#- also most of this is taken from the books/thin air but i did include the stupid tongue thing

[ohbarty]

𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖗𝖞  𝖋𝖎𝖑𝖊𝖘  :  BARTEMIUS CROUCH JR is an eighteen year old pureblood. he is currently working as an intern for the department of magical law enforcement, and is suspected of siding with the death eaters. nicknamed the acolyte, they’re described to be disingenuous and devoted. wherever they go, they leave the scent of whiskey-splashed tea, the faint sweetness of an elderflower, & the air before a storm, and the memories of finding sanctuary in a rebellion, an oath of allegiance, the tell-tale tic, & houses that never felt like home behind. 

- STORY

barty was born on the 4th of june, the first and only child of bartemius crouch sr and his wife, eleanor crouch - though how they both came to the decision to bring him into the world was a mystery that would puzzle the young boy for much of his life. while his mother was almost unrelenting in showing her affection for him as a child, his father, despite how loving he was to his wife, always seemed to have something better to do, somewhere more important to be whenever it came time for him to look barty’s way. it was almost as if bringing a child into the house was just another present he was giving his wife, not something he had to really care about or check up on himself - not even sharing a name could make that happen.

although barty sr never seemed to want to spend all that much time with his son alone, that didn’t stop him from dragging him along to lavish ministry parties, where barty would end up being left to be watched by the usually older children of the witches and wizards his father was busy mingling with elsewhere. when it came time for him to accompany his mother as she spent time with her friends, his situation was practically mirrored. however young they were at the time, however, these weren’t connections that barty would come to regret making, even if they were forced upon him at first, nor were they ones he’d abandon soon.

when it came time for barty to go to hogwarts, he was thrilled - finally, he wouldn’t have to be faced each night with the absence of his father, finally, his time with his friends wouldn’t be backdropped by formal, boring conversation of how brilliant barty sr was - it was his dream come true. at least, it was before it actually did come true - it was before he, after almost four minutes of deliberation by the hat, was sorted into ravenclaw. 

after spending much of his youth and even just the train ride to the castle talking with his friends, many of whom were already students, about how he’d soon be in slytherin with them, about which teachers favoured their house and which ones didn’t, about how to snatch the best seats in the dungeon commonroom before anyone else could and how long it would take for him to get to each classroom in the morning, finding out that everything he’d learned through osmosis was going to be absolutely useless was more than a shock. though he knew he was curious and was frequently the first to figure out a solution or quickly spin up an alibi if ever a situation called for it, he had never considered he’d be sorted into ravenclaw - and as he got acquainted with his new housemates, it didn’t take long for him to decide that he hated it there. outside of the house quidditch team, who he made sure to treat politely and almost happily put up with when he came to join their ranks in his third year, barty didn’t waste any time making friends with his housemates - in his eyes, the lot of them were pretentious, arrogant, annoying gits, and though he played nice when he had to, he made sure to spend all of his free time as far away from them as possible, instead meeting up with his old slytherin friends and, after most of them had graduated, opted to study alone (for ‘his concentration’) rather than fall back on them as his last resort. he’d rather be seen as friendless than as a ravenclaw.

thanks to who he spent the majority of his time with, it wasn’t at all surprising the crowd he fell in with - despite his father’s life being dedicated by that point to throwing death eaters in azkaban, barty couldn’t wait to become one of them. if anything, crouch sr’s hatred of them only fuelled his desire to listen closely whenever they brought up the ‘dark lord’ - though it wasn’t the only reason he turned to his side, nor was the presence of the only people he could say he’d ever been really close to, though without them he wouldn’t have considered it at all. the main reason was lord voldemort himself. the issue of purebloods vs muggleborns honestly couldn’t have meant less to him by the time he got the dark mark emblazoned on his arm - it had only taken one in-person meeting with the man for him to decide his was the side he wanted to support. he was respected because he acted, feared because he deserved it, and though he made it clear he was the man in charge, he still at least responded when his followers talked to him - he had become more than his past had seemed to want to dictate for him, and that was nothing short of what barty wanted to. he was incredible - when it came between choosing his parents, one who hated him, one who only loved the idea of him, and lord voldemort, there was absolutely no doubt in his mind when he immediately sided with the latter. 

now, barty works as an intern/assistant in the department of magical law enforcement, a position granted partly for his O.W.L results, partly for the reputation of good work his father’s name carried, and partly for a sly imperius curse kindly performed on the wizard in charge of hiring by one of the other deatheaters who was already in the ministry. it’s dull work, and he couldn’t care less for it - but that’s not the impression he puts on. at work, he’s a curious, outgoing young wizard who just wants to live up to his father’s name - and sure, he might mislabel a few things, misplace a couple documents, accidentally let a few people off the hook, but it’s not as if anything he messes up really matters, does it? with you-know-who on the loose and all, the ministry have bigger problems than a couple rookie errors - at least, that’s what barty’s counting on. 

tldr: barty crouch jr’s dad neglected him, he was sorted into ravenclaw which he hated and spent most of his time with his slytherin friends from before hogwarts despite it, he became a death eater as soon as he graduated and now works as an intern/assistant for the ministry.

- PERSONALITY

although he hated himself for it because it meant he was sorted into ravenclaw, barty has always been fairly strategic and just generally intelligent, though he avoids chances where he may have to show it outside of a small comment here or a correction there, only bringing up what he learned through hours and hours of studying alone to avoid his housemates if it’s absolutely necessary. he’s cunning, but doesn’t pride himself for it. 

barty is nothing short of devoted, and when he finds some idea or person to be loyal to, he does it for the sake of being loyalty, not caring at all for what he personally could gain from it, how it would impact his reputation - he only did well in school because he learned for the sake of learning, not to do well, and now he’s joined voldemort, he cares purely for the man and the cause itself, having no real end goal in sight, despising anyone who’s a death eater for personal gain despite their shared allegiance

in fact, looking to the future has never been something barty’s been particularly good at - though he does make plans, thorough plans, and since he was a kid has been able to whip up excuses like that, when things go wrong, he prefers to think of a solution on his feet rather than plan for it in advance, and has pretty much no idea what he wants to do beyond the vague idea of helping his fellow death eaters to voldemort win, with no real ambition outside of that. he gets frustrated when he has to think of alternate possibilities, something that he’s been struggling with since he was at hogwarts - divination and astronomy were always his worst subjects. 

barty can get surprisingly emotional - though it’s something he worked furiously to hide as he drew closer to his graduation, he is genuinely fairly sensitive when it comes to things he actually cares about and can take things very hard. simply, he commits with his heart rather than his brain. although he has been able to force himself to cry to manipulate someone in a certain way, the fact he once spent a night sobbing over the death of his family owl is something he’d rather keep from the rest of the death eaters. 

barty is very observant, and very keen at spotting fine details - while so far it’s only really helped him at catching snitches, it has started to help him pick up on the mannerisms and habits of those around him. 

barty is a fairly decent manipulator - though he’s still learning, he’s great at covering up his own emotions or even his whole demeanor to keep him from being caught out in a lie, something which has been especially helpful during his time at the ministry, and it’s a skill which has definitely come in handy in general. 

- HEADCANONS

do not call barty bartemius. bartemius, even if he doesn’t go by it much himself, is his father’s name - at the best of times, barty doesn’t even being like called crouch. he’s barty, or bart, or anything else - he’s not bartemius. 

barty has always loved quidditch, and the only ravenclaws he didn’t view with utter disdain while he was at hogwarts were the members of the quidditch team, which he joined in his third year as a seeker. 

he hasn’t spoken to either his mother or father since he left their home the night after graduating from hogwarts, despite working in incredibly close proximity with the latter

barty is a brilliant actor - though it hasn’t served him much use yet outside of just helping him stick to lies since he was a kid. how committed he is to whatever cause he’s focused on definitely helps the fact - he just has one infuriating achilles heel (see below)

whenever he’s nervous, stressed, or just caught off guard, barty has a habit of flicking his tongue over the corner of his mouth

when he’s around ministry people, he’ll keep his sleeves rolled down, though when he’s with death eaters, he’ll keep them rolled up

- WANTED CONNECTIONS

honestly i think i’d love any connections for him but that’s super vague so unless there’s a specific idea for him and another character here are some ideas!

pre-hogwarts/slytherin/death eater friends: originally these were all gonna be different points but all overlap so, whatever - basically, barty went into hogwarts with a lot of friends he’d met through his parents various parties and get togethers who either were already or were lined up to be slytherins, and when he was sorted into ravenclaw, he still spent most of his time with them - which is how he fell in with the death eaters. your character could be one or all three of these things, i just feel like this is the biggest section that can be covered simply lol

people who look out for him: that’s phrased very harshly but whatever - pretty much guaranteed to fit in with the above, someone who probably took him under his wing way before hogwarts and probably has something of an older-sibling like connection with them? he’d be super loyal to them - probably as loyal as he is to voldemort, though that probably wouldn’t be an issue since they probably would be as well. there’s a lot of probablys here - lots can be changed depending on your character, hell, maybe they knew him before hogwarts and tried to steer him away from hogwarts, i dunno! up to discussion

school best friend: again, a lot of potential overlap with the above two, but pretty much someone probably closer to barty’s age who he got on with really well in school and probably still does now - someone to confide in, to make stupid plans with, to help sneak firewhiskey into the school long before they’re allowed to drink it. 

death eater allies: different from friends - basically, though they’re both with voldemort, they don’t necessarily get along. maybe they find him annoying, maybe he finds them too self-focused, maybe there’s just bad vibes - could be anything. he’s still pretty young at this point and would definitely be taking orders and learning from people above him in the pecking order, so something could come of that.

ravenclaw housemates: barty, despite being a ravenclaw, does not like ravenclaws - but he couldn’t always avoid them. even if he slinked off to be with his slytherin friends, he’d still be spending a lot of time with his housemates, so definitely some connection possibilities there, especially if they were on the quidditch team with him - absolutely not a necessity, though

ministry coworkers: could be order, could be neutral, could be deatheaters - just people barty spends his day with at work, pretty much. maybe they’re working together to sabotage things, maybe they suspect him of something, maybe they’re genuine work friends who are completely oblivious to one anothers allegiances - who knows

a lot of these are very vague, but like i said most of these are sort of just jumping off points and i really am down for pretty much any connection - genuinely just throw any idea at me

- OOC

hello! my name’s ringo, i’m 19, and i live in melbourne, australia (aest/aedt in less than a month)

my name’s not actually ringo, sorry for lying to you all for the briefest of seconds - my real name is jackson, but that’s pretty boring, and i’ve been using the name ringo since i first got my mum (whose a big beatles fan) to help me pick out a club penguin username when i was seven so going by anything else twelve years later is insane to me - if you want to call me jackson, though, that’s totally fine

this is my first time rping since 2018, when i decided to call it quits for a bit so i could focus on my vce exams - graduated last year, though, so i think i’m more than ready to get back into it, just please excuse me if i’m a little rusty

i do just really quickly want to make a note about my availability for plotting and replying and just generally being online, and this is the main reason i made this a whole section instead of just putting my name, age, and timezone up the top - even though i’m not currently studying (rip gap year europe trip) or working (recession), it’s pretty hard for me to get a lot of time online these days. i’m gonna try and keep this transparent while also not oversharing too much, but basically, my mum is a nurse working in one of the bigger hospitals here, and for the sake of keeping our family safe, she’s been isolating - and her not being here means i’m the only one looking after my three younger siblings. as well as needing to shop, cook, and generally take care of the house, i need to support them while they’re learning from home, so more weekdays than not i only really have the evenings to myself, at least until their end of term. i know this might make replies a bit patchy, and i really am sorry about that - but i just figured it would be better to just put this out there now, and i really hope its alright if i ask that you be a bit patient with me if things take a while. cheers!

anyway - my discord as of a few hours ago is jackyboyringo#1444 and you already know where my tumblr is, so please just hmu if you want to plot anything or even just chat! can’t wait to start writing!

[mrwinterr]

Over & Over

Pairing: Pornstar!Bucky Barnes AU x Pornstar!Female Reader

Summary: You’re an up-and-coming adult film star secretly eager to work with the popular Bucky Barnes, and with just the right connections, your paths cross much sooner than later.

Warnings: Adult themes. Smut 18+ (unprotected sex, vaginal penetration and instructional fingering, oral [male & female receiving], size kink, spit & cum play, a smudge of male dominance), dirty talk and language.

Disclaimer: I don’t know how the porn industry works; this was just written for fun.

Title Inspiration: “Over & Over” by Smallpools

A/N: After doping up on strong painkillers wasn’t enough, I thought releasing endorphins would help ease my headache, so once again watching porn inspired another fic. Idk. I’m a mess. Enjoy!

Slipping on your oversized sunglasses, you walk along the rectangular outline of the hotel’s lavish pool, to one of the vacant lounge chairs next to the redheaded goddess, whose wings you were taken under and could gratefully call a close friend. You hadn’t known a single soul when you packed up and moved west to Los Angeles at 18, but you knew you were destined for more than what your humdrum life back at home could offer.

The porn industry wasn’t your first choice at a career in entertainment, but the starving profession wasn’t paying the bills fast enough. You weren’t going to survive in L.A. another year juggling to pay for tuition and stay enrolled in acting school from the income of working menial jobs and booking small gigs. However, one minor role as an extra in a one-night stand sex scene of a TV show, you catch the eye of the multitalented adult film actress Natasha Romanoff.

It was pure coincidence she was also casted, playing a bigger role, of the same episode, but she saw more in you in your less than 15 seconds of fame than most casting agents did before offering you a chance to shadow her. You knew she looked familiar and you were no stranger to watching porn, but when you’re as down on your luck as you were, you went all in and soon enough countless scenes now under your belt within a year, you’re porn’s best female newcomer.

“There’s this year’s Best New Starlet!” Natasha proclaims loudly for almost everyone around to hear.

Lucky for you, the shades conceal the roll of your eyes at her comment as you kick off your flip-flops and remove the thin cover up to reveal your skimpy bikini. You dare look over at her in time to catch her mocking reaction, jaw dropped from your attitude.

“After all I’ve done for you,” she says, placing a hand to her heart, feigning hurt.

The pair of you laugh at your nonsense and after she helps you with applying the appropriate amount of sun care protection, you recline in your seats and attempt to soak up some sun. It was a much-needed break with the long stressful week of the award show now behind everyone. Your hard work had paid off and after all you did learn from the best.

Your predecessor before you, Natasha was also a former Best New Starlet, and now is a household name in pornography. She didn’t welcome a lot of people into her inner circle, but she had plans to one day direct and knew she had to find the next big thing before anyone else to take her place.

“Hello, ladies,” comes from the voice of this year’s Director of the Year and other close friend Wanda Maximoff.

“Hey Wanda,” you greet her by sitting up to give her a proper hug.

You met her through her twin brother, Pietro, who happened to be your first co-star and was very welcoming and caring to you. The twins took care of you during your first few months starting out. Much like Natasha did for you, you help her administer the same amount of sunscreen on her body.

“Congrats on your achievement,” she says wholeheartedly, looking over her shoulder at you as you finish up on her back, and even under the heat of the sun, she could still see the blush creep up on your face.

“She’s a natural, isn’t she?” Natasha comments casually, to which Wanda nods enthusiastically, only speeding up the process of the rose tints on your cheeks to spread all over your face. They were your biggest fans and supporters; you were so happy you could make them proud.

“I owe it all to the queen herself,” you say, downplaying your achievement and turning the attention to your mentor in Natasha. She scoffs at that and teases you about just taking the damn compliment. You put in the work; it was all you.

“Seriously, you deserved it,” Wanda says honestly, and you finally accept the praise.

“So, what’s next for miss Director of the Year?” Natasha asks leaning on a propped elbow, body facing towards you and Wanda.

“Well, I managed to finally book Bucky Barnes in an upcoming project…” she starts out, but the moment you heard his name slip from her lips, the rest almost didn’t matter.

Bucky Barnes was somewhat of a legend. There wasn’t a model or director that didn’t want to work with him. The man was downright gifted in every aspect and his work speaks for itself. Before you broke onto the scene, you’d gotten off to his videos, and only dreamed of one day starring in a scene with him, but you were still new to this world.

As a promising star, you had a long way to go and tons of plots, positions and people to still experience, so landing a role with someone like Bucky Barnes wasn’t entirely written in your plans any time soon. Then again, your first girl-on-girl scene was with your mentor herself, so anything could happen, right?

“I just haven’t found my girl yet,” was the next thing you pick up Wanda say the moment your head comes back from the clouds, “...I have all this momentum now that I want this to blow everyone away, especially Stark.”

Tony Stark was her rival. It was a friendly competition amongst friends. You hadn’t gotten the chance to work for him yet. He was a playful character and had directed some of the best adult films out there, Wanda just happened to be the better of the two this year…

“Sorry, I’m retired,” Natasha reminds her and repositions herself on her back.

“Fuck you,” Wanda says playfully to which Natasha responds with a finger in the air before she clarifies, “I was hinting at this year’s Best New Starlet…” and slyly looking in your directly.

“Me?” You ask incredulously. Your head can’t even start processing that you’re finally getting the opportunity to work with Bucky.

Wanda rolls her eyes at your obliviousness, “no, last year’s Best New Starlet. Hell no! Of course, you!” You respond in the same manner as your mentor, who is more than amused at you also following her lead, and flip Wanda off. Wanda snatches your hand to bring it away from her face, “I’m serious!”

“I-I don’t know, Wan,” a part of you is a little scared that you’re not going to be able to keep up with someone as established and with the star power as Bucky, “...like you said, you have all this momentum behind you. I don’t want to fuck this scene up because I don’t have a lot of experience.”

“Are you fucking kidding?” Natasha pipes up on the other side of you. “This is the perfect role for you!” She sees the questionable look on your face and sighs before explaining. “You’re a fresh face and rising star! People are lining up to book you, Stark included.”

“Nat is right. You’re a hot commodity now! I need someone who is a little inexperienced to mix with someone that is,” Wanda further explains her premise, “let him take the lead, but at your pace. I need it to be raw and passionate. People love that shit!” They were right, he had all the experience, and you were a fresh loveable face. It was the perfect combination.

You remain quiet for several seconds before Natasha rats you out, “and don’t even try to act like you don’t want to work with Barnes. This is your fantasy come to life.” Way to throw you under the bus like that…

There’s no denying your goal to work with him. He’d been in this business much longer than you had, you didn’t think your paths would ever cross on a set, but the opportunity couldn’t have presented itself in a more perfect point in your career.

The room is very pristine. White walls with a king size bed, also adorned in white sheets, fluffy pillows scattered at the top, minimal furniture around to make it look realistic, and the lighting was just right. Wanda had received a hefty budget after her recognition that’s for sure.

“Alright, girly, let’s get you on the bed!” Wanda happily directs.

You nod silently, remove your footwear and plop down on the center of the large mattress. You decide to leave your legs sprawled on one side of your body, settling on a bashful position. It’s not hard for you because although you agreed to do this and have done several scenes, internally, you’re freaking the fuck out. Unbeknownst to you, it’s all part of your charm; the innocence you somehow still radiated was an all too endearing quality and actually sexy.

Even your attire was pretty modest, opting for a more casual look with black leggings and a tight long sleeve that accentuates your figure and shows off the right amount of cleavage. It was something that you could easily wear out in public, which again was a part of your brand in being as natural as possible, but come the right circumstances, when it was time to roll you could turn on the right switch.

“We’ll start off like a typical casting interview before we bring Bucky in and then we’ll go from there. Sounds good?” She runs down the plan with you, fixing a few strands of flyaway hairs on your head before back away from the bed. With a thumbs up and a smile from you, she starts recording.

“Welcome, Best New Starlet of the Year!” Wanda greets from behind the camera.

“Hi,” you politely reply with your signature sweet smile and a wave to the screen.

These scenes start off with a small interview recounting your tale into the porn industry leading up to your recent achievement and even delving a bit into your personal life before the topic changes to your co-star.

“So, how excited are you to work with Bucky today?”

No matter how hard you practiced at keeping a straight poker face, that was something you were unable to master from Natasha, and the blush couldn’t be contained.

Fidgeting at the hem of your top, you open and close your mouth, trying to find the right words. You’re overly flustered at the thought of Bucky and he wasn’t even in front of you yet. You don’t want to sound like a fool and ruin the atmosphere. Wanda mouths words of advice from where she sat in the director’s chair, “be honest.”

“Um, I’m...nervous,” you say truthfully.

“Nervous?” She questions, urging you to elaborate.

“Yeah, he’s Bucky Barnes! He’s hot and he’s got so much experience. I’m kind of scared I’ll be boring,” you finish explaining and hope to God that Natasha doesn’t kill you afterwards, or with that answer let Wanda down, but the smile on her face sends you a wave of assurance.

Maybe you could do this...

Earlier that day, Bucky had already recorded his little opening scene. Wanda had called him to report on set before you were scheduled to arrive.

On the contrary, Bucky was also a tab bit anxious to work with you. He’d seen some of your work and more so heard about your talent from his own best friend, Steve Rogers.

He didn’t deny it, he was very much attracted to you and he wanted a chance to work with you too. Bucky wasn’t a jealous person, which made working in the porn industry easy for him, but when he had to hear Steve recount his scenes with you, he couldn’t help but want to sock his own childhood friend. He didn’t of course, but the rage was evident and his other friend, Sam Wilson, took some sick pleasure in teasing him over it. In fact, the eccentric personality of the trio of friends, decided to tag along with Bucky to introduce himself to you and get under his skin a little more.

“What’s going on in that nasty head of yours?” Sam poked at Bucky as they made their way over to Wanda, who was by the camera setup going over a script with another stagehand. When Bucky doesn’t respond, it provokes Sam even more, “no way, you’re nervous!”

Bucky sighs fed up with dealing with the anxiety brewing ever since he found out he was going to star in this film with you. “Shut the fuck up, will you? Of course, I’m nervous,” he says, trying to remain calm.

“Dude, you’ve slept with some of the hottest people in the world and millions of people have seen you naked. Why is one girl any different?” Sam wonders.

“I don’t know, ok. She just seems so down-to-earth and normal?” Bucky attempts to explain. You were real. His work was just that, it was a work, and he was afraid that it would be different with you. He could say he was almost intimidated by you.

“Yeah, as if I don’t have to hear that enough from Rogers…” Sam chimed in. Steve had nothing but high praise for your performance. In fact, his testimony helped expose you a little further. He was an honorable performer and a respected one, so they took his word on you. “Maybe, I’ll be her next co-star,” and just like that Sam ruined a moment.

“God, I hate you,” was the last thing exchanged between the two friends as they finally reached Wanda. She warned Sam to behave and gave Bucky a quick rundown before instructing him to hop on the bed.

Bucky’s interview starts a little differently than yours. Having already been a more established performer than yourself, no one needed his background story. The only thing Wanda wanted out of him was his plans and opinion on you.

“Well, I don’t know too much about her, personally speaking...but everyone seems to love her,” Bucky’s answer was a bit bland for Wanda.

“She’s a great person to work with,” she comments and that’s a tactic most directors used to get talent to keep talking.

“That’s what Steve keeps saying,” he says with somewhat of an awkward light laugh. He could see Sam facepalming next to Wanda at that lame answer.

“Yeah, you don’t win best female newcomer for nothing,” Wanda points out. If anyone was the lucky one here, it was Bucky. He was climbing up in age and you were the next big thing. You were the real star of this film not Bucky. She was counting more on you to deliver than him.

“That’s right. She’s a very talented performer,” Bucky says, and this small comment opens up a can of worms for Wanda to build up on.

“Oh, so you’ve seen some of her work?” Bam! He was caught.

Bucky’s mouth starts twitching slightly and Wanda and Sam are smirking from their spots as they watch the gears in Bucky’s mind start turning faster trying to think of something. The only piece of advice Wanda gives is “be honest.”

He sighs, the jig was up. Smooth Bucky Barnes was caught red-handed, “yeah, I’ve watched some scenes. I’ve seen her in person a few times too…”

“Wait,” Wanda interrupts him abruptly. She knew you were attracted to Bucky, but never knew of any encounters between you two, “when did you meet her?”

“I haven’t,” Bucky starts, which causes a look of mass confusion on Wanda’s face before he follows up, “formally. I haven’t met her formally, but I’ve seen her at a few parties and at the award show...I was just nervous to walk up to her,” the words just kept flowing out of his mouth and he inwardly cringed at how awkward he might’ve sounded.

Sam was amused by his embarrassment, but Wanda was pleased with this result. Bucky was good at what he did and that included him trying to play it cool, which he did well on screen, sometimes.

“You know she was actually thrilled to find out she would be working with you,” Wanda said, stretching the truth. The truth was, you hadn’t verbally confessed that, at least not yet.

“Really?” Bucky asks all too hopeful, his mood noticeably perking up.

“Yup! Ever since she won Best New Starlet of the Year, people have been lining up to book her, but she chose this project. You were the deal breaker, Barnes,” she fabricated and hoped this all worked out for you two in the end.

“Wow, who would’ve thought this has-been still had it in him?” He jokes at himself. His humility would get the best of him in every situation.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself! You didn’t win Best Male Performer of the Year again for nothing!” Wanda says and then steers the interview to a close.

After wrapping up Bucky’s scene, he’s allowed to stay in another room with a monitor. At first, he thinks it’s to help him prep for the scene, but to his surprise it’s a live feed of your interview and he starts clinging onto your every word. Enthralled by your journey, work ethic and he gets flustered all over again hearing you talk about your equal eagerness to work with him.

“You know, if anyone is the lucky one in this situation, it’s Barnes,” Wanda reminds as your interview comes to an end.

“Right,” you sarcastically remark.

“Are you ready for us to bring Bucky in?” She asks.

“It’s now or never,” you reply. 

You watch the doorknob twist and the door open to slowly reveal Bucky. Where do you even start with him? He just looked like the total package. His gaze immediately on yours. As he makes his way towards the bed you’re still sitting on, when his knee comes in contact to the edge, you maneuver your body in his direction, sit up on your knees to meet him halfway and welcome him in a hug.

“Hi, it’s nice to finally meet you,” he says when you pull apart. The both of you don’t break away completely. Your arms are still wrapped around his neck, his hands placed just above your waist, you can feel his fingers that slipped under the fabric rub your skin.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you respond, giving him a genuine smile and can’t help but stare at his pretty face. You had to remind yourself he’s just another guy, except he wasn’t. You didn’t know how he felt, but you wanted this, wanted him. You also don’t know if you’ll ever work him again after today, so he was going to get the real you.

A small, subtle clearing of someone’s throat shatters the staring contest between you and Bucky causing you both to sheepishly break away from the other, not realizing you’d both allowed dreaded dead airtime to pass by. You scoot over to make room for him next to you on the bed. After he pulls his footwear off, he sits cross legged in front of you, you have one leg tucked in and the other extended in front.

Bucky’s not entirely oblivious. He not only witnessed you backstage reveal you were actually nervous to work with him, he could feel it, so at an attempt to help ease both your nerves, he places a hand on your shin and absentmindedly run his hand up and down the fabric, fingers sometimes stopping to mess with the cuff of your leggings and at the skin of your ankle, while he listened to you speak.

He congratulated you on your achievement as you did with him, both a blushing mess before diving into different topics like traveling and other interests.

Wanda stood proudly behind the camera watching the scene unfold. Everything was so candid and real between you and Bucky, the chemistry was clearly evident, she didn’t foresee there would be much directing on her part today, which was going to make her job easy.

“Wanda said you were excited to work with me,” Bucky teases, wanting to see if what you said was just for the cameras or if it was really true, but also, he found out he liked to see you get all hot and bothered in more than one way.

Your jaw drops and you look directly into the camera, breaking the fourth wall, calling out to Wanda. You playfully chastise and curse at her for revealing your secret. She tells you it was going to come out anyways, and while that was true, you’d hoped it was later and much after you’ve slept with him, hoping it doesn’t ruin the shoot, but Bucky assures you that it’s actually a flattering to hear or in his words, “assuring” for someone like him.

“Are you kidding?” You say, lightly shoving him back, “you’re like a legend! Of course, I was excited! I’m surprised you agreed to work with a rookie like me!” Now that the cat was out of the bag, you might as well own up to your secret.

“Everyone wants to work with you,” he makes clear, leaning in closer. Fuck, he didn’t even need to initiate foreplay because with the way he was looking at you right now, you could come swear you’d come undone for him in an instant.

“Oh really?” You challenge, your body gravitating like a magnet towards his.

“Yup, Steve wouldn’t shut up about you and even Sam said he can’t wait to someday work with you,” he said, voice slowly dropping in decibels and his hands sliding up your thighs.

“Did he?” You ask, but you don’t really care about Sam as your eyes look dead into Bucky’s blue ones, swirling into a darker shade full of deep want and desire.

“Yeah, but let’s see if he still wants to try to outdo me after I’m done with you,” he whispers, finally closing the gap between your lips in a sweet kiss. It was about as sweet as it could last because after just one taste of your lips, he was a starved man, hungry for more. You tried your best to match his pace and the kiss turned sloppy very quick.

You moaned at the pressure of his lips pressed roughly against yours, and you do your best to keep up, but you’re already finding yourself short of breath. However, the more you try to pull back to regain some oxygen, the more he’s unwilling to part as he grasps your face in both hands to keep you still, so you lightly squeeze at his biceps as a warning in hope he gets the message.

Lucky for you, he does and lets up. He’s also noticeably breathless, his warm breath fanning against your kiss-swollen lips, his forehead resting against yours. Bucky’s hands are still on your face.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, and you let out a small chuckle at the sincerity. He was cute.

You take his hands in yours and bring them back down to begin undressing him starting by helping him slip his shirt over his head, the fashionable dog tags around his neck clank as it slaps against his toned chest, you let him keep them on though.

Bucky sits up on his knees as he watches you settle on your stomach, propped up by your elbows, hands getting ready to work on his lower half. He patiently watches as you unbuckle his belt, pop the button of his jeans off, and drag the zipper down.

With his pants hanging loose off his hips, you begin to plant soft kisses along his navel down the defined lines that lead to his cock. Each contact of your lips sends a ghostly tingle and the blood to rush even quicker down his lower region. The imprint of his endowed member doesn’t leave much to your imagination, you can already see the stain where the tip is through his tight boxer briefs. It gives you a little boost of confidence knowing you’d caused this and would get to take care of it.

You hook your fingers into the undergarment and tug them down his muscular thighs. His cock springs out, almost hitting you in the face causing you to jolt back a little and a smile to spread across Bucky’s.

Your clumsiness was also a part of your charm. It wasn’t on purpose, you were still learning after all, and that’s what made it so unique and fun to work with you. Your partners just felt a real, genuine connection, citing it felt less choreographed and of a porno with you.

A little embarrassed about that move, you’d watched what he can do with that cock, but nothing could’ve prepared you for it face-to-face. You don’t waste any time on getting your hands on him and wrap your fingers around his half-hard cock and start pumping him sensually.

He’s hot and soft in your hands before getting gradually heavy. The look in your eyes grows more predatory as you watch him grow and feel him getting harder with each pump causing more and more pre-cum to ooze out. You spread it all over the head of his cock with your thumb then daring to look up at him, hoping he was indeed enjoying your work, before you pucker your lips and kiss at the crown. Bucky curses when he sees your lips shining, coated in his pre-cum, with a string connecting you to his cock.

You gather the fluid up in your hand before spreading it all over his length, when it’s not enough you start not only pumping him faster, but also licking up and down, from the base to the tip, hoping to effectively slick him up. The way your tongue scrapes along over Bucky’s sensitive flesh stirs him up. Your other hand joins in to fondle with his neglected balls, massaging and pulling at them in the right moments, sometimes you travel a little south and take them in your mouth. It all but drives Bucky wild and it’s confirmed with each swear that leaves his mouth.

Bucky wants nothing more than to lodge himself deep in your throat, but he remembers he needs to go at your pace, and once you’re broken in a little more, you could follow his, so he’ll bide his time for now and watch you work.

When you’re ready to take him in, you regain his attention and he watches you slowly take in his inches down your mouth, stopping halfway before your wide-open mouth hollows out. Your full mouth immediately waters around him and it doesn’t take long before you’re a drooling mess all over his cock. You pull back torturously slow, looking back down watching his cock reappear and loving the way it disappears back in, and especially how it feels when it drags through your mouth, taking note of the veins and unique ridges.

“Don’t be like that, doll,” he says, wiping some of the hair away from your face, “come on and show me why they don’t stop talking about you,” he coaxes, now gathering some of your locks in his hand to completely give you both a clear view. He tries his best to not take the lead, but you don’t disappoint as your mouth works faster on him. The gagging and sucking, mixed with Bucky’s moans of pleasure soon become the soundtrack.

You’d gradually take him more and more in, close to deep throating him, and you’re just ready to let up, but he can’t help it and before your last round, he holds your head in place.

“Don’t quit now, baby,” he encourages you, placing his other hand on the back of your head, keeping you still and carefully starts to thrust his hips, urging you to take him all the way, “...that’s it, you can do it, you can take it,” he releases a big sigh feeling the tip of your nose bump his lower abdomen. The moisture builds up in the inner corner of your eyes and you do your best to mind your breathing and not choke.

“Fuck!” He can’t help but shout when he feels your throat contract around him. You just looked so divine, mouth full of his cock. He keeps you there for a few seconds, before releasing his hold, and you immediately pull back, drool dribbles down your chin, and you’re desperate for oxygen to return back into your system. He grabs your face by your chin forcing you to look up at him.

He uses his fingers to scoop up some of the mixed fluids of his arousal and your saliva at your chin before presenting it in front of you. You easily read his mind, look up at him with big, watery eyes, and take his coated digits in your abused mouth sucking the juices clean off him. 

He growls and commends you, “...such a good girl.” When he slips his fingers out of your mouth, a small pop could faintly be heard, he gently yanks at your hair, craning your head back further, it’s almost painful but you don’t care, “do it again,” he demands.

You bite your lip and reposition yourself. Bucky settles in a more comfortable position on his back, completely rid of his pants and underwear, his legs spread open for you to lie between them. Before you get back to the job, you slip your tight top off, all-natural breasts spilling out and on display for him. His cock twitches at the sight and he lets his head fall back when he’s once more fully encased in the warm, wet cavern of your mouth.

When he finally starts begging you to let up, you pull back slowly pumping him and watch his every move, the rise of his chest as it heaves from the activity, the way he runs his hands over his face. He’s absolutely stunned by your performance so far.

“On your back,” he says, and you do as he commands, and forget who is supposed to really be in charge. He yanks your leggings and panties all the way down, chucking them behind him somewhere in the corner of the room.

“You’re so sexy,” he compliments, eyes taking in every inch of your naked body, hands getting their fill. His body dips, lips latching onto your breasts, kissing at the skin and sucking on each nipple before they make their way up the juncture of your neck and claim your lips again.

You feel his tongue run along your bottom lip, and they part to grant him full access. You barely notice how he takes a hold of one of your hands, he pulls his face away to bring the hand in his grasp up to your face, using your fingers to trace the outline of your lips. You see him inaudibly instruct you to open your mouth, you do as you’re told.

“That’s right get those fingers nice and wet,” he coaxes you to suck on your own digits until he deems you ready for the next move. When he finally does pull your fingers out from your mouth, he extends your arm, ghosting them just over your pussy.

“Play with that clit,” he tells you and you don’t need to be told twice. Your pussy was begging for any kind of attention. You let your wet fingers roll over the bundle of nerves, puffs of breath escape your body as you’re finally attending to your own needs.

Bucky sits back and watches you intently, fascinated by your every move. He instructs you to close your eyes and listen to his voice, instructing you to go slow at first, “does that feel good?” the only reply he gets is a fast nod, “yeah? Make yourself feel good...that’s it,” his words only encourage your fingers to soon work faster, “let me hear how good it feels,” he demands, and you moan and whine like the true pornstar you are, your circular motions speed up, the lewd noises egg him on and soon enough he wants a taste.

“Let me help you out,” and you feel the bed shift a bit, “spread those wet lips for me,” he requests. You use both hands to invite him into your wet, glistening hole. You pick your head up to see his face buried between your thighs, you watch just long enough until each broad lick up and down your pussy sends you close to the edge.

He no longer needs the support of your hands, and they find purchase in his dark, fluffy hair as he starts sucking on your clit and tonguing your folds. At first, you’re doing a good job keeping your legs apart to accommodate him, but it gets harder and harder for them to not clamp around his head, with every nudge the tip of his nose makes at your clit and it doesn’t help your case when he inserts a finger inside you. With a good curl, his finger scratches dangerously close to your sweet spot, causing your legs to start quivering.

The sudden hitch in your breathing catches his attention, and Bucky tests the waters more by digging in deeper and curling in further. He notices the increasing agitation and knows he’s found the trigger.

“Bucky,” you whine, hoping he doesn’t push you over just yet. You want to last longer, and so you reluctantly attempt to scoot back further away, but the sudden strong grip  he has around your leg locks you in place. You pick your head back up and find Bucky’s eyes trained on you. You see the stoic look in his eyes laced with determination. Oh no, he wanted you to come now. You feel a hum from his full mouth, only pushing you further.  

“Don’t hold back,” he says against your pussy, “let go,” and the gruff in his voice, vibrating against you, his thick digits still curled deep inside you, you can’t hold back the floodgates from bursting any longer.

He laps up your arousal as you desperately try to regain composure. He really pulled one out of you, proving he was as every bit good as he put out and you’re not even close to the end of this scene.  

“Come here,” he says, getting back on his knees and pulling you up by your arms so you’re in an up-right sitting position once again, but with Bucky still towering over you, “open up.”

You comply and open your mouth wide, tongue out, not understanding his motive, and you’re met with full surprise when he spits in your mouth, a firm grip on your face, he holds you still.

“Don’t swallow,” he gravely warns. You feel and probably look stupid not knowing what he wants you to do with your mouth open wide and full of his spit mingling with your arousal, just trying to keep it all contained. Bucky was testing your patience and obedience and you passed every test so far. You were just the right amount of submissive, absolutely perfect.

You can feel his hard cock pressing up against your sensitive pussy, it slides up between your folds and the base rests on top of your mound. “Drool it out...on my cock,” he instructs. Oh. He guides your gaze down between your bodies, you purse your lips, and both watch as the liquid cascades down onto his erect member. He uses it to lube himself up before he pushes you down to lie flat on your back.

Bucky slowly but easily slips inside your wet channel but notices your slight struggle. He was big, and he gets it. The way your eyes are tightly shut, hands pulling at the sheets, you struggle to breath and your walls cruelly grip him tight. Normally, he’d just pound away until his partner got used to him, but he didn’t want to do that with you. He wanted you to enjoy feeling him.

He tries to help you relax by rubbing your thighs a little with soothing motions, when they fall limp on either side, he leans down, you feel the cool metal of his dog tags against your heated skin, his weight sort of comforting on yours, and arms entrapping your head. He lovingly calls out your name, and your eyes flutter open, your attention refocusing on him.

“We’ll go at your pace, alright?” he assures you. You curse yourself for allowing your heart to swell at his concern, but you nod giving him permission to move slowly. Your whimpers soon transition into pleasurable moans, the more your body begins to adjust to his.

“Damn, you’re so tight. You’ve never been stretched out like this by anyone before have you?” he dares ask, once he sees it’s a safe playing field once more, his hips moving slow, his cock sliding in and out of you. You attempt at a laugh between your ragged breathing and the intense sensation coursing through you.

“No,” you respond and kiss at his chin, the light stubble pricking your soft lips, “you’re so big.” You feel his cock twitch inside and you want to curse yourself again at the comment that unintentionally riles him up because he was nestled close to your spot again. Fuck, he could reach just the right depth in you.

“Fuck, Bucky,” you don’t want to go slow anymore. Fuck Wanda and this movie, you wanted all of Bucky now, “please fuck me,” you resort to begging. He inwardly growls and his hips start snapping forward, thrusts growing hard and uncalculated. You just lie there and allow him to use your pussy for his pleasure.

Bucky’s movements falter a bit in this position, so he steers both your bodies on their sides, still facing each other, he slings your leg high up over his hips, and resumes his task. His cock glides right back in your pussy and the new angle causes you to yelp and walls to clench around him.

“You feel so good,” his voice riddled with so much lust as he brings your body closer to his with a hand behind, full of your plushest asset. Your head rests on the bicep of his other arm that was underneath it.

Bucky’s expressive eyes ask you if you're close, and the more your walls continue to grip him, he starts begging for you to come with him. “I’m gonna cum,” he warns, giving up and letting you take the rest of the lead.

“Yeah?” you huff out, your fingers digging into the side of his hips, “you want to cum inside me?” You know he does; you can feel and see it written all over him, but you want to just poke at him like he had with you, “I want you to...I want all your cum inside me, Bucky,” and you wanted him to cum hard, deep inside, “fill my tight pussy up, please,” you plead.

With one more jab of his hips, your back arches and head is thrown back, you can’t help but let out a scream as your orgasm rips right through you like it’s never before. Bucky’s body on the other hand caves into yours, feeling almost paralyzed as your tight walls hold him in place and all he can do is bury his face into the sweaty skin of your neck.

His mouth hangs open, a plethora of profanities coming out of him, and he waits for his cock to finish spewing ropes of his hot, thick cum into you. Your walls can’t help but to involuntarily contract in small aftershocks, especially when he’s still coming.

Bucky continues to moan as he does as you hoped, he came hard and deep inside you. When you’ve both finally come down from the high, it’s silent, and even though you’d both long forgotten you were on a set with multiple people watching you two, they were also quiet, completely taken back by the performance.

Incoherent cries come out of each of you, when Bucky agonizingly pulls his cock out. For the most part you’re able to keep him inside, but he’d proven to come so much some of it seeps out and runs down in streak fashion along your thigh, staining the bed sheets.

In your last act, as your gazes meet each other again, your fingers dip inside your soaked cunt and coat them. Hypnotized by you, Bucky watches as you greedily suck off his essence from your digits, and you evoke a small hum in his favor at the taste bursting in your mouth.  

Bucky bites at his bottom lip, trying to not lose it again. When your hand disappears, he tenderly wipes the matted hair away from your face, smoothing your hair back before pulling your body close again, swooping your lips for a deep kiss.

“Shit, you’re good,” he admits, when he pulls away, effectively breaking the blissful silence. You bust out in a fit of giggles beside him and it’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen. He’s not sure what he’s feeling, but it’s not something you’re supposed to feel towards your co-star, especially in the porn industry.    

He smiles at you, basking in your afterglow and all he knows is that he wants to feel this high with you over and over, so he decides to risk it all, “I hope this doesn’t ruin the moment, but can I take you out some time?”

You try your best to read him, wondering if he was just still in the heat of the moment. Either he’s really good or he’s being sincere, you can’t tell and you’re hoping you’re not overthinking it, but his eyes, this whole time, were what gave him away. He performed with them and he definitely spoke through them.

Before you could accept and give him a definite answer, you’re both brought back to reality, “we’re still rolling here!” Wanda reminds.

A/N: Thank the pain meds for this. I think I effectively used up my vacation days the right way, won’t you agree? Likes, reblogs and comments/emojis are appreciated! 

[dameronology]

that’s all {din djarin x reader}

(i’m reposting this bc it wasn’t showing up in the tags and it was stressing me out) 

summary: you’d saved din djarin from himself before. now, with the pain of losing his kid, you’re about to do it all over again. (kinda based on find me here by hayley williams)

warnings: this is...flangst. fluff and angst. swearing. mentions of depression but it’s also a bit ✨positive✨

this is just me trying to be the emotional janitor to...that. i’ve tried to keep it as gender neutral as possible but some of the conversation might imply an afab reader but hopefully it’s vague to be completely objective!!

- jazz

anyways i know i already said it but !! spoilers !! spoilers !! spoilers !!

p.s spot the titanic reference 

Grogu was tiny but the whole he left in your lives was massive.

You always knew you were going to have to give him up - hell, that had been the job in the first place - but you hadn’t expected it to hurt so much. He wasn’t your kid but at the same he completely and entirely was. You’d never expected your first parenting experience to be with a tiny green Jedi but at the same time, you wouldn’t have had it any other way. The next few months were going to be hard; accepting that he wasn’t yours to keep and that he was in a better place was guaranteed to be a long process. It would be worth it in the end but the initial pain was bordering on unbearable.

Din was better at hiding it than you. Admittedly, he did have a thick beskar layer to shield his emotions and pain from the outside world but he couldn’t hide it from you; never from you. Even behind the metal, you could read him like a book. It was a product of spending every waking minute together (his overprotective doing, not yours) and in return, he had learnt every habit and every quirk of yours. He sometimes cursed your ability to read him, especially when it lead to you saying things like you did not just tilt your helmet at me like that, Din Djarin.

He’d been quieter in the days since Luke Skywalker had taken the kid - quieter than usual, at least. Din was already a pretty taciturn person; compared to how he was with other people, he practically spoke your ear off but since you’d landed back on Nevarro, he’d completely kept to himself. It was painful to watch, seeing him rise at the crack of dawn to take a bounty, only to return in the evening with a few more bruises than he’d had that morning. You wanted to say something to do something that would make him snap back to reality, but this was probably his grieving process and you had to respect that. Or, you had to at least try to.

That was, until, it felt like Din was killing both you and him; working himself to the point of exhaustion, barely sleeping and refusing to even acknowledge Greef or Cara. You could deal with him being angsty. You could deal with him grieving. You couldn’t, however, deal with him ignoring you. You had literally vowed to go through all your bad times together and Din Djarin was nothing if not a man of his word. He knew it. You knew it too - and you’d be damned if you’d let him forget it.

It was on a cold - at least by Nevarro standards - morning that you decided it was time to show him some tough love. The Mandalorian had decided to hole out on one of Karga’s old ships that morning, claiming that he wanted to fix it. You were no engineering genius, but given that the old jet’s wings had fallen off, you could see it was past the point of no return and that Din had just been looking for an excuse. He was good at that these days.

‘Din!’ You called. The bay doors were open, but the ship itself was dark and dusty. Tinkering, my ass. As expected, there was no reply. ‘Din! Don’t ignore me.’

Silence.

‘Please?’

You grumbled to yourself, walking further inside the dimly lit ship. Tiny specs of dust were floating in the streams of thin light, leading your path further and further towards the cockpit. Who ever it had belonged it, it pre-dated the Republic, let alone the Empire or new order. You tried to resist the urge to cough, instead choosing to focus on your mission: hunting down the Mandalorian. The tables really had turned, considering he was very rarely the prey.

‘I was talking to Karga.’ You continued - as far as you knew, you were talking to thin air, but you liked your chances. ‘He offered me a bounty puck for...Corellia, is it? For that big, bad guy we didn’t catch last year. You know the one that nearly killed me?’

There was a crash from the cockpit, and you grinned to yourself. It was a little unethical to scare the man out of hiding with your bullshit, but you were getting desperate.

‘I figured it would be good to get out a bit, try and distract myself, you know?’ You continued. ‘So I was gonna borrow a ship and head out there tomorrow-’

‘- like hell you’re doing that on your own.’  

A six foot mountain of beskar suddenly stepped out from the darkness. Normally, that would have been enough to scare anyone, but not you. You’d married that six foot mountain of beskar. That probably gave you more guts than anyone in the damn galaxy -- until they found out he wasn’t actually that terrifying. Not many people would have taken the Mandalorian seriously if they knew he enjoyed having his hair played with.

You held your hands up in the air, stretching out your fingers to show that there was no puck in sight.

‘You lied.’ Din grunted.

‘And you were ignoring me.’ You shot back. ‘’S going on?’

‘I told you. I was working on the ship-’

‘- nope.’ You cut him off. ‘Try again.’

‘Karga asked me to fix it-’

‘- Still no!’ You snapped. ‘We gonna go three for three or are you gonna finally pull your head out your ass and stop lying to me, Din?’

There wasn’t a single person in the galaxy who dared speak back to the Mandalorian - except you. That was what had made him fall for you in the first place. It was like you couldn’t even see the beskar. You’d always seen him as Din, and never as the Mandalorian, or a warrior. You’d made it clear from the day you met that you wouldn’t take any bullshit from anyone, him included, and he’d always respected that.

‘You have been holing yourself away for weeks.’ You continued. ‘I know it’s hard but you have to accept it. Grogu wasn’t ours to keep - he never was.’

Din didn’t response, instead dropping his gaze down to the floor.’

‘Hey.’ You put a finger at the base of the helmet, tilting his head back up to look at you. ‘Look at me. Talk to me.’

‘I miss him.’ He stated; short and blunt. Fitting, really. ‘And it hurts.’

‘I get that.’ You gently placed your hands on either side of his helmet, fingers splaying out over the cold metal. ‘But it’s better to hurt together. Can I?’

Din nodded, signalling that it was okay for you to take it off. You gently tugged at the helmet, momentarily breaking away from him to place it beside you. It was a relief to see his face after so many weeks of having the beskar between you; the soft brown eyes and slightly crooked smile that met you on the other side felt like home. You could have stared at him forever if the galaxy wasn’t so fucking demanding of your presence.

You’d spent far too long on the other side of the beskar, waiting for him to let you in. And now that you’d got him, now that you’d promised yourselves to one another forever? You weren’t going to let it happen again.

You gently pushed back a few tufts of brown hair, offering him a sad smile. ‘You know we made the right decision, yeah?’

He nodded, leaning into your touch as your hands carded through his hair. ‘I know.’

‘So you gotta stop beating yourself up, baby.’ You stressed. ‘Stop shutting people out - stop shutting me out. I know we don’t have the kid anymore but we are still a family.’

‘I lost the ship. I lost the kid.’ Din quietly spoke. ‘I’m just worried that-’

‘- I’m not going anywhere.’ You shook your head, knowing what he was going to say before the words even left his mouth. ‘Even if you paid me. You are stuck with me, okay? Cursed with me till the day I keel over and die.’

Finally, Din smiled. He looked you dead in the eye and he smiled, eyes creasing at the side as he peered down at you, eventually tightening his arms around your waist. He held your head to his chest, ungloved hand gently clutching you as he rested his chin on your hair. The first time he’d clung onto you like this had been after a rough mission; neither of you had been sure if he was going to make it back and when he did, the first thing he did was pull you into his arms and you stayed there for what felt like hours. That was when Din realised for the first time that he loved you - and now, after weeks of isolating himself and shutting you out, this didn’t feel completely different from that. It was just that this time, it was less of a realisation of more of a reminder.

‘I didn’t expect it to be this bad.’ Din quietly admitted.

‘I know.’ You whispered back, voice slightly muffled by his chest. ‘But pain is only temporary. Dark times pass and we’ll learn to look back on this and enjoy the memories. They won’t always be tainted.’

He’d been in a dark place when he’d met you. It was like he’d been treading water, waiting for the riptides to take him, to stake their claim and remind him of his mortality, to remind him that not even the bravest people can forfeit their ability to hurt. He tried. Maker, he had tried. The icy and emotionless impression he gave to strangers wasn’t an accident. It was a survival mechanism; a defense mechanism. One that you’d chosen to ignore. You’d saved him in every way a person could be saved.

Just as the waves were pulling him under, you’d dragged him out; dragged him to the shore and reminded him that pain was merely part of being human. Most importantly, you’d called his attention to the fact that no matter how much beskar he wore or how impenetrable he acted, that he couldn’t avoid being one. He could run away from bounty hunters and Imperials and the thousands of enemies he’d made but the fact of mortality was always hot on his tail.

Now, you were pulling him up for air all over again.

Eventually, pain stopped being a reminder of his humanity and instead, it was replaced by his love for you. His ability to feel things for you. You’d saved him then and now, you were helping him come up for air all over again. Being human didn’t always mean to hurt - it could just as much mean to love.

‘I’ve got you, okay?’ You tightened your grip on him, eyes meeting his. ‘Whatever you need.’

‘You.’ Din replied. ‘I need you. That’s all.’

a/n: ok i realised i published an identical but slightly different imagine to this in october but...clearly i have a type and that type is imagines where the mandalorian confesses that you’re the only thing he needs because i eat that shit up. consume it whole. i am telling you. i have no regrets. my content might is predictable but HELL at least u can rely on something in these wild times❤️

[battybatzgirl]

Hey Mr. Sandman, You Missed a Spot

AO3

Summary: 

It's not that Hunter doesn't ever sleep, Eda's come to realize. It was that he falls asleep sporadically, most of the time in really weird places.

Or: 5 times Eda catches Hunter taking a nap

Part 1 of the Finders Keepers Series

---

Here’s the thing about Eda: she loves naps. Eda likes to be cozy, so usually, that equated to curling up under a blanket, lazing around, and falling asleep. The Owl Beast shared that sentiment, the creature that lived within her constantly wanting to nest. Those animalistic instincts were weird, but when you lived in a house with a demon who also liked to bury himself under a pile of stuffed animals, you kind of got used to it.

Here’s the thing about Hunter: he doesn’t sleep.

The kid has been living with them for only about two weeks, officially replacing Eda as Public Enemy Numero Uno in the eyes of the Emperor. When he’d showed up on Hooty’s doorstep, all bloody and barely conscious, Eda thought it was some kind of cosmic trick. The Powers That Be had to be pulling her leg because this was the second time the leader of the Emperor’s Coven had shown up to the Owl House with nowhere else to go.

Luz had been ecstatic to welcome him in, apparently excited to finally fulfill her dreams of becoming a middle child in their weird little found family. King was less thrilled, but eventually warmed up to the idea of Hunter staying with them as long as he taught King his secrets on how to command an army.

Hunter himself even seemed unnerved at the thought of living with them. He tried to leave a few times when he was still wounded, but his little bird palisman (Rascal, she’s heard him say) effectively herded him back into the house by continuously dive-bombing him and nipping at his ears. And after Belos put out a wanted poster for the kid, making him the Isles’ number one most wanted traitor, leaving wasn’t really an option. Not if he wanted to stay alive.

So eventually, Hunter begrudgingly accepted that yeah, he lived in the Owl House now.

And alright, Eda isn’t heartless. The kid was lost, wounded, and an enemy of the Emperor. She can work with that.

Getting to know him has been a challenge, though. Hunter has a lot of weird quirks. He holds himself so seriously that Eda has a hard time remembering that he’s a teenager and not a fully grown middle-aged man. He hardly ever smiles. He’s jumpy, practically jolting out of his skin every time you walk into the same room. He’s clearly Going Through Some Shit, as Eda so eloquently calls it, remembering how Lily went through the same thing when she slowly broke free of Belos’s freaky subjugation.

But still. The kid doesn’t sleep.

Eda first notices it around day four of his residence. She’s up early to go to the market, stepping into the living room and nearly transforming into her Harpy Form out of pure shock when she sees a figure messing with her bookshelf in the back of the room. Wide maroon eyes lock on hers from across the room and she feels the feathers that sprung to her skin recede.

“Titan, kid,” she breaths, “You nearly killed me. What are you doing up? It’s Saturday, you should be sleeping in.”

“Um…I did sleep in,” Hunter responds, as if it’s obvious.

Eda feels a frown tug at her lips, “The sun isn’t even up yet.”

The kid just shrugs a little lamely, and Eda feels a twinge of concern in her chest. (And ugh, feeling concerned for a guy who dangled you over the Boiling Sea is certainly weird.) If this was sleeping in for him, he couldn’t have rested more than five hours.

She steps closer, taking a second look at what he’s doing. Half the books are spread out on the floor, the other half stacked neatly back on the shelves in some kind of order.

He notices her looking, “I, uh, took the liberty of reorganizing your bookshelf. Or organizing it, since it didn’t really seem to have a system.” The kid ducks his head, the tips of his ears flushing pink. “I- I can put it back the way it was if you want, or organize them in a different way.”

That’s another thing about Hunter: he always has to be doing something. Being useful. Without direction, he crumples. It was always, What do you want me to do now, Miss Clawthorne this and I completed this task, Miss Clawthorne, what’s next that. His brain operated on a transactional level—I do this thing for you, you do this thing for me. And since Eda was housing him, he felt like he had to constantly be doing things for her. Constantly proving himself worthy to be here, repaying her. Hunter couldn’t seem to wrap his head around that she didn’t want him to do anything except stay comfortable.

Eda has thought up a hundred different little tasks for him to do in just his first four days. She’s running out of odd jobs to give him, and if she has to keep telling him what to do she’s going to start pulling out her hair.

“You’re fine, kid,” she says. “Keep doin’ what you’re doin’ if it makes ya happy. But you shouldn’t be up this early. You should at least take a nap later.”

Hunter tilts his head. “But that wouldn’t be accomplishing anything.”

“You don’t hafta be working all the time,” Eda stresses. “It’s okay to sit around and just exist once and a while. Actually, I think that should be your priority. Take a nap, relax, go cloud watching, take a walk—any or all of the above.”

“That sounds like doing nothing.”

“That’s because it is doing nothing.”

His face hardens, taking on that soldier-like seriousness that encompasses his entire demeanor. “Being lazy can’t be a priority.”

“Don’t think of it like that, then,” Eda almost snaps, wishing for a nice hot mug of apple blood. It was too damn early to deal with the repercussions of Belos’s all-work-no-play mindset. “Think of it as acting your age. Did you ever get to take naps as a kid in the Emperor’s Coven? Is relaxing just a foreign concept to you?”

He doesn’t answer, staring at her with those bagged eyes and guarded expression, and Eda throws up her hands in defeat.

She leaves then, her patience running too thin to continue arguing with him. She doubts he’ll actually go back to sleep. He probably goes back to doing whatever he was doing with that bookshelf. Eda makes a mental note to tell King to knock all the books off, just so Hunter can reorganize it later. Just for something for him to keep him occupied.

1.

Eda doesn’t even notice the first time it happens. It was one of Luz’s friends, Gus, who pointed it out.

The kids were gathered at her home after school, spread out on the floor of the living room along with various pillows and blankets. Luz found some card game she knew buried somewhere in the piles of human trash Eda has laying around, and the girl has been spending the better part of an hour trying to explain how it works.

“So the Wild Card doesn’t make you turn into a wild animal?” Willow questions, holding up a black card with looks like a colorful pie chart on it.

“Nope!” Luz says cheerfully. “It just becomes any color you want it to be to go with the rest of your hand.”

“But the card doesn’t actually change color?” Amity asks.

“No, it only represents the color,” Luz clarifies, and Eda has to admit, her girl has a ton of patience. She’s been quietly watching from her place on the couch, half-listening to their conversation, half-reading the Isles’ latest edition of You Gossipy Witch, a tabloid where a writer is speculating about her true form. Apparently, some people think she was raised by feral, wild owls on some far away barrier island, and has come to reside in Bonesborough just because she ran out of mutant rats to eat.

Weird.

But entertaining!

Gus holds up one of his cards, “So are blank cards bad, or—"

King jumps over his shoulder, landing on the deck of cards in the middle of their little circle and making them fly everywhere. “I have taken dominion over ALL YOUR CARDS. All of you must grovel for a taste of my wealth!”

“Actually, the point of the game is to get rid of all your cards,” Luz reminds him gently. “That way, when you get down to one card, you shout Uno! And you win! If no one else makes you draw anymore, that is.”

King deflates a little, apparently put off by the idea of less is more. “Oh.” Luz smiles and pats him on the head, and he brightens up. “Okay, let’s play, because I wanna make all of you draw as many cards as possible! You'll drown in your cards! Choke on them, even!”

As they start gathering up the cards that King threw everywhere, Gus lets out a little gasp. “You guys—is Hunter asleep?”

That immediately draws Eda’s attention away from the magazine. Her eyes flicker to the blond witch, laying on his stomach just on the edge of their group. He was still having a hard time socializing, especially with Amity, but Luz was determined to include him in all friendship activities. She said wanted to teach him how to be a kid, and hell, if anyone could knock some seriousness out of that boy it would be Luz.

Hunter is indeed asleep—his face is mushed into the forearms pillowed under his head, and his red palisman has weaseled its way to nestle in between the crook of his elbow. His breath comes out in soft little sighs, and Eda feels something in her melt.

“Awwww, he looks so peaceful,” Luz croons, mushing her palms against her cheeks. Amity’s already scooched past her, snapping photos on her scroll. Eda can’t blame her. She knows a good blackmail opportunity when she sees one.

Eda’s off the couch and catches King mid-pounce. “Whoa there, none of that buddy.”

“But Edaaaa,” the demon whines, his little arms and legs flailing in mid-air. “I have to conquer him when he least expects it!”

“Ehhh, let the kid sleep. Save your conquests for when he’s awake and can put up a fight.” Eda sets him down in his place in the circle, and the kids all glance at each other before turning back to the cards.

She notices that they’re more mindful to keep their tones softer, probably to not disturb the sleeping boy. And when Hunter wakes himself up about half an hour later, they don’t mention it, seamlessly integrating him back into their game.

2.

The second time it happens, Raine is walking Eda home. It’s early in the evening, and the pair just got done with a fabulous date—a picnic with apple blood and sweet (and stolen) baked goods? Titan, take Eda now, she’s found her perfect match.

She’s still riding that high, not noticing Raine stopping until they tug on their clasped hands. “Hey, who’s that? Is he okay?”

Eda follows where they’re pointing their finger. It’s Hunter, slumped against the base of an oak tree, fast asleep. His chin is tipped forward and a book open on his chest, and even more strangely, there’s a small pile of leaves on his lap.

“Oh, that’s just my—” Eda stops herself, the word catching in her throat. Hunter was a child in her care, yes, but he wasn’t quite her kid. Not like Luz or King. The blond witch was still too jumpy, baring his teeth and snarling at anything that tried to get close to him.

He calls her Miss Clawthorne, for Titan’s sake.

“—Hunter,” Eda finishes lamely.

Raine raises an eyebrow. “Your Hunter?”

“He’s uhhh, one of Luz’s friends who just so happens to be living with us. Not a big thing.”

Raine shoots her a deadpan look but strides forward anyway, kneeling next to the sleeping blond. They keep their voice to a low murmur, “Should we wake him? That can’t be comfortable for his neck. He’ll probably be sore later.”

“Eh, let him rest. This is more sleep than he usually gets.” Eda steps closer, kneeling down on his other side. It’s the side that has his scar, the slightly raised red tissue standing out even more so than usual now that he wasn’t constantly moving. She’s almost asked him how he got it, but he’s clearly sensitive about the subject. She’s seen the similar marks on his arms, and something tells her there are a whole lot more scars that he’s hiding.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out who gave them to him.

Still, it’s hard to ignore just how young he looks. When he’s stripped of all of his snappy comebacks, quick defenses, and that guarded demeanor Belos forced onto him, he’s reduced to exactly what he should be:

A kid.

“Oh!” Raine startles in surprise. Eda looks up to see the cardinal palisman fluttering down from above them, carrying a few leaves in its beak. It hops down onto Hunter’s lap and deposits the leaves in the little growing pile on his leg.

A smile worms its way onto Eda’s face. She runs a finger across the little bird’s head, “Trying to keep him warm, huh?” The bird lets out a trilling note of confirmation. She lets the bird be, turning back to Raine, “I think Rascal’s got this covered. If he hasn’t come in before nightfall I’ll come out and get ‘em.”

The bard casts one last glance down at the sleeping boy before they stand. “Y’know, he kind of reminds me of someone.”

“Oh yeah?” Eda weaves her arm through Raine’s as the pair reassumes their walk.

“Yeah,” Raine hums. “He kind of has the same build as someone I met when I was held hostage in the Emperor’s palace. The Golden Guard. Did you hear that he ran away from the palace? There've been rumors that the Emperor himself is tearing apart the Right Arm looking for him.”

“Uh, about that...”

Raine stops, turning to look at her square in the face. Eda gives them a sheepish, toothy grin.

“Oh my god,” Raine says. “You adopted the Golden Guard?”

“Hey now, adopted is a very strong word—”

The bard cuts her off with a delighted laugh. “How am I not surprised?” Eda feels heat rise to her face, but can’t help but return Raine’s infectious smile. “Only you, Eda. Only you.”

3.

The third time it happens, Eda’s passing through the upstairs hallway, intent on curling up into her nest for an afternoon nap of her own. She hears a shuffling noise as she passes by the glorified storage closet that they gave Hunter as a room, and can’t resist a peek inside.

What she finds is definitely…not what she was expecting. Hunter is laying flat on his back on the floor, his feet elevated on the little cot they’d given him. Yeesh, that couldn’t be comfortable. Soft snores woosh past his open lips, his face turned toward a crystal ball that’s playing some cartoon he must have been watching before he fell asleep.

His body is nearly covered in stuffed animals.

“King,” Eda hisses. The horned perpetrator is in the middle of dumping his entire army onto the blond witch’s chest, pinning down his arms with plushies. “What did I tell you about burying people alive?”

The demon pauses from where he’s been slowly arranging his army over Hunter’s sleeping form. “He’s got plenty of room to breathe! I didn’t cover his face,” King protests. “Can’t subjugate someone who’s dead.”

“No subjugating—” your brother, she almost says, “—Hunter.”

King squints at her, but then grumbles and starts slowly taking the stuffed animals off the boy’s body. Crisis averted, Eda slips back out into the hall, mind swirling. That was the second time she’d almost referred to Hunter as hers in passing. The feeling is too raw to speak out loud yet, but there’s a growing warmth in her as she watches Hunter acclimate to his surroundings in the Owl House. With every day that goes by, he’s more comfortable around her, around Luz and King and Hooty, and he’s starting to come out of his shell. He’s growing softer, less quick to snarl, becoming more Hunter and less Golden Guard.

Unconsciously, Eda’s started viewing him as part of their little family. Two weeks ago, that thought would have made her uncomfortable. Now, she welcomes it with open arms.

Ugh, she’s getting so soft.

4.

The fourth time it happens is when Eda’s flying home from visiting Lilith. She’s only been gone for the day, and is hoping that leaving Luz in charge hasn’t led to any freak fires, the resurrection of the dead, or other various natural disasters. Unfortunately, even her most responsible kid is pretty reckless, so Eda’s expectations are set pretty low.

It’s probably sometime around 2 a.m. when she makes it home sweet home. She swoops in close, intent on landing on the front door but stilling mid-air when she sees something on the roof of the tower. Even from up here, it’s not hard to distinguish the form of a looming body.

Eda’s heart leaps into her throat and she takes Owlbert down into a dive. Her body is tense when she lands, her staff already aimed toward the person lurking by the edge of the roof. “Alright listen bucko, you better step back or—wait.” She sees what looks like a lump of feathers sitting on top of the person’s head, and Eda squints in the darkness. She quickly pulls out a light glyph, sending the tiny ball of sun forward.

“Hunter?!” Eda’s tense posture relaxes. The kid doesn’t answer, and it takes her a beat to figure out why. He’s dead asleep, slumped precariously over the telescope they use for stargazing. Eda has no idea how he’s even standing at all. Kid probably had a ton of practice of falling asleep on his feet during long, boring meetings with the Emperor.

“Wakey, wakey.” She places her hand on his shoulder, gently, but he wakes up with a full-body jerk, startling the palisman on top of his head. The cardinal chirps once in irritation, fluttering to rest on Eda’s shoulder instead.

Hunter’s eyes are wild for a moment until he seems to register where he is and who he’s with. He relaxes then, letting out a yawn so huge it would put any lion to shame. “…Eda?”

“The one and only,” Eda says, ignoring how her heart squeezes at the kid finally calling her by her name. “Wanna tell me why you’re up here in the middle of the night?”

“Waitin’ for you,” he mumbles, voice rough with sleep. His eyelids drop and he sways dangerously on his feet. “Wanted to… t’make sure y’got home safe.”

The warmth in her chest expands and eclipses her entire body in that fuzzy feeling she gets whenever one of her kids does something particularly adorable. Thank Titan it’s dark and Hunter is too out of it to notice the smile that spreads across her face. If he was fully awake, Eda gets the feeling that A) he probably never would have admitted that he was worried about her, and B) would have snapped at her for smiling at him like that. “Well, I’m home now, so let’s get you to bed before you topple over.”

Eda wraps her arm around his waist and nudges him along, practically carrying him back downstairs, their palismen following close behind. She doesn’t mind. Someone had to make sure he didn’t fall off the roof.

“Night, kid,” she says, tucking him under the blankets on his cot. Hunter doesn’t respond, already having slipped back into unconsciousness. And if she brushes his bangs tenderly out of his face, no one ever has to be the wiser.

5.

The fifth time it happens, Eda’s gotten used to it. It's not that Hunter doesn’t sleep, she’s come to realize. He just falls asleep in weird places. Why, she has no idea, but honestly, the kid looked so tired all the time, she wasn’t going to question it. They had bigger things to worry about.

The Day of Unity is just around the corner, and Belos has become more irritating than ever.

Eda hadn’t even thought that was possible for him, but apparently, it was. The scouts around Bonesborough have tripled, their captains leading more and more raids, butting into shops to check everyone’s papers, and invading random districts.

Oddly, Belos’s priorities seem to have shifted. He’s still sending out grunts to round up any wild witches, but the guards have been playing a weird sort of hide-and-seek, going beyond just patrolling the marketplaces to actually tearing into people’s homes. From what she’s heard, the guards never take anything, just searching the place top-to-bottom before leaving empty-handed and moving on to the next house.

Belos was looking for something.

And unfortunately, Eda’s got a pretty good idea of what he’s after.

Said thing just so happens to be slumped across from her at the kitchen table, dead to the world. It’s late into the night, and most of the kids have already gone to sleep. Too on edge to lie down, Eda’s been keeping herself busy by concocting more potions while the late-night news plays on her crystal ball in the background.

Hunter, striving to be helpful, volunteered to stay up and help.

It wasn’t long before the kid slowly started to nod off, face supported by his palm as his eyelids started to droop. He’d been in the middle of mixing two ingredients—highly flammable ingredients, mind you—and Eda plucked the vials out of his lax grip just in time. Honestly, it was a miracle the kid never killed himself in the Emperor’s Coven with how randomly he falls asleep.

He probably never got the chance to sleep at all, a voice reminds her. She remembers how dead-exhausted Lily was during her first few days at the Owl House. It was probably safe to assume that the Emperor had a habit of running the head of his Coven into the ground.

Hunter has been picking up on Belos’s tightening grip, too. He’s been getting quieter, more reserved. He’s come to the same conclusion that Eda has: the Emperor was tearing apart the whole of the Isles to get him back.

Why, though, is anyone’s guess. Hunter has long since explained that his uncle always said that the Titan had big plans for him, and it probably has something to do with the Day of Unity, but beyond that, the Emperor had always kept him in the dark. Luz has a crazy theory involving clones and blood magic, but that sounds like it’s a plot point straight out of one of her Azura books. King thinks Belos wants his artificial staff back, and Hooty predicts the Emperor is just sad because all his Coven leaders are leaving him to join Hooty’s superior best friends club.

Whatever the reason, Eda’s made it pretty clear that she’s not gonna bend to Belos’s intimidation tactics and turn him over. That smarmy gold jerk could set the whole Isles on fire and Eda still wouldn’t hand him over. Hunter’s part of the Bad Girl’s Coven now, and Belos can just suck it. And she’s not afraid to say that to his stupid face, either.

So when the cauldron at the end of the table that holds the scrying potion suddenly begins bubbling on its own, Eda may very well get her chance.

She’s up on her feet in an instant, dashing to the other end of the table just as the steam rising off the potion begins to warp into a familiar figure.

“Edalyn,” Belos greets, his voice sharp like a dagger. “I do hope I’m not interrupting your evening, but I needed a word with you.”

Ugh, scrying potions weren’t supposed to work both ways! Belos was too damn powerful. He could probably peer into their lives as much as they could peer into his.

“Sorry, but now’s a bad time,” Eda shoots back. “Why don’t you hang up and call back literally never?”

“It’s come to my attention that you have something of mine,” the masked man continues smoothly as if she hadn’t spoken. “I’d ever so appreciate it if you gave it back.”

Eda’s lip curls back, feeling the itch of feathers poking out of her joints. She wants to shift into her harpy form and leap through the potion to claw out his eyes. “Sorry, Belos,” she says, dripping smug bravado, “We wild witches operate solely under the laws of finders keepers. Your kid? Mine now.”

Eda expects that the Emperor would very much like to vaporize her. “Make your threats wisely, Owl Lady. You have no idea what you’re up against. Everything will be easier for you and your little friends if you just hand the boy back over to me.”

“Fat chance.” Eda throws back her shoulders and shoots him a sharp grin. “Sounds to me like you’re threatening one of my kids, and we weirdos stick together. Going after one of us is basically asking for all of us to bring you down. Remember how well that went last time? How my human cracked your mask and publicly humiliated you during your big let’s-turn-Eda-to-stone ceremony?”

The Emperor looks as though he has some choice words to say, but Eda doesn’t care. Hunter is her kid now. She glowers at him through that mist, voice lowering in with deadly promise. “You’ll have to drag him back to your Coven over my dead body.”

“That can be arranged,” sneers Belos.

“Try me, antler boy.” Then Eda whacks the cauldron and sends it tipping over the edge of the table. The connection is immediately severed as the potion goes splattering over the hardwood, and the resounding CLANG of the bowl makes Hunter shoot violently out of sleep.

“Huh?! Whassit—Eda? What happened? Are you alright?”

“Fine, kid,” she says, swallowing down the rage that’s still bubbling hot in her throat. “’S alright, just got a little clumsy and knocked over a cauldron. Sorry for waking you.”

“Sorry for falling asleep,” Hunter responds. He grabs a towel and hurries to clean up the oozing purple goo.

Eda waves him off, “Eh, I don’t mind. You kids need your rest. Growing bodies and all that.”

Hunter still hesitates, looking at her for a beat too long as if double-checking to make sure she wasn’t really upset. Eda holds back a sigh, a twinge of pity flickering through her that he’d even have to look at her like that in the first place. All the damage from Belos couldn’t be wrapped up in a month, she supposed.

She snatches up the cauldron, still dripping with the ruined potion. Peachy. She’ll have to call Lilith to get her scrying potion recipe. Though maybe not having this in the house was a good idea. Eda doesn’t want to risk His Royal Highness dropping in on any more unexpected house calls.

“Eda?”

She looks up at Hunter. The kid chewing on his bottom lip, wringing the half-soiled towel between scarred hands.

“I just…I wanted to say thank you,” Hunter says shyly. “I know having me here hasn’t exactly been easy—not only because of the fugitive thing, but because I’m…” He flounders for a moment, and Eda can only pretend to know what’s going through his mind right now. “…me,” he finishes finally. “You’ve been so kind and patient with me, it’s so much more than I deserve, and no matter what happens next—”

“Hey, no.” Eda cuts him off with a swift and gentle beratement. She sets the cauldron on the table and crowds closer to him, curling one hand around his cheek. The kid automatically leans into the touch, and Eda can’t help but wonder how Belos could have ever hurt a child who was as sweet as this one.

“You may be one bratty little shit, but you’re my bratty little shit. And Mama says you deserve all the smothering that comes with being a child of the Owl Lady.”

Then, to prove her point, she swoops down and quickly places feather-light kisses on the tip of his nose, forehead, and his scar, until Hunter squawks and shoves her away. He’s practically glowing, flushed all the way to the tips of his ears.

“Gross,” he snaps, rubbing furiously at his face. “I’m never helping you with your potions ever again.”

“I’ll accept your terms. Now get upstairs, it’s way past your bedtime.”

“I don’t have a bedtime, I’m not a baby.” Hunter sticks out his tongue but obeys, slipping out of the kitchen and disappearing into the rest of the house. Eda shakes her head as she watches him go.

Kids. What could ya do with ‘em?

[imaginethoseguys]

Liquid Courage

Hi, I need to submit a seminar paper in 10 days so naturally I wrote this 3k+ fic for Itadori Yuji girl, bye

Pairing: Itadori Yuji x fem!S/O Word count: 3.3k Warnings: fluff, drinking, drunk confessions, slight angst, au motifs Summary: No matter the chosen activity, Yuji would be equally excited to simply spend time with her. He didn’t even need her to reciprocate his feelings. He felt comfortable in his lovable bubbly state, and she most likely loved him as a friend, so all was well. Trying to take things further would be a risky move anyway and he would not dare take his chances at the expense of making things worse between them because the last thing he would ever want is to make her upset or uncomfortable. He still remembered all her stories about friendships she inescapably lost after the “I need to tell you something” texts in the middle of the night from guys who she felt comfortable enough to be herself with.

Yup, no way that was happening. a/n: Itadori's in his 20s (as well as s/o)

gif credit

It wasn’t Yuji who offered to spend the Friday night at a bar. He didn’t enjoy drinking that much, and there was some weird old movie at the local theatre that they could watch and make fun of together. But it was an unusual occasion, they were on a week-long mission, dealing with curse activity in Osaka, and, well, it was  her  who asked, so of course he agreed. He never went against her suggestions, he trusted her fully, maybe even too much. Possibly, it was her way with words. Somehow, she knew exactly what to say in situations where Yuji often found himself at loss for words. She was reliable and reassuring and had a certain kind of warmness to her.

Or, possibly, it was Yuji’s six-years-long crush on her that had him blushing and hyperventilating at anything she did, so opinions were divided on this one.

No matter the chosen activity, Yuji would be equally excited to simply spend time with her. He didn’t even need her to reciprocate his feelings. He felt comfortable in his lovable bubbly state, and she most likely loved him as a friend, so all was well. Trying to take things further would be a risky move anyway and he would not dare take his chances at the expense of making things worse between them because the last thing he would ever want is to make her upset or uncomfortable. He still remembered all her stories about friendships she inescapably lost after the “I need to tell you something” texts in the middle of the night from guys with who she felt comfortable enough to be herself. Yup, no way that was happening.

“Oh, look, they have homemade plum wine!” her exclamation brought Yuji’s attention back to reality. “And it’s in pitchers too. Lucky!”

“You do remember you can’t hold your liquor, right?” he said, propping his face on his right hand while watching her mumble giddily “plum wine and soda, plum wine and soda.” She lowered the laminated menu sheet and leveled him with an annoyed gaze.

“I am a grown young woman who earns a living by exorcising curses, I’m pretty sure I can handle a glass or two,  Yuji .”

“Including that time when you threw up on Fushiguro mid-conversation?”

“That was graduation! And we did shots.”

“Yeah, it was also 7pm.”

“Enough of you, mister.” She threateningly pointed a finger at him and turned around to call the waiter. Receiving an acknowledging nod in return, she turned back. “Besides, if we’re talking about you, everyone is terrible at holding their liquor in comparison.”

“I’m just heavyweight.” He shrugged his shoulders.

“You’re just a beast machine who suppressed the King of Curses and can run 50 meters in 3 seconds,” she shook her head at her own description, “no wonder you’re Special Grade. Why do you bother drinking at all? Pretty sure it does nothing to you.”

“I don’t do it on my own. I like the company.” He said timidly.

“Aw, see? This is why I love you.”

Yuji’s eyes widened unintentionally, but she didn’t look at him long enough to see it, her attention swiftly taken away by an approaching waiter. He assured himself he was better at controlling his feelings, but it was all falling apart now, like a bunch of lies, because he could feel his entire face and ears pulsate from heat. He stared at the way her lips moved, making the order.

as a friend as a friend as a friend as a friend as a friend

“Yuji? Yuji!”

He snapped back, looking even more surprised.

“You wanted the Ginjo-Shu, right?”

His gaze lingered on her face, open and bright, with eyebrows slightly raised.

“Yeah.”

This is fine.

* * *

“Ah, see? This is exactly what I was talking about.”

Yuji furrowed his eyes helplessly and took the glass from her hand. She tried to down her drink in one motion but missed and spilled it over herself. Looking back now, he wasn’t sure if it was her being lightweight or her not stopping in time.

“When did that even happen,” he mumbled to himself, “she was fine a minute ago.”

“Don’t talk about me like I’m not here,” she moaned in drunk annoyance, “because I  am  here.”

“So it seems,” Yuji smiled.

“And I may be many things, but there’s one thing that I am not, and it is deaf. Or stupid.”

“Yup, that’s two things though.”

She sighed loudly and leaned back on the wooden wall of their booth. They were surrounded by soft mixes of white noise: distant frying and sizzling from the kitchen, clinking of glasses, and giddy discussions of the upcoming weekend. They could almost feel like they belonged here, to the normal crowd of Osaka drinking their weekly stresses away, complaining about their bosses, bills, and personal dramas.

Is that what it’s like to be normal?  Both of them thought.

Yuji looked over at her and felt the heat returning to his cheeks. This drink spill felt too deliberate to be accidental. And her bra was very thin, and the bar’s AC was on and—

Yuji groaned and swiftly took his hoodie off, almost throwing it in her direction.

“Wear this, please.”

She didn’t really fight it and slowly put it over her head, beginning to crawl inside. She stopped somewhere in the middle and breathed in.

Ah, it smells so good. Smells like him.

She pressed the fabric into her face, taking in his scent. When did he manage to put on cologne? That’s just unfair.

“You okay in there? Are you stuck?” Yuji looked questionably at the wrinkly bundle that was now his hoodie with her somewhere inside.

“Listen, Yuji.”

“You’re just gonna talk to me like this, huh?”

“I’m sorry,” she murmured in a soft voice. “I know this isn’t how you would spend your night, but—I wanted to—you know. But in the end, I just—and—”

Suddenly, she felt a gentle tug, and her head popped out of the hoodie, revealing Yuji’s face lightened by a warm smile.

“I told you, I like the company.”

There was a needle prick somewhere around her heart, and she pressed her lips together, taken by a sudden wave of sadness.

“Let’s get back, yeah?”

* * *

Their hotel wasn’t far from the bar, but due to her condition, the walk back took longer than usual. Summer was ending, the air was still warm, but there was a tingling coldness with each wind blow,  a careful reminder of the approaching grey sky and smell of wet concrete, covered by tired leaves.

The path to the hotel entrance was hidden among the sleeping quarters, illuminated by floor lights, and framed by tall bamboo sticks. Yuji walked first and was right in front of the automatic sliding doors when he stopped and turned around to check on her. Instead of right behind him, he saw her at the beginning of the entrance path with her head down.

“Hm? Are you okay? Wait, are you sick?? Then stay right there, if you wanna throw up, do it—um—” he swiftly looked around. Seeing a gardening pot near one of the doors across the street, he pointed at it. “Here, maybe in this pot? Wait, no, this is a nice neighborhood, imagine waking up and finding vomit in your plants… ah, maybe in this bamboo? I’m not sure if it’s real though… ah, but this hotel allows hosting of jujutsu sorcerers because the owner is a friend of someone from the higher-ups, and if we vomit here—"

“Yuji.”

“Oh, maybe vomit in my t-shirt? And I’ll carry it to the nearest dumpster? No, that’s a horrible idea. Are you sure you can’t hold it until we get to our room? Then—”

“I’m not sick, Yuji!” she said loudly, maybe even too much so. “Although all this vomit talk is grossing me out.”

Yuji raised his eyebrows. “Then what’s wrong? Wait, did drinking uncover your hidden phobia of hotels? I read that somewhere…”

She smiled sadly. “You’re such an idiot.”

He bared his teeth, clearly offended. “Well, I’m sorry for trying to be helpful! Jeez, if you can’t walk – just say so, I’ll carry you to our room.”

“I don’t want to go to our room!” she yelled again. Yuji’s eyes widened in surprise, but he didn’t say anything.

“Because then we go to sleep, come back to Tokyo and—I—” She squeezed the hem of his hoodie, “and I’ll never get another chance.”

There’s a short silence after her outburst. Yuji glanced over her hands that were clenched in fists and looked to the side.

“I mean, it’s not like this is our only chance to visit Osaka, we can always book a vacation and come back here.”

“Huh? Who cares about Osaka? It's—”

“I’m not very smart,” he interrupted her quietly, “so you’ll need to be straight with me, otherwise I won’t understand what you mean.” Then, his voice got even quieter. “Or I’ll start imagining things that aren’t real.”

“Yuji, I—” she tried to speak fast, because she felt a betraying lump in her throat, “I never wanted to drag you into a bar. There was this old movie at the local theatre that we could have watched, but I—If I didn’t drink, I would have never gotten the strength to say the things that I’ve been meaning to say for a long-long time. And this trip felt like a perfect opportunity, and you’re right, I’m a lightweight and I overdid it, and I was so close to saying it, but I thought—I cherish you so, so much , Yuji, it hurts me to even think about it. I tried to tell you before, after graduation, but you distanced yourself from me that night, so I figured it was a bad idea. I still think it is, but I—Yuji, I—”

Yuji shortened the distance between them with a desperately fast sprint and grabbed her with both of his hands, squeezing her so tight that she could barely talk anymore, her face pressed into his chest. He was silent for a bit.

“I distanced myself from you during the graduation night because you looked so vulnerable. I thought you were doing things you would regret the next day, so I didn’t want to take advantage. Because when you’re like this with me, I,” his hands trembled, “It’s so hard for me not to be selfish.”

“Wait, Yuji,” she tried to move away from him, but no matter how hard she pushed, she would never win Yuji in a battle of strength. “Please, let me finish.”

“No,” he sounded uncharacteristically serious. He lowered his head and pressed his cheek to her forehead. “When you say that this is not the way I would spend my night… You can invite me to dumpster dive or read books about molecular physics in a public library, or lick poles in winter, and I’ll choose it over anything else. When I found out we would go on this mission together, I was so happy. I can be doing the grossest, most stupid, and pointless things, but if I’m with you – it would be the best way to spend all the time I have. I hate being alone, and it's all I ever felt for so many years of life. But when I met you—when I’m with you – I feel so warm. You make me forget about the bad stuff. When you’re next to me, I—I feel wanted. So please,” his hands weakened his grab on her frame, letting her lean back and catch a glimpse of his face. “Please, don’t give me false hopes.”

Their breaths were hot and shaky as they looked each other in the eyes, hypnotised by each other’s presence. She cautiously moved closer to him and cupped his cheeks. Yuji swallowed thickly, he had to stop himself, but her hand was soft and warm, and the number of times he dreamt about this exact moment didn’t let him move an inch of his body. She raised herself on her tiptoes and leaned to his lips. She smelled so sweet, and her body was so close to his that—

“Ghh, stop,” Yuji groaned and pressed his forehead to hers in agony.

“Why?” She asked breathlessly, “you don’t want this?”

“ No ! I mean, yes. God, I want this so much my head could explode, b-but,” he leaned back slightly, revealing his glowing red face, from the neck to the tips of his ears. “You’re drunk, and we’re tired and I,” he rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. “I want this to be right. If you wake up tomorrow and don’t remember any of this, I—”

“Stop talking,” she moaned and pulled him back by the fabric of his t-shirt, crushing her lips into his, arms then moving up to snake around his neck. Yuji had to resist. He had to, but when she touched him like this, the taste of plum on her lips, and when her—

“Mhm,” Yuji groaned hopelessly, feeling her tongue explore the insides of his mouth. It was hot and wet, and he felt like his heart could stop. Suddenly, he was so putty in her hands, he would do anything for her to keep touching and kissing him like this. No, for her to do anything she wanted with him. He would make a pact with a curse and sell his soul to stay like this a little longer, or to never feel the need to breathe again, so her lips can remain sealed with his forever. Still desperate for air, however, he forced himself to pull away, a shining string of saliva stretching between their lips.

She breathed in, preparing to talk. “I—”

“No, please, don’t say it.” He pressed their foreheads together again, breathing heavily. “Allow me to be selfish. I—I want you to say it tomorrow, in the morning. So that—”

“—It’s real?” she finished for him.

“Yeah,” he smiled bashfully, looking into her eyes. He could see himself in the glassy reflection of her eyes. They were bright and kind, and they looked at him the way he never thought would ever happen. He never thought he would be close enough to her to have the chance of examining just how deep and gentle they are.

Yuji moved a hair strand away from her face. “C’mon, I’ll carry you.”

He lifted her in one motion and pressed firmly to his chest. She could hear the rapid pounding in his chest, and it made her heart race after it. Pressing her ear closer, she could almost hear his thoughts. She didn't really need to hear them, she got the general idea from how uneven were his breaths and how his fingers trembled around her form.

While they waited for the elevator inside, she looked at him.

“Can I keep kissing you?”

His face heated up for a hundredth time this night, as he diverted his gaze nervously. She could feel his hands now squeezing her a little tighter.

“Y-yeah. I would like that.”

* * *

Yuji did not know that pain can bring such an amount of happiness with it. There were two single beds in their room, but they ended up sharing one of them together, which resulted in soreness and numbness in different parts of Yuji’s body. His back ached from arching it so that he didn't fall, and he couldn’t feel his right arm anymore because he went to bed while hugging her. Not that he was complaining though. He could go to sleep on hot coals for all he cared if that meant she would lie on top of him. Feeling her body next to his sent vibrations down his spine. Suddenly, he heard her groan, and his heart fastened its pace.

Nanami Kento was right when he said that getting old is manifested in small things. One of them was getting morning sickness and headaches from any amount of drinking, moderate or otherwise. She hid her face in both of her palms and turned to the side, trying to hide from the morning sun. Sliding the palms down to her chest, she was met with Yuji’s glowing but anxious face: his hair was a mess, and there was a big imprint on his right cheek from the pillow wrinkles. She smiled softly, reaching out to fix one of his hair strands.

“Hi,” she rasped.

“Hi,” he responded, sounding relieved.

“Remind me to never drink again,” she said, turning on her back tiredly. “I lose years of my life from each hangover.”

“I mean, it’s exactly what I’m doing each time, but the strategy doesn’t seem to be working.” He chuckled, slowly getting up from the bed. “I’ll bring you an aspirin.”

Her eyes traced his features radiating in the morning sun as he made his way to the coffee table across the room. He had plenty of scars across his back and more on the chest. None of Jujutsu High students got anything close to normal school life, but Yuji certainly took the cake. And to remain so gratuitously giving and caring all while dealing with so much burden and pressure—her heart sank from just the thought.

She sat up as Yuji sat in front of her on the side of the bed, giving her a glass of fizzling water. She smiled in gratification and brought it to her lips.

“By the way, can you tell me what we ended up doing yesterday? I don’t remember shit,” she said nonchalantly before starting to gulp down the medicine.

The look on Yuji’s face filled with terror and chagrin; he felt his fingertips grow colder as he grasped the bedsheets beneath his hands. He lowered his gaze in silence, feeling the heartbeat pounding in his ears.

Meanwhile, she downed the glass and put it on her nightstand. Looking back at him, she lifted the corners of her lips.

“Kidding.”

He let out a questioning yell and grabbed a pillow, aiming a blow. “You’re so mean! Never  ever  do that shit again!”

He threw the pillow into her face, and she laughed, grabbing his hand, and pulling him on top of her. Yuji positioned his hands on both sides of her head and felt the familiar heat run up his neck to his cheeks, nose, and ears.

“Sorry,” she whispered softly.

“I’ll think about it.”

She lifted her hands and palmed his face, looking deep into his amber eyes. Yuji swallowed thickly, both of his palms twitching uncontrollably.

“Yuji.”

“Y-yeah?”

“I love you.”

The warmness from her hands went deep beyond his face. He felt her arms reach out gently into his chest and cradle his heart, calming its frantic heartbeat and holding it with such care that it sent lumps to his throat. He fought back the quivering of his lips as her thumb stroked across the scar right beneath his eye.

“I love you so  so much,” she murmured fondly, squinting from her growing smile. Yuji lowered his body closer to hers and hid his face in the crook of her neck, hugging her from behind.

“If you don’t stop, I might die.”

“Why?”

“I shouldn’t… feel this happy.”

She closed her eyes contently and wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing a slow kiss to his temple. “Well, that’s not for you to decide, dumbass.”

She played with his messy hairs, breathing in his scent.

“But if you don’t reciprocate, I might die as well.”

Yuji rose sharply on his hands and leaned forward, crushing his lips into hers for a quick second.

“I love you,” he said loudly after breaking the kiss. Then he leaned in and kissed her again.

“I love you. I love you I love you I love you,” he kept repeating after kissing her over and over again. “I lov—” She interrupted him mid-sentence and took initiative, thrusting into his lips and parting them with a twirl of her tongue. He moaned and gave in, moving his head to the side.

Please, don’t leave me

I’m with you until the world collapses

[angxlyxn]

preservation - aesop x f. reader

summary: Aesop wants to make sure that you stay as his, forever.

warnings: death, reader dies, minor gore (blood), asphyxiation/choking, obsessive behavior, usage of a syringe, death by use of pancuronium bromide.

a/n: identity v is unfortunately my current brainrot, so please take this.  i’m actually pretty proud of this piece and i hope you enjoy it too!

word count: ~4.6k

When you had first arrived at the manor, you had been seen by many as strange.  An oddity if you will, a disturbance in the otherwise monotonous and flat life that the others led.  You had stood upon the steps of the mansion, clutching a leather case between your clammy hand and knocking definitively on the door.  The oaken frame was soon flung open by a vivacious girl, her brown hair falling in locks about her face and tangling around her chin with a sort of carelessness.  She had introduced herself to you as Emma, and you had given her a curt nod in return.  You mumbled out your name, mindlessly letting your eyes drift about the meticulous architecture of the manor in disinterest, the girl’s lively rambles buzzing about and filtering through your previously vacant ears.  She soon had led you into the warmth of the building, a creeping feeling overtaking you as she tugged you towards the dining hall, where she said the others were waiting.  Your hands tightened around your skirt pocket, where the letter that brought you to this place was secured.  It had promised a large sum of money for your participation in some sort of “game”, of which the details were not included.  You, however, blindly jumped at the opportunity.  Lack of a spouse and job had left you nearly homeless, and you had become tired of being a scavenger, tired of having your life depend on whether or not an inn had vacancies.  So, the idea of a huge cash prize was everything to you.  

You remembered clearly the moment when you had been pulled into the dining room and hurriedly introduced by an overly excited Emma, the sea of survivors greeting you with looks varying from boredom to contempt.  One person, however, stood out to you as they looked on with an expression of interest, cold grey eyes analyzing your features and brows drawing together in thought.  You returned his stare, not as a challenge but simply out of curiosity.  Upon realizing that you were looking at him as well, he turned away from you, gently tucking the hem of his mask further over his thin nose.

A peculiar one, Aesop was.  He never did grow less reticent during your time together, always staying serious and stone-faced, yet easy to fluster.  A few survivors took advantage of his frightful nature, but most were too afraid of the embalmer to even spare a glance in his direction.

Which, he supposes, is where his infatuation with you began.  You were like him, in a way.  Generally avoided by most, with the exception of a few more social survivors, such as Kevin and Emma.  Luca, it seemed, had also taken a liking to you, and often would drag you along to keep him company.  Those were the times that Aesop hated the most.  He never minded much when Kevin would flirt, or when Emma would insist on you helping her with her gardening, because he knew that these were just patterns of behavior, and nothing personal.  Luca, however, was hard to read.  He was extroverted, yet private, and tried as he did, Aesop was never able to figure him out.  His motives were too jumbled to understand, his words always far too fast and convoluted.  And the amount of attention you seemed to divert to the young inventor was more than enough to bring forth the feelings of jealousy and disdain that seemed to occupy Aesop whenever someone spoke of or interacted with you.  

Despite these odd feelings, Aesop was disgusted by you.  The living repulsed him, and you weren’t supposed to be an exception to this rule.  He would hold back a flinch each time that you would breathe, the motion of your chest rising filling him with contempt both for you and himself.  He hated that he was so attached to a living thing such as you.  

You would be so much better off dead.  So much prettier with your eyes permanently closed, the gentle flush that usually occupied your cheeks drawn out from your skin.  

He knew that he had to resist these temptations of seeing you lifeless.  Aesop was a calculated man, but he seemed to have much less control when it came to you.  So, he decided that it would do him well to attempt to act as one usually would, and for a time he tried to fit himself into the social structure of the manor, at least more so than he usually did.

He tried to grow closer to you as someone usually would.  The male would dedicate part of his day to attempting to be social with you, although this usually just meant that he would sit near you in the library or join you by the fireplace.  Little to no words were exchanged between the two of you, and yet, he could not have wished for anything more.  During the time he spent with you, he was able to observe, able to familiarize himself with your behavior, your quirks, and your patterns.  He found immense satisfaction in watching as your expression would change as you read, taking great joy in the way that your brows would cinch together every so often.  Not to mention your other more intimate expressions.  It almost felt orgasmic to the male whenever the most lithe of smiles would spread across your cheeks.  Sometimes he would grow flustered just thinking about the gentle curve of your lips, or the way your tongue would protrude slightly in an ever so innocent way when you would grace him with that kind smile of yours.

This was enough to keep him content for a long time, but at some point, that changed.  He grew bored of just watching you, and longed for more.  He wished to feel you against him, to feel your steady breaths reverberate against his ribs.  He wanted to experience the sensation of you quivering against him, wanted to caress and tug your hair, wanted to wrap his hands around your pretty little neck and squeeze until you were begging and gasping for air.  He wanted to make it so you were completely at his mercy.

Unable to refuse him.  

Helpless.

But still he continued watching you, without your knowledge, of course.  He familiarized himself with your schedule, and found that Tuesdays were the days you were most often matched, while Sundays you always kept to yourself, not even sparing a glance at other survivors unless it’s warranted.  

Sunday was Aesop’s favorite day.  Sunday meant that he could observe you without being bothered or eavesdropped on himself, it meant that he could watch over you in an environment where pests, such as the likes of Luca and Emma, weren’t constantly flitting about you.  

Today was a Sunday, and Aesop was planning something special for you.

A bundle of storm clouds had gathered atop the manor. Rain had already drenched the wooden exterior of the building, and was now continuously pelting against the many window panes.  The sound of the storm resounded through the manor in a way that was reminiscent of a hum.  You presently were sitting inside of your room, clothed in a silk nightdress that was gifted to you by Miss Nightingale.  You didn’t have many proper clothes upon your arrival at the manor, neither had most other of the participants.  The majority of your wardrobe was provided for you by the woman herself, whom you had never seen.  

The dress itself was rather comfortable, and draped nicely over your body.  It reached the floor, the ruffled trim on it brushing against your feet periodically.  You had laid yourself across your bed, pulling the blankets adorning it up to your chest and drawing the bed curtains closed.  A book sat beside you on your bedside table, and yet you couldn’t be bothered with reading it.  You were too occupied with watching the rain outside, memorizing the patterns of the water as it fell down and clambered against the manor.  

A knock at the door brought you out of your dazed state.  You waited for a voice to precede the sound, but nothing came, and so you rose from your bed, reluctantly moving out from under the bundle of blankets and grabbing a dressing robe from your armoire.  You pulled it on, walking tiredly towards the door with an unconcerned expression and grasping the brass handle, pulling the hatch open to reveal the delicate frame of a man before you.

Aesop stood outside of your doorway, grasping his embalming kit and standing stock still, as though someone had forced a pole up his back.  

“Mr. Carl..” You said, voice breathy and calm as you pulled your robe further over your exposed clavicle.  He offered a curt nod in return, acknowledging you with a blink.  You noticed how his hands were shaking, quivering around the handle of his kit as he stood in front of you, his fingers obviously clamming up.  Perhaps he was nervous?  “Do you need something?”

He looked up at you with a frightened expression, and you were worried that you had said the wrong thing.  He looked back down, turning from your skeptical eyes and nodding profusely.

“Y-Y/n,” he began, gaze still casted downwards. “Would you mind...a-accompanying me to my room?  Th-There’s a bird that flew in, and I don’t know what to do about the thing.”  His voice shook as he spoke.  

You squinted at him.  It was raining outside.  Why had he propped open his window?  Why would he ask you for help?  Emma and Eli were both much more comfortable with animals than you, and the latter especially had a talent with birds.

“Do you want me to get Eli?  He’s much better with things like that,” you offered, your voice skeptical.  

He finally looked up to meet your eyes, his pupils dilating slightly.  

“No, I’d- I’d rather have you.  Help me, I mean,” he finished awkwardly.

You turned over his question in your mind, surveying the man’s frail appearance.  Aesop had never talked to you much, but you supposed he did have a habit of staying around you.  Sometimes you would find him following you places, and he never seemed to be more than a room away from you.  You knew very well the male’s nervous tendencies, as well as his difficulty with interacting with others.  Part of you felt sympathetic for him, but your place in the manor’s social structure wasn’t much different than his.  Still, you felt obligated to help him.  Not many other survivors, or hunters for that matter, acted too kindly towards Aesop.  If he had worked up the courage to ask you something, you might as well comply with his wishes.  He never asked much of anyone, so you supposed it was a rare occasion that you should indulge.

“Alright,” you said hesitantly.  He looked up at you, his eyes the most telling they had ever been.  His grey irises swirled with probably the closest thing to joy you had ever seen him express, mixed with a bit of shock.  You supposed the second part was warranted.  You weren’t particularly one for helping others around the manor, especially because of how selfish and cruel many of the survivors were.  You sure as hell weren’t going to help Freddy if all he would do is be stingy towards you, neither would you help Naib, who would just yell at you if you tried to assist him.  You couldn’t be too upset with him for his reactions, though.  You supposed you would do the same.  Your life before the manor, which was generally spent in poverty and isolation, had bestowed upon you the gift of independence, as well as a lack of selflessness.  You saw this as good.  Why help others if they have nothing to offer to you?  

You were only helping Aesop because...well...you supposed you enjoyed his company, however solitary the time you spent together would be.  And you supposed he had never asked for anything before…

And so you were off, following Aesop down the winding hallways of the manor.  He led you through sets of doors, each strikingly similar and equally as eerie as the next.  The clothed floor creaked beneath you as you walked, carpet growing indents in it each time either of you would take a step.  

After what felt like an eternity filled with nothing more than the sound of monotonous footsteps, you reached what you presumed to be the embalmer’s door.  It was a tall door, one that was crafted from mahogany and glazed to be a darker, more sultry color.  He hesitantly turned to face you, an unsure expression on his face as he gazed at you with distrust.  

“I…” He began, only to leave his sentence hanging.  

“You wanted me to shoo away the bird, right?”

Aesop tried not to panic as he looked at you.

Vulnerable you.

Standing outside of his room.

Once you were within the confines of his abode, he could do whatever he wished to you.  You were going to look so wonderful dead.

He wrapped a milky hand around the doorknob, pulling it open and letting you into his room.  He watched you with narrowed eyes as you walked through, observing your surroundings with a sort of careful skepticism.

You had a distinct feeling that something was wrong.  Aesop never allowed anyone into his quarters.  He never even let anyone see inside of his embalming kit.  He was excessively private.  This was strange.  And the feeling of eyes burning into your back was not helping with your nerves.

“Mr. C-Carl,” you said, shifting to face him.  “Where was the bird?”  Your words knocked him out of his unconscious stupor, and he shut his door behind him before pointing to a place near his clothing chest.  You turned around, walking towards it as he discreetly locked the door behind him.  

He watched you intently as you bent over, looking carefully through his meticulously organized room with part curiosity and part concern.  

“Aesop,” he corrected, his voice barely a whisper.  

You hummed in confusion, looking back to face him.  

“My name...please don’t be so formal.”  

Your eyes betrayed you as utter confusion seeped through your pupils.  Aesop had always been one for formalities, and he had always been perhaps the strictest about respect out of the group.  Only a few survivors called him by his first name, all of which did so without his permission.  This wasn’t like him.

By now you were certain that something was wrong.  However, you just nodded compliantly, still foolishly putting your trust in the male and shoving your suspicions down.  He was probably just trying to be nice.  

You breathed in a sigh, turning back to to corner and continuing to look for the bird.  There were no signs of one, and you grew increasingly irritated at the male for calling you as you came to the realization that there was probably no such thing in the first place.  Bringing a finger up to your temple, you muttered out once more.  

“Mr. Car-”  

“I told you to refer to me as Aesop.”

You felt a deep presence take its place near you as you stood stock still, the clarity of the young embalmer’s voice indicating that he was directly behind you.  Lurching upwards, you whipped around, an unintentionally accusatory expression on your face.  

“Please don’t...be so close to me.  I-  Why are you..” You couldn’t even finish your sentence, your discombobulated words drying up as he leaned into you, moving his face down to meet yours as you looked on with discomfort and shifted away from him as far as you could.  He just hummed in satisfaction, eyes narrowing as he observed the power he currently held over you, how you were bending away at the mere prospect of his touch.  Anyone else might have found this hurtful, but your actions just submerged Aesop into an unmistakable feeling of power, one that he faintly remembered from his time before the manor when he was still working as an apprentice.

He carefully reached out a hand, feelings of longing spreading through his fingertips as he drew them close to your face.  A slender digit traced up to your hairline, shifting some stray hairs aside.  You stood there, quivering.  

This was uncomfortable.  You had to go.  Even Aesop must know that this wasn’t normal.  Your eyes darted across the four walls of his room before falling on the door.  You spared him one more shaking glance before pushing him away from you, shoving the male to the side and sprinting towards your only viable exit.  You heard him stumble a bit behind you, the satisfaction of having stunned him motivating you to move faster.  You grasped a hand out, searching blindly for the doorknob in a less than futile attempt to let yourself out of the room.  You grabbed a hold of it, shaking wildly when it failed to click open.  

An unforeseen force grasped you by the back of your collar, pulling you backwards and eliciting a few chokes from you.  Your body collided with something soft behind you, the slim torso of the embalmer pressing up against yours in an uncomfortably heated manner.  His breathing was thick and shallow, as though he were struggling for air as he grasped you within his horribly depraved hands.  His arm slid around your middle, pulling you further into him as he breathed down your neck, heavy sighs falling against your skin and creating a sensation of chills within your shoulders.  

“Don’t run,” he said between heavy breaths, voice shaky and thick with something akin to arousal.  

Without warning, you were shoved against the cold wood of his desk, head banging against the surface as he wrapped his hands around your throat, his movements sharp and concise.  You yelped, only for the sound to come out as a series of gasps due to his inhuman grip on you.  You clawed your hands against his, eyes glazing over as you fought against the male.  He refused to let up on you, his mask itching down his face and revealing a sick half smile.  

You felt as though you were about to die. Correction: you were going to die.  But you were nothing if not a fighter.  You kicked your steadily numbing leg up, your unclothed foot colliding with his stomach.  He grimaced, his grip loosening noticeably for what must have been less than a second.  This moment, however, was enough to give you just the slightest bit of hope, and so you kept struggling. If he was going to kill you, you should at least like to go out fighting.  

A flash of clarity came to you as you shoved your hands towards his face, aiming for his eyes as your outstretched fingers came into contact with the male’s milky flesh.  He threw himself backwards, retracting his hands and hissing as he shaded his face from further assault.  

You took off, sprinting wildly towards the door and stumbling over your own feet as you tumbled away from your attacker, lunging once more and outstretching your hand.  Taking heed of your previous mistakes, your fingers slipped around the lock, releasing it before pulling the door open.  The hallway never had looked so inviting before as you jumped out into it, forcing yourself through the doorway and out into the hallway and screaming for someone to help and…

And no sound came from your lips.  In one swift motion, Aesop grabbed you back, his grip on your midsection suffocating.  He kicked the door closed, wrapping his arm around your chin in order to muffle the cries that were threatening to spill out of your mouth.  You kicked and struggled as he once again pulled you backwards, keeping one arm wrapped around your waist as he reached into the pocket of his jacket.  

“I wanted to try and make this as painless for you as I could, darling.  However, it appears that tried methods always work the best.  Choking is far too messy of death anyways, isn’t it?  I want the beginning of your new life with me to be as clean as possible, I want it to be something befitting of a person like you.”  You stopped moving, freezing up as he spoke out the word death.  “It’s a good thing I prepared for this, hm?”

You craned your head towards his mobile hand, spotting a syringe filled with a milky substance, the tip of it dripping slightly as he pushed the plunger forward and tested the liquid.  

“What?-”  You managed to spit out, gasping as you pulled against his restricting arm with all your worth.  

“Pancuronium bromide,” the male said, addressing your unspoken query.  “It’s a serum used in lethal injection.  It should be relatively painless, well- as painless as death can be.”  His voice was confident, firmer than you had ever heard it.  It was terrifying, how quickly he had switched from his customary anxious demeanor to this cold, almost professional persona.  

“No, Aesop please think about this!  I’ll- I don’t know what you want, money, or- or information or sex- but I’ll give it to you, please we can work this out, I just- Mr. Carl please!”

He paused before answering, his grip tightening even more as he began to speak.  “My love.  My beautiful, exquisite gem, my precious doll.  You really do not understand, do you?  This is the only way we can truly be together.  I cannot bear to be without you any longer, I can’t stand being without your presence.  Of course, the likes of you wouldn’t spend time with someone such as myself, so you must understand that this is just me ensuring that we can stay together, forever.”  He halted, letting his words hang heavy in the air. “I’m doing this because I love you.  This pain will be temporary, but my affections for you won’t ever let up.  I’ve never had even a concept of what love should be, but you’ve helped me to see that this is what it is, and you are the person who I have chosen to spend the rest of my time with.”  His voice grew gentler as he spoke, his tone reverent as he held you.  You grew numb at his words.  He truly was messed up, in more ways than one.  What he was describing was not love, it was obsession.  It was a cruel infatuation, one that, for some reason, had led to him feeling the need to kill you.  

“Aesop.  I- I promise I’ll be with you.  I- I love you!  I do..and I will continue to do so, but you must let me live.  I beg this of you, I just wish to spend time with you, I truly am o-obsessed with you, Mr. Carl.”  You felt him freeze up behind you at your feigned confession.  The promise of your affections had to be enough to convince him to not kill you, you were going to make sure of it.  No matter what, you were going to make it away from the embalmer, alive.  You would try anything, and eventually you would be-

“Doll,”  He began, his arm resuming its suffocating grip on your torso, the sudden pressure enough to make you draw your breath in as you fought for air.  “Please don’t be so formal.  I told you to call me Aesop”

A sharp pain spread through your neck, the feeling of a needle plunging into your skin barely registering in your mind as he held you, a low hum falling from his mouth as he held your quivering self.  He drained the syringe of the substance, pushing it further into your vein as he gazed down on you with eyes full of concentrated adoration.  He had killed before, but nothing had ever felt as satisfying as gripping your twitching body, holding onto your vulnerable form as the fluid began to spread through your bloodstream.  You shook against him as he laid you on his bed, silken sheets coming up to caress your steadily paling face.  

Nimble fingers removed the syringe, wiping the needle with a nearby cloth before setting both upon a bedside table.  His silver eyes drank in your form, pupils dilated as he ran his gaze over the red marks on your neck.  He couldn’t manage to resist a final temptation of his, reaching his hands out once more and wrapping them on top of the strips of pink skin.  He knew that the bromide would be enough to kill you, but he couldn’t deny that there was something satisfying about the power he felt as he had choked you before.  As so he gazed down at you, now too weak to struggle against his hold.  

His grip was what finally pushed you over the edge.  A deep breath reverberated through your lungs right as the life finally faded from your eyes, pupils glazing over and cornea becoming cloudy as you gazed forward with a sort of inanimate poise.  You were still, completely still.

Aesop was right.

You did look beautiful dead.

He kept his eyes on you, gazing at you distrustingly as he retrieved his embalming case, as though he was expecting you to spring back to life.  

He set it down beside you before moving your limp legs onto the bed, your body significantly heavier than it was before.  Such was one of the physical tolls of death.  

Hands subconsciously reached for a needle and thread, used normally for repairing ripped clothes and garments before burials.  It held a different purpose for you, though.  You were special, a newly immortalized doll, and one that should be treated as such.  He threaded the needle, gripping it between careful fingers before carefully lifting your eyelid and plunging it within the flesh that lay there.  He slowly sewed it to your bottom lid, a bit of blood spurting out, which he quickly wiped away with a previously pristine white cloth.  He moved on to your other eyes, repeating his same meticulous process.  A finger traced over your stitches, caressing them with a sort of gentleness that could only occupy one such as Aesop. He took another glance at your features, deciding that you needed to look at least a bit more lifelike.  Aesop hated the living, but he supposed you had always given him pleasure while alive.  He wanted to preserve his feelings, no matter what.  He plucked the corners of your mouth up into a smile before threading the string through your lips and cheeks, forcing your features into a permanent simper.  He tied off the string, appeased by the doll-like appearance that the stitches gave you.  He took out some blush, methodically spreading it upon your blanched cheeks and up near your nose, returning a bit of life into your body.  Your robe was soon pulled open, leaving you in only your nightgown.  You looked so soft, so vulnerable.  Aesop was pleased.

He caressed his hand against your cheeks before bending beneath his bed, drawing out an elongated wooden box that lay there.  He opened the top, revealing the plush white surface of the surrogate coffin.  He pushed himself up, more careful than ever as he placed you within the tomb, manually wrapping your hands over your chest.  You looked so peaceful, so utterly perfect, and you were going to stay as such.

Now you two would be bound forever, with him as your owner and you as his loving doll.  Such a relationship was born out of his pure love for you, his unadulterated affection that no one, not even yourself, could hinder for any longer.  This was a safer and more thorough solution, not to mention more desirable for Aesop.

He despised the living.

And so here you were, perfectly preserved for him.  

[vesuvianmess]

Popsicles?

Art by @jilljoycearts Drexxel is @vesuvianmess Vell is @deathbyarcana

A short fic recounting how these two met, pulled (with some edits) directly from a currently running roleplay.

Quick Warning: Contains mentions of stalking and harassment

"You are very welcome, have a good rest of your day!" He waved the group off with a smile. "Hiya, what can I get you?" He asked another.

Flitting back and forth from group to group, he greeted every single person with a genuine smile. There was nothing more satisfying than seeing others light up with joy. He’d taken up working at the bakery part time to help with some expenses of running his own shop. And he had to admit, the smell of fresh baked bread may have influenced that choice. The job was never boring as the market was always flooded with people, locals and travelers alike, all looking for something. Still, he only worked with Selasi during the mornings and early afternoons. When he’d had his fill, he would return home to open the doors to his own little business.

But today, he had something a little different in mind. Instead of selling little animal pelts, herbs, bits, and bobbles, he was in and out again in a flash. Having changed into something much more comfortable for the heat, he pulled a wheeled cart behind him to the town square. Near the fountain, he’d found the perfect spot and pulled the cover off the cart. It would take him a little time to set everything up, but once it was done, he noticed people already beginning to gather around. Some faces he'd seen many, many times before. Others, much more new. Taking a seat on an overturned wooden bucket, he twirled a pair of drumsticks between his fingers. 

“Hello Vesuvia, I’m bringing you a special late afternoon show! Now then," he sat up a little, the line of his back straightening. "For those of you new to my show, we have fun here! Here's how this goes!" making a grand sweeping gesture to the gathered crowd, he continued on. "You may request a song but there is no guarantee I will play it. I will not tolerate pushing, shoving, or otherwise harmful activity during my shows. And, as always, tips are appreciated but not required, come stay for awhile and feel the beat of the sound! I'm Drexxel Volkov, and may luck be forever in your favor!" 

It started with a small metallic chime, a shortstop of little taps on the rims of the set. But before long the square was alight with the beating of drums. His whole body moved in time with each beat almost as if he were dancing along to his own song. Small children bounced and tugged at their parents' sleeves, urging them to get closer. New comers stood with delighted expressions, some even getting a little antsy standing in one place, others giving way to bouncing their bodies to the rhythm. 

There was nothing better than this, looking out into the crowd as he thrummed away the minutes, flipping the sticks and singing along even though nobody could hear him over the heartbeat he'd created. 

The crowd was thick as usual but new faces stuck out easy to him. Even with the prick of sweat beginning to roll down his forehead, he was able to focus enough to make everyone feel included in his performance. One face in particular he stopped at for more than a split second. A taller man with vivid blue hair, dark skin, and a sort of shaken demeanor. He looked….out of place perhaps amid the crowd, like he could bolt at any moment. Drexel found himself stealing glances at the man throughout his show, a dizzying knot of butterflies in his gut as he saw the man start to meld into the hum around him. The thrill of the performance carried him through like a tidal wave crashing against the shore, his fiery passion shining through clear as day. Every movement felt natural, every breath felt like a whole new beginning. Drexxel never came from a background that favored this sort of thing, rather it was something he'd picked up on his own time. He had the extra energy to spare and needed an outlet to help with it. Besides, he always did like seeing people smile and what better way to do that then get them moving? 

Into the second song now and he felt a wave of static run through him. Someone in the crowd was a magician. He could feel it. Even through the loud beating of drums and the crashing of cymbals the low electrical humming filled his body. He was sure of it. But was this magician able to sense him as well? That he did not know. He wasn’t sure precisely where the feeling was coming from, but he was determined to draw it out. With it toying at his mind, he decided it was time to show off just a little more. After all, using magic was a good way to lure out another magician. 

Drexxel simply waited as he beat along in time to find the perfect moment to really show off his moves. Normally he would have saved this bit for later in the evening, but he just had to do it now. After feeling that little pang of magic, he knew he had to show whoever was producing it, that they weren't the only one with fancy magic at their fingertips. Just a moment longer....

When the final chorus of the song hit, he let it loose. His drumsticks sparked and crackled to life, enveloped in searing hot flames. With his sticks now burning with intense heat, he slammed away at his drums with more grandeur and energy than before. With each hit fire roared from the contact point, creating a dazzling display of towers of fire in varying sizes. If anything were to draw this other magician out, it would be this. 

By the end of the show, much to his dismay, this fellow kin had not revealed themselves. It was a bit of a shame really, he would have loved to have someone join in his performance. What a dazzling display that would have been. He could only imagine what kind of magic would have complimented his own.

"Thank you all for joining me this afternoon!" He gave a bow, his hair falling a bit loose from his bun. "It's a hot one out today so make sure to stay hydrated and get some good food in your belly!" 

 He stood and lifted his arms over his head in a long stretch before using the rad cloth tied to his side to wipe away the sweat that cling to his skin. The show was over, but people still lingered in the area, some tossing coins into an open bowl near the drum set, others approaching Drexxel with questions. He was small for his age of twenty-five, standing at mere chest (or just below) level with most other adult’s that spoke with him. He had a thin, but decently sturdy frame with most of his strength apparent in his legs. Most people would know him for a scar that ran along his right cheek. Whenever asked about it he would simply tell them he didn’t remember where it came from but knew he’d had it most of his life. 

The town square was still bustling with people as he began to pack up his things. Above it all though, he could hear footsteps approaching him. He paused a moment then spun on his heel to come face to face with a regular to his shows. The man was leagues taller than himself and had a strange look to his eyes. He was holding a piece of paper, crumpled and damp with sweat in his hands. Drexxel heard the man speak but didn’t quite catch the words. 

“I’m sorry?” He responded back, urging the man to repeat himself. When he did, a chill ran down his spine. “...Go out with me. Dinner.” He pushed the paper into Drexxel’s hands. “You’re so pretty.” 

The smaller pulled the note apart just enough to read it. In shaken scrawl it read:

‘Don’t make a scene. I’ve been planning this. You and I belong together.’

He’d seen this sort of thing before in books and screenplays. Some secret admirer gets too confident and goes after someone who isn’t interested and it becomes a problem. Problem being a kind way to put it. Harassment was a better word for it. Bold of him to make the attempt in broad daylight, let alone a busy square. In the kindest way possible, Drexel looked up at the man and spoke.

“I’d love to, but I have plans this evening. Another show I mean.” 

He felt the prickle of magic in the air again, but it wasn’t coming from the man in front of him. The magician was still in the area. 

"Excuse me, I'm talking to you." the man's voice broke him from his thoughts. "I'll be picking you up this evening."

Drexxel's brow furrowed, the energy around him shifting like hissing smoke trying to catch on damp wood. 

"I'm really sorry, I mean it." He offered a sincerely looking apologetic smile. "But I really must be getting home." He made a move to leave but was stopped when the man caught his wrist. 

"You're not going anywhere short-stack." 

This....could be bad. As much as the crowd had dissipated, there were still people lingering about. Too much of a risk to cause a scene. But every fiber of Drexxel's being was telling him to flee. He needed an out. In the most...nonchalant way possible, he attempted to wriggle his wrist free. 

"Your performance really spoke to me Drexxy. It's like you were composing a symphony just for me." As he was caught in his own little moment, Drexxel pulled his wrist free. But it only lasted a second.

He felt a pull against his skin before he heard a small snap. The man had missed when reaching for Drexxel's wrist and instead caught the beaded double bracelet on his wrist. Beads had gone flying haphazardly in every direction, landing on the stones below like pellets. In that moment he felt the pull of magic much closer than before. This other magician was close. Very close. 

Drexxel was unfortunately used to people approaching him with much more....fervor than he anticipated. However, this particular instance was something else. He'd never had someone so adamant on taking him home. If this were to go on for a moment longer, he was sure to lose his composer. He may be a pretty upbeat guy but he also had a notoriously short fuse. 

That hissing aura was rapidly kindling itself from a crackling campfire to a firestorm. When his bracelet snapped, he felt something in him switch. Rage bubbled up under his skin like pot boiling over on a stove set too high. His fist clenched and a growl escaped him. 

But then, out of nowhere, everything around him stopped. He was about to throw a fiery punch but stopped short when he saw another man between him and his new 'friend'. It was the man he saw in the crowd! He said he was there to help just now. But what was he doing here and how did he…

"How--?" Then it hit him like a hard slap to the face. "So you're the magician I was picking up on!" His anger flickered back to amusement and joy. "I knew I wasn't imagining it! Oh! The helping thing, yes." 

Drexxel offered the newest stranger a warm, bright smile. Without hesitation, he grabbed his hand and shook it furiously. 

"Nice to meet you, I'm Drexxel! What do you say we blow this popsicle stand and get somewhere far away from this creep?"

The other man seemed to freeze up, like he expected a much worse response. His whole arm wobbled when Drexxel shook it. His eyes were wide and his lips parted in shock. It took him a minute to process what the smaller man had said to him. 

“Oh, I…that is….popcicles?” The man felt his face go hot, blood rushing to his cheeks. He was sure the smaller man would mistake him for a tomato. 

Drexxel watched him curiously. It was like watching the gears of a clock turning, the way this man seemed to be having an inner monologue with himself about whether or not he’d made the right call to get involved. He could feel how shaken up the man was, his hand trembling. Not very good at keeping his cool was he? Finally he spoke again. 

“It’s localized. My….my magic…it…I mean I…no, it. It will wear off when we get a distance away. He could follow? I- who, well…popsicles?”

Drexxel had always been good at making new friends and getting people to laugh and smile. He was small, yes, but he made up for his size with seemingly boundless energy. It was nearly impossible to not like the guy. But, he could tell, he kind of took this one by surprise. But it wasn't the first time someone had responded this way. Not often he got to see someone turn that red before though!

Whoever this new guy was, Drexxel had never seen his face in Vesuvia before. And he’dbeen in the city for quite some time now. It'd been since he was about nineteen. He knew almost every face in Vesuvia, even if a good handful of them were only in passing. But this one, this one he wanted to know more about. Consider his interest piqued. 

When time came back and this new magician struggled to make a clear sentence, it was all Drexxel could do to hold in a laugh. Localized magic though, not sure he'd heard of that one before. He completely skipped over the popsicle schtick.

"Localized huh? Hey, think you could use your magic with mine? I'm thinking....a wall of fire!" He still hadn't let go of the stranger's hand. "I could put a wall of fire around him, just tall enough to trip him up of course. You could stop time around it until we get far enough away that your....localization wears off!" Mossy green eyes brimmed with excitement. He gave the hand in his a squeeze. 

"I bet we'll make a great team!"

He could see the man trying to process the words coming out of Drexxel’s mouth. He’ll admit, he was a bit of a fast talker when he was excited. 

“Wall of fire…” He repeated Drexxel’s words, more to himself than the other, considering the idea. Not terribly flawed, he thought. A quick fix but not long lasting. “Worth…worth a shot.” an unsteady voice. “Wait - a team?” Vell had barely gotten the words out before the air thrummed with magical energy and, just as promised, fire sprung to life around the note wielding creep. If the situation weren’t as it was, he might have taken time to admire the flames.

"That's what I said isn't it? A team!" He mused, giving this new friend a wink. 

When time did in fact stop around his flames, the passion in his eyes burned that much brighter. He beamed at this new stranger. 

"Talk about a cool party trick. Come on, let's get out of here." Still gripping that hand, he took off. Hopefully this new friend could keep up with him. 

They took off out of the square, rushing past pedestrians and shopping stalls in a race to escape the area. Drexxel had taken the lead, ducking and diving under obstacles like it was as easy as breathing. He felt his new found companion trip up a few times but he managed to keep up the pace. He was new to Vesuvia and hadn’t the slightest idea where the two of them were headed. Drexxel looked back to check on his new friend at just the wrong moment. The edge of his sandal caught on uneven stone, sending him tumbling into an unattended fruit cart, scattering oranges along the alley. He’d never let go of this new companion’s hand, and in turn, the two of them fell together. The other man now had him pinned, a leg on either side of him. 

“I-- We-- uh…” The stranger fought to find the right words, feeling like a tea kettle ready to whistle. “We fell.” 

Drexxel could feel his own face burning a bright shade. He would have been able to laugh it off if it weren’t for his immediate attraction to this man. Impulse guiding him, he offered the man a toying smirk. “You know, I think this might be fate.” He winked. “And I don’t even know your name.” 

“M-my name?” The other man stuttered.

He tried to stand, pulling on Drexxel’s hands to pull him up as well, only to lose his footing. He fell back onto the stone, the smaller of the two now sitting perched on his abdomen. The look in his eyes was….entrancing. Intoxicating even. He couldn’t look away. “I’m Vell.” 

“Vell…” Drexxel liked the way the name felt when he said it. He let his hands drift to the other man’s chest, watching him with bright eager eyes.

Now, what was that saying about playing with fire?

[believinghurts]

Their Daughter Pt 2

Warnings: Yelling, self doubt? 

Requested: No

MUST READ PART ONE FIRST 

This hasn’t been proofread so I’m sorry in advance!

Part One The following weeks after Sirius arrived at Grimmauld Place were good. He spent some time with Ali although they ever spent much time with just the two of them at her request to her Uncles. She had agreed to spending time with Sirius, but didn’t want to be by herself with him; not that she feared he would harm, but that she didn’t want things to be awkward or for her to say the wrong thing. Regulus or Remus was always home with the two since Sirius wasn’t allowed to leave the house. Ali learned that like Regulus Sirius could play piano and also speak French. She also noticed that Sirius was restless. He always was moving or doing something to occupy his mind. They played Wizards Chess, Ali always won, or Exploding Snaps, Sirius won as well as watched a few Muggle movies. 

Sirius enjoyed spending time with his daughter learning all the things he should have known if it weren’t for him being in Azkaban. He learned that her favorite color was green, that she loved to read anything she could get her hands on, and that she could speak some French as well as Bulgarian. She didn’t play Qudditch, but enjoyed watching it and was a fan of the Bulgarian team since she was friends with Viktor Krum. When Viktor was mentioned Sirius learned from Remus that the boy had had a crush on her, but Ali only saw him as a friend. True to Remus’s word Ali really was a light. The old house he was forced to stay in seemed brighter now that there was so much life in it. 

Although he enjoyed the time he got to spend with Ali, he was slightly agitated that he didn’t get to have one on one time with her. He knew that she didn’t fully trust him yet, but he wasn’t going to hurt her. On top of spending time with Ali, he always got to build his relationship with Remus back up. It was strained before he was arrested and it still was. He thought Remus was the traitor so he avoided him the last couple of days of the first war. He loved Remus as a brother though he used to think that it was more than that. Now that Remus spent so much time at Grimmauld Place their relationship was as strong as before. Regulus and Sirius still got on each other's nerves and it was bluntly obvious most times. Regulus tried to maintain his temper mainly for Ali because he knew she didn’t like yelling. Try as he might they still had a yelling match that Ali had overheard while Remus was out. 

It was the Tuesday after Sirius had arrived, and Ali had been in the living room on the couch reading a book. It was the first time Remus had left in a couple days and he was out to get groceries. Regulus had been reading with Ali when Sirius came in and asked to speak with him privately. Ali had acted like she was paying attention when the men left the room. She heard the door to the study shut, she quietly went through the trap door in the hallway that led into the wall of the study. She sat on her heels listening to the conversation that was about her. 

“Why is Ali hanging out with the Malfoy’s? I thought you were done with all the Death Eater business, Regulus,” Sirius accused. 

Regulus rolled his eyes, “because they are friends? Isn’t that what friends do? I thought you of all people would know that.” 

“Friends? Seriously? You KNOW that Lucius was a Death Eater and he would never change his ways. And you just let her be friends with their kid?! Are you insane?,” Sirius yelled making Ali flinch. 

“Yes. they are friends. Ali has a hard time making friends if you must know. She’s a Black and your child. You were sent to Azkaban, it’s public knowledge. No one trusts her no matter how many times she proved herself. She hangs out with Draco and his friends. He watches out for her. He always has.” Regulus’s voice was firm. He wasn’t going to let Sirius ruin the few relationships Ali had outside of the house. He knew that Sirius wouldn’t trust the Malfoy’s but he did. They helped him with ali when he needed something the was grateful for. Sirius would never understand what it’s like for Ali. “Sirius, I will not be discussing this again with you. Her friends are her friends. She trust them. Get over it. You have no right to say anything about it. Leave it alone, Sirius. I suggest you come to term with it.” 

Regulus had left Sirius stewing over his words. Sirius didn’t want his daughter hanging out with the Malfoys and she was not going to. Alianova was his daughter, not Regulus’s. If he didn’t want her hanging out with them, she wouldn’t. 

Sirius hadn’t spent a lot of time with Ali since that day. She had overheard from Remus that Harry and some others were to be joining us at Grimmauld Place, something that she's not looking forward to. Her and Harry didn’t get along mainly due to the fact that she was there when Draco made fun of Harry's friend choice in First Year. Admittedly Ali was the reason that Draco had stopped with tormenting so many people, but he hadn’t stopped completely and Harry just got on his nerves to no end. It didn’t help matters that the Weasley twins had played many pranks on her. Draco wouldn’t stand for anyone making fun of or bullying Ali. Draco saw her as a little sister even though they were only 3 months apart. 

When Harry had found out that Sirius was his Godfather while believing that he was the cause of his parents death, he had taken it out on Alianova. Calling her many names, blaming her for her fathers actions, and going as far as saying she was as vile as those that followed Voldermort. Though Harry blamed her father for what had happened he didn’t know that it was her father; he believed it was her Uncle. Even after he learned the truth he had never apologized to Ali or even looked her way for that matter. Ali was pretty sure that Herimone didn’t have much of an opinion on her since that had never had problems nor talked. Ron put her in the same category as Draco since she hung out with him and other Slytherins. She was also there when Draco called Hermione a Mudblood, what Ron didn’t know was that after the incident Ali gave Draco a tongue lashing and didn’t speak to him for three days till he was basically crying, begging her to talk to him. So Ali knew that when Harry arrived it wasn’t going to be pleasant for her. 

Her Uncles were aware of the fact that she didn’t get along with the Golden Trio, and were seemingly preparing for the worst. Severus dropped off a new set of books she had been wanting so that she could keep busy if she was going to hide out  in her room. Remus had talked to her about it, explaining that he knew Ali never did anything to make Harry act like he did towards her, as well as making sure she had her favorite tea and extra chocolate chip cookies in the cupboard. Regulus was silently preparing for a battle to break out when Harry did arrive. He had a feeling that it wasn’t going to go over well when he saw how the duo couldn't stand one another. Sirius would think that Harry and Ali would be best friends because him and James were. Regulus had never actually talked to the Potter boy unlike Severus and Remus. Ali never talked about him, but he had heard a few things from Draco about how Potter perched for equality though treated Slytherins like dirt Ali being included. 

The couple days leading up to Harry's arrival with the Weasley’s Ali started going in on herself; spending even more time alone, not talking a lot during meals, or going to bed earlier than normal. Sirius noticed her odd behavior but just thought it was a teenage girl thing. He was excited for Harry to get there. He felt bad that he wasn’t there for him all these years and was planning on making it up to him in any way that he could. It was all that came out of Sirius’s mouth the last couple of days and Regulus was fuming over it. Sirius hadn’t even been this excited when he was going to meet his own daughter for crying out loud.

Ali was sitting in the kitchen when she heard a commotion coming from the front door. Thinking it was just Remus coming back she brushed it off going back to reading her book till she heard voices coming towards her. She looked up seeing Sirius walking in with Harry under his arm while an army of Redheads followed. Great. I’m trapped in here with them, she thought to herself. Truthfully she was nervous that Harry  was going to say something that could ruin  what little relationship she had with her father. Ali didn’t do well with a lot of people she didn’t know and while she went to school with all these kids she didn’t know them besides their bullying towards her. Glancing back up from her book she saw that Ron was glaring at her, Harry was looking at her with what could be described as distrust, and Sirius was looking at her confused while the others looked at her with curiosity minus the twins who couldn't care less. 

“Ali, get off the counter and come say hello to our new house guest,” Sirius demanded while motioning her forward. She hopped off the counter trying to fight off the blush that was rising to get reprimanded for something she did all the time, and offering a little wave towards the crowd, “Hi, I’m Alianova, but you can call me Ali.” 

None of the children said anything, but the redheaded adults looked at her oddly. The women who Ali knew to be the Weasley mother looked at Sirius, “You didn’t tell us that Regulus had a daughter Sirius.” 

Ali’s mouth dropped. He hadn't ever mentioned her to anyone? She felt her heart shatter in her chest. Tears burned in her eyes as she felt like a dirty little secret. She cleared her throat hoping to get rid of the egg carton she had swallowed not wanting to cry in front of them. 

“As much as I would love to take claim for this princess, I cannot. Isn’t that right, Sirius?” Regulus ultimately appeared out of thin air next to Ali wrapping an arm around her shoulders. He knew that Molly meant no harm with her comment, but it hurt Ali still. Regulus couldn't help but smirk a little when he noticed Sirius was flustered a bit at Molly's comment. Sirius oblivious wasn’t expecting someone to rung up the fact that he had a daughter that he didn’t tell anyone about. The humor was swiped out of the situation when Regulus noticed the tears gathered in his nieces eyes. Regulus wished that Ali was all his and not Sirius’s. Sirius didn’t deserve someone so pure, and time would tell if Sirius deserved someone at all. 

Everyone looked shocked staring at Sirius, “Then whose is she?,” Harry asked. 

Sirius rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly looking down at his feet, “Harry, this is my daughter Alianova Black.” 

“What?!”

“Your daughter?” 

“She’s a snake!” 

Various voices rang out through the room as the information was taken in. Ali subconsciously stepped closer to Regulus clutching her book to her chest, not enjoying the loud noise nor the stares that were now coming her way. Molly had hushed her children before stepping forward to meet the girl. 

“Hello, dear. I’m Molly Weasley.” Ali looked at the women nervous. She uncurled her hand from around her book and shook the older womens hand. She smiled slightly at her and her kindness, thanking Merlin that at least one of the Weasley’s seemed nice. Molly started to point to the others in the room, “That’s Arthur, my husband, ‘ Pointing to the man that gave her a enthusic wave before looking around the house again. “Bill and Fleur,” A long haired redhead with a fang earring stepped forward with a girl Ali recognized as Fleur Delocur under his arm. Fleur smiled brightly when she saw it was Ali everyone was talking about. They had talked some while Fleur was at Hogwarts, and she was looking forward to speaking with the young girl again. “That’s Charlie. He won’t be here a lot since he goes back and forth to his job in Romania,” A man with long hair who was slightly shorter than Bill, but broader smiled at her nodding his head before turning back to his older brother. “And of course you know the others from school, right dear?” 

Ali nodded her head avoiding looking at the younger of the bunch. Harry spoke up once again looking at Ali, “You never told me he was your dad.” 

“You never asked, Potter,” Ali summoned all the confidence she had in her body to help her look him in the eye. “And obviously it wasn’t important enough for Sirius to mention it either.” 

The tension was thick in the room. Most looking between Ali and Sirius wondering what was going to happen next. When Sirius noticed no one was going to come to his aid he stepped up, “I didn’t mention it because it just never came up. I wasn’t sure where you were Alianova so I didn’t know if they knew you or not. Maybe now that all of you,” he paused looking at the trio then me, “will be living in the same house where you can be friends.” 

Ali silently rolled her eyes knowing that nothing would make them want to be friends with her. Ron scoffed, “Yeah right. She’s a bloody slytherin.” 

His comment earned him a whack upside the head from his mother. “It doesn't matter what she is or not. You will be nice, do you understand me?” She sent pointed looks to Ginny, Ron, Fred, and George who all looked down at the floor nodding. Ali noticed the pleading look she got from the twins, but she couldn’t tell if it was asking her to forgive them or for her not to tell all the horrid things that they had done to her and her friends. 

Ali decided it was time to correct something. Even though they had all been sorted together it was evident the trio had not paid enough attention to know what house she was in. “Actually, I’m a Ravenclaw.” 

Regulus beamed down at his niece freaking his older brother out. He was proud that ALi stood up for herself. She was Black, but did not have the temper of one. She often preferred to ignore confrontation at all cost. Ali lit out a quiet giggle at the look of shock on their faces. She figured at least Hermione knew that she was a ravenclaw. 

“But you are always with the Slytherins,” Harry stated

“Yeah, they're my friends?” 

“But you're a Ravenclaw, why hang out with the snakes?” Ron seemingly finished Harry's thoughts for him and Ali wondered if it was because they shared a brian cell. 

“I just get along with them..Draco is family anyway. So we’ve always been close. I don't understand what the problem is? Just because I’m from one house I cant be friends with people in another?” Ali crossed her arms over her chest while Harry glared at her through narrowed eyes. 

Noticing that things were going to get south quickly Regulus stepped in. “Um, Molly, Kreacher has prepared some of the rooms you lot. The doors that are open are the ones that are ready. I can have Kreacher show you if you like.” 

“No it's okay, dear.” with that Molly Weasley set off, ordering her children to a room and to whom they would share with. Herimone and Ginny, and Fred and George took the rooms on the top floor, Harry and Ron on the floor above Ali with Molly and Arthur, while Charlie took the room beside Ali’s and Bill and Fleur took the room across from her. Ali was excited that Fleur would be so close to her. Although the girl was much old she had taken a liking to Ali and the two bonded through French and their love for anything sweet. Fleur was one of the many girls and boys that Ali had bonded with when the other two schools were staying at Hogwarts. Viktor was someone Ali had known from a young age and he had introduced her to many of his Balharian friends whereas she met Fleur on accident and became close with ehr and the other french girls. Before leaving the room Fleur had shocked everyone by pulling Bill and Charlie with her to hug the girl close and whispering that she was glad to see her again. Fleur introduced her to the older Weasleys more privately making sure Ali knew that they wouldn’t judge her like the others did since Fleur knew all about her struggles in school. 

Charlie was shocked when he saw the book about Dragons in Ali’s hands. “You read about Dragons?” Causing Bill to roll his eyes at his brother. 

“You only just met the girl ten seconds ago and you are already starting about dragons?” Fleur and Ali let out a little giggle at Bill’s comment while Regulus watched from the corner of the room happy that someone was being kind to his Ali. 

“It’s okay, Bill. Um, yeah, my uncle Sev got me this book. I like to learn about different creatures. I already read all I can about Hippogriffs so I’m onto dragons. You work in romania right? The dragon sanctuary there?” Ali felt kind of odd to be talking with people about something she liked who didn;t know her very well. Every Draco got bored of her ‘learning talk’ as he called it. 

“Yeah I do. How’d you know?” Bill was stunned to see Charlie talking freely without being awkward. Charlie was not well with people which was why he worked so close with as many non human things as he could. 

“Your mum mentioned Romania and you have on Dragon skin boots. So I put two and two together.” 

“Watch out, boys, she’s observant. She’ll know all your secrets before you can even count to ten.” Fleur laughed, hugging Ali once more promising to catch up later before dragging the boy to unpack. 

Ali stood awkwardly watching Sirius fawn over Harry. It was as if Sirius was Harry’s father instead of hers. He had spent a little bit of time with Ali over the past couple of weeks, but he never acted like that. Maybe that was why she had a hard time calling him Dad. It would go back and forth between Sirius and dad. Remus had explained to her that she didn’t have to do anything that she didn’t want to from a young age, so sometimes when she felt like he was acting like her father he was dad, but others he was just Sirius. 

Air of awkwardness around Ali broke Regulus’s heart as he followed her gaze to Sirius and Harry. SIrius was talking with Harry about school and Quidditch while essentially ignoring his own flesh and blood. Regulus knew exactly how ALi felt in that moment because he felt it too when Sirius would push him away in favor of James. When Regulus looked at Sirius and Harry that’s what he saw. The boy hadn’t been here an hour and Sirius was already forgetting those around him like he did in school. 

Regulus was about to walk up to Ali when he heard a pecking noise coming from the window. He recognized it as the Malfoys owl and from the look on Ali’s face she did too. Regulus opened the window letting Ember sit on the still before taking the letters out of its beak. The letters were addressed to Ali and from the handwriting it looked to be Narcissa’s on one and Draco’s on the other. “Here you go Al,” he gave the owl a few treats before sending her home. 

Ali tore open Narcissa’s letter first knowing that all the important information would be in there. She was excited as this was the first time she would get to talk to her other family in weeks seeing as they were gone to France for a trip, one that Ali was invited on, but turned away in favor of hanging out with Regulus. 

Dear Alianova, 

I hope that you are having a good summer so far. I am so sorry that it has taken me so long to write, but it was incredibly busy taking care of your uncle and cousin while in France. We were meant to be home last week, but Lucius wanted to stay a tad bit longer. You know how he is for French coffee. Anyway I heard through Andromeda that Sirius was now staying with you and Regulus. How is that going, darling? I know that you were nervous when he first got out of Azkaban. 

I know that Regulus has allied himself with the Order as we are trying to stay neutral to it all. Lucius has taken a bit more convincing, but after telling him what you told me about He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named being a half-blood he started to listen more. He still doesn’t like it very much, but does not wish to put myself, Draco, or you in harm's way after what happened last year. 

Draco is looking over my shoulder trying to get me to get to what he thinks is the important stuff. The reason I am writing is because I was wondering if you would like to come stay with us for a week or so at the Manor? I know that being around so many people bothers you and Draco tells me you and Potter don’t get along. 

So how about it, darling? We could go shopping for school supplies and anything else you could want. Lucius even said he missed your wits the other day at dinner. Let me know when you decide. If you would rather spend time with your father I understand as does the others. Completely up to you. 

All my love,

 Aunt Cissa 

While Ali was reading her letter Remus had come home from a meeting with Nymphadora. He saw the smile grow on Ali’s face as she read the parchment in her hands. Regulus had given him a pointed look before nodding at Sirius when he entered the room and he instantly knew what he thought would happen had happened. Remus was Sirius and James' friend yes, but he knew how it felt to be the outsider looking in on the duo much like Ali was to Sirius and Harry. 

Once Ali finished her letter and was sticking it back in the envelope Remus approached her. “Hey Nova.” He gave her a hug before leaning on the counter looking at her. “Whose got you all excited?” 

Sirius turned his attention to Ali waiting on her response. He saw her get the letter, but wasn’t sure who they were from. He watched with envy as Ali talked with Regulus and Remus freely. She didn’t act like that towards sirius. Ali was his daughter, much like Harry was his son. He was incredibly grateful to have Harry back in his life, wanting to know the boy as much as possible. Sirius felt his blood start to burn when he heard Ali’s response to Remus’s question. 

“It’s from Cissa. They just got back from France a couple of days ago and wanted to know if I could come stay with them for a week or so,” Ali smiled happily at the thought of spending time with her Aunts. She didn’t know Bellatrix, not that she wanted to, according to Regulus Bellatrix was mean and an avid follower to the Dark Lord. He had placed wards all around the house when the news of her getting out of Azkaban broke out just as Lucius and Ted Tonks did to their houses as well. Andromeda and Narcissa were closer after the Malfoy family stopped following the Dark Lord which led to Ali getting to spend time with her two cousins and her older one falling in love with her uncle Rem even if he denies it. “So can I go? Please?,” she looked back and forth between her two uncles. 

“I don’t have a problem with it, do you Regulus?,” Remus chuckled when he saw Ali bounce lightly on her toes knowing that Regulus wouldn’t say no. 

Regulus opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted, “No, you cannot go. Are you insane? Bellatrix just broke out of prison and you are wanting to spend time with the Malfoys? For all you know Bella could be there!” Sirius practically shouted at the girl who flinched backwards making Regulus scowl at his brother. 

“Yes Ali, you may go. But you have to write to me at least twice, and promise not to get into too much trouble with Draco.” Regulus ignored his brother's huffs focusing on Ali. “When do you leave?” 

“Cissa didn’t say. Just to write back my reply,” Ali started reading the letter to make sure she hadn’t missed it. 

“Well, why don’t you reply and tell her that I can drop you off at Andromedas tomorrow evening when I go pick up Dora,” Remus said fighting the blush from the looks his friend and niece were giving him. 

“Got a date uncle rem?” Ali giggled as Remus’s mouth opened and shut like a fish, “I’ll go write her back. Thank you both.” She kissed them on the cheek before heading to her room. As she climbed the stairs the last thing she heard was the yell of Sirius Black. 

“Are you both fucking insane?! You’re letting her go and STAY at the Malfoy Manor? For a week? It’s no wonder her and Harry don’t get along! She’s just like them! A snake! You have ruined my daughter!” 

Ali’s heart broke again hearing her fathers words about her. Tears ran down her face as she shut her door silently thanking whoever was listening that she was getting out of this house for a little while.

[halcyonstorm]

The Girl at the Library Chapter 1

Short Fic - Levihan

Themes: College AU, Library, Fluff, Slow Burn, Falling in Love, Female Hange Zoe, Student!Levi

Word Count: 5730

Chapter: 1/3

Warning: Mild Language

Read on Ao3 - The Girl at the Library

Summary: Levi is a college student who needs help on his research paper. Luckily, Hange is a book worm and works at the library. 

Levi was stressed and annoyed, mainly because he was in college. Of course with college comes infinite amounts of homework assignments, 100-question exams with astronomical amounts of topics on them, unnecessary research papers, and staying in a dorm room with a kid that happens to have no problem inviting his friends over every night to hang out and party with no regards to his sullen roommate.

Levi had a paper coming up. He had to come up with a topic, find sources, and finish his paper by the end of the semester. With three weeks left to go, he decided he’d rather get it over with. He began his brainstorming in the study lounge at the center of his dormitory floor. He was starting to stress. He sat on the big yellow leather couch in the way-too-bright study lounge with his laptop in his lap. He tapped his pen against his head as he tried to think of an idea. 

“You have to write about a topic related to your major,” The professor explained. “This is the one and only paper you will have assigned this semester. I suggest you get it done as early as possible.”

If only it were that easy. He had the rubric pulled up in one tab, and a ton of “How to pick a research topic” websites in others. His major was pharmaceuticals, a field he was inspired to take on because of his mother. She was very ill when he was very young, so they were in and out of hospitals. He was sitting on the edge of his mother’s hospital bed when a nurse came in the room to administer her medications. 

“This is…” His memory was blurry. “This medication will help… and make you feel better.” And it did. 9 year old Levi was fascinated. This one little pill or bag of what looked like water helped his mother feel better. Within hours, his mother’s skin went from pallor to beige. Her hands were warmer. She looked more awake, more alive. She didn’t wince at Levi’s touch. She was in less pain. She got better, like the nurse predicted.

Since then, Levi always asked questions whenever they visited the hospitals again and again. “What kind of drug is that?” “What does it do?” “How long does it take to take effect?”

Levi recalled the memory with a deep sigh. He missed his mother. She was at home, not too far away. Levi never had the time to travel the hour through the big city to visit her. When he did have free time, he spent it studying or sleeping. He felt his heart twinge at this. She had sacrificed everything to help him attend college and to give him a good life.

Now with his head cloudy, he went to reach his water bottle in his backpack. He opened the lid and took a sip. At that moment, he could hear some obnoxiously loud students throwing tennis balls back and forth to each other. He recognized these kids too, they were some (of many) of the lovely visitors his roommate had over most nights. Suddenly in the blink of an eye, Levi’s water bottle spilled all over his laptop, a tennis ball on the floor next to him, and some worried voices approaching him. Within seconds, the laptop started to steam and the screen went black.

His laptop was fried, he determined. He felt heat start to rise inside of him. 

“Oh my god, man. I am so sorry,” One of the kids said, trying to hold back a laugh. 

“Yeah, man. We didn’t mean to.”

Levi took a deep breath and stood up. These kids… were gonna pay.

He closed his broken laptop and stood up. These kids were much taller than him, but looked to be easily intimidated by Levi’s presence. 

“Do you have the money to pay for this?” He sneered, getting very close to their faces. 

“Eh… no, but we have jobs! We can pay you back over time,” One of the kids trailed off. They seemed to be intimidated by the short man. “You live in 112 right?”

Levi nodded, his face heating up with anger. “This laptop cost me a lot of money.”

“We get it, man! We said we’re sorry,” the other kid explained. “We’ll pay you back or whatever.”

“Tch,” Levi clicked. He was extremely pissed. These kids should not be throwing balls at each other in the hallway. Also, they spilled his water which made a mess. “Which room are you both in?” They responded with 118. The one kid explained they get paid on the 15th and 30th of each month. Luckily, their pay day was 4 days away.

“I’ll stop by Tuesday, the 16th,” Levi decided, before gathering his things and heading to the stairs. He began to walk through the campus. Fuck, now where was he gonna go? How was he gonna find his topics? His computer was fucked. Putting it in rice wouldn’t have helped. He was so occupied having a debate with himself about where to research, he almost missed it. If he looked the other way or even blinked in that moment, he wouldn’t have seen it. It was the campus library. No, not the campus library, but a campus library. It blended into the surroundings, hidden from the passerbyers. There was a sign in the window “We’re Open!”. 

The library was small, to say the least. It was old fashioned, which contrasted the modern aesthetic of the university. It was a small, dark brown, wooden building with four-pane windows. The door was a lighter shade of brown. He decided it was easier to check out this little library instead of walking another 10 minutes to get to the main library. He didn’t have time to waste. He had to get started with his paper right away. He walked up to the door and opened it. When he did, a little bell rang at the doorway. 

“Just a minute!” A woman’s voice called from the back. Levi decided to wander around. There were many books crammed on the shelves. There were two computers on each side when he walked in. They looked out of place, considering they were very modern compared to the architecture of the library itself. The books were all shades of bright, vibrant colors. It was strange. From the outside, it seemed creepy and gloomy. Once he walked in, it was very cozy. The dark walls of the library contrasted the beautiful colors of the books.

Then, he saw the woman come out. She came up to the desk. He expected an elderly lady with her glasses on a chain, but he assumed this woman was a student. She was a young woman who wore thin oval glasses and her brown hair thrown up in a messy half-up-half-down ponytail. 

“Hi!” The woman said. “How can I help you?”

“I want to use a computer, please,” He announced. He glanced at her nametag which hung like a necklace around her neck. “Hange” was the name on the tag. It was strange and unordinary, but it had a nice ring to it. The name seemed to suit her.

“Sure! You are allowed up to two hours a day,” Hange explains. “You can choose whichever computer you’d like.”

The computers were unoccupied. In fact, the entire library seemed vacant except for him and the employee. 

“Does anyone actually come here?” Levi asked, setting his stuff down next to a desk, and looking her way. She looked like someone who would work at a library. 

The brunette chuckled. “You are my third visitor today!” She exclaimed proudly. It was already about 3pm. He remembered the sign in the front says “12pm-6pm weekdays”. 

Levi chuckled silently, air huffed out his nose. “How do you stay in business?”

“Well, the university thinks it’s good to have a small library in the outskirts of the campus so students have access to books and computers because the main campus library is in the center of the plaza. Sometimes we get about ten people a day, and sometimes they don’t even take anything out. Sometimes I wonder how…” She began to ramble now. She definitely has not had anyone else visit her today.

She was starting to get on his nerves. It’s been 20 minutes since he arrived, and she was still talking. He zoned out until she caught his attention.

“Hey,” She said. “What’s your name? I have to track whoever comes in to use the computers.” 

Why? No one else comes in. He noticed her clipboard with the sign-ins was blank.

“Levi Ackerman,” He announced. She scribbled his name down. “Okay, it’s 3:30 now, so you have till 5:30 if needed.” She pointed to the clock with her pen as she explained. He nodded and proceeded to walk towards the table with the computer he claimed. He sat down and began working.

-

He was an hour into his research when he finally threw his hands up in the air in frustration. He still couldn’t think of a topic. He groaned aloud.

Hange was leaning against the main desk, her nose stuck in a book. “How Trees Communicate” was the title. When she heard the young man groan, she looked up. 

“Is everything okay?” She asked, peering over her book at him.

“Yeah, yeah,” He mumbled. “Fine…”

Hange raised an eyebrow. She placed her bookmark at her spot, then strolled around the desk and walked over to him.

“What are you working on?” She asked, sitting in the seat next to him and put her hands on her knees, looking at him curiously. He scoffs. It was none of her business, he thought to himself. And it’s an invasion of privacy.

He was frustrated and desperate. Hoping for a miracle, he managed to tell her anyways.

 “I need a topic for my paper and I can’t think of any…” Levi began. “It needs to be based on pharmaceuticals, my major. It also needs scientific evidence to back up my research…”

She was fully absorbed in what he had to say. She was bored, so helping Levi would’ve been something to do at least. Besides, Levi was in luck. She was an avid reader, always reading about anything and everything. She was studying plants and botanicals, but she found herself frequently taking out books about cooking; religion; war; animals; and medical topics including surgery, pathophysiology, anatomy, and pharmaceuticals.

“What about how diuretics affect blood pressure?” Hange suggested. Levi was taken aback. His eyebrows furrowed, and he shook his head in confusion. “Or if anti-alzheimer drugs actually help slow the progression of Alzheimer’s? Why do you take different medications during certain stages of Alzheimer’s disease? Or how do anti-seizure medications work? That is something I ask myself all the time. You take this little pill and BOOM! You’ll be fine, no seizure! Oh, oh, oh! Or, how certain medications cause certain adverse effects? How come so many medications cause anxiety?” Her eyes started to light up as she talked. They were a dark brown, but when she started to talk, they seemed to morph to a captivating hazel. He felt he could see every color in her eyes. He saw brown and green and the little lines of her iris. Hange’s hands would move as she talked, and her smile grew wide. She couldn’t keep still. She was getting excited by coming up with all these ideas. She seemed so passionate and so willing to help; he was overwhelmed by her.

Levi was in shock. His day started off horrible. Now, he was almost glad his laptop was fucked. This woman was making his mind race with ideas. 

“Are you okay?” Hange asked for the second time within his visit there. Levi nodded slowly. “I am just… How do you know all that? Are you a med student?”

Hange chuckled and waved her hand at him. “No… I am a bookworm! Also, my mom is a nurse, so she used to teach me about nursing stuff all the time. Oh! You could write about the pathophysiology of anticholinergics! Or beta blockers! Or how the body reacts to the use of long-term steroids?”

Levi took a deep breath. He felt euphoric. He had been casually trying to think of topics since last week. All of a sudden, this woman can just ramble off hundreds of ideas? Levi smiled visibly.

“Actually… I really like the final topic you suggested. About steroids.” Levi admitted.

Hange smiled back at him. “Great! I can try to help you find some sources or books.” She directed him to open a new tab and to go to a certain database. “This is where you can find reliable sources. Over here,” She pointed to his screen at the left side. “You can add filters. You can change how old or new you’d like the sources to be, filter out certain words or phrases, et cetera.” She had been closer to him now; she scooted her chair closer so she could explain the database to him. It was hard not to look at her as she explained. She was captivating.

Levi began to type in words for his topic.

“Steroids”, “Long-term use”, “Cushing’s Disease”, “Addison’s Disease”, “Addisonian Crisis”, “Pathophysiology”.

He felt like he was finally getting somewhere. He was finally making progress.

-

As Levi was walking home, he couldn’t get his mind off that girl. He decided to brainstorm about his topic in his room once he got there. The thing was, though, he couldn’t think of any more ideas. He found it funny. Of course he was full of ideas and inspiration when he visited that library, but now he’s void of any.

-

Levi’s weekends were no different than the weekdays. He made it appoint to visit the library again the next day, Saturday. It was a sunny, cool Saturday morning. Levi had inspiration to write. He needed a computer and Hange’s ideas. When he arrived, it seemed busy. There were three other patrons at the library.  He recognized Hange right away, helping a tall blonde man with a big nose. He wondered if she was the only employee there. The man she was helping was taller than her, so she had to reach up on her toes to point to items. She was an average height, but this action made her seem shorter than she actually was.

Hange looked his way and greeted him with a toothy smile. Levi waved at her and started to head down one of the aisles of books. He was in the nonfiction section, but was lost. For now, he just casually browsed the section, but quickly got impatient. He needed Hange’s help to find books for this paper. He heard her laugh with the patron. Maybe he’s a friend, he thought to himself. Her laugh was airy and full of heart. It seemed genuine and passionate. Levi felt an urge to make her laugh, too.

She finally made her way over to him. Levi was looking down at a book when she caught his eye. “Hey, stranger!” She greeted him with a wave. “Whatcha looking for?” She placed her hands on her hips.

“I’m trying to find some sources for my paper. Steroids is the topic,” Levi explained.

“Oh, right. I remember! After you left last night, I tried to look for some books for your topic,” She said. She was trying to help me? Levi thought to himself.

She curled her finger in a “follow me” gesture and he did. She brought him to another aisle or two over from where they were. “These are the 600’s, where you’ll most likely find what you’re looking for. I found a book or two about Addison’s disease, but it’s more of a memoir. You can look around though if you’d like. Anything in the 610’s should be right up your alley.” She explained as if she was going to leave, but she didn’t. Hange looked for books with him. 

After a moment, she made a noise. “Look at this!” She exclaimed. She reached next to him to reach for a book. She was on her toes again. “Mmmm,” She moaned as she tried to reach. “Actually, I’m gonna get the step stool. I don’t think I can reach it.” Quickly, she left and came back with the stool. It looked unreliable, but Levi was sure he’d be able to prevent any accident from occurring. Hange placed it on the ground and stepped up on it, grabbing the book with ease. She stepped down with the book in her hand. This book had a white cover with a blue label and was titled “Coping with Prednisone”. Levi was surprised she even knew what prednisone was. 

“Here!” She reached it out for him to grab. He took it and looked at her face. She had that same look in her eyes. “Did you want to use the computer?” He nodded and she led him towards the front of the library. The library was small from the outside, but very deep inside. It reminded him of a forest. 

“I got your name, don’t worry,” She said, clicking her pen and writing his name down on the sheet. 

“Oops!” Hange made a quick grimace. “I added an ‘e’ at the end. I’ll just cross it out.” The statement sounded like it was addressed to herself rather than to anyone else. She crossed out the extra letter.

“Ackermane”. Levi was gonna attempt to make her laugh.

“If you thought I looked like a horse you could’ve just said so.” 

Mane, horse mane. Get it?

It felt like forever before Hange responded. She looked up at him, starting to laugh. It was a short but audible laugh. Her head nodded back and she smiled. Her cheeks turned pink and her eyes lit up for a moment. It made his heart skip a beat. It was a bad joke yet she still laughed. She chuckled. Giggled? No. Laughed lightly. Chortled? Maybe that’s the right word. Whatever it was, he wanted to do it more, maybe even more than that.

He followed her to the computers. The blonde guy she was helping earlier was on one computer. She led him to the two computers across from the other ones and sat down in the chair next to him.

“What are you doing?” Levi asked, placing the book she found for him on the table.

Her eyebrows raised, and after a moment she reacted. She waved her hands in front of her.

“I’m sorry! I thought you may have needed help. I should get back to work anyway. I gotta go through a new box of books that just came in.”

Levi looked up at her. Is she blushing? he asked himself.

“I’ll let you know if I need help.” Levi responded. She smiled at him before quickly walking away.

-

He started to find some evidence-based practice articles about how steroids can cause long-term side effects, especially if stopped abruptly. He made sure to keep the tabs available. He’d have to cite them later. Levi’s mind was racing with words and sentences and ideas. He had to get them down on paper. He opened Documents on the computer and started typing away.

The clicking of the keyboard soothed him. He was a pretty fast typer, he didn’t make many mistakes either. The library around him began to become quiet as his typing got louder and he got deeper in thought. Before he knew it, his two hours were up. He felt someone approach him from his right.

“Hey,” Hange said, gently tapping the table next to him. “It’s 2pm. I gotta close up.”

Levi snapped out of his focused trance with a quick head shake. “Right. Sorry.” He pulled out a flash drive from his backpack and plugged it into the computer. He transferred his document. “I got the first page done.”

Levi asked himself for a brief moment why he was sharing this information with someone he just met. Maybe since she helped him, he felt she should know.

“That’s great! It seemed like you were really focused,” Hange said, walking away to shut off some lights. Only then did he notice the white noise of the overhead lights quickly dissipate. The room buzzed with silence now. Levi and Hange were alone in the library. Suddenly, Levi felt nervous. He watched Hange walk around the room frantically, making sure to shut off all the lights and computers. She grabbed a bag. The bag was a fabric material with a patchwork design that had a long strap that hung on on her shoulder. Maybe she made it herself. She grabbed her big mess of keys and walked towards him.

“Ready?” She said. He nodded and walked outside, holding the door for her. She thanked him, locking the door behind her. They began to walk down the street slowly. 

“Want to grab lunch?” Hange asked, looking at him. Levi looked back at her. She looked pretty.

“Sure, I can eat.” Hange chuckled at that. He didn’t try, but it made her happy for a brief moment. He seemed nervous but she was too.

They decided to eat at a cute restaurant on campus called “Life in Paradis”. It was a small, dainty place with a green and yellow checkered awning. The building was made of yellow brick, and the door was bright green. There were flower pots outside on the windowsill. Again, this place seemed totally out of place in the modern aesthetic of the university. 

“This place is adorable!” Hange exclaimed. “I love the food here. You’ll love it too. They have all kinds of food here.” Levi felt a smile grow on his face. The way she talked made his heart flutter. She was always so passionate. They entered and got a table for two. This is not a date, Levi kept telling himself. Then why were his cheeks red?

They sat down and looked through a menu. Levi wasn’t extremely hungry even though he hadn’t had anything but tea this morning. He peered over his menu to look at the girl. Her hair was different today, he determined. Today all her hair was in a ponytail, and it was higher on her head. She wore a light yellow button-down with a long, light blue cardigan. Hange caught him staring at her and blushed.

“What would you two like to order?” The waitress asked him first.

“I’m gonna get a sandwich, I think,” He said, crossing his arms across his chest. “Turkey sub.” “I think I’m gonna get a chicken caesar salad,” Hange said. He nodded, grabbed the menus, and walked away.

Hange began to talk about how beautiful the flowers outside the restaurant were. They were all variants of pink, purple, yellow, and red. She described the petals and the leaves, the flowers’ origins, and all the meanings of the flowers. Levi wasn’t annoyed by her tangent this time. He actively listened to this girl talk about what fascinated her so much. He found it soothing. It made him wonder how her brain can contain all the information she was spewing at him. He enjoyed watching the way her eyes lit up when she talked. The beautiful green that blossomed at the bottom of her irises when the light hit her eyes at the right angle. The way her lips curled into a big smile when she talked to him. Her cheeks flush to a light pink when she describes the petals of the flowers or how flowers were used to express feelings when words cannot. It made his heart race. 

“Levi,” Hange said. Her affect was the opposite of earlier when she was rambling. She wore a frown on her face, feeling guilty.“I’ve been rambling… sorry. It’s such a bad habit of mine. I can talk for hours and hours.”

“Don’t apologize, four-eyes,” Levi replied, leaning his elbows and forearms on the table in a crossed position. Hange smiled at him. Levi meant it. She shouldn’t apologize for talking, especially if it’s about something she loves. The food had arrived at the table. They ate. Levi felt the need to open up to her about something. He already learned so much about her, and her presence made him feel like he can open up. 

“I like to run,” Levi said abruptly. Hange looked at him intently, chewing on a forkful of salad. “I don’t do it competitively or anything, but I enjoy running. I try to run once or twice a day.” Hange’s eyebrows raised and she nodded in agreement.

“That’s awesome!” She smiled again at him. “I like to run too. I’m really slow and get tired easily, but I enjoy feeling the wind in my hair and feeling my heart pound.” She took a bite of her meal again. Levi nodded and began to eat too. This sandwich was really good.

-

After talking some more about hobbies and school, they both finished their meal. The waiter brought over the check. Hange reached into her pocket for her wallet.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Levi asked. Hange furrowed her brows.

“I invited you out to lunch. I will pay,” Hange determined, her wallet now in her hands.

“No,” Levi said too quickly. “I will pay. It’s the least I can do. You helped me with my paper after all.”

The bickering lasted a very long minute. Before she got to think of the idea, Levi grabbed the checkbook and shoved his card inside before handing it to the waiter. Hange looked surprised. She sighed, putting her wallet away.

“Thank you, Levi. But you really didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to.”

In all honesty, Hange didn’t have much money. She worked at that library four times a week, but the money she made went towards paying off her tuition. She really wanted to treat this man, her new friend. She wasn’t sure if he thought the same way about her. Did he consider her his friend? She felt slightly embarrassed. She did most of the talking and felt like she was annoying him. Maybe he just wanted to pay so she would lay off. 

But the truth is, Levi felt the opposite way of how she was thinking. He was interested to hear more from her. He was addicted to the way his heart raced when he saw her. 

-

Over the next couple of days, Levi would go to that library whenever he was available. He knew it was closed on Sunday, so he went Monday and Tuesday to the library. Fortunately, he got his first batch of money from the brats that fried his computer. He received $100. Of course it was not enough, but it was a start. Wednesday the 17th came around. This specific day was a wild card. The weather was unpredictable. Levi entered the library just in time; it had started to downpour. The little bell rang as he entered the library. To his surprise, Hange was not working that day. There was a boy behind the counter who was tall and had a brown bowl cut hairstyle.  He almost thought about turning around and leaving when he realized she wasn’t there. The rain charged towards the earth viciously, so he decided to seek shelter in the small library. It almost looked like a hurricane. He felt his mood change into a bad one. He didn’t remember to ask how often she worked. 

“Hi there!” The man said. His name tag read “Moblit”. That’s a dumb name.

“I wanna use a computer,” Levi muttered, walking up to the main desk.

“Okay. Name?” Moblit grabbed the clipboard and a pen.

“Levi Ackerman.”

“Oh, I see you’ve been here before. A lot, actually.” Levi scoffed and rolled his eyes at his comment. He turned around, picked a computer, and sat down. He felt really stupid to not ask her about her schedule.

The two hours he spent working on his paper was incredibly slow. He didn’t get much done that day. He had writer’s block. He was almost done, so he didn’t worry about it too much. He didn’t know Hange’s schedule. He knew she worked Friday, the day they met; Saturday; Monday, and Tuesday. Maybe she only worked four times a week? Before he knew it, he asked Moblit aloud. It was almost an accident.

“Uh, she’ll be in on Friday,” Moblit replied. He probably couldn’t give out that information to some creep who began visiting daily with an attitude. He muttered a “thanks” before finishing up and heading out. The weather was holding up for now, so he decided to make a run for it. He didn’t say goodbye to Moblit.

He didn’t have an umbrella. The sun was trying to shine through the dark, eerie clouds. It wasn’t trying hard enough. He heard thunder rumbling in the distance.

Levi realized that this girl was all he thought about the past few days. Something about her enticed him. Something about her eyes and her presence drew him towards her. His heart skipped a beat whenever she’d graze his hand on accident, or even when she just talked to him. She made him happy. He hadn’t had too many friends in college. Although they just met last week, he felt a deep connection with her. 

Suddenly, the sun poked through the clouds for a brief moment. The world lit up. It was at that moment he recognized a familiar face. Hange. She was walking towards him. She grinned when she saw him. She wore a fitted black t-shirt and baggy, light blue jeans. 

“Levi!” She exclaimed. “I forgot my jacket in the library, so I came down to get it.” 

“You didn’t tell me you weren’t working today.” Is all Levi said. Once he said it, he realized how creepy it must’ve sounded. A man she just met happens to go to this library to work on his project every day, who happens to come up with multiple reasons to interact with her. Maybe she thought he was a perv.

“Ehh!” She sighed. “I’m sorry! I thought I told you I was off today.” Levi shook his head. The comment itself may have sounded rude, but it wasn’t. She genuinely felt bad. “Walk with me.” Levi followed. Guess not.

“I don’t work Wednesday’s and Thursday’s. Well I’m not supposed to be,” Hange explained. “Mobilt, one of my co-workers, is always calling out sick. So I basically run the place.” They walked towards the library again and entered. 

“Hey, Moblit. How’s it going?” Hange said in a normal tone, heading towards the back of the library. Moblit responded briefly, following Hange. Levi decided to hang back, he figured it was a secure area. He looked around awkwardly.

“Hange, you didn’t tell me you had a boyfriend,” Moblit said, following her towards the back. 

Hange chuckled nervously. “He’s not my boyfriend,” she said bluntly. “He’s just a friend.” Moblit scoffed, rolling his eyes. “If he’s not your boyfriend, how come his mood entirely changed once he saw you?”

Hange found her jacket, folding it over her forearm. “Huh?”

“He was, like, in a bad mood when he came in. He used the computer but he seemed to be pissed or something. Now that he’s with you, he seems… tolerable.”

Hange laughed, feeling her cheeks blush. “It’s nothing like that. People have bad days, you know.��

Hange rolled her eyes and smirked, then headed towards the front of the library. “Ready?” Levi nodded and turned around.

“See you Friday,” Moblit called out. “See ya.” Hange replied.

The two started walking down the street. The air smelt of rain, and the ground was wet from the rain earlier. “Which building is your dorm in?” Hange asked. He was a bit surprised she asked him that, and she was so direct about it.

“Saint Maria,” He replied. She smiled. “Me too! I can’t believe I haven’t seen you around!” The wind picked up and the sky turned darker than before. They both looked up. “If you can’t make it to the library, you can use my desktop in my dorm room,” Hange offered. Levi’s cheeks turned bright red. 

“Thanks, maybe tomorrow I can stop by,” Levi said. It was more of him thinking aloud than a statement. It was too late though, Hange already heard him. He could’ve sworn he didn’t say it aloud.

“That’s fine! I only have a class early tomorrow morning. Come by around 11, okay? My room number is 506.” Levi nodded. Thunder rolled and sounded closer now. They were almost at the dormitory building when it started to downpour. The rain was forcefully coming down on the two. Levi groaned in annoyance. He hated being in the rain. He hated being wet; he hated the wet socks and how gross he felt when it rained. He would’ve started to run to the building to seek cover, but he was taken aback by his new friend.

She was soaked and embracing it. She lifted her head up to face the sky and she laughed. It was loud, happy, genuine, and it took Levi’s breath away. Hange reached her hands out wide and spun around. He saw a strike of lightning light up the sky. He stared at her in awe. His heart swelled. Levi smiled big. After laughing, Hange looked at Levi and shared the look that he wore just a few moments ago. She loved his smile. She wished to make him smile more. She was also determined to make him laugh, too.

She grabbed his hand. “Let’s take cover!” And she pulled him into the dormitory hall. Saint Maria’s hall was beautiful. It had ceiling-to-floor glass pane windows that were always crystal clear. There was a big black modern chandelier that hung from the ceiling. It contained visible light bulbs. Hange secretly loved it. There were the same big, yellow, leather couches in the living room as there were in the study area on his floor. They both wiped their feet off on the big rug in the entryway. 

“I love the rain,” Hange deduced, turning her head to look at him. As if Levi couldn’t tell. Her hand was still holding his. Levi looked up at her. “I like it, too.”

[wyofabdoms]

Undercover I Do - Chapter 7

Characters: Javier Peña x female reader

Summary: While on an undercover assignment posing as a married couple, you are attacked and nearly assaulted. Upon waking, all you remember about Javier Peña is what you remembering seeing from two photographs of the two of you posing as the happily married couple. As you struggle to regain your memories, Javi struggles with his own feelings for you.

Rating: Mature (Eventual smut)

Warnings: Memories of attempted sexual assault, fake/pretend relationship, married and undercover trope, temporary amnesia, injury, swearing, soft Javi, feelings, I have no idea how amnesia really works, brief mention of masturbation, Javi reads poetry...did you know that?!?!?...me neither!

Word Count: 4407 (again....Whoopsie!)

Notes: A trip to the office in an attempt to jog your memories ends up revealing more about Javier Peña then you expected. Plus, a trip to the farmer's market knocks some things loose and a thunderstorm brings you and Javi closer.

Read on Ao3

It had been a week since you’d come home from the hospital.

During that week, there had been so little success in regaining your memories save for those brief hopeful moments with Javi the previous weekend.  Javi had done as much work from home as he could this past week; when he did have to go in to the office, he usually returned with stacks or boxes of paperwork, spreading out on the coffee table or in the kitchen like now, grumping that he didn’t want to leave you on your own for too long if he could help it.  The time in the alone stretched on endlessly and you always felt a jolt of happiness when you heard the key in the lock and your husband strode in on a cloud of cigarette smoke, faded aftershave and cologne with (more often than not) a frustrated scowl decorating his handsome face.  You always took note of how that scowl slipped from his face when he greeted you, though, and that moment always made you smile.

The previous day you’d joined Javi at work for a short while.  You had discussed at dinner the night before that maybe more familiar surroundings would jar something loose...after all, Javi had said, the two of you usually spent more time at the office than you ever really did in your apartment.  You eagerly agreed.  If nothing else you were excited for a change of scenery.  

It had been more awkward than anything, really and you were disappointed that nothing short-term had seemed to come back to you.  Feistl and Van Ness had both greeted you warmly, inquiring as to whether you’d gotten the flowers they’d sent.  Both younger men had kindly remarked that you looked like you were doing well and then proceeded to lapse into an uncomfortable silence, glancing from one another and then Javi before quickly scurrying off to complete some menial task.  Dixon had found you as well, and had seemed a bit on edge when she had made small talk with you.  You simply chalked it up to stress, but you had seen her pull Javi a short distance away and speak furtively to him, clearly irritated with something he had said or done.  Javi’s brows had lowered over his dark eyes when the older woman had moved away and he had ushered you into his office, telling you he needed to pop into a quick meeting...shouldn’t take more than fifteen, twenty minutes and did you want to wait here or should he get a car to take you home?  

You’d been happy to settle yourself onto the worn leather couch, but as the time ticked by you grew antsy and started pacing around your husband’s office, tracing the pens on the desk, sitting in his chair and twirling in it absentmindedly, aimlessly gazing at the maps and photographs on the walls and bulletin boards.  As you wandered, the corner of your jacket caught on something on the edge of the desk, pulling it off and sending a stack of papers fluttering to the floor.  You cursed, then bent to re-stack the papers, hoping they had not been in any kind of order. You saw a thin, navy blue book also on the floor and reached to pick it up.

Rumi: The Book of Love: Poems of Ecstasy and Longing

You were struck for a moment: what was Javi doing with a book of love poems at work? You sat down in his desk chair again. Flipping open the small book you noticed a name written neatly in a woman’s handwriting on the inside cover: Sofia Flores

A small piece of paper, worn with time was tucked between the cover and the title page.  You carefully open it and read a small message in the same writing as the name:

Even though this marriage didn’t work out, my sweet Javi, remember: I will always love you. Xoxo

Your stomach clenched.  “This marriage” hadn’t worked out?  You felt like your mouth was suddenly sandpaper and you started to close the book and place it back on the desk when another loose paper fluttered out from the middle pages...one of many pieces of paper stuck there you realized as you flipped to the middle of the book of poetry, finding two with corners dogeared.  Two poems on opposite pages bracketed a small collection of what appeared to be newspaper clippings. The first poem read:

“Lovers find secret places inside this violent world where they make transactions with beauty.”

And:

“I want to see you. Know your voice. Recognize you when you first come ’round the corner. Sense your scent when I come into a room you’ve just left. Know the lift of your heel, the glide of your foot. Become familiar with the way you purse your lips then let them part, just the slightest bit, when I lean in to your space and kiss you. I want to know the joy of how you whisper “more”

Your breath caught at the simplicity and beauty of the poems, and it made your heart ache that your husband even possessed a book of poetry, much less one filled with such lovely words. You started to look through the clippings flattened between these two poems and were surprised when you noticed they all seemed to be about you.  

There were five total: one from what appeared to be an interoffice newsletter highlighting your work as a successful agent in a mostly male dominated field.  The short article included a photograph of you taken several years ago when you had graduated from Quantico.  The other four were in Spanish and had clearly come from local Bogota papers.  Each had grainy black and white photos of you (and two with Javi along with some other DEA agents) at different locations around the city taken during the last two years as you had worked to help unravel the mess that was Columbian drug trafficking.  In one, you and Javi and Feistl stood together surveying a map spread on the hood of a Jeep, most likely either pre- or post- op.  In another, you were escorting a minor drug crony from a building, his hands behind his back, your hand firmly on his shoulder and your torso covered in a sturdy tac vest.  The others were similar and at the bottom of the small pile of clippings, you found a polaroid photo.

It was another picture of you, but in this one you were sitting amongst a small group of co-workers.   Despite the others in the picture, you were framed at the center, clearly the focus of the photographer.  You remembered this night from over a year ago: It was Van Ness’’s birthday and you and several other colleagues had pitched in to buy him a Polaroid camera like the one that would have taken this picture.  It had been a good night out, a fun dinner with margaritas and beer flowing.  As everyone got more silly and giggly and loose, the camera had been passed around and each person had taken a turn snapping a photo.  You vaguely remembered glancing across the table just as the snap from this photo being taken had reached your ears and noticed Peña lowering the camera from his face, removing the picture from the roller as it slid from the device, growling something to the person next to him as he passed the camera. You hadn’t thought anything of it, thinking your partner had just taken a wide shot of you and your colleagues across the table. All of the photos had been collected at the end of the evening and presented to Van Ness, who had spread them all out on the table for everyone to giggle and admire one another’s silly faces and poses.  

The realization struck you that your husband must have kept the photo he had taken that night, a photo with you at it’s center.  It was worn, smudged along the edges and showing creases and a small tear in one corner.  Clearly it was handled regularly.

“Hey.”  The gruff rasp of your husband’s voice startled you and you looked up at him guilty.  “You ready to get outta here…?”  He stopped short when he saw the book in your hand, the clippings on the desk, the photograph in your other hand.

“I’m sorry!”  Your first instinct was to apologize; clearly this wasn’t something he wanted people to see. “I didn’t…” You quickly moved from being apologetic to feeling tears well up in your eyes as you remembered: “even though this marriage didn’t work out”...from “Sofia”.  You looked up at him.  “Javi?”  You could only choke out his name by way of question.

Javi’s face transformed to worry when he heard your voice say his name.  He moved quickly to crouch next to you in his desk chair.

“Hey, hey...it’s ok.  What is it?  Whatsa matter?”  He put a callused hand along your cheek, searching your eyes for an explanation.  You could only look back down at the book in your hands.

“Is our marriage over?”  You asked him, tears starting to fall.  His brows came together in confusion and he spoke softly.

“What?  What do you...what do you mean, sweetheart?”  You flipped back to the front cover of the book, smoothing out the note from “Sofia”.  

“Who’s Sofia Flores?” You held your breath, waiting for him to look guilty, ashamed, abashed at being found out, but you saw realization flutter across his eyes and his face relaxed; he released a puff of air...almost a small laugh, and he stood, leaning carefully on the desk next to you, wiping a hand across his face.

“No.  No, sweetheart...it’s not what you think.”  He looked at you for a moment, studying you carefully.  “Do you remember...do you remember me telling you about Lorraine?”  You nod and the next instant, you feel relief come over you.  Lorraine: his former fiancé back in Texas.  He had told you about her once, one late night at the office when you had both sipped a little too much whiskey and started swapping stories about miserable past relationships.  Lorraine: who had always put him down, made him feel like he was never good enough, a piece of shit, who demeaned the things he had found interesting.  You had never met the woman, but you remember feeling that night like you had never hated anyone as much as you hated her for treating Javi so poorly.  You also remember thinking to yourself that night how incredibly wrong someone could be about another human being.  But then again, you hadn’t been engaged to Javier Peña….yet.  Javi sees it click in your face and continues.

“Sofia Flores was my mom.  She gave me this,” he gently takes the book from you, “right after I left Lorraine...right before I came here.  She taught herself English with this.” He held the book up, pride sparking behind his eyes at the memory of his mother.  You nodded, remembering him telling you how she had passed during his first few months in Columbia; it had been sudden and he hadn’t even known she was sick until it was too late.  He hadn’t been able to get back in time to say goodbye…You noticed him swallow hard as he saw the articles about you spread on the desk.  

“What about…”you gesture to the clippings, the photo in your hand. “What about all of these?  Why do you have all this stuff about me stuck in here?  Why don’t you keep these at home?” He looked uncomfortable for a moment, like he was caught at something somehow.

“I, uh….I just...I had ‘em tucked away from...before we were…” He stopped himself, seeming to think carefully about what to say next.  Then he looked from the articles to you and then away again, almost shy.  “I guess...I had a little crush on you when we were partners and...I just never took ‘em out of there after...things changed.”  He took the photo from you, looking at it for a moment, then back at you; for a moment he looked like a little boy waiting to be yelled at for breaking a window with his baseball.  You smiled up at him and his face relaxed, returning the smile with a small one of his own.  He cleared his throat and straightened from the desk, returning the articles and picture back to their spot in the middle of the book and quickly depositing the book into a desk drawer.  He held his hand out to you and pulled you to your feet.  “Hungry?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you said, taking a step closer to him and keeping hold of his hand for a moment when he let go.  He looked surprised by your closeness, then smiled down at you again, carefully.  You stood on your tiptoes and carefully kissed him; a chaste, quick kiss lasting only a moment or two, but you felt a current dance between your connected lips, like sparks from an incorrectly attached jumper cable.  His eyes stayed closed for several seconds after you broke the kiss and settled back onto your feet; you smiled at how in awe of the taste of you he seemed to be.  Your smile turned into a grin when he opened his eyes and met your gaze, smiling softly back at you.  “I’m starving, actually.”  

You slid your arm through your husband’s as the two of you left the office and headed for a late lunch.

****

You’re a fuckin’ moron, Peña! Javier had thought to himself instantly when he had walked back into his office and seen her sitting at his desk with the Rumi book in her hand. He’d panicked when he’d heard her say his name and seen the tears in her eyes.  He’d quickly realized the confusion and had breathed easy knowing she hadn’t been angry with him.

 Once more he felt like a creep when he realized she had found the articles and picture he had kept tucked away inside it.  He saw her everyday in clearer situations: her beautiful face on the phone, tongue between her lips, determining if a tip is legitimate; listening through headphones as she giggled trying to seduce an informant; watching beads of sweat drip down her neck and the sound of her heavy pants after she’s finished running down a narco in the dusty streets.  

He’s not proud to admit that he has thrown his imagination to any one of these memories on the occasion when he would not seek out a woman to distract him and he had instead unbuttoned his jeans and pumped himself to the thought of his partner. That seemed to have been happening more and more in recent months, but he hadn’t ever used those photos for THAT.

He kept these for the even more frequent occasion when he would close his office door, stare at her face and reread one of those poems for the millionth time, feeling when he did a balloon expand inside his chest with yearning for her...aching to hold her close to him and whisper those lines in her ear; truths about how he felt about her.  

Now, he refused to acknowledge how much it made his heart sing as they walked through the outdoor market a few minute’s walk from their apartment.  They had returned home and had lunch, no new memories having made an appearance with exposure to their place of work.  She had been frustrated by and he had suggested they go for a walk, get out of the apartment some more...it was a beautiful day after all.

Now, they wandered past the tables and stalls of brightly colored pineapples, papayas, bananas, peppers and avocados, stopping occasionally to buy something for dinner or pausing for her to admire a woven bag.  She spoke Spanish to the merchants easily, a good sign, he thought, that her long term memories were strong.  

He discreetly admired his partner’s profile as she stopped to look at a bright display of flowers, enquiring about price from the kind, toothless, stooped older woman manning the stall.  She paid the lovely worker and put her nose to the large white bouquet of petals and Javi felt his heart nearly stop.  

She was so beautiful.

...It took him a moment to realize something was wrong, but when he noticed her stiffen and her brow furrow, he was next to her in an instant, his hand on her elbow, quietly saying her name.  She looked at him...but didn’t see him for a few moments, her gaze was elsewhere, seeing something else.  He knew she was remembering something.

“I remember…”she started, blinking her eyes and looking back down at the flowers in her hands. “Plumeria…” she said quietly.  “I remember we were next to...a swimming pool?  You and I?  It was nighttime.”  

Javi knew exactly what she had remembered.  He gulped, saying nothing, not wanting to distract her from remembering. She continued following the thread of memory the scent of the flowers had unlocked.

“We were…” Her face flushed suddenly and she glanced up at him, then away again almost immediately.  “...together.  You...had me up against…” she gulped, the blush in her face turning a deeper scarlet.  Javi remembered, too.

They’d made an early exit from Ortiz’s dinner party; she had feigned a headache.  They had believed Ortiz’s lab was beneath his pool, the entrance through the pool house in the back of his home.  While everyone else had been occupied with the forth course and an unknown number of drinks, the two of them had slipped back around the premises, creeping along the sparkling pool, trying to find some clue to get them into the lab, something they could use to get a warrant.  

Javi had heard the noise from the guards making their rounds first, and he had yanked his partner by the elbow, pressing her back up against one of the plumeria trees, shoving one knee between her legs, gripping her ass with one hand and holding her head carefully with the other as he shoved his mouth against hers.  She had fallen into the ruse seamlessly, recognizing instantly what he was doing.  Her hands gripped fistfuls of his hair, one leg coming up to wrap around his waist, drawing her skirt up and giving his hips more access to the space between her legs.  

Even though it was only pretend, he hadn’t been able to stop himself from growing hard...being so close to her sex he had found himself grinding himself into her without thinking, eliciting a small moan from her mouth.  He had torn his lips away and begun devouring her neck, making her gasp into the thick, flower scented air and signaling their location to the guards.  He had snaked his hand up the front of her dress and pulled down, releasing her breast to the cool night air.  She had pulled his head down and thrust her groin along the hard outline of his cock and he had gladly taken the pert nipple into his mouth, relishing in the sensation the soft pebble made between the gentle ministrations of his teeth.  

“Perdón por interrumpir, Señor Sanchez,” The two of them had sprung apart, reacting to Javier’s pseudonym, playing up the caught couple.  Despite the act, though, Javi had looked at her as she’d straightened her dress, running a hair through her hair and he couldn’t help admire her swollen lips from his kisses and the flush on her cheeks.  He had seen something in your eyes, reflecting what he felt himself.  

That hadn’t been all fake.

“I...I don’t remember anything other than...us...against the tree.”  Her voice snapped him back out of the memory; she was staring at the flowers in her hand sadly, grasping for more of the memory.  

He didn’t particularly want her to remember what had happened next.

That night they had been found out.  They had been followed back to their “home” and both beaten, separated for a time in different rooms.  He had heard her yelling and had heard over and over the sound of crashes and fists and palms meeting flesh amidst the sounds of the same happening to him.  He had shouted, too, wanting her to know he was still there, he was still with her, they were still in it together.  Later, after the sicarios had given them both a rest, they had been reunited when they were dragged into “their” bedroom and secured to their respective places, whispering to one another, made to wait through the dark hours of the early morning...until Ortiz’s men had returned when the sun had come up.  

The rest, he didn’t want to think about.

“Well…” His voice was gruff from the thought of how close he had come to losing her that day.  “That’s something.  That was...recent...just a few weeks ago.”  She looked at him curiously, clearly able to see that he was reacting differently to the memory of them kissing passionately beneath a plumeria tree.  She said his name, a question filling the sound.  He looked at her and forced a small smile.  “That’s good.” He said quietly, reaching for her hand.  “C’mon. Let’s go home.”  

+

+

+

+

Javier laid awake in the darkness of the living room, trying not to think about that night again for the millionth time.  The blanket was scratchy on his bare chest; he kicked it off of him and lay there, listening to the sound of the pounding rain outside, the occasional flash of lightning illuminating the apartment, thunder crashing and rumbling loudly.  He hated that he would always have that memory of her, calling out, yelling in terror and panic.  

He sat up….had he dozed off?  He thought he had heard her screaming his name again, just like she had from the other room that fateful night.

Then he heard it again.

“JAVI!!”

He was down the hall and next to her on the bed faster than he could take a breath.  She was curled in a ball, the covers soaked from sweat and kicked off of her, shaking furiously.  In the light from a flash of lightning, he saw that her eyes were closed tightly, her face contorted into a terrified mask.  She was having a nightmare... 

...and was calling out for him.

He carefully placed his hands on her shoulders, gently nudging her, not wanting to frighten her more upon waking, but wanting desperately to rescue her from the terror of her dream.  She screamed as she bolted upright, nearly knocking her head into his.  He gripped her shoulders firmly as her arms flailed out around her, fighting against him.

“Heyheyhey...easy, it’s me….its just me.  It’s Javi.”  She recognized him after a moment, and he continued to murmur that he was there, that she was ok, that he had her, that it had just been a bad dream; she flung herself into his arms.  He held her against him, soothing her, whispering to her like she was a child, feeling her body shake.  He felt warm, wet drops on his chest and knew she was crying.  He gripped his arms around her more tightly, trying with all of his might to will her peace, a feeling of being safe.  

They stayed that way for a long time, him stroking her hair, murmuring into her ear, rocking her gently against him.  Finally, he felt her take a shaky breath and she whispered against his chest:

“It felt so real.  I was tied to a bed and...there was a man...he was trying to…” her voice choked into a sob once more and he felt the tears start to wet his chest again.

“Shhhhh….shhhhhh.  It’s ok.” His voice was hoarse from sleep, cigarettes, fear...memories.  “You’re safe now.  I’ve got you.” He buries his face in her hair and breathes her name. “I won’t let anything happen to you.  I’ve got you.”

More time passes.  Her breathing settles and her tears dry, but he continues to hold her.  He feels the tension in her body release itself, little by little and she takes a deep, shaky breath before pulling back to look at him.  The room is still dark and the rain still pours down outside, but the thunder has passed, is getting softer. 

“It was just a nightmare.” She whispers, almost to herself.

He can’t bring himself to correct her; that it was a memory.  Not tonight, he thinks.

She’s staring into his chest, appearing to think about something carefully.  He moves to unwrap himself from her, to settle her back into bed, but she grips his forearms firmly, stopping him from pulling away.

“Stay.”  She breathes and he almost doesn’t hear it.  He thinks for a moment, telling himself he shouldn’t.  It’s not a good idea.  But then she lifts her eyes to meet his and in the near darkness he sees them sparkle and she whispers: “Please.  Stay with me.”

He doesn’t say anything.  He just carefully bores her backwards until she’s lying on her back, her head on her pillow. He hovers above her, gazing down at her like a lover...like a husband might do before kissing his wife and bringing her to ecstasy…

...He shifts himself to lie next to her, behind her and he pulls her back against his chest, feeling her legs move to tangle with his.   He reaches down to straighten the sheets and pulls them over top of both of them, then wraps his arms around her.  He listens to her breathing get heavier and slow and he’s sure she must be asleep.  Just as he thinks about closing his own eyes, she turns and rolls to face him, wrapping her own arms around him, too and burying her face in his neck.  He’s sure she can feel his pulse pounding frantically, but she simply sighs softly, her breath skimming across his skin.  Her breathing slows and deepens once again.  She’s asleep.

Javi sighs, remembering the taste of her lips during that sweet, innocent kiss in his office earlier that day. Closing his own eyes, he buries his face in her hair, drifting off to sleep with the weight of her in his arms.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 8,  Chapter 9, Chapter 10,  Chapter 11,  Chapter 12,  Chapter 13

[snapefiction]

#4. Snow - Snapemas Challenge

A/N: Day 4 of #Snapemas! This one is a bit shorter but I hope you still enjoy it! :)

Idea from @deepperplexity ´s Writing Challenge ! Check her Writings and the other Snapemas posts out! :)

❤️ Please remember that English isn’t my native language and that my Writings will include Mistakes and maybe weird formed sentences. ❤️

Pairing: Severus Snape x Reader

Warnings: Cursing

Word count: 1115

Y/N - Your Name, Y/L/N - Your last name

#4. Snow

,,Do you really need to work on Christmas?“ Pouting you sat next to the burning cabin huffing at your husbands actions.

,,Just in case you didn’t noticed it yet, but it’s not even close to Christmas. There’s still one week left until the  24th.“ He lectured you with a small smile. Knowing how excited you alway got around this time of the year. ,,But to answer your Question: Yes, I do. But i´ll try to be as fast as I can, okay?“ Now looking over to you he awaited your response.

,,Sure.“ Sighing you got up to grab an Book from the Shelf behind the Couch. Looking over all those Covers you decided to read an old fairy tale book of yours again just for the melancholy but before you sat down you walked to your husband to kiss his cheek. ,,I love you, Professor.“ Blushing he looked at you to grab your chin and give you a real kiss. ,,I love you too, darling.“ He hated it whenever you called him Professor, preferring something like love or dear. But for the sake of silence so he could continue his work he accepted your wisecrack.

Reading all the Muggle fairy tails you knew since you were a child you felt sad about this years Christmas. It wasn’t like any other Christmas you had before. You didn’t bought a Christmas Tree, didn’t baked any cookies yet, haven’t watched a Christmas movie nor did it snow. It just didn’t feel like Christmas at all. Thinking about buying a Christmas tree you wanted to ask Severus for help but you promised him to give him his space. So you had to try something else. Laying the book aside you tried to remember where you put all the Christmas Decorations. Were they still at your Place or on Severus Attic? Soon you found yourself wandering through multiple cardboard boxes. The most of them contained old books, jars and even Potions. Nothing. Not even a single Christmas tree ornament was laying around. 

 ,,I didn’t like that fucking Penguins anyways.“ You mumbled upset over another failure. Brushing off spiderweb from your shoulders and arms your frustration only grew. Back downstairs you went straight to the Kitchen. Grabbing the cookbook you gifted Severus last Christmas. After the third ingredient you discovered again that something was missing. This Man didn’t even had Flour in his Household. This must’ve been a joke. Nothing seemed to work as you planned to. ,,Sev? I´ll go to the supermarket. Do you need anything?“ Pulled away from his thought he looked at you with a puzzled look. ,,Uh, no. I don’t think so. Want me to give you a ride?“ Laying the Quill down he followed you to the Entrance. ,,I´ll just walk. What’s the worst thing that could happen?“ As Severus crossed his arms he just laughed lightly. ,,It could start to rain or-“ Interrupting him with a kiss you just smiled. ,,That was a rhetorical question. Please, just hurry up.“

The Air was so cold you wished that you would’ve taken your scarf with you or even a thicker Jacket. The Street got lit by the Lanterns and the colourful decorations of all the Neighbours. At least one thing that would cheer you up. Soon, before your fingers froze you reached the Supermarket. Gladly it was one of those Stores that also sold Decoration Stuff. Without thinking about it you started to buy everything you needed to get in the Christmas Mood. Some fairy lights, Ornaments for a tree you planned to buy, Stockings with your and Severus Initials, Christmas Themed Candy and last but not least the Ingredients you still needed for the Cookies and Dinner landed all in your shopping cart. To be honest you spent twice as much as you actually intended to (and didn’t have a Christmas Tree at this Point yet) but you didn’t cared. Carrying Four Bags back to Severus House you feared your Arms could possibly just get ripped off. But it didn’t matter. You decided that today would be a good day. Forgetting your earlier Frustration you now got finally into the well known Christmas Excitement. Not even the Rain that now hit your Face merciless could ruin your mood. A few streets before you reached back Home Severus Car pulled up next to you. ,,Need a ride?“ Relief you quickly put the Bags into the Back of his Car and then hurried to the seat next to him. ,,You’re the best.“ Smiling Severus just kept driving. ,,I was wondering if you could find the Christmas Ornaments?“ Confused you looked over to him. ,,Did I even told you about it?“ Chuckling he just got out of the Car, holding his Jacket over his Head until he reached you so he could hold it above your head to shield you from the rain.

,,Get in, I´ll get the Bags.“ Running back to the Car he did as he told and followed you. ,,Thank you, Sev. I really don’t deserve you.“ As he helped you out of your thin Jacket you realised how much you started to freeze. ,,Theres something else I have been preparing for you. Go to the living room.“ Following his instructions you barley couldn’t believe your eyes. He had set up a Tree and turned on your favourite Christmas Song. Pouting, this time out of happiness, you just hugged him. ,,Thank you.“ Admiring the tree you were in loss of words. ,,How- How did you know?“ He smiled shamefully. ,,You looked so sad- I had to know what’s on your mind. And I actually bought the Tree a few days ago. I planned to surprise you on Sunday after the Order Meeting.“ Using his Legilimency was a weakness he just used whenever he wasn’t sure how to start Conversation or felt like something was off. Not being able to be mad at him you just smiled and were certainly happy about his effort. Thanking him again with a kiss on his cheek you went to the kitchen to take care of your Buyings.

At the End of the day you sat on the Couch tugged in multiple blankets and in your Husbands arms. The House smelled like the Cookies you just baked and like Cinnamon, the fairy lights lightened up the room and the cabin rumbled in the Background. ,,Want me to read some poems for you?“ Nodding you just cuddled closer to him and with a small movement of his wand Severus pointed to the tree and little snowflakes landed on the branches. Being grateful for everything this man does for you you watched the snow fall and hear your husband whisper to you.

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[forever-rogue]

Ezra x Reader: the heating system goes out, and it's freezing.

It is freezing. Absolutely freezing. You’re positive that you’ve never felt anything so boning chilling and cold before. You weren’t even sure what planet you were on, to be quite frank, you’d left all that up to Ezra’s discretion. You thought about a cracking a joke and comparing this planet to the one called Hoth from Star Wars, which were old films you’d never seen but had only heard of. But Ezra had been quiet...stoic. It was uncharacteristic of him, and you weren’t sure if it was something you’d done wrong, or he was just deeply invested in the book in his lap.

You pulled the thin blanket you had closer to your frame and tried to stop the chattering of your teeth. You were wearing several layers already, including one of his thick, woolen sweaters and socks but you didn’t manage to find reprieve from the chill. You cursed your ship; it was slowly breaking down and you surely had to replace it soon. Or at least get the heating fixed. Ezra had tinkered around with the system but had been unsuccessful in getting it fixed. He had been irritated with himself, but you reassured him that it wasn’t his fault.

Ezra was...an interesting man. He was loud, boisterous, and well spoken, but there was another part of him that others didn’t get to see. But you did. You weren’t sure exactly how or when you’d earned that privilege, but somehow you had. For as much as he was, he was also calm, quiet, and thoughtful, often retreating into himself and seeking reassurance. He was a good man, although he often didn’t believe. You tried to show him, and it was enough to cause him to think that maybe he wasn’t so bad after all, that maybe he was good. Maybe he wasn’t as pure and gentle as you were, his most treasured friend and companion, but he wasn’t the horrible, black-hearted man that he made himself out to be.

You weren’t sure what to call your relationship with him...it was...friendly, definitely more than friendly, but...something. It had turned from a stiff partnership that had came to fruition out of necessity to a friendship that included jokes at each other’s expenses to....this. It was a lot of wanton glances, lingering touches, soft words whispered just so the other could hear it but pretend they didn’t, to you stealing his clothes, to the accidental brush of lips when you’d fumble around in the dark. But you’d never been bold or brash enough to ask about him about anything, or to take it further. What if you’d concocted all of this in your mind, and made it to be much more than what it was? What if -

“You are thinking much too loudly, pretty little bird,” his voice caused your head to snap in his direction. He hadn’t even bothered to look up from his book, but a soft, lazy smile was on his features. You pulled the blanket up to your chin as you narrowed your eyes at him, wondering how he always managed to know, to read you, “you can glare at me all you want with those pretty eyes, but it will not deter from the fact that you are clearly avoiding what is going on.”

“There is nothing going on, Ez,” you insisted, silently rolling your eyes at him, “I’m just trying not to freeze to death. I dunno know how you can stand it.”

“I am quite content right here, just as I am, “ he gestured to his blanket covered body, looking over at you with his big, brown eyes inquisitive as ever. You tried not to let your gaze linger too long on his large thighs, the same thighs you’d spent many hours fantasizing about, or how small the book he was reading looked in those large hands. You wondered exactly how skilled those large hands were - but no. You couldn’t let your thoughts get too far away from you, “I am larger than you, and it undoubtedly aids in keeping me warmer. You have absolutely paled, pretty bird.”

“That’s because I am trying not die,” you insisted, making a dramatic show of chattering your teeth to let him know you were freezing, “pardon me if I don’t look the best right now.”

“You are just as stunning as ever,” he insisted, marking his page by turning the corner down slightly and snapping the book shut. The sound lingered in the air for a few moments before he set it down and turned to face you. Had he always been this handsome, or were you just completely sold on him? He lifted the blanket up and gestured for you to come over, “for surely the moons and the suns are all beautiful, even if they present a vastly different picture. You are as lovely now as you are on the warmest, finest day.”

“Ez, how do you still manage to be so eloquent while I’m here barely to string two sentences together?” you sighed and pulled the blanket up higher, unsure if you should go over to him, unsure if you trusted yourself enough. You didn’t like to relinquish control, and you weren’t sure if you able to hold onto it if you went over and joined him.

“I wish I had an explanation for you,” he admitted, as he let out a small breathy laugh, “now come over here before you become a solid ice block and I have to thaw you out.”

“Are you...” you started trailed off, letting the question linger in the frigid air. You both knew what you meant, you both knew where this could lead to. There was only so much build before something had to break. You were on the precipice of that break, each word, each calculated movement bringing you closer. Closer to relinquishing control and giving into your desires, the kind you didn’t have to think about, the kind that just took over.

“Come on, little bird,” he jerked his head for you to come over and slowly, ever so slowly, you slid out of your own small cot and let your feet hit the ground with a dull thud. Grabbing the blanket, you padded silently over to him, standing over him as you looked between those sweet brown eyes and the space he had made for you.

Clambering in, you laid down next to him, your body instinctively curling into his side as you put your head on his warm chest. He quickly pulled the blankets around the two of you and wrapped an around your back so in an attempt to help warm you up. It quickly worked; he was like some kind of a furnace and his body heat radiated onto you, warming up to your core within a few minutes.

But then...before you knew it, something inside you just snapped. And Ezra must have felt it too. The hundreds upon thousands of unspoken words that hung between you were dissolved as you were scrambled to sit up and you effortlessly straddled his waist, planting yourself firmly, and resolutely in his lap. Your hands found purchase on his broad shoulders, his skin tantalizingly golden and warm. You faced him, your chest heaving with a mixture of exertion and nervous as you studied his face.

His large hands were firmly on your waist, his fingers finding their way under the multiple layers and grazing across your now burning skin. His honeyed gaze never fell from yours, and your brought your face closer and closer and closer until just the tip of your nose was gently brushing against his. A low sound came from his throat as his hands slid to your backside and gave your soft flesh a firm squeeze.

“Ezra,” his name rolled off your lips with ease, a sound of prayer and salvation as he closed the almost nonexistent distance and crashed his lips onto yours. It was gentle at first, slow, delicate, like he was testing to waters to make sure this was okay with you. To make sure such a pure thing could even stand to be kissed by a man like him. He quickly received his answer as you wrapped your arms around his neck and rutted your hips forward ever so slightly so that you could get as close as possible. He tasted sweet, sweeter than you had thought possible, and you never wanted to forget the feel of his hungry mouth on yours. It was...a mess, a tangle of teeth and tongue as you tried to figure everything out, and not get too ahead of yourselves before you fully realized what you were doing.

“I’m sure this must be some sort of fever dream,” his voice was rough and low against your ear as he worked his hands up your sides, almost as if he was wanted to make sure you were real flesh and blood in his arms, “surely I cannot be deserving of this moment, of holding such a gentle, sweet thing.”

“Ezra,” you carded a hand through his dark locks, gently scratching your nails against his scalp as he craned into your touch, “you deserve this. This is real, very real.”

“Pretty little bird,” he nuzzled his strong nose against yours as he let his hands roam your torso, touching every inch, every curve of your soft skin, “you have no clue as to the effects you have on me. Every day with you has been better than the last, and I do not know what I did to deserve you, but I sure am thankful for whatever blessing has been bestowed upon me.”

“Ezra,” you drawled out your name as you shifted slightly, feeling every effect you had on him, very clearly, “you are a good man. Despite what you think. You have saved me in more ways than you know.”

“How can I be when I’ve convinced you that this is what you want?” he rested his forehead against yours as he let out a long breath, “you just wanted warmth and I’ve fully taken advantage of the situation, welcoming you into my bed and lap like a wanton man that has never seen a woman. Although it is true, I have never seen someone of your beauty and grace before.”

“Ez,” you put your hand under his chin and tilted his face up ever so slightly, “I want this. I do.”

“You are speaking from the chill that has set in your bones-”

“No,” you insisted firmly, putting your hands on either side of his face, tracing your fingers over the light stubble that littered his cheeks, “you have done nothing wrong. I know what I’m doing, what I’m saying - and I want you. I want this.”

“Oh my sweet little bird,” it was a blissful sigh, “I must be the luckiest man that has ever lived, to be deserving of such affection from you.”

“Ezra,” you let your lips slowly brush against his, “for once in your life, please stop talking. I love hearing that voice, but right now, I need you to touch me.”

He sat up further and pulled you so tightly against him, that you were sure his strong arms would crush you. But his touch was saccharine and his kisses sweet than the finest honey as your name rolled off his tongue with such passion and reverence that you knew he had wanted this as much as you did. His touch was like worship and you wondered why you had ever waited this long to experience it, why you had questioned his devotion.

“Little bird,” he rasped against your lips as he trailed a line of kisses down your jaw and neck, “I do not know if I will be able to contain myself.”

“Then don’t,” you bit your bottom lip as he found your sensitive sweet spot and nipped at the delicate skin, “don’t hold back.”

[honouraryweasley12]

Remembrance

At Shell Cottage, Ron and Hermione grieve a fallen hero. In doing so, they must face some truths long-hidden and make a decision about their future.

Also on FF.net

The sunlight streaming through the window provided ample light, but the sprawl of words in front of her were hazy, Hermione's own thoughts preventing her from focusing. It was rare for her to have such difficulty, especially when she was reading for sheer enjoyment. Her recovery had taken a lot out of her, and she'd been pouring her remaining energy into the planning of their next task.

A lull in the strategizing was a welcome change, yet she felt unsettled. Like she should be doing something more meaningful with the precious respite they had been granted. Time seemed to slow at the cottage, her first real breather since August.

The book lay still in her lap as she stared at the window, her eyes misty as she recalled the blur of empty oppressive days and narrow escapes, living in fear and paranoia.

So much had happened, the most recent as terrible as anything she could recall physically, and certainly the worst thing she'd ever personally experienced—the wiping of her parents' memories an extremely close second.

The torture she had suffered was not something easily forgotten, being so close to her own demise shook her to her very core. She found tears would come unbidden, as they were presently, at the most random times. Her hands had started trembling, and any loud noise startled her. Through it all though, she had found her source of comfort and healing.

Ron.

She smiled and wiped the wet trails running down her cheeks. The pretense between them had been shattered. That night had been a wake-up call that anything could happen, and it spurred them both, especially Ron, into action. They were no longer afraid to be openly affectionate and supportive toward one another. She didn't care about being vulnerable in front of him, if it meant an embrace and the soothing warmth of his hand rubbing slow circles on her back.

It was their silver lining.

She sighed, putting aside the book. She wanted to embrace his attentiveness as much she could, until their time ran out. It wouldn't be long now until they had to abandon the safe haven of Shell Cottage and attempt another incredibly dangerous mission.

Their so-called plan was foolish at best, fatal at worst. It was high risk but also high reward, their first real lead on a Horcrux in ages. The chances were grim, but at least there was a sliver of hope. She didn't want to think about that now, especially the myriad of potential outcomes.

The urge to see him seized her. Gingerly, Hermione got out of the bed and shivered, her skin erupting in gooseflesh as a gust of cool sea air blew into the small bedroom. She eyed the jumper he'd thrown over the back of the chair, where he'd been spending time with her at every possible opportunity. Debating for a second, she slipped it on and took a deep breath, his scent a balm for her frazzled nerves.

Slowly making her way down the stairs, she could hear muffled voices from the small living room. Turning to the kitchen, she found Harry, staring hard at the white wood of the quaint table as he turned that lucky shard of glass over and over in his hands, a reminder of what they had suffered through.

She almost couldn't bear to look at her friend in such a state of despair, opting instead to glance around Bill and Fleur's kitchen. Something was missing though—or rather someone. Ron was usually around to keep Harry's spirits up, so it struck her as odd that he was alone.

A sudden panic gripped her, her heart pounding in her chest. Where was he? Had he left? Her hand flew to her chest and she tried to take a calming breath, despite her obvious stress.

No, he wouldn't do that again. He'd promised her, and she believed him. The demons that had been plaguing him months ago had been pushed away with the destruction of that insidious locket, at least for now.

She hated that this was her first reaction, still scarred from his last departure. The bruises on her heart were a sickly yellow, healing but not completely gone.

Stop it, she chastised herself silently. He had more than made up for it since his return. Even now, after she'd been through such a painful ordeal, he was showing such consideration and concern for her. A deft touch that she never would have suspected he possessed. This is how she thanked him? By doubting him, yet again? By dwelling on a mistake she knew would haunt him forever?

She felt disgusted and angry at herself. He'd come through for her  innumerable times, the doubt the last vestiges of lingering hurt. She didn't trust anyone more than she trusted Ron, that much she knew.

Harry, who suddenly looked up from his stupor, raised his brow at the large letter 'R' emblazoned across her torso. He must have noticed her misery and nodded his head towards the door. "He's outside."

"Thank you," she whispered, watching her friend's face as it fell into deep thought once again, the weight on his shoulders crushing him.

Pushing open the door of the cottage, she stepped out, squinting from the bright light. Too many days of darkness had taken its toll, the freedom of simply being outside, in the open, felt foreign. She raised a hand to shield her eyes from the harsh rays and began walking toward her source of comfort.

Ron was crouched down, all limbs and fiery red hair, messed from the breeze. He had matured, they all had, far too quickly. His transformation upon his return had shocked her, but her self-erected barricade hadn't allowed her to express it.

She hugged herself as she walked up, the too-long arms of his jumper enveloping her thin frame. It was a poor substitute, having felt his warm embrace more in the past few days than she had over the previous seven years.

He stirred slightly as she approached, stilled by her hand on his shoulder. His weathered plaid shirt was soft under her fingers. She almost laughed at how easily they'd transitioned to something more than they'd ever been. How natural it felt to just give in and touch him without fear of rejection. The years they spent skirting their feelings seemed rather silly now.

She waited, giving him time. She was learning not to rush him. That he would often take a minute to organize his thoughts the way he wanted to, rather than feeling the pressure of replying before he was ready to. It was just the two of them on the bluff, with the churning sea below. Nothing else existed except the memorial in front of them.

The crudely carved stone held a heartbreaking epitaph. Such simple words for someone who had made the ultimate sacrifice.

Ron sniffed, his voice rough. "He was so fucking innocent."

She squeezed his shoulder in agreement, watching from above as he twisted a pair of worn socks in his large hands. After a moment, he gently laid them down at the feet of the plot and placed a stone on them to keep them in place.

He cleared his throat before continuing, his voice wavering. "I wish I could do more, besides giving him Bill's old socks."

Her eyelashes prickled with tears at seeing how deeply Dobby's death was affecting him. Beneath her hand, his body shook for a moment and calmed. After taking a deep breath, his voice broke the silence, quiet but firm.

"I've thought—for a while now—that if the time came, I'd sacrifice myself to help Harry. So many have. Maybe that's all I would be good for. The expendable Weasley. Seemed like I was made just for that purpose. Now..."

She held her tongue, wanting to admonish him for even considering something like that, to extol his virtues, and tell him how truly broken she felt during his time away. How much he meant to her, Harry, and everyone that knew him. Something stopped her; she was curious to hear where he was going with this.

He glanced up at her, his piercing blue eyes filled with an intensity she'd never seen before.

"Now, I... I don't feel as if I could, knowing what I might be leaving behind... what could happen if I dared to think I could make it through this."

That one look told her everything. Everything. His remorse, his fear, his love for her. She was the reason he wouldn't do something foolishly heroic. Even though he already had in rescuing her.

She could see his continuing struggle, his anguish. The waves of tension were palpable, his muscles straining under her fingertips.

"It feels so wrong to want something, to want happiness. Look at Harry—he's given up everything for this war. I bet if he could sacrifice his life to end it, he would in a heartbeat."

Seeing his pain so openly caused her chest to tighten. She wanted to wrap him in a hug and spirit him away. Just the two of them, hidden from the rest of the world.

Her voice was soft in her ears. "It's not selfish to want to live, Ron. To want something more after this war. There's a life beyond this that I dream about, too."

As he watched her, she tried to convey everything he meant to her through her eyes. That the life she imagined included him, could only be with him.

He gave her a slight nod, as if telling her he understood. Slowly, his hand reached up and met hers, their fingers loosely intertwining.

"I'm scared, Hermione. Scared for Harry and my family. Mostly terrified for you, of losing you. Almost did."

He looked away, but Hermione knew what he meant. She shared the same fears, unvoiced but ever present.

Ron sniffled again and let out a quiet cough. "Those were the worst moments of my life, in Malfoy Manor. I felt so bloody helpless. There was nothing I could do."

She didn't mean to say it in the moment, but it slipped out. "We're even now."

His neck twisted up and he stared at her with wide eyes, his expression one of incredulity. "You can't mean..."

She nodded, her eyes wet. "When you left, I was so afraid I'd never see you again. I was utterly heartbroken and there was nothing I could do. Whatever the locket was doing to you was a form of torture, too. It must've been for you to leave. That wasn't the Ron I know."

He protested, his grip on her hand tightening slightly. "You can't compare the two! You didn't choose to be tortured, and you still didn't give in. You weren't the stupid git who left!"

In that moment, she knew in her heart she forgave him, that he had come back and ultimately saved her. She was hit by a sudden realization.

"Don't you see? It doesn't matter anymore! Whatever happens, we'll find each other again. My voice brought you back, and you were there to rescue me!"

She felt his posture slump.

"I didn't though, not really. I couldn't even take your place." Ron's voice dropped to a whisper, almost lost in the breeze. "I couldn't stop them from hurting you."

"It was an impossible situation, but you saved me, Ron. Everything you did that night saved me. Your screams for me, the way you fought them, getting me here safely. Harry told me—"

He shook his head. "I got lucky, so fucking lucky. Dobby was the real hero," Ron said, staring back at the carved stone. "Hermione... he died... so... so you could live. He didn't have to help us save you. If it was Harry he was worried about, he would have just brought us here first and then maybe tried to rescue you. But he didn't. Without him... I would have lost you."

His words rung in her ears, a horrific truth. "He died... so you could live."

She hadn't thought of it that way. In her head, she’d equated the loss of Dobby with another loved one protecting Harry. The impact of it hit her, and she stumbled back a step. Ron was on his feet in an instant, pulling her to him as they cried, together. Mourning the loss of such a selfless, compassionate soul. Releasing the pent-up emotions of almost losing one another. Ron held her tightly and she was reminded of Dumbledore's funeral. This time, however, Ron dropped loving kisses into her hair.

She pressed her face to the flannel of his shirt, her tears soaking into the cloth. She held onto him, anchored to the cliff by his strength.

"Dobby was so incredibly courageous. Gods Hermione, I don't know what I would have done if he hadn't saved us all. If he hadn't sacrificed himself."

"He saved me, Ron. But so did you."

He looked down at her, brushing away her tears with large unsure thumbs. Their eyes met, the gaze between them deep.

"Sod it!" He suddenly declared. "You-You are the most important thing in my life, and if you hadn't survived..."

She pressed a finger to his lips, causing them both to shudder. "I did, and I intend to finish this and have the life I want. With you. But..."

"Not until this is over."

She nodded. "Alright, Ron?"

"Yeah," he agreed, but he couldn't resist pulling her against him once again.

They stood there for a moment longer, silently paying their respects to the one who gave them a chance.

"I swear Hermione, I'll never forget what he did. I'll never be able to thank him or repay him."

"All we can do is honour his memory and keep fighting."

Ron nodded his head in agreement. It was all they could do for the future they both so desperately wanted.

As they turned to head back to the cottage, she thought she heard him whisper a final thanks to Dobby.

They were quiet as the walked down the cliffside, their hands clasped. A new determination had overcome them. They were going to fight. They needed to be as brave as the departed elf.

As they reached the cottage, Ron playfully nudged Hermione, the amusement obvious in his voice. "You know, maybe SPEW wasn't such a bad idea."

"It's S.P.E.W!"

[fuckin-georg]

Kravitz Went Down to Fantasy Georgia

It was scorching hot in Fantasy Georgia when the stranger came. A quiet, sweltering August day. The kind that discourages any sort of movement whatsoever. Most of the residents of Fantasy Georgia had taken to sitting on their doorsteps, casting cold spells as much as their spell slots would allow. The non-magic users of the town quickly sidled up to the magic users, aiding with fans and anything cold they could find. Business owners had their doors opened, and a drow woman, the owner of the local bar, brought out fresh lemonade to anyone who wanted it. On the steps of a building on the right side of the street, a young elven woman played a fiddle, providing a welcome entertainment. A human man leaned against the stair railing, watching her play with a mix of admiration and love.

The stranger seemed to materialize out of the horizon line, melting into reality like a desert mirage. His dark suit, dark hat and dark horse certainly stood out in the hot Fantasy Georgia sun, but the stranger wasn’t even breaking a sweat. His handsome face was set in a stern expression, and he rode with a purpose. Little did the people of Fantasy Georgia know how much of an act he was putting on.

Kravitz was in trouble. The Raven Queen was kind and patient, much more patient than Kravitz ever was with himself, and she had been giving him dozens of second chances to catch the liches he’d been pursuing for months. These red robed specters have been giving him quite the chase: through the mines of Phandalin, winding through the Felicity Wilds, and even to the moon and back. But finally, he had them tracked down to this small desert town. Soon this wild goose chase will be all over.

As soon as he enters the small town, all eyes were on him. A burly, bearded man standing outside of a carpentry shop paused his work on a wheelchair to look at him. Kravitz tipped his hat towards him, and he nodded his head back at him. A dwarven man sat outside of the local church, as two young children played in front of him. From behind the building where the bar was, a young elven man carried a box of food, but stopped in his tracks as he saw Kravitz. When he noticed Kravitz looking at him, he smirked and winked, and continued walking. Kravitz blushed and coughed loudly. That was the last thing Kravitz needed right now. He was so close to the liches he could feel it. He couldn’t afford to be distracted by a very handsome elf. Not right now, at least.

Finally, Kravitz came upon the young fiddle player and her admirer. He couldn’t help but be impressed at her skill with a violin. He had always appreciated good music in life and in death, and she obviously had a gift. He dismounted his horse as casually as he could, which meant that he fumbled with his footing a little bit as he went to the ground. He heard a snicker behind him, and then a voice.

“First time riding a horse, city boy?”

Kravitz heard the music stop, and saw the woman looking at him. He chuckled.

“Was it that obvious?” He silently cursed himself for his ridiculous accent. It was an old habit he was trying to stop, but old habits die hard. Pun intended.

“Nah, just a feeling. Your giant black suit definitely doesn’t give anything away. Seriously I’m sweating my ass off just looking at you.” She turned to the man sitting next to her. “Babe, you wanna get us some lemonade from Ren?”

“Sure thing.” The man kissed her cheek and got up to go to the bar. The woman put her fiddle down and stood up, smoothing the wrinkles on her clothes. “So what brings you here?”

Kravitz paused for a moment, trying to find the right words.

“Business.”

“Ah I see. Trying to open a fantasy Hot Topic?”

Kravitz gave another chuckle as he looked down at the ground. “No, nothing like that. Doesn’t seem like that would be a big seller here.” She laughs at that. Another pause. “Actually Lup, my business here is more…personal.” And as he looked at her, his eyes glowed red, and for a moment, he let his human form flicker to his skeletal form, and then back again. Lup shivered in the sun.

“Oh.”

Kravitz reached into the air and a book materialized into his hand. He opened it and flipped through it until he found the page he was looking for.

“Lup, you are under arrest for necromantic crimes against the Raven Queen and the natural world, including but not limited to: becoming a lich, evading capture, and for the use of arson against multiple reapers.”

Lup looked affronted. “Now, wait a sec there, ghost rider, y’all are already dead. I don’t think a little fire is gonna do any real damage.”

Kravitz snapped the book shut, pointedly ignoring her comment. He lifted the book back into the air, and it dematerialized. With his other hand, he summoned his scythe.

“You couldn’t run forever, Lup. Now you can come quietly with me and we’ll do this properly, or it can get very ugly very fast.”

It was at that opportune moment that Lup’s boyfriend decided to come back, precariously carrying three glasses of lemonade that he was intently focused on not dropping.

“Alright. I didn’t know if you wanted any lemonade, so I got us three just in ca-“

He looked up and saw Lup, the stranger, and a scythe. The stranger turned his head toward him and flashed his red eyes once more. He brought the book back and opened it to-

“Barry Bluejeans: multiple counts of necromantic crimes against the Raven Queen, including becoming a lich and evading capture multiple times. You are also under arrest.” And the book disappeared once more. Barry just stared dumbfounded at the stranger.

“…So no lemonade, then.”

Lup put her hands up, seemingly looking to negotiate a deal.

“Alright, listen, ghost rider. Can I call you ghost rider?”

“I would prefer if you called me Kravitz.” He growled a little. He definitely was not in the mood to negotiate with these undead abominations who refuse to go in quietly, if they ever go in at all.

“Alright, skeletor. You’ve been following us for a while now. Let me ask you something. … Have you ever actually seen us do any harm to anybody else?”

Kravitz gripped his scythe harder and brought it closer to the liches. Barry flinched a little bit, but Lup stood unwaveringly.

“Your presence is a danger to everyone on this planet. Now, my patience grows thin.” His eyes began to glow again.

Lup’s eyes darted around, seemingly looking for an out, when her eyes landed on something peeking out from behind Kravitz’s back. Hey eyes widened.

“Wait wait wait.” She pointed to his back. “You play, too?”

This was enough to halt Kravitz for just a second, and he glanced behind him at the violin case strapped to his back. “Yes. I’m rather fond of the violin as well. Small world. Now if you’ll excuse me.” He began to raise his scythe.

“Let me play you.”

And now, Kravitz was listening. “Beg your pardon?”

Lup looked relieved that Kravitz had finally paused in his mission. She continued.

“Let me play you. One fiddle vs another. Best player wins.”

And oh. Lup had hit Kravitz in his weak spot. He couldn’t resist a good gamble. Especially one that he had such an advantage on. Nothing against Lup’s rather good skills, but he doubted that she, at one point, was first violin in the most famous orchestra on the planet. Kravitz chuckled and dematerialized his scythe.

“Alright. Best player wins. If I win, you and Barry come with me. No resisting,” he gave Lup a stern look. “No fire.”

“No fire. And if I win?”

Kravitz thought about it for a minute, and then put his left palm out with his right hand covering it. He pulled his right hand straight up in the air, as if he were pulling a string, but instead of a string, he manifested a fiddle made entirely out of pure gold. It glimmered magnificently in the sun, and Lup’s eyes widened to the size of saucers.

“Holy shit. Deal.”

Kravitz looked around and saw an old hickory stump in the middle of the street. He walked towards it and laid the golden fiddle on it. By this point, most people had been watching this back and forth intently, and Kravitz wondered how many of them knew that their dear friends and neighbors were undead beings. No matter. He turned back around to Lup and Barry. Lup had went and gotten her violin and was walking towards Kravitz. She seemed pretty confident and Kravitz almost felt sorry for her.

They took their positions. Kravitz on one end of the street, Lup on the other, just like an old-fashioned shoot-out you would see in those old Fantasy westerns. Kravitz reached behind him and pulled his violin from behind him. It was completely black, and the base was shaped like a skull, to match the entire aesthetic he had going on. It was a gift from the Raven Queen when he first became a reaper. He took out his bow and looked at Lup, who bowed to him.

“Reapers first, m’dude.”

“With pleasure.” And Kravitz positioned his bow across the strings, paused for a moment, and began to play.

His first movement across the strings ignited a fire in him that he hadn’t felt in a long time, so much so that it spilled out of his fingertips and sent sparks into the air. His red eyes glowed with passion and power, and a mighty ripple went through the town and its residents. Music had been Kravitz’s passion in life, and it continued in death. He played a dark tune that made the ground rumble, as if the souls of the damned were threatening to break through. Kravitz finished on a truly impressive glissando and brought his bow down with a flourish. Not a soul stirred as all of the residents stared at Kravitz in awe. Then, the silence was broken.

“FUCK yeah, bone daddy!”

Kravitz whipped his head around and saw the handsome elf from earlier shouting at him from the porch of the bar. Kravitz blushed again, but his newfound confidence from his recent playing encouraged him enough to wink back at the elf. Lup, however, was not as pleased.

“Taako, what the FUCK! You used to be my brother!! Support me, please??”

The elf, whose name was Taako, at least had the decency to look guilty.

“Sorry lemme try again. … Go Lup! Woo!” Taako did not sound nearly as enthusiastic as he did for Kravitz. Lup rolled her eyes and turned back to Kravitz.

“Not bad. For a dead guy.” She smiled. “The sparks were real cute. Now, let me show you how it’s done.”

And she began to play.

Hundreds of years in service to the Raven Queen is proof that Kravitz physically does not have a heart anymore. That still didn’t stop it from warming as soon as Lup began to fiddle. Kravitz’s playing chilled the town. Lup’s warmed it back up. There was love in every note and it filled every person with a sense of hope. Her passion for something…or someone…was so obvious and evident, it seemed to be a magic all on its own. It didn’t even take the whole song for Kravitz to realize that he’d been out-fiddled. When Lup finished up, the entire town cheered, and Kravitz actually had to stop himself from cheering too. Barry ran over to Lup and embraced her, a huge smile on both of their faces. Kravitz bowed his head and began to walk back toward his horse, ready to leave town, when…

“Wait a minute, ghost rider. You’re forgetting the last part.”

Kravitz turned back around, and Lup had her fiddle back in hand, ready to play again.

“What next part? You won, fair and square.”

Lup laughed. “No no no. Now,” and she played a chord, “we play together.”

Kravitz cocked an eyebrow as Lup looked at him expectantly. “C’mon! Play with me!”

And Lup began to play again, a jovial dance tune. Kravitz looked at her. He wondered why he didn’t just strike her down when he had the chance. What in the world had compelled him to take this bet, and not just bring in the two liches who had been causing him so much trouble? He could do it now. He could just rear his scythe back and end them here and now. He could…

Maybe it was the long journey he had. Maybe it was the elf who had been flirting with him. Maybe it was the thrill and joy of the music that he hadn’t felt in a long time. For whatever reason…

Kravitz played with her.

Their two different music styles weaved so wonderfully together: Kravitz’s low, otherworldly sounds, Lup’s full of life and love. Before they knew it, they were playing like old friends and partners. The townsfolk had begun to clap in rhythm, some even dancing in the street. Barry had somehow (probably with magic) pulled a piano outside and began to play with them as well. It was the most fun Kravitz had had in the mortal world in a long time. He and Lup were laughing and so was Barry and for the first time, Kravitz was making mortals happy, and not bringing death and pain to them. It was thrilling and wonderful. One song turned into two, and then into five, and pretty soon, Kravitz, Lup and Barry had spent the better part of the afternoon giving an impromptu concert to the residents of Fantasy Georgia.

The concert had winded down to a halt right around sunset, when people were just too tired to dance, and, in Lup’s and Barry’s case, too tired to play. Kravitz sat with them, and finally got around to having that lemonade from earlier. They sat on the steps that Kravitz had found them on earlier.

“I haven’t had that much fun in a long time,” said Kravitz.

Lup looked at him with a smile. “Yeah. You’re not so bad once you finally let loose.” She took a swig of lemonade. “And you’re a pretty fucking good player.”

Kravitz smiled too. “I should hope so. I wasn’t first chair at the Neverwinter Orchestra for nothing.”

“No shit!” Lup looked impressed. There was silence as the three of them looked at the sky. Kravitz sighed and turned to Lup and Barry.

“Look. I’m gonna need to talk to you guys eventually. About you being liches and everything. You can’t stay like this forever. Liches are…incredibly dangerous beings.”

Barry spoke up. “We know. We…we knew the risks when we first became liches, but…you have to understand. We were coming from a place where we encountered…” he looked at Lup nervously. She shrugged as if to say “Might as well tell him.” “…we encountered death more times than we ever would like to admit.”

Lup popped in. “We stopped a major apocalypse happening here. Of course, nobody knows anything about it because…well, we stopped it.”

Kravitz blinks a couple of times. “Wait, you guys stopped…the end of the world?”

Barry grimaces. “It’s a long story. Us and a couple of other people here…we’re not really…from this world?”

Kravitz could feel a headache forming. This was a lot more complicated than he thought. “Hooo-kay. I’ll…I’ll take your word for it for now. We need to talk about everything, eventually. How you’re able to be so calm and collected for being liches to start. But I do have to get back soon. The bottom line is we really can’t have liches on this planet.” Lup and Barry look nervously at each other. Kravitz suddenly has an idea. “Look. What if I talked to my goddess about you two, and we set up a meeting where you explain everything to her. What I could do is…talk her into letting you become reapers. You’d do everything that I do and possibly could still have residency here with your family.”

Kravitz looked expectantly at Lup and Barry, who looked extremely surprised. Barry spoke up first. “Woah. That’s…that’s a better proposition than I thought you were gonna say.” Lup then said “Why are you being so nice to us?”

Kravitz fiddled with his glass of lemonade and avoided eye contact with them. “Well, to be honest, you reminded me of how much I enjoy making music with other people. It’s been a while since I’ve plated with other people.” He paused. “Plus, I would very much like to play with you guys again, and I can’t really do that if you’re in the Eternal Stockade.”

Lup smiled wide. “Fuck yeah, ghost rider! We’ll be a trio of reaper musicians! Fear the Reapers! That’s our name. Don’t argue with me on this one, my names are fucking perfect.”

Kravitz laughed. “I still have to talk with the Raven Queen tho. But I’ll be in contact with you.” He stands up and turns to them with his hand outstretched. Barry takes it.

“Will do, Kravitz. Thanks for…y’know, getting to know us and not taking us in right away.”

Kravitz smiles and then goes to shake Lup’s hand.

“Oh, NONE of that, bones.” And she forgoes the handshake and goes right in for a hug. Kravitz is taken aback for a few seconds before he reciprocates. Lup lets go and says “You’re pretty much our friend now, so there’s no getting rid of us. Plus I’ve already made an Fantasy Instagram for our band. You can’t back out now.”

Kravitz shakily laughs. “Oh, I’m gonna have so much explaining to do to the Raven Queen.” He walks over to his horse and mounts it, ready to head out. “Barry, Lup, it’s been an absolute pleasure, and I look forward to our meeting. I’ll um…actually hold on. Do you have Stones of Farspeech?”

“Yeah.”

“For sure.”

Barry and Lup pull out two stones hanging around their neck. Kravitz waves his hand and the stones glow for a couple of seconds before returning to their normal state.

“There,” Kravitz said. “I’ve attuned your stones to mine, so when I have the meeting set up, I’ll contact you.”

Lup looks at her stone. “Oh rad!” She looks back up at Kravitz and says “Take it easy, ghost rider! And thanks for the golden fiddle!”

Kravitz waves at Barry and Lup before riding down the street and out of town. Before Kravitz could get too far out of the town, he heard a voice shout from behind him.

“HEY! Hey woah woah woah! Bone daddy!”

Kravitz turned and saw the handsome elf from before (Taako?) riding toward him on his own horse. He slowed down right as he got to Kravitz and rode next to him.

“Think you were gonna leave without saying goodbye?”

Taako was even more handsome up close, and it threw Kravitz off so much that he forgot to keep up the accent that he’d been doing the whole time.

“Um…can’t say goodbye if we didn’t even say hello.”

Taako laughed a little hysterically. “Holy shit. That accent wasn’t even real?!” He tipped his head back and laughed for real. Kravitz secretly wanted him to keep laughing forever. “You’re a fucking dork!! Oh my god!”

Kravitz bristled a little at that. “I am not.”

“Um, yeah you are. You come in here all:” and at this, Taako, dropped his voice comically low and adopted a ridiculous accent. “Wotcher, I’m here to collect your bloody souls, mate. Wanna cuppa tea? Pip pip and all that!” Taako laughed again. “And then the accent isn’t even real!!”

Kravitz’s blush deepened and spread down his neck but couldn’t stop himself from laughing with Taako at how ridiculous it did sound. “Did I really sound like that?”

“Oh don’t worry, thug. It’s hella cute. I love a dorky man.” Taako looked at Kravitz and Kravitz looked back, both pretty enamored with the other. Taako held his hand out. “I’m Taako. Y’know from TV.”

Kravitz took his hand and shook it. “Kravitz. Not from…TV…what even is that?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Taako said as he let go of his hand. (Kravitz wished he didn’t.) “So, not gonna lie, your fiddle playing was pretty hot. You’re really good. I was almost scared for Lup for a split second.”

Kravitz puffed his chest out at the compliment. “Thank you.”

“Well,” Taako said, “even if you had tried to do anything to her or Barold, I would have stepped in and stopped you.”

Kravitz nodded. “Right, siblings, yeah?”

Taako leaned in with a smirk, “Twins.”

“Twins?” Kravitz sighed and put his hand on his forehead. “Oh my god, there’s two of you.”

“Yup.” Taako said with a pop on the “p.”

Kravitz shook his head. “No matter. If I had won and you had tried to do anything, I would’ve had to arrest you, too.”

“Ooo kinky. Buy me dinner first.”

Kravtiz choked on thin air, and Taako nervously laughed. “Woah take it easy.” Taako reached over and patted Kravitz on the back, and Kravitz died a second death. “You’re not on the receiving end of a lot of flirting, are you?”

Kravitz regained some composure and replied, “No, surprisingly enough. When people see me, their first reaction typically isn’t ‘Let me flirt with the man whose here to reap my soul.’”

Taako laughed, and Kravitz beamed. “I must be pretty special, then. One of a kind.”

Kravitz clicked his tongue and shrugged his shoulders, “Technically, you’re one of a pair, because of the whole twin thing.”

Taako gasped and clutched his chest dramatically. Kravitz laughed at his ridiculousness. “Krav, I’m WOUNDED. How could you say that? I’m clearly the better twin. Now you HAVE to buy me dinner to pay for that cruel insult.”

Kravitz laughed as he put his hands up in defeat. “Alright, alright! You drive a hard bargain.”

“Hell yes!” Taako pumped his fist into the air. “Wanna do 8 pm next Friday?”

“Sounds perfect,” said Kravitz, and in a stroke of confidence that surprised even himself, he reached over and touched the Stone of Farspeech still hanging around Taako’s neck. It glowed for a few seconds and became still once more. It was Taako’s turn to blush as Kravitz reluctantly pulled his hand away.

Kravitz said “Now, I can contact you anytime and vice versa.”

Taako took a deep breath. “Sounds like a plan, bone daddy.” He smiled. “See you then.”  And without another word, Taako turned back around and rode towards town, looking back to wave at Kravitz.

Kravitz waved a hand back as he watched Taako fade into the distance.

All in all, not a bad day.

[wanderchyld]

Final PBIO/IOTNBO analysis and theory

This post is my final analysis and includes some questions I have as we go into the final weekend of one of the best dramas in history. It is VERY long as I consolidate and expand on my previous analysis and theories.

I also lost a big chunk of this post while I was working on the draft just a few hours before posting, resulting to this post as a little inconsistent. Excuse me if my points are messy and some points missing with some issues untouched (because I forgot 😭). I think most points can be linked back to my past theories so you can read up on them if you haven’t.

List of my theories before ep 14:

Do Heejae and the other woman

Moonyoung’s background and Go Daehwan

Head Nurse is NOT Do Heejae, she’s the previous housekeeper

Maybe Head Nurse really is Do Heejae

As usual, please note that anything I quote may be a mix of Netflix’s subs and my translation because I know Korean and Netflix tends to miss nuances sometimes.

Firstly, Park Ok Ran’s dead.

Let’s get this out of the way first. (You can read my first theory on her role in this whole saga.)

“She can’t come anymore.”

Can’t have her exposing Park Haengja. Or plot twist: she is alive and returns to save the trio from the villain 😆

No one’s memory is reliable

Not Kangtae’s as established in ep 6 that he didn’t remember his mother brought them to eat jjamppong because he’s the one who liked it, not Sangtae.

Not Sangtae’s. In spite of his good memory, it was established in ep 10 that he didn’t remember Kangtae saving him, so his memories can be flawed as well.

Therefore, not Moonyoung’s, and definitely not Go Daehwan’s.

There are few things that we can be sure because they are concurrent:

There was a female body in the basement that was disposed or disappeared.

The murderer of Taetae Bros’ mother wore Moonyoung’s mother’s a one-of-a-kind brooch.

There was a body in the reservoir.

Taetae Bros’ mother was the new housekeeper (I saw that some people disagree but here are the supporting screenshots).

There were definitely two women

My theory that there were 2 women in Moonyoung’s family still stands and I’m expanding on it.

Let’s look at the family photos first. There are multiple versions of the family photo, and I suspect they were taken at different times. Here they are in what I think is the chronological order.

1) Photo in the basement: Go Daehwan had full-rimmed glasses, Moonyoung wore a scarf and stood closer to him with his hand on her shoulder, and the lady wore a fully black high neck top with the brooch on the right.

Before the family moved in, on the day Go Daehwan showed the lady around the house, he was wearing the full-rimmed glasses, and the house looked lived in (fully furnished, fully decorated, shelves full). 

2) Go Daehwan’s photo: Go Daehwan had half-rimmed glasses, Moonyoung stood right in the middle and without the scarf, and the lady wore a blazer over a straight neckline blouse with the brooch on the right.

3) Park Haengja’s photo seems to be the same as Moonyoung’s: Go Daehwan with half-rimmed glasses, can’t tell whether Moonyoung was wearing a scarf or not but she sat nearer to the lady who wore the same blazer over a straight neckline blouse without the brooch.

Go Daehwan had half-rimmed glasses when he realised his wife killed Taetae Bros’ mother.

Photos are evidences of relationships. In a group photo, the people who are closer would pose closer to each other. These family photos tell us that Go Daehwan and Moonyoung were actually close, and showed us the progression of Moonyoung’s relationship with the woman.

But why were multiple photos taken? If they were the same woman, why are they still hiding the woman’s face in the photos?

When Go Daehwan killed his wife, he said, “If I die, my daughter will become a monster like you.”

Why was it “my daughter” and not “our daughter?” It’s even odder for Koreans because being a very collectivist society, they don’t claim people or objects as mine. They say “our country,” “our father,” “our daughter” to show unity even when they actually mean “my country,” “my father,” “my daughter.”

Moonyoung insisted she’s an orphan. Technically, when one biological parent dies, the child is an orphan (single orphan). So perhaps Moonyoung’s not wrong. And as explored in my second theory post, she might have been referring to her biological mother. The abusive woman was probably her stepmother.

Go Daehwan told Director Oh that his wife loved Moonyoung “terribly. Very terribly,” and we have Moonyoung who doesn’t want a child to not get jealous over Kangtae’s affection. Judging by the family photos (Moonyoung posing closer to the woman each time), perhaps the stepmother was jealous of the father-daughter relationship and became obsessed with Moonyoung.

Would a child be afraid of their parent because they didn’t want to be hated? I was just afraid my mother would scold me (which was a lot). Right, we can argue that her mother was abusive, but this is something to think about.

Park Haengja: stepmother and crazy aunt

Bluebeard the French folklore, which ep 6 was based on, is about a man who married several times as he killed his disobedient wives. According to Wikipedia, his final wife had invited her sister and others over for a party before she snuck away to explore the forbidden room. Bluebeard found out and was about to kill her on the spot when her sister and brothers arrived to kill Bluebeard.

It was also in ep 6 when Taetae Bros moved in that they specifically had a shot of the dolls in Moonyoung’s old room (the brothers’ new room). I mentioned this previously: one male doll as Go Daehwan, two female dolls in similar dresses as Moonyoung’s mother and stepmother, and one small female doll.

You can see the two dolls behind little Moonyoung in her memory of her father reading her a book.

The dolls are a representation of the Go family in the house because in ep 7, only the small female doll (Moonyoung) was left, and I think there are 2 more new figurines as Taetae Bros on that cabinet but I can’t be bothered to search for a clearer shot 😁

When Go Daehwan strangled little Moonyoung, afraid she would become like her mother, they featured one of the dolls in the shot.

The point of mentioning the dolls is: Moonyoung’s mother wore a similar dress as the dolls in most of the flashbacks.

Ep 13 was based on the Korean folklore The Story of Janghwa and Hongryeon and its popular movie adaptation The Tale of Two Sisters (2003). IOTNBO has more links to this story than “the bystander is worse than the abuser.”

In the movie, Moon Geunyoung’s character frequently dressed in floral patterns (like the dolls’ and Moonyoung’s mother’s dresses).

In both the folklore and the movie, the sisters were named after rose and lotus flowers. In the folklore, it’s the sister that died who was named after the rose flower. In the movie, it’s the surviving sister that was named after the rose flower. The rose is also a motif of Moonyoung’s mother.

The flower language of rose is love and passion. Personally, considering how Moonyoung always thought of her mother when she brushed her hair, and her love for a head pat, I think the rose also symbolises her mother’s "affection."

The movie is a story of two sisters who were abused by their stepmother so badly that one of them died. As it turns out, the remaining sister developed dissociative identity disorder (DID; the same disorder as the patient Yoo Sunhae) with two other personalities: her dead sister (Moon Geunyoung’s character) and her stepmother.

I take this as a lead that Moonyoung has a stepmother, who also happens to be her aunt obsessed with her sister. Wicked Witch of the West (WWOTW) coveted Wicked Witch of the East’s (WWOTE) ruby shoes; perhaps the aunt wanted to be in her sister’s shoes, figuratively AND literally.

Now here’s another ��coincidence” from the same:

Left: Moon Geunyoung. Right: Im Soojung (sister with DID).

The story Go Daehwan read to little Moonyoung mentioned a bad wizard that wasn’t invited to the birthday party so he went to the castle.

The story Go Daehwan read to little Moonyoung mentioned a bad wizard that wasn’t invited to the birthday party so he/she went to the castle to cause trouble. 

Glinda the Good Witch of the North described WWOTW as worse than WWOTE.

Go Daehwan, who had recognition and memory impairment, said his wife has an angelic face but a devil lives within. Perhaps he remembers two persons as one.

We learnt from Sangin that 1) Do Heejae came from a prestigious family of medical professionals, 2) she dropped out of 3rd year of med school, and 3) she cut ties with everyone in her family. Could she have a sister in nursing? Could she have cut ties with her family because they cray cray (or the good old "you’ll starve with a creative career")?

Park Haengja has not claimed herself as Do Heejae, and the woman in the family photos are still covered.

Following these, we can assume that Park Haengja’s the bad witch who is neither Do Heejae nor Moonyoung’s birth mother. She’s the stepmother and crazy aunt (I cover more about the sisters in the next section).

There’s always a crazy aunt or uncle.

It’s just too easy if Park Haengja really is Do Heejae. I’d also be disappointed in the writer if she takes this route because it’s cliché villain and this is not a makjang drama with illogical plot twists. It would also be a step back from all the efforts this show has been making to dispel stigma against mental illness.

So they were sisters and...

...one of them died. In water. 

As per my first theory, the WWOTW and WWOTE are sisters in some adaptations of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz. WWOTE died under a house then disappeared into thin air, and WWOTW pretended to die in contact of water but she returned disguised as a good person. Sound familiar?

The Story of Janghwa and Hongryeon is a Korean folklore of a stepmother who abused two sisters to their death. She had her biological son push Janghwa the older sister into a pond and she drowned. The remaining sister couldn’t take the abuse any longer and drowned herself in the same pond.

The song “Oh My Darling Clementine” has a few variations but here’s the traditional lyrics (I removed repeated stanzas):

Oh my darling, oh my darling Oh my darling, Clementine You are lost and gone forever Dreadful sorry, Clementine In a cavern, in a canyon Excavating for a mine Dwelt a miner, forty-niner And his daughter, Clementine Light she was and like a fairy And her shoes were number nine Herring boxes, without topses Sandals were for Clementine Drove she ducklings to the water Ev'ry morning just at nine Hit her foot against a splinter Fell into the foaming brine Oh my darling, oh my darling Oh my darling, Clementine You are lost and gone forever Dreadful sorry, Clementine Ruby lips above the water Blowing bubbles, soft and fine But, alas, I was no swimmer So I lost my Clementine How I missed her! How I missed her How I missed my Clementine But I kissed her little sister I forgot my Clementine

These stories are all about 2 sisters and dying in water. Whether they’re sisters or not, a woman died and she’s related to Go Daehwan somehow.

The Murder of the Witch of the West

Do Heejae’s novel hold huge clues. Here’s my translation of an excerpt from volume 9 shown in ep 10.

… __’s scalp skinned with a hunting knife without hesitation. The corpse’s lips sewed in a fence stitch. The body dismembered with a hand axe and thrown into the trunk. Yooyoung persistently as she watched the back of the West Witch leave unhurriedly after finishing the killing and leaving notes.

"Who the hell are you?"

"Why do you choose to kill happy people only?"

But as usual, there was no answer. Was it because of Yooyoung’s tenacity to catch the West Witch? Yooyoung always sees the West Witch at the crime scenes. A faceless woman who always observed Yooyoung work hard on finding the criminal before leaving abruptly. Yooyoung began to look at the crime scene from the criminal's perspective. Why here? Why kill by stabbing this way? As she simulates the crime, Yooyoung finds herself assimilating with the criminal. She felt a thrill from imagining that she stabbed and cut the victim. She’s getting confused. Is she a detective or a murderer?

Around the same time, a murder occurred. The West Witch mimicked a passage from The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, everything was in line with the Wicked Witch of the West, right down to the signature butterfly design. However, Yooyoung somehow felt guilty.

...

The suspect was a middle-aged woman in her 40s.

Yeah.

The misunderstanding

Othello killed his wife because he mistook his wife for committing adultery.

Romeo and Juliet mistook each other’s plan. Romeo died from drinking real poison, and Juliet faked her death before realising the mistake and killed herself with Romeo’s dagger.

Janghwa was framed and wrongfully accused by her stepmother for being unchaste. Her father believed it. When Janghwa ran away, her stepmother and stepbrother chased after her, and her stepbrother (under her stepmother’s instruction) pushed her into a pond to drown to her death.

What did Go Daehwan misunderstand? What misunderstanding did his recognition and memory impairment cause? Why was his wife being crazy but looked so shocked when he turned her around?

I do not believe that his memory of killing his wife is a complete memory because it has been mentioned multiple times that his memories are corrupted. I think it’s fragments of different memories pieced together.

What’s going on with Park Haengja?

There are a few possibilities.

Park Haengja is Do Heejae’s sister who coveted her sister’s position and grew obsessed with her sister’s novel.

Do Heejae’s Moonyoung’s biological mother and Park Haengja’s her stepmother.

OR Moonyoung’s biological mother died when she was born, Do Heejae’s the stepmother (abusive but still her mother because she raised Moonyoung), and Park Haengja’s the obsessive aunt.

She got so obsessed she came to believe she’s Do Heejae.

So obsessed she was always keeping an eye on Moonyoung to fulfil the prophecy that is the novel. ("You’re my greatest creation," and volume 3, shown in episode 10 with Park Ok Ran’s copy, has passages that describes episode 3.)

Park Haengja’s the one who killed Taetae Bros’ mother (screenshots of Do Heejae vs murderer below).

She took advantage of Go Daehwan’s cognitive impairment and instigated him to kill the real Do Heejae. She’s the one who saw Go Daehwan kill the woman and hide her in the basement.

Do Heejae wore her butterfly brooch on right, the murderer wore it on the left. Do Heejae always wore red nail polish and a gold rose ring, the murderer did not (although she could have had them removed if it’s premeditated).

Moonyoung’s mother:

Murderer:

Moonyoung’s mother:

Murderer:

Clearly Do Heejae didn’t wear her brooch all the time, so it would have been easy to steal the brooch. However, Do Heejae wore her ring all the time, so Park Haengja can only get the ring after she dies and "truly” become Do Heejae.

End.

I think I recovered most of my points but they’re still feel incomplete 😭

Let me know your thoughts 😊

[kikinom]

Lost Lending, Chapter 1 - “Mortal Blood”

“You lost the book? How did you manage that? It’s heavy and gilded gold. A bit hard to misplace.” Serana said, laughing with disbelief.

“Yeah, yeah. Keep laughing. Very funny,” Duma replied, deadpan but with a slight smile at how Serana was laughing at Duma, mainly because he looked like a kicked puppy telling her it. “I honestly can’t remember what happened to it. I’m so sorry...” Duma trailed off. It was hard for everyone when they split. With Serana being called to finally tie up the loose ends of her fathers’ death and Cicero getting a letter from Nazir, everyone else split too. Duma had managed poorly working alone, feeling dazed and sad. He had a bad habit of forgetting things at inns he stayed at, including Serana’s gilded copy of Immortal Blood. “I’ll look for a new copy for you, there’s a large bookshop in Solitude.”

Duma was pulled out of his thoughts as Serana pulled him into a hug. He could feel her thin but muscular arms through his thick armor, comforting him.

“It’s okay, Duma. I have plenty of copies,” she said lovingly, a hand combing over the short underside of his hair.

He missed it, missed her, and returned the hug. It wasn’t a rare thing for Duma to be at Serana’s Castle, or for Serana to stop by the Proudspire Manor, but he always misses being by her side. She unwraps her arms from around him but stays close.

“The girls miss you, too.”

“Really?”

“Yes.  I get home and the girls seem more interested in asking about the next time Aunt Serana will be over instead of seeing me,” He says it with a smile, though. “Jordis and Livia also seem to like you, although it’s most likely how Livia likes any woman.” That line makes a soft blush crawl over Serana’s face.

“You really shouldn’t gossip about your house guards like that, friend. And, for your knowledge, I do know how she feels about my appearance. I’ve heard it’s similar to how you feel about it.” Serana grins up at Duma, and Duma suddenly wishes he was wearing his helmet again. She leans up and gives him a quick peck on the lips, and pats him on the ebony of his breastplate.

Serana’s amber eyes focus on something behind him. “Duma, I’d recommend going to save your friend. They seem like they are going to eat him alive.” The comment quickly turns Duma’s amber eyes to the long tables behind him, where some vampires are talking to Hadien. He’s backed up to a table, obviously not knowing how to handle the small cloud of vampires who are very interested in him. Duma can easily spot the nervous look on the nord’s face. He smiles, one last time at Serana before he goes to rescue his poor housecarl.

“Leave the poor boy alone, brothers and sisters. He’s not for eating.” The cloud disperses with a laugh, going back to what they were previously doing. Hadien quickly looks relieved, and stands up from where he was leaning back.

“Duma! What do you need, my thane?” Hadien’s blonde hair sticks to his sweaty forehead, even though the castle is freezing. He’s lightly shaken, brown eyes wide, but has a relieved smile on his lips. His usual mask is clutched in his hands, his hood off. He has a mole under his left eye, Duma notices for far from the first time.

“Come with me, Hadien. I need to get a drink before we leave.” Hadien shutters but follows Duma as he heads towards the dungeon. Hadien still isn’t used to the blood and gore of the adventurer life, but he’s learning. Being taken out of the safeness of Solitude to wandering the planes does that to a man, especially one following a man as trouble-prone as Duma.

Duma grabs a key from the dungeon overseer, and the two men descend the stairs to the dungeon. He hears Hadien put his mask back on to cover the stench from his nose. Mortals. Duma can’t imagine not soaking in the rotting smell of the dungeon, the stale blood, the whimpering of the cattle.

“You can look away, you know. You don’t need to watch me,” Duma reminds Hadien, not for the first time, “Unless you like the look of my teeth.” Duma says the end of the sentence with a grin, flashing his sharp teeth in the openmouthed smile. Hadien looks away, and Duma can almost imagine the blush spreading up to the man’s ears and down his chest.

Duma looks away from Hadien and towards the cattle. There’s a new man in the cell, a nondescript nord with short hair, obviously cut quickly before he was thrown in. He’s shaking and mumbling to himself, as most cattle do. Duma steps into the cell and sates his thirst

---

After goodbyes and well-wishes, Duma and Hadien get onto the small fishing boat to row back to the mainland. Duma’s redonned helmet protected him well from the biting cold of the open air. Hadien’s hood is pulled snugly over his head as he watches Duma row quickly. It’s always too cold on the water.

---

“Ah, it’s my love, come to visit,” Madesi says as Duma walks into his office. Madesi is working over his papers, counting gold coins and checking his books. Duma kisses his scaly forehead.

“How is the business, my dear? Going well?” Madesi just smiles up at Duma from his work. Madesi is dressed in fine clothes, settled perfectly in Solitude. He leans back in his chair slightly to press himself to Duma’s unarmored chest. Madesi flicks his tongue out of his lips to taste the air, and he shakes his head slightly.

“When is the last time you bathed, my love?” Madesi asks. Duma just shrugs and moves to wrap his arms around his husband. “No, Duma, don’t even think that. Bathe.” he scolds, and Duma leans down to kiss Madesi’s head once more.

“May I ask about our daughters, or will I be scolded into a bath once more?” Duma asks in a childish tone.

“Our daughters are growing well, Duma. They bicker, but when is it not with children. Jordis has been teaching them how to better hold the rare daggers you are always gifting them, and Livia has been teaching them how to craft candles. Now, is that enough, my love? You smell like a skeever.” Duma nods, and with one final kiss to the top of Madesi’s head, he exits the room and starts down the stairs.

On the middle floor, Duma greets Jordis and Livia, who are flirting. Well, Livia is flirting at Jordis, and Jordis is trying her best to keep watch. Duma catches Jordis’s eye and she smiles. “My thane! You went so quickly to bed last night I never got to properly greet you. How have you been?”

“I’ve been well, Jordis. Hadien less so. He’s still breaking into the questing part of the adventuring life. He’s strong, but not as comfortable with the blood and guts of battle as he needs to be.”

“He’s always been a bit weak in the heart, my thane, but I love him like my own brother. Keep him safe for me.”

“I will, Jordis, although I doubt he would like hearing you call him weak of heart. And where is Hadien, now that we are talking about him? Did he go to see his mother yet?”

“No, my thane. He’s in the bath, he mentioned last night that he will see her tomorrow. Poor woman will twist his ear when she hears he didn’t leave to see her first thing.” Jordis says with a smile. They all know how Hadien’s mother can get when he doesn’t greet her the second he sets foot in Solitude.

“On Madesi’s request, I will join him. He said I smell like a skeever.” Livia and Jordis both chuckle at that, “Tell my daughters I have gifts when they get home?”

“Will do, my thane; more daggers?”

“They seem to enjoy them.”

With that, Livia seems to remember something. “Oh! My thane! Look at these!” She says excitedly, turning to show Duma a few candles. “The girls made these with me! Aren’t they wonderful?”

Duma grins at his daughters’ handiwork. “Amazing,” He replies, with a large grin. He nods his head at both of the women before turning back to the stairs and making his way down.

He can hear the water of the baths fountain as he descends the stairs, makes his way to the first door, and steps through the curtains. He can see Hadien already relaxing in the bath as he goes to undress. Duma folds his robe and sets it gently on the bench.

Duma unties the small leather band holding his hair up and shakes his head slightly, his greasy locks still sticking from being in the tie for so long. He steps into the water and Hadien finally looks up from where he’s relaxing. He feels Hadiens eyes quickly scrape over his body before he’s fully sitting down and Hadien diverts his eyes. The center fountain of the bath creates a calming noise. Duma wonders if Hadien’s blush is from the warm water or something else.

“Your mother is going to give you a talking for not going to see her last night,”

“Yeah…” Hadien mumbles before he slips deeper into the bath, submerging his mouth and bumping his foot to Dumas.

“We could go see her today, if you’d like?” Duma offers.

“Please let me rest a day first.” Hadien says, moving his mouth up again, “It’s my own death when she goes and talks my ear off for this,” Duma just nods at his words, and leans his head forwards to the water to wet his hair. It feels odd to finally have it down after so long of it being tied tight under his helmet.

“Tell me the truth, Hadien. Why are you so worried about seeing her? Is this because you were frightened by those four vampires?”

“Was it only four? I felt like at least twelve of them were surrounding me.”

“You are allowed to wait outside, Hadien. You don’t need to go in with me each time. I know you don’t like the smell.”

“Because it smells like rot and blood! And the cattle make me uncomfortable. I don’t like how they mumble. And all the vampires look at me in a predatory way. Not- not you, my thane, it’s just-”

“You really do not want to talk about your mother, do you Hadien?”

“I do not.”

~~~

(MASTERLIST)