually, you've probably eaten one if he recalls a few stories from the sailors). "Study me?" 

"Yes, for…" what was he going to say, science? Yeah, right, "there are hundreds of stories about mermaids that are nothing more than queries. What they look like and what they do, speculating if you have souls or if they were lost. I… want to ask you questions and… touch you– i-if that's not too much to ask!" 

You made a contemplative hum before slipping back into the black water. Paul can see you gliding through the cold below, circling him but this time in thought. You breached the surface and floated along on your back. Paul had a view of the entire length of you from tail tip to head, and it made him shiver again. 

Your tail was different from the depictions of the mermaids in the Grecian vases he has at home. It was longer than human legs would be but not by too much, and it had a similar thickness to your upper half, with a pair of small fins along the underside. The big caudal fin at the end of your tail is wide and broom-like, and there were rays of fins spanning the length of your sides and another taller and spinier fin on your back side.

So distracted was he by your decorated tail that he only caught a glimpse of your hard nipples before you were rolling over onto your belly and swimming back past him. There was a cat-like grin on your lips that made him blush down to his chest. 

"I agree to your favor, little prince," you reply. "And when your questions grow dull, I will answer you no further." 

Paul gulped and nodded his head, wishing he still had his cross or something for his hands to fidget with other than using them to cover his interested manhood. 

"Do you have one? A soul, I mean?," he asked. 

In reply, you shrugged and carried on with your lazy float, flipping from your belly to your back and giving him a good view of your whole body from closer than he had before. "I don't know." 

From here, Paul can see your scales don't align with the iridescent shine they give off. They refract light more like opals rather than the glint of mail armor but they must be as hard as teeth bones judging by the look of your scars and they seem to get softer towards your human half.

Paul bit the inside of his cheek, a little annoyed by your lame answer. "Were you born this way? Some say mermaids are human girls who drown at sea. Do you remember your life on land? Or when you drowned?" 

Your hum echoed like a pretty note running over and over in the flooded grotto. "I have no memory of another life on land, only this one I have in the sea." 

Well, it was not not answer. "What do you eat? Fish, I surmise." 

You smiled wickedly. "And men. You taste better the harder you scream and fight to live." 

Paul's cock twitched under his hand not despite but because of the obvious threat–  and you fucking notice– eyes dropping low as if you sensed the disturbance in the water. It only served to make him feel queasy and rush more of his royal blood to his cock. Your impish grin only widened.

"Do you want to touch it, little prince?" 

"Y-your tail, you mean?," he stammered. 

"If you like," you shrugged non-chalantly.  

Inching closer, your tail flicked close to his hand. It was so close that he could see at the end, where the tail thins between the base and the caudal fin, that there are half a dozen small spines running along the bottom, probably used for hunting or self defense. One powerful swipe could cut flesh into a jagged half. 

And he touched them, careful not to nick himself lest you decide he would make a good meal after all. He took his hand and petted along your scales. Paul gasped as his hand glides right over your slippery tail, completely unable to get a hand hold even as his fingers nearly touch at its thinnest. 

"You're slimy!," he exclaimed in wonderous awe and a tiny bit of disgust. 

"Thank you," you replied, and drew yourself into another lazy float, this time across his waterlogged lap to give him more to touch. "It's a sign of health." 

He petted you again until just your tail remained close and he drew his scrutinous gaze over the fin ray on your side. The gelatinous parts are a soft ray fin, he realized, but longer and spined near your hips. He theorized that the soft ray reacts like whiskers to keep you from getting your fins caught in nets or other animal's jaws. 

Very gently, he ran a finger along the soft ray and watched powerful muscles flex beneath the body of your tail and twitch reflexively away from his touch. 

"Fascinating," Paul whispered as you slip back into his lap. The prince gently hooked an arm behind your waist to keep you near and you responded by sitting up and planting yourself there. "Do these help you make tight turns?" 

He pointed to the ridge where your side fins were spined. "I think so? I knew a girl– or a fish, as you call me– who had none. She struggled in the Great Open Salt, but she lived to be fat and happy in the Green Shallows. Not so many predators to escape and lots of places to hide." 

"An estuary, you mean." You gave him a confused look and he explained as he continied to stroke your tail, "it's where saltwater meets and mixes with freshwater from the rivers. Briny blue water turns a brackish green and there's less salt, different species. Does that mean you can swim upriver? Acclimate in an estuary like a sturgeon or a trout and survive in fresher waters? Or was she perhaps a different species of mermaid?" 

You shook your head. "No. Only fools swim up river. I hear the water is good but different, the food is unlike anything else, but it is far too dangerous." 

"But what makes it dangerous?," he asked and you lifted your chin silently. "Oh. Men." 

You folded an arm over his shoulders and your eyes fell to his petting hand. He watched too, out of questions for the moment and hoping that you cannot feel the press of his manhood under you. He was right about your scales, they were hard beneath the slime but near your belly they were softer– a lot softer. The flexible fins there slapped at him when he tried to examine them and he went back to petting. Then his hand swiped just a little harder over the apex of your tail and something new caught his eye. 

A slit, but this one seems natural and deep unlike the scars and abrasions on the surface of your body. Paul set his fingers to the sides and tried to pry them apart, catching a glimpse again of unscaly flesh. You don't seem to mind his curiosity, in fact you seem deeply amused by it. 

Paul nibbled on his bottom lip before he adjusted his hold so he could use both hands to explore this unique part of your anatomy. The slit is guarded by the fin pair, flexing at his touches but not attacking him yet, and thinking back to the diagrams of normal fish anatomy… he had some clue as to what may lie between…

But that would be silly! As neither a full woman nor a full fish, this thing could be anything! And he knew he probably should not just stick his finger in it, but given you hadn't pulled away or bitten him yet, he figured… well… 

A exploratory finger pressed into the slit and rubbed up and down along it. There was a fleshy bump at the top of the slit and a hole at the bottom. His finger slipped into the hole all the way down to the knuckle and his gaze flitted uncertainly to yours. 

"...you don't need this to breathe, do you?" 

Your chest expanded and fell like a deep sigh. "No. I have breath sacs like you that I sometimes use for buoyancy and my gills are here," you pointed to the small series of ridges under your arms. 

Paul absentmindedly curled his buried finger and began to sweat. "...so… what is this, then?" 

He slipped his finger out until the first knuckle before delving it back in a little deeper and felt your muscles twitch around him, feeling around with his thumb for that bump again. 

"The way you are playing with it tells me you know exactly what it is," you replied hotly. 

Now the cold of the seawater could not be felt by the prince, for his body flushed white hot down to his toes and he whimpered pathetically. His fear rising only served to make him stupider as he pulled his finger out only to gently stuff it back in with the accompaniment of another, longer one. Your channel twitched and something decidedly hard pressed up against his knuckles once his hand was fully seated again. 

"Oh," he says dumbly. "Your cunt…" 

The glittery end of your tail flicked and splashed water over his back. Paul barely noticed as he gazed at your face, completely dumbstruck despite knowing that other men have come to you for that exact reason. He felt unable to pull away or move for fear of waking from this perfect and nightmarish dream. 

"Can I… may I…" Paul swallowed the drool that threatened to spill from his slackened jaw. "I won't ask if it will offend you and get my head removed." 

And why not his head? There was a sailor missing his entire hand. Paul asked a dozen times how you could have fit it all into your mouth to bite it off at the wrist, but the sailor was traumatized and he had seen the way your body shifted between the water and the air. The fins behind your ears melted like a mirage when you held it out of the water. For all he knew, you could probably unhinge your jaw too… 

"I think it is my turn to explore you, little prince," you replied instead, and slipped quickly out of his grasp. 

Leaving him to hiss and look at the stinging, shallow cuts about an inch long on the backs of his fingers. Stranger… he must have caught them on your scales or something… 

The feeling of human-ish hands on his thighs made him spread his legs– and then promptly try close them around your neck by accident. You startled him! There was indeed webbing between your submerged fingers that hadn't been there before, fins just behind your ears and glittering scales on your forehead. You glared meaningfully at him and shoved his protective hand away from his groin, revealing what you always knew was waiting and begging for your touch. 

You pulled the ties of his breeches with practiced ease, and Paul nervously sank lower into the water, bringing it up to his collarbone instead of his chest to give you more access. 

Which you should have less of given you're literally a creature he knows is responsible for biting men's cocks off, and yet here he is presenting himself to you. Perhaps the siren's song is not a song at all but a man's idiocy. 

Paul's gasp quickly turned into a moan upon feeling the slimy cold touch of your webbed hands on his stiff cock. It only made him harder the way you turned your head, your expression was harder to read given the presentation of your less human features but he pretended you were impressed by his length and girth. 

His fast coming breathes rippled the water and muddled his view, but he thought he saw your head draw closer to his cock until he felt an unexpectedly warm swipe of a tongue on the sensitive frenulum of his mushroom tip. 

"No, stop!" 

Paul scrambled back, trying to get as far up and out of the water as he could (which was futile, the topmost part of the rock barely breached the surface and only in one by one feet squared). You flicked your tail in annoyance and rose your head above the water, waiting silently for an explanation. 

"Please," Paul held his manhood protectively close to his body, "d-don't bite it off. I'm very fond of my cock and I would like to keep it… for when I have a wife someday…" 

Acquiesce. You rolled your eyes again and dipped dramatically back into the water. Paul feared a moment that you were going completely away, until you reappeared far closer than he was comfortable with. 

"Have you finished in your exploration then, little prince?" Your tail rolled languidly below you, fin spines arched at the ready. "Have you no more questions to bore me with?" 

“No wait!” Paul attempted to chase after you when you slipped back into the depths of the black water below. He watched your tail ghost between the rock and tried to follow you from above, shouting above the waterline, “it’s self preservation! You don’t seriously think I haven’t seen what you’ve done to the sailors here, have you? I am… I’m desperate, not stupid!” 

A splashing behind him had him tripping, falling to his knees and turning his head in shock. You looked at him thoroughly amused. “I think you are both.” 

Paul’s jaw dropped in offense. “I beg your pardon–” 

The princes’ moment of bravado ended abruptly as you began to slither towards him. “Go on then, little prince. Beg.” 

If he weren’t already kneeling, he would have fallen to his knees. As it happens, he has nowhere to run or hide from you as you crawl closer and closer. His teeth chatter as you come face to face and slide an arm around his neck, your upper body slotting against him and soaking clean through his drenched thin cotton shirt and rubbing your scaly slit over his ruddy cock. 

“Please…” Paul gulped and his eyes fixated on your lips. 

“Do not kiss me,” you command, “a mermaid’s kiss is powerful magic and you will not find it so easy to take. Ask the men with missing faces.” 

Paul shuddered and pointedly rubbed his nose on your cheek leading up to your ear. “May I kiss you elsewhere?” 

“... you may.” 

Paul wasted no more time and latched his lips to the soft skin behind your ear. His mind floated on a gentle wave and was unaware of your maneuvering both of your bodies so long as you kept his head above water. It was odd– from your smell to your taste was sea salt and animal, your flesh soft and human and slimy, tough scales are cold. Yet when he leans his nose near your ear, you smell of summer and when you held him tight against your chest, there was a hint of warmth that seeped back into him. 

And your cunt was scorching like a lit hearth. 

“What are you…” Paul slipped from his dreamy exploration to find himself held firmly with his back against the flat of the rock and your hand wrapped around his cock at exactly the moment you pushed his head into your slippery cavern. “Oh, that.” 

Chuckling, you took more of him, your walls clung to his cock invitingly and sucked him up greedily. His mouth opened uselessly and he gasped for breath as he bottomed out. Scorching, just like it had been around his fingers.  

"Fu-ck," his voice got stuck in his throat as you started to move. 

You hummed. "So pretty like this. Completely at my mercy and loving it." 

The prince's hands fumbled for purchase, needing to ground himself. They settled between your shoulder blades and his face turned scarlet when he realized the position he was in. Aside from the rough limestone at his back, you are the only thing holding him up, hands gripping his ass firmly as you move. 

He is the one being fucked– he is the one being used for your pleasure. And yeah, he loves it. 

You watched Paul leaning to the left distractedly and giggled. "What are you doing?" 

"Your tail…" Paul dug his teeth into his bottom lip watching you work. Your thrusts were powered by a rhythmic rolling motion starting at the weaponized end of your tail and rising swiftly up to your hips. The muscles are clearly stronger and it's fascinating and brilliant and "you won't tire as quickly as you would using your upper body in the water." 

You blinked at him and he frowned. "I've been talking aloud, haven't I?" 

"It's uhm, it's cute." 

"Yes well," he sputtered, "can you fuck me faster? Or just… t-take what you need. I want to feel you squeeze me." 

He hoped h was making sense because everything he knew about sex, he had to learn from Peter's unstoppable bragging, not experience. He grunted when you started moving again, faster, hips bludgeoning against his and winding him. 

"Like this, little prince?," you purred. 

Paul whimpered and tried to hold off the incessant throbbing in his loins. He had been dying to know about this female orgasm business Peter once talked about. His toes curled and he tried to imagine anything else except this favorite fantasy playing out before him. 

"Are you close, matuschka?," Paul's voice was pleading, his lip worried until blood welled and your eyes darkened instantly, your tongue lapping it up as quickly as it appeared. "I-I don't think I can take much more." 

His words were choppy from your harsh movements and his hands gripped the sides of your face. You snatched his wrists and pulled them down until he held palmfuls of your chest. Around his cock, your cunt twitched more and more frequently, he can only hope it means you nearing your end. 

"Touch me, little prince," you commanded. 

Paul moaned as he squeezed your tits. This was more familiar to his fantasies. His pruned fingers plucked at the hard buds and rolled them gently and squished them flat until you were growling and locked your arms around him. 

Paul gasped just before he was pulled under the water. He held his breath with his heart pounding in his ears and tried not to assume the worst. Then his attention was ensnared by the repetitive and quite delicious choking feeling your cunt gave his buried cock.  Wave after wave, Paul's eyelids fluttered and he was reminded of his brother's description. 

'It feels like lots and lots of tiny, warm hugs.'

Peter had never mentioned the feeling of hard nubs like smooth rocks clutching at the base of his cock. They were just beyond the entrance of your cunt, the muscles behind them seemed to have a mind of their own. 

But then Paul felt his lungs screaming for air and he chuffed a torrent of bubbles into your face. You blinked at him and released him, pulling him back to the surface and holding him up to set him back on the rock top. 

"Fuck," Paul gasped. Air had never tasted sweeter to him. He rubbed at the salty water that invaded his eyes and began to turn the cornea pink. "Fuck, that was magnificent." 

You flicked your tail sheepishly while he was distracted, feeling a small amount of conflict building in you. You hadn't meant to pull him under, you were too overcome by your orgasm to release him as your body seized pleasurably. But he wasn't angry, nay, he was elated! And still full of so much energy…

"You did not spill your seed, little prince? Most men feel so good that they finish, too," you say, deliberately leaving out the part where only a few cared to make you feel good at all. 

Paul dropped his hand from his eyes with a splash and gave you a big, dopey grin. "I held it off! I have never felt a woman like this before, and I didn't want to be distracted by my own pleasure." 

Never felt… "are you a virgin, my little prince?" 

The lilt of your voice was teasing and Paul's pretty milky complexion once again tipped rosey. "Well I'm not now…" 

His quiet rebuttal caused you to laugh– though not maliciously. "Oh dear..." 

You sat yourself between his spread legs and held his face in your hands. "You have been so good for me, little prince." 

"Tsarevich," he corrects you. "In my mother tongue, I am the Tsarevich." 

"If you like, Tsarevich." You leaned in towards his throat and scraped your teeth over his pulse point, causing him to shiver. "You can try to finish one more time." 

Paul's head started to spin as you left him alone again. His cock has been so hard since the beginning and the water wasn't getting warmer. He needed you, needed to be closer to you. 

A giant splash made him turn his dizzy head. He found you had leaped into a shallow side pool, rolling onto your back and beckoning him over. The prince stood on shaking legs and threw off the rest of his clothes. He jumped back into the water to swim to you, feeling his gut flutter again as your caudal fin brushed him from knee to chest. He climbed the rocky wall and sighed in relief having finally left the frighteningly black water and a more safer ground. 

"Still worried about losing your cock, Tsarevich?" You smiled slyly but offered him no reassurance. 

He straddled your tail and crawled on hands and knees up your body. "Are you sure? I'm not pushing for too much?" 

Paul dipped his head down and stuck his tongue out to drag it across your puffing slit, filling his mouth with saltwater and slime. At last, he sat on your hips and watched your eyes flit hungrily to the leaking ruddy cock pointing at you. 

Soft waves of water lapped at your bodies as Paul grasped the base of his cock and pushed the tip back into your stretched hole. Watching him moan in satisfaction as he bottomed out and his whole face go slack with peace. 

"So good…" Paul’s hips stuttered, trying to push himself as deep into your cunt as he could. “Feel like hot velvet.” 

“Go on then, Tsarevich,” you said, panting slightly, “fuck this velvety cunt.” 

Paul couldn't help all of the little whimpers and grunts that scratched out of his throat. He giggled in surprise when the little pair of flexible fins latch onto his thighs, wanting to keep him close. His hips moved arhythmically, unsure of what to do and how to do it. With just a little guidance, you get him to settle into a more effective position so he can thrust more easily without straining himself. He was pretty like this, using you like his toy but gently, like you were a beloved one. 

"That's perfect, Tsarevich." 

His cock glided in and out of your walls with ease, unhurried as he savors the moment for just a little longer than most virgins do. His thick head bumped a spongy spot deep inside you that caused your tail curl over his back. His arms shook as cold droplets pelt between his shoulder blades and he was once more reminded that you are not human. 

The prince was too inexperienced or completely unaware that the polite thing to do would be to ask where he could spill his seed, but you wanted it deep inside you anyways. When he came, he whimpered pathetically and his eyes rolled back into his head. You were caught by surprise by your own orgasm washing over you and milking his royal manhood of all its seed until he fell against your chest, gasping. 

You cradled him in your arms and ran your fingers through his copper locks. "Well done, little prince," you praise and stroke the apple of his cheek. "Was the trade completed to your satisfaction?" 

Paul nuzzled against you, and his tongue slipped out to flick one of your nipples. "Yes. I would take you home, matuschka, if the journey was not so long and you did not need a body of water to survive it." 

You hum sadly. "Pity that."

…

Paul stumbled into the Captain's quarters for supper on shaking legs. He could not wash the smell of sea water from his hands but it mattered not– everything here smelled of sea water. He sat heavily in the last empty chair at the table and dug ravenously into dishes of pork pies and pierogies and sweetmeats. 

"Hungry are we?," the Captain said cautiously. 

Paul grunted in acknowledgement and shoved a fistful of shredded crab meat and melted butter into his mouth. He hadn't eaten anything the previous night and felt savage for it. Peter stared, the Captain stared, even the servants and the few guests invited stared at him. 

"What?," his muffled curse was met with many glances away, but not from his brother Peter. 

"Halfcock said you were with the fish girl," his brother finally said. "Seeing as there would be no reason to go other than to fuck her, I can't understand why you're not writhing in pain from having your cock mutiliated. Aha hah, perhaps you did not know where to put it!" 

Some of the guests laughed nervously (it was rude but as the heir apparent, the Tsarsevich, Peter was of higher status and needed to be pleased at all costs). The Captain could not wipe his look of suspicion and disbelief from his face. 

Paul rolled his eyes. "I know where to put it, and put it, I did. And do you know what I discovered? It was marvelous! And really, Peter, it was a simple solution: she can hardly bite my cock off if she doesn't put it in her mouth, can she?" 

It was hardly the most vulgar thing said at the table but the room became eerily silent and some silverware clattered to the floor. This time, Paul stopped all shoving of food into his mouth and looked around at all of the shocked and uncomfortable faces around him. "...what?" 

"Oh my god, you don't know… you didn't know?!" Peter clapped his hands merrily and laughed until his sides hurt. "That is fucking fantastic! Paul, you stupid fuck! The sailors didn't lose their cocks from the teeth in her mouth." 

Paul's stomach gurgled uncomfortably. "W-what do you mean?" 

A highly amused Peter slapped his hand on the table. "All those fucking lessons in the palace and you didn't realize. Mermaids have vagina dentata! Do you know what that means, little brother? It means she has teeth in her cunt!" 

Paul blanched instantly. The scratches on his knuckles… the weird pressure he felt squeezing him at your entrance… it couldn't be true. 

The man was so gobsmacked about his brush with death that he didn't notice when all eyes turning to the opening door in complete terror. he didn't notice anything was amiss until a cool body plopped down in his lap and the smell of summer and seasalt washed over him. 

You… hair still dripping, wearing nothing but a scratchy, open white shirt caked in salt clusters from extended submergence, fucking legs underneath you. His hand fell to your knee to make sure it was real and felt human skin with a little protective layer of slime covering it.

And you simply plucked a sweetmeat from a nearby plate and popped it onto your tongue while everyone watched. "Hello again, Tsarevich. Captain." 

Paul sputtered and shook against your body until you tilted his head to make him look in your eyes. "What, the legs? It is a simple magic, easily undone if you miss my tail so much. I believe you promised to take me to your home." 

The Empress was going to kill him. It was the last thought that crossed his startled mind, and Paul fainted on the spot.

Previous Masterlist Thank You For Celebrating Halloween With Me!

Holy shit I did it I finally posted this 2 weeks late but it's out there it's out of the bag. I'm so proud of myself for completing this challenge and I hope to get more fics like this posted if not for the fandom than for myself. If you stuck around to the end or were only interested in this one, thank you for reading and I hope you were thoroughly entertained 🧡

[eevee-eclair]

Heyhey it me again, back at it with the angst. Specifically based on THIS and THIS art by @daddy-dingus (if they want me to take it down I will)

I saw the first art and thought “oh, let’s write that”. But then I remembered the second and my brain decided to connect them up. So! Have this!

Not Afraid

Tws: body horror, crying, blood, mushrooms/fungi, a crossbow, torture, kidnapping (tell me if I missed one)

—

Scar held his crossbow tightly, trying to hide his shaking hands. He grit his teeth, failing terribly to hide the tears on his face and the fear in his eyes. Mother Spore’s empty sockets bore into him, his permanent smile never wavering.

He sucked in a breath and took a—hopefully—threatening step forward. “Tell me the name of god, you fungal piece of-… thing!” he shouted, aiming the arrow right at his neck.

Mother Spore didn’t budge. His echoey voice filtered around him, making his gut twist tightly. He felt sick, he felt sweaty, he felt afraid.

“Can you feel your heart burning?” he crooned, his mouth never moving. “Can you feel the struggle within? The fear within me is beyond your soul can make.”

Even with no eyes, it looked liked he was staring into his soul.

“You cannot kill me in a way that matters.”

Scar’s grip tightened, enough to where he thought the crossbow would snap. He shoved the arrow forward, biting his quivering lip. He was the mayor. He was supposed to be strong. Brave. Powerful.

Why was he shaking so bad?

“I’m not scared of you!” he cried. By now, tears were leaking from his eyes and down his chin.

Mother Spore just laughed. It was hollow, empty, and mocking. Scar took a step back as he took a step forward. He kept coming at him, the arrow pointed at him not deterring his advance. Scar kept backing up, until his back hit something solid. A wall.

“You should be,” he purred.

Scar swallowed and yelped as the crossbow was taken from his hands. Not roughly, but gently. As if he were a small child who was holding a pair of scissors. Mother Spore kept staring at him, his sockets never leaving Scar’s emerald eyes.

He swallowed again, taking a small breath to find his voice. Maybe he could reason his way out?

“Grian,” he whispered, putting every ounce of love and care he could into his name. An old name. “I know you’re still in there…” He didn’t know. “Please come back to me.”

Suddenly, a hand was on his throat. He tried to take in a sharp gasp, but his airflow was being cut off completely. Mother Spore stared him down, still with those empty sockets.

“He’s not coming back.”

Scar tried to croak out something, but his eyes started to roll back. His vision spotted, his limbs went slack, and he was out.

——

Scar woke up tied to a chair. He slowly raised his head, looking around. The room was far too dark for him to make out, but he noticed a few small things.

For one, there was a small, dull light above him. He looked up. It was a luminescent mushroom, glowing a faint, pulsing red. Second, his shirt was undone and messy. As for why, he didn’t know. And third, there was a dark silhouette was standing in the shadows in front of him.

And he knew who it was.

He sucked in a breath. “Wh-what do you want?” he asked, testing the ropes on his wrists. They were tight enough to cut off his circulation. “Why am I here?”

Mother Spore slowly came forward. Scar couldn’t stop from flinching when his sockets bore into him. “You don’t like mycelium, Scar,” he said.

Scar blinked. He really wasn’t expecting that. Of course he didn’t like mycelium! Look what it did to Grian! To Etho! To the whole Mycelium Resistance! Hell, look what’s it’s done to tear the server apart!

When he voiced this, Mother Spore just laughed again. “You don’t like mycelium,” he repeated, stepping closer and closer. And this time, Scar couldn’t get away.

That didn’t mean he couldn’t try, though. He wiggled in the chair, his breathing picking up. “N-no! No I don’t!” he snapped. “And I never will!”

Mother Spore kept laughing. “You don’t like mycelium.”

He blinked and tears fell down his cheeks again. When did he start crying? “Quit saying that!”

He finally stopped. By now, he was practically on top of him. Scar expected him to repeat himself yet again. He stayed silent, though. He opened his mouth to snark at him, but a loud, hard slap crouched through the room.

Scar gasped as he head was snapped to the side. Grian slapped him. No, Mother Spore slapped him. He blinked, the tears still slowly falling, and looked back at him.

“You hit me,” he said dumbly.

“You need to learn to hold your tongue,” he responded. His tone was that of a condescending parent. “Why don’t you like mycelium?”

He scowled. This wasn’t Grian. He was done playing nice. He was done treating this like a game. It was time to be the mayor and protect his people.

“Because it turns people like Grian into people like you!” he shouted, leaning forward as far as his restraints would allow.

A cold, dead hand grabbed his chin and forced his face up. All the anger drained from him at once and he shivered as it was replaced by the icy grips of fear. Mother Spore tilted his head to the left, to the right, up and down, and then nodded once.

He let him go and Scar shrunk back as far as he could. He watched with morbid curiosity as Mother Spore reached into his eye and pulled out a small, red and white spotted mushroom.

Mycelium.

“Don’t worry, Scar,” he said, holding the fungus between careful fingers.

He brought it to his forehead and Scar panicked. He did his best to kick and fight and shake his head, but Mother Spore inevitably won. He moved his hair back and placed it down. The roots immediately took hold and he grit his teeth to keep from screaming.

He looked up at him, blood running down his face, mixing with his tears. Mother Spore moved his hand back and looked at him. His smiled still didn’t drop.

“You’ll get to like mycelium soon enough.”

[wardenred]

Flufftober 7: Porch Swing

One of those random freewriting things, except now it's giving me more ideas. Maybe I'll write more about these two sisters reconecting, or maybe I'll use those ideas to rework an old WIP that kind of fell apart... 🤔💭

The porch swing creaks on and on while I cook. I choose to perceive the sound as soothing rather than annoying. In truth, I kind of envy my sister’s energy. I would’ve been dizzy thirty minutes ago, but she just keeps swinging. Sometimes, she slows down, and I start wondering if she’s going to stop after all. Quickly enough, she picks up the pace again.

The kitchen around me is exactly the way Grandma left it, except cleaner. I spent most of the morning getting rid of the dust and old grease spots. The surfaces are clean enough to operate on; if they don’t look like that, it’s only because their age is showing. It would make sense to get rid of some of the useless knick-knacks taking up space: framed embroideries on the walls, chipped vases and candle holders lurking in the cabinets. I don’t have the heart for it. Not yet.

I find myself wondering how much effort it will take to keep the place just as pristine in the long run. Camilla and I haven’t really been under the same roof for a decade, but I remember her uncanny talent for creating messes whenever she went, like a hurricane of misplaced objects and stray sandwich wrappings. People change, of course. Maybe she has, too.

I stomp down the sudden urge to go up to her room and assess its state  in the name of testing this theory. This entire thing will only work if we respect each other’s boundaries.

My hopes for that are slim, but there.

I fill two bowls with hot soup, grip two spoons tight in my fist, and nudge the door with my shoulder. The backyard greets me with a gust of cold breeze. I should have grabbed a hoodie. Oh well.

“Hey,” I call from the worn wooden stairs. There’s moss growing in the cracks, and at least one tiny, weird red-capped mushroom. A line of aunts marches around my sandal. “I’m not going to make you come inside, but you might have worked up an appetite. So.” I hold up one of the bowls, suddenly self-conscious. “Want some?”

Camilla digs her hills hard into the gravel and dust, bringing the swing to a halt. She blinks owlishly at me, and I’m once again caught off guard by the sight of her without her glasses. I got the same feeling every time I pulled up her Instagram account in moments of nostalgia. In person, it’s even stranger.

I wonder how strange she finds me now.

“Um, yeah. Thanks,Nat,” she says after a small delay. Her breathing is heavy, like she’s holding back tears. Probably just exhaustion. “Can I ask you to bring it down here though? I think if I get up, the world will tilt.”

“Sure.” I briefly debate putting my own bowl somewhere while I do that, but there are too many insects in the air. A lizard crawls down the porch railing. A frog croaks from somewhere uncomfortably close, and I swear the chuffing sounds in the tall grass come from a pair of hedgehogs. How is everything here so brimming with wildlife? Grandma’s house stands in the middle of a regular street in a regular small town, not even on the outskirts. Cars are driving past our fence this very instant.

Camilla gingerly takes a bowl from me and balances it between her knees. Good thing I waited until it was steaming hot, not scalding. She frowns at the contents. “Is that chicken soup?”

I shrug. “I didn’t know what to make. This seemed fitting.” Grandma always insisted on making us soup whenever she thought we were sick or upset. The latter definitely applies.

On the back porch, there are two mismatched chairs. I pick the smaller one for a seat and the taller one for a makeshift table, but only after a thorough inspections for any cobwebs, insects, or snails. My arms are covered in goosebumps, even though the wind is settling down. Definitely should have put on a hoodie. How did I even let the weather fool me into wearing a sundress? Have I forgotten how quickly it changes here in autumn once the clock ticks past noon?

“It’s good!” Camilla announces from the swing, and I roll my eyes lightly at the surprise in her voice. She studies her spoon like it has all the answers to the most complicated problems of the universe. “Grandma always used to overcook the noodles.”

“I like to think I’ve improved on her recipe.”

She smiles. “You definitely have.”

Wow. For our first conversation in almost ten years, we’re unironically doing great.

For a while, we both eat in silence. I survey the overgrown flower beds nestled against the fence—more like weed beds at this point. The last time I tried gardening I was still in high school, and I can’t call it a rousing success. I wonder if we can get someone to help us turn this place into something less decrepit. Perhaps some of the neighbors have kids looking for weekend jobs. Not that I’m looking forward to mingling with the locals, but it’s not like I’ll be able to avoid that. Today has already been full of interactions, between the grocery store and the home supplies one and random people approaching me in the street with out-of-the-blue greetings.

“So,” Camilla says eventually. “A year here, before we can sell the property. Seems...” She scrunches up her nose, looking around the yard, as well. “I don’t even know. What was Grandma thinking?”

“Something about family and legacy and embracing the secrets of life, according to her letter,” I reply. A twinge of uncertainty pulls at my mind. “You got one, too, right?”

It’s a relief to see her nod. “Probably a copy of the same one you got.” She drops her spoon and tugs at the single green strand in her otherwise pastel-pink hair. “Well. This is going to be an adjustment.” She hesitates before adding, “I’ll probably want to invite friends over now and then. I’ll start climbing walls otherwise.”

Camilla having friends over never meant anything good for me when we were kids. But people change. I’ve changed. She clearly has, too.

“It’s fine,” I say. “Just as long as you warn me beforehand so I can stay out of the way or whatever.” And as long as you don’t make too bad of a mess, I don’t say. I really have to give her the benefit of a doubt. “Hey, speaking of ‘out of the way,’ do you have any plans for the basement? I was thinking of setting up a studio there.”

“I don’t mind,” she says with a shrug. “Though don’t artists usually need plenty of natural light?”

I laugh. “Yeah, well, with all the trees growing right by the windows, I think I’m better off investing in a bunch of lamps.”

“Makes sense.” 

She gives me a long look I can’t quite decipher, then twists down and around to place her bowl by the swing post. The next thing I know, she’s tugging off her studded suede jacket.

“Here.” She tosses it my way. It lands in a heap over the railing, right on top of a fiendishly big bug that buzzes in indignation. “I’m getting cold just looking at you.”

I could tell her I was going to head inside and find my own clothes anyway.

Sticking around feels like a better idea.

[thebiscuiteternal]

Hi! If you’re doing that anon stuff, would you be willing to do a what-if where the Nie bros’ ages are reversed? Basically anything else goes…

You're in luck, nonnie, because I have a whole series for that!

But for this request specifically, hmmmm... how about a little snippet of the first time Huaisang gets sick after becoming sect leader?

----------

Zhang Min has to bite her tongue to hold back laughter when she arrives to deliver the evening's medication dosage and finds Nie Mingjue perched on a chair in front of his brother's door, recently-acquired saber in hand and sporting a scowl as fierce as that of any stone lion.

"And how many petitioners have you scared off today, gongzi?" she asks, unable to keep from grinning.

If anything, Nie Mingjue's scowl etches itself even deeper on his face. "Too many," he mutters darkly, but his demeanor lightens a little when she offers him a fresh lamb and cabbage bun.

"Take a break, and go visit the kitchens, alright? I'm sure it would cheer your brother up considerably if you were to eat dinner together."

Nie Mingjue nods and stuffs the entire bun in his mouth, saber still unsheathed and at the ready as he heads down the hall.

Muffling a giggle with her sleeve, Zhang Min pushes the door open with her foot as quietly as possible and goes to check on her sect leader.

Nie Huaisang had evidently been asleep, but rouses at her approach and blinks up at her blearily. "Evening already?" he asks, the words more wheeze than voice.

"Mmhmm. Though I would hope you got more rest today than yesterday with your fierce little guard outside," Zhang Min says as she sets the tea tray on the bedside table and helps him sit up.

"It did seem more peaceful than usual... but I didn't assign any-"

"Jue-er was quite miffed at how often people were bothering you."

"Oh."

It hasn't been long enough since Nie Mingjue's turnaround of opinion for Nie Huaisang to have stopped getting that soft, slightly awed expression on his face whenever his younger brother shows actual care.

Zhang Min pretends not to have noticed it and focuses instead on measuring the powders and dried leaves into the tea. "I brought honey this time, since someone keeps complaining about the taste."

"I wouldn't complain if it wasn't disgusting," Nie Huaisang replies dryly, but accepts the steaming cup and downs it in one go, heedless of the heat.

She's fixing the second cup when Nie Mingjue comes skidding back in with dinner.

"The kitchen aunties made spicy chicken and egg soup for both of us," he crows, holding the tray up like a prize. "With an extra bowl of braised chicken and mushrooms with rice for me."

"How we keep anything in stock with as fast as you're growing, I have no idea," Nie Huaisang says, and Zhang Min hides her snort when she sees Nie Mingjue stick his tongue out at his brother in retaliation.

After Nie Huaisang has taken his second dose of medication, she checks his qi -sluggish, but not stalled, an improvement- and makes sure that he is indeed breathing easier before she begins collecting her little jars and paper packets to leave, the teapot and cups remaining at the bedside. "Enjoy dinner, you two. I'll be back in the morning for your next checkup."

"Thank you, Min-jie."

---

When Zhang Min pokes her head in just before sunrise, she finds the dinner dishes and teapot still on the bedside table and Nie Mingjue curled into his older brother's side, Nie Huaisang's cheek resting on his younger brother's head as they both sleep.

Smiling, she decides to give them just a little longer and turns toward the kitchens to get herself something sweet for breakfast.

[blacklodgemusictx]

Feeling Yourself Disintegrate

I don’t have what I would consider a fear of needles.  I’m covered in tattoos.  I am perfectly willing to sit serenely in one place and be stabbed hundreds of times in a row – it’s an asset.  I deal with the repetitive psychological pain of doing my job every day the same way (civil service, amiright?)

IV placement is another matter altogether.  I seem to attract phlebotomists who forget how veins work.  Something about me says, “Dig under my skin, poke, jab, hurt me.”  After each failed venous expedition, I’m left shaking.  It’s almost like being cold: shivering, gasping, teeth clenching.

I take Ketamine infusions due to Major Depressive Disorder (Google it: there's evidence it makes old, dim synapses light up and start "talking" to each other again).  12/30/22 was my second Ketamine “booster” (after an initial series of six as close together as possible for maximum benefit, I am now taking infusions longer and longer apart trying to maintain the drug’s therapeutic benefit without being as dependent on frequency.)

This infusion was another bad stick.  Please, I beg the kind woman who runs the clinic when the Vein Abuser is out of the room, please don’t let her poke me again.  Please?  Kind Lady has never missed the target.  Her deft hand sinks the needle in place every time.  No, she assured me.  She will do it next time.

I am wrapped in a blanket, shoes off, feet reclined, giant noise cancelling headphone, padded sleep mask I bought off Amazon.  Usually, I bring lip balm as I have a weird habit of smacking my lips pretty vigorously when down my K-hole.  Today, my only focus is a small baggy of nausea candies and alcohol prep swabs – I saw a video on Facebook suggesting the quick inhalation of alcohol during a spell of nausea will sometimes help alleviate the symptoms.  As of treatment seven, the Ketamine suddenly started making me violently sick.

I hate being nauseous.  I won’t even resort to being coy: if you want my secrets, you don’t even have to torture me.  Just spin me around in an office chair for half an hour ‘til I’m sea sick.  No more, coppa, I’ll talk, I’ll talk!

The only reason I was willing to submit to getting sick again is the fact that I truly believe the Ketamine is working.  I’ve been a slave to my depression since I was ten years old.  Even though the Ketamine’s benefit so far has just been a kind of Flowers for Algernon effect (improvement that quickly wears off), the brief, clear windows of hopeful feeling have been indescribably beautiful.

(The only reason I am going in to this kind of detail instead of just saying, “Ketamine, it’s a thing I do.  And then this other stuff happened” is because I know there are people out there stumbling in the darkness that is depression who want to know what it’s like.)

I never did drugs.  People laughed at Bill Clinton when he said he smoked pot, but “did not inhale.”  I feel you, Bubba, I could never really get the hang of it either.  I was high maybe twice in high school.  I’ve done Delta 8 since people swear by CDB and all it’s offshoots for pain relief (I have crippling back pain from degenerative disk disease and spinal arthritis).  So I have a vague idea what getting “high” is, but tripping?  No clue.  I might drink once or twice a year.  For the most part, my mind is one of the few things I truly possess (if just barely), I’ve never liked the idea of using substances that could potentially make me a stranger to my own inner self.  I hate Delta 8, HATE it.  It affects my ability to form short term memories.  I refer to it as “roofie-ing” myself.

Acid, magic mushrooms?  I had no frame of reference.

And if you don’t either, here’s exactly what it’s like:  living in album covers for an hour. 

I actual fed the prompt “Describing the cover of ‘Unknown Pleasures’ to someone who has never seen it before” in to my WONDER AI generator and got some pretty close representations of what I saw.

I was instructed before my first transfusion to just get on Spotify and look for “curated ketamine playlist” to listen to during my trip.  I found the equivalent of “oooohhmmmm” bells and hippy, navel contemplation stuff.  Nothing I read mentioned anything about the vital nature of having good music with you on your journey.

My first trip was a bad needle situation (they learned to give me Clonidine beforehand to get me to calm down enough to submit my arm without hyperventilating.  The first experience being a painful one conditioned me to fear all future experiences there unfortunately.  Like I said, Kind Lady has been just right with the needle, but the other lady who works there… no… not so much).  I didn’t switch to my Ohhhmmm playlist.  I left it on my Salim Nourallah playlist.  Initially, I was just trying to calm myself, but once the IV was started, the trip happened so fast I was already falling before I realized. 

This has made all the difference.

I related this to Kind Lady later and she said there was no way to tell.  She knows a very quiet, unassuming gent (I swear she said he was a doctor or some sort of medical professional) that takes gangster rap on his trips.

My cousin is a Physician’s Assistant.  She said she had seen people come out of Ketamine situations in emergency rooms (used to set bones and such) where people who were unprepared would flip out (have a bad trip.) 

I, personally, have only had pleasant experiences (except for the recent bouts of nausea).  You are responsible for setting the tone for your own experience.  As someone whose depression has been a lifelong companion, my mind isn’t a bright or cheerful place per se, but I know myself.  It’s been a relatively intuitive process.  I don’t watch scary movies beforehand.  I try to just be calm and collected.  Stay peaceful.  The limbic system doesn’t know the difference between watching/listening to emotionally fraught material or experiencing it so I try not to take chances.

Being accompanied in to my first trip by a familiar voice was so deeply comforting.  Salim Nourallah is my favorite singer, but he also happens to be a dear friend and fantastic human being to boot. 

Ketamine (again this is all purely subjective.  Everyone’s experiences will be different) creates any level of dissociative experiences for the user.  I don’t know if it’s just because I don’t have experience with “substances,” I but I disassociate… hard.

Complete dissolution of self.  Out of body.  Soaring.  Flying.  Falling.  Colors. 

Because music is so much part of my psychological make up, it’s sounds, colors and textures interpreted in musical context: album covers.

I have cried a lot.  The feeling returns gradually to my fingers and toes, my eyes stop jittering in their sockets and reach up to feel my sleep mask is wet.  The feeling/theme to all my trips has just been overwhelming gratitude.  I feel so much love for those people I have in my life who continue to stand by me no matter how the darkness sometimes affects my mind.

Ketamine for me is half medical treatment, half vision quest.  As I the chemicals wear off and I can feel myself again, I try to listen to anything I was told.  Call it messages from the subconscious, whatever you want.  I’ve come out wanting to reach out to certain people.  I sent a message to someone else I knew of who has severe depression (a voice actor on a podcast I’ve listened to for years).  He let me send him a care package of little, cheerful things.  Another trip, I came out and message someone I used to think of as a friend who hadn’t spoken to me in 12+ years.  I cast the missive out in to the digital sea not expecting anything back… but he responded.

I curated a special playlist of songs I wanted to “disintegrate to” and have emerged and tweaked it each trip.  No song has tilted the trip to the negative, but I have taken one band off (who shall remain nameless) as – under the influence – the singer acquired super human powers of grating annoyance. 

I am allowing myself Flaming Lips songs even though I have been estranged from my fandom in their regard for over a decade now.  But you have to admit:  for tripping, they are kind of perfect.

I return to Salim though.  His voice is consistently silvery blue.  “Miette” became so achingly beautiful I could barely stand it.  There are not words to describe how meaningful it is it have the voice of a friend accompanying me in the darkness.

My playlist:

[genyawritesshizz]

Nobody wanted this but I felt angsty and wanted to write a bowser x reader with hanahaki disease so here it is. Be sad with me. Vent piece. Lots of sad flashbacks. Very long one shot.

Trigger warning: blood, choking (not sexually), death, mentions of death,mentions of sex (not detailed), swearing

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It’s been years since you first coughed up one of those beautiful petals. You’ve been in denial ever since, despite occasionally hacking up whole flowers. Their stems ripping your throat apart leaving a blood mess in the sink. You couldn’t be dying, not like this. You had a whole kingdom to rule, dozens of citizens counting on you to lead them. But the longer you ignored it the worse it became. Your healing abilities could only delay the inevitable for so long.

“Your majesty, princess peach of the mushroom kingdom is here!” You had scheduled a meeting with peach and bowser to discuss this pressing matter. It hurt to think you’d have to tell your two closest friends that you where dying… that they’d need to take care of your people. Just the thought of what was about to happen made your gut twist.

Even if the they where the very reason you are facing an early demise…

Whipping off the spit and specks of blood from your lips with a hankerchief you quickly responded to your dear servant.

“Thank you for informing me, please show her to the counsel room.”

“Yes my lady.”

You looked at the mirror before you.

There stood a shell of the women you used to be. Hollow eyes and dark bags stared back at you. Your skin had paled and check bones hollowed. You reminded yourself of a corpse. Dead on your feet.

Your dress barely clung to your frail frame.

You once filled this dress out completely. Wearing it to all kind of festivals your people held. The fondest memories you had where held within this dress…

This is why you hid away. Rarely stepping outside. You wanted your people to remember you as who you used to be.

Not this.

Not a sickly frail women.

This dress was also the dress you wore when signing a peace treaty with a certain Koopa king.

The very man who you found yourself helplessly devoted to.

The man who will inevitably kill you.

The man who…

“My lady are you alright?” You shook yourself out of your thoughts. “Princess peach is awaiting your arrival”

“Yes I’ll be right out.”

“Are you sure you do not require my assistance my lady?”

Your staff knew that you where ailing. They would see it plain as day. Their once beautiful princess required they’re undevoted attention. You praised your lady in waiting. She had stepped up since you first began succumbing to the sickness. Forcing you to eat and even helping you dress on days you felt truly helpless. Yet you refused to allow her to take you to a doctor. She herself had never witnessed you spit the petals out. Nor will she ever. These vile episodes where only for you to see. Nobody else needed to.

You opened the door to see her smiling at you. She offered you her hand which you took. Feeling weak after just hacking up a bushel of flowers.

“Princess peach lady (y/n)” peach gasped loudly. She quickly ran from her seat to your side.

“OH my stars (y/n)! What’s wrong?! What’s going on?!” Your dear friend had tears in her eyes as she took in your appearance.

“Let’s have a talk” you motioned to the three chairs that sat around a table.

Though peach was your friend you couldn’t help but be envious of her. She had it all. She was stunningly beautiful, with plump pink lips, long golden locks, and sapphire eyes. She had captured the heart of the one person you yearned for. Yet, the worst part of it all was she didn’t even want him. She wanted Mario, a human man. Perhaps is she returned his feelings it wouldn’t hurt so bad but the fact she had everything you wanted and didn’t even care about it sent you into a frenzy.

Peach helped you to the table sitting right next to you.

“Where is bowser? I requested he be here as well.” You turned to your lady in waiting. She looked down at the floor.

“King Bowser has declined your invitation to attend the meeting. He said that he was busy with a plot.” You scoffed loudly.

A plot huh probably another attempt at taking peach and her kingdom. How funny.

“No matter… it’ll be okay” your chest was on fire and you felt the need to hack another bundle of flowers at the mear thought of him.

“(Y/n) please talk to me! What is going on? What’s wrong? Why have you been hiding from me? Your obviously hurt! I can help you!” Peach held your hands in hers tightly desperately shaking them with each question wanting you attention. You couldn’t help but smile. Peach ever the kind one of course wanted to help fix the very problem she created.

“Peach. Listen to me and listen to me carefully.” You stared her in the eyes. “I’m dying…”

“NO! Please don’t say that (y/n)… w-we can help you! We have all kind of cures and me-”

“Peach please… there is no cure on earth to fix this… no mushroom no potion no food is going to fix what is happening.” The tears in her eyes spilled over as she leaped onto you. Burring her reddened face into your dress, clinging tightly to you she sobbed.

“Please (y/n) we have to try!”

“I have tried it all… this is inevitable I’m afraid.” You pet her hair to try and soother her, allowing your fingers to rake through the beautiful locks.

You remember being kids and braiding her hair into all kinds of styles. The two of you would always take turns doing each others hair.

Her sobs grew violent and her fists tightened in your dress.

“Peach, look at me” her face lifted up from the chest of your dress. Her blue eyes where puffy and she sniffled trying to hold back the tears. “When I’m gone, I need you to watch my people.” You felt your own tears welling up. “I-I can’t lead my people anymore… I” you brought both hands around her, this time your buried your face into her shoulder. “Please… just look after them.”

“Please.”

The two of you embraced eachother for hours sobbing until both your throats ran sore.

“I promise you (y/n), I promise. Your people will be safe with me.”

The paperwork you had drafted had been modified instead of half of the kingdom being divided between peach and bowser you gave full ruler ship to peach. It hurt to scribble out bowsers name from the recipients but it was for the best. He couldn’t even attend a meeting to discuss anything. Yes he had your heart but he couldn’t even stop for a few hours to talk to you when you needed him most.

When you presented the documents to your counsel they all where absolutely shocked, saddened and heart broken. But you where still queen, you still called the shots that they had to honor. So the bill was passed and upon your death would be announced to the entire kingdom. Though word would surly get out before that. You knew your poor servants would discuss it to others to grieve. It was natural.

“King bowser I bring you grave news!” Kamek zoomed into the castles library where bowser spent the majority of his time, writing plots for invading the mushroom kingdom.

“Not now Kamek im very busy!” He yelled at the magikoopa. Not even sparing him a glance, instead focusing on the blueprint for a new cannon design.

“Bowser this is important.” Kameks voice was stern. This shocked the giant Koopa. Kamek was rarely ever serious like this or used his real name instead of sir. Bowser quickly turned around facing the floating koopa. Kameks face: I held no joy, not even his usual smirk. Instead it looked conflicted, sad even. “Did you attend the meeting with princess (y/n)?”

“No, im way to busy with these-” Kamek rushed up into bowsers face staring him straight in the eyes.

“To busy trying to get peach?!” His beak knocked into bowsers.“(Y/n) is dying!” He screeched. Bowsers jaw dropped and eyes widened for a second before hardening.

“Hahaha very funny Kamek, you just want me to go over there. Like I said I’m to busy!” Bowser crossed his arms angrily, not finding kameks ‘joke’ funny.

“I’m not joking.” Kamek’s voice was dead panned.

“Huh?” There was no way Kamek had just said what he thought he said. Kamek sighed adjusting his glasses and backing away from bowser.

“Princess (y/n) is dying.”

“how is that possible Kamek?” The king of course didn’t, or couldn’t, believe the words the old koopa spoke. You where a princess, you had access to the most elite health care in all of the kingdoms, you yourself where a healer! The best healer in all of the land.

How could you be dying?

“I’m not sure my lord, whatever is ailing the princess, she will not tell.” It didn’t take an empath to understand that the old koopa was sad. He had watched you grow up after all.

He remembers the first time he met with your people to discuss a trade offer between the two kingdoms. In exchange for darklands weaponry your people would offer medicine. A very young bowser had insisted on tagging along, begging kemek to the point of annoyance for him to join. That’s when his little boy was introduced to a newly established and very young princess (y/n). Though he could tell you trying to pay attention to the adults talking your eyes kept wondering to the squirming bowser beside him.

“How about the kids go play while we talk business?” He suggested, everyone agreed it was for the best if you two played in the court yard.

Kemek swore bowser would never stop talking about you, how awesome and cool you where. He begged the older koopa to go over for play dates. Of course he agreed.

He honestly though he’d die long before either of you did. The news broke his little heart and to see bowser not even attend the very meeting where this was brought to light hurt.

“Go.”

“Bowser if yo-”

“LEAVE!”

“Very well”

In and instant the desk he had previously been working on flew across the room, knocking over book shelves and sending papers flying.

“GOD DAMNIT” fire spewed from his mouth lighting said papers on fire. Countless other items where sent smashing around the room. “FUCK” his tantrum ended in him crumpled on the floor with his head in his hands. An unfamiliar clear liquid began leaking from his eyes.

Could he be.. crying? Impossible the fearless, strong and unyielding leader of the Koopa’s couldn’t be crying. Yet his breaths became labored and the liquid continued to flow.

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“Hey punk I’m king bowser! Bow before me!”

“Haha, King huh? You look a little young to be a king!” You laughed at him, an amused smirk on your face as bowser stood triumphantly on the fountain. You jumped up with him, you stood a bit taller than him at the time. To put prove your point you out your elbow on his head, leaning onto him. “And a little short!”

“Just you wait when I get older I’m going to be the biggest and strongest around!”

The two of you played around the fountain for hours. Eventually leading to both of you in the fountain splashing eachother with the water. Once you grew tired of this you both laid in the grass to sunbathe.

“Ya know punk, you’re not to bad.”

“Ya know bowser, for a short guy you’re not to bad yourself.”

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“(Y/n)!” Bowser came leaping over to you making a point to absolutely plow into your bed, which you happened to still be sleeping in. “Wake up sleepy head! I got something cool to show you!” You groaned loudly when the ball of energy landed on top of you.

“What is it!” You peeked out from under your thick covers. His face was inches from yours.

“Get up and I’ll show you!” He began bouncing up and down.

“Okay okay jeez get off me! You weigh a ton!”

“Gotta get big remember!” Though his cocky attitude vanished when you crawled out of bed in only your night garments. Which was a beautiful long and lacy spaghetti strap dress. Though it didn’t show anything that your normal attire did it still felt… personal.

“We’ll see you going to show me or not!” In his state of dumbfoundness you’d already slipped on a cardigan over the dress and a pair of house slippers.

“Oh yeah! Come look!” He bounded over to your giant bedroom window, cracking it open and peering out. You stood behind him and watched as the young koopa king shot out a small but still impressive fire ball. Effectively catching a small bush on fire. “Did you see that (y/n)! Did you see that! I can breath fire!” he laughed loudly and you couldn’t help but laugh with him.

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“God Kameks been putting me through the damn ringer with this training!” A now teenage bowser complained about the woes of his sore muscles. His now hulking body slumped on your bed. Well your second bed, you had to have another one made due to bowser constantly jumping, breaking the poor thing in two. So he had his bed and you had yours, though you never had sleepover anymore it was still nice to just relax in your room for awhile.

“My advisors have been cramming all this medical junk down my throat! How am I supposed to memories every bone in muscle in the body! And not just my body everyone’s body! There’s like fifty thousand different species out there!” While he complained about physically pain you complained about the mental struggles you’ve been through with learning your peoples healing techniques.

“Hey speaking of all that healing shit, do you know how to fix my back? Things been killing me! Ya know while your magic hands” ‘magic hands’ was bowsers word for your healing magic. You could channel it through your palms and into the effected area. You giggled,

“I can sure give it a try! But you gotta take off that damn shell!”

“Fine but don’t peek at me! I know I’m delicious but I’m off the menu!” He laughed shucking off his giant shell.

Huh, for some reason your face turned a weird shade of pink. Weird you’ve never had such a reaction to bowsers antics. Oh well.

Bowser laid on his stomach while you channeled your powers to his back.

“Hmmm yeah that’s the spot!” He sighed out.

Oh god… your face turned beat red, thank god he couldn’t see you right now.

This became a regular thing, bowser would complain about something sore and you would work your magic hands to help his pain.

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“(Y/n) I met the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen today!”

That sentence was the beginning of your demise. The day bowser came over boasting about meeting a ‘princess peach’ it was over. You had met peach already during another business meeting. She was everything… you knew you could not compete with her.

All bowser remembers from this was you being a great friend and listening to him boast about how amazingly beautiful peach was.

It hurt.

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“(Y/n)! what if I’m a bad kisser? I can’t be a bad kisser when I finally snag peach!”

“You can… practice on me?”

That was the night everything changed between you two. The night you kissed bowser changed how you felt about the king koopa.

That’s the night be realized you where helplessly in love with your best friends and the night you first coughed up a petal. You where in love with bowser but, he was in love with peach.

All bowser remembers from this is giving you the smooching of a life time….

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“(Y/n)…” bowser had turned to you, battered and bloodied after being defeated by Mario. You collapsed in the main hall of your castle. You gasped, quickly running over to him. With the help of one of your guards you dragged bowser to your bed chambers.

The healing process took hours but eventually you managed to fix what had been done. The king laid in bed quietly, however as you turned to leave he grabbed your wrist.

One thing led to another and you ended up sleeping with the koopa king. A night of rough passion ended with you laying awake crying over the bathroom sink when more flowers crawled out. The sex wasn’t out of love, it was purely letting off frustration. It made you sick to think that bowser was most likely imagining it was with peach.

Unknown to you bowser remembers everything from this night. How hot and passionate it was. How utterly delicious you looked. He couldn’t resist going back for more.

So it became habit anytime bowser became frustrated with either peach Mario or his minions he’d run to you for stress relief. At least you got to be close with him. Even if it was just for an hour.

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The following days after the two of you first slept together where agony. This is when whole flowers began to explode from your throat. If it wasn’t clear what it was then it sure was to you now.

Hanahaki disease, and the only cure was for him to love you back or death. Having the flowers removed, which would remove any memories you had with him was completely off the table. You’d rather die than forget . It was selfish on your end but it’s all you had.

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Even thought it hurt you still couldn’t stay away from him. You remember the day he had Bowser Jr. he was so happy with the little baby. Yet he had no idea how to take care of him. Heavily relying on you to teach him how to care for a baby.

“(Y/n)! What do I do he won’t stop screaming!” Bowser called you desperately with a wailing baby in the background.

“Did you change him?”

“Yes!”

“Did you feed him?”

“Yes Of course! He’s gotta grow up to be big like his papa!”

“Well then he’s probably just tired! Rock him to sleep!”

“Rock him?”

“Yeah hold him close and rock him! Or just walk around with him!” Bowser became silent on the phone and eventually the whining stoped.

“(Y/n) you’re a damn life safer!” You laughed

“Any time bowser! Now get some sleep!”

You often babysat bowser Jr. when he was a youngster. You where practically his mother figure. It filled you with absolute joy to watch the little koopa.

That was until Bowser Jr. came over and proclaimed to finally know who his real momma was…

Of course Bowser told him it was peach. You had to bite your tongue to not scream and cry right then and there. Instead excusing yourself to your bedroom to cry and retch out more petals. You would have been more than happy to naturally give bowser an heir to his thrown. But no, he had to trick a stork into giving him a baby then of all things say peach was his mother.

Of course all bowser knows is that you where an amazing babysitter. Always so loving towards his son.

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Bowser awoke from his emotional roller coaster of a nap. The flames from his outburst had died out leaving nothing but ashes around his study.

“Kemek!”

“Yes sir.”

“ready my ship, I’m leaving”

Bowser left at record breaking speed to your kingdom. Not caring if the engine was even warmed up.

“I’m sorry King Bowser but princes (y/n) has made a strict rule on no visitors!” Your poor castle guards attempted to keep the angry koopa away. Bowser knew that you had made a strict no visitor rule a few months back but unfortunately he was to focused on capturing peach to really care.

“I don’t care what she says! I’m coming in!”

“I’m sorry sir but-” He stormed past them, barreling through the castle doors and into the main hall. It looked like a ghost town. Not a soul occupied the hall. Unlike his castle where minions and guards lurked around every corner. Where are all of your staff? Your hand maids your butlers the house keepers? Empty. The only sounds where coming from a door down the hall. Bowser stormed down to it practically yanking the door off its hinges. There stood your lady in waiting, she shrieked at the sight of a very pissed off bowser.

“L-lord bowser !” Her voice quivered, it was obvious she had been crying. Her eyes puffy and her skin reddened.

“Where is she?!”

“My lady does not wish-”

“Cut the shit! Where is she!” The maid looked down to the floor, whipping her wet eyes on her sleeve before looking back at the king.

“Follow me.” She led him deep into the castle, through many doors and tunnels until finally reaching a giant metal door with your kingdoms crest on it. Her petite hands came up to knock on the door. “My lady! I have come to visit you!”

You couldn’t respond. A few minutes ago you had a horrible coughing fit, as if something had triggered it. You can’t seem to get it under control this time however. A giant flower clogged your trachea, you could feel it’s thorns dragging against the thin skin the harder you coughed. Before long each cough had spews of blood along with it.

“My lady?”

“I’m done waiting!” With that bowser rammed through this door as well. The sight before him looked straight out of a horror film. Your beautiful bed was littered with blood stains and petals. The petals piled up all over the corners of your room and with them the pungent stench of death and decay. What hit him next was the loud sounds coming from your connected bathroom. It sounded like … choking, you’re choking! Your hand maid beat him to the punch, banging on the door.

“Your majesty please let me in!” She yelled desperately. The noises only grew in volume.

“Get back!” Bowser punched right through the door and… Jesus. The once white walls where dotted with thick chunks of blood and some other material. His eyes trailed from the walls to the floor and….the maid screamed.

Your frail body curled in on itself, hands around your throat, eyes wide. Your face was a horrendous shade of purple and the only noises you could muster where gurgles and chokes.

On instinct bowser grabbed you by the feet and hoisted you upside down, shacking violently to get you to cough up whatever you had swallowed. He’d done this many times with Jr.

The rose came out with a sickening plop on the floor. The two stared at it.

Did you just choke out a flower?

He sat you back down and backed away from your heaving form. You breathed in and out quickly and the color slowly returned to your face. Your maid was down on her knees.

“Lady (y/n) what is going on! Please talk to me” you cough a few times a couple more petals falling to the floor.

“I guess the cats out of the bag now.” Your voice was scratches and horse, you sounded like hell. You looked up from the floor and to bowser. “Look who showed up.” Even when being moments away from choking to death you still managed to be sarcastic.

“What the fuck (y/n)! First Kamek tells me your dying now I find you choking on a damn flower what the hell is going on!” Bowser demanded an answer. You chuckled.

“Help me to bed.” Your maid lifted you up and walked you to the bed, setting you down on the edge. Bowser followed.

“It’s true, I am dying. I will no longer be able to rule over my kingdom. Therefore I am entrusting princes peach to look after my people.” Bowser grew angry smoke bellowing out of his nostrils.

Your maid took her leave so you two could discuss this privately.

“Why?! How?! You’re a god damn princess (y/n)! Whatever this shit is you…WE can heal it!”

“Unfortunately not, no power on earth can heal this.” He stomped over to you standing less than a few inches away. He looked over your form.

How long have you been sick? How long have you been hiding this from him? And how had he not noticed?! He just had a… ‘meeting’ with you like a month ago and now you looked like death warmed over.

“Bullshit! There has to be something!” You looked into his eyes, tears brimming your pale eyes.

“There is nothing, I can’t change destiny” you looked down and whispered so only you could hear “and I can’t change your heart.” Bowsers thoughts where loud and thundering in his ear. What is Jr. going to do without you? You where like his teacher! What was peach going to do without you, you where like her sister!

And… what was he going to do without you.. you where like his…

Ya know he had never put any real thought into what exactly you where to him.

“Bowser” he was reeled in by your voice. Looking back to you he saw the streams of tears pouring from your eyes. “I’m scared.” His heart sunk. “Im so scared” without thinking he wrapped you in his giant arms. Instantly you responded by wrapping your tiny arms around his neck, your face nuzzling in his thick neck. For this might be the last time you get to embrace him.

Your time was running out. It could be any day now. So why not just say what you needed to say to him right here right now.

“I… I’m scared too.” The koopa struggled to get those three words out. To admit he was scared was something he’d never done before. He’s faced Mario and his green brother hundred of times and not once had he been afraid but… the though of you passing frightened the shit out of him. It shocked you as well to hear him say this. You lifted your head up a bit just to be right next to his ear hole.

“Bowser…” you paused. “How do you feel about me?”

“What do you mean? You’re my best friend!” You sighed, forehead resting against the side of his face.

“But do you love me?” He was silenced by this. He had no words.

Did he love you?

His silence was loud. Of course he didn’t. You already knew the answer yet you had to ask just to dig it in further. Speaking of digging the longer the silence grew something within your lungs grew as well. It felt like you where about to explode.

Your head slackened against his shoulder, arms loosing their grip on his neck.

Bowsers poor brain was on over drive, did he love you? You where his first real friend. His first kiss. His first sexual partner. His first ally.

The two of you had spent your whole lives together. And he…

he did love you.

“I do.” He said so quiet it could barely be heard. Expecting you to say something he shifted you around in his arms while repeating it. Though when he placed you back on the bed to see your reacting his heart fell to the floor. You had a nose bleed and your eyes where closed. You weren’t… moving… at all. You weren’t even breathing.

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.

You spent days on life support. You barely clung to life, hanging on by a thread. Bowser had decided it was best to break the news to Jr. that his beloved auntie (y/n) was passing. The tears his son shed didn’t go alone. Bowser often found himself crying with his son.

“B-Bu-But papa!” Jr. Begged and begged for his father to do something but there was nothing he could do. Finally the little koopa had convinced his father to let him see you, just one last time.

The sight was sad. His son curled up on your unconscious from crying his little eyes out. Screaming and crying for you to come back. Bowser scooped up his son to comfort him.

“No! No I want them! Please papa! I love them! No!” He screamed thrashing around desperately wanting his father to put him back down with you. Instead bowser held his son close squishing the little koopa into his chest.

“I…I love them to”

.

.

The heart monitor beeps picked up, your oxygen levels increase drastically and alarms started ringing around the castle.

You where improving in seconds right before their eyes. With bowser was distracted Jr. leaped out of his arms and back onto the bed.

What started them was the big ‘oof’ you let out when he landed.

“(Y-y/n)?” Bowser kneeled next to your bed bowser Jr. sat in your stomach looking at you with amazement.

Soon a whole team of doctors busted through the doors.

“Princess (y/n)!” They all shouted checking all the different machines that buzzed around them. “Vital signs are stabilizing!” “Heart beat has regulated!” “Blood O2 levels are returning to normal!”

While they where hustling around they missed the fact that you had opened your eyes, staring at a very confused yet happy Jr.

“Tough guys don’t cry” you said weakly bringing a hand out from under the covers to whip away his tears. He brought his little arms around you neck.

“Auntie (y/n)!”

“Hey champ” you rubbed the poor baby’s back. Finally taking notice of the giant shadow looming over you, you looked up to see bowser himself. “I-” before you could speak a word he crumbled onto you. The bed snapping in half.

“I love you”

“I love you too”

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.

THE END

[marauder-exe]

Sick- Wilbur Soot x Reader

Sick- Wilbur Soot x Reader

Word count: 1k

Request: hey gurlllll!

I was hoping for a Wilbur x reader imagine where reader is behind the camera on one of Wilbur streams bc there Ill so he is keeping an eye on her, but something happens so they pass out and Wilbur panics and end stream nd stuff love your. Work !!!

A/N: this has some sickening fluff

Ah, Anaemia- a great plague to your existence. You'd had anaemia since you were young, you'd always been pale and fatigued, but everyone assumed it was from your lack of sleep, nobody thought something deeper was going on. Until your mum took you to the doctor. It was a manageable condition, of course it was, but if you're as forgetful as you are, it's often hard to keep track of your iron intake. You were prone to fainting- it wasn’t very often, but it was enough for Will to keep a watchful eye on you, especially if you hadn't eaten all day.

You were sat on his bed, soaking up the warmth of the covers. You'd gotten sick recently, nothing too bad but enough to keep you in Wilburs bed indefinitely. He was streaming Geoguessr, and insisted on keeping an eye on you due to your sickness. It was hitting about 1 am, the usual for you two, night owls. You hadn't been able to stomach much all day except some terrible mushroom soup Will made, you appreciated the effort though. You decided you could probably stomach some toast. You'd just heard Will guess correctly in Geoguessr and he yelled in excitement. You rolled your eyes with a smile on your lips before throwing the covers from yourself. Immediately the cold hit, your body not being used to it after spending all day curled up in the blanket. You broke out in goosebumps as you shivered a little bit. You still saw Will's gleeful face as you threw your legs over the side of the bed. That seemed to be the last thing you saw though, because as soon as you stood up, your vision started to go spotty and static, and you could practically feel your legs crumble underneath you. Without being able to get a word out to Will, your body hit the wooden surface of the bedroom with a thud.

Wilburs head shot in your direction as he heard the thud of the floorboards.

“(Y/N)!” He immediately threw his headset off and ran over to you, kneeling down instantly. In classic Wilbur fashion, like he does every time, he completely overreacted to your fainting spell. Within seconds you had regained consciousness and could hear Wilbur freaking out. Your head throbbed, you fell hard. You lay your hand on Wilburs arm to calm him, and at the sight of movement, he immediately ceased talking. He lay a soft hand on your cheek, staring at you like you were a doll. You'd told him multiple times that this happens sometimes and your usually fine, but it always scares him. He just couldn’t bare the thought of losing you. And he knew he wasn’t being rational, because you were fine every time, but he couldn’t help but worry. You gave him a soft smile as you sat up with your arms.

“What were you trying to do? You know you're sick right now and I could've just gotten whatever you just RISKED your life for” He definitely emphasized that bit. It made you giggle.

“Becauseeee, you were streaming and I didn’t want to disturb you” Simultaneously both your eyes went wide. He was still streaming. You burst out laughing as Will asked one last time if you were alright, to which you gave a nod, before rushing to his stream. The chat was going absolutely wild because, what the fuck just happened?? He put his headset back on and looked into the camera, he was red and flushed.

“I am so sorry for the sudden leave chat, my... girlfriend is sick right now, and she thought it would be a good idea to overexert herself” He was very hesitant to mention his girlfriend to the stream, as they didn’t even know he had one. He preferred his private life private, but he absolutely couldn’t think of a good explanation for what had just happened.

“I DIDNT OVEREXERT MYSELF I JUST STOOD UP” You shouted, laughing, from your position on the bed. His chat, which about 5 minutes ago was filled with stans on the verge of calling 999, was now incredibly relieved, but also thoroughly surprised. His chat instantly filled up with requests to see his elusive girlfriend. To be honest, he thought they'd give a much worse reaction to the fact he had a girlfriend. It made him smile a little.

“You guys wanna see her?” He smiled, looking in your direction to check if it was okay. You smiled back, which was all he needed. He immediately ran over to the bed and grabbed you bridal style to show the stream. He couldn’t resist a chance to show you off to anyone. You giggled so loudly before shouting,

“No please I'm sick” in a dramatic manner whilst throwing your hand atop your head. He held you like you were his prized possession and looked at you admiringly.

“She's still gorgeous even if she is sick, right chat?” He glanced towards his screen before looking back at you. He carefully put your feet to the floor and let you sit on his gaming chair. “My deepest apologies chat but I am going to have to end this stream, no way am I letting them pass out again” He smiled whilst reading some of the nice comments from his stream. He closed StreamLabs and stopped his stream before looking at you with such a dad look.

“What?” You said adorably before you both laughed. He picked you up again bridal style, eliciting a small scream from you.

“You are getting back in bed, and I am getting you some food” He said sternly, and you knew there was no point arguing.

“Can you get snacks and we can cuddle my sickness away?” You pouted. He broke out in a smile of adoration as he lay you onto the bed.

“Of course” He kissed your forehead gently and started walking to the kitchen. You couldn’t help feeling bad that you interrupted Wilbur's stream, but at least you didn’t have to keep hiding your relationship. You smiled and turned on your favourite show, impatiently waiting for Will's return.

[babymetaldoll]

Crybaby (Spencer Reid/ Reader)

Requested: Yes!

Reader cries a lot. Over movies, puppies, insults, because she’s sensitive, and like when babies cry. So she was always called crybaby for years. So when Spencer sees that she’s crying secretly because she thinks Spencer is gonna break up with her, Spencer (with the help of Penelope and Morgan) made a boyfriend Hoodie that says “I love my crybaby.”

A/N: Hello!! I got this request a few weeks ago, and I’ve been trying to write it right. I hope you like it! Also, in my mind, this is season one Spencer, the dorkiest and the cutest. But, of course, you can picture your fav Reid 💜

Category: Hardcore fluff

Summary: Reader is embarrassed ’cos she thinks she cries too much, and Spencer just wants to show her he loves her no matter what. 

Pairing: Spencer Reid/Reader

Word count: 1,8K

Warning: Prepare yourself ‘cos there is some hardcore fluff going on in here.

Masterlist

*

Spencer Reid walked into his apartment and took off his jacket, shoes and loosened his tie. He left his satchel on a chair and sighed. He was weary after a long day.

- “(Y/N)! I’m home!”- he looked for her as he walked around the place. No one in the kitchen

- “Boo? where are you?”- no one in the bedroom either.

That was weird. Reid had called his girlfriend earlier, and she had said she’d wait for him in his apartment. She was already there making dinner for them.

The pots were on the stove, the house smelled delicious (mushroom curry, Spencer guessed), but there was no sign of his girlfriend anywhere.

Until he heard a soft sob coming from the bathroom.

- “Boo? what are you doing here?”- he whispered as he walked in and found (Y/N) sitting inside the tub, wrapping her arms around her legs, hiding her face.

- “Nothing… I’m ok.”- she murmured so softly, Spencer almost couldn’t hear her.

- “Babe, you are crying. What happened?”- (Y/N) sobbed and shook her head.

- “Really, it’s nothing… I’m ok”- Spencer kneeled outside the tub and caressed her hair softly.

- “Come on, you are obviously upset. Please, trust me.”

His voice was sweet and caring, just like his hands felt playing with her hair.

(Y/N) hesitated for a moment. She was honestly embarrassed to tell him what was going on. She felt she was stupid for crying over something so silly. But still, she couldn’t stop the tears from falling.

- “Promise me you won’t get mad,”- she murmured, her voice muffled against her legs.

- “I would never get mad at you! You know it. What happened?”- (Y/N) took a deep breath and looked at Spencer. He was so worried. His heart broke just to think something was bothering her that she felt she couldn’t share with him.

- “I was talking to Nikki over the phone earlier. I haven’t seen her in a while, and I wanted to catch up”- Spencer nodded as (Y/N) spoke very quickly- “And she asked about you. I told her you’d had a lot of work lately, so I wanted to wait for you with a nice dinner. And she laughed and told me I was the worst cook on earth and that you would definitely laugh at my cooking.”

Spencer wide opened his eyes as he saw her girlfriend’s tears still falling down her cheeks.

- “And I wanted to tell her I’ve gotten a lot better at cooking ‘cos I’ve got all these recipe books now, but I started crying instead. So she just laughed again and said that you would probably dump me for my bad cooking or because I’m a crybaby.”

- “What?!”- Spencer nearly yelled- “What is she talking about? you are not a crybaby!”

- “Yes, I am”- (Y/N) sobbed and covered her face with both hands- “Look at me! my friend told me I couldn’t cook, and I’ve been sitting in your tub for an hour!”

Yes. (Y/N) cried a lot. Spencer knew it, though she had tried to keep it from him ever since they started dating.

But you don’t date a profiler and successfully keep those kinds of things from him. Spencer knew his girlfriend cried a lot.

She had cried on their first date, at the end of the movie they saw. That was when Spencer realized how much he liked her.

(Y/N) cried every time she saw a cute kitten video on Instagram. The ones about abandoned cats that were adopted by loving families that changed their lives were the worst. She would sob.

She cried with every single book she read. Spencer loved that.

(Y/N) had cried the first time he told her he loved her.

She could cry over any Dr. Who episode they saw. Actually, they couldn’t watch any episode with Ten and Rose because (Y/N) would start crying within minutes.

And she was embarrassed, ‘cos people had always made fun of her and called her “crybaby.” Even her friends. So when Nikki teased her about Spencer breaking up with her because she cried a lot, it just made sense.

Who would like to date a crybaby?

Spencer Reid, of course.

Spencer was surrounded daily with death and murders. The darkest side of the world. That meant that having someone as pure and loving as (Y/N), who would literally cry of happiness when she saw him after a case, gave him hope. There were still good people out there. Good people who cried over the little things, ‘cos they cared. ‘Cos they were moved. ‘Cos they weren’t afraid to show their feelings.

Reid sighed and ran his fingers down (Y/N)’s hair sweetly. She was still sobbing, and his chest tightened at the idea of his sweet girlfriend being in pain.

- “Is there room in that tub for me?”- he whispered as he took out his shoes and stepped into the bathtub. Spencer sat behind her, wrapping his arms around her. He kissed her neck several times; his voice was a soft coo in his girlfriend’s ear.

- “I love you, (Y/N). All of you, including when you cry.”

- “But I cry over everything.”

- “That’s what I love the most about you”- he whispered and kissed her cheeks, intertwining his fingers with hers as he held her hands.

- “You are not a crybaby, and if anything, you are my baby. I love you so much, Boo”- (Y/N) shook her head and felt Spencer kissing her neck again.

- “I love you, (Y/N)”- he repeated and sighed- “You don’t know how much you mean to me.”

*

Spencer was sitting at his desk, staring at the empty space in front of him. He couldn’t take his mind from his girlfriend. Reid had never seen her that upset before. He felt he needed to make sure she knew how much he loved her and that crying didn’t bother him. On the contrary, he loved it.

- “Hey, Pretty boy. What’s in your mind?”- Morgan waved from his desk, and just Spencer shook his head.

- “Nothing”- Derek narrowed his brows and stood up.

- “You haven’t gotten any work done in over half an hour.”

- “What? are you timing my work now?”- Spencer answered, confused and in a high-pitched voice. He was getting annoyed easily ‘cos he was honestly upset.

- “No, I’m just saying there is clearly something bothering you. Everything ok?”

- “Yeah… I mean”- Reid sighed and looked at Morgan- “I just… think I need to talk to Garcia about it.”

- “Is it about (Y/N)? did you fight with your pretty girl?”

- “No, that’s not it.”

- “Then?”- Reid looked around. No one else was paying attention to their conversations.

- “She… we… it’s complicated”- Spencer sighed. If there was someone who could help him, that was Penelope García.

- “My poor baby!!”- Penelope wide opened her eyes as soon as Spencer finished telling her the story.

- “I’m ok, García”- he whispered and felt how his friend smacked her hand against his arm- “Auch!!”

- “I’m talking about (Y/N), genius!! I can’t believe people make fun of her for crying too much!!”

- “Well, if she really does cry over everything, I….”- Morgan stopped talking the second he noticed both Penelope and Spencer looked at him in shock.

- “No! I would never tease her about it”- he started explaining right away- “What I’m trying to say is that I can understand why some people might find that... Anyway. How can we help you?”

- “I need to find a way to make her feel I loved all the time,”- Spencer whispered, embarrassed- “I just need to show her I don’t care if she cries. I love her. I love everything about her. And being someone sensitive shouldn’t be something to be embarrassed about.”

- “Awww, my baby genius!”- Garcia wrapped an arm around Spencer and played with his hair for a second- “You are so sweet with your girlfriend.”

- “Well, I love her….”- he murmured, still ashamed to share his feelings so openly with his friends.

- “Then I’ve got an idea! And you are going to be on board with this, ‘cos it’s the best idea I’ve ever had!”- Penelope sentenced and clapped his hands, already excited.

*

- “Spencer!!”- (Y/N) walked into his apartment and waited for his reply- “I’m here!”

- “In the bedroom!!”- Spencer yelled and smiled in anticipation of what he wanted to show his girlfriend.

- “Hey!”- (Y/N) found him sitting on his bed, covered by a gigantic blanket- “What are you doing here? Are you cold? Do you feel sick? do you need anything?”

- “No, Boo, no”- Spencer quickly shook his head and smiled- “I’m fine. Just come here”- he tapped on the bed with a warm smile. (Y/N) sat next to him and frowned, confused.

- “I got you a present,”- Reid announced and pointed at a box by his side.

- “Why? I mean, thank you”- (Y/N) quickly replied, still confused. Spencer smiled, staring at her. The girl opened the present and widened her eyes in excitement as soon as she saw a pink polaroid camera.

- “This is amazing!!”- (Y/N) wrapped her arms around Spencer tight and leaned in to kiss his lips sweetly- “Thank you so much.”

- “I’m happy you like it, Boo.”

- “Why am I getting a new camera, by the way?”

- “Well…”- Spencer moved carefully closer to her and kissed her cheeks softly before saying.

- “I am away so often I thought we should take more pictures to carry with me. And that you can have with you all the time too.”

(Y/N) bit her lips, fighting the tears that were filling her eyes all of a sudden. (Y/N) could feel her chin quivering with each word Spencer said. She didn’t want to cry and embarrass herself in front of her boyfriend again.

But what he was saying was so sweet, she couldn’t help it.

- “Why don’t we take a picture now?”- he suggested, but she shook her head- “Why not?”

- “Because...”- (Y/N) took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She really didn’t want to cry in front of Reid.

- “Come on! Let’s take a picture with my new hoodie”- Spencer chuckled and removed the blanket that covered him. (Y/N) burst out laughing as soon as she saw it: Reid had a purple hoodie on with a cartoon of the two of them hugging and on top of it the phrase “I love my crybaby.”

- “What on earth?! Why? When did you...?”- (Y/N) chuckled and sobbed at the same time. Spencer opened his arms and wrapped them around her.

- “I love you, baby”- he whispered and kissed her cheek several times- “Now there’s no way you are going to forget it, ‘cos we are going to take a million pictures with this hoodie on, and I’m also never going to take it off again.”

- “I love you so much, Spencer”- (Y/N) pouted and kissed his lips over and over again.

- “I love you more”- he whispered against her lips- “You are my baby. Just mine, ok?”- (Y/N) nodded and giggled, kissing him again.

- “Your crybaby?”- she asked and he agreed, kissing her again.

- “My crybaby.”

*********

Taglist: @all-tings-diego​  @meowiemari​

[pregnant-piggy]

Snow

Remus Lupin x reader      part of the dad!marauders series

Words: 6.5k

A/N: this is the most fluffy thing i have ever written. I am so happy with this. Also, re-introducing Olivia in this fic, whom we have seen before in Butterflies. She’s back because i absolutely love her and y’know for the sake of the story... Anyway, I hope you like it! Comments much appreciated! Love ya

Dinner was silent without you. The table set for two instead of three made the air in the room miss some of that cosiness you always brought along. The small light from the lamp over the dining table was reflected on the silver forks and knives that lied on the table. Two glasses with water stood next to the white plates, waiting to be emptied.

You were gone for the weekend with your mother. Your father had gotten sick a few months ago and now he was finally better, you had wanted your mother to be able to take her mind off things. You had taken her to a spa, something she always enjoyed.

This morning you had left and Olivia had been in a sad mood ever since you had stepped foot out the door. Though she went to play and acted like everything was fine, Remus could see that she wasn’t really. He was surprised with how well she could keep up that happy mask; she was only four years old after all.

Olivia sat in her own chair, that her grandpa had made specially for her. She stared at the back of her dad in the kitchen, her eyes focused on his shoulders and the way they moved to the music he had put on. She played with the stuffed wolf in her hand, the animal that had been with her since she was one year old. The colours had faded lightly in the past three years as if it had lied in the sun for a while. The grey was no longer the dark grey it used to be and the softness was now gone. But Olivia had it with her at all times.

‘Five more minutes, darling,’ Remus said and he sat down at the table in front of his daughter.

Olivia continued to play with her wolf and Remus felt a familiar, warm feeling spreading in his body. You had given the stuffed animal to her on her first birthday. Though your daughter didn’t know the real reason behind the gift, Remus did and his heart softened every time he saw Olivia play with it.

The oven pinged and Remus shot up from his chair. He was hungry; he had worked later than usual forgetting that you weren’t around to remind him to make dinner. It had been Olivia who had opened the door of his library and asked him when dinner was going to be ready.

A frozen pizza, that Remus had found at the bottom of the freezer, had been put in the oven quickly.

Olivia was quiet during dinner. She stared at her plate and picked the mushrooms of her pizza with her little fingers. The little ring that used to be yours glimmered in the light. She always wore that even when she was asleep. Sometimes Remus worried that it could hurt her in her sleep, but you always reassured him that nothing could happen.

‘Don’t you like the pizza?’ Remus asked carefully, knowing the littlest thing could upset his daughter; something she had gotten from you.

‘I do,’ Olivia sighed and dropped her slice of pizza on her plate.

‘What’s wrong, baby?’

‘I miss mommy,’ Olivia said, her voice soft and the tears threatening to fall from her eyes.

Remus got up from his chair and kneeled down next to Olivia. He put both his arms around her and allowed her to rest her head on his shoulder. His big hand rubbed her warm back and he felt a few tears through his shirt.

‘Oh, Liv,’ Remus spoke softly. ‘Mommy will be home Sunday. Don’t you want to tell her how much fun you have had with daddy?’

Olivia snuffed into Remus’ shoulder and nodded. She lifted her head from his neck and looked at him. He wiped the tears off her cheeks with his thumbs and placed a kiss on her forehead, like he used to do to you when you were sad. Olivia smiled and she turned back to her plate, eating the pizza with a small grin, while she talked to the stuffed animal that sat next to her on a chair.

Remus sat back in his chair and watched his daughter. She truly was the light in his life. He could not imagine a life without her, without her bubbly presence and her cute smiles or her giggles.

The rest of the night Olivia wasn’t sad anymore. It was Friday night so that meant that she could stay up a little later than usual. While she sat in Remus’ lap, her eyes were glued to the TV. A lousy talent show played on the screen, while Remus read his book and tried to answer Olivia’s questions at the same time.

It was nice to have some alone time with his daughter. Though it happened enough that he was alone with her, it rarely was a whole weekend. Usually it was you who was alone with Olivia, whenever Remus was away at the full moon.

Remus knew Olivia’s personality through and through; he had had years of practice with you. Your daughter was the exact copy of you to Remus. She had Remus’ eyes and hair, but the rest of her was just like you. The same nose, the same lips and the same way you smacked them when you didn’t like something. You both could act crazy in the same way and Olivia’s laugh was the same as yours.

‘Daddy?’ Olivia asked and Remus looked up from his book. Olivia had turned around between his legs and was looking at him with her big eyes. ‘What are you reading?’

Remus opened his arm so Olivia could rest against his chest and started to talk about the book he was reading, glad that it wasn’t such a complicated book. Olivia listened with interest and asked more questions. You always said that Olivia was just as a nerd as Remus and though Remus always debated the term ‘nerd’, he knew that you were right. His daughter was a smart little girl and she was interested in a great deal of things.

It wasn’t until Olivia yawned that Remus realised how late it was. He quickly closed his book and placed it on the couch while he took Olivia in his arms. He walked with her through the cold hallway and up the stairs, wondering why it was suddenly so cold.

While Olivia attempted to brush her own teeth, Remus looked for her pyjamas. He found them on her pillow neatly folded and a little note from you with a heart on it on top of them. He took the clothes and placed the note back on the pillow. With the pyjamas in his arms he walked to the bathroom, where he found Olivia on the floor with her toothbrush in her mouth, while she brushed the mouth of her stuffed wolf with another toothbrush, luckily without toothpaste.

Remus chuckled and sat down next to her. He took her small face on one hand and asked her to open her mouth so he could brush her teeth with the other hand. Olivia sang the how to brush your teeth song and Remus laughed when she accidentally bit on the toothbrush.

When he was done he helped her rinse her mouth and then he helped her into her pyjamas. Olivia shivered when her warm sweater was pulled over her head and she was left in her underwear. She crossed her arms over her body and Remus didn’t fail to notice the goose bumps all over her skin. He quickly warmed the pyjamas with a quick wave of his wand and Olivia stared at the wooden stick with her big eyes. Magic wasn’t new to her at all, you and Remus had both agreed to let your daughter get used to it while also fitting in with the muggle world, but every time she saw it her eyes lit up. She seemed to have forgotten about the cold as she asked Remus to do something.

‘Do the bubbles!’ she exclaimed and she clapped her hands in excitement as Remus casted bubbles to fly around in the small bathroom.

Once Olivia lied in bed and Remus had read her a bedtime story, she closed her eyes and fell asleep promptly. It had been a long day for her; this morning she had woken up early and it was late at night now.

Remus pressed a kiss to her head and tucked her in once again, making sure she would not get cold. Not that it would help, his daughter turned so much in her sleep that it was inevitable that the sheets would lose their embrace around her.

- - - - -

The cold night even reached to Remus when he lied in bed. He had his sweater on and even woollen socks, but his toes were still cold and he couldn't suppress a shiver every time he moved under the duvet. He couldn’t fall asleep. He didn’t know that was because it was cold or because you weren’t next to him. He had gotten so used to falling asleep with your arms around him, that it was hard to do so when you weren’t around. No matter how tired he was, he just couldn’t catch any sleep.

So instead he just lied with his eyes closed in his bed, the sheets pulled up to under his chin. It had been cold this winter, but not this cold yet. With a little luck there would maybe even be some snow tomorrow. Then he would have something to do with Olivia.

The little girl loved the snow. It didn’t happen very often that there was snow, the last time had been last year and then it was only for two days. It might have been the happiest days of Olivia’s winter. The big smile that was on her face, Remus could clearly remember.

He didn’t when he had started to drift off, but he was woken roughly by a tug on his duvet. He turned his head to see what was going on and he was faced with Olivia’s teared eyes. Immediately he sat up in his bed and pulled his daughter against his chest. She sobbed lightly in his sweater. He wrapped his arms around her and hid her cold feet under the blanket after feeling they were like ice.

‘What is wrong, love?’ Remus whispered as he placed a kiss on the top of Olivia’s head.

‘I miss mommy so bad,’ she said with a trembling voice and she hugged her wolf closer to her little chest. ‘And I’m cold.’

‘Oh, sweetheart,’ Remus mumbled. He lied back down and placed Olivia next to him. He pulled the sheets up to her chin and he wrapped his arm around her. She crawled closer to his chest and lied her head next to him on his pillow.

They lied in silence for a while, the only sound the soft sobs of Olivia, that calmed down more and more. Remus wiped away the tears from her face and rubbed her back, hoping to warm her up a little. He felt the fatigue taking over him, but he had to stay awake at least until Olivia had fallen asleep.

But Olivia did not seem to have any plans to fall asleep soon. She stared with her big eyes at Remus, who had more trouble to keep his eyes open with the minute.

‘Go to sleep, Liv,’ he mumbled and stroke his big hand over her face so she would close her eyes.

But she opened them again and now started to play with the neck of Remus’ sweater. Her little fingers ran up and down over the hem and tucked on it ever so often. Remus chuckled lightly and took her hand in his. She looked up to him and he closed his eyes for a second.

‘Close your eyes, love,’ Remus tried again and now Olivia closed her eyes, but she opened one slightly and looked at Remus. A giggle escaped her mouth as Remus sighed and shook his head. ‘Come on, Olivia! If you go to sleep now we can play in the snow tomorrow.’

Remus had said the magic words. Olivia’s eyes widened and she stared at Remus.

‘Snow? Is there snow?’ she asked excitedly.

‘There will be if you go to sleep now,’ Remus said placing a kiss on Olivia’s forehead.

She closed her eyes and soon she drifted off to sleep. Her steady breaths filled the cold bedroom and Remus finally let the sleep take over him. He knew he should carry Olivia to her own bed, but he was too tired to do so. So instead he fell asleep with his daughter hugging onto his chest, listening to his heartbeat as she dreamt of the snow.

- - - - -

As the morning sun shone through the crack between the curtains, Remus woke up with two small hands hugging his waist. He carefully removed the two hands and placed them on the stuffed wolf that lied at Olivia’s feet. He lifted the duvet a little, enough so he could slip from it and tucked it around his daughter’s small figure. He walked out of the bedroom and went to the kitchen, hoping that pancakes would make Olivia forget that her mother wasn’t around.

Soft music played through the kitchen as Remus began to make the pancakes. He was stirring the bowl when he heard soft footsteps into the kitchen. He turned around and smiled at Olivia, who stood in the doorframe clinging onto her stuffed wolf as she watched Remus with her big eyes. She slowly made her way over to her chair and as she climbed into it and dropped the wolf, she sighed dramatically. Remus couldn’t keep from chuckling, but quickly turned around and stopped as she saw the glare his daughter was giving him.

‘Do you want pancakes, Liv?’ Remus asked over his shoulder when Olivia had climbed into her chair.

Remus couldn’t see her face, since he was still bowed over the kitchen counter with his back to his daughter, but when she spoke he heard that there was a small smile on her pretty face.

‘Yes, daddy.’

Olivia climbed off her chair and ran towards Remus, hugging her arms around his legs. Remus had to hold onto the counter to not fall over at the sudden weight and he laughed softly, stroking his hand over Olivia’s head. She looked up to him with her big golden eyes and her precious smile. The smile that could make Remus do anything.

‘Here,’ Remus said and he gave to plates to Olivia. ‘Bring these to the table, while I make the pancakes.’

Olivia wobbled on her feet under the weight of the heavy plates. She placed the plates, what was for her, carefully on the table and then returned to Remus for a next task. Keeping one eye on the pancakes in the pan and the other on Olivia as she was setting the table, breakfast was soon finished.

Olivia was sitting in her chair, her knife and fork in her hands and the wolf on the chair next to her, like it had been at dinner last night. She was talking enthusiastically to it as Remus placed a platter with pancakes in between them. Olivia stopped talking as the scent of food reached her nose and a big smile appeared on her sleepy face when she saw the pancakes.

‘What do you want to do today?’ Remus asked in between bites.

‘Play in the snow!’ Olivia exclaimed and she looked over her shoulder through the window.

It had indeed snowed last night, just as Remus had thought. The street was hidden under a blanket of snow and the light blue sky that stretched out over the neighbour houses, made it seem like a little fairy tale and not the street they were living in. The edges of the window were frozen, little ice crystals making their way up to the middle of the glass.

Olivia kept staring outside, the piece of pancake on her fork staying in front of her mouth. She watched the old man that lived two houses away walk through the snow with his dog. The small animal jumped in the snow, barking happily when his legs disappeared in the snow. Olivia laughed happily and only turned back when the dog and owner had disappeared. Her pancakes had turned cold, but it didn’t seem to bother her. She wolfed the rest of her breakfast in and then looked up to her dad.

‘Done,’ she said, with her mouth full of food. She went to grab her glass with orange juice, while Remus took the last pancake on the plate. Olivia chewed fast on the pancake in her mouth, her hands clasped around the glass. She swallowed her last bite and drank her juice quickly.

‘Not too fast, you’ll get stomach ache,’ Remus said, looking at how the orange juice rapidly disappeared in his daughter’s mouth.

‘No, I won’t,’ Olivia said with her mouth still in her glass, shaking her head.

Remus sighed; he would never win this battle. Olivia was just as stubborn as you, though you always said that she had that from Remus. Maybe that said enough.

Olivia placed her glass back on the table and looked at Remus. He chuckled at the juice-moustache that had formed above her upper lip and reached over the table to wipe it away with his thumb.

‘Why don’t you pick out clothes, while daddy cleans up?’ Remus said, licking the orange juice off his finger.

Olivia fled quickly from the kitchen and Remus heard her stamping on the stairs. He collected the plates and glasses and put them in the sink, doubting whether he should do the dishes now or later. Later would be fine, he decided and left the kitchen, following his daughter’s tracks on the stairs.

- - - - -

‘Daddy look what I can do!’

Remus looked up from the bench at the front door. Olivia and him had gone outside now two hours ago and while Remus was more than done with the cold, he didn’t want to cut the fun Olivia was having. Remus hadn’t seen her this exited in a while and it warmed his heart to see his daughter with such a big smile on her face. She was jumping up and down, making snow angels in the snow and with the help of Remus she had made a snowman, who currently stood watching Olivia collect snow with her small hands and throw little snowballs at the tree in the front yard.

‘Good job!’ Remus said and he waved at Olivia as she hit the tree with her snowball.

Remus’ hands slowly had lost any feeling and the same was about to happen to his feet. He was sitting in his thickest coat on the wooden bench near the front door, a book in his hand that was long forgotten as he had noticed that Olivia was quite clumsy when it came to snow. She had fallen at least twelve times now and though it wasn’t like she had hurt herself, Remus was worried that one time she would. Besides, his fingers were too cold to even turn the pages.

After another half hour Remus thought that it had been enough. With any luck the snow would still be there tomorrow and then Olivia could play outside again. But right now Remus felt like he was made of ice and he knew that Olivia was cold too; in the small minutes that she had come to Remus to tell him something he had seen that her cheeks were getting more red and her lips more purple.

She didn’t even complain when Remus suggested they went inside for lunch and hot chocolate. She followed him back inside the warm house and sighed when the door was closed.

‘What is the matter?’ Remus asked as he took off his coat and then helped Olivia with hers.

‘Who is watching Mr. Snowman now?’ she pouted as Remus unzipped her dark blue winter coat.

‘Maybe you can look at him from the window in the living room,’ Remus said as he took of her mittens. Olivia jumped and nearly hit Remus in his face with her hands. He chuckled and bowed forward so she could lean on him while he took off her boots. Her cold hand grabbed the fabric on Remus’ sweater and the other was placed on his head when she lost her balance.

‘Left foot,’ Remus said and Olivia lifted her foot. He took off the boot and sock, that was completely wet. ‘Right foot.’ The other foot followed and the same happened. The bottom of Olivia’s leggings was wet too and Remus ordered her to take them off.

‘I’ll get you warm, dry clothes,’ he said, pulling a weird face as he smelled the sock, making Olivia laugh. ‘You go into the living room and see if Mr. Snowman is still there.’

Olivia ran off to the living room in her pink underwear and sweater and Remus quickly returned with warm pants and two different socks. Olivia was stuck at the window, her eyes focused on the snowman outside and she waved at it as if to say goodbye when Remus walked into the room.

‘I don’t know what mommy does with your socks, but I can’t find two the same,’ Remus sighed and he sat down next to Olivia on the couch. ‘Elephant on right or left?’

The girl put out her right foot and Remus put the sock on. The sock with the giraffe followed on her other foot and when the pants were put on Olivia ran back to the window, this time taking her wolf with her. Remus watched his daughter talk to her stuffed animal and admired how happy she looked. He never could have imagined to have a wife that loved him unconditionally let alone a daughter that was just as dear to him. Sometimes he wondered why he deserved it all, how could someone like him have such a happy bubble around him?

‘Do you want hot chocolate?’ Remus asked and Olivia turned around and cheered as she ran to the kitchen.

Remus followed her quickly and was surprised to find Olivia looking in the right cabinet. As she pulled out the cocoa and stood on her toes to place it on the counter, she started to babble to Remus about how you always made hot chocolate on the nights Remus was away.

- - - - -

The afternoon was filled with merry. Olivia played on her own for a while, until she wanted to know what Remus was reading. He took her in his lap and together they read a for a while. Though Olivia didn’t quite understood what the book was about, her reading was definitely improving.

Though Olivia would go to Hogwarts when she was older, Remus and you had wanted her to learn the basics, just like you two had done. You as a muggleborn and Remus as half-blood had both enjoyed the education of primary school. You wanted the same for your daughter. She was keen to learn and home school was discussed, but both you and Remus had a job and the option of going to a muggle school seemed the easier option. Plus, in that way Olivia could make friends better than when she was at home all day.

She was only four and would turn five in May, so she would not go to school until after the upcoming summer, but Remus had taken the job to teach her how to read. Luckily Olivia was a smart student and the reading went easily on her. It wasn’t much that she knew, she was yet so young, but Remus thought that every little bit would help her. And so, once a day, mostly before bed, he would read with her. It didn’t have to be long, just a page of her favourite book was enough.

After the reading, Olivia watched a film while Remus concentrated on the newspapers of this day, for which he hadn’t got the time to read yet. He was deep in an article about Gringotts new policy, when the phone ringed. Olivia was so concentrated on the talking bees from the movie that she didn’t hear it.

‘Remus here,’ Remus said and he walked to the kitchen, not wanting to disturb his daughter.

‘Hey Rem!’ your voice sounded back and Remus smiled.

‘Hey love. How is it going? Are you having fun?’

‘So much. Mom and I went to get massages this morning and we did face masks this afternoon. Oh, it is so nice here, Rem. We even have access to mimosas throughout the whole day!’ you giggled.

In the background Remus could hear your mother giggle along with you and he sniffed happily in the phone. ‘How many did you have?’

‘Just a couple,’ you said back, Remus hearing by your voice that it was definitely more than a couple. ‘How is it going at home? I heard it snowed.’

‘It did,’ Remus answered. ‘I spent the entire morning outside with Olivia and now she is watching a film. She did miss you last night, however.’

‘I miss her too. And you. I couldn’t sleep last night, though the mimosas did help a bit.’

‘I couldn’t sleep either. But we’ll see you tomorrow! Don’t worry about us, we are having fun, love,’ Remus said and he looked up when Olivia entered the kitchen. She stood hesitantly at in the doorway, her small hand resting on the door frame.

‘Who is that?’ she asked curious and tilted her head a little.

‘It’s mommy,’ Remus answered. ‘Do you want to talk to her?’

‘Mommy!’ Olivia yelled and she ran over to the phone. Remus put Olivia on the chair with the phone in her hand and then turned to the kitchen to make dinner. He listened to Olivia talk about the snowman she had made and the snowballs she had thrown at the tree.

After a while, Olivia gave the phone back to Remus after giving kisses to it. She ran back to the living room, probably to continue her film. Remus took back the phone and pressed it between his ear and his shoulder.

‘She seems to be having fun,’ you said and Remus could hear your smile through the phone.

‘I know that it isn’t how our weekends usually go, but she missed you and I couldn’t stand to see her sad.’

‘Don’t worry, dear, it’s fine.’

‘Listen, I have to finish dinner and you have to get back to your mom,’ Remus said and he put down the knife so he could take the phone in his hand. ‘I will see you tomorrow, don’t rush.’

‘Okay, I love you,’ you said.

‘I love you too.’

- - - - -

Olivia stood on a stool at the sink in the bathroom, watching herself in the mirror as she brushed her teeth. Remus stood behind her, brushing her wet hair. He had taken her in bath, hoping it would tire her a bit so she would fall asleep fast. And when he looked at her and saw her tired eyes, he realised that it had helped.

He put the brush aside and helped her brushing her teeth. She opened her mouth, but it closed more and more the longer it took and Remus had to ask her to open her mouth every time. She giggled when Remus reached the back of her mouth and the toothbrush tickled the back of her tongue. Her eyes squeezed shut and stayed there more a moment before she opened them again. Remus took the brush from her mouth and declared that it was enough for now.

In her room, Remus helped her into her warmest pyjamas, hoping that this time she wouldn’t wake up from the cold. In her pink with crocodiles pyjamas, Olivia pressed a wet kiss to Remus’ cheek and then lied down in her bed. He tucked her in tightly and her eyes closed as soon as the blankets were put over her. Remus brushed the hair out of her face and kissed her softly on her forehead. Olivia’s eyes fluttered open and she smiled at her father.

‘I love you, daddy,’ she mumbled.

‘I love you too, sweetheart,’ Remus whispered back.

Olivia put out her arms to take Remus in a hug and he leaned forward, his knees on the floor. Olivia’s small arms were wrapped around his neck and he felt her hot breath on his neck. He pulled back and placed a quick kiss on her nose. She giggled at the feeling and wiped her nose with her sleeve. Remus brushed his hand through her hair one more time and smiled at his daughter.

‘Goodnight, Olivia.’

Olivia closed her eyes and Remus left her room, keeping the door ajar so he could hear when she called for him. He went downstairs and looked at the mess in the living room. The worst part was that it was mostly his mess. Olivia had put her toys away in her toy box in the corner of the room. It was Remus’ mess that made the room look terrible. Two coffee mugs on the table, next to a few parchments and a book. On the couch lied the newspapers that he still hadn’t finished and pair of socks. The TV was still on and a dim light flickered into the room. On the desk in the corner of the room, was an even bigger mess. But Remus’ workspace was always a mess and no matter how often you asked him to clean it, he never did, knowing that it would be the same mess the minute he would start working.

So instead of being bothered by his desk, Remus cleared out the coffee table, turned off the TV and took his newspaper. He reread the article about Gringotts, since he had already forgotten what it was about, and realised that the rest of the paper was rather a lack of information.

Remus sat down at his desk, hoping to maybe get some work done. But his paper stayed empty, his mind was too tired to come up with a review now. The book he had to review lied in front of him and Remus studied the cover.

After fifteen minutes he gave up and placed himself with a cup of tea on the couch, zapping through the channels. He found a film and soon was involved in a plot of a murder, flight and criminals. The sounds of fighting sounded through the living room as Remus’ eyes were glued to the TV. Though Remus wasn’t a particular big fan of thriller movies, sometimes he could enjoy them. It was a hour or two of not thinking and just watching.

It was past midnight when the film finished with the ‘good guy’ killing the ‘bad guy’. Since the ‘bad guy’ only had killed one man, Remus wondered how good the ‘good guy’ was. He turned off the TV, turned down the lights and went upstairs.

He checked Olivia’s room and found his daughter fast asleep, her stuffed wolf in her hand and her hair around her like a halo. This was one of Remus’ favourite views. There was something so peaceful and innocent about his daughter in her sleep. It reminded him of you, the way she grabbed onto the sheets and the pucker on her lips.

Soon Remus lied in his own bed, looking through the crack between the curtains at the dark sky. It was clouded; the dark grey clouds hid the dark blue sky filled with stars. This was Remus favourite time of the month. The full moon had been two weeks ago, meaning he had yet two weeks before the next one would come. It also meant that at this moment there was no moon at all in the sky and something about that thought comforted Remus.

With his mind running off to the dark blue heavens, Remus fell asleep quickly, not bothered by the cold or your absence this night.

- - - - -

Sunday morning was spent in Remus’ bed. Olivia had crawled into your spot and she talked with her dad about what she had dreamt. Then she proceeded to wonder about Mr. Snowman and how he had slept. Remus chuckled as the listened to his daughter’s imaginary stories and closed his eyes for a moment.

‘Daddy, you’re not listening!’ Olivia cried out and she dropped her body on Remus’ chest to get him to open his eyes.

‘I am, Olivia, I am!’ he sputtered and he pushed Olivia off him.

‘Why were your eyes closed?’

‘I can listen and close my eyes at the same time,’ Remus defended himself.

Olivia sat cross-legged on the bed and shook her head with a serious look on her face. ‘Mommy says that when you close your eyes you’re not listening.’

Remus raised his eyebrow at his daughter and then burst out into laughter. He took Olivia in his arms and peppered her face with kisses. She started to giggle and tried to free herself from his grip. She squirmed in his arms and after a while Remus lessened his grip and she crawled away from him. Panting and laughing she sat at your pillow, staring at Remus with sparkly eyes.

‘Did it snow?’ she asked.

‘I don’t know,’ Remus answered; he hadn’t left his bed yet.

‘Can’t you look?’

‘I can look, but so can you.’

‘But I’m too small!’ Olivia exclaimed and a smirk crossed on her face.

Remus shook his head chuckling and he pulled the sheets of his body. Immediately the cold found its way to his warm body and he shivered. Quickly he put on his sweatpants and a different sweater. He helped Olivia off the bed and lifter her on his hip. She pulled the curtains aside and looked outside.

‘Snow!’ she exclaimed happily when she saw the white backyard. She pressed her nose to the glass and looked at the snow.

Remus put her down again and she ran to her room, taking the same clothes as yesterday and throwing them on Remus’ bed. She pulled her pyjamas over her head and struggled to put the sweater on herself. Remus sat down on his knees in front of her and guided her head through the hole. An enthusiastic head popped out from the neck of the sweater and Remus laughed before pressing a kiss to Olivia’s forehead.

‘Can I play outside? Please?’ she asked.

‘You can, but first we need to eat breakfast, darling,’ Remus said as he helped Olivia into her leggings.

She didn’t waste a minute and as soon as her sock were on, she rushed downstairs to the kitchen. Remus followed her and found her in the kitchen with the box of cereal in her hands. He took it from her and placed it on the table.

‘Go sit down.’

Olivia followed his order and sat down in her chair, for once haven forgotten her stuffed animal. She waited patiently for Remus to put down two bowls and give her a spoon. He put the cereal in her bowl and the milk followed after. She dove into her breakfast and spilled some milk on the table in doing so. Remus cleaned it with a flick of his wand and Olivia looked amazed at the now clean spot.

After breakfast Olivia ran outside and Remus had to call her back to put on her coat and mittens. As he zipped up the coat while Olivia was jumping up and down in her excitement to go outside, he said: ‘I am going to do the dishes, will you be careful?’

Olivia nodded and captured her dad’s mouth with a quick kiss before she hurried outside. Remus stood in the door and watched for a moment as Olivia started to dance around the snowman. After making sure nothing could happen to her, Remus turned back inside and put on the kettle as he charmed the dishes to do themselves. He glanced at today’s newspaper and then decided to take it outside.

With his tea in one hand and the newspaper under his arm, Remus sat down on the bench again, making a promise with himself not to stay out so long as yesterday. But his promise was soon forgotten as he watched Olivia play. He charmed his tea to stay warm so his fingers wouldn’t freeze this time.

Time passed quickly. Olivia was making snow angels in the snow and decorating them with things she found in the garden and Remus was reading the newspaper, that just like yesterday, had not much in it. His attention was pulled away from an article about illegal transport across the Atlantic Ocean by a creak of the fence. He looked up and was surprised to see you.

‘Mommy!’ Olivia cheered when she noticed her mother. She got up from her spot, where she had been on her knees drawing faces in her snow angel, and jumped in your arms. You dropped your bag and caught Olivia.

‘Liv, be careful with your mom,’ Remus said as he came closer.

You shifted Olivia over to the side and kissed Remus. He took your bag and brought you inside. Olivia was talking happily about what she had done this weekend and didn’t stop when you put her down and took off your coat.

‘Come on, darling, give mommy some time,’ Remus chuckled as he took of Olivia’s coat. ‘Why don’t you go to the kitchen and grab the things we need for the hot chocolate?’

Olivia smiled and ran to the kitchen, nearly slipping on her wet socks. Remus hung up her coat and then turned to you. He wrapped arms around you and you buried your face in his sweater.

‘I didn’t expect you so early,’ Remus said as you pulled away and took off your shoes.

‘It was this train or one later at night and actually we were both a bit done at the spa. So we decided to take the early train. I dropped mom off at home,’ you said as you walked with Remus to the kitchen.

There you found Olivia proudly standing in front of the counter. She had the cocoa in her hands and was waiting for Remus to help her. He lifted her and placed her on the counter. Together they made the hot cocoa while you sat at the dining table and talked about your trip.

When the hot chocolate was done and all three of you were sitting at the table, Olivia continued to talk about her weekend. Remus smiled at her and nodded along. He looked at you and you glanced back with a smile on your face. It was good to be home.

- - - - - 

taglists:

dad!marauders: @wassup-peoples​ @iamak20​

Remus: @racerparker @susceptible-but-siriusexual

marauders: @secretsthathauntus @ronniethelost @sognatrice-as-a-hobby @hxrgreeves @wecouldbreakthedistance @valentina-007

general HP: @kitkatkl @girllety @yuptha-tsme @sleep-i-ness @iamak20 @thefuturelawyer @weasleydream @missmulti @deafgirltingz @moonstarrnghtsky @bloodblossom73 @mytreec @lilulo-12fanfiction @emmaloo21 @kashishwrites @ananad1

let me know if you want to be added/removed!

MASTERLIST

[yoonjinkooked]

Kitchen Confidential | Jin | FINAL

Pairing: Seokjin / Reader

Rating: 18+

Genre: Enemies to lovers, chef AU

Warnings: explicit sex, cursing, no longer a slow burn ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°), unprotected sex (don’t do that), traces of a biting kink, oral (f receiving), short handjob, feelings. A LOT of mentions of food, so you’ll most likely be very hungry for both food and Kim Seokjin. 

Word Count: 9k+, previous chapters total to 16k

Summary: After years of annoying the life out of you, your rival, Kim Seokjin, pushes you a step too far and he knows it. As angry and resentful as you are, you don’t realize that something has been brewing under the surface for years. This weekend, that will change.

Read previous parts here: 1  /  2  /  3  

SPINOFF ANNOUNCEMENT: COMING SOON, JUNGKOOK’S STORY IN THE SAME UNIVERSE AS KITCHEN CONFIDENTIAL

A/N: And it’s done! This one took a while but I’m proud of myself for finishing this fic. I’m more responsible with my writing each day, and that includes actually finishing the stories I start. I have a few ongoing ones and a few wips that I am yet to post but Jungkook’s spinoff will come soon. If all goes according to plan, I will have about...20ish fics in 2021? So, let’s hope all DOES go according to plan. Thank you for following through with this story. Let me know what you think! 

Yesterday was something else entirely.

You may or may not have called Jungkook more than ten times. Of course, you had complete faith in him and deep down, you knew he was more than capable of running the kitchen without you but it didn’t hurt to check, did it? So you did. Ten times, before he threatened to block your number, which then had you dialing Namjoon. You had reassured him that your leg is perfectly fine and that you are perfectly capable of standing through service for one night. He insisted that you should rest and that they have everything under control. Which you believed, you really did but you still wanted to check. You’ve stopped calling when he threatened to fire you.

Today was a different story. With no news of a fire breaking out in Bonsai’s kitchen, you were noticeably more relaxed, ready to spend the entire day with your leg propped on a pillow, a tube of ice cream in your hands while rewatching the first season of The Office. All was going according to plan by the time the doorbell rang.

Looking at the clock, you see that it is only 7PM - Bonsai was still open, probably ready for dinner rush hour. It couldn’t be Jungkook and he is quite literally the only person who drops by unannounced whenever he pleases. Did you order food and had a memory blank? You were going to order the house specialty from that new fancy Italian place at the other side of town, just to keep an eye on competition. But did you actually order it? Or are you going crazy?

The doorbell rings again and begrudgingly, you start getting up. “Coming!” you yell, grabbing your wallet as you go, wondering if you even have enough spare change for a tip. No longer wobbling, you simply walk slowly and unlock the door, your jaw dropping when you open it.

On the other side of the door, with a goofy smile on his face and his hands full of paper shopping bags is no one other than Kim Seokjin himself.

“Hi,” he offers a greeting and you could swear you see nerves hiding behind the smile - sure enough, when you stay silent for a second too long, still too confused to speak, you see the tip of his ears turning red. That always used to happen whenever one of the teachers at culinary school was about to taste his dish in front of the entire class. And you probably shouldn’t be aware of that.

“Um… to what do I owe the pleasure?” you ask, once you can finally speak.

“I took a day off,” he announces, as if that is the only explanation you need. “I figured since you’re still officially on sick leave and your leg must hurt, you probably don’t want to cook,” he trails off, his ears now becoming redder. “I guess I just wanted to do something nice.”

“You want to make me dinner?” you check if you heard him correctly. This entire situation seems like a figment of your imagination, a very bizarre one at that. And you don’t even want to know how he knew where you live - that can of worms is not going to be opened.

“Yeah,” he nods proudly. “I mean, I’ll eat too, if you let me,” he jokes and when you stay silent, the smile slowly melts from his face. Realizing that you are leaving him hanging, you step aside to let him in.

“Come on in, the kitchen is the second door on the right,” you inform him and watch, still in a state of shock, as he takes off his shoes in the hallway before making his way down the hallway. That’s when you finally snap out of it, realizing that you won’t have enough time to process this as it’s happening. “What are we making?” you ask as you follow him into the kitchen.

“We are not making anything,” he emphasised as he sets the bags down on the kitchen island, before turning to face you with a stern expression, which instantly makes you feel like a scolded child. “I will be doing all the work as you sit back, relax and have a glass of wine. Unless you’re taking meds for your leg? I didn’t think of that,” he mumbles softly, frowning at the ground.

“No meds,” you inform him. His solemn expression turns bright so fast, you think you might be experiencing whiplash. What the fuck is going on here?! “What are you making?”

“I was wondering what would make an enjoyable, hearty meal that could speed up your recovery process,” he starts explaining. You want to tell him that a leg injury can’t be cured with food but you bite your tongue, not wanting to appear hostile, especially not when he’s in the middle of his grand gesture. You watch as he starts taking the ingredients out of the shopper bags - not one, but two bottles of Pinot Noir, the expensive kind too, followed by mushrooms, a whole bunch of veggies and one gigantic chunk of meat. It’s wrapped, but judging by his choice of wine, it has to be beef.

“You’re making beef stew?” you guess, surprised but not disappointed by his choice of dish. He, on the other hand, seems offended.

“What do you take me for?” he asks, very obviously exaggerating his reaction. “I’m a trained chef, Y/N. I’m making beef bourguignon.”

“Which is just a slightly fancier version of a beef stew,” you laugh, using humour to avoid thinking about the cook and prep time of beef bourguignon - at the very least three hours, even more if you want to Julia Child it and let it simmer properly. More than three hours with Kim Seokjin, in a row, without anyone around to hide behind? “Sounds good!” you lie, trying to look excited because you truly don’t want to ruin something that just seems like a nice gesture.

“Perfect!” he beams at you. “Now, where do you keep your chopping boards?”

No, you don’t have the time to think about it, not while it’s literally ongoing. You shake your head and decide to roll with the punches. “I want to help you, though. I can’t just sit here and let you do all the work. Not to mention how wrong it feels to have someone cooking in my kitchen,” you add, realizing that no one other than yourself ever cooked here - no one, ever.

“The cupboard under the sink,” you tell him as you sit down drag a chair towards the kitchen island, worried about the predicament you are in. First, the feelings, the ones you have shamelessly pushed under the rug and had refused to acknowledge. They have blindsided you and you can’t even properly define and understand him and now he is here, in your apartment, your kitchen, making dinner.

Not to mention that you aren’t exactly wearing your Sunday best. He’s all jeans and an elegant blue sweater, while you’re in mis-matched sweatpants and sweatshirt, which are both a size or two too big for you. Your hair is a mess and frankly, you can’t even recall if you’d washed your face this morning. You are a mess, both physically and emotionally and he has cornered you, most likely without even realizing it.

“In that case, you can peel and chop,” he starts laughing at your exasperated expression. “Come on, don’t look at me like that - I’m trying to do something nice here. The point is for you to relax and enjoy a good meal, a meal that someone else has cooked for you. And if you do insist on helping, then you can peel and chop.”

There’s a lump in your throat and you think you know why. It’s the feelings, they’re making you feel touched by his actions. He is spending his day off here, doing something nice for you, on his own free will? Just a week ago, all of this would have been a major red flag. And now it’s just something that makes you feel thankful, giddy even.

“Give me my peeler then,” you say, holding the palm of your hand open, waiting.

He smirks at you, shaking his head with what looks like disbelief and you smirk back, unable to stop yourself. The not so subtle stare off between you isn’t uncomfortable. It’s miles away from the feeling you had over the weekend, when you were straight up avoiding making direct eye contact with him. This time, you’re keeping it up, smiling when he is the one who breaks. He turns around and opens one of the drawers, finding the peeler on the first try before leaning over the island and handing it to you with a smirk still present on his face.

“Let’s start working, chef.”

The decision to slow down with the wine after your first glass was a good one. Not only is the wine one of the best ones you’ve tasted in a while, you also wanted to keep a clear head. Alcohol tends to greatly weaken your brain to mouth filter and that can’t happen when you’re one on one with Seokjin. You don’t want to ruin the evening. 

It felt as if he was the same Seokjin he was back when you first started school. The interesting, charming guy with a good sense of humor. He can still act over the top, which he did, but he was more toned down than usual. Is usual even the right word? It’s not, not when you don’t have much to compare it to. This is the first time the two of you have been alone for more than a few minutes, simply talking and enjoying the conversation. 

“You can’t be serious,” Seokjin laughs, putting one of the plates that he was washing back in the sink to turn around and give you a doubtful look. “You mean outside the subway, right?” 

“Nope, it was below ground, right around the corner from the trains,” you confirm, remembering that day clearly. “I remember that I was starving, so maybe that’s why the croissant was so good. It was cheap, on a Parisian subway and it still is my favorite food memory from Paris.”

“You’re picking that subway croissant over… ratatouille or bouillabaisse?” 

“I said favorite, not the most delicious one,” you point out with a laugh. “Travelling and eating go hand in hand, at least to me. Wherever I went, I’ve made a point to spend a good amount of my budget just on food. I’d go where the locals go, try food I didn’t recognize… Honestly, I miss that. I’m limited to one vacation a year and it’s usually just one destination.”

“I get that,” he tells you as he continues washing the dishes, which he insisted to do, despite your multiple offers to at least cover the clean up part of the evening. “A good friend of mine lives in Greece, owns an amazing restaurant. I’ve gone there for the past three years and don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining, I live for Greek food. But I want to explore more, you know?” 

“That’s very relatable,” you sigh, suddenly feeling a little bit regretful. “I’ve been to Italy, Japan, France numerous times, had the most amazing experiences but there are so many other places waiting to be discovered and I just play it safe. I want to go somewhere and try… I don’t know, all the weird stuff that sounds unappetizing but is actually the local specialty. I’m a bit tired of the classic dishes that end up on our menus and comfort food.”

“What’s your favorite comfort food?” Seokjin asks you, as he finally wraps up his work and joins you, sitting across the island and reaching for his own glass of wine as you try to think of an answer. Comfort food by taste or comfort food by memory? 

“I have to go with potatoes.” 

He chokes on his drink, making you laugh at his reaction. Once again, you are met with a look of disbelief. “Are you kidding me? Potatoes? Out of all the food in the world?”

“You said comfort food, not favorite food,” you remind him with a grin. “And yeah, it’s potatoes. They’re so simple and versatile and you can do whatever the hell you want with them. When I was a kid, my mom used to make me and my brother these stuffed, roasted potatoes. I don’t even know the ingredients honestly, I’ve never tried making them myself like that. To get that original comfort food taste, it has to be made by my mom. No one else.” 

“I’m a professional chef and I still fully acknowledge that I’m nowhere near as good as my mom is,” Seokjin’s admission makes you laugh but you understand it fully. “She used to make the most amazing mac and cheese. Unlike you, I did try to recreate it - I followed her recipe to a T and still ended up with a sad imitation. Nothing ever beats the food you grew up eating.”

“Are you close to your family?” you ask and regret it immediately, wondering if that is too much, if you’re asking questions you have no business knowing answers to. You’ve known Seokjin for years but you could hardly call him a friend when you know so little about him. 

“Yeah, I’d say so,” he nods, not even hesitating to share information about his personal life. “I visit them often and I try to go fishing with my brother as much as I can. What about you?” 

“As close as we can be,” you shrug, reaching for your wine. “You know what our working hours are like and as much as I want to drive and see them on the weekends, I often just can’t. And my brother lives abroad with his wife and kids, so we rarely see each other. We facetime often, though. His kids are already starting school next year.” 

“I have a niece,” Seokjin smiles with that cute, content smile that now feels familiar. You wait as he pulls out his phone, turning it to proudly show off the photo he selected - it’s him with a child in his arms, a little girl with the cutest face, big smile and tiny little pigtails. She can’t be more than three years old and she looks so happy to be held by her uncle. 

“Oh, she is so cute! She adores you, doesn’t she?” the words leave your mouth before you can stop them. 

“I think she loves me more than her parents,” he admits, breaking into a fit of laughter. “She doesn’t let go of me, which I don’t mind, I adore the kid, but she just fuels my mother’s need for more grandchildren and when she clings to me… well…” 

“Oh, I know,” you wave your hand. “Mine have two grandchildren and not a single reunion passes without them wondering when I’m going to reproduce.” They mean well, you know that and you don’t hold it against them. There are just times when they make you feel like you’re not doing a good enough job with the life they’ve given you, just because you haven’t had kids yet. Yes, they mean well but that’s not something you often want to hear.  

“Do you want kids?” he asks. It should feel weird, it really should, talking about these things with him. It’s personal, too personal even, but you feel so at ease around him tonight, you can’t be bothered to care. It doesn’t feel wrong, not in the slightest. 

“One day, yeah,” you shrug, seeing as this wasn’t something you thought about often. When you’re single and haven’t had a serious relationship in years, kids are on the back burner. “What about you? I don’t know why, but I never pegged you for a parental type.”

“You don’t know me very well then,” he laughs and the way he does it is so… cheeky and teasing. If anyone else was sitting here with you right now, you would swear on your life that they were flirting. Without a doubt, the teasing smile and raised eyebrow would make your mind go in that direction. Seeing as this is Seokjin, you can’t be too sure. It goes against everything he has ever said and done. But like a curse, Jungkook’s words come back to haunt you again. Would it be so weird to think that he likes you? He is here, after all. 

“You’re right,” you nod as you put down your glass. “I don’t know you very well, do I?” he seems surprised at your question, even going so far as to look uncomfortable. Only for a second, before he offers you a smile. 

“What would you like to know?” 

“Why are you here?” you ask. It wasn’t what you were planning on asking, not by a long shot. You wanted to ask stupid questions, to find out what his favorite movies are, what’s his most embarrassing memory - the things you know about your friends. A game of 20 questions was what you had in mind when pointing out that you don’t really know a lot about him but when the opportunity presented itself, your self control had other plans. And seriously - why is he here? 

Seokjin blinks a couple of times, seemingly needing time to process your question and think of a decent answer. “I wanted to do something nice,” he shrugs, giving you the same excuse that he had given earlier. You didn’t doubt it much then but now you’ve started wondering. “We’ve decided to start over and I… wanted to extend an olive branch.”

It makes perfect sense and you don’t believe a single word of it. “Why are you really here?” you push, following your instinct. Said instinct might be affected by the feelings but it’s there. And if there is one thing you’ve learned in life, it’s to follow your gut feeling - always. 

Seokjin chuckles nervously and lo and behold, his ears give him away. “Do you think there’s an ulterior motive here?” he asks, shaking his head. He’s a decent actor, but not nearly as good as he thinks he is. He’s way too defensive for someone with no ulterior motives. “I didn’t poison the beef bourguignon, if that’s what you’re aiming at,” he adds, pointing back at the stove, where your dinner has been slowly simmering for about an hour now. 

“No, I don’t think you’re trying to poison me,” you chuckle, shaking your head, wondering if you should just stop talking and drop the whole thing entirely. “I thought that… You know what? Never mind,” you decide, knowing that some questions are perhaps better left unanswered. “Tell me, what’s your favorite TV show? Are you a binger or a once a week type of guy?” 

“Y/N, you don’t get to change topics on me like that,” Seokjin looks serious now, refusing to break eye contact. You struggle to not look away, knowing that you have pushed it too far and now you’re unable to backtrack. He won’t let you. “What did you think?” he asks. 

What’s the worst thing that could happen if you answer truthfully? He could laugh at you and that’s pretty much it. And if he does start laughing, you can play it off and join in on the joke. And if he pulls the ultimate dick move and tells your mutual friends about it, you can always deny. 

“The things that happened over the weekend had made me wonder,” you tell him, deciding to leave out the part when Jungkook opened your eyes to this possibility. “Some of the things that you’ve said kind of got my wheels spinning, you know?” you ask. As he swallows a lump, still not looking away from you, you decide to rip off the bandaid and throw your theory out. “Call me crazy and feel free to laugh and tell me I’m a fool but… Seokjin… do you like me?” 

Zero emotions are shown on his face. It’s the most perfect poker face that you have ever seen - exposed forehead, full lips and all. Self confidence was never a strong suit of yours, except in the kitchen of course, but you know better than to try and backtrack now. Seconds ago, it was still salvageable. Now, you’ve said it and it’s out in the open. You were either right or wrong. 

You wait, not backing away from the nth stare down of the night. You wait, letting him have his time to prepare an answer, whether it’s the truth or a lie. If your suspicions weren’t correct, wouldn’t he have already said something? 

“What gave me away?” 

And there it is. Jungkook was right and you were blind. How are you supposed to feel now? Relieved? Worried? Panicked? Amused? None of those make sense, nor do they describe the way you are feeling now. With Seokjin looking at you as if he has finally given up, finally surrendered, the only emotion that you can single out with clarity is curiosity. 

“Wow. I mean, I wasn’t sure, I half expected you to laugh mockingly or something,” you admit, finally looking away and shaking your head, as if that’s supposed to get your thoughts in order. “The other night, when you said that you just did it to make me laugh… I thought, maybe…” 

Lies. Jungkook figured it out, and even then, you refused to believe. Even now, you’re still expecting Seokjin to start laughing, claiming that he had pulled off the ultimate prank. He doesn’t - in fact, he looks more serious than you’ve ever seen him. 

“Makes sense,” he lets out a dark chuckle. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. Or pissed at myself. I’ve said too much, I’ve set myself up,” the way he runs a hand through his hair, with that solemn look on his face makes him look… hot. Like, really hot. “But at least it’s out in the open, right? Now you know.” 

“Wait,” you raise a hand. “I have no idea what you’re trying to say. Like… since when? How? Why? I… I don’t get it.” 

“Since when?” he laughs. Now you’re borderline worried, the guy looks like he’s going to experience a mental breakdown any second now. “Pretty much for as long as we’ve known each other. I know, shocking,” he adds, seeing how your eyes had widened when you heard his answer. “To think how I thought that I was obvious.” 

“Oh no, you weren’t,” you sit up straighter, your voice raised up a notch. “You were anything but, Seokjin. I thought you despised me! That I was your arch nemesis or some shit like that.” 

“Well, maybe I wasn’t obvious to you but I was to others, I’m damn sure all of Catnip knows by now,” he tells you and he looks as if he is calming himself down. His voice is lower and he’s no longer making eye contact, but staring at the island between you. “What I said was true, I did do it to make you laugh and somewhere along the way, I’ve pissed you off, so much so that you went on thinking that I hated you. Which I don’t, by the way. Never have.” 

“You… you are a horrible flirt, you know that, right?” is all you can say now, still trying to wrap your head around the fact that the man had a crush on you for years. This time when he laughs, it’s not the dark tone that his laughter had just moments ago. This time around, his laughter is very much genuine, but it also dies down fast. 

“I’m very much aware of that,” he confirms, finally looking your way again. There’s not a trace of positive emotion on his face. It’s as if he has completely given up on this conversation ending with a positive outcome. You can’t blame them for that - given the questioning that you’re putting him through and your history together - if you were in his shoes, you’d also see this as an uncomfortable rejection conversation. 

Is it, though? It would be, if it weren’t for the feelings. They’re there. You have no fucking clue what they are, much less what they mean but they are there and you can’t ignore their existence any longer. They remind you that once upon a time, he really did make you laugh. That this whole dumb rivalry made you want to work harder and be better, even if it was for the petty reason of simply being better than him. The feelings remind you that you did always consider him attractive, that that stupid smile that he has when he’s truly happy and content does things to you. The feelings remind you that you can recognize the tell-tale signs of his embarrassment. You might not know him well, every line and crevice, every positive and negative but you still know more than you had originally thought. And you want to know more. 

“Why?” you ask, knowing you won’t have a peace of mind until you know, even if asking such questions might make him feel uncomfortable. “Why me? I just… I don’t get it.” 

“Neither do I,” he answers immediately, shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t have a big reason behind it or a particular moment when I realized. Liking you was instant. Of course, it didn’t develop into something… deeper straight away. That part lasted years, but it was impossible not to like you, Y/N. We’re chefs. We make food, that’s our job - our job is to take food and cook it, presented in a visually appealing manner and charge for it more than we should. And you take such a simple, almost meaningless thing and turn it into an art form.” 

Although touching and meaningful, his words confuse the life out of you. “You like me because I’m a good chef?” you ask, wondering if you’ve missed something. 

“I like you because of the dedication you give to it,” he elaborates. “That stupid excercise that we did the other day didn’t let me do you justice. The look on your face that you’ve had on that first day remains the same now, whenever I see you taking the simplest ingredients and turning them into art. I have admired that and it’s one of the reasons why my eyes would look for you every damn time we were in that test kitchen. You were there and so focused, so beautiful and so damn good at what you did. And smart, funny, a good leader and a good friend. It also didn’t hurt that you look damn hot when you’re focused on something.” 

The last part he adds, almost like an afterthought and it makes you laugh. He laughs too, when you make eye contact. The feelings have gone haywire. You officially have no control of them because the things that he has said about you, you recognized in him as well, at one point or another. He is so good at what he does, dedicated and driven, while also being a good leader and from what you’ve seen, an awesome friend. To others he was funny - to you, he was a pain in the ass that just so happened to look damn hot when he was focused on something. 

“I don’t know what to say,” you admit when you start feeling as if the silence is lasting too long. 

“You don’t have to say anything,” he waves his hand, dismissing your suggestion and once again, confusing the hell out of you. “It’s out in the open and now you know why I was an idiot for all those years. I meant what I said when I told you that I wanted us to start fresh and be friendly with one another. I’m a big boy, I know that what’s not meant to be is not meant to be.” 

“No, you’re not,” you shake your head, amused at the confusion etched on his face. “You are childish and often petty and honestly, at times you are the most insufferable being on this planet and I can’t even begin to describe how confusing it is that I find that endearing.” 

As you listed all the things he is, you watched as his face fell, but you didn’t have a chance to feel bad about it, not when you know that despite all of that, he’s still a good guy. He’s still Seokjin, with all his quirks and insufferable moments. And as much as you might want to deny it, you like him. You really do like him. 

“Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t always endearing - in fact, more often than not, you were a real pain in the ass. You’re not a big boy who can handle rejection well and I don’t want to see you handle it. I don’t want to watch you struggle to get over this crush of yours for weeks, months even. I also don’t want to watch you finding it easy to get over it, completely forgetting all about it in a matter of days,” you tell him and you’re not even sure if the words make sense but they go out of your mouth and into his ears, making his eyes go wide. 

“Y/N, what are you trying to say?” 

“I have no fucking clue,” you shrug, getting up from your chair. “I didn’t have enough time to process any of this. Just minutes ago, I thought there’s no way in hell that you’re that dumb to pull a third grader flirting technique,” you keep talking as you walk over to him, watching him as he turns to face you, slightly alarmed by your sudden proximity, even if there’s a good two feet between you. “I’m not fully aware of what I’m saying, or feeling for that matter, but I do know that I am feeling something. Don’t ask me to define it, cause I can’t, not in this mindfuck of a plot twist that my life did not prepare me for. I just know that I want to test something out.” 

“Test? Test out what?” he asks as you take the final step to close the gap between you. 

“This,” is all you tell him as you grab a hold of his cute blue sweater and pull him closer, not wasting a single second before you press your lips to his. Neither of you moves for a moment or two, he out of shock and you out of pure confusion because why the hell are you kissing Kim Seokjin?! A few seconds pass and it’s he who starts moving, bringing life into your dead kiss. And the moment he does, you feel it in the pit of your stomach that there is nothing, absolutely nothing wrong about this. When he puts his hands on your sides, you let yours move from where they were clutching onto his sweater up and around his neck, pulling him down, closer to you. The strands of hair that reach the nape of his neck feel like silk under your fingers and when you feel his tongue graze your bottom lip, you softly gasp. 

That makes him pull away - that little gasp of yours seems like a wake-up call for him because he is pulling away, his eyes wide, making him look as if he thinks he is imagining all of this. He looks shocked but he is not letting go of you and your hands are still locked behind his neck. 

“Kissing you is good,” you conclude. “I want to keep doing that.” 

“Zero complaints here,” is all he says before he stands up and kisses you again. Without breaking the kiss, he twists your hips to the side, making you lean back on the island, the edge of the surface pressing into your back as he essentially cages you. 

It’s funny, how many things about him you never really realized. For example, how tall he actually is and how much he has to bend down in order to kiss you, which he does, diligently. You also have never noticed how clear his skin is, not until your fingers grazed his cheeks softly. He was in front of you, right in front of you, all these years and until tonight, he was nothing more than an annoying guy with a good face. How wrong you were… 

“Of course, you’re a good kisser too,” he sighs as he breaks the kiss, leaning his forehead on yours, his eyes still closed. “Are you an overachiever in every aspect of your life?” 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” you tease, chuckling when he backs away, startled. 

“That’s not… I wasn’t trying to insinuate something,” he defends himself immediately. 

“But I am,” you giggle at the way his eyes widen. You can’t blame him - this night has made you go from zero to sixty in no time. That realization does make you nervous but you’ve already decided to push it back and just do whatever it is that you want to do. “I’m telling you, I don’t want to think or define. We can deal with that later. Now, I just want… you.” 

Seokjin takes a second, gulping, looking at you as if he is waiting for you to laugh in his face or take the offer back. When he stays silent for what you deem as a bit too long, you smile softly at him and drag your thumb across his bottom lip - it’s so soft and inviting, already red from the kisses that you’ve shared. You want him and he needs to stop second guessing that. 

Whatever it is that he was looking for on your face, he seems to have found it because he’s suddenly kissing you again, with a lot more ferocity than he did just moments ago. That was a kiss, a first kiss, a getting-to-know-what-this-feels-like kiss - this is a kiss. Hands digging into your skin, tongue driving you crazy with gasps and heavy breathing kind of kiss. 

You are the one who pulls away but you stay silent, taking his hand into yours and leading him towards the door. A silent moment is exchanged when he looks at the stove, where your dinner is still cooking, then back to you. Beef bourguignon takes hours to make and given the years of expertise between the two of you, you’re comfortable with leaving the stove on. So you laugh and he does too, before you pull him into the hallway. 

Along the way, you kiss, hit a few walls and your sweatshirt is left discarded on the floor - you don’t have time for another freakout at how ridiculously unprepared you are for this because the way he looks at you kills the little insecurities that haunt you. His eyes scan over any area of skin that they can see while his fingers slide over the very edge of your bra, tickling the skin they graze. Goosebumps cover your skin and you all but slam him into your bedroom door. 

“Woah,” he laughs. “Never thought you were this impatient.” 

“I’m usually not,” you admit with a shrug. 

“I’m not complaining,” he laughs as the two of you waddle towards the bed, still pressed to one another. You smile as you push him gently onto the bed. He looks up at you, mouth open and eyebrows raised. “Oh, I am not complaining at all!” 

Smiling, you straddle his lap and pause for a second, taking a moment to get used to what’s happening. Unlike you, he is patient - he simply looks at you, a strange mix of awe and giddiness written on his face. His hands are glued to your hips and he runs his thumbs in circles, gently. It looks as if he’s relishing the moment and letting you take the lead in what’ll happen next. “This is really happening, isn’t it?” you ask, your chest filling with pride when he shows you that signature smile of his, the one that causes a ruckus among the butterflies in your stomach. 

“I think it is,” he leans closer to you, connecting his lips to your neck and that one, simple action is enough to make you realize that if he’s down, you’ll be more than happy to take it all the way tonight. Neck kisses are a universal weakness and you’re gladly going to let him use it to his advantage. “If this ends up being a wet dream of mine, I’m going to be so pissed when I wake up,” he admits before nipping at your skin, an action that elicits a whole new wave of horniness to take over you. Neck kisses are bad enough - neck bites will be your downfall. 

“If it is a wet dream, come and find me when you wake up and tell me what you’ve told me tonight. Then we’ll see what we can do about it,” you joke, laughing even harder when he grabs a hold of you and moves you down on the bed. This is the first sign of initiative that he has shown so far and you are not complaining. It’s your turn now to gulp as he hovers above you, looking down at your body like he is seconds away from eating you alive. 

“I thought you were hot before but I never thought you were hiding all of this under your clothes,” he tells you as he pulls down on the straps of your bra - at least your underwear is a matching black set, if the rest of you is a mess. Lifting your back from the bed, you help him take the fabric off and he grins up at you once your boobs are out in the open. “Chef’s uniforms really didn’t do your boobs justice.” 

“You’ve seen me in casual clothes plenty of times,” you laugh at his antics. He’s known you for years, there’s no way he didn’t catch a good view of your cleavage in all that time. 

“Not nearly as often as I should have,” he mumbles and before you have a chance to talk back, he leaves you speechless as he attaches his mouth to you, immediately giving your nipple a gentle bite. Eyes rolling into the back of your head, you do your best to stay silent - there’s no way in hell Seokjin won’t be cocky about this later and you don’t want to give him too much material to work with right off the bat. 

It doesn’t take long for you to realize that one of the hottest things about being with Seokjin like this is simply seeing Seokjin like this. There is just something so inherently hot about the way his eyes close as rolls his tongue across your nipple. He makes the sight even hotter than the action itself, especially when he reaches for your other breast, gently playing with it as he pleases. Simple actions like that are already driving you nuts and you can only worry about what’s to come later. And it gets worse - turned on by the sight, you reach for him, moving the hair away from his eyes and the second you two make eye contact, a moan leaves you - a loud, shameless one at that. You could swear his eyes twinkled then and there. 

“Please tell me you have a condom,” he starts kissing down your body. 

“If you’re clean, you don’t need it. I’m clean and on the pill.” 

He suddenly stops kissing you, choosing to laugh instead. “You’re telling me that a week ago you could barely stand being in the same room with me and now you’re letting me sleep with you without a condom?” 

“I mean...” you shrug, joining in on his laughter. “I’m sure stranger things have happened.” 

“Not to me they haven’t,” he jokes, before immediately turning serious. “Are you sure you want this? I really don’t want you to regret it,” he admits. 

“The only thing I’m going to regret is letting you take the lead because you’re taking too long and you’re still in your clothes.” 

“Easy,” he laughs as he hooks his fingers past the waistband of your sweatpants and slowly starts pulling them down, leaving your underwear in place. “Eat what makes you happy, they say,” he says and you roll your eyes. Of course, leave it to Seokjin to think pussy. 

“They also say don’t play with your food,” you playfully remind him as you kick off the pants. He doesn’t laugh - instead, he reaches for your leg and softly caresses it. 

“Is your leg going to be okay?” he asks and if you weren’t whipped beyond belief before, you are now. Even you have managed to completely forget about your injury but he hasn't. Even now, Seokjin finds ways to prove you wrong and show how thoughtful he actually is. 

You simply nod and that’s confirmation enough for him. His hand trails up and on the inside of your thigh pausing before touching your wet underwear. He gives you a questioning look, not touching you until you confirm that that’s what you want. You nod quickly and in a matter of seconds, the last of your clothes is on the floor, and Seokjin is diving right in. 

Despite complaining that he’s taking too long, you realize that he’s not the one to tease - at least not tonight. His mouth connects with your clit almost immediately and it’s enough to make you moan again. He licks, sucks and grazes his teeth against it, letting you hold onto his hair like your life depends on it. He’s good, which makes perfect sense because leave it to Kim Seokjin to give you the best oral sex of your entire life. You won’t tell him - not now, perhaps not ever, cause he doesn’t need that to get into his head too, but good lord is he good. 

“Can I?” he asks, tracing his finger across your opening. 

“Seokjin, at this point you can do whatever the fuck you want,” you laugh, a laugh that turns into a moan when he sinks his finger in, curving it up immediately and making you arch your back. 

“Is this good?” he asks and the feelings go berserk again. In your mind, it can’t get any better than a man that actually pays attention to what his lover enjoys. 

“More than,” you moan as he adds another finger and effectively ends your conversation. He is driving you crazy - something that you’ve noticed before, when you side eyed his chopping skills years ago, is how he has beautiful hands with long, almost elegant fingers. Never did you think that those fingers would be inside you, making you count your blessings and struggle to not moan out his name. A struggle that you have lost when he puts a third finger to use. 

You want more - as amazing as it is, you want more. You want to kiss him, to feel him inside you, to make him feel as good as he is making you feel now. As much as you didn’t want to stop him, as much as you’d gladly spend hours like this, you wanted and needed more. 

“Seokjin, stop,” he does so immediately, looking up at you in worry. His face is covered in your wetness and the sight makes you want to cry. He has never looked hotter than he does right now, between your legs, the evidence of your pleasure all over his face and his hair a mess because of you. “I want you. Wanna kiss you.” 

“But you taste heavenly,” he pouts, turning his head to leave kisses on your thigh. 

“I’ll taste heavenly a bit later too,” you push, knowing that no matter how good this feels, it can get better for the both of you. “Come on, I want to see you.” 

Grinning, he gives your thigh a quick bite - the man has a biting kink, there’s no denying it. While that’s something you’ve never given much thought before, you are now finding it very enjoyable. What’s even more enjoyable is the sight of Seokjin taking his sweater off. You’ve known he’s handsome, you’re not blind, but never in a million years would you think that he’s so well defined. He’s not buff, far from it. He is just so perfectly defined, every muscle on his stomach noticeable and if you’re being completely honest with yourself, lickable. 

He undresses quickly as you ogle at him, your breath hitching the moment he drops his pants. 

“Well, that explains a lot,” you comment as you eye his dick - hard, girthy and surprisingly big. 

“What?” Seokjin is confused and you giggle at the way he hides his dick with his hands. “You think I’m compensating for something?” 

“Quite the opposite,” you answer honestly. “I imagine it’s easy being so full of yourself with a dick like that.” 

“Is that an insult or a compliment?” he laughs. 

“Both,” you would have been more cheeky if he hadn’t started stroking himself, the sight driving you absolutely crazy. “Please. I want to feel you.”

You don’t have to say it again - he moves to loom over you and finally, after what feels like hours and not mere minutes, you can kiss him again. The taste of you on his tongue doesn’t bother you. It’s the opposite, actually, making this moment and Seokjin himself even hotter to you. He lets you push him down onto the bed and without breaking the kiss, you station yourself above him. For the first time tonight, his hands grab a hold of your ass and he squeezes - hard. 

Both of you stay silent as you move, putting your arm between the two of you to grab a hold of his dick as you kiss. He lets out a groan the moment you wrap your hands around it. Movements gentle and slow, teasing even, knowing that this is the only chance you get to focus on his pleasure. You’d gladly take him into your mouth but you’re much too impatient for that tonight. A brief hand job will have to do, and judging by his reactions, it’s more than enough. 

You are surprised at how vocal Seokjin actually is in bed, not that you’ve given it much thought before. He’s not holding back, his moans low and deep, not embarrassed in the slightest to show you how good you’re making him feel. After one particular, higher pitched moan, you decide to do the same. You were holding back before, stupidly worried about your own dignity and giving him material to tease you endlessly. You won’t anymore. 

Biting your bottom lip and pulling it as he breaks the kiss, he leans back, looking at you with lust in his eyes, his cheeks the exact same shade as the tips of his ears. You want to take a photograph, to memorize the sight of him being turned. It feels like a privilege that only you have and you want to commit it to memory. “Y/N, please,” is all he says. 

Slowly, you line him up to your entrance and with your bottom lip between your teeth, you sink down on him. Immediately, the both of you groan at the feeling. Him being inside you feels right in all the wrong ways, a feeling so right that you know you’re going to miss it when it’s gone. 

He is the one who moves first, lifting his hips to get you to move. Smiling down at him, you grab a hold of his shoulders and slowly move your hips, letting him almost slip out of you before swallowing him whole again. Each roll of your hips faster than the previous one, not even a minute passes before Seokjin moves his hands away from your ass and pulls you directly on top of him, chest to chest, lips stuck in a slow kiss as he slams up into you. 

“Fuck, you feel so good Y/N,” he tells you and follows it with a particular hard thrust that makes you grip his shoulders harder, holding on for dear life. Having never been with him before, you couldn’t tell if he was close or not. You weren’t, yet strangely, that doesn’t bother you whatsoever. That can be dealt with easily - now, all you want to do is enjoy the feeling of him slamming into you, hard and fast, and the sight of him barely keeping it together. 

“Happy to hear that,” you giggle before said giggle is rudely interrupted with another harsher snap of his hips. “Fine, fine, you’re not so bad yourself,” you tease and the look he gives you is enough for you to know that you’ll regret saying that. Immediately. 

Without any warning, he flips you around and slams you down on the bed, his dick never leaving you. Before you can even react in any way, your healthy leg is pushed up towards your chest and Seokjin slams into you with a purpose. “You talk about how I annoyed the life out of you, pretending like you’ve never bickered back with that mouth of yours,” his words are menacing and incredibly sexy, but the way he is eating you up with his eyes kills any doubt that his words are actually resentful. “I’m glad I’ve found a way to shut you up,” he announces and as if you weren’t losing your mind already, he sneaks a finger between your legs and pinches your clit, eliciting the loudest moan of the night. “Or maybe not.”

“Seokjin!” 

“Fuck, you sound so hot screaming my name,” his pace speeds up, knowing that your orgasm is right around the corner - his thrusts become more shallow but his fingers rub your clit in the speed of light. “Come on Y/N, come for me.” 

As much as you wish that your body complied and let you come on his command, it didn’t happen that way. It took a few thrusts more, a few more harsher movements of his fingers, but by the time your orgasm has washed over you, you were gasping loudly, digging your nails into the skin of his back. Your brain was mush and you could barely recognize the words he’s saying, something about how you’re squeezing him so good. He doesn’t stop moving, helping you ride out your orgasm to the point of overstimulation. Coming out of your post-orgasm haze, you fight the overstimulation and focus on him, noticing how his thrusts are getting more erratic. He looks so out of it, hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, his shoulders red with how strong you are gripping him. Slowly, you slide your hands up and around his neck, pulling him down to you, ignoring the painful stretch in your leg. 

“You can finish inside me,” you tell him, hushing his loud moan with a kiss. It’s a hectic kiss, your lips barely moving because he’s gasping into your mouth and you’re moaning at the feeling of his dick twitching inside you. “Seokjin, please come for me.” 

Was it you begging for him to come or a creampie kink, you have no idea and you don’t particularly care because the moment he comes and starts filling you up, you’re on cloud nine. It feels as good as an actual orgasm, to know that you, your body, the way you made him feel was enough to make him explode, very literally. You were the one helping him now, lifting up your hips as he stood still, his face buried in your neck, his groans filling your ear. His dick is still twitching but his body has completely given up - he drops your leg and practically falls on top of you, having enough strength and sanity to soften the blow with his hands. 

His hands give up slowly and in a matter of seconds every inch of him is pressed up against you. You don’t care, too busy relishing the feeling of his breaths on your neck and his cum slowly dripping out of you and around his dick. God, you wish you could see it but the position won’t let you. Instead of pushing him away to get a better view, you close your eyes and let your body calm down together with his. 

His weight on top of you should feel suffocating but it’s not. It feels comforting and right, which scares you to an extent but not enough to chicken out and push him away, especially not when he starts kissing any parts of you he can reach, focusing on your shoulder. After a few moments he rolls over but stays close, his hand draped over your side. You look at each other and it’s impossible not to smile because he is beaming. You can’t remember if you’ve ever seen him this happy. You must have - it’s just that you probably weren’t paying attention. 

“So… that happened,” he speaks up first. 

“Yup. Talk about a plot twist, huh?” you joke, shaking your head as you realize how weird this is on paper. “Culinary school Y/N never thought a day would come when she’d have sex with Seokjin.” 

“Yesterday’s Seokjin never thought a day would come when he’d have sex with Y/N,” he laughs, shuffling closer to you. By the looks of it, he is a cuddler and you have zero complaints about it. You let him hold you, snuggling against his chest, enjoying the moment a lot more than you ever thought you could. “Let me take you out, Y/N,” he tells you. He seems earnest and a lot more hopeful than he was back in the kitchen. “You found it in you to put the tension behind and give us a shot at being friends. Why not give this a shot, too? I like you a lot and I’ve liked you for a while… maybe you could find something to like in little old me?” he shrugs. 

“It’s already too late for that,” you laugh, lowering your head to leave a few kisses on his chest. “I’m still not ready to define it and put it to words but I’d be happy to go out with you,” you admit. 

“It might not take us anywhere,” he shrugs, making your head bounce with the movement. “For all we know, you might realize you do hate my guts after all. But maybe we end up getting along better than anyone would expect?” 

“Seokjin… with your cooking skills and your oral skills, we’re already getting along very well, if you ask me,” you joke but after a few seconds of laughter, he sits up and pushes you away. 

“The beef bourguignon!” he gasps. The sight of Seokjin running out of your bedroom, naked, to check on the food brings tears to your eyes. You can even hear him berating you, yelling something about how this is not a laughing matter but that only makes it more comical. Isn’t it ironic how now, he can make you laugh without even trying? 

The beef bourguignon didn’t burn. It was the best beef bourguignon that you’ve ever had. The entire evening was one of the best in your recent memory. Whether it was the dinner, his sweater that you were wearing while you ate, the wine, the shared shower or waking up the next morning in his embrace, the time you’ve spent with Seokjin was enjoyable, perhaps even meaningful and definitely worth repeating. 

As long as you are both willing to give it a go, it’s worth it. And it has to be kept between the two of you, at least for now. Cause as much as you like Seokjin, his cooking skills and his dick, your group of friends will never, ever, let you live this one down. Although, for all of the above… it might just be worth it. 

THE END 

[malucy31]

Time is On Our Side

Alec is stuck on a mission in India in the 18th century and he misses Magnus. One day, he wakes up somewhere that feels and smells like home.

Chapter 1/3 - Moon troubles

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In a state of semi-consciousness, Alec senses Magnus hovering somewhere over him, his soothing words, soothing voice, familiar presence. When he manages to blink his eyes open, it’s only for a second.

The light is too harsh.

“Magnus…” his voice trails off on its own. He missed him so much.

“Hello, there. You slept all morning, I was starting to fear you wouldn’t wake up at all.”

“The mission, it – ”

“Shh, you’ve been injured, try not to talk.”

“Thought it’d never end…”

“It’s over now. You’re safe here.”

Alec smiles at these words, letting his muscles relax into Magnus’s magic. If he opened his eyes, he knows he would see his lovely husband weaving blue tendrils of magic like strings of air and atoms. But his eyelids are too heavy, and everything is so peaceful.

Two weeks.

Those missions are always supposed to last two weeks, but they never do. Faint recollections of a missed new moon and a missed opportunity to go home cross his mind.

How long has it been? A month? A month and a half?

Alec can’t focus. He has missed Magnus so much, has craved being in his arms, hearing his voice. It has just been too long.

Above him, Magnus says things, but Alec’s brain only registers a few words of reassurance, maybe replies to his unconscious ramblings. He doesn’t even know what he is saying.

Disappointment settles when the soft buzzing of Magnus’s magic leaves his skin. He realizes he must be pouting because the musical laughter he loves so much answers him.

“Try to rest. I’ll be in the next room if you need me, okay?”

Alec pictures himself nodding but has no idea if his head follows. After that, everything fades.

Magnus’s magic must have been what kept him awake because when he regains consciousness, it’s to an evening light filtering through half-closed shutters.

The feelings he had earlier are still floating at the edge of his memory. Magnus’s magic is there too, purring underneath his skin like it has found a home there. As always, Alec opens himself up to the feelings, letting it drizzle, letting it settle in every numb place.

Peacefulness only lasts a few seconds though. The sheets under his palms are rougher than usual. It’s not the silk he was expecting to find. These remind him more of the ones he had at the Institute. More than a bit confused, he sits up, trying not to pay too much attention to his still painful right arm.

Something as simple as it is terrifying grows in his stomach as he takes in his surroundings.

He is neither in their bedroom, nor at the Institute.

In fact, Alec has no idea where he is. It feels like home, but it isn’t. Between the echoes of a familiar magic lovingly coiling up around his bones and the scent of sandalwood coming from the other side of the door, Alec could swear he is at their loft, just like he could swear that Magnus is brewing a batch of his sandalwood shampoo.

Did Magnus add a room to the loft while he was away?

It shouldn’t be this difficult to remember, but everything is blank. It’s only when he sits at the edge of the bed and sees his reflection in the mirror that his brain finally catches up with the situation.

This isn’t his face, he is glamoured as a Mundane.

And he isn’t home because the mission isn’t over yet.

He is still in India in the 18th century…

Great.

Alec heaves a long sigh and falls back on the mattress, wincing as the room spins around him. He was so sure he was home, so sure that this whole nightmare was finally over. But no. The demon they had to kill was harder to find, making them miss the new moon, miss the ritual and forcing them to wait another month in a place and time they were never supposed to be.

So no, he isn’t home. Far from it.

His memories are coming back, but what drove him here is still a mystery. What happened?

It was Magnus with him earlier, and it’s him in the next room. That’s a certainty.

Everything starts spinning again, and Alec has to close his eyes.

What did he tell him? Not too much hopefully, nothing that can’t be put under the account of being injured and groggy, right? How long was he unconscious? Did he miss the new moon again? The thought makes him sit back up, swallowing a moan because his right arm is really hurting.

He can’t wait another month here.

He can’t.

He needs to go home, he needs Magnus, his Magnus. He is sick of falling asleep in beds that are too small, too cold, and too hard. Sick of waking up and having quick breakfasts amongst the other Shadowhunters like he used to do when everything inside of him felt wrong. He wants his life back. Now.

Jace would tell him to stop overreacting, but he doesn’t know what a life with Magnus is. He doesn’t know that nothing compares to this life they are building year after year. Jace doesn’t know, he can’t.

Tears start prickling at the corner of his eyes. Alec is just so tired… It almost makes him regret this blissed state of half-consciousness from earlier where everything felt like a dream.

In the next room, he hears Magnus make a contented noise, humming in approval and commenting to himself like he often does when he tries something new in his apothecary or in the kitchen. Without realizing it, Alec stands up, feeling much lighter. Quiet and calm are replacing the spiraling storm inside his head. There’s nothing like Magnus being happy to make him forget about everything wrong in the world.

It pains him to think he should escape through the window. He has no idea how he ended up here, at Magnus’s or what he told him. It would be safer to escape.

But on the other hand, isn’t that exactly why Magnus didn’t travel with him? Or why he made sure to add a protection spell to Alec’s glamor? They all knew this could happen. This Magnus won’t be able to detect his glamor, his Magnus won’t arrive to save him… There really isn’t any danger, is there?

Before he can make a decision, Alec is at the door, already hearing his siblings’ snigger at their lovesick brother. He just… A month and a half is too long. He misses him too much.

It’s impossible to hold back his smile and sudden yearning when he opens the door. It’s the apothecary. The exact replica of the one Alec knows so well by now. He doesn’t have time to observe the details because Magnus is already meeting his stare.

“There’s our mysterious and reckless traveler! How do you feel?”

“Better, thanks.”

“Is it still hurting?” Magnus asks, pointing to Alec’s right arm as he absently rubs it.

The scent of sandalwood and home is so overwhelming that Alec is barely aware of his own answer, or of the fact that Magnus is approaching.

With an elegant movement, he lets a little of his magic rain over Alec’s arm. As it usually does, it curls up around him with a tenderness that leaves him speechless. It makes this Magnus’s face soften, just like it does with his Magnus.

I missed this. I missed you, he wants to say and has to bite his tongue to refrain.

Euphoria fades abruptly when he realizes that this is the second time Magnus has used his magic on him without trying to hide it. Magnus, who isn’t supposed to know him or know that he is part of the Shadow World.

If he is acting like this, it means Alec did or said something he shouldn’t have.

What did he do? How much did he reveal while he was unconscious? Did he doom them forever? Will he come back to an empty loft? To a life where he doesn’t know Magnus at all?

Maybe he should have escaped through the window after all. He is getting nauseous. His mind sinks into bottomless spirals and the room spins again. It’s too late to play dumb, to withdraw his arm and look scandalized, asking things like What kind of witchcraft is this? It’s not like Alec has ever learned how to lie properly anyway.

Magnus must feel his sudden distress because he gently leads him back to a chair, “There, everything’s alright. Better?”

Alec can’t even nod.

As for Magnus, he is smirking, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Don’t worry, mysterious traveler, I don’t know a thing about you.”

Apparently, glamor or not, Magnus can still read him like an open book. Alec doesn’t know if it should make him scared or make him fall in love a little more. Maybe both. Definitively the latter.

“Good,” Alec can’t help replying and regretting it immediately because the amusement on Magnus’s features fades away. He knows his husband enough to know that this mysterious traveler must intrigue him. While healing him, he probably felt a lingering taste of magic, of his own magic without really understanding it.

“Come with me,” he eventually says. “You should eat something.”

*

Magnus’s kitchen makes Alec smile too.

Once, Magnus told him he used several decades of his life to perfect his cooking skills, even owned a restaurant. Something fancy and prestigious that still exists, where he took Alec for their tenth anniversary.

Seeing what can only be called a mess in the kitchen, Alec wonders if this is when Magnus started experimenting.

Usually, Alec gets nervous around mess, but never around Magnus’s. There is always a certain beauty about it, something that reflects his mere soul. Herbs are hanging from the ceiling, drying, diffusing the light in shades of rosemary, wild citrus, and marjoram. On the countertop next to the window are several bowls turned upside down to protect what Alec can only call mixtures. He frowns before remembering that one of Magnus’s obsessions in cooking were mushrooms. The rare and disgusting kinds if anyone were to ask him.

But what Alec finds the most endearing are the vegetables. He knows how Magnus likes to sort them out and visibly, he has kept the same habits in centuries. He sorts them out by colors, giving every corner of the room the right shade of red, yellow, green, or purple.

It’s all about the colors and how each piece reflects the light around, my dear, Magnus explained once. Would you like to help?

It was fun. It was more like Alec was fumbling with everything Magnus gave him than helping, but it felt like watching his husband apply his makeup or redecorate their home. Magnus was opening up for him, letting him share his view of the world, and it was mesmerizing. The world as a work of art. That was something new to Alec, and after getting a taste, he couldn’t get enough. Every detail pointed out by Magnus was like a revelation to him.

He is still daydreaming when Magnus starts cooking something, using some magic to speed things up. It stresses Alec again to watch his future husband use magic in front of him – a stranger. What happened?

“Please, have a seat, it will be ready soon.”

“Thanks.”

Alec does as he is told, not really knowing where to start, not wanting to make things worse by saying the wrong thing. He is about to ask what day it is when Magnus reads his mind again.

“I found you last night, some meaningless demons were after you. I wondered what demons could want with a Mundane in the middle of the night when I saw you draw a sword out of thin air. I thought you were a Shadowhunter, but I don’t see any rune or glamour.”

He stops for a while, deep in thought, allowing Alec the time bask in relief.

“You had almost all of them killed, and I was about to let you handle it when one of them bit you, and you collapsed. The thing poisoned you. It’s meant to affect your memory of them. Some kind of defense mechanism to make sure you don’t remember any of it.”

Oh.

Alec means to thank him, but Magnus continues in a more cautious voice.

“I’m guessing asking you who you are is useless, huh?” he turns slightly, enough for Alec to get a glimpse of his expression. Curiosity. Alec swallows thickly.

“I… I wish I could tell you, but it’s um—”

“Dangerous?”

“Yeah, sorry.”

Magnus sighs. “I figured. You said that a lot this morning… Normally, I’d try harder, but there’s clearly something unique about you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. It’s…something about the way my magic responded to you, or rather how your body accepted it like it would oxygen, and at the same time, something was keeping me out.”

“I’m sorry, I really can’t say a thing.”

“It’s alright. I have nothing but time to figure it out, and you must have a lot of fascinating stories to tell. I want to spend a nice evening for a change.” On those words, Magnus brings food to the table and smiles. “Shall we?”

Thousands of memories instantly bloom in Alec’s mind from the seeds of these words and this smile.

To appease his homesick heart, Alec answers what he always does, re-enacting a cherished routine he has been craving for the last month and a half. “After you.”