#Dunk my love when are you going to wrap up Summer Nights so that you can join in the others?

[scrumptiousstuffs]

Don’t mind me….I’m just putting all the pictures from Q2 in one place 🧡🤍❤️

Q2 - The Heart Killers

[atzaurora]

수영하다-𝒔𝒘𝒊𝒎

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sᥙᥒsᥱ𝗍 һᥲrm᥆ᥒіᥱs

this is —> 𝒇𝒍𝒖𝒇𝒇 𝒗𝒆𝒓. | 𝒔𝒎𝒖𝒕 𝒗𝒆𝒓.

𝒎𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓: Wooyoung

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: fem!reader x wooyoung

𝒕𝒚𝒑𝒆: imagine (fluff)

𝒓𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑: dating

.ᐟ.ᐟ𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔.ᐟ.ᐟ: none

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: The heat was almost unbearable so Wooyoung and you go cool off in the pool, watching the sun set and the night break in.

𝒘/𝒄: 1.125

𝒂/𝒏: you all voted SO HERE IT IS!! >.< hope y'all enjoy this one! feel free to request anything or give feedback!

here's my 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕!

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On the sweltering afternoon of a typical summer's day, the heat clung to everything like a stubborn lover refusing to let go. The sun blazed down on the concrete jungle, turning the buildings into ovens and the streets into rivers of molten tar. Inside your apartment, the air conditioner hummed a sweet but futile melody, fighting a losing battle against the relentless heat. You looked at Wooyoung with pleading eyes, your skin sticky with sweat and your heart racing from the oppressive warmth. He grinned back at you, a mischievous spark lighting up his eyes. "You know what we need?" he said, already knowing the answer.

Without waiting for a response, Wooyoung jumped to his feet, his energy a stark contrast to the lethargy that had taken hold of you. "The pool!" he exclaimed, as if it was the most brilliant idea anyone had ever had. You couldn't argue with his enthusiasm, even if the thought of moving felt like wading through a sea of molasses. He grabbed your hand and pulled you to your feet, his grip firm but gentle. "Come on, my love," he said, using the sweet nickname that never failed to make your cheeks flush. "Let's go cool off."

You allowed him to lead you through the apartment, the cold tiles a welcome relief underfoot. In the bedroom, you both rummaged through the wardrobe for your swimsuits, the anticipation of the cool water making you feel a little more alive. Wooyoung pulled out a dark blue trunk and your favourite bikini, tossing it towards you. You caught it with a laugh, quickly disappearing in the bathroom to get changed.

Once changed, you stepped out into the hallway, and Wooyoung grabbed a couple of towels from the closet. The moment you stepped into the yard, the heat slapped you in the face like a wet towel. The pool shimmered like a mirage, a beacon of hope in the sea of heat. "Race you!" Wooyoung shouted, already sprinting towards the water. You rolled your eyes but couldn't resist the challenge, chasing after him with a laugh. As he reached the pool's edge, he turned and dove in. You watched the water ripple as he disappeared beneath the surface, your heart skipping a beat. Taking a deep breath, you followed suit, the coolness enveloping you like a refreshing embrace.

When you surfaced, you saw Wooyoung waiting for you, his hair plastered to his forehead and a cheeky grin on his face. He swam over, and before you could react, splashed water at you, the droplets rolling down your skin. "You little—!" you squealed, splashing back. The playful fight escalated, with water flying in every direction. You giggled as he tried to dunk you, his strong arms wrapping around your waist as he playfully tugged you under. Each time you resurfaced, he'd be there, ready with a splash or a tickle, his eyes alight with joy.

The fight went on for a little longer until you eventually decided you had enough. You told Wooyoung you were gonna swim for a bit. He nodded, swimming around a bit as well. You swam your laps, the heat seeming to fade away by the water wrapped around you.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, painting the horizon with strokes of orange and pink, the water's temperature became more tolerable. You swam over to Wooyoung, wrapping your arms around his neck as he held you close. The water gently lapped at your skin, and the tension of the day melted away. "Thank you for this," you whispered, nuzzling your nose against his cheek. "Anything for you, sweetheart," he murmured back, his voice low and soothing. His thumb traced gentle circles on your back, sending shivers down your spine.

Eventually, the light grew soft, the shadows stretching out like fingers reaching for the water's edge. Wooyoung took your hand and guided you to the side of the pool. He hoisted himself out with a graceful pull, water cascading down his muscular frame. He turned to you, his eyes warm and affectionate, before reaching down to help you out. As you stepped onto the cool tiles, he wrapped you in one of the towels, his embrace tight and secure. You leaned into him, the warmth of his body a comforting contrast to the cool fabric. He leaned down and kissed your forehead, a gesture so tender it made your heart ache. "You're the best," you murmured, your eyes fluttering shut.

Wooyoung's grip tightened, and he pulled you closer, his damp chest pressing against yours. He tilted your chin up and captured your lips in a gentle kiss that seemed to hold the promise of a thousand more. The sound of your laughter mingled with the distant chirping of crickets, creating a symphony of happiness. As the kiss deepened, you felt your worries drift away like leaves on a breeze, leaving only the warmth of his love surrounding you.

The sun had almost disappeared, casting the world in a soft glow that bathed the two of you in a warm, golden light. You broke the kiss, smiling up at him, your eyes sparkling with happiness. "Let's watch the sunset," you suggested, your voice barely a whisper. He nodded, and together you sat on the edge of the pool, your legs dangling in the water. He pulled you closer, and you nestled into his side, feeling the steady beat of his heart.

Wooyoung kissed your forehead again, his arm around your shoulder, holding you close. The air was still, the only movement the occasional ripple in the pool caused by the setting sun's reflection. You watched as the fiery orb dipped below the horizon, painting the sky with a palette of fiery reds and purples. The warmth of his body and the coolness of the evening air created a perfect harmony, a moment so perfect it felt like it could last forever.

As the stars began to peek out from behind the curtain of night, you turned to Wooyoung, the smile on your face mirrored in his eyes. "I love you," you said, the words slipping out as naturally as the moon rising in the sky. His smile grew, and he leaned in, pressing his lips to yours in a soft, lingering kiss that seemed to hold all the love in the universe. When you pulled away, he whispered, "I love you too, darling," and the sound of his voice was so soft it could make you melt right on the spot.

The night grew cooler, and you shivered slightly. Wooyoung noticed and stood, lifting you into his arms as if you weighed nothing at all. He carried you back to the apartment, the water from your bodies leaving a trail.

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[msookyspooky]

Its a bird, its a plan, no its ghost bestie with another passage!!

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Come alone, I have the info you want. -Z

The text was both forward and confusing. I knew what Z meant. They wanted me to come to the docs. At night. Which I would never do, considering I didn't know who this person was and it was shaping to be a cliché scene from a B-rated horror movie. But the other half of me was itching to know who this person was.

That's how I ended up here, at the docs at midnight. The night summer breeze was cool, which only made colder by the waves crashing and there was no one...at least that I saw.

"Hello?"

I immediately mentally kick myself. You think I would learn from watching horror films but apparently I have learned nothing.

Turning around to leave, I am greeted - more like jump scared - by a person wearing an all black outfit with their face covered by the all too recognizable butcher's mask.

My eyes go wide as I realize it's a trap and I begin running back toward the street as the butcher runs after me. But their faster. I am grabbed from behind and pushed against one of the big barrels of water they used to catch crab in.

"Wait-I-"

Not surprisingly, the butcher begins to dunk me into the barrel, lucky for me though, there are no crabs in the barrel.

They hold me underwater and I feel my mind go fuzzy and just as I begin to lose conscience, I am pulled out of the water and carefully sat on the ground and before I fully lose conscience, I hear the familiar voice of Ray telling me to breath and for a split second I feel safe with one person I hate most and wrap my hands around him, hugging him.

When I open my eyes, I am greeted by the harsh sunlight beaming in. I groggily sit up and examine my surroundings. It felt like I was on a boat...

Just then, the door to the bedroom opens and to my surprise, it's Ray...bringing in a tray of food.

"You're awake!"

"Y-yeah. Where the hell am I?"

He puts the tray on the table besides me. "Its okay, you're safe. You're on my boat."

"Oh."

awkward silence comes between us.

"I followed you...last night when you went to the docs. That's how I found you. I scared them away."

"You...did?"

The shock of Ray Lister saving me puts me into silence.

"Thanks...Ray."

Saying his first name feels weird...but I like how it sounds.

"Of course. I brought you breakfast and a change of clothes. I'll be just out there if you need anything. Okay?"

"Okay. Thank you."

He gives me a tight lipped smile before leaving the room.

-👻

Ghost!!! I love ur updates and snippets of delicious writing u feed us 😍😏

It's like Scream mixed with Fear Street mixed with IKWYDLS and I'm always eating it up everytime u share

Ray being our hero is so 😏💞😚

[mmvalentine]

Can I please get a moonstone palace bathtub smut for feysand???

Pleaseeeeeee

Honey I'm sorry this took me soooo long, this was actually the last one on my list before I decided to cut off my prompt intake so I did always mean to write it I've just not been having as much motivation lately! But yes, let's do this, let's get SOAPY!

Moonshine

Rhys was a little drunk.

Feyre had been at the Summer Court with Amren all day, up to their necks in meetings. Rhys had been doing the same at the day court and Helion conducted his official court business... differently. And so it was that Rhys got home just after Feyre, rather worse for wear.

"Feyre!" he called, slurring a little.

"In here," she called back, in the middle of folding some clothes away. Rhys poked his head round the door.

"Oh," he said. "There you are."

"In... our room? Yes, where else would I be?"

Rhys sighed. "I couldn't remember which house I was supposed to be at. I went to the house by the river, but it's all covered up."

"Yes," Feyre agreed, her lips twitching. "Renovations, remember?"

"So then I went to the House of the Wind," Rhys continued. "But Cassian and Nesta were there and kicked me out, so I went to the townhouse, and then remembered that Nyx lives there now- did you know our son is an adult who lives alone?"

"I did know that."

"So then I went to the cabin but you weren't there either... and here you are in the moonshine palace." He shook his head, and corrected himself. "The moonstone palace. Feyre we have so many houses."

"We do," Feyre smiled. "And you have had so much to drink. Moonshine indeed."

"Yes, well, you know Helion's rules. You have to do a shot every time you raise a new point. Or win a point. Or concede a point. Next time, I'm going to see Tarquin and you can deal with Helion."

"Tarquin doesn't like you, and you know I can't get through the agenda with Helion's rules."

Rhys looked outraged for a second. "Why?" he demanded.

"Because I am half the size of Helion. Maybe less."

"No, why doesn't Tarquin like me? Everybody likes me."

"Darling I have a more pressing question."

"Yes, what is it?"

"What... is all over you?"

Rhys looked down at himself, and appeared to think about it for a second. "It's marmalade," he said eventually.

"It's what?"

"A delegate from the human realm brought it."

"Okay," Feyre said slowly. "But why is it all over you?"

"You know, I have no idea."

"And how did you get it on your wings?"

Rhys turned his head quickly. "My wings are out?"

Feyre laughed. "Okay, never mind. Let's just get you cleaned up and into bed."

Rhys' expression shifted then, and bewilderment became something much more wicked.

"You know," he said, "the marmalade is quite delicious. You should give it a try. You could clean me off with your tongue."

Feyre rolled her eyes, and pushed her mate toward the large bathtub. Around the bathroom, candles flickered to life of their own accord.

"Or I could just clean you off with a sponge like a regular fae."

"Oh so you are going to be doing the cleaning," Rhys said, his eyes lighting. And with that, his orange stained suit disappeared and he pulled her against his naked chest.

Feyre landed with her hands on his skin, and her breath caught at the sudden movement. She made to push him away, but when she looked up at his face Rhys was looking at her with an intensity she did not think he was capable of in his inebriated state.

"You're joining me, yes?" Rhys purred, and already his hands were pulling at the fastenings behind her back.

"Well I-"

"Of course you are," and then faster than she expected he had the dress falling around her feet, and his teeth on her left nipple.

"Woah, okay, down boy," she struggled out. "You have sticky stuff in your hair."

"Marmalade," Rhys reminded her.

"Right." She led Rhys to the tub, and they both climbed in. Feyre bundled her hair on top of her head while Rhys located the aforementioned sponge, and handed it to her. He waved his hand and the tub filled with bubbles, and beneath them Rhys pulled Feyre's legs to circle around his waist. She slid along the smooth bottom of the tub, and when she reached Rhys she found him suddenly hard between her legs.

Her eyes went wide, but she did not acknowledge it. Instead, plunged the sponge into the water and then rubbed it over Rhys' chest and neck where the sticky substance had gotten under his shirt. Rhys, his hands idle, scooped hot water up Feyre's back and shoulders, and let his fingertips follow the line of her spine.

"We haven't had a bath together in ages," he said softly, eyes on her ear where his thumb stroked, as his palm rested against the side of her throat.

"Well," Feyre said, trying to concentrate on cleaning him up, "it's not often you're in need of such thorough cleaning."

Rhys reached forward and pulled Feyre up onto his lap, his cock now pressing insistently against her.

"Maybe I should get dirty more often then," he murmured, and then Feyre was avoiding his gaze as she dunked the sponge again and used it to clean the stuff out of his hair. A sweet orange smell was drifting through the steam as she went.

"You know you don't have to go to such extreme measures for us to spend time together," Feyre said, and then swiped the soapy sponge all the way down one of Rhys' wings.

Rhys shuddered violently in shock and pleasure as Feyre collected more water and rubbed down his other wing.

"Ohhh darling," he groaned. "Do that again."

Feyre bit back a smile and moved the sponge in circles, peering over Rhys' shoulder and carefully wiping away all the marks on the leathery surface. Rhys' hands had left her back and were now gripping the edges of the tub. His forehead was leaning against her chest, and she made sure to get her sponge into the curves of his joints, and around the base of his wing's talon. She lifted a wing back to get the underside, and pretended to not notice the way Rhys' cock twitched beneath her as she wiped rough strokes down the inside edge.

Rhys groaned again, and put his teeth in her shoulder. Feyre was fairly satisfied that she had gotten the muck off him, and was now squeezing water over him to clear the suds off.

"Is that better?" she crooned.

"Mmm it's the most exquisite torture," Rhys replied, and started to move her hips with his hands so that she was sliding up and down in his lap while she swirled more hot water over his wings. His motion stuttered when she ran the sponge over a particularly sensitive spot, and then he had his arms tight around her and then he had his mouth on hers and was leaning forward to kiss her harder.

Feyre dropped the sponge and tangled her hands in his hair. She had always loved how he looked with his hair wet and slicked back. Rhys kissed her greedily, and she had to admit she was also quite fond of fooling around when Rhys was tipsy. There was just something a little looser, a little messy but sexy about him when he was handsy-drunk, and even though Feyre hadn't been drinking, the intoxication seemed to be contagious.

Feyre drank the taste of moonshine off Rhys' lips and got lost in the tingling sensation where his fingers gripped her. And then he lifted her hips and brought her right down on his cock under the water.

It should be so familiar by now. A hundred years together, and one might think this wouldn't surprise Feyre anymore. But every time, every single time the pleasure of Rhys inside her was almost too much to bear. Feyre cried out and grabbed a hold of his shoulders, hanging on tightly as he started to bounce her in his lap.

"Fuuuck Feyre, fuck," Rhys groaned, as his head fell back against the edge of the tub and his hips tilted up to get deeper inside her. His eyes closed but his hands clutched tighter, and then Feyre took a hold of the sides of the tub to get leverage as they quickened their pace. "Gods you could kill a male fucking like this."

Rhys sat up suddenly, water sloshing noisily as closed his mouth over one of her breasts. His hand came up to massage the other, and his free hand squeezed her backside. Feyre moaned as his teeth touched her nipple, and changed her motion so that she was grinding into his lap instead of moving up and down. Rhys' tongue flicked over her peaked nipple and it seemed to echo in her clit, over and over until she was clawing at his neck and pushing back her orgasm, trying to stretch the feeling out.

Rhys saw it coming, dragged her mouth back to his and then kissed her with her tongue sucked into his mouth as he got his hands back on her hips and slammed into her exactly how he wanted it and not letting her hold anything back. And then she was screaming as she climaxed, head tipped back and sweat and steam and bubbles plastering the stray strands to her face as she came apart in the bathtub. Rhys was not far behind, and Feyre reveled in the unguarded, unrestrained sounds that he made, too.

When they had stopped moving, they sat for minutes just curled together like that. Eventually, Rhys yawned and Feyre kissed his head before whispering "Let's go to bed."

"I'll just sleep here," Rhys mumbled.

"You can't sleep in the bathtub," Feyre argued.

"Sure I can," Rhys said. "I'm doing it right now."

Feyre rolled her eyes, and disentangled herself from Rhys' arms. He growled in protest, but she managed to climb out of the tub and wrap a towel around herself.

"Alright your turn, come on."

Rhys slid down in the bath.

"Come on you big baby." Feyre reached in and hauled her giant, heavy mate out of the water with some difficulty, and decided it would be easier to magic him dry.

Rhys practically fell into bed and was asleep within seconds- but not before he managed to grab a hold of Feyre, pull her tight into his body, and kiss the back of her neck while his arms wound round her middle.

"Good night my love," Feyre said quietly, and then used magic again to send their clothes to the laundry and snuff the candles out, since once Rhys was unconscious and wrapped around her like this, there was no getting up until morning.

****

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @stardelia @feysand-loml @tillyrubes10 @ratabrasileira @live-the-fangirl-life @maybekindasortaace @annejulianneh111 @thebonecarver @rowaelinismyotp @loosingdreams @whythefuckdoiexist @inejsarrow @swankii-art-teacher @sjmships @courtofjurdan @teddytdr @positivewitch @thalia-2-rose @darling-archeron @rapunzel1523 @fairchildjace @philosophorumaurum02 @story-scribbler @allthecolorsneverseen @asteria-of-mars @fandomstalker27

[aomine-ryo]

Your last ask was seriously funny! We need more of that. If possible, can I request different scenrios where the s/o of the gom gets asked questions by the s/o of their boyfriend's teammate(s) about their night (because reader has a looot of love marks).... this is so freaking specific, im sorry😂😂 if you cant do it it fine, if you do, then i appreciate you and your writings (i love your blog and im also a simp for Aomine)

Aren’t we all a simp for Aomine 😭💕 I really couldn’t think of anything for Midorima and Murasakibara without it being too repetitive and boring so I unfortunately left them out of this one, so I’m sorry and I hope you don’t mind too much!! xx

Scenario: Kuroko, Kise, Aomine and Akashi’s s/o being questioned about their love marks

Kuroko

It was a rather chilly Wednesday afternoon and you were watching Seirin’s practice as you usually would. While you initially came there to watch your boyfriend play, you actually also ended up becoming quite close with Kagami, Izuki and Mitobe’s significant others who also came to watch quite often.

As you watched over the practice while chatting away with your friends, you began to feel rather warm due to the gym’s heating, so you took off the scarf that you’d wrapped around your neck. Not thinking too much of it, you continued with your conversation, only to notice that your friends had their eyes fixated on your neck. “Why are you guys looking at me like that?” you questioned, trying to decipher the strange smirks and nods they shared with each other.

“Y/N, your neck...” Mitobe’s s/o trailed off, getting caught up in giggles before they could finish.

“What? Is there something on my neck?” you asked, beginning to panic as your hand immediately reached for it in the fear that there was a bug on it.

“I’m guessing you and Kuroko had some fun last night,” Kagami’s s/o giggled, causing you to freeze as you came to a realisation of what they were referring to.

You quickly wrapped the scarf around your neck again to conceal the red marks your boyfriend had left the night before. Filled with embarrassment, your averted your gaze and fixated on the boys’ practice to avoid making eye contact with your friends. Of course, they didn’t let you off the hook that easily.

“I didn’t think Kuroko was the type to leave marks, but damn he really went to town on your neck, huh Y/N?” Kagami’s s/o teased, making your face turn red with embarrassment.

“Shut up,” you grumbled, letting out a nervous chuckle.

“So, was yesterday a special night? Or does he always leave marks like those?” Mitobe’s s/o interrogated.

“It’s always the quiet ones...”

“Oh my God, stop,” you said, unable to hold back the giggles from the ridiculousness of their comments. “It was just a normal night okay?”

The two of them shared a look before hooting a long “oooooh,” making you wish you didn’t say anything at all.

“So it’s a normal thing then?” Kagami’s s/o continued, the grins on their faces growing wider and wider.

“I’m gonna pretend like I can’t hear you,” you said finally, looking everywhere but at them. You didn’t lie when you said that though. They kept teasing you, but you just sat there as though they weren’t talking to you.

Eventually, they got tired of it, but they didn’t hesitate to shoot you knowing glares when practice ended and you hurried over to Kuroko to escape them.

“Is everything okay?” Kuroko asked you, when he noticed how much of a hurry you were in to leave.

“Yeah, they just saw the marks from last night,” you informed him, making him blush at the memory of the previous night’s events. “So can we just leave before they come here and embarrass me even more?”

Not wanting to draw any attention to himself, Kuroko agreed with you after letting out a small chuckle. “Sorry about that, Y/N,” he said sincerely, not knowing how he’d respond to remarks if he were in your position.

You gave his hand a tight squeeze and flashed him a reassuring smile. “It’s alright, I’ll let it slide because last night was really fun,” you beamed, causing his face to flush red before the two of you left the gym after exchanging brisk goodbyes with the team.

Kise

It was just another practice day at Kaijo where you were casually chatting with your friends. They weren’t normally people you would hang out with, but you’d gotten quite close during these practices since they were the significant others of your boyfriend, Kise’s teammates. Whilst you considered them friends, they weren’t exactly close enough where you’d feel comfortable sharing personal details about your relationship, so you would often stick to light hearted stuff— which you quite enjoyed because they always gave you a good laugh.

“Y/N, is this the first time you’re wearing a scarf?” Moriyama’s s/o asked you, eyeing the bright blue scarf that Kise lent you this morning.

“Yeah, it is,” you nodded.

“I can tell. It’s really not your usual style— it’s not even wrapped properly,” they continued, giving you a pitiful chuckle as Kasamatsu’s s/o bobbed their head in agreement.

“Yeah, I know. I was trying something new, but I’m not sure I like it,” you sighed, fiddling with the end of it. To be honest, you didn’t even want to wear it. It was only there to cover up the bright red marks Kise left all over your neck the night before. You wanted to cover it up with makeup, but you remembered that morning that you needed to buy a new bottle of foundation because Kise accidentally knocked your old one over while playing around with you and broke it.

“Here let me wrap it properly for you,” Kasamatsu’s s/o offered, shuffling closer to you and taking your scarf off before you had time to protest.

And just like that, you were left bare-necked, with both of their eyes glued onto you in shock as your face flushed red. You immediately snatched the scarf back and wrapped it back out of embarrassment.

“Oh my God Y/N! Your neck was covered in hickeys!” Moriyama’s s/o squealed, making you want to dash out of there.

“So you and Kise got it on last night huh? Go on, give us the details!” Kasamatsu’s s/o urged excitedly as they nudged your shoulder with their elbow.

“Details? It was nothing,” you said nervously, desperately searching your head for a way to change the topic.

“Nothing? Y/N, those marks were plastered all across your neck! He barely left any spots untouched,” Moriyama’s s/o laughed.

“Well, what do you want me to say? We were just messing around,” you shrugged. “Can we please move on—“

“Hey guys,” Kise chimed in, cutting you off with a kiss on your cheek. You looked around in confusion and realised that he was on his water break and began to prepare yourself for what’s to come. “What’re you talking about?”

“Well, Y/N was just showing us those marks on their neck—“

“I wasn’t showing them to you! You saw them against my will,” you corrected as you buried your face in your hands.

“Shhh, seems like you two had fun last night,” Kasamatsu’s s/o giggled.

“Oh those! I kind of got carried away, didn’t I? Sorry, Y/N-cchi,” Kise said sweetly as he wrapped his arms around you apologetically.

“We were trying to get Y/N to spill some details but they’re too embarrassed,” Kasamatsu’s s/o said as you continued to pray that this hell of a conversation would end. You hated how charismatic Kise was sometimes, because it often ended with him slipping into conversations like this so easily and just fuelling the fire.

“Embarrassed? Y/N-cchi, you don’t need to be embarrassed. I left those marks there for a reason— you should be proud of them!” Kise sang as your friends nodded along, a smug look on both of their faces.

“Ryouta please stop,” you whined as he only hugged you tighter.

“But those marks look nice on—“

“Captain! Hasn’t this water break gone on long enough?” You called out to Kasamatsu all of a sudden.

“Oi Kise, get your ass back on the court!” Kasamatsu yelled back in reply, causing Kise to sigh.

“Why’d you do that?” Kise pouted.

“Because I like watching you practice,” you said innocently. “You’re playing a game now aren’t you? Why don’t you go score a cool dunk for me?”

Just like that, Kise immediately lit up. “I’ll score the best dunk you’ve ever seen!” He said cheerily before turning back to your friends. “Take it easy on Y/N-cchi, it’s my fault after all.”

“Yeah yeah, we’re just joking around for the fun of it. It’s not funny if it goes on for too long anyways,” Moriyama’s s/o replied reassuringly.

“Great. Thanks,” Kise grinned. Just as you thought he was going to leave, he suddenly leaned in close to your ear and whispered, “You know, those marks on your neck really do look pretty— I might just make some more later.”

And like it was nothing, Kise strutted off confidently, leaving you with a face that couldn’t be more flustered even if you tried.

Aomine

It wasn’t unusual for you to have marks all over your neck since everyone had already gotten used to it. The first few times the team and their significant others noticed them, there were a lot of questions and reactions, though they were mainly directed at Aomine so you didn’t mind all too much. Of course, you’d still try to hide them as much as you could, but makeup is expensive and to be spending so much on concealing marks that would just appear again within a week or so seemed quite redundant to you. You also tried to tell Aomine to limit the marks to places that clothes could cover, and while he’d agree beforehand, he’d often end up getting carried away and doing what he wants.

It was the day of an important preliminary match for Touou and you met up with the significant others of Wakamatsu and Imayoshi at the stands of the arena after wishing your boyfriend good luck. Upon greeting them, their eyes were immediately directed to your neck— which you expected. You tried covering the marks up with makeup but they were still quite visible. Furthermore, it was the summer so a scarf or turtleneck was not an option— you weren’t going to suffer for something this trivial.

“Y/N, did you even try to cover that up?” Wakamatsu’s s/o asked with a sigh.

“I did! I think I need to get some better foundation, honestly,” you groaned as you took a seat next to them.

“My God, that Aomine really doesn’t quit huh? Even before a big game?” Imayoshi’s s/o asked.

“Somehow he’s even more riled up before games. I really don’t know how he has the energy,” you sighed.

“Don’t act like you don’t like it,” Imayoshi’s s/o said with a smirk.

“Well, of course I like it. Just let me complain, will you?” you joked.

“Haven’t you tried telling him to take it easy with the marks?” Wakamatsu’s s/o questioned.

“I have— many times. But he never listens.”

“Yeah, I don’t think he’d ever really listen to things like that,” Imayoshi’s s/o said.

“That’s just Daiki for you,” you shrugged.

“Well, was last night fun?” Wakamatsu’s s/o asked suggestively, nudging your arm.

“Yeah it was,” you said, beginning to feel slightly flustered as your mind wandered back to moments from the night before.

“Oooh, go on, give us the details,” Imayoshi’s s/o said excitedly.

“No way. That’s only for me to know,” you said firmly. “Besides, I’m way too tired to be going into details anyway,” you added as you let out an exhausted yawn.

“My God, how long were you up till?” Wakamatsu’s s/o asked.

“I don’t even remember— I think it was 2 a.m.?” you guessed, cursing Aomine and his stamina for keeping you up so late.

“Don’t you think he’d be too tired to play today then?” Wakamatsu’s s/o asked.

“He’s an idiot, but he wouldn’t be up so late unless he knew he could handle it,” you replied.

The topic quickly died out once the game began, and all of you were so consumed with it that all of you’d completely forgotten about the marks. And of course, Touou won with a massive lead— with Aomine scoring almost half of the points. He truly was incredible, you thought.

Akashi

You were often very good at hiding marks left behind by Akashi, but there was this one morning where you were in such a rush that you had no time to cover them up. So as you headed to the gym to watch Akashi’s practice like you usually would, he seemed to notice the red spots on your neck. As a smile spread across his face, he took his jacket off and handed it to you.

“Sorry for rushing you so much; I don’t like being late. Here, wear this so you can cover those up for the most part,” he said, eyeing your neck with a look that had no traces of regret whatsoever.

You took his jacket and zipped it all the way up so that it would cover your neck. “Shouldn’t you be apologising for leaving the marks instead?”

“I wouldn’t have left them if I thought I’d have to apologise for it. They look quite pretty on your neck if I’m being honest—I’m just saving you from being interrogated,” he explained coolly as you neared the gym.

“Well, I have a feeling that it’s gonna happen whether I like it or not.”

And just as you expected, when you got to the gym and met up with Mayuzumi, Hayama and Nebuya’s s/os, you were greeted with a few strange looks. “What’s up with the jacket, Y/N?” Mayuzumi’s s/o questioned.

“Oh, Sei gave it to me because I was feeling chilly,” you lied with a shrug.

“You don’t usually zip it up all the way though. It looks weird,” Hayama’s s/o pointed out. You didn’t realise that they were this observant until then.

“Y/N’s probably hiding something under there then,” Nebuya’s s/o said jokingly, almost as if they knew exactly what was going on but tried to pass it off as something humorous.

“What could I possibly be hiding?” you played along, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible.

“I don’t know, you tell me,” Nebuya’s s/o said suggestively, still clearly joking.

“Could it possibly be hickeys?” Mayuzumi’s s/o guessed, causing the group to break out into a chorus of hoots as you genuinely questioned whether they had psychic abilities.

“What? Why would you say that?” you laughed, still determined not to give it away.

“I want to say that I did some incredible detective work, but there are still marks poking out ever so slightly from your neck that gave it away,” Mayuzumi’s s/o explained, drawing all the attention towards your neck as the other two tried to spot it.

You let out a sigh, “Alright, you got me. I didn’t have time to cover them up this morning.”

“Let us see them!” Hayama’s s/o said a little too excitedly.

“Why do you need to see them?”

“It’s the prize for our investigative abilities,” Nebuya’s s/o said.

Rolling your eyes, you reluctantly unzipped the jacket, revealing the bright red and purple marks spread across your neck and earning a gasp from all three of them.

“Akashi really doesn’t hold back, does he?” Hayama’s s/o giggled.

“Sounds about right— it’s Akashi Seijuro we’re talking about after all,” Mayuzumi’s s/o commented.

“So, did you have fun last night, Y/N?” Nebuya’s s/o grinned.

“Well, yeah,” you mumbled, beginning to feel a little embarrassed as you zipped the jacket back up.

“There are a lot of marks though. Is he really that rough?” Mayuzumi’s s/o asked, a slight hint of concern in their voice.

“Kind of? I don’t know. It feels weird talking about it. But he has his moments,” you answered, not knowing how much you should be sharing with them.

“He just seems so cool and collected that I can’t believe he did that much damage, you know?” Nebuya’s s/o explained.

“Yeah I get what you mean,” Hayama’s s/o nodded along as all of their heads turned to take a look at Akashi, who was instructing his team about something.

“Can we please move on from this topic, it’s weird,” you said quickly, not liking that they were all probably thinking about Akashi in a whole different way now.

They were somehow quite understanding of your request and the conversation quickly moved on to a different subject matter so that whatever happened between you and Akashi remained between the two of you— and you hoped that it would stay that way.

[manonblaqkbeak]

The Night Sky

Hello, just something short and sweet for Day 14--skinny dipping.

i cant wait to get tomorrows fic out!!! it’s part three of my mini series i have going on.

anyway, enjoy!! :)

1044 words

Resting a hand on her stomach, Aelin hadn't felt that full in so long. Her and Rowan had indulged tonight, having fast food for dinner in the first time in years. They didn't particularly like it as they got older, but Aelin had a craving for it and with the stress of the next few days not close to being over, they had gone all out.

They had a picnic, the interior of the lake house they were renting was beautiful, but they always preferred the outdoors.

The stars were bright and colourful tonight, the summer air warm against her bare skin as she thought about the oncoming days.

Her and Rowan's only son, Norrin, would soon be a husband, and Aelin still couldn't wrap her head around it. It only felt like yesterday that she held him in her arms for the first time. He was the oldest of their two children, and was the quickest birth she had. So quick in fact that she ended up delivering him in the car on the backseat.

Her and Rowan with their newborn had ended up in the newspaper, and the newspaper clipping was still framed to this day and each time she went over that same bridge, she was always transported back to that time. Rowan was the same, because each time they would go over it, he would claim his hand started to kill him, reminding Aelin of how he had to pull over because their car unexpectedly broke down and she clutched his hand like it was a lifeline as he spoke to the emergency operator, Aelin swearing at him and the car as the operator urged her to take deep breaths, to be calm and that the ambulance would get there soon.

But her son was impatient and arrived minutes before the paramedics did.

Now she was fifty-two and about to become a mother-in-law. She hoped that they would wait for a little while before becoming parents, but ultimately would support them if they decided to have children sooner rather than later.

Glancing to her husband of thirty years, Aelin smiled at Rowan's tattooed hand resting against his stomach as he too watched the night sky. He still looked as handsome as the first day she met him, even when he grumbled about his crows eyes and wrinkles. They just made him more handsome in Aelin's eyes.

Aelin leaned over and kissed his cheek, a small smile gracing his face. “I'm definitely going to need to go for a walk in the morning after all that junk.”

“I'll join you.” Looking back at the still, clear water, an idea popped into Aelin's mind. Rushing to stand, Aelin stripped to nothing, feeling Rowan's burning stare as he watched her. Heat rushed through her at his stare, knowing that she could still rile up him even three decades later.

“What are you doing?”

“Skinny dipping,” Aelin said as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

“And why is that?”

Aelin shrugged. “Because we're about to become parents in law, which means that babies are right around the corner, and I don't want to feel like a grandmother right now.” Inside, she still felt twenty-two and not at all like a mother of two—even if all her children were grown.

Rowan choked at the mention of grandchildren. Clearly, he hadn't thought that far ahead. By the time he stood to undress, Aelin had all ready jumped into the warm water, dunking her head underneath to wet her golden locks—grey hair trickled through the strands, but Aelin would be dyeing her hair before the wedding. She was still vein, something that everyone knew and loved her for. She accepted that she was growing older, but that didn't mean she had to look like an old woman all the time.

Water splashed and then Rowan's arms were around her, kissing her soft cheek. She locked her arms around him, resting her head on his tattooed shoulder. The colour of it was slowly fading, no longer the stark black of when it was fresh—Aelin still remembered that day too. His arms weren't as muscular as they used to be either, but they were still strong, and still made her feel safe when she was held by them.

“Did you ever think we would get this far?” Aelin asked, basking in the sounds of nature.

“No,” Rowan said truthfully. “Not with how lost we both were when we first met, but I am eternally grateful that we made it.”

Aelin kissed his shoulder. “As am I.” They had both been miserable when they first met, miserable and filled with hatred at the world and at each other, but they made it through the light together. They made a life together, had fulfilling careers and children that they loved. It was far better than how they used to be; Aelin was a borderline drunk at 19, and Rowan at 21 was emotionless, his heart wrapped in ice. It had taken them a while to realise how they felt for each other.

Burrowing further into the warmth of Rowan, and deciding that she didn't want to linger on the past, not with how beautiful the night was, they stayed like that for a little while longer, but eventually, Aelin pulled away, a mischievous smile on her stunning face as she swam backwards. Rowan knew she was up to something, his heart thumping at the sight of it.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked, curious as she moved back further.

“I was just thinking of something...”

Rowan raised a silver brow. “Which is?”

Her smile grew. “That if you catch me, we'll have sex on the couch while—” Aelin didn't get to finish her sentence as Rowan shot forward, the water covering her even more, a squeal leaving her as he swam towards her, determination lining his whole body.

Aelin didn't get very far in the end, not that she minded as Rowan kissed her with every ounce of love that danced through his body—the very same love that she still felt to this very day, and to the day when she and Rowan would leave this world.

Aelin was a very lucky woman indeed, and would forever be grateful for Rowan, their children, and the beautiful night sky above them.

[helnjk]

Don’t Be A Stranger

Fred Weasley x fem!reader

Word count: 1.6k

Summary: breakups are tough, but they’re necessary. 

Warnings: angst. brief mentions of intoxication.

A/N: i’m so sorry this is how i cope okay. i might have cried writing this

flashbacks are in italics

–

It was silent. 

Having grown up being friends with and loving Fred Weasley, who was always so loud, so full of life and love, the silence unnerved her. It seemed as if every little thing, every small sound spooked her. Strangers’ conversations on the street that flowed in through the open windows, the ticking of the clock on the wall, the excited squeals of the children in the park nearby. 

She needed something to distract her, so she stood shakily and went to the kitchen to put the kettle on. The monotony of the task soothed her in a way, gave her something else to think about. 

Still, in the silence, her thoughts rang through, loud and clear. 

She was tired of it. Of sitting across from each other at the table, having dinner in silence as if they were alone. Of sleeping next to each other, limbs stiff and not touching, bodies working hard to keep the space between them. Of being unable to hold a conversation like they used to, instead relying on stilted exchanges to get through the day. 

They were both too scared to admit to themselves and to each other that it wasn’t working anymore. Spending their days skirting around each other, pretending that everything was alright. 

It wasn’t. And, Y/N realized as she dunked her tea bag into the boiling water, it hadn’t been alright in a long time. 

With a soft sigh, her eyes glanced at the clock on the wall. She had about half an hour until the floo in the living room roared to life and spat out Fred. The deep breaths she took, trying to steady herself, weren’t much of a help to her as she realized what she needed to do. 

Y/N loved Fred Weasley, of course she loved him, how could she not? But sometimes love wasn’t enough to keep a relationship alive. 

This was one of those times. 

They had grown up together, learned to love together, lived their lives together. Y/N couldn’t think of any memory she had that didn’t involve Fred in some way. He was always there, steady and strong, an anchor that braved the vicious tides and came out of the storm intact. But as time passed by, his presence had started to feel more like a weight on her chest, and the more they grew apart, the heavier the pressure seemed to be. 

“Oh Freddie,” she mumbled under her breath, despite being all alone in the big flat, “What’s happened to us?” 

As she paced the living room, urging herself not to look at the time every five seconds, she remembered all the good that they shared together.

The warm nights spent by the fireplace at the Gryffindor common room. How she would curl up into Fred’s chest, content with staying there forever, wrapped in all things good, soft, and lovely. He would press kisses on the top of her head, whispering sweet nothings into her ear, dreaming of what their future would be like together. 

“Mm, that feels good,” she groaned, her head leaning back against the arm of the couch as Fred massaged at her feet absentmindedly. 

Her boyfriend, who was in a conversation with his twin and Lee Jordan, turned his head at her statement, “Careful now, L/N, don’t want you sleeping on me. You told me you were going to get some coursework done. 

“Who are you and what have you done with my boyfriend?” 

He merely raised an eyebrow. 

“The Fred Weasley I know would never tell me to do my schoolwork over falling asleep.” 

The loud laugh that came out of him made Y/N’s heart flutter. In retaliation, he stopped massaging her and instead went to press his fingers into her side. The conversation about Wheezes left his mind completely as she struggled to leave his grip, her laugh echoing through the somewhat empty common room. 

George and Lee rolled their eyes at the couple, but said nothing. 

She remembered summers at the Burrow, the golden rays of the sun beating down on them as they soared through the air. The smell of freshly baked treats, waiting for them as they playfully teased each other on the way inside. 

“Oh Y/N dear, welcome back!” gushed Molly, holding her arms out for a hug. 

Y/N smiled wide, happily accepting the hug from the Weasley matriarch. She could easily spot the freshly baked apple pie, cooling on the window sill, her eyes scanning the familiar and welcoming space that was Fred’s home. 

“Alright mum, quit hogging my girlfriend,” Fred teased and rolled his eyes playfully. 

He was met with a light slap on the arm and a tut from his mother, “Please Fred, you spend months and months at school with this lovely girl. Give everyone else a chance with her!” 

“Yeah, Fred, who said I’m here to hang out with you? I’m definitely here to spend some time with Molly.” 

At that, Mrs. Weasley let out a laugh and hooked her arm with Y/N’s. The pair of them making a beeline towards the kitchen where they would spend hours chatting, having some tea, and ultimately preparing dinner. 

She remembered drunken nights full of laughter and giddiness. Of nearly falling over and feeling strong arms wrapping around her. The floating feeling that came with one too many drinks and stumbling through hallways, trying to keep quiet while getting to bed. 

A giggle rang through the otherwise silent hallway as Y/N tried to make it back up the many flights of stairs at the Burrow. 

“Woah there, sweetheart,” a voice sounded from somewhere beside her before she felt arms snake around her waist. The person’s grip was warm and strong, and Y/N’s cheeks began to ache with how big her grin was. 

“Freddie!” she whisper-yelled, turning in his arms to face him, “I’m trying to get back to Ginny’s room!”

“I can see that, love,” he chuckled. 

The younger ones of the Weasley family had had just a little too much firewhiskey that night, celebrating the fact that all of them were officially Hogwarts graduates. Well, most of them, as the twins hadn’t technically graduated. 

“You’re so pretty Freddie,” she gasped, cupping his face into her hands, “Have I ever told you that? You’re so, so pretty.” 

Fred had a hard time not waking up the whole household with his laughs, “I haven’t heard that before, no. But thank you.” 

She swayed slightly on her feet, succumbing to the way the liquor pulsed through her veins. 

“Alright, let’s get you to sleep. Your head’s going to be pounding in the morning, and I’ll put some hangover potion by your bed.”

“You take such good care of me baby,” she mumbled, pressing a soft kiss on his neck as they slightly stumbled their way to the room. 

Y/N couldn’t even bear to think about what she would do if–when–he moved on. Her throat closed up at the thought of having to hear that he was seeing someone else. Taking in a shuddering breath, she closed her eyes and tried to remind herself that it wasn’t working out, they weren’t working out, and that was okay. 

Too lost in her thoughts, she nearly jumped at the sound of Fred flooing in. Her eyes darted to the clock and it read a quarter past five, right on time. 

“Hey,” he said softly, brushing off some of the soot that came with his mode of transportation. 

“Hey Freddie,” she smiled sadly at him.

The use of his nickname gave him pause, and as their eyes met, a sadness washed over the two of them. This was it. 

“I think we need to have a talk,” she said, swallowing dryly. 

“Right.” He nodded. 

For the first time in what seemed like ages, Y/N and Fred sat side by side on the couch, legs brushing against each other, hands clutched tightly together. They sat in silence for what seemed like hours, clinging onto what they knew was going to be their last few moments together. 

Seven years together was coming to an end. 

By the time Y/N garnered enough courage to look Fred in the eyes, she had tears pooling in her own. She could see the softness in his eyes that was reserved only for when he looked at her, but she could also see the hitches in his breath as he tried to reign in his emotions. 

“Freddie,” she whispered, her palm going up to gently cup his face. The gesture caused him to choke out a sob, a lone tear falling from his wet eyes. He placed his hand on top of hers, shutting his eyes for a brief moment before meeting hers. “Freddie you know we haven’t been okay for a long time.” 

“Yeah,” he nodded, “Yeah I know, sweetheart.” 

Her heart lurched at the pet name, not having heard it for what seemed like an eternity. 

“I’m sorry that it has to end like this,” he whispered, “That I didn’t work harder or do something to fix it.” 

“It’s no one’s fault, Fred, and you know it. It’s just… time.” 

Her words were confident and sure, despite the fact that she could feel her heart crumbling as she spoke them. 

“I love you.” 

His words were whispered, as if he was sharing a secret with her. In that moment, he seemed so small, and Y/N almost took back everything she had said and thought about that afternoon. With a slight shake of her head, she tried to gain some of her composure. 

“I love you too.” 

“Hey,” he smiled sadly at her, squeezing her hand for the last time before letting go, “Don’t be a stranger, alright?” 

–

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[wlntrsldler]

I’m sure someone’s already sent this but from paper rings “I like shiny things but I’d marry you with paper rings” with George, I’m such a sap for George he’s all I can think of now when I hear this song 😂😂

PROMPT: based on paper rings by taylor swift (an installment of my taylor swift x harry potter series. to read more about it, click here) short imagine with george and yn pranking Ron and talking about their future together. 

WC: 1.2K+

HARRY POTTER MASTERLIST

-

paper rings (g.w one shot)

“Ron is going to kill us,” you chuckled as you messily smeared paint on the walls, ruining any posters that he had on there. You turned your head to see George with a large grin on his face, unapologetic as he covered Ron’s room with the blue liquid. “George! Not on his bed!”

“Go big or go home, my love,” he cooed as he skipped over to you. He kissed your cheek, sloppily, wrapping his strong arms around you, keeping his palms away to ensure he doesn’t get any paint on you. 

“He’s going to send me home because of you, Weasley,” you shook your head, laughing as you two stared at your masterpiece. You pecked his nose, giggling as he scrunched his face up in delight. 

“I wouldn’t let him,” George murmured, burying his head into your nest of hair. “You’re stuck with me forever!”

“Ooh,” you teased, pushing away from him jokingly. “Who said I wanted that?” 

He cocked an eyebrow, a devious smirk tugging on his lips. What started as a small prank turned into turning Ron’s room into a sea of blue. You didn’t know how you ended up here but after a few words of encouragement from Fred- “Why not just paint his whole room blue?” “Come on, Y/N! It’ll be funny.” “You know I’d help you guys out but it’s date night with Angelina tonight.” “Take pictures, though.”- you decided to go along with the ridiculous idea. 

George walked away, returning to his side of the room, or so you thought. You turned around, laughing in triumph, not seeing that George dunked his hands into the bucket of paint and sneakily made his way towards you. As you began closing off the paint cans to leave Ron’s room for the big reveal, George picked you up, swabbing the pads of his fingers on your exposed skin. 

“You have no choice but to be stuck with me forever!” George laughed, spinning you around the room with the uncapped paint can in your hand. The paint splashed everywhere, hitting untouched parts of Ron’s bedroom and the both of you. 

You squealed, “Weasley! Put me down!”

“Never!” he attacked you with kisses all over your face, enjoying the way you were squirming from under him. George didn’t even care that he was covered in blue paint that probably won’t come out in the wash. He mentally apologized to his mother for the mess the both of you created but at the moment he couldn’t help but not care. 

You tried to get out of his tight grip, but failed, causing the two of you to fall to the floor in hysterics. You landed on top of him, the paint can happily spilling all the remaining paint onto Ron’s rug. The once organized bedroom was now covered in blue paint with you and George right in the middle of it. 

George held your hips with his hands, steadying you as you sat on his stomach. Your hair tickled the side of his face as you leaned down to place a soft kiss on his lips. He hummed in satisfaction, pulling your body closer to his as he deepened the kiss. Your tongue swiped his bottom lip and he gladly obliged, parting his lips enough to let your tongue in. You let out a whimper as he squeezed your hips, subconsciously bucking his hips into the air. 

Before you could take it any further, the door to Ron’s room swung open. Ron yelled, “Why are you two having sex in my room? And why is my room covered in paint? What did you two bloody do?” 

Startled, you pulled away from George, trying to hold in your laughter. In a teasing tone, you answered first, “Surprise?”

“I’m going to kill you,” Ron snarled, nostrils flaring as he looked around his room, which was now blue from top to bottom. The paint reeked, too, and it was getting difficult for him to breath. His eyes met George’s, stepping closer to his brother, “Both of you.” 

George’s eyes widened, “Run, my love!”

He grabbed your hand, pulling you to one side as Ron tried to catch the both of you. Your loud laughter rang throughout the semi-empty Burrow as you ran down the stairs. Ron eventually got tired chasing after you guys, deciding that his energy would be best put to cleaning up what you two ruined for him. George dragged you out to a secluded part of the area, by an old tree that provided shade for the two of you on the sunny, summer day. 

He finally let go of your hand, chest heaving as he flashed his award-winning smile to you. George plopped down, leaning against the trunk of the tree and motioned for you to sit beside him. You sat next to George and laid your head on his shoulder. It took a minute before you both caught your breath, giggling as your heartbeats returned to a normal rhythm. 

“You’re going to be the death of me, Weasley,” you chuckled, punching his arm softly. 

He wrapped that same arm around you, placing a kiss to the crown of your head. “Don’t say that. I don’t want to imagine the love of my life, dead.” 

“I’m the love of your life?”

“Mhm,” George answered, not missing a beat. “That you are. Even if you don’t want to be with me forever.” 

“I was only joking, Georgie,” you replied, a serious tone to your voice now. You laced your fingers with his, playing with the sleeve of his shirt. “You’re the one I want.” 

“Yeah?” His voice dripped with fondness and a bit of apprehension because Merlin, how did he get so lucky with you?

“Mhm.” 

“When I marry you, you’ll have the prettiest and shiniest ring ever made,” George began, looking down at you as he started to talk. He thought about it a lot- your future together. He saw you two with a lot of kids, growing up with a big family would do that to a man. George saw you as his wife, dancing in the comfort of the moonlight when you were both old and wrinkly. He saw you walking down the aisle, wearing a beautiful dress, carrying a bouquet of flowers that you, Moine, and Ginny picked from his mother’s garden. He saw it all with you. He saw life with you. 

Amused, you looked up at him, “Yeah?”

“Oh, yeah,” he reinforced, continuing his story. “The shop is gonna be booming, my love, just you wait. Me and Fred are gonna be successful, I can feel it. Then, I’ll have enough money to give you the things you deserve. Diamonds, fancy dates, a nice house, you name it. I’ll give you everything you’ve ever dreamt of.” 

“That sounds nice,” you sighed. You snuggled closer to him, loving the way he blanketed you with a feeling of comfort whenever you’re around him. “But the only thing I’ve ever dreamt of is a life with you, Georgie. The rest of that is nice, yeah, but I don’t need that to be happy. I just need you.” 

George smiled sadly. He knew he didn’t have much and money was always tight. He always wanted to spoil you rotten and he felt pathetic not being able to do it. Hearing those words leave your lips, meant more to him than he could ever articulate. He kissed you softly, “You mean that?”

“George Weasley,” you laughed, taking his face in your hands. “I’d marry you with paper rings.” 

He chuckled against your lips, “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

TAGS:

@rexorangecouny

[ddullahan]

hadestown au 2

I HAVEN’T FORGOTTEN ABOUT THEM  it’s a constant brainrot tbh and i’m gonna throw the next chapter out because i’m experimenting with things so if you’re new here, welcome, and here’s the first chapter if you haven’t read it:  hadestown au 1 ------------ it’s a love song Music is everywhere in this world. From the hot, mosquito infested plantations to the coldest points of the north, it hums in the earth above and for what? It's off-key and discordant, but it follows the wind off the train tracks as if it has nowhere else to go. Yang remembers growing up on the tracks. She remembers singing with the winds, and hearing laughter in her ears. The Fates were always at the back of your mind, pulling you from choice to choice like there's fishing wire wrapped around your soul. Invisible, they beckon you away from home. They beckon you to the fires down below. She remembers thinking their voices sound unkind. It still sends shivers through her body. The idea that her destiny might not be good, or bright. But it’s not anything she’s dwelling on. She remembers her first melody. How it came from her tiny house hidden in the willows. Willows, with their long branches that wave in the breeze like the sleeves of a robe. Waving at the train, waving at her as she draws chalk flowers on her front porch. They're friendlier than the blues give them credit for, and when she was younger, she wanted the world to know. So she opened her mouth to sing, and the willows suddenly weren't weeping anymore. She loves those willows as much as she loves her guardian, and the little train station she finds herself crying in - but that's something for later. Yang's not crying as her hands dunk beneath soapy waves. She's humming, as she always is. Slow and soft, sponge scraping in time with the swinging door. Voices trip over themselves in the amphitheatre beyond. Everyone's excited for spring to come. The train is on its way. They just need to wait for the Queen to start their summer fun. Yang loves this time of year. There's dancing, and singing. Joy wraps around the rafters and the walls get painted in hope. It’s a rolling tide of an echoing chorus, too happy to be contained. She stacks the last clean plate into a bucket and dries her hands. She knows the festivities can't go on until the Queen’s grace touches the land - but there's something she has to do first, with these plates they've never used. She has to break them all. She has to meet her muse. It's a story that's already been written into the floors, Yang just needs to follow Fate’s wires threaded in her hole-y shoes. So without thinking too much, she swings around; picks up her bucket of dishes. She makes her way out from the kitchen. Except nothing can prepare her for the moment everything begins. Her feet slip into grooves she’s never noticed before. She’s thrown by the recognition worn into her soul - like this stranger across from her has touched it before. Like she’s already gone and marked Yang’s soul like a worry stone. Like she’s already pressed a divot in the shape of her thumb. Ink black hair set in short, fluffy waves. A sharp jaw and rich brown skin. There’s buttery yellow light in the walls that spill onto her face. It turns her lips into a plush, dark valley that Yang needs to sink her teeth in. She’s pulled away by the eyes, though. They're precious gold glinting with hints of amber. They're set under nightdark banners, black eyelashes that flutter like raven wings. They almost seem to glow with hunger. The sight is enough to knock the wind out of Yang's sails. To empty her lungs. There's something familiar in this awe. Aching and ancient, it moves her like there's fire at her feet. Suddenly there's a song building palaces in her chest, and she knows that melody like she knows her willows. She hears in the rafters. She knows its very nature. Yang's entire body yearns with the desire to sing. The world stops. And then resumes. As Yang's pale lilacs start to search gold eyes for that same, ancient ache - she has only seconds to understand something fundamental, and profound. That this is meant to be. That she’s known this woman's soul as long as she’s been alive to breathe. Longer, even. There’s something familiar in the mahogany of her cheeks. Something echoed by the trees. Maybe it’s because the song they sing is the same. Because willows are friendlier than the blues make them out to be, and Yang gets the feeling that this woman is not all she appears to be. Oh, Yang needs to know her again. The woman has a mouth that begs to be fed. She has a body that drowns in that tattered old coat. But it still makes Yang remember that she has an empty bed, in her house under the willows. She wants to offer shelter to those hollow cheeks. Though she swallows the urge like it's a handful of nails in her throat. There's enough pain in it to make her drop the forgotten bucket in her hands. The dishes shatter through the fuzziness in her ears. And it's only by a miracle that she gathers her wits. The miracle being Summer Rose in the form of guidance. She touches Yang's arm, asks her to get a broom. She has a knowing glint in her eye, but it's a little sad, too. Like she knows the world shifted two inches to the left. Like she’s known the story before it ever began. Yang snaps free of the binds in her feet. She jumps to attention, and makes a hasty retreat. Her hands are in her bangs within seconds of the door swinging shut. She stammers gibberish to Summer, who only smiles with love. "You want to talk to her?" She asks in a coo. "More than anything," Yang breathes. She's sure there's stars being born in her eyes. "Well, go on." Summer says. "But don't come on too strong, dear. She's still very new around here." "I won't!" Yang replies, already planning her wedding. "I'll - I'll take her to see the night sky, and I'll give her a melody! I'll sing songs about her eyes and show her the willows when they don't weep. I'll write her poems and maybe she'll agree to marry me-" "That's all well and good, dear," Summer laughs. She reaches up to pat Yang's cheek fondly. "But maybe you should start with your name. There's no rush." "No, but I feel like I've done this before." Yang presses an anxious fist to her chest. "I feel like she'll say yes." "Baby girl, you have such starlight in your eyes," Summer says softly, "And I support you regardless. But maybe, just for once... You should take your time with this." Yang frowns. Her heart doesn't want to wait. But Summer's face holds a deep, deep pain. Her silver eyes are gunmetal gray. She smiles, but still gives off an aura of resignation. It's the same look she wears when something is wrong, or will be soon. It has something to do with Yang, and the girl in the other room. Yang knows that age doesn't dare show it's face on Summer Rose. She looks young, for a goddess of course, but Yang doesn't know what she's seen. She doesn't know what it's like to live for eternity, though she tastes it a little when she sings. She doesn't know what it's like to be Hermes, but from the expression Missus Rose gives… it must be bad. All Yang really knows is that she took her in, when her muse of a mother abandoned her on the road. She knows that, and she knows how much she loves Summer Rose. So it's with her guardian on her mind, instead of the song bursting in her chest, that she says softly, "Okay, Missus Rose. I'll try my best." Summer double-takes. Her face is filled with surprise. The silver seems to slip back into her eyes with hope and wonder. "...Thank you, sweetheart." She says, stilted and unsure. "I'm just looking out for you." "I know." Yang smiles, blinding and bright. "You always are." Yang doesn't remember when she grew taller. She just knows that Summer, in her fast steps and suited splendor, has never really admitted that she was Yang's mother. Though that never stopped her from loving Yang just as hard. So Yang bends down, and gives the goddess' forehead a kiss. She admits to her shyly, "You're a good mom. One of the best, I think." Summer's eyes fill with tears, but none of them fall. She murmurs thickly, "When did you get so tall?" "Don’t know," Yang laughs, "Time really flies when you blink." "Mm." Summer gives a sweet grin. "Don't you have a girl you need to meet?" Yang's face flushes in red. Summer hums thoughtfully; skips away too fast to see. She's back with a soda, and hands it to Yang with a wink. "Try this for an icebreaker," She says, "You'd do well to take off the cap for her." "Th-thank you!" Yang squawks in surprise. Her usual honeyed voice cracks way too high. She blushes harder, but Summer is already ushering her out the door. It swings shut, and she is alone on the floor. The girl - woman, rather - is huddled at a table with her head bowed down. She's hovering over a ratty backpack that's probably seen a thousand towns, a thousand homes, and a thousand trains. She looks weathered, and cold. Yang desperately wants to wrap her up and make her warm. She needs to know her name. So she takes her first step, and then the next. Crawling over to her awkwardly, the bottle held to her chest. It's mechanical, the way she pops off the bottle cap. The way she watches it slip from her shaking fingers. Lets it clatter over to fingerless gloves. She sees a flash of gold hidden beneath those black lashes. She's struck stupid by the way they almost glow in their sockets. And they meet, lilacs to amber. And her heart screams, marry her, marry her. She feels a hole rip open in her chest. It gapes with awe and wonder. It consigns her to no other lover except the woman she swears she's already met.   The song in the rafters starts over, and Yang just stands. There's so much hunger set in the woman's face. It's a landscape of starvation, with valleys built from sharp cheekbones and soft black waves. Despite the insistence of the muscle in her chest, Yang takes a breath, and her wedding plans go out the window. Her every ounce of confidence seems to dwindle until the last of it drips from her fingers. Those gold eyes are suddenly too much. There's a strange, visceral fear in Yang's bones. It pulses in veins of gold. It's foreign, and old. It bleeds with desperation. She knows for a fact she's been down this road. That this lovely creature has held her hand before, and turned away. Promises stick to her throat and rot. Fruit of the vine filled with blight, and not a cure to be seen. A cycle that repeats. A tragedy that has always been. Visions of a future long past. A die that’s already been cast. It's all too much. Her heart seizes, and Yang - for once in her life - runs. She turns and wobbles her way back to the kitchen. She feels those haunting eyes burning into her shoulders. Palatial notes and flowering verses twist in her chest longingly. The song she feels inside her like a heartbeat starts to wail at the absence of her muse's name. The emptiness sits black in the cavern of her ribs, silent as a grave. She wants to turn back... but her feet won't obey.

[thatmultifandomhoe]

Knitting You a Home - 8

Pairing: Wolf Hybrid Namjoon and Human Reader

Word Count: 2,731

Genre/Rating: Hybrid AU - Established Relationship - Angst - Fluff - Smut - Rated PG-13

Overview: Things have changed for you and Namjoon. It’s been a year since the two of you got together, and despite a rocky start, it was impossible to deny the bond and love you shared for each other. But ever since Hoseok had been separated from his Mate, Namjoon has been withdrawing himself from you and doesn’t come home until late at night.

With questions far larger than either of you imagined, you can’t help but wonder if he’s let his past and old fears come back to haunt him. You had shown him that it was possible to have a home and be loved once before, but will you be able to do it again?

Warning: Talk of nightmares - discussion of Hybrid abuse - implied mentions of drinking, drugs, hybrid mills - abandonment - Underground fights.

Music Playlist:

Main Master List:

Knitting You a Home Master List:

Mated Love is Never Easy Series Master List:

Sneak Peak - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13 - Part 14 - Part 15 - ?

©thatmultifandomhoe 2021. Do not repost, translate, or use my stories without permission.

You weren’t expecting Namjoon to come home at a normal hour. To keep yourself busy after Luna headed out, you plated all the goodies you made and cleaned up the kitchen, softly humming the entire time as you refrained from baking any further.

When dinner came and went, you had curled yourself up on the couch. The blanket you were knitting was long enough to cover your knees, but it still had a long way to go. In the living room there were two large windows looking out the front yard, a picture-perfect view of the tall oak and evergreen trees that surrounded your neighborhood.

The sky overhead turned pink as the sun began its descent, washed out burnt orange lights streaked the sky until it reminded you of peaches. If Namjoon had been here, he’d find a spot outside on the grass and watch until the sky was overflowing with stars. By then the fireflies would be out and he’d want to stay, mesmerized as they sparkled on and off until you went out with a shawl wrapped around your shoulders and a teasing grin to try and coax him back inside.

The knitting needles had stopped clicking a while ago. You were so lost in thought that you set the project back in its basket and stood up, tugging your sweater around your body as you made your way over to the window.

In the summer the sun didn’t set until eight at night, dragging out the painted skies for as long as nature allowed for it. Glancing around the room, an old book sat on top of an end table, the cover flipped open to reveal thinly aged paper. It made you smile softly as you picked it up, flipping through it to find the small black typed letters of poetry written long ago.

He was such a lover of words, always amazing you with how wide his reading interests ranged from, to how he even viewed life and the world. After everything that he went through, he still spoke about the world like it was a gift.

Screaming echoed in the house as you shot up in bed, chest heaving as you threw back the blankets to hurry to Namjoon’s room. Under normal circumstances you wouldn’t have entered without knocking, but this wasn’t the first time he’s had the nightmares during his stay with you.

It had been over a month since the storm, and while Luna had said many times that they weren’t as over-packed at the Homeless Center, you didn’t have the heart to tell Namjoon that he could go back. At least here he had a bed – a real bed and not a cot – his own room, new and clean clothe,s and home cooked meals. Even if the Center wasn’t over crowded since the storm had long since passed, it would still be loud and crowded, the very things that Namjoon didn’t need right now.

Turning on the lamp on his night stand, you crouched over Namjoon to gently shake his shoulder. He was breathing heavily as he gripped the blankets underneath him, beads of sweat dotting his forehead and tears formed under his eyelashes, dripping down his cheeks.

"Wake up Namjoon,” you called out, briefly scratching his ear as it twitched. “It’s just a bad dream hun, it’ll be all over when you wake up. I promise.”

He painfully cried in his sleep, body flinching when you touched him, but you didn’t stop trying to wake him up. It hurt to see him suffering like this and you knew, had he gone back to the Center, no one would have attempted to wake him once they realized this wasn’t a one-time occurrence.

“It’s gonna be okay Namjoon, you just gotta wake up.”

It took a little more coaxing on your part, but with one final shake Namjoon gasped as his eyes opened wide, searching around the room until they landed on you. He didn’t look away and he didn’t rip his arm away, a positive sign in your book since he had been doing that the previous times you woke him from a nightmare.

He never told you about the nightmares. Instead, he simply apologized and said to not worry about them. There was just one problem, you did worry. You worried because you knew that whatever was haunting him had been happening for years and every morning afterwards, there were dark circles under his eyes.

You worried because over the course of the last month, you’ve grown to care about Namjoon.

The clock on the nightstand said it was three a.m. Knowing that you weren’t going to be falling asleep anytime soon, you straightened so you were no longer leaning over Namjoon and let go of his shoulder.

“Want some tea?” You gently asked, realizing that the two of you had been staring at each other without speaking, long enough to make your cheeks blush.

Namjoon glanced at the clock too, momentarily coughing into his hand as he tried to catch his breath. You weren’t expecting him to say yes, he declined each time you previously offered after his nightmares. Knowing that, you still asked because a part of you hoped that one day, he’d trust you enough to open up to you.

“Sure,” he spoke, his voice hoarse from crying.

Your eyebrows lifted in shock, surprised that he had agreed. You didn’t let that deter you though, instead you gave him a small smile. “Okay. Come on out when you’re ready.”

Namjoon nodded once and you left shortly afterwards, closing the door behind you to give him privacy. Internally, your heart was leaping around, happy that he was appearing to come out of his shell, even if it wasn’t in the greatest circumstances.

Once you reached the kitchen, you moved out of habit, used to making late night drinks for Luna, but when you reached for the tea, you hesitated. You didn’t know what type Namjoon liked to drink. He only ever had coffee in front of you.

Leaving the orange mug empty for now, you prepared yours with instant coffee, knowing that it wouldn’t impact your sleep. As the hot water poured into the mug, you rifled through the tea bags you had, fingers pausing on one labelled Chamomile. Luna tended to favor this one when it was an especially stressful night, claiming that it helped calm her down.

Namjoon’s cries echoed in your mind and the next thing you knew you were plopping the tea bag into his mug and pressing brew for the hot water to dispense. If he didn’t like it, there were plenty other teas for him to choose. Leaning back against the counter, you softly smiled as he walked into the kitchen, his footsteps silent against the hardwood floor.

He glanced at the Keurig behind you, eyebrows scrunching up as he tilted his head at the smell. You didn’t recall making this one since he’s moved in.

“It’s Chamomile,” you softly explained, watching as his feet shuffled closer to the table. “It’ll help you relax. I thought you might like that after your nightmare.”

The corner of his lip twitched and a faint smile became visible. “Yeah, that sounds pretty good right about now.”

Hearing the Keurig finish, you turned back around to retrieve his mug, grabbing him a spoon and the honey bottle as well. “You’re gonna wanna dunk the bag a couple times,” you suggested, placing it in front of him. He raised an eyebrow at the honey and you shrugged as you retrieved your coffee before sitting across from him. “I wasn’t sure if you liked it sweet or not.”

“Thank you,” taking the honey, he poured a small amount in and stirred, carefully avoiding hitting the sides of the mug. “I…I really appreciate all that you’re doing for me.”

“It’s not a problem. I know things haven’t been easy for you.”

“But you didn’t have to help me.” He spoke, holding his mug in both hands. “You didn’t have to offer up your guest room, or be patient with me and share your meals, but you did.” Licking his lips, he raised an eyebrow at you. “And you didn’t have to let me stay this long. The storm ended weeks ago and the Homeless Center isn’t as chaotic, but you haven’t even mentioned that.”

Your eyes widened, feeling caught in the act when he softly smiled before taking a sip out of his drink. “How?”

“Luna called while you were away at work on day. She was wondering why you hadn’t told me that I could go back.”

Damn technology, you thought, shrugging as you tried to hide your embarrassment by pulling your knees up on to the chair and to your chest.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he softly asked. Lowering his mug, the spot between his eyebrows furrowed as he patiently waited. “Why didn’t you tell me to leave?”

A part of you wished you were able to play dumb and pull it off, to coyly act like you had no idea what he was talking about. Namjoon would know immediately though. His ability to pick up on your emotions hadn’t gone unnoticed in the time he’s lived with you.

The words escaped you for a moment, so you shrugged once as you tried to form the right thing to say. It only lasted a few seconds, because when you met his gaze, it flowed naturally. “I didn’t want you to leave,” you found yourself telling him, unable to say anything but the truth.

He blinked in surprise, leaning back in his seat as the silence took hold again. It wasn’t uncomfortable though. You didn’t mind it, figuring he was assessing your emotions to find the truth in what you said.

As he gathered his thoughts, you rubbed a hand across your eyes in an attempt to ease the headache from lack of caffeine.

“I told Luna it was better for that little Hybrid to be abandoned now because it’s true. It’s a shitty thing to experience when you can remember it.”

Tonight, was perhaps the most that you’ve heard Namjoon speak, and you were surprised with where he was directing his attention towards. Ideas swirled around with what he was talking about, about where this was going to lead, but you remained quiet as you focused on him, allowing him to speak at the pace he wanted to go at.

Namjoon ran his thumb around the rim of his mug, taking a deep breath. “I’ve lost track of all the owners I’ve had. There hadn’t been as many when I was younger, but as I grew up, grew bigger and taller, I got sent back to the Adoption Centers until one day, one of them got lazy and dropped me off at the Homeless Center. I was maybe, fifteen then.”

“Even with all the constant changes, I always knew I was a Hybrid. None of my owners ever let me forget that. They put me in small rooms, sometimes I didn’t even have a room but a closet or a mattress on the floor.” Lifting his gaze, he gestured around the kitchen with a bittersweet smile. “Everything in this room alone, to be able to have a cup of tea and not be afraid of the consequences, was once a dream for me. Still is sometimes.”

Shifting in your seat, you set your cup down on the table, having lost interest in the coffee that you usually loved. Because you were watching him, you were able to see his fingers tighten briefly.

“It was bad,” he simply said, not meeting your gaze this time. “There’d be days where I wasn’t allowed to eat, where I was expected to clean up after everyone and keep the house spotless and if I didn’t, well…sometimes not eat eating was better than their punishments. Almost forgot my own name with one owner. She only ever called me Hybrid.”

A rock settled inside your heart at what he was implying, and suddenly it made sense. The way he flinched at your touch, how you always had to encourage and reassure him that it was okay to eat and have more. Your eyes watered up and you bit down on your lower lip, unable to control the way your emotions seemed to fly around.

His ears flickered in your direction, finally looking at you again. He gave you a sad smile, leaning forward and shakily raised his hand, hesitating only once before running his thumb across your cheek. His touch was gentle but it only reinforced what you were thinking. How could anyone hurt someone as gentle as Namjoon?

“Don’t cry for me,” he whispered, doing it again to the other cheek. “It’s in the past, we can’t change what happened back then.”

Your bottom lip wobbled, leaning into his palm when he cupped your cheek, both drinks long forgotten as you closed your eyes, absorbing his touch. He wasn’t done with his story and for some reason, you knew that it wasn’t going to get any better.

“My last owner wasn’t any different. Like the rest of them, he felt like he was entitled because he had money to waste, and thought he was better because he was human and I was a Hybrid. But unlike them, he participated in the Underground.”

Frowning, you almost leaned back to get a better look at Namjoon, but when your cheek stated to slide out of his hand you stopped, choosing to stay in his touch. “The Underground?”

He gently tapped your cheek with his thumb, slowly nodding. “There’s the good part of it, and then there’s bad side. The good is mostly known for the music and art scene, but that’s not what most people think of. The Underground is mostly known for its bad side; the drugs, gambling, the Hybrid Mills and such, but everyone just calls it by one name since the lines blur together.” Namjoon shrugged, still rubbing your cheek as if to keep you calm. “One of the popular events are the fights, and as long as I was able to stand on my own two feet, he had me in them every night.”

You may not have known or understood what the Underground was, but with a little thinking it didn’t take long to understand what Namjoon meant.

“I was big and as a Wolf Hybrid, I had an advantage over some of the others. We…none of us wanted to fight, but if we didn’t, the consequences were worse than had we just lost.” Sighing, Namjoon lowered his hand from your face, his gaze falling to the floor once again as his shoulders slouched.

“My last fight had been against a kid, barely even eighteen and shaking. The crowd was screaming and whoever his owner was was threatening him…all I could do was stare at him, wondering who the hell I had become. For a split second I had considered it, it would have only taken one punch, and immediately I was disgusted with myself. The fact that I had even thought about it made me realize that I was no better than the human who owned me.”

You blinked as your mind resurfaced from the memory, pulling your fingers from the book cover as you stumbled backwards. Even now, there was still an ache when you thought about the life that Namjoon had been forced to live, the things he had to do to survive until he was able to escape. It had been a damn miracle that he ended up at the shelter that Luna worked at and she had called you when that storm came in.

Sighing, you plopped back down on the couch and turned the TV on, hoping to ind on a show that could manage to keep you awake for the next several hours.

Please Joonie, you thought, gently laying a hand on the Mate Mark that you treasured and wore with immense pride. A life with Namjoon was what you wanted, what you still wanted, but it was starting to feel like the two of you were heading in two different directions and all you wished for was to find the spot where things began to change. But you could only go so far, do so much, by yourself.

Please come home. Please.

[mdotmaro]

Winging It

Author's Note: This story is set right after Vacation with Derek. Casey is going off to New York to like her dream as a dancer in a musical. But what if things are not what she expected? What if her dream was wrong? What if the most irritating person in your life is the only one that can talk some sense into you

And so the summer of 05 was coming to an end. The Blue Heron Lodge wasn't going anywhere, and Broadway was calling Casey's name. She sat at the dock, letting her toes dance across the surface, careful to avoid her heels getting wet. There were slight thumps on the floorboards of the dock.

"You know it's not much of a party if you go to brood off all alone. Maybe save the dramatics when you get on stage." Derek commented while he took a seat next to Casey. She chuckled quietly.

"You heard, huh?" She asked with a wistful smile on her face as she stared up at the stars.

"Hard not to when Nora and her hormones keep crying about it every five minutes; Casey laughed at that and wiped a stray tear from the corner of her eye. Derek eyed her and then recoiled at the sight of tears.

"Oh, come on, not you too. Jeez, I can't wait to be in University without all the estrogen seeping through the walls." He said and nudged her lightly.

"I am fine, really just taking it all in. My dream is really coming true, and I just have this light feeling in my chest that makes me want to laugh and cry all at once." She explained; he smirked at her.

"Well, if that feeling spreads to your right arm, let someone know because you might be having a heart attack," Derek said, and Casey shoved him.

"Yeah, I'll miss you too, Der, " She said, and Derek scoffed at the insinuation.

"Whatever, all I am saying is that New York is far enough away that it would be too much of a pain to Dad and Nora to go fly over and save you from whatever crisis you have; so" He cleared his throat and looked up at the sky and pointedly not at Casey. His ears were a tad pink.

"So, call me instead. But you're paying for the plane ticket." He added abruptly, but it was too late. Casey began to pout her lip and stare at Derek with tears in her light blue eyes.

"Aww, Der. You do care. Come here," She said and went to hug the young man that back peddled away from her.

"I take it back, don't call me. Don't touch me. Casey, I mean it," He said in a mock deep tone that made her glossy eyes glitter with amusement. It was a two-second pause between them before Derek sprinted up the dock with Casey close at his heels.

"Oh, come on, Derek, you love me, just admit it," Casey shouted and laughed after him. He blitzed away from her just as she was about to catch him by shirttail. Her fingers barely brushed the fabric. Derek thought he could lose her at the dock because there was no way she would risk falling off, Right? Wrong, one rolled ankle, and down she splashed into the dark water. Derek burst out laughing and continued until he realized Casey didn't resurface.

"Casey?" Derek called out and scanned the surface for any bubbles. A twinge of panic left his voice when he called out again. "Casey!" Still nothing. "Oh for the love of Peter" He grumbled before taking off his fancy shoes and jumping in and searched the water for any sign of her. He saw a dim image of a figure struggling against something. Derek swam over and saw it was her heavy wedge heel stuck between two pieces of driftwood. Casey was trying to yank her foot out; Derek broke the buckle and dragged her up. They both gasped, and then Casey hit Derek in the chest.

"Der-rek, those were my favorite shoes!" She panted and supported herself up by his arms until she could regain her breath. Derek stared open-mouthed at her.

"Fine. I'll just let you drown next time," He said and then smirked, and Casey's eyes widened before Derek dunked her head underwater. She swatted at him until he let her go, and then there was a splashing war. At one point, Casey was able to wrap her legs around Derek's waist and pushed down on his shoulders to dip him under.

"Casey, you are not allowed to drown Derek," Nora said passively as she waddled with her large belly to the bunkhouse with George. Derek picked Casey up and flung her back into the water.

"You heard her." Derek laughed at the haphazard hair plastered to her forehead. Casey dipped her head back to smooth out her hair.

"Let's get out of here; the water is freezing," Casey said and wrapped her arms tightly around herself; the dress she was wearing had stuck to her skin in a less than modest way than Casey was comfortable with. Derek unbuttoned his vest and handed it to her. She smiled and accepted the vest, and quickly buttoned up the middle. Jessie saw Casey from across the lawn and jogged over.

"Hey, Casey, a great night for a swim, eh?" He said while grinning at the waterlogged step-siblings. Derek nudged Casey's arm before heading out to the brunette waiting by the jet ski. Casey watched him go before turning back to Jessie. I guess you could say that. Want to go for a walk?" She asked while looping her arm through Jessie's.

"What happened to your shoes?" Jessie asked, indicating to her bare feet. Casey laughed

"It's a long story."

Six months later

The blaring car horns were surprisingly easy to adapt to. Casey particularly loved the little shops and cafes that seemed to flower at every corner. The organic wheatgrass and lemon zest smoothie was a favorite routine of hers before taking a run in central park. Rehearsal wasn't until 10 am, and Casey had to make sure to keep up her stamina for the demanding routine involved in the Jazztap Tango on Mango Street.

Casey was the roommate and unrequited love interest, Mindy. Jessie was the lead Georgio. He was taking his role as the Mainstreet casanova to heart. Whatever began at the Blue Heron Lodge was soon forgotten after there was so much research to do with so many women.

"I just need to get a better feel of the character. You understand, don't you?" Jessie explained at Casey's studio apartment. She stared at him and tried her best to stay civil. It was an act she had seen many times with Truman and certainly with Jessie. He wasn't exactly nonchalant about his veracious flirting as a waiter, and it only increased in New York when his charming shyness faded away.

"Of course, see you on set. K?" She said before gently closing the door. The apartment was basically a shoebox; she could barely practice her routine, and Casey was starting to get restless. There were a few framed pictures across the headboard of her twin bed. She picked up the last picture the entire family had taken together. Simon was just born, and they were all huddled together at the hospital. She smiled at the image that had been taken four months earlier. Simon must have at least doubled in size by now. Casey sighed at the knot in her chest and stared at the phone on her bed for a long moment before giving in and dialing.

"Yo, You've reached Derek Venturi. Leave a message, and I may or may not get back to you. Later" Casey rolled her eyes at the voicemail, but she still waited for the beep.

"Hey, It's Casey. No, I am not having a crisis. I just wanted to call and see how you were doing and to see if you had flunked any of your classes yet. Call me back when you can," She said, and that was two days ago, and she had not heard back from him since. The musical was supposed to air at the Radio City Music Hall for the first time that night at 8 pm. It was too short notice for any family or friends to be able to see it live, but they promised to come to the next showing in two months in Buffalo.

Casey quickly dressed and went up to the stage. "Alright, Casey, go up to the balcony and start from 'Carry On, '" The director Bernard Blue instructed from the front row. The prop balcony was just reinforced after a near spill last week that had Casey hanging on for dear life by the railing. Margret, the leading lady, had teased that Casey shouldn't have had that extra slice of pizza at rehearsal wrap-up. Derek said that she was being "Black Swanned" when she had called that night to vent her frustrations.

"You've seen The Black Swan?" Casey scoffed.

"Uh Yeah, Natalie Portman 'finding her sexual nature' on screen. How could I not?" He said.

"You're disgusting," She said, but they ended up laughing anyway.

Casey stared into the spotlight and let out a deep breath.

"Carry on, sweet dear. My mother always told me.

Carry on through these tears. Let them water your garden.

Soon the flowers will bloom and shade your views of the unkindness of this world." Casey's voice carried sweetly through the theater as she watered the small prop flowers on the balcony. Below Jessie danced and caressed Margret while Casey was made to gaze forlorn at them from above.

"But sometimes the flowers bloom is not enough.

Never enough." Casey sang with more force, and she flew down the stairs to meet the lovers, but before she descended, they were gone.

"Just living and watching you fade from me.

Even if you're happy, it will never be enough for me-" She ended with the saddest halt of her voice. The lights faded, and then she was shuffled backstage for the next scene. It had become just a monotonous cycle in her life. When did her dream become the very thing she dreaded each and every day. Maybe when it was when her dream became a job, and the freeing feeling she had when she danced was now controlled by someone else. She looked at the glittering face in the mirror. Casey had the opportunity to give into a secret desire to be a blonde for the role, but there was something different in her eyes. They seemed dull.

The play was a moderate success. There were no screaming crowds or cries for an encore like the director had predicted. Casey was honestly just glad it was over. When she went to the dressing room, she found someone in her chair. With a well-timed spin, Derek grinned at her, appearing quite at home.

"The real star is here," He announced, lounging in the makeup chair like a throne. Casey laughed and all but launched at him. She squeezed him in a hug.

"Chillz, Case. Can't breathe." Derek said but still gave her a gentle squeeze back. Some of the other girls began to mill into the dressing room and took in the scene of the two step-siblings.

"Aww, Casey, I didn't know you had enough time for a boyfriend." Eloise sneered. Casey gave the petite redhead a withering look.

"This is my step-brother, Derek. Derek, this is Eloise, Jasmine, Cossette, and Jamie." Casey said, milling off as the women eyed Derek with a predatory look. Casey wrinkled her nose in distaste.

"Oh, and is Derek single?" Eloise asked while batting her massive costume lashes at the man. Derek chuckled and got out of the chair, but before he could say anything.

"Oh, he is, but sorry to tell you, girls, he is gay. Come on, let me show you the city." Casey said before half dragging Derek out of the dressing room. Derek protested the entire time he was very much straight. Once they were on the street, Derek shook her off his arm.

"Jeez, Casey. Possessive much?" Derek complained. Casey shook her head.

"Please, Derek. Those theater girls would have eaten you alive." She teased. "Anyway, what made you come all the way over? How did you like the play? How is the family?" Casey rattled off as they walked down the street, the park was coming up, and they had a night market to celebrate the change into spring.

"Take a breath, Casey." Derek teased and shoved his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. Casey closed her mouth and made a locking motion while throwing away a figurative key. Derek rolled his eyes.

"You are such a dork," He mumbled, and she put her hands on her hips. "Well, I heard your voicemail, and you are still a terrible liar; you are obviously having a crisis." And he held a hand to stall her protest. "Yes, you are, but I have to go down the list before you go on this verge of denial." He smirked

"The play was sappy but good, I guess. And the Fam is fine, I guess, you can reach out to them too, you know." He said and then lingered over to a hotdog vendor and ordered a dog with all the fixings, even relish. Derek took a huge, messy bite and then offered some to Casey, who gave a quick shake of her head.

"I know, and I try too, but these hours are so long with the play and rehearsals and the gym to stay in shape." She sighed. Derek sized her up.

"What's wrong with the shape you're in now?" Derek said through a mouth full of meat. Casey grimaced and offered him a napkin.

"Chew, swallow, then speak, you, Neanderthal," Casey said and then looked down at her thin, toned arms. "The costume designer has been complaining about having to use extra material for my costume because I am not a size two like the other girls," Casey said and crossed her arms in frustration.

"You'd look weirder than usual if you were super thin like them," Derek said after finishing his hot dog and wiping his mouth. They passed a beadwork station where Derek tossed his trash in the nearby bin, and Casey looked intently at the necklaces.

"I agree, but that's showbusiness. I don't have enough curves to be plus-sized and not thin enough to be seen as a regular dancer. It's exhausting," She admitted while touching a deep jade necklace like one her mother would wear.

"So, quit," Derek said simply. Casey turned away from the necklace and stared at him incredulously.

"I can't just quit on my dream, Derek. I have sacrificed too much for it not to work out." She said hotly. Derek gave her a bland look.

"I saw you up there; there is no passion in you." Derek accused. Casey scoffed.

"Please. What do you know about passion?" Casey asked, and he shrugged.

"I have been playing hockey since I was twelve, and I have never felt like getting up to play was ever work. You have been complaining for weeks about this, and it is just not what you expected. And that scares you." He accused. Casey shoved him.

"I am not scared!" She hissed, but it wasn't convincing. She gave into his penetrating look and slumped her shoulders. "Okay, fine. I thought it would be amazing to dance on a stage in front of hundreds of people every night, but it's not the same when the choreography is the exact same, and I don't have the creative liberties I would If I did my own choreography." She admitted—Derek tutt at her before lazily throwing his arm across her shoulders.

"Well, you can always modify your dream to fit your life." He said and then eyed a street band performing under a massive tree filled with string lights. Casey gave him a confused look, and then her eyes widened at him when he dragged her towards the band, and he twirled her around. "Like dancing in the park without any stuffed shirts of catty girls criticizing you." He said before joining her in a faced paced swing dance. Casey's face lit up with the biggest and most beautiful smile. She laughed and tilted her head back when Derek picked her up and spun her.

A small crowd of dancers joined in, and the band picked up its pace, and Derek let Casey down so she could take the reigns. This was her, Casey free and alive.

The two left the park with a little more pep in their step and laughing. Derek dragged them to the closest bar and ordered them whiskey shots. Derek started to sweet talk to the bartender and didn't even get carded. They were legal in Canada, but at nineteen, were not yet legal in the states. It helped that Derek had a bit of a blonde stubble beard going on. Casey just shook her head in amazement.

"I am the one supposed to be showing you around the city. I am the one who lives here," Casey said before clinking her shot glass with Derek's and downing it in one go. Derek laughed at her grimace as the whiskey burned down her throat.

"It's called confidence Casey, maybe you'll know all about it after a few more of these." He said and waved at the bartender for another round. He handed Casey another cool shot glass, and she met his determined gaze with one of her own. He leaned close to her ear and said over the loud music.

"Oh, and you're paying, by the way." He said, and before she could yell at him, he downed his shot and pulled on her hand to the dance floor. Casey refrained from his pulling to shakily downed her whiskey shot. Derek released her to the thumping music while he made eye contact with a blonde in a tight purple dress. Casey felt her limbs become loose and cool and began to sway to the beat. The writhing bodies pressed against another was not the type of music she was usually used to, but there was something hypnotic about it. A pair of arms snaked around her waist, and Casey flinched to see a handsome stranger with mint green eyes that shone against dark skin. He leaned close to her ear.

"Want to dance?" He asked, and she nodded nervously. He led her in a slow sway, lightly pressing his hips into hers. Casey bit back a gasp and ran her arms up and through her own loose waves. This was heaven. She followed the handsome stranger step for step and rolled her hips in a way that made him hiss. His hands began to drift from her hips to the back pockets of her low-ride jeans. It was only when he squeezed her bottom that she squealed and jumped away. The handsome stranger raised his hands up in surrender. He mouthed "sorry" to her, and she shook her head and smiled at him before moving more towards the center and dancing by herself. At least she was until Derek came over with another two shots, and she gladly accepted, now getting more used to the burn.

"You okay?" Derek shouted over the music. Casey nodded.

"Better than ever." She said and wrapped her arms around his waist and pulled him into a more lively song. Derek put both their glasses on the nearby counter and began to sway along with Casey. This was much closer than they had ever danced before, and Casey was giggling and biting her bottom lip as she spun and gyrated onto Derek. Oh no, Derek thought. He had created a monster. He would have always thought Casey would be a lame weepy drunk, but it turns out she is a flirty drunk. Derek wasn't exactly sober either, and the night was still swinging along. He held for the ride with his hands firmly on Casey's hips. She spun and then wrapped her arms around his neck. She swayed back and forth with her eyes half-closed.

It's hard to say who moved; first, one moment, they were forehead to forehead, and then Casey whispering huskily, "Thank you for saving me, Derek" Derek chuckled and asked, "From what?". Casey's fingers ran through his smooth hair before leaning to his ear and whispering, "From myself" Maybe he was going to give her a reassuring kiss on the cheek. Maybe she only turned to put her head on his shoulder. Whatever their possible intentions, what happened was that their lips met for the briefest moment. They had enough sobriety to freeze and look into each other's eyes. Derek searched her baby blue eyes for any fear or concern but only found her doing the same, and a flicker of want glazed over her eyes. That was all each other needed for permission.

While the first kiss was sweet and innocent, this kiss was desperate and sensual. Derek pressed Casey closer and cupped the back of her head to deepen the kiss, and Casey let her hands trail down his chest to the hem of his shirt. In the course of their kissing, the song had changed to something slower; Casey and Derek took the opportunity to come up for air. Casey nuzzled into Derek's neck, and he held her close.

"What are we doing?" Casey asked and pulled back to look at Derek. She half expected a sarcastic remark like, What does it look like? We were making out, and now we're not. Not that big a deal, Case. But Casey had never seen Derek like this before. His face was open and vulnerable.

"I don't know," He said and shook his head. He smoothed some hair out of her face and smiled down at her. Casey smiled back and leaned up to kiss him lightly. She rubbed her hands over his arms.

"Well, whatever this is, let's wing it," Casey announced confidently. Derek laughed at that and shook her lightly.

"What?" Casey pouted. Derek shook his head and slung an arm over her shoulder, leading her out of the dance floor towards the bar to pay their tab.

"'Let's wing it,'" He imitated her in an absurdly high pitch tone. "You are still such a Keener," He said. She elbowed his side.

"Der-rek," She whined as he pat her head in a condescending way.

"It's okay; you're a cute kenner." He said with a wink. She forked up the cash for their tab and joined him out in the New York nightlife.

They stared out at the buildings from Casey's fire escape. Neither said anything for several minutes until Casey broke the silence.

"I have to drop out of the play," Casey announced, and Derek smoothed her hair in response. "Yeah, you got me thinking."

"Oh no," Derek said and snickered when she lightly slapped his knee. Casey was sitting between his legs and leaning back into his chest.

"I want to go back to school, but not for Law. I want to own my own dance studio." She said, and Derek put his chin on top of her head.

"So, Casey Macdonald found a way to make a career where she is in complete control. Shocker." He whispered the last part into her ear; she smiled and then turned around so she was facing him.

"Plus, going to university will give us time to figure out whatever this is." She said as she placed her hands on his shoulders. He smirked at her.

"Yeah, sure, let's 'wing it,'" He said, and Casey slid her hands up to his neck and kissed him until the sun began to rise, and they both finally succumbed to exhaustion.

[terrainofheartfelt]

Well obviously I’m gonna go with p & p au yeehaw

YEEHAW <333

I'm directing my writing attention to this fic now bc I've been talking about it for like six months now and I want people (you) to read it! So for the next couple weeks I want to write as much of it as I can and then hopefully start posting. I'm going chronologically in the story now, which isn't my usual modus operandi but I want to get far enough in to start posting, hopefully regularly, and I've found that when I post an ongoing wip the feedback keeps me motivated to keep writing. I think that's why I was able to wrap my latest multi-chap so quickly, was that feedback loop. Comments save lives, my loves. (And like, I've written the tail end and big hunks in the middle, so there's enough draft and outline that hopefully I can just dig in, go in order, and just...fill in the gaps)

okay THAT being said the last thing I wrote was the "a Turn about the room" scene and it was SO MUCH FUN. the sheer sexual tension of it! the comedy! So, for the audience at home, S suggested that chip wiskers would fit as the operational Caroline Bingley and she was RIGHT, and it's been very fun to reduce him to the 2-bit villian of the first half of s1. and it's been very fun to dunk on him.

and it's been very fun to modify the plot for a present-day au, with The LBD as a sort of guidepost. Like, part one of the new neighbor and the big houses and the leisure time occurs during summer in the Hamptons, and Mr. Bingley (Nate) ghosts it's pretty much the end of the summer. For the next couple days (because last night I took off writing to see Batman - worth it btw), I want to write the Netherfield Ball AKA The White Party, which will have a lot of juicy stuff, like, Lily trying to matchmake her daughter up the ladder of society, the ~Wickham~ character, the Serenate Big Damn Kiss (tm) of the Hamptons episode, and, of course, The Dance.

I have been a little nervous whenever I pick up writing this, because p & p is such a well-known and well-loved story, that I'll miss something, that I won't hit all of the iconic beats, but you know I am just gonna keep reminding myself...this story is In Me. I read the novel for the first time in junior high and I've internalized it ever since, so I just gotta not worry about that and just write the thing, ya know?

Also, I have my reference texts: a B & N Classics edition of the original, The Secret Diary of Lizzie Bennet, P & P 2005 pirated and saved on my devices, The LBD on YT, and, from a gift I got from my bestest friend in high school: Pride and Prejudice, the Manga.

[somenewsarah]

Dear Draco - Part 2

Word Count: 2k+

Warnings: Swearing, slight smut

Genre: Fluffy angst

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Reader

AN: Sorry this took so long to get finished! Been working- BUT! There’s a part 3 coming your way sooner than this took, I pinky swear!

Dear Draco,

I’m so sorry to hear about your wife, mate. Must be a lot of pressure. Is Scorpius okay? I’ll have mum call and check in with Astoria. I’m sure everything will be alright.

Well wishes,

Blaise Zambini

Draco folds the letter in half and tosses it on the table in front of him. He’s a mess. The table top is covered completely in glasses of firewhiskey and takeout. He hasn’t showered in what feels like years, but in actuality, it’s only been roughly three days. Three long, dark days. His mind titters between you and Scorpius. Mostly Scorpius. Another sip of firewhiskey. His head buzzes, his chest glowing from the inside as the whiskey warms him.

He stands, not being able to take it any longer. He grabs his coat, his resolve set as he stumbles out the front door, not even bothering to lock it. What was the point? There’s nothing to steal. Everything he loves is gone, cruelly ripped away from him over something he really has no control over. Well… almost everything.

Despite the summer not fully ending, the air holds a certain chill that rocks Draco to his core. The firewhiskey on his breath mingles with the cool night air, and he works hard to walk in a straight line. He stumbles over the rubble, cursing to himself.

Finally, after knocking into people for miles, keeping his head low, and stumbling around for what felt like hours, he reaches his destination. Only you would have a purple front door. He chuckles to himself, shaking his head. Oh, you. You… You. Your fault.

His anger is back before he knows it and he’s suddenly banging on your door.

“Y/N!” He slurs, dragging your name out as his mind moves slower than his mouth.

The door opens after a moment, and it was obvious he was disturbing you. Hair in a bun, pajamas on, swaddled in a blanket.

“Draco?” You ask, opening the door wider. “Are you- you’re drunk?”

“Yes,” he slurs, his chuckles turning menacing. “Yes, I am drunk, thank you for finally noticing me.”

You sigh, wrapping your arms tighter around your body.

“Come inside,” you offer, widening the door.

Draco looks at you, his face filled with disgust but his eyes holding so much love and adoration. He scoffs past you, pushing his way into your little home.

“This is all your fault,” he slurs again. “Your fault. Gone. Nothing! Just gone. Scorpius.”

“Draco,” you push. “Slow down. What happened to Scorpius?”

“Gone!” Draco shouts, beginning that world famous pace now. “Took him! Gone! You!”

You sigh and lean against the wall, knowing now isn’t the time for reasoning- not when he’s like this. You pinch the bridge of your nose, listening to his ‘took him, gone, you’ mantra over and over again, waiting him out.

“Darling, everything will be oka-“

“Oh, fuck you!” he shouts, finally breaking. He slides down the countertop, dragging his legs against his chest, his heart shattering at the look on your face. He can remember feeling like this one other time in his life- the night he learned he was to kill Dumbledore. And you looked at him that night just as you were looking at him now.

You move towards him slowly, sinking down to sit next to him as his shoulders start to shake. The tears that pour down his face are large and unwavering as he finally just lets go and cries. He rests his forehead on his knees as everything pours into him. You’re alive. His wife has left him. He doesn’t know where his son is. Why didn’t he just wait.

Draco lifts his head for a moment, his own breath caught in his throat as he leans back against the countertop. The cry of anguish that escapes his throat brings tears to your own eyes and you cannot take it anymore. The tears spill over as you grab his face in your hands and kiss him hard. You pour everything into your kiss- the years spent missing him, the tears cried thinking of him, how he must’ve felt, knowing in your heart he’d moved on. The love of your life sitting right in front of you, you can’t let him get away again.

But he pushes you away. Hard.

“How could you?” He demands through his tears. Suddenly on his feet, his teeth grit and though you know he’s on his way to sobering up, there’s still that distinctive slur to his words and the vastness of his pupils. “How fucking dare you! You made me believe you were gone. You made me believe it and then you just show up from the afterlife, ready to start over with me? How selfish are you? How could you do this to me? To us? I love you more than anything else in this world and right now I can’t even spare a glance for you. You ripped my family apart. I blame you! You took him away from me. You’re the reason she’s gone with Scorpius, you’re the reason I don’t have my boy!”

You’re on your feet now, right in his face as you take his words as a slap in the face. How dare he.

“I did everything I could to protect you!” you shout, your own volume matching his.

“I didn’t ask for your protection,” he snarls. “In fact, I didn’t ask for any of this!”

“No, you didn’t,” you shout back. “Would you rather have sat around and waited and worried if I were alive or not for 6 years?”

“Yes!” He erupts. “Yes, I would have! At least I would’ve known you were alive!”

“You don’t know how many times I almost wasn’t,” you admit, your words stringing together faster than you would’ve liked. Your breathing is heavy, matching his as your shouting match continues. “You don’t know how many times I almost made sure I wasn’t! You’re an arse, Draco Malfoy, to blame me for your problems!”

“You are my problem!” He shouts, his face inches from yours. “You and all of my fucking love for you!”

“Yeah, well,” you shout, finally stumbling. He will not win this argument. “Well… Maybe I love you, too!”

“Yeah?” He shouts, nodding his head.

“Yeah,” you say, your resolve settling in. “You think I came back to teach at Hogwarts? If you really think that then you’re a right foul git, just as everyone says! And furthermore, I-“

And suddenly, his lips are shutting you up in full force against yours. You wrap your arms around his neck, allowing him to take full control of the kiss. Your mouth opens, inviting his tongue in as he pushes you against the counter. Draco’s fingers tug at your hair and you groan against his lips. His hands trail down your waist, grabbing your hips and lifting you onto the countertop.

“You drive me mad,” he growls against your lips, his hands tugging at your hair once again. “Absolutely fucking mad.”

“Draco,” you groan. Your head falls back as his lips nip at your neck, sucking softly. “I want you so bad.”

“Y/N,” he moans, his hands roaming.

“Y/N,” he says, this time more forcefully.

You scrunch your eyebrows, looking down at him from the countertop.

“Y/N!” Followed by a banging on your door.

You open your eyes, taking note of your bedroom around you. It was just a dream. A cruel, sick, unusual form of punishment dream. More banging.

“Coming,” you groan.

You flip the covers off of you and move through your kitchen and living room, keeping your duvet wrapped tightly around you as you pull the front door open.

“About time,” Draco utters, pushing past you and into your home.

“Uh, come in,” you say, rubbing your eyes, trying to rub the dream from your mind. “I’ll start some tea.”

“I came for a reason,” Draco says, wringing his fingers together. “I needed to talk to somebody.”

“Oh,” you nod. “Alright.”

You flit about the kitchen, filling the kettle with water and turning it on to boil, your cheeks redder than necessary.

Draco watches you from across the kitchen, his eyes following you as if you’d disappear again if he didn’t. His heart thuds but he plays it cool, crossing his arms over his chest as the silence stretches between you two.

 “Astoria left,” he finally says. Your eyes snap to his quickly, and you can see the pain in his eyes.

 “She did?” You ask, watching him.

 “Yeah,” he nods. “I told her everything. She pushed me to have another baby with her, but I told her I didn’t want another one.”

 “I’m guessing she didn’t take that well?” You ask, your voice lilted.

 “Nope,” he says, his eyes moving to the floor. “So she left… And she took Scorpius with her.”

 “No,” you gasp. “Do you know where they went?”

 “No,” he says, shaking his head. The kettle whistles and you move quickly, dunking teabags into two mugs and pouring the hot water on top. You gesture to the couch and he sits quickly, almost uncomfortably, as you hand him his tea. “Thanks.”

 You nod and sit at the opposite end of the couch, tucking your feet under your legs, relishing in the warmth of the mug between your cold fingers.

 “She can’t just take him,” you say, your voice coming out more stern than you anticipated. “You’re his father. This just isn’t right, Draco.”

 “I know,” he nods, taking a sip of his tea. His face is haunted as he stares absently into his cup, his eyebrows scrunch together. More than anything did you hate seeing him like this. So sad, so lost.

 “Well… let’s go get him back,” you say, tilting your head.

 “How?” He asks, his shoulders sinking further. “I don’t even know where they are.”

 “I know some people,” you suggest, shrugging lightly. “I traveled through villages near here and met a lot of really great witches and wizards. Maybe I could call in some favors?”

 “It’s alright,” Draco sighs. “Astoria’s too smart to go somewhere remote. She’s close… I know she is.”

 You scoot towards him and take his mug, placing both on the little coffee table. You grab Draco’s hands in your own, forcing him to look you in the eye.

 “She’ll come back,” you say, sounding more confident about it than you actually felt. “Scorpius is safe. That’s what’s important. We’ll find them, I promise.”

 “You’ll help me?” He asks, and his voice reminds you of the broken boy from sixth year. “Really?”

 “Of course I will, Dray,” you sigh.

 “Why would you do that?”

 You sigh again, leaning back against the plush cushions as you wrap your blanket tighter around you.

 “Because I love you, Draco,” you admit, not meeting his gaze. “I always will.”

 Draco’s eyes water, but he blinks his tears away the way he always does. He nods once, swallowing hard as he finally looks at you.

 “I thought I’d never hear you say that again.”

 “I didn’t intend to say it again,” you say quietly.

 Draco scoots even closer to you and grabs your hands again. He’s gentle as his thumb rubs the back of your hand, moving to rub your palm and up your arms until he’s cradling your face and finally, finally kissing you. His kisses are soft and gentle- not at all as they were in your dream- and you relish in the warmth of his lips.

 “What do we do?” You ask against his lips, your eyes remaining closed as you savor the moment with him.

 Draco pulls away slowly. “I need to get my son back. If that means going with Astoria’s wishes until I can figure something out, then so be it.”

 Your face is cool as he removes his hands and stands, moving towards your front door.

 “I’m sorry,” you say, though for what you aren’t sure.

 “Don’t be,” he says. He turns towards you, and the lilt of a smile is etched into his features. “I love you.”

 Astoria,

 I might be in the wrong for a lot of things, but I’ve never been wrong about Scorpius. How dare you take him from me. You may think you hold the power, but you don’t. I’ll get Scorpius back, don’t you worry. Remember- I know too much.

 Your loving husband,

Draco Malfoy

Taglist

@itsbebeyyy​, @cheapglitter​, @snazzyjazzyjayy​, @reisabrisingr​, @steverogers123, @acciowilltolive​, @drabblingdraco​, @nekee-lilac02​, @helch0u​, @urmommagay3​, @shiningstar-byulxx​, @esolari72, @beiahadid​

[thehaemanthus]

Our Savaged Souls

Trying out a new thing of posting the full chapter on tumblr. You can read from chapter one one AO3 (unless it’s not your thing, and in that case you can send me an ask and I’ll be like! sure! I love to be accomodating! I’ll post full chapters on tumblr :) )

Feyre Archeron is born under the new Wall separating human lands from the Spring Court- her home. She hunts in her forest, forms a friendship with the High Lord's third son, and is introduced to his friend. Then it all goes wrong.

Chapter 6

Tamlin soon forgets his ire about the Suriel. Or at least, he pushes it down far enough and eventually bounces back, dragging her out on more adventures. He manages to swing by for a few hours of her birthday party, and then is required at home for much of the spring. By the time the summer rolls around, Feyre can tell he’s eager to be away from family and make up for lost time.

The latest outing is a jaunt to a pool of liquid starlight, one that Feyre has visited only a handful of times. It’s one of Tamlin’s favorite places, she knows, and she felt the honor in the first invitation.

Her linen dress brushes just past her knees, only half of her hair pulled back in anticipation of a relaxing afternoon spent lounging in the shade and wading in the water. No boots or tight braid needed today. Her contribution to the picnic is a batch of scones, some ruby-red cherries, raspberry preserves, and roasted almonds. With her bounty and dress, Feyre decides to winnow rather than pick through the forest.

Feyre expects it to be a small party, but she does not know how small it actually is until she arrives.

There are two people there. Tamlin and Rhysand.

Of course. Rhysand. Of course he is here.

“You managed to make it on time!” Tamlin greets her with an enthusiastic kiss on the cheek and takes her basket from her hands, retreating to add it to their pile of food and blankets. The space already looks inviting, dappled in shade. Sweating bottles of lemonade and ice water peak out from a wicker basket full of white porcelain plates with painted primrose borders and crystal glasses. A partially wrapped loaf of bread and hard cheese rests on top, along with a sharp knife and a bounty of fresh fruits.

Feyre scowls. “I was late one time, Tam, it’s not funny anymore.” She glances at Rhysand. It would be impossible to pretend he’s not there. It’s just the three of them. It would be rude to not say anything. It should not be difficult at all to just greet him. She wrangles her expression into something pleasant. “Hello, Rhysand.”

“Feyre darling,” he smirks. “I thought you were calling me Rhys now?”

She actually turns a bit red and fumbles. Thankfully, Tamlin’s big mouth saves her. “When did that happen?”

“A while ago.” Rhysand reclines on one of the picnic blankets, lounging like a cat. He waves a hand. “Won’t you join us, Feyre?”

There’s really no way to refuse. She takes a seat, folding her legs under her. “It’s hard to break a habit. I’ve been calling you Rhysand for a long time now.”

“I’ll have to keep reminding you, then,” he says as he roots through a picnic basket, plucking out a tin of cookies. “Want one?”

“Thank you, Rhys,” she stresses his name, plucking one of the cookies from his hand.

He smiles at her, and the tension seems to melt away.

Has she always looked at him like this, or did the Suriel trigger something in her soul that flipped the world upside down? Feyre wonders how long this feeling, this awareness of him has been growing in her heart, encroaching so slowly and naturally that she has not noticed until someone drew her attention to the blossoming.

For a child of the Night Court, Rhys looks good in the sun. She has always known he is beautiful, but something has changed. As they chat and nibble on the picnic, Feyre observes him. There is something fuller in his laughs, more playful in his smirks today. It would be impossible to forget that he is an Heir— powerful radiates from his body and he approaches every conversation and confrontation with arrogance. He is still guarded. But if his true soul is an impenetrable fortress, Feyre thinks they’ve passed through the gates of one or two battlements.

The sun beats down on them, stronger now that the world has moved and positioned itself in summer. The Day Court is absolutely sweltering, Rhys informs them, and there’s been some problems with heat sickness in Summer. In Spring, Feyre keeps an extra canteen of water and takes frequent breaks when romping about.

Sweat gathers at her brow and pools on her upper lip. Eventually, sipping cool drinks and relaxing in the shade is paltry comfort.

“I’m going for a dip,” she stands. “Anyone want to join?”

The males scramble up after her. It’s some work to unlace her stays, so they end up shucking their clothes and splashing into the pond before her. Feyre finds herself sighing in relief when they don’t look twice or offer to help. It would be well meaning from them, her friends, if not a little playful and flirty. But if Rhys offered…

Mother above. Surely it should take her longer to fall?

“Are you coming?” Tamlin calls from the water, flicking some water in her direction. It glitters like diamonds where it lands on the grass and dirt. It might not actually be water, but Feyre has never known what else to call it.

She scowls. “It takes a little longer for me.” She toes off her slippers, wiggling her feet in the cool grass. In the past, Feyre hasn’t had trouble with stripping down to almost nothing and jumping into lakes and rivers. Now, she keeps her chemise on and tries not to think too hard about it. After tossing her hair pins on the blanket, she wades in.

The pond is cool and refreshing. Sunlight almost blinds her as it bounces off the surface. Feyre glides through the water, slowly acclimating herself. When she dunks her head under and emerges, the liquid starlight clings to her lashes and makes the world look brighter and chaotic. She swipes a hand at her eyes and blinks to clear her vision.

Tamlin floats on his back, golden hair floating around his head like a halo. Rhys lazily swims a circuit around the pond, much like she was. Feyre treads in place for a moment before floating a bit closer to Rhys.

Sensing her presence, he surfaces. Feyre’s breath catches. She’s sure he reads something incriminating on her face, but before he can speak she opens her mouth. “This pond suits you.”

“Oh?” he questions. His feet must reach the bottom, because while Feyre is working to stay afloat at the edge, he is merely holding out his arms to keep himself steady.

“The starlight.” Her eyes roam over his face and dip down to his neck before shooting back up. If she looks too far down she won’t be able to return her gaze to his face. “Son of the Night Court. It all works.” She waves a hand in his face, and he laughs. The starlight clinging to his hair and shoulders and dripping from his chin bring out the constellations in his eyes.

“You don’t look too bad yourself, darling,” Rhys nods at her.

She wishes she had a mirror, if only to try and memorize her own look for a painting later. “Do I?” she asks, leaning back a bit in the water and pretending like his words do not send her heart racing.

Her eyes are on the sky, but when Rhys is silent for too long she propels herself upright. He’s frowning a bit, looking more unsure of himself than she’s ever known him to be. “Rhys?”

“I can show you,” he says, expression much too serious for an afternoon swim.

Feyre laughs softly. “You have a mirror? Where are you hiding that?”

Rhys’s smirk lacks some of its swagger. He brings up a hand and, from nowhere, conjures a hand mirror. “I do have some tricks up my sleeve. But that wasn’t what I was talking about.” As quick as it appeared, it's gone.

Feyre cocks her head. Rhys wants to show her what she looks like, but without a mirror or any reflective surface...and it’s not like he’s an artist…

She gapes a little, swimming closer. Tamlin is still floating on his back, hearing muffled from the water, but she lowers her voice anyway. “You’re daemati?”

It’s the only thing that makes sense. And she would expect no less from Rhys. In addition to being obscenely powerful, to have this as well...he won’t just be a powerful High Lord, he’ll be unquestionably dominant.

His brows lift a little in surprise before his expression settles. “Clever girl. I shouldn’t be surprised that you guessed.”

Feyre bites her lip, torn between being pleased and being concerned. She does not think that Rhys has ever used his power against her. But how would she know? She has heard plenty of stories, has been given plenty of reasons to be wary of the Night Court. Feyre is not so arrogant as to think that she is a worthy target, but just the thought of her thoughts being combed through or someone getting information from her mind is disconcerting.

Rhys— whether by looking at her mind or her face— knows where her thoughts lead her. He moves a little closer as well. “I have never looked in your mind, or Tamlin’s for that matter. I’m not that kind of male.”

“I know.” The words are said without thinking, but they ring true.

He does not look convinced. “If I wanted to use you, I would have hovered in your mind as you hunted the Suriel and asked them a question myself. I would have probed your mind to see what you asked.”

She nods. Part of her knows it to be true, but another part, an animal, instinctual part, shies away from him.

But the Suriel told her to trust Rhysand.

It’s not effortless, but she stays. “You keep it a secret?”

“We keep it quiet,” Rhys admits. “We” probably means his family, his Court.

What does it mean that there is a secret daemati ready to inherit one of the mightier Courts of Prythian?

If she was a good person, she thinks, she would tell someone. But being a good citizen and a good friend are directly opposed at the moment. It does not take Feyre very long to decide which title is more important to her.

“I won’t tell anyone.” She values her friendship with Rhys, trusts him more than she maybe should. Even considering what the Suriel said, she would be a fool to throw herself into his arms blindly.

“Thank you.” Under the water, he reaches out to squeeze her hand. “I know you still aren’t comfortable with this.”

It’s difficult to meet his eyes, so she looks down. Right at the curves of his shoulder, where brown skin and black ink peek from beneath the surface. Her mouth goes dry, but she manages to force words out. “It is...strange. To realize how vulnerable I’ve been.”

There are dangers in Feyre’s life, but she has always known them. She has rules, has trained and armed herself against threats. Don’t stay out too late after night falls in the forest, don’t stray too close to creatures who have young ones to protect. Keep your eyes averted when speaking with the High Lord and try to not attract too much attention, bite your tongue in front of certain people and laugh and gossip in secret circles only.

There is no such defense against Rhys. At least, she assumes so until he speaks. “I can train you to shield your mind.”

Feyre blinks, shocked. “You can?” It’s possible? And he would offer that to her?

A deluge of cool water drenches her. Feyre cries out in shock, whirling to scowl at a laughing Tamlin.

“You two are much too serious,” he says, slapping the surface of the water again to send another splash their way. “What were you talking about anyway?”

“We had a run-in with a daemati in the Night Court a while back,” Rhys says smoothly. In an instant, his cool confidence is back. He swims away from Feyre, closer to Tamlin. She is sure there is a good reason he turns his back and tells herself it does not sting. “I was telling Feyre that I wouldn’t mind offering some lessons on how to shield her mind.”

“Why would you need to shield your mind?” Tamlin asks her.

She scowls. “Why wouldn’t I? Don’t you want to keep your thoughts private?”

“Sure,” Tamlin shrugs. “But it’s not like any daemati would target you.” He is lackadaisical and inattentive, paddling around the pond like a slippery otter. The mere word “daemati” was enough to alter Feyre’s mood, but Tamlin is barely affected.

“She’s been spending time with two sons of High Lords,” Rhys points out, flicking some water into Tamlin’s face. “I’d say that makes her plenty vulnerable. You should learn to shield, too.”

Tamlin nods, finally starting to take it seriously. “You were taught?” He propels himself upright, staring intently at Rhys. It is not hard to see how Tamlin esteems their older friend. Anyone who spends five minutes with the two of them can see how Tamlin might look at Rhys for approval, how he weighs Rhys’s words and commits them to memory. Sometimes, Feyre worries about how reliant Tamlin is, how he has replaced his own older brothers with the Heir to the Night Court. But she hardly has room to talk.

“Almost as soon as I could grasp the concept,” Rhys says. “I’ll give both of you lessons. It’ll be hard to test without an actual daemati, but it’s worth trying.”

You’ll have a bit of an advantage over Tamlin. Feyre gasps as Rhys’s voice echoes in her head. Her limbs freeze. She sinks a little in the water before propelling herself back up, sputtering.

Tamlin glides closer. “Feyre?”

“I’m fine,” she assures him, pointedly not looking at Rhys. “I thought something brushed my leg. What lives in this water anyway?”

“Nothing natural,” Tamlin scowls at the opaque surface as if his ire can be translated to whatever dwells below. “Come on, let’s leave before we find out.”

Feyre wades out of the pond, chemise sticking to her skin and hair dripping down her back. She squeezes her hair to dry it as best she can, then moves to gather a fistful of her chemise and wring out the water.

It’s silent for a moment. When Feyre looks up, she sees two males looking at her instead of getting out of the pond.

Emboldened by their attention, Feyre raises an eyebrow. “Yes?”

Tamlin coughs, looking away and stepping out of the water. He passes her without a comment, even as Rhys continues to look. Her challenge is answered as his eyes rove over her body, from long bare legs to the wet material clinging to her hips and chest. She half expects something flirty to spill from his mouth, but he just keeps the smirk on, looks his fill, and emerges from the water.

It takes a lot of effort not to pay him back in kind, though Feyre does sneak a look at those tattoos and well-muscled chest.

The light breeze chills their damp skin, and the once sweltering heat becomes a comforting embrace. The trio sprawl out. Between bouts of dozing off, they have a contest to see which pair is best at tossing grapes into someone’s mouth. When Feyre’s hair is mostly dry and her fingers get caught in tangles, Rhys slips behind her and braids it back.

She is half awake as his fingers comb through her hair, catching every other word of his explanation that his little sister has now grown old enough to demand all sorts of hairstyles and pampering from her devoted older brother. Feyre hums with a smile, picturing the scene.

There’s a knock on the edge of her mind. One she is better prepared for this time. Rhys slips a memory into her mind, one that is not hers, but his. Through his eyes he sees a head of black hair, a young girl’s bedroom, a reflection of him and a little girl, the former wrestling with a hair brush and the latter rifling through a basket of ribbons. There is a love infused in that memory, a feeling so pure that it nearly brings a tear to Feyre’s eye.

I almost neglected my promise earlier. Rhys’s voice is low and smoky in her mind. A moment later, a different memory. Her grinning face, covered in droplets of starlight.

There is emotion in this memory too, though not the all-consuming devotion Rhys feels for his sister. But it is something, and it makes Feyre smile anyway.

It is the perfect day. Feyre is not naive enough to think that this dynamic, with her two dear friends, can last forever. Rhysand will one day become High Lord, and Tamlin’s own role will likely change when his father passes. But fae are immortal, and she is untouched by death, and the thought of painful change is so far away in that perfect summer afternoon.

She cannot be blamed for thinking peace will last for a good, long while.

--

Being the Lady of the Spring Court is good for little else besides ordering the servants around the house.

Alis can grumble and protest and toss every veiled hint that she can think of, but in the end she cannot prevent Feyre from leaving her bed. Sleep came and went in the night. When the discomfort impeded her peace, Feyre tossed back healing tonics and pain remedies and whatever cocktail of drugs that the healer left on her nightstand.

Her smaller cuts are healed, but her ribs are still tender. The worst bruises are black and blue and impossible to look at. Feyre chooses a boring corner of the room to stare at as Alis dresses her in light fabrics and a dress that laces loosely. Alis picks a gown in an opaque green with a yellow underskirt, as if that will lend color to her pale skin or brighten her gaunt face.

Feyre tells the staff that she and the High Lord will not be entertaining any guests and to send away anyone that might drop by. Not that anyone comes for Feyre unless she specifically invites them.

The only other person in her home besides the servants is Lucien. He clearly did not expect her to leave bed and nearly leaps from his seat when she slips into the dining room. “You should be resting.”

She probably should. There is an exhaustion that has settled in her, infused in her bones and powdered on her skin. Her tongue is weighed down. Feyre has no words for her friend, only enough energy to squeeze his shoulder as she walks past to take her seat. She sees the way his eyes scan her, the way his jaw clenches when he notes how she sits gingerly.

Tamlin’s chair at the head of the table is empty. The space feels like a chasm.

When Tamlin is home, the table usually is weighed down with food. Today, Lucien just has one plate sent up from the kitchen. Feyre gets the same toast, fried eggs, and sausage. No platters of sliced fruit or tureens of gravy or plates of sugary pastries. Lucien pours her a cup of tea wordlessly.

Feyre eats in peace, but Lucien has a stack of papers by him that he leafs through in between bites. With Tamlin gone, his work will be all the more difficult. Lucien cannot make certain decisions, cannot sign off on projects, cannot approve a budget. But there are some things that must get done and emergencies to deal with.

“Anything I can help with?” Feyre speaks her first words of the day.

Lucien’s eyes flick up briefly. “I’ll let you know.” He’s gone a few minutes later, only a squeeze of her shoulder as a goodbye.

There are things Feyre can do, even some things that Tamlin might expect her to accomplish. Ferye thinks of the piles of letters she can respond to and the parties she might plan. The next holiday is never more than a few months away, and Tamlin likes to take any opportunity to celebrate and fill their home with his friends.

She does not do any of that.

The servants push back on some of Feyre’s whims, but they can never outright refuse her. A few months ago, it was a battle to get them to relinquish their gardening tools. Another battle to ask one of the gardeners to teach her, show her, and not do anything beyond that.

But a few months ago she was also a bit more fragile, and so they followed her directions with less protesting than she usually was in for.

Now, Feyre knows where to find the tools she needs. She slips on the gardening gloves that Alis procured and forced on her. While it might be seemly for the Lady of Spring to prune a few roses, cuts and calluses were utterly unacceptable. Feyre can stroll in the gardens, can even kneel in the grass, as long as she has a wide-brimmed hat to shield the delicate skin on her face.

How she longs to rip off the hat, unpin her hair, and sprint through the fields once more.

No one disturbs her as Feyre weaves through the perfectly manicured gardens. She passes tall hedges, venturing deeper until she crosses into a little hidden nook. It is cordoned off by nothing more than a charming wooden gate, but symbolism is strong. No one has ever entered without the express permission of the Lady of Spring.

Feyre let the little space go unattended for years, not caring much for gardening or pretty flowers. Now, the hidden nook is ringed with blooming jasmine. She might add a stone bench in the middle, but for now she is happy to sit on the grass.

A proper gardener might prune and use sophisticated techniques to care for the jasmine, but Feyre likes to see it grow wild. She removes weeds and brushes away dead leaves. In Spring the bushes are almost always flowering, clogging the space with their intoxicating scent. She would have kept blooms in her room, if not for what they symbolized.

Jasmine is a Night Court flower.

Tamlin does not come to her jasmine garden. He either does not know or was informed and has not confronted her directly. Now that she is in the garden, Feyre wonders if this is, in part, what set him off.

The flowers are not for Rhys. Not really. True, they remind her of him, in a way. But she mostly likes the scent, likes that when she smells it she immediately feels at peace. Jasmine is not the most beautiful flower in the world, but it is still pretty. A flower alone cannot make her happy, but it settles something in her soul anyway.

White jasmine is crisp and clean. Pure.

For a while, Feyre had no closure after the loss of her child. These things happened, so the healer ensured she was physically healthy and then sent away. There was no goodbye, no body, no ceremony to send the child off. They were there one moment and gone the next, not having made any mark on the world besides a scar on Feyre’s heart. She does not know if they were male or female, if they had Tamlin’s blond hair or her own darker shade, if they would have had freckles or their father’s straight nose. After they were gone, the child seemed to exist for Feyre and no one else.

So she planted the jasmine.

Now, as she lays on her back in the grass, she can imagine it. A giggling toddler, running circles around her. But not here, not in Spring. The flowers perfume the air and make it all too easy to pretend she’s in another place.

Maybe the jasmine is selfish. Maybe Feyre did have another motive in creating this secret space.

While she is here, she can mourn her child. While she is here, she can pretend that she is someplace else.

[juliafied]

How about FenHawke and ♖: Having their hair washed by your muse!

Thank you for the prompt! I feel like I dedicate far too much time to setup of a particular scenario I imagine in my head, so this is quite a bit longer than first expected, but I think it’s such a sweet scene.

@dadrunkwriting | Read it on AO3

--

It had been raining all night.

Hawke listened to the tapping on the windowpane of her bedroom as she went through her correspondence, trying to knock out one more letter to the seneschal before her candle burnt out. Cursing him for requiring a response to an ‘urgent matter’ on such short notice, she signed her name most annoyedly, despite the “cordially” that preceded it. Folding the letter into thirds, placing it into an envelope, and sealing the parchment with a portion of wax, she sighed and blew out the long-suffering candle.

After pondering her empty mug for a few moments, Hawke descended the stairs to pour herself one last cup of herbal tea. At first, she thought she imagined it – a few tentative taps on her door. It was probably the wind driving some heavier rain under the awning.

Then, as she boiled some water, she heard it again, a little bit more insistent this time.

Her brows pinched in worry. It was unlikely that an intruder would announce themselves in this way; more probably was that one of her friends was in trouble. Her thoughts immediately turned to Anders and a late-night emergency at the clinic. She abandoned her task and rushed towards the door, snatching a decorative sword off the wall just in case, and unbolted, unlocked, and opened the heavy front door to the Amell estate just a crack.

Under her awning, sopping wet and looking miserable, was Fenris.

He brightened visibly when she opened the door fully, the sight of his quick smile filling her stomach with warmth.

“Hawke. I apologize, is it a bad time. I just meant to…”

It had been a few weeks since he had said those words that had changed everything. If there is a future to be had, I would walk into it gladly, by your side. She got goosebumps at the thought of it. Since then, they had settled into something similar to their previous companionship, but easier, freer – walks home from the Hanged Man could now include the thrill of hands touching, laughs could be followed by kisses… Felissa felt the kind of bliss that she hadn’t even been able to imagine.

She realized that she was staring and hadn’t said anything yet.

“Flames, please, come in, you’re shivering.” She hurriedly propped open the door with her foot and lightly laid a hand on his shoulder as he went inside. He really was shivering, his linen shirt soaked through and cold despite the earlier summer heat.

“Thank you,” he murmured as she shut the door behind him. “A contingency plan?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow, nodding towards the sword that looked comically large in her hands, used to holding smaller stilettos and daggers.

She sheepishly hoisted it back onto its place on the wall. “I don’t get many friendly late-night visitors. Usually it’s someone who’s very, very angry with me.”

He laughed. “Fair enough.”

As glad as she was to see him, his presence this late at night and braving such unpleasant weather was worrying. “So… is everything alright?” Seeing his sheepish expression, she quickly continued, “Not that I’m unhappy to see you. The contrary, actually.” Her earlier assessment of his decidedly not-dry state also prompted her to add, “Do you want a towel, or something?”

“I… yes, that would be much appreciated.” He followed her upstairs to her bedroom, dripping water on the ugly rug that she hated but had been a ‘family heirloom, Felissa Anais Hawke!’ Good, I hope it gets ruined, she thought, glancing fondly back at him.

He deftly caught the fluffy towel that she tossed from the depths of the linen closet, and gratefully wrapped it around his shoulders. She instructed him to sit in the armchair by the hearth in her room as she dashed downstairs, remembering the boiling water and tea she had ready. She pushed the mug into his hands wordlessly and sat down across from him in the other chair, cupping her chin in her hands.

Fenris sighed and took a sip, looking mildly embarrassed. “I had a nightmare. The worst in awhile – I thought you might be awake. If I have overstepped…” he trailed off, avoiding her gaze.

“Not at all. You know you can come here anytime, love.” There it was, the comfort she had longed to easily give. He smiled warmly at that. She knew it was difficult for him to entrust anyone with his hurt. She was touched that he had come to her. If only she could have been there for him a thousand times before, too.

“I am glad of your kindness, Hawke,” he murmured. She noticed that despite the tea, the fire in the hearth, and the thick towel, he was still trembling.

She had an idea. “Wait here,” she said suddenly, and skipped over to retrieve a few large pails from beside the tub in her room. “I know just the thing to warm you up. Sandal put these runes in my bathtub that heat the water quickly and keep it warm forever. Would you like to try it?”

“I wouldn’t want to impose,” he started, but Felissa shushed him with a soft press of her lips to his forehead.

“It’s not an imposition if I’m offering. No pressure, though.”

He smiled and nodded.

Within a few minutes, Fenris had finished the tea, and Felissa had fetched enough water to fill the tub. She activated the runes embedded into the tub the way that Sandal had shown her. She also tossed a sprig of lavender in and some salts for good measure. In no time at all, soft plumes of steam were coming off the top of the water.

“There you go,” she said, taking the mug from his hands. “Do you want me to leave so you can undress, or…?”

He gave the low chuckle that she loved so much. “A bit too late for that, I think.”

Fenris shook off the towel and peeled off the shirt, then his trousers, then, finally, his smalls. She felt it wouldn’t be the best time to stare, so she busied herself with hanging his wet clothes by the fire. She felt a rush of gladness at the sigh of satisfaction she heard as he slipped into the water. It was then that she dared glance over. Water up to his ears, Fenris’ eyes were closed, and the shivering was gone.

“Thank you, Hawke. This is truly… exquisite,” he murmured with another sigh.

“I’m glad you like it,” she said quietly, smiling at his relaxed demeanour.

“Do you bathe like this all the time? I can’t be bothered to heat my own water most of the time.”

“Yes,” she replied, adding cheekily, “Maybe you should join me sometime.”

Another low laugh. “I should like that.”

She picked up the stool in the corner of her room and brought it over to sit by the tub. “Was it the same dream?”

Fenris nodded, eyes still closed. “I think I’ve shaped my dreams so long with Danarius in mind that they do not easily forget, now that he is dead.”

Hawke sighed. Her mother’s living form still appeared in her dreams too, despite the years that had gone by.

They sat like this for awhile, enjoying each others’ company. Fenris smiled and opened his eyes eventually.

“It is truly remarkable. You said Sandal made these runes?”

“Yes. I’m truly spoiled by my household, I know.”

“For good reason, I think.”

Then, she had what she thought was her second good idea of the night.

“Fenris – I have this nice soap, I think it’s from Orlais. Do you – would you like me to wash your hair?”

Suddenly, he looked conflicted. A frown passed across his face, along with a pinch of his brow.

She quickly added, “I just thought it might feel nice for you. I always liked when Bethany or Mother would wash my hair. I’d stop anytime, if you asked,” she said earnestly.

He looked hesitant for a moment longer, then nodded decisively.

She beamed. “If you so much as flinch, I’ll stop, I promise.”

After fetching the soap, she dipped the floral-scented bar in the water and formed a lather in her hands. Once it was thick enough, she very slowly began working it into Fenris’ hair, no longer cold due to the steam rising off the surface of the bath. The lather blended with his white locks, making it difficult to tell where she had cleaned already and where she had not, but she made do by feel.

“Is this okay?” she asked, ever so often. He nodded every time.

Once the lather was thick enough, she gently started massaging his scalp, working from the top of his head, down through the crown and the back, and then returning to the temples. With a soft touch, remembering how Bethany had done it for her, she pressed lightly, tracing circles with her fingers. She was relieved when Fenris relaxed into her touch, even sighing contentedly when she massaged his temples.

Adding a little bit of soap for a final lathering of his silky strands, she retrieved one of the pails she had used to carry water.

“I used to hate this part as a child,” she murmured with a smile. “Mother said I would scream the entire time anyone dunked water on my head. I remember this, but I don’t even know why.”

He chuckled. “Perhaps the water was too cold.”

She made a face. “Probably. No one sold runes like this in the Lothering marketplace.” She filled the bucket with the water in the bath. “Either way, let me know if you don’t like this, and I’ll get you to wash out the soap yourself.”

Fenris nodded, and murmured, “Go ahead.”

Slowly, she poured the water on his head, taking care not to get the soap into his eyes or too much water into his ears. Rinsing out the soap with her hands, she emptied the pail, and refilled it again. “Was that alright?” she asked quietly, and Fenris gave a slow nod.

She repeated the process until his hair was free of soap, taking as much care as the first time. Emptying the pail after the final time, she set it on the floor next to the tub. Fenris smiled amusedly.

“Fortunately, I did not feel the urge to scream incessantly.”

She laughed. “I’m glad. I’m not sure my neighbours would appreciate that.”

He twisted suddenly in the water, a hand emerging to grasp her own. He gently pressed her fingers to his lips. “Thank you,” he said, sincerely.

She simply smiled.

“Did you enjoy your bath?”

“Yes. I had forgotten,” and now he paused, considering his words, “or perhaps I have never known, what it feels like to be taken care of.”

At that, she wished to take him into her arms, but of course, that would get her all wet. She settled on pressing a kiss to his wet, now gardenia-scented, hair.

“Oh, Fenris. I would take care of you ‘til the end of my days.”

[futurewriter2000]

Close Friends - pt. 11

A/N: It’s not over yet but like.... how did I do?

XX

June. 

June finally came, it was rough in the beginning with the final few exams but enjoyable towards the end. 

For you, all those months on focusing on the exams was a bliss becasue if you were stressed enough for pieces of papers deciding your future, you weren’t thinking about the four boys you used to call friends. 

They’ve been great contemplating months of long nights of crying and sobbing. You saw them everywhere. You saw them in the Great Hall, classess, corridors, Hogsmeade, everywhere really and it was hard at first but there was something about them- something that changed. Whether they got closer since your last encounter with them or they’ve matured. 

You haven’t been talking to neither of them. There were some nodds and smiles whenever some of you passed, Sirius more guilty, always looking away but you managed to actually forgive him. 

You couldn’t understand how you could. Usually, you would have hold on to a grudge and never forgive him for hitting you. Some days, you could see him staring in class and it was as if he was screaming appologies at you with his eyes. 

Knowing Sirius for years, he wouldn’t do what he did if he wasn’t truly hurt. He was in love with you and you knew that. He was in love with you and you basically told him you were in love with his best friends. That they were perfect for you. Not him, who had tried months to speak those words- those three words that seemed so heavy on his heart and who would genuenly love you with everything he has got. You knew Sirius. You knew how intensly he could feel his emotions, whether that was love or hurt. If he loved you, he loved you with every single atom in his body and if he hurt- he definetly hurt until he fell into the depths of darkness. 

You knew him so well, so goddamn well that you felt his emotions through all those days. Whenever he was happy and you didn’t see it, you felt happy. Whenever he was in his deepest of refrets, you cried those nights. Whenever he looked at you, you could feel the guilt he felt. It was as if the two of you were connected in such a deep level it felt impossible to think that maybe, just maybe he was right. You two-

“You coming?!” your roomate ran across the room with her bathing suit on, smiling and tying her hair.

She interrupted your train of thoughts but you smiled anyway. Today was a nice sunny day at the lake. Everybody will be there. You put on your dress and your flip flops, grabbed the towel and glasses and shouted back. “It’s you who we’re waiting, Fran.” 

She popped her head out of the warderobe and smiled. “I just don’t have anything to wear!”

“You’ll be in your swimsuit anyway- just throw something on and lets go!” you rushed her and she quickly put her shorts and T-shirt over. 

“Yeah, you’re right. I really don’t give a damn of how I look.” she laughed, grabbed her bag and started running after you.

---

It was rare to be hot in Britian but when it was, you wanted to enjoy the heat and the sun burning your skin. 

It was such a nice summer day. There was music coming from the stereos and students talking, laughing, some of them even playing volleyball and you? You were sun tanning. At times you pulled yourself up on your elbows and looked around, specifically on the group of boys at the other side of the lake. 

All shirtless, including Remus who finally showed his pecks you didn’t know existed. James had his body lines and muscles nicely toned, including the V-line that followed to his trunks. He and Sirius were joking around, playfully fighting and pushing each other in the water. You could hear Sirius bark-like laugh from all over there and it plastered a nostalgic smile on your lips. 

You and him used to laugh together all the way. He wasn’t that nicely rippd as the other two but his shape was nicely fit and for some reason you couldn’t look away. 

And then- then the most perfect thing happened. 

‘ You and Sirius were studying for your final exams in your 5th year. He kept groaning and whining as he kept re-reading the same line for the past 5 minutes. 

“Come on, Black. Just one more exam.” you said as you flipped the page.

“No.” He jumped on his feet and walked to his stereo, turning on the radio and surfing through the stations for some music. 

‘I’m begging! - the song started and Sirius couldn’t help himself but smile so brightly, jumping on his feet and clapping  

“Sirius no!” you laughed at his funky dance moves 

‘ Beggin', beggin' you Put your loving hand out baby ‘ - he put his hand on his heart and started walking towards you, pulling you up. 

“Come on, baby. Put your loving hand out dar-darling!” 

‘ Riding high, when I was king Played it hard and fast, cause I had everything!’ - he continued to sing outloud and to your surprise he had a nice voice. 

He interwined his fingers with yours and pulled you close, both dancing and laughing as the song continued.’

The two of you made so many dance moves to this song that day and when you heard the same intro, your eyes locked with his so fast until James hand pushed Sirius face back into the water. 

You let out a giggle as he came back out, confused and his hair all over his face. He pushed James back and slicked back his wet hair, lookign back at you, smiling and singing along the lyrcs.

‘ Walked away, won me then But easy come and easy go And it would end-’ 

He could see the giggles coming from all that distance, so with a leap of his heart, he jumped out of the water and started to make his way to you. 

Running before the next few lines of the song could come, you stood up as well and just let it play out. 

‘  So why anytime I bleed, you let me go Anytime I feed you get me know Anytime I see you let me know But, I plan and see just let me goI'm on my knees when I'm (beggin'g) Cause I don't want to lose (you) -’

He was now close to you, dripping from water and panting from the run and watching you with apologetic eyes. Opening his arms he continued.  “ I got my arms on spread And I hope that my heart gets fed, matter of fact girl I'm beggin'.” 

You stayed quiet for the chorus, letting him watch your reaction and letting his smile falter. He bit his lips, completely embarrased from what he did but it was after the chorus, that you grabbed his hand and started singing.

“ I need you, (yeah) to understand Tried so hard To be your man The kind of man you want in the end Only then can I begin to live again.” you pressed yourself on his chest, feelign your heart flutter on his touch and smiling so wide your cheeks started to hurt. 

Happy as a man could be, Sirius spun you around until you were back to his chest, his hand on your hip just for a few moments before he spun you away and continued to sing the next part. 

‘ An empty shell I used to be Shadow of my life Was hangin' over meA broken man That I don't know Won't even stand the devils dance To win my soul ‘ 

You laughed and he did as well because all this song was planned for when the two of you were 15, singing it back in his room during studying. Whenever it came on the radio, the two of you would sing out your part, no matter how awful your voices sounded. 

‘ Why we chewing, why we chasing Why the bottom, why the basement Why we got good shit don't embrace it Why the feel for the need to replace me ‘ - both of you sang together, throwing your hands and jumping just as you did 3 years ago, his arms wrapping around you and pulling you close as you wrapped your arms around him as well, swinging on both of your feet. 

The song continued to play but the two of you continued to stay in each other’s arms, his cold and wet body against your heated one. Overjoyed as he was, he let his nose dig into the crook of your neck, smelling the shampoo he was so obsessed with but this time it was a fresh scent of watermelon. 

He pulled away and cupped your cheeks. “Watermelon?”

You laughed at his obsession with your shampoos and nodded. “Yeah. Nice fragmence.” you shrugged and grabbed your towel, turning to your friends. “I’m going to the other side for a while- that’s alright?” you asked as Fran put up her glasses and checked Sirius from head to toe, grinning. 

“Honey, as long as I can come with you? Might introducing me to the tall one?” all the two of you turned to the guy she was pointing.

“Moony?” Sirius smiled.

“Remus?” you looked at her and gave her a wink. “Sure.” you said without feeling any kind of jealousy feeling inside of you as you thought you would. 

Fran got up and grabbed her stuff as well, following the two of you. You let Sirius go a bit further so you could lean to Fran and whisper in her ear. “The abs one.” you smiled and she turned, smiling cheekely as well. 

“Yeah?”

“Fantastic kisser.” you said, pulling down your glasses and running to Sirius side. 

---

There wasn’t a sconf of an awkward moment between the group when you and Fran came. James had his eyes narrowed at the two of you meanwhile Remus kept smirking at the sun, just knowing he was right. Right about you and Sirius, right about how everything would turn out anyway and right in general. It brought him some sort of pleasure but if he was honest with himself, he truly wished that he wasn’t right for this. 

“Took you long enough.” James beamed, giving you a long hug and squeezing you tightly. “Thought we’d have to- you know?” you could feel his arm muscles tighten as he lifted you and started carrying towards the lake.

“James- James! James don’t you fuckign dare! James!” you continued to try get out of his grip when he threw both of the two of you into the cold water. 

You felt your whole heated, sunburnt body get washed by the coldness of the water, James arms wrapping around your stomach and pulling you out with him into the surface, laughing. “Welcome back ,Twizzlers.”

“YOU TWAT!” you splashed and kicked him underwater as he pulled you back and took a hold of your head.

“Take a deep breath baby.” he said and you could feel yourself panic a bit as he dunked your under again. 

You swam around him and tried to do the same but he kept his arms fighting yours and he dunked you again until Sirius jumped in, screaming.

“CANON BALL!” he shouted as he splashed next to the two of you, dunking James head under water and smiling at you as he held him under. “He gets cocky if he always wins.” he winked at you with a smile as you laughed.

“Makes two of you.” 

---

When the evening started to approach and only a few more people stayed, mostly Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs. 

Sirius continued to watch you from his spot. Since you sat down on the pier and dipped your into the lake, swinging them back and forth. 

Nobody could really know what Sirius was thinking but both of the one boy had a a close idea of what he might be thinking. Remus and Fran were both gone somewhere and James was just about to leave. He couldn’t yet. Not until Sirius was next to you. 

“You know- you’ve waited for years to tell her how you feel, if you continue to do so, it’s going to turn worse than before.” he told him, standing up and grabbing his towel before leaving him. 

When he turned around, he could see Sirius standing up and slowly making his way to you. Pleased with himself, he left the two of you alone. 

Sirius stopped a few feet behind you. He could feel his heart throbbing inside of him but at the same time, the calm lake and the following clouds on the sky that you observed so distinctively let the throb fade. 

You could feel him when he sat down next to you. His eyes watchign forward, his legs swinging gently from the dock. It was only a couple of moments when his eyes averted from the sky to you. He was observing- observing the burns on your nose and cheeks- the sticky tuft of your hair that was pulled up into a bun but some falling down because of the weak rubber-band. 

You looked at him as well, your eyes in this perfect doting join.

“A day doesn’t go by I don’t think of what I did to you. You and the other three that day. “ he started and you sighed, trying to interrupt him.

“Sirius-”

“No, just let me say this.” he said, looking away for a moment before locking his eyes with yours. “I knew it was you. I knew it was you when you called out my name and tried to pull me away. I knew- at first I thought that it was Peter because that could have been excuse that I didn’t mean it but I was so hurt- so hurt when Remus told me that you and him-” he stopped, looking away and clearing his throat. “Uhm...I knew it was you but I was so angry- I was SO angry at you, at the world, at this stupid destiny where you don’t love me like I want you to love me. I punished you for it. I hit you because I had noone else to hit but you have to believe me, (y/n), I regretted it right after. I wouldn’t do that to you- I wouldn’t but I did and I think I’ll probably regret it till the day that I die.” his eyes started to tear up but you quickly took his hand and brought it to your cheek. 

“When we started hanging out, I was in love with you. I was so in love with how you could make me feel at times, you know but I didn’t want to be one of those girls and I wanted to prove that to you. I wanted to prove to you I could be more to you than those girls- and then you started flirting with other girls and I was relieved because then we could still be friends and not have it complicated.” you smiled and saw his eyes falling out of his head when you said you were in love with him. “James was funny. He was and I knew since I couldn’t have you, I can have him because you never liked me the way I liked you, so I just stopped liking you and you didn’t mind me flirting with James so I thought that was it.”

“And then 5th year happened and I realized I was in love with you. I tried to bury it. I really did because you were my best friend but then a thought kept repeating itself in my head, saying that being in love with my best friend isn’t really a bad idea, is it.”

“Well I didn’t realize you did fancy me back until 7th year-”

“The bracelet?” he asked and you laughed. 

“I thought it was just a token of your love for me but months after you not dating anybody but hover around me kind of made me think.” 

“Every day before I went to see you I tried to repeat what I wanted to say. Then you kissed James and I was so mad- so mad your first kiss was with James and not me. Because you can’t ever forget your first kiss-”

“You and Jill?”

“Yeah-” he laughed, reminiscing back. “Still, all I could think about was what you said about soulmates and first kisses, you know? I guess if I kissed you first, you’d think I was your soulmate- or something- I don’t know.” he tried to laugh it off, knowing it was probably a stupid thing to say... but it was true and he promised himself to tell you everything. “And then Remus- and Remus is an excellent kisser, better than James-”

“What?” you cut in, watching him with shock. “You kissed-”

“Everybody kisses their friends at least once.” he shrugged. “Except us appereantly.” he leaned and wiggled his eyebrows meanwhile you scoffed and pushed him back. 

“In your dreams, Black.” you laughed and he leaned back on his arms, swinging his legs.

“Worth a try.” he smiled. 

“I promised myself I won’t get involved with you four anymore.” you said. “Since the whole Remus fiasco- we didn’t... I mean, when you said if we... if we slept together. We didn’t.” 

He turned his head to you, watching your whole face features as he simpered. “I know. Remus explained the whole deal.” he then narrowed his eyes at you and continued. “You got Remus drunk. James and I have been trying to get him drunk for years.” 

“Well, you and James are clearly not a woman.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?!” he laughed.

“Let’s say you were at a party- and that you weren’t an alcoholic that you were- a girl approaches you and offers you a drink. Would you take it?” 

“Yes.”

“And if your friends who were always so clearly drunk and irresponsible offered you a drink, would you take it?”

“Is that an insult?”

“Sirius...”

“I get your point.” he brushed his hand in defeat, looking back at the sight in front of you. 

You followed his eyes and let the silence take over. 

“So what now?” he asked. “What are we?”

“Are you still in love with me?” you asked him as he kept quiet, putting up his hand and for the first time since he sat down, you noticed the bracelet he wore- your bracelet. 

He twisted it around his wrist and smiled at it. “I’d like to think so, yes.” he smiled at you. “Are you in love with me?” he asked, watching your eyes so focused on the bracelet. 

Smiling, he took it off his hand and offered to put it on you. 

“It was always meant to be yours.” he said and you put up your hand, feeling your heart tighten in your chest. “If you still want it?” 

“I do.” you nodded, feeling your eyes water but you quickly dried them off. 

He put the bracelet back on your wrist and later pulled out the long chain from his trunks’ pocket. 

You couldn’t believe your eyes. He kept it.

He put the chain around his neck and clasped it together, bringing the silver in to the front. “I kept it and I never told anybody where I got it.” he kept the ring in his hands before letting it hang around his neck, looking at you. “So...” he said and you looked up at his eyes. “Are you in love with me still?” 

He was prepared. His whole body was prepared, tense, veins beating in sync with his heart. 

“Maybe.” you said, smiling.

“Maybe?” he asked, smiling. “Is that a yes? A no?”

“It’s a maybe.” you continued to smile, though you knew the exact answer to his question, you just didn’t want to let him know it yet.

“Than if it’s a maybe, I’ll wait.” he stood up and offered you a hand. “Whatever the real answer is-” he pulled you up until the two of you were chest to chest. “-I’ll still want you to be in my life. Friends or not. I could live with us being just friends but I could never live without you being a part of my life.” he said, pulling you into a hug and holding you, knowing what he said was the truth and knowing excatly that besides that one regret, he wouldn’t have any more of them.