#I knew I had to incorporate it into my fic somehow! its not just in the title though

[kylos-starlight]

Once again making a fic that makes you want to slap us both 💜

[dreamingofep]

Sinned Awakening pt. 10🩸

An AU Elvis fic

(Vampire!Elvis/Vampire Austin!Elvis × reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Request: No

Prompt: Getting promoted to be Elvis full time housekeeper, you realize the man holds secrets beyond belief and your undeniable attraction makes you fear the unknown. [Fem!Reader]

TW: Cussing, tension, angst, spanking, oral, Smutt, blood/gore 🩸

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 7.7K

A/N: Hello everyone!

Welcome to part 10! I can't believe we've gotten this far! There's still so much we're learning about these two and it's only getting more complex by the day. A reminder, this is Vampire!Elvis so there is going to be mentions of blood/gore from here on out. If that's not your thing, sorry but it's needed for the story.

There's a lot going on this chapter that I've been wanting to include in a chapter at some point but haven't felt like its the right time. First off, when I first had the idea for this fic, I was curious when the first vampire myth came to be. It turns out it started out in Ancient Greece and a "vampire like being" was created by the gods. It fascinated me and I knew I needed to incorporate it into my story somehow.

Second, I have a soft spot for Elvis singing gospel. I know I needed to add a meaningful song to the chapter to show his vulnerability and You'll Never Walk Alone came to my head. When Elvis recorded this, it is actually him playing the piano in the recording. While this isn't technically a gospel song, it was written by Rodgers and Hammerstein for the musical Carousel but you can see how Elvis might have interpreted it as so. Take a listen if you want 🤭

I wanna say thanks to those of you for reading from the very beginning or, if you somehow stumbled across this one late night on Tumblr or Ao3 and decided to give it a shot. Your enthusiasm about this little story makes my heart sing so thank you!

If you’d like to start reading from the beginning, start here. 🩸

Thank you again! Please let me know what you think in the comments or send me a message!

Sorry for any spelling mistakes and overall goofs.🖤

You shake your head at him, watching him give you that sly smirk that you love so much, knowing that he has you in the palm of his hand. He leaves the bedroom with the door open and you follow him to see where he’s run off to so quickly. You grab the pajama top and put it back on you, buttoning the first few and following him into the next room. 

He’s standing by the small bar and opens a bottle of water. You walk to him leaning over the ledge as he hands you the glass. 

“Here honey,” he says smoothly. 

You take a sip, not realizing how much you need this. He comes around the bar to sit on the stool, drinking you in. He had his pajama bottoms on but left his chest exposed, giving you the best view imaginable. You look him up and down as he does to you and press your lips together, fighting the smirk forming on your face.

You step in between his legs, rubbing your hands up his chest gently, gliding around his neck, then up to his hair. He murmurs contently, but you pull at his hair harshly, making him grunt. 

You get close to his ear, “Take this out of me. Now.” You growl. 

“No. Not yet,” he says smugly, laughing softly. 

“What do you mean not yet?” you hiss. “I’m not having you play with me like this.”

He puts his hand around your neck, softly squeezing it, and makes you look at his dangerous eyes.

“Yes, you will. Trust me, you will listen to me,” he boasts.

“No, I won’t. You forget that I can resist your… charm,” you smirk at him, knowing that’s going to piss him off. He hates that you can’t be compelled by him and shoving it in his face is the icing on the cake. 

He squeezes his eyes closed in a frustrated manner and opens them back up facing you intensely. 

“You’re going to be the death of me hmm? Just never going to listen and constantly test me?” He grumbles rubbing his thumb lightly over the bruise on your neck. 

“Hmm… yes that sounds like a marvelous plan. Can’t let you get too comfortable,” you tease. 

“Using my own words against me, I don’t know what I’m going to do with you,” he quips, running his fingers through your hair. 

“I’m sure you’ll find a way,” you tease. “But first do something else with this,” you grunt, taking your finger and pulling the ring out of you, pushing it against his chest, your slick covering it. 

His eyes light up in shock and stares at you. You know you’re pushing it, he likes to be obeyed but something in you loves to get a rise out of him. It’s all dangerous though, his mood is so drastic especially when he’s hungry so you have to watch yourself. It’s been two days since he fed and you’re unaccustomed to how he acts when he does need to eat again. Can’t be worse than the first day you two met so you think you can handle anything. 

He doesn’t grab the ring right away, just looks at you like he could pin you down in one swoop and make you beg for his mercy. His eyes grow dark and his lips form a pompous look, waiting for your next dangerous move. You decide to grab his hand and slip the ring back on his ring finger. 

“There you go sweetheart,” you say mockingly, walking away towards the bathroom to wipe the slick in between your thighs. In the blink of an eye, he is in front of you again, towering over you, his breathing heavy. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” He seethes. 

“I’m not leaving if that’s what you’re thinking. You don’t have to break the doorknob again,” you taunt. 

His face drops and his eyes turn fiery. “You are unbelievable. Someone ought to put you in your place,” he rasps.

“I know honey. Put me on top of the piano again and show me how to behave,” you quip, rubbing your hand against his cock making him hiss in frustration. 

He quickly picks you up and puts you over his shoulder. You gasp and try to get out of his grasp but he’s far too strong compared to you. He takes long strides to the guest room and puts you down on the bed face down. You put your arms out quickly to brace yourself but he roughly grabs your wrists, putting them behind your back. You protest and continue to try to wiggle out of his hand that is grasping onto both of your wrists, keeping you still. You rest your forehead on the bed and let out a frustrated grunt. 

He pulls at your hair to turn your head to the side and leans down into the crook of your neck. 

“What did you think that kind of behavior was going to get you? You just like gettin’ me all riled up, is that it?” He hisses. You know you’re gonna get it, your little game has now turned into his and he loves to win. You feel him nip at your neck causing both of you to grunt. 

“Maybe a little,” you whimper. 

He doesn’t like that answer. Not one bit. 

He grunts and takes another nip at your neck. 

“I know I can’t make you listen to me, but I’m gonna have to teach you to listen to me,” he growls. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion but that’s when you feel it. 

His hand moves up to scrunch your pajamas out of the way and giving you a spank on your ass. You’re in shock and the stinging left behind on you makes you gasp. 

“Elvis don’t you dare!” You squeal out. 

“You’re gonna listen to me from now on won’t you,” he asks, giving you another spank. 

Your eyes water, not used to the feeling of anyone hitting your backside like this. He gives you another spank, letting out a breathy grunt. 

“Elvis!” You squeal. 

He pulls at your hair again, making your head lift from the bed. 

“Are you gonna listen? You gonna be good for me?” 

“Mhmm… most of the time,” you grumble, gasping for air. 

His hand comes down again but this time, a little moan comes out of your mouth instead and a new wave of pleasure begins to pour over you. You shouldn’t be surprised at this point that Elvis has unlocked another spark of pleasure you didn’t know existed before him. 

Now you want him to spank you, turning his little game into your pleasure.  

He murmurs contently,“Mhmm thats what I thought. You liking your punishment now honey?” He growled. 

“Your hands feel too good on me to be a punishment,” you gasp.

He gives you one last spank and you can’t help but moan louder. 

“Oh fuck, baby,” you groan. He squeezes your ass and places a kiss in the crook of your neck. He moans too and his fingers graze your folds, wet with arousal. 

“Jesus, such a naughty girl. I should put something in your mouth for saying such vulgar things.” He grumbles.

“Mhmm, I think that would be the appropriate punishment,” you tease.

He lets go of your wrists and turns you around to face him towering over you, your back laying on the bed, and your legs wrapped around his torso. He has a string grip on your thighs and has a big grin on his face when you look up at him. 

“You just can’t behave,” he growls, his thumb lightly pressing on your clit making you jump, still very sensitive. 

You shake your head no at him, batting your eyes at him. 

“Don’t be mad at me. I’ll be good. I’m sorry,” you whimper. His thumb continues to tease and you feel yourself get wetter. You watch his almost drunk eyes look at your weeping pussy and watch how he wants you to himself all over again. He pulls down the waist band of his pajamas and takes his cock out, hard once again. He really wasn’t lying that he never gets tired…

“Show me then. Show me how sorry you are,” he commands. His voice makes you quiver and you know what he’s asking for. You adjust your body on the bed and lay on you stomach, your forearms popping you up. You lick the tip of him softly, making him sigh with satisfaction.

“Please, forgive me baby,” you whisper before you wrap your lips around his head and suck, taking more of him in your mouth gradually. His hips buck into your mouth, wanting to fill you quickly with his length. You moan out, loving the way he’s so eager.

You know what he likes and know what will get him to come unglued the fastest. Your hand reaches for his balls, massaging them lightly. He bucks his hips into you again, causing you to gag around him.

“You fucking naughty girl,” he moans, placing his knee on the bed to move easier. You lick and suck more, groaning when how he puts more of his cock down your throat, making your eyes water.

“Sucha good girl. Relax your throat and let me fuck it some more,” he growls, taking a fist full of your hair in his hand and moves in and out of you. Your hand continues to touch his balls, getting him to let out all these animalistic grunts. 

You let him move, feeling how he won’t last that long with how you’re touching him and the way he’s moving inside you. You place your hand on his shaft that’s not in your mouth and jerk him off, licking and sucking his sensitive head.

He keeps groaning and cursing your name, getting so close.

“Baby, I’m gonna cum, right in that pretty mouth of yours,” he moans, moving his hips a few more times before he releases in your mouth. He fills your mouth quickly and makes you fall apart too with the sounds he’s making. You can’t help but gag around his length and moan with how he’s using you. It’s so dirty but you couldn’t care less. He was yours. All yours. 

He pulls his cock out of your mouth and watches you swallow everything he gave you. You smirks at you, pulling your body up to kiss you.

His lips devour yours and has his hands back on your body, consuming your bare flesh. You moan into his mouth loving how he feels on you. He slips his tongue into your mouth and deepens the kiss further. He feels like heaven as he touches all the parts that only he knows you like to be caressed.

He briefly pauses, giving you some air. 

“You’re good at apologizing,” he groans, going back to give you another kiss. 

You nod your head in agreement, “oh I’m glad you accepted the apology,” you quip. 

He smiles down at you, “So bad. You’re so bad. I like a good girl,” he teases. 

“Well, you’re going to have to deal with a bad girl then,” you say, your voice sultry. 

His hands squeeze your ass, pushing your body more into him. God, you’re a mess because of this man. He knows how to make you weak at all times and half the time he isn’t even trying. You’re addicted to his attention and his body and the way he makes you feel. It’s all never enough. You don’t know where this is going to end up but all you know is you need him at all times. Probably not the same level as him but in terms of being human, you didn’t want him to go away and leave you.

He smoothly pulls you onto him, having you lay your head on his chest. His skin melts into your warmth and makes you want to fall asleep on him. You feel so content here and you two wallow in the silence together. The longer you lay there, a chill runs through your body and his body temperature starts to make you shiver. He tries to hold you tighter but it isn’t helping. He grabs the blanket at the edge of the bed and covers your body.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“It’s fine,” you says, wrapping the blanket tighter around you.

You adjust your head on his chest and your ear presses into where his heart is and for the first time, you hear his strange heartbeat. It’s so faint, barely obtainable by your ears and his slow breathing makes you realize how inhuman he really is. 

All of him is a facade that is made to please his victims. It’s so strange feeling and touching him knowing what you know now.

Thump…….silence……. 

Your hand trails up his stomach to his chest, placing your hand over his heart and look up at him surprised.

“I know,” he says, looking at you like he knows what you’re about to say. 

“Your heart… It’s so, quiet,” you whisper.

“Mhmm, it doesn’t work so well anymore,” he mumbles, kissing the top of your head, “Don’t worry about me.” 

“Is that how it always is? So… dormant,” you say softly.

“Yes. Ever since I’ve been bit. It’s also affected by how much I umm… eat,” he says carefully.

“I didn’t know. There’s just so much I’m finding out for the first time with you. You have to understand this stuff freaks me out a bit,” you explain.

He wraps his arms around you tighter, trying his best to comfort you.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry about all of this. You should have never found out. I should have never laid a hand on you, maybe then this all would be so much easier,” He says sorrowful.

“Honey, that’s not what I mean at all. I’m so happy with you. More than I have been in a very long time but it’s just this new bomb has dropped that you’re not really who I thought you are is going to take some time to get used to. I only found out two days ago that you’re…,” you say sheepishly when he cuts you off.

“I know baby, I know. I wish I could be different for you. Be exactly who you deserve but I can’t help it.” He says defeated, slowly lifting you up off his chest and getting off the bed, feeling the mood of the room drastically shift. 

You know he is this very powerful being that has abilities beyond your wildest dreams but as he looks down at you, sorrow filling his eyes, you see how fragile he really is. His stature is slouched, and his eyes look tired and gaunt. You want to comfort him, reach out and tell him everything is going to be alright but in reality, you don't know if that’s the truth.

“Baby, please come lay with me. I don’t want you to go. I didn’t mean to upset you,” you plead.

He looks at the clock on the wall and it reads midnight. “Maybe you should get some rest. You haven’t been sleeping well so I’ll leave you alone,” he says weakly.

You try to protest but he’s already out the door, softly closing it behind him.

You let out a frustrated grunt. You couldn’t sleep even if you tried. You hated seeing him hurt and wished you could make him forget all of his self-hatred.

You can only understand a fragment of how he felt about himself and how he felt when he looked in the mirror. He made this life-altering decision and now thirteen years later, does he regret it?

Does he regret it because you are now in his life?

Are you the reason he thinks differently about everything?

You don’t know but you also need to figure out what to do about this situation. There was one thing you knew for certain; you wanted him. You want him like no other person on this planet. You don’t think you wanted Daniel like this the you two were first seeing each other. These were two very different situations but they still affected you deeply.

That was another thing you had to figure out was how you were going to move out of that apartment and where you were going to live next. You didn’t want any confrontation with Daniel. There was no point in it and you made up your mind. Leaving was going to be the best option for both of you and maybe you could start the next chapter of your life freely.

You knew Anna wouldn’t mind letting you stay a little longer to figure your shit out. You were thankful for her and her kindness. Oh shit. 

You took her car when you thought you were going to just talk to Elvis. Now it's been days later and you haven’t even called her.

Shit she’s gonna kill me, you think.

Your chaotic thoughts swirl in your head and you panic. You see a phone on top of the dresser and quickly scramble out of the bed and reach for the phone. You start to dial her number and glance up at the clock and it is already half past two. She was definitely fast asleep but you needed to talk to her.

The phone rings a couple of times and the sound her her groggy voice fills the receiver.

“H-hello?”

“Hey Anna, it's me,” you whisper.

“Y/n? Are you okay? I’ve been so worried about you. What’s going on?” She asks.

You pause and take a deep breath. You know Elvis is probably listening with ease to your conversation so you know you need to choose your words carefully.

“I’m fine. I’m sorry I haven’t called… things have been… hectic,” you admit.

“Y/n I know when something is wrong. What’s going on?” She asks more firmly.

“I can’t really tell you specifics… but I’m sorry I took your car. Let me come by and pick you up for work so you can have it back,” you suggest.

“Okay, we’ll talk about this later, see you at 5:30. Just let yourself in with the key. I’m glad you’re okay though, I was worried sick.”

“I know, I’m sorry again, I’ll see you soon I promise,” you say before hanging up. 

You fall back onto the bed again, staring up at the ceiling, feeling crushed by guilt.

You try to take a nap but it feels too hot and too cold at the same time. An hour passes by and you’re restless. Elvis hasn’t made a sound in a few hours and you were curious what he was doing.

You put your pajama top on again and peeking out into the living room. You see piles of books scattered about on the tables and sofa. You decide to pick one up, curious about what he’s reading. You sit down on the sofa, scanning the mess of literature in front of you.

The thick, red, leather-bound book felt ancient, the pages were so thin, that you had to be extra careful touching them. You scan the pages seeing what this one is about. In the text, it explains, what a vampire is:

“The main characteristic of vampires is they drink human blood. They typically drain their victim’s blood using their sharp fangs, killing them slowly and turning them into vampires. Making the victim bite them in return to complete the process.”

A chill runs up your spine as you read these details of what these pages tell.

“Vampires are typically said to be of pale skin and range in appearance from grotesque to preternaturally beautiful…”

Yeah, that one is pretty obvious he’s supernaturally gorgeous.

You pick up the next book and thumb through the pages, reading the ancient lore of the first vampire showing up in Ancient Greece that was cursed by the Gods. This surprised you because you thought stories of the Greek Gods were just a fable, something that was made up. You don’t think you’ll ever be able to comprehend that stories are no longer myths and probably have more truth residing in them than you think.

You start to read the story of Ambrogio, a young adventurer born in Italy and one who longed to travel to Greece. When he was old enough, he set sail to Greece and traveled to the Eastern area of Delphi.

This was the home of Apollo’s temple, God of the Sun. When he was visiting, Ambrogio met an Oracle who would sit in a chamber within the temple and speak prophecies inspired by Apollo to those who came to seek the Oracle’s wisdom.

She only repeated: “The curse. The moon. The blood will run.”

It kept him up all night, worried about what the Oracle meant. He went for a walk and he saw a beautiful woman dressed in white walking to the temple. He stopped her and she told him her name was Selene and was the maiden of the temple. Her sister was the Oracle and would take care of her when she would be working. For the next few days, Ambrogio met Selene before she entered the temple and they fell madly in love.

On his last day in Greece, he asked Selene to marry him and return with him to Italy. She said yes and they agreed they would meet the next day at dawn outside the temple.

But this entire time, Apollo had been watching. He too loved Selene and grew enraged that Ambrogio would come to his temple and steal one of his maidens away. At sunset, Apollo appeared to Ambrogio and gave him a curse that from this day forward, the mere touch of Apollo’s sunlight would burn his skin.

He was terrified and had nowhere to go as the sun would burn him as soon as the sun rose. He hid in a cave that led to Hades. Hades, the God of the Underworld, listened to his cry for help and made him a deal. If Ambrogio could steal the silver bow of Artemis and bring it back, he would grant him and Selene protection in the underworld. As collateral, Ambrogio had to leave his soul behind with Hades until he returned with the bow. If he didn’t return with the bow, he would have to live in the Underworld forever, never seeing Selene again.

He took his bow and arrows and set out on his mission. He had no parchment to write to Selene what was going on, so he shot a swan, using its blood for ink and taking a single feather to write a poem to her. He did this for forty-four days, never missing a single day.

On the forty-fifth night, he had one arrow left and shot at a swan and missed. He felt hopeless and cried for help. Artemis, sister of Apollo and the Goddess of Hunting and the Moon, heard his cry. He begged her for one arrow to write Selene a note and she took pity on him. She let him borrow one silver arrow and he quickly ran to Hade’s cave to deliver the object to him. Artemis realized what was happening and cast her own curse on him; for silver to burn his skin.

Ambrogio begged for her forgiveness and explained the curse Apollo gave him and his undying love for Selene that he didn’t have any choice but to do what he had done. She pitied him and decided to give him one last chance. She offered to make him a great hunter, almost as great as she was, with the speed and strength of a god and fangs with which to drain the blood of the beasts to write his poems. In exchange for this immortality, he would have to agree to a deal. He and Selene would have to escape Apollo's temple and worship only Artemis forever. The catch was that Artemis was a virgin goddess, and all of her followers had to remain chaste and unmarried, so Ambrogio was never allowed to touch Selene again. They could never kiss, never touch, never have children. He quickly agreed and left a note to Selene at the temple to meet him at the docks and ran away before Apollo would notice he was there.

She met him at the ship and she found him hiding in a coffin, sheltering from the sunlight. They sailed to Ephesus where they would live many long and happy years together. They stayed faithful to Artemis and never touched or kissed. While he stayed the same after all those years, Selene grew old and ill and was on her deathbed. He couldn’t bear to see her die and knew he would not be with her in the afterlife since his soul still resided with Hades. He ran to the woods and found a white swan and shot it, offering it to Artemis, begging to make Selene immortal like him.

Artemis thanked Ambrogio for all their dedication to her after all these years and would make him one last deal. He could touch Selene just once - to drink her blood. Doing so would kill her mortal body, but from then on, her blood mixed with his could create eternal life for any who drank of it. If he did this, Artemis would see to it that they stayed together forever. Ambrogio was terrified and didn’t want to do it, but when he explained this to Selene, she begged him to bite her. He had no choice but to bite her and took her blood into his body as he watched her body be lifted up to the sky where she met Artemis on the moon. She beamed with brilliant light where Artemis granted her to become the Goddess of the Moonlight, where her rays of light would shine upon everyone and her beloved Ambrogio.

This story left you in shock, the story of the first vampires on this earth were made by the gods? So much information flooded your head and you needed to borrow some of these books from Elvis. In a way, you thought it was beautiful, the way he made her immortal out of his undying love for her even though he thought he was cursed for all eternity. They got to spend forever together. You wonder how they turned other people into, what would later be known as, vampires.

You easily could sit here the rest of the night sifting through all these books but you should see where Elvis ran off to. You call out for him but hear nothing in the suite. You check his bedroom and it is untouched and quiet. You decide to see if his men outside know where he ran off to. You grab the blanket from the bedroom to wrap around you since you don’t have any pants on and don’t need any wandering eyes on you. 

Opening the door, a man is standing outside of it as usual.

“Hey, where’d Elvis go?” You ask.

“Downstairs, in the ballroom,” he says without turning around.

“Can you get out of the way so I can get through the doorway?” You say ticked off, pushing past him to get out of the suite.

His frame is stiff and rigid just like Elvis’ and you can feel his cold temperature brush off you.

You stare up at him in bewilderment.

“Oh my God, he turned you? Didn’t he?” You say in shock.

He takes a moment to pause and remove his sunglasses. His eyes were dark, almost black, just like how Elvis’ got.

“Yes. Do you always ask so many questions?” He grumbles.

“Fuck you. What floor is he on?” You snap.

He takes a deep breath before answering, “First floor. Make a right out of the elevator to the door that says Ballroom 1.” He says annoyed.

You push past the rest of the men that you now know are vampires and get into the elevator. How many other people has he turned? Did they have any say over the matter? Or was he so thirsty he couldn’t control himself…

You pinch yourself, stopping from creating these awful scenarios in your head.

You get off the elevator and get out, going down the hallway til you reach the ballroom doors. Quietly turning the knob, you look into the room. It was filled with chairs and musical instruments and you hear the soft playing of a piano. You step inside fully and close the door, finding Elvis with his back turned toward you, dressed in his robe, black pajama bottoms, and wearing his slippers.

When you walk through a storm

Hold your head up high

And don't be afraid of the dark…

His voice rings out flawlessly, it makes you have chills as you have never heard him sing live before. Something about his voice in person is better than any recording could ever capture. You watch his long fingers dance over the ivory keys, pressing delicately and letting the beautiful music fill the room. 

At the end of a storm

There's a golden sky

And the sweet silver song of a lark

You make your way further into the room. He never fails to keep you in awe of him. Even though he saw himself as a monster, you saw him like a Greek God. Perfect in every way. From his chiseled jawline to his perfect nose, there wasn’t a flaw you saw on him. Every inch of him was perfect and you wanted to make him see that. “Cursed,” or not, you were entirely enthralled by Elvis Presley.

You stand behind him, your hands trail down along his chest making him breathe deeply and he leans back into you.

He inhales your scent and grumbles, taking another breath before singing the next line. 

Walk on through the wind

Walk on through the rain

For your dreams be tossed and blown

… Walk on, walk on

With hope in your heart

And you'll never walk alone

He plays the last few notes and leaves them ringing out on the grand piano. He sits there still, not making a sound.

“That was beautiful honey. You sing it so soulfully,” you whisper, kissing his neck.

He lets out a low growl, “You should have stayed upstairs.”

“Hiding from me isn’t going to solve your problems. Talk to me,” you plead.

“I just wanted to play without disturbing you. You need your rest,” he says.

“I can’t rest when I know you’re upset. The song was beautiful. You sing with so much love in your voice,” you praise.

You see his face crack a smile when he hears this from you.

“Thanks… Gospel music makes me the happiest. It’s what I first fell in love with. Sometimes I sit here and play for hours, trying to get God to listen to me,” he says weakly.

He turns to look at you, tears filling his eyes, “Do you think God can forgive me? For what I’ve done? For who I am?” He looks so fragile, wanting love and acceptance from God. From you. He still had so many human qualities even if he didn’t see them. He was insecure just like the rest of us. Wanting love and acceptance no matter what we do in life. 

But he wanted to hear acceptance from you in particular.

You had heard he was very religious, but now that he was… well, no longer human, you didn’t know how he felt about religion.

“Oh, honey… I don’t know much about religion… I frankly don’t know much about anything in this world anymore, but from what I’ve gathered, He’s a forgiving God. I think He can forgive you too.” You assure. 

He adjusts his legs on the piano bench, turning his body and putting each leg on the side of the bench to look at you. He looks into your eyes expectantly, “I don’t think so baby… I’m not good. I’ll just always be this,” he says exasperated looking down to the floor.

You take his face in your hands and make him look at you.

“You’re a lot better than most men. Trust me on this. I know you’re trying your best to be better. I see it,” you press. “

He shakes his head at you, taking your hands off of him, and squeezing them lightly.

“Honey, please, I can’t have you touch me right now. I don’t trust myself,” he grunts.

Your heart aches for him, frustrated he sees himself so evil.

“Baby, please. I trust you, I know you won’t hurt me.” You assure him, putting your hands back on his face. He lets out a content sigh feeling your skin on his.

“Honey, listen to me. I- I- shouldn’t. You need to know something. Before anytime I’m around you, or make love to you, I need to drink blood. Just so I can have some sense of control around you. I don’t want to hurt you,” he says weakly.

This made a lot of sense actually, how he would sneak off into his bathroom, his eyes becoming brighter and less clouded before he’d have you. 

“You’re okay. I trust you. I need to be with you,” you beg.

You place a kiss on his forehead, taking in his scent. He continues to look down, looking more defeated than you’ve ever seen him. You hate seeing him like this. He’s not listening to you and you need to make him. A bold rush comes over you and your hands trail down his chest to his torso where his robe is tied. You pull at the bow and watch his robe come apart, exposing his chest with the long gold chains hanging down on it.

His blue eyes meet yours and he looks at you cautiously.

“Honey, please,” he sighs.

You won’t listen to any of his protests, you’re so focused on him, determined to get him to forget all of his self-doubts and have him let you love him. You bring his hands to your hips, making him squeeze you gently.

“Touch me,” you whimper. He sighs frustratedly, looking up at your pleading eyes.

You drop the blanket and slowly unbutton your pajamas, flinging it to the side, watching his eyes get distracted by your breasts in his face. You straddle his hips and sit down, kissing his cheek, and wrapping your arms around his neck. His hands travel down to your ass and push you into his frame firmly. He grunts getting to feel your body like this and the response you give back to him.

You can feel his cock growing harder the more you tease and kiss his face. You nip at his neck, just as he does to you and he growls. “Goddamn it. You’re killing me,” he grunts.

You keep teasing him, softly rocking your hips into him, loving it as much as he does.

You pull at his hair to get him to meet your eager lips and kiss him passionately. He moans into your mouth and puts his hands in your hair. You pull away to get some air and his attentive mouth is licking and sucking on your breasts. Your eyes shut and your jaw slacks open as he sucks on your nipple, sending shock waves of pleasure through you. Your hips continue to grind on him and feel his length rubbing your core. This friction felt so good on you and you let out the moans you don’t want to hold back. This extreme amount of need flows through you and you don’t want to wait any longer. You can feel the arousal seep out of you and need him to feel what he’s doing to you.

“Let me fuck you,” you whisper in his ear, reaching underneath his robe and scratching down his back. He cusses under his breath and grumbles.

“Baby, I can’t… I can’t hurt you,” he professes.

“You’re not. I know you won’t. I want you to make me feel good,” you say with a roll of your hips. You reach for his hand and guide him to your wet folds. He groans when his fingers make that discovery and instinctively rubs his fingers on your clit, then teasing your entrance lightly.

“I need you,” you plead. 

He grunts heavily and sucks on your neck moaning your name, making your core throb. The way he moans your name should be illegal with how unglued you become and makes you feel like you’re on fire. “Please,” you continue to beg, “you know how long it’s been since you’ve fucked me?” You say in a moaning breath.

He groans, pushing your upper body away from his at an angle with his hand on your lower back, pressing his face into your breasts and nipping and sucking on them. This makes you moan and squirm too, loving the response you can get out of him.

“Yes, I do,” he pants,“ Five days. Five days since I’ve been able to stuff that tight little pussy and make you scream my name,” he grunts, making your core grind into him. You groan and feel your heartbeat start to race in your chest, his words making your core throb immensely. 

You stand up, hooking your fingers into his pajama bottoms, and slide them off. His cock springs free and you straddle him once more, taking him in your hand, rubbing him firmly.

“Do you want to do that, honey?” You whimper, weak already from this notion.

“Please, fuck me, baby,” he grunts, lifting you up and lining himself up to your entrance.

You love how needy you’ve made him and want to make him a puddle just as he makes you.

You sink down on his length, taking all of him quickly and you groan when you feel him stretching you, filling you so completely. 

“Holy shit. Oh, fuck baby,” you pant, your fingernails embedding into his shoulders. You move faster than you normally would, wanting to fuck him like you have never before.

His hands hold onto your hips tight, bringing you down on him hard and fast.

Both of your grunts fill the room and he feels too good, making you come apart faster than usual. You squeeze and claw at his biceps and moan out his name. He holds your hips still as you adjust to him. Rocking your hips back and forth, you feel how insanely good he’s filling you never wanting this to end.

He pushes his hips deep inside you, making you cry out in shock.

“Oh fuck yes baby, just like that,” he groans.

He places his hand on your lower stomach and pushes there. He’s added this new pressure inside you and you look at him in shock, having never felt like this. Your hips grind into the base of his cock, making you want to come.

“Oh God honey, y-you’re so deep inside me you’re killing me,” you gasp.

“Mhmm, keep moving,” he growls.

Your eyes roll back and you squeeze your eyes shut, letting all your instincts take over and fuck this perfect man underneath you. You can feel your walls begin to flutter the more you bounce on him, cussing his name like he’s your savior. You feel his hand wrap around your neck, making you pop your eyes back open.

“Look at me. Look at me when you’re fucking me,” he groans through his teeth, possessiveness rolling off of him like a tidal wave. You lock onto his eyes as his hips buck into you, taking you harder and faster. You can’t take much more of this, you feel the coil in your belly about to snap and the pressure added by his hand on your stomach makes you feel like you’re going to combust. You scream out his name, having to shut your eyes, getting too overwhelmed with each thrust.

His hands slide to your breasts, squeezing them firmly, his intensity blazing off of him. 

The sounds you two are making shouldn’t be allowed and being quiet isn’t an option for you. 

His hand grabs your jaw, making your eyes open again. 

“I said, look at me. I want to watch you come apart,” he groans, putting his hands back on your hips, helping you thrust on his length. 

He keeps you locked onto him, biting his lip as he watches your face marvel into pleasure. You can’t hold on for much longer, you can feel your body begin to fall apart with every loud heartbeat ringing in your ears.

“I’m- oh fuck baby,” you beg him, your eyes doing all the talking.

He growls in your ear and pants heavily, “cum for me, now,” he demands, possessiveness overflowing from him.

You hold onto him for dear life as your whole body tenses and the heat of the orgasm washes over you over and over again. You see stars behind your eyelids and gasp for air. You moan out his name as your walls squeeze his cock deep inside you. Your nails leave red marks down his back and he only fucks you harder. He lets out a deep, primal growl as he fucks you through your orgasm.

“Mhmm yes, you’re all mine baby, all mine,” he moans, loving the feeling of you squeezing him.

His face burrows into the crook of your neck, groaning loudly and heaving for air. You continue to ride out your orgasm and your vision becomes clear again. The grip his hands have on you is so firm, you’re afraid he’s going to leave huge bruises behind. You heard him inhale deeply into your neck and moan your name. He keeps you moving on his length even though you feel spent.

He suddenly places a hand on the back of your head and makes an animalistic groan. You feel his teeth on your neck and nips at your neck like always. Your heart races out of your chest as this all feels so overwhelming. You gasp with his mouth on your neck and push into him more, more moans escaping you. Then, it feels different. He was nipping harder than usual and it started to sting.

You start to panic and the sounds emitted in his throat begin to become louder.

A sharp pain spreads across your neck and you push his head away from your neck and cover your neck as a reflex from the pain.

“Ouch!” you yelp.

Your eyes widen in shock as you see a small amount of blood dribbled down on his bottom lip. You remove your hand from your neck and look down at your to see the blood on your fingertips. You can’t move, you’re too scared from how he’s looking at you and by the way he has this far dazed look in his eyes. He licks his bottom lip and tastes your blood, making this eyes roll back.

He then quickly lifts you off of him and he stands up, towering over your scared body. You watch how he heaves for air and how his fangs grow and sharpen. 

“Oh God,” you gasp.

Terror washes over you as you try to back away from Elvis, needing to give him space. You reach for the blanket on the floor and wrap yourself in it again. You keep pressure on your neck to stop it from bleeding but your racing heartbeat only makes it worse. He lets out these frustrated grunts, squeezing his eyes shut like he’s in pain.

He opens them again to look at you and they’re blood red, black veins spreading from under his eyes. You can’t speak, you’re too in shock from all that has happened. Elvis groans in pain, panting heavily and backing away from you.

“Leave. NOW!” He bellows making the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

 Nerves fill your body and you feel like you could pass out any second. You’ve never needed to get out of a room quicker than now with a starving vampire staring you down. You think this might be even worse than the first day with him. His eyes look so dangerous, so cunning, he has lost complete control of himself and won’t calm down til he gets his fill.

You start to stumble backward but your feet aren’t catching up with your brain. You can’t get out of here any faster. He presses his hands to his ears, groaning in agony.

“Fuck, get away from me! I can’t control myself. RUN!,” he yowls. He quickly turns away from you and you watch in horror how his fists fly up in the air, then come back down on the piano, splitting it in two.

The tumultuous sound it creates makes your skin crawl and your ears hurt. You turn to run to the door and all you hear is his painful, agonizing groans as he continues to bash at the piano.

You slam the door closed and make a run to the stairwell. You don’t care if anyone sees you running through the hotel in just a blanket, you need to get out of there fast.

You grab the keys to the car you left in the locker room and make a sprint for it to Anna’a apartment. Your heart hasn’t slowed down one bit from leaving the hotel. You drive recklessly on the side streets and hope to God you don’t get pulled over. You check your rearview mirror every five seconds, praying no one is following you. Elvis in particular.

You finally make it to the apartment, quickly park the car, and run upstairs. You can’t catch your breath and feel the entire room spin as you close the door behind you and quickly lock it. Your neck throbs at the bite mark and you place your hand back on it, checking to see if you’re still bleeding. Your blood paints your fingers and you whine in pain. Your flesh was already so sensitive there from the bruise that resided on it, but now the open wound stung and you needed to stop the bleeding.

The hall light comes on and you see Anna turn the corner, sleepy-eyed and squinting to try to adjust her eyes to the light.

“Y/n? Are you okay?” She says panicked, watching you stand there bloody wrapped in a blanket.

You gasp for air and feel the room closing in, “I- I- please help-,” you whimper before your knees give out and your world turns black in an instant.

*

*

*

Tagging:

@powerofelvis @burninlovebutler @neptuneismysister @velvetelvis @ccab @presleyenterprise @elvispresleyxo @loving-elvis

@prompted-wordsmith @sillybookmarks @dkayfixates @rosepresley @ellie-24 @rktismylife-blog @myradiaz @tacozebra051 @thatbanditqueen

@18lkpeters @flwrs4aust @emma181873 @austinswhitewolf @eliseinmemphis @everythingelvispresley @chasingwildflowers @idontwanttoputanything @ohjustpeachy @elvisalltheway101 @austinsmutler @kingdomforapony @generoustreemystic @kendralavon7 @lettersfromvenus @claire-elvisgirl

@ashtag6887 @burnthheparaphilia @richardslady121 @jaqueline19997

@returntopresley @iloveelvis @rjmartin11 @that-hotdog @louisejoy86 @misspresley @cattcb @annapresley8 @arrolyn1114 @raginginkedslut

[missingn000]

1. Is there a character that you didn't really expect to enjoy writing, but found out that you really liked them as you wrote their arc?

2. How much of the story did you plan out before you started writing? Like was it the whole story or just the major points?

3. What inspired Kenjaku's whole ideology? I really enjoyed his whole deranged villain monologue, which was surprising because while I had faith in you as a writer (it's clear that you put a lot of care into writing each character), Kenjaku was never a villain that I found interesting while reading jjk (like, I found him repulsive, but with not enough villain flair to at least make him feel like a compeling threat).

4. What is in your opinion the best part about writing a fic?

5. How did you decide to stick Hajime and Mahito together and why is it such a compelling dynamic?

✨️🎊✨️🎊✨️🎊✨️

1 -- SUKUNAAA. my god. he's in my top 3 least favorite characters in canon, so before i thought of his arc, i was lowkey dreading writing him. then i came up with his backstory, his key dynamics with members of the fam, and i just...ohhh when i tell you i fell in LOVE. i'll reveal the characters i picked as my top 3 faves when i release popularity poll results, but i will say this: sukuna is one of them

2 -- when i first started writing, i had a few major plot points -- the first chap of tpg was released 8 days after i came up with the idea itself (july 2 2021!) but the story developed quite quickly from there, so i'd say over the stretch of about ~2-3 months, i had a significant amount of major story developments planned out. that said, other major ideas came much later, and i still have moments of inspiration that add huge twists to the story!

3 -- a couple things went into kenjaku's ideology. i agree with you: i loathe and am repulsed by him in canon too, but i wanted to make the main villain have compelling and interesting goals that were genuinely a threat to our heroes. i wanted to incorporate the significance of him having riko's body, and combined with tengen's ability to combine all of humanity by collapsing the barriers between others, i thought there was something insane i could do with that. i was also inspired by nge!

4 -- i think the best part about writing tpg (and fanfiction in general) is having the chance to explore things the author/source material doesn't. i think the jjk verse and many of its characters have amazing potential that just wasn't followed through, so having the chance to expand on that myself has been so fun and rewarding!!

5 -- WAHH PFPK...oh that was a mentally ILL moment i had on a plane once. thought of the major plot points of their arc during one very deranged flight overseas and it snowballed from there. i knew i wanted to add an additional character to the opposing side, but i wasn't particularly drawn to any of the disaster curses. we then learned kashimo had a binding vow with kenjaku in the past in the manga, which i thought could be so interesting to somehow incorporate! given that i love creating unique duos, once i knew i wanted them as part of the story, pairing them with mahito felt natural. i think their dynamic is compelling for many reasons, but what i love so much about them is that mahito is the only one who sees kashimo as more than their strength, and kashimo is the only one who sees mahito as more than a monster. this starts out largely as a negative thing at first, but as they spend more time together and mahito learns the extent of his humanity & hajime learns there's more to life than violence, it develops into a powerful bond unlike any other due to mahito's unique nature as a curse and kashimo as a sorcerer out of time. the only one they could each belong beside is each other

[novemberdevils]

I will be rereading while waiting for puck drop so be prepared for a long rambling session.

But honestly im the happiest person that the calendar is 24 races -purely because I will get more of the masterpiece that you are writing but please guys consider 18 races it’s perfect and enjoyable for everyone and not tiring-, IMOLA MY LOVE so excited for her so I will cherish and love her-imola is my favourite race if you cant tell btw-, the light is here to trick you and us into thinking everything is good but then boom suddenly there is no light and we are just walking blindly with Jack leading us deeper into the tunnel because we followed him thinking he figured it out.

Indy paddock THE most fun place ever, even with the general admission tickets if you are lucky you could meet some drivers who are walking-a fun story time I was wearing merch for stingray and I was walking around with my brother when I saw him and he was like oh let me sign this for you and take a picture I had a GENERAL ADMISSION TICKET f1 could never-, but f1 paddock are so weird like for my birthday my friends and family bought a Ferrari paddock ticket for monza weekend and the place was weird because there were influencers who didn’t even care about f1, when Charles won it I swear to you there were two person who were there who didn’t give a fuck and then there was the rest of us who was jumping up and down and half crying because he won it, and honestly im just waiting for our yearly Alex Palou contract drama; it would never be a silly season without it, but yeah stingray joining JUNCOS is definitely the start of silly season.

I KNEW IT!!! But I thought I was overthinking because like a normal fan who doesn’t watch NASCAR wouldnt know about dalton but I knew it! Please never apologise about taking about Logan he is like my Roman Empire I have followed his entire career and was so sad about his season in f1 and I always always WILL talk about logan and would mention him every opportunity I get-he is my favourite outside of Ferrari drivers-.

Anyways I feel like this would get too long if I rambled about the fic in the same comment so I will be sending another ask with the fic because good god it’s this long and I haven’t even talked about the fic yet in case you still havent somehow realised this but I yap a lot -can you believe that I don’t actually yap a lot in only English because it feels weird to me because its my second language? If I also incorporate my first language I fear that you would hate me, my friends have established a system where I can yap for two hours but then I take a 15 to 20 mins break where I dont talk so I dont ruin my vocal cords-

i am always prepared for a long rambling session. thrilled and riveted

no fr 24 races is so many. both in real life and also in the scope of this goddamn fanfiction... re: i am STILL writing round seven of twenty-four and the fic doc is over 200 pages. which is awesome

imola is great it is a great time it has been running away from me since i started writing it like. almost every scene i write for imola i start with some kind of direction and it all immediately goes out the window and then i'm like. well what the fuck. getting into a lot of uh. non-racing drama. Well. it's all racing related in a way but like. Drama. i've been writing a lot of dialogue for it

i love indycar so bad <3 the one (1) race i went to was so fun i need to go to another one sometime. and yeah i remember seeing people who did not give one fuck about f1 being in the paddock or whatever and i'm like. cool for you but do you even?? care?? i see it less now just on the proxy of i pay less attention to the entire everything of f1 but i did see that carlos and lando went golfing with COLTON HERTA and CONNOR DALY today. which was not on my bingo card. the joys of f1 races in america i think

i was logan sargeant's #1 fan when he was a rookie i got sooo endeared to his stupid american ass it was not even funny omg i could not help but shove in some good old fashioned References since now i'm writing a fic starring an american f1 driver who is also just jack hughes. my bad. i had a twitter mutual who knew me in my loganisms ask if the jack/trevor friendship is supposed to be logan/kyle coded and i was like yeah you got me. my bad. self-indulgent fic continues to be very self-indulgent

i love the yapping. if my answers don't give it away i too am a certified yapper so! thank you for the continued excuses to keep yapping. i love

[earthtooz]

Ramble abt todoroki incoming!

Todoroki who does so much for you and never expects anything in return. Todoroki who’s your best friend, always at your side and supporting you like it’s second nature. Todoroki who is in love with you but it’s not just fleeting romance, he loves you so deeply he’s content even if you don’t love him back. Todoroki who’s devoted to you because you’re his best friend and he’s yours. Todoroki who you’d do anything for. Todoroki who’s held you while you cried, gossiped with you about anything and everything, trusts you to hold him while he cries, to back him up. Todoroki who whispers brutal jokes and quips only loud enough for you to hear. Who tells you all his secrets, and keeps yours. Who’s kind but funny, vicious to protect those he loves but is so soft. Todoroki who everyone knows is a package deal with you because you’re best friends, and you have been for years. So much so that when they tell you to keep a secret they know, Todoroki also knows all their business. Todoroki who loves you so wholly, who’s your ride or die, but is somehow still surprised when you tell him you love him. When even you might be the one to purpose to him.

Todoroki who makes it feel so easy and natural to go from best friends, to someone you know you’ll spend the rest of your life with. Todoroki who has shown you how easy it is to love unconditionally. Todoroki who’d you’d do anything for, and never once doubt he’d do the same. Because being with him is as easy as breathing.

i kept this ask in the inbox bc i wanted to incorporate it into one of my fics for inspo :o but it'll be a while until i find time to write and post something, so rambling abt this now might be more fitting.

but i totally agree!!!!

todoroki shoto is familiar. he is constant. he is stable and most of all, he is an immovable force in your life- not that you want is any other way.

you have loved him during your years at u.a and you will keep loving him, even as you climb the hero ranks together and face new challenges.

you have loved him at the training camp before being ambushed by the- what was then, the league of villains. you have loved him whilst you cried together afterwards as he thanked fate that you were okay because he had heard from his classmates that you were right in the middle of all the action and it took multiple of shoji's arms to hold him back; to prevent todoroki from rushing into the fog-ridden woods to find you and protect you with the heat of his fire and the walls of ice.

you have loved him in the late nights and early mornings shared in the dorms. you have loved him in all the exchanged cups of tea. you have loved him in all the hugs, gossips, whispers, quips about the class and inside jokes that are sacred to no one but you two. he has loved you in return.

he loves that you two are synchronised to this extent. he has loved you in all the moments that when anything remotely shocking or funny happens, you two immediately look at each other with the same expression, communicating through brainwaves. it's almost creepy.

you have loved him whilst interning under endeavour together. todoroki watched as you grew stronger and you, he. the love you shared bloomed right under his father's nose and although the dual-wielder knew he didn't really need his dad's approval on who he liked, he knows he got it regardless.

he has loved you whilst watching you bicker with bakugo and midoriya during the breaks you'd take during the internship, with the glorious, setting sun brushing your face with its golden glory, illuminating your beauty in a way that made todoroki breathless.

you have loved him in the midst of all of his family drama AND trauma. you have loved him as you wiped his tears away, you have loved him wounded and hurt. you have loved him as he shyly crawls to you for the comfort only he can find in you.

he has loved you when you do the same with him, vowing to keep you safe, holding you closer than he does with anyone else.

even if you break his heart, he tells himself to hug you tighter.

he loves you during the rest of your high school lives, all the way until during third year where this love blossoms into something... more stable, final, and beautiful. now officially together, todoroki learns to love you more passionately. this time, he fully devotes himself to you, more than he could during the earlier years that he's spent pining over you.

he loves you when you become a sidekick for a hero you've been looking up to for years, celebrating your successes together. he loves you when you appear on the annual list of top ten heroes and you love him when his name appears on the top three.

you love him when he brings you flowers after his patrol hours. you love him when todoroki asks you to move in to his place. you love him when you see the way he has manoeuvred his space to become your space: he has filled up vases with your favourite bouquets, he has incorporated furniture he knows you like, he put some of your plushies on the couch and even folded your favourite blanket over the couch so it's always there during cuddle time.

you love him during domesticity too. cooking together, cuddling together, cleaning together - just... existing together, this is all pure bliss for todoroki because he loves you.

he loves you in your pajamas, he loves you when you're dressed to the nines for a hero event, he loves you when he watches you float through the ballroom; greeting every hero that approaches gracefully, he loves you when your eyes light up when they meet his and like magnets, you find your way to him.

you love him even when he throws himself in front of you instinctively to protect you during missions, he loves you when you do the same. you love him during the nights he spends at the hospital and he loves you when he does the same. you love him when you wake up with a sore back and neck, sleeping on the guest chair and todoroki loves you when it's the middle of the night and the first thing he sees is your sleeping figure draped over the side of the hospital bed.

the first time this happens, he knows fully that there is not a moment that he doesn't want to spend by your side and every time he gets to wake up to your sleeping face is a blessing that life has provided todoroki shoto.

and here's the thing- you'd do it all over again because being by todoroki's side, supporting todoroki, loving todoroki is as easy as breathing.

it's you and him against the world because you love todoroki shoto and todoroki shoto loves you.

WHEN I SAY THIS IS UNEDITED I SAY THIS IS UNEDITED but literally thank YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS RAMBLE!!!! it literally GAVE ME SO MUCH SEROTONIN AS I WROTE IT!!!! i have never enjoyed reading an inbox message as much as this one and as i kept referring back to what you said, i just- indescribable experience, 10/10!!!! THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU VELVET!

[stars-in-our-oceans]

Scroll past if you dont wanna read my incoherent rambling while brainstorming the FUCK outta this fic

Avatrice au prompt that I also wanna write lol TM TM TM TM TM TM MOTHERFUCKERS

//

Beatrice is a sculpture amongst five artist who were selected to go through a paid internship (paid internships amirite) at the louvre. This internship would allow artist to push their creative bounds outside of all the boxes that may have constricted them in their daily lives.

When they all finished their pieces their predecessors would pick and choose which pieces were “worthy” of being apart of the museum's modern artist showing. Each of the artist who were selected had only a year to finish all of their pieces, but Beatrice finished hers in under 8 months.

Mostly due to the fact that she would stay working until the sunrise because she was a perfectionist but also... she was passionate.

However so was Ava once upon a time, but now all he can do is sit and watch through the lifeless eyes of a statue... [BANGER]

Or

Ava can only sit and watch Beatrice work through one of the paintings in the museum

- So maybe… Sister Francis who’s like the wicked witch, cursed Ava to watch her life pass her by (kinda like an continuation for her time spent in the orphanage as a paraplegic) so like being trapped in a painting/statue, was sister Francis’ way of “sparing her from death.” THIS CAN STILL APPLY IF I PLAN ACCORDINGLY ND SWITCH UP SOME THINGS BEAR (haha pun , im so funny iykyk) WITH ME

- WAIT SO LIKE WHAT IF AVA STILL HAS THE HALO JAMMED IN HER BACK AFTER HAVING ALREADY BEEN KILLED BY SIS FRANCIS (WHICH SISTER KNEW THIS BUT USED HER TO HIDE THE ARTIFACT IN THE PAINTING/SCULPTURE ALONG WITH AVA WITHOUT REALIZING THAT IT WOULD RESURRECT HER LOL) this is kinda contradictory lol

- I was also thinking whichever pieces Ava is “trapped” in or “bound” to, belonged to one of the predecessors that was also selected at one point just like Beatrice. Which obviously makes this person very likely to have had something to do with what happened to Ava. I mean technically the predecessor could have smth to do with what happened to Ava, like this person worked with sister Francis and made the sculpture so she would have somewhere to hide the halo (not anticipating a entire human being apart of the equation but ya know life or whatever 👁️👄👁️)

- Beatrice however does end up finding out about Ava’s situation (SOMEHOW) Beatrice probably things its just sleep deprivation when she sees a singular teardrop fall from the eyes of the statue or like fucking uhhhh???

- Beatrice then is somehow convinced later on that she can break the curse (bc Ava’s smart ass would definitely find a way to fuck w bea) so bea maybe finds out about the existence of another witch (Lilith) to help her break the curse, if shes will lol

- the part im having trouble with is incorporating Lilith into the story because odds are bea doesn’t know about the supernatural 🤩 so like the FUCK would she seek out a random witch for???? Uhhhhh mayhaps Lilith senses the halos energy AFTER it activates and goes to investigate in the museum but also figured thatd draw too much attention, so she finds a way to get a job there.. which is how she comes across BEATRICE HUZZAH 🎉 YALL I JUST FIGURED OUT MY OWN PLOT HOLE IT MIGHT NOT MAKE SENSE TO YALL BUT HELL

- Also, Camila, Yasmin, Mary, Shannon, along with Beatrice are the candidates for the internship. (Camila and Beatrice are roommates) (Shannon and Mary are married and roommates WHAT ARE THE ODDS!!?!??) and YASMINE UHHH lives nearby (bc the internship also paid for housing, and Yasmin didn’t really require the housing still determining whether or not she is a nun)

- so Shannon and Mary were never nuns nor part of the convent, Beatrice is a reformed nun who decided art was more important than her vows (slay sister artist), Camila was getting her masters in cyber security but had always felt her true calling was art and saw this opportunity and took it, and yea I guess Yasmin is still a nun in this au but like of the more chill variety (so in terms of where she stays which is the convent, she was able to get lucky enough to commute back n forth to the museum due to the short distance)

- also Camila decided to either stay late with Beatrice one night/come pick bea up and witnesses the weird aforementioned thing Ava does in the sculpture or painting after being revived by the halo and unlike ya know screaming when she awoke 🥹😖 (god this is somehow sadder than the actual storyline wth imo) she has to silently cry instead out of the sculpture LIKE IN THAT ONE SCENE IN THE SHOW OMFG YOU KNOW THE ONE WHEN AVA AND MARY SLEEP IN THE CHURCH IN THAT ONE TOWN YEAH

- okay… so it is 5am but I am sticking with the sculpture idea bc the fucking teardrop sounds cool lollll like bea sees it, wipes her eyes blinking hard, and Camila is just like 🧍🏻”ayo they done sprung a leak in here???” BUT THIS TIME IT AINT A FUCKING LEAK YO WHAT??!??? CRAZY!???!?

- also yea Lilith DEF a security guard (so she has clearance to being in the museum late at night idc if thats not how it is irl this will be biblically accurate information in my au) and that is how she comes across bea and Camila (ooh woo *winks*) bc you already know im going to have Beatrice use Camila as leverage to steal Lilith’s heart so they can help get Ava outta the sculpture (also Camila and bea are allowed to stay late too yea yea bc they sectioned off apart of the museum for them to work where Ava’s sculpture happened to be hehehe, im scheming, gay scheming, if I may HEHEHEE)

- so like idk what else to add currently bc if el halo is still in Ava’s back when she gets out of the sculpture then she can magically walk again but like not immediately (bc like after she gets out bea, Camila, and Lilith too lol bc she will be the witchy bestie chasing after Camila like a lost puppy , ANYWAYS they realize that they cant just take a freaked out, unstable, Ava to the hospital w/o questions arising bc in this she was declared “missing” from the orphanage, ANYWAYS X2 Sorry I have adhd unmedicated, they take Ava back to bea and cam’s apartment nd call Shannon and Mary bc Mary is a nurse (we love a multi tasking queen) who helps alba and what not. Mary and Shannon come to find out what happened, but also bea and cam let ava stay “secretly” in their apartment so they can figure out wtf to do from there)

- nd like tbh i dont wanna make huge conflict bc ava already been hurt enough but after she gets out of the sculpture she gets to know bea and all that cute shit and gets to experience the life she missed out on, but that would create a plot hole bc if Lilith can sense the halo that means Francis can too (so who knows ava may find out the halo gives her powers and kills Francis by “accident” in this timeline too HAHAH) so maybe Francis sends the predecessor who created the sculpture only to find it shattered

I know this is getting away from the internship aspect of the story (im trying to be consistent bc like bea, cam, and Lilith needed to have a reason to be in the museum that late at night but like if they all worked there thatd be BORING so im improvising but THIS IS JUST BRAINSTORMING) and also kinda overshadowing yasmin (so as much as I love her she may just be a far removed side character reeeee)

- ANOTHA ONE, OKAY SO LIKE WHAT IF BEATRICE FOR SOME UNGODLY REASON HAS A NECKLACE THAT HAS DIVINIUM IN IT STARTS GLOWING AFTER AVA WAKES UP ANYTIME BEA IS NEAR THE SCULPTURE REEEEEEEE (yall the smile on my face bc I feel like I’ve cracked another code, or you could say YOU COULD SAY IVE CONNECTED THE DOTS)

- also like what if mommy- sorry mother 🥸 superion was like the person who overlooked their progress on their pieces, obviously bea is way ahead of everyone else, overachieving bichass [endearingly] 🙄 , but yea LOL

FUCK OKAY TIME TO PUT THIS IN A DOC BC MY HEAD HURTS STARING AT THIS WHITE SCREEN

[bigskydreaming]

Okay, I’m literally just editing and formatting the next chapter of Lightning Crashes right now, so I feel confident enough to say it’ll be up within the next few hours, tonight at the latest. So just giving my eyes a break from that chapter so I can actually finish editing it instead of just reading what I think I wrote (as opposed to what’s actually on the page, lol).

BUT. I know its been forever, so instead of expecting people to reread the whole thing again even if they’re interested in the update, here’s a recap of previous chapters. Spoilers for the fic, obviously, at least up until the current chapter, Chapter 7.

This post contains the breakdowns for Chapters 1-4, Chapters 5 & 6 will be in the next post.

LIGHTNING CRASHES

Scira/ensemble fic

Full AU diverging from the very first scenes of the pilot. Pulls from all seasons of canon, but incorporates characters in new ways (how they’re introduced and such. They still have roughly similar histories to canon, at least as of the timepoint of the pilot).

Summary: Scott ran away not long after being bitten by Peter, to protect his loved ones from the Alpha (and himself). Three years later, in New York, Noshiko Yukimura seeks out the rumored True Alpha and his pack to protect her daughter from an old enemy.

CHAPTER ONE

Noshiko Yukimura goes to a supernatural club called Otherworld, looking for the True Alpha said to work there, along with two of his blue-eyed packmates, Aiden and Malia. She tells them of her daughter, Kira, and an ancient enemy of Noshiko’s called the nogitsune who recently freed himself of the cage she trapped him in seventy years ago. Noshiko wants to hire Scott and his pack to protect Kira when/where she can’t, though she says Kira is still unaware of the supernatural world and Noshiko wishes to keep it that way until she knows if Kira inherited her kitsune nature. Its implied that Noshiko has had other children over the centuries, but none of them were immortal like her.

Fully aware that there’s plenty she isn’t telling them, such as why go to a pack of teenagers when anyone as old as she is has to be well-connected in the supernatural world, she ultimately sells them on the job offer by offering her own resources to help in evading or defeating Kali and Julia/Jennifer and their pack, whom she’s somehow aware Scott and his pack are on the run from.

Noshiko concedes that if Scott needs to tell Kira the truth for her own safety, he should do so but she wishes that to remain a last case option...though she does leave it up to his discretion, whether or not he ultimately feels its necessary.

Before leaving, Scott asks her about the cage she trapped the nogitsune in, where it was and how he got free, and why its not an option this time. She’s vague on the last part, only suggesting that her power is not what it was seventy years ago for reasons she has no intentions of disclosing, but as to the former, she says it was in a town called Beacon Hills, though she doesn’t know how he got loose. Upon Scott’s reaction, Noshiko asks if that means something to him (Scott goes by Delgado since running away and though knowledge of his pack exists within the supernatural world, his place of origin is not common knowledge). Scott says he’s never heard of the town, but Noshiko is fully aware Scott’s lying - she just doesn’t know why.

It leaves all of them on the same page as far as everyone’s trustworthiness is concerned.

After Scott, Malia and Aiden leave, Noshiko lingers to talk to the club’s owner, a large man called Henry, as he closes the door to Otherworld and pulls it from the wall, folding up the supernatural pocket dimension until he reopens it in another location the next night. Its established that Noshiko and Henry knew each other centuries ago, though they haven’t seen each other in a long time. And Henry is not pleased she’s ensnared his favorite bartender in one of her schemes, though he has no idea what she actually came to Scott for. He does seem protective of Scott and his pack though.

Oh, and back when he and a younger Noshiko were running around back in the day, he was better known as Herne the Huntsman, leader of the Wild Hunt.

“So like a True Alpha,” she mused under her breath, though of course he picked up on that as well.

“You sound like you’re speaking from experience.” He narrowed his eyes over a rising frown as he contemplated her. Crossed his arms over his chest, highlighting the twin black bands of a tattoo around one bicep.

“I may have known one or two in my time,” Noshiko admitted. “Its been a long while since the last one I met though. That was…hmm, the sixties, I think?”

“I was told it’d been almost a hundred years since the last one.”

“Such a sweet boy,” she beamed at him. “I meant the 1760s.”

That startled a bark of laughter out of him. Distrust still clung to him like a slowly dispersing fog, but his intrigue was obvious.

“Perhaps we can discuss that as well,” Noshiko said. She tapped the envelope with a red painted fingernail. “I promise, I simply wish to discuss a possible business arrangement. Nothing illegal, nothing immoral. The money is yours whether you accept my offer or not, all I ask is that you hear me out.”

“I’m well acquainted with the owner of this place,” she added when he continued to hesitate. “Herne will vouch for me, and you must know that’s not a claim anyone would make in here if it weren’t absolutely true.”

“You mean Henry,” Scott said.

“Of course I do,” she agreed, and refrained from rolling her eyes at the hulking behemoth eavesdropping in a booth across from the bar. Honestly, what was even the point of hiding his true nature if he insisted on remaining the most conspicuous person in sight at all times? Henry. Absolutely ridiculous.

CHAPTER TWO

Scott, Aiden and Malia take the rooftop highway back to the converted warehouse where their pack lives (they rent the space from a Sidhe landlord who’s impossible to get on the mirror whenever they have a maintenance issue).

The pack - which also includes Ethan, Liam, Brett & his sister Lori, the other girl from their original pack, Carrie...as well as former chimeras Tracy, Josh, Lucas, Corey, Hayden, Beth, Zach, and an OC named Diego, who was born into the Calaveras hunter family before getting bitten and turned on a hunt. 

The original pack was Scott, Malia and the twins...who along with Theo were all abducted and experimented on by the Dread Doctors not long after Scott ran from Beacon Hills. As yet unrevealed events resulted in Scott, Malia and the twins escaping from the Dread Doctors, after Scott (through still untold events/actions) became a True Alpha, which turned his bonds with the other omegas into an actual pack. From there they ended up with Kali and Julia’s pack, before escaping from them along with Carrie, Brett & Lori, survivors of Satomi’s pack which had been attacked by the former. Liam was a runaway they found and added to the pack while searching for the Dread Doctors’ new lair, in an attempt to find and rescue Theo. They never found him, but they did find the chimeras being experimented on: Tracy, Josh, Lucas, Corey, Hayden, Noah, Beth & Zach. Scott gave them each the Bite in order to save them when they started dying from the chimera transplants, and most joined the pack as they were runaways or orphaned by the Dread Doctors (like Tracy). Noah and Hayden were the only two with family to return to....Noah did so, but Hayden was afraid of her sister getting hurt by proximity to her, if she ended up targeted because of her new supernatural nature, and so she stayed with the pack. Diego’s addition to the pack is a still-untold sequence of events. 

There’s plenty of shenanigans to set up the pack’s internal dynamics as Scott checks in on his infant son, Connor, before presenting Noshiko’s offer to the pack as a whole. They debate the situation, its apparent pros and cons, and the ultimate approach: Scott, Malia, Liam and Brett will go undercover at Kira’s school, pretending to be students with the aid of magical charms provided by Noshiko, which should keep attention from being drawn to them as they’re meant to make anyone who meets them believe that they’ve been students there all along.

“So is this bodyguard deal going to be our thing now?” Brett asked, sandwiched between Carrie and Malia. “I could get into that. Suits, dark sunglasses, business cards. We could call ourselves Full Moon Security!”

“Right, because the full moon is when people would be most secure with us,” Ethan said witheringly. Brett flapped a hand at him.

“Whatever, it’s a metaphor.”

“That’s not even remotely what a metaphor is. You’re an idiot.”

Later, when indulging in a frequent ritual of his - checking his mom and Stiles’ social media accounts, Facebooks, etc, in case something’s happened to them - Scott’s shocked to see a notification that Stiles is now dating Cora HALE....and after taking a closer look at the pictures of his friend group these days....himself, Cora, Lydia, Jackson, Danny, Isaac, Erica, Boyd and Allison....he figures out from their in-jokes, his own knowledge of the Hales’ natures, and some of them always keeping their eyes closed in pictures....Stiles and his friends are a pack of sorts themselves.

Worried about what this could mean or imply, along with his concerns knowing the nogitsune escaped from Beacon Hills by unknown means and could have caused considerable devastation there, Scott calls an “Inner Circle” meeting with his original packmates: Malia, Aiden & Ethan. He sends the twins to go to Beacon Hills and see if there’s any sign of the nogitsune & check that his mom, Stiles and the others in his pack are safe. Malia (not exactly thrilled about having to go back to school, and having endured a few too many of Aiden’s jokes about it already) suggests that they go undercover at Beacon Hills High for a few weeks just to make sure.

The twins are less than amused by her contribution to the plan, but they set out the next morning, as Scott, Malia, Liam and Brett prepare to go back to school.

CHAPTER THREE

The morning of Scott, Malia, Liam & Brett’s first day of school, Scott gives Liam a pep talk as the younger boy is worried about going back to a school for the first time in years, and convinced he’s going to ruin everything.

The younger boy was the very picture of misery in his gray slacks, black dress shoes and a button down white shirt. His hair stuck out wildly in all directions thanks to a very haphazard application of hair gel, and the striped crimson and gold tie meant to complete the ensemble was looped around his collar and knotted in a death grip around one hand.

“Ties are stupid,” Liam declared with no shortage of venom. “Can you do it?”

“I tried already, but he didn’t want my help,” Hayden said. She leaned against the doorframe, examining her nails. Beth and Corey poked their heads around her, mouths open in objection, but Scott let his eyes flash red. Their heads popped back out of sight with an audible ‘whoosh.’ Huh. He really needed to just start leading with the alpha eyes thing first.

“You weren’t helping me, you were insulting me.” Liam glared. She shrugged.

“I have a process.”

From there, Scott calls Tracy, Josh & Lucas to the rooftop: with the twins gone & Malia with him at school, he’s leaning on the three next oldest members of the pack more than he usually does - which they have varying feelings about. He has a specific assignment for each of them to undertake at work. Tracy, who works as a hacker for a cybermancer named Tobias (who heads up the network dedicated to keeping the supernatural hidden in New York, and scrubbing all digital traces of anything paranormal) is tasked with seeing if she can retrace Noshiko’s steps in the weeks before she met with Scott. He doesn’t think they were her first choice for this job, and he wants to know who she approached first, and why they turned her down. 

Worried about the possibility of this all blowing up in their faces and needing to get out of town quickly, he asks Josh to try and arrange a contingency exit plan with the sirens he works as hired muscle for down on the docks. With their abilities to enchant and confuse, as well as to summon storms and obscuring fogs, sirens are the go-to smugglers of the supernatural world, at least in New York. 

Lucas works as a bike messenger during the day, delivering artifacts and other magical items and ingredients to members of the supernatural community - many of them older and reclusive...leading Scott to ask him to try and see whom among the older supernaturals of New York might have history with Noshiko and insight they can use. 

After that....its off to school.

“Where’s Malia?”

“She’s coming,” Carrie said. “I would just like to say that its probably in everyone’s best interests to focus very carefully on their self-preservation instincts in the next few minutes.”

Several faces scrunched up in confusion at that, including Scott’s, but then the heady smell of strongly charged defensive anger preceded the werecoyote’s footsteps on the stairs.

All became clear as she came into view.

The black and white laced up shoes appeared at the top of the stairs first, one foot landing angrily, holding for a pregnant pause, then the other striking with equal force. Rinse and repeat.

Then came the white knee-high socks. Then a mere inch of tanned skin before the hem of a red and black plaid skirt, carefully pleated.

The lower edges of the crimson red blazer started well below her waist, gold buttons leading up the length of her torso, flanking the crisp white blouse, fastened all the way up to her neck. Finally her face emerged from the shadows of the upper landing, hair a wild halo around her head.

Her eyes gleamed a cold, dangerous blue as she stomped the rest of the way down the stairs.

Everyone was carefully very quiet.

Then Corey squeaked and shoved a couch pillow into his face, shoulders heaving with silent laughter. Brett’s lips twitched. A muttered ‘better her than me’ came from under Hayden’s breath, and Malia’s scent spiked in a prelude to violence before Scott hastily intervened.

Then from Kira’s POV, we see her meet Scott as a new addition to her chemistry class...or at least that’s what she’s convinced no matter that he insists he’s been there all year...and everyone else seems to believe the same. The charms provided by Noshiko are clearly not working on Kira the way they’re supposed to, and her suspicions are raised from her first encounters with Scott and Malia. They hope Liam and Brett have more luck staying close without making her paranoid - except Kira’s hearing is similarly better than they expect, and she’s on the look-out for this Liam and Brett before she ever meets them.

CHAPTER FOUR

Kira’s POV continues the next day after school - she works as a peer tutor for younger students....and the latest student in need of her help happens to be a sophomore named Liam that she knows she’s never seen before, no matter how many people think he’s not a recent transfer. Half convinced she’s the target of some secret government conspiracy that employs fifteen year olds, her tutoring session doesn’t do much to help her decide one way or the other.

“Umm, all of it,” Liam said, frowning. He perched on the edge of his chair like he was prepared to launch himself to safety in the event of an explosion, and Kira took a discreet look around for men in black suits with tranq guns or sniper rifles.

There’d be no one to see if they were even halfway competent at their jobs, but so far Liam, Scott and Malia weren’t rousing endorsements there. Unless they’d been picked because they seemed so harmless. But as she launched into her tutorial and the hour progressed, she started to think Occam’s Razor might actually be in play here. Sometimes the simplest explanation was the right one. Which meant that sometimes a sophomore not having the most basic understanding of trigonometric principles meant he wasn’t a super young looking secret agent pretending to be clueless, he just really didn’t understand trigonometry.

Because while Kira could believe that shadowy secret agencies spying on high schoolers recruited five foot four agents with no facial hair to pose as sophomores, she couldn’t fathom those agents being sent into the field with absolutely no grasp of trigonometry. It had literally dozens of real world applications.

But then on her way home, she just so happens to be followed down to the subway by another tall stranger in her school uniform. Knowing without a doubt that his name is Brett, Kira causes a scene to leave Brett stuck behind in the crowd while she uses the distraction to hop a different train home.

In the next scene, we explore Tracy’s POV at work as she closes up after her boss Tobias leaves for the day, and works through some angst about her murdered father while tracing Noshiko’s movements through the last several weeks. She finds a potential oddity....a day when street cameras catch her visiting a rundown mansion in the midst of the kind of high-money district where neighbors care too much about the potential impact on their own property values to just let a house in their midst fall into such disrepair....unless something like magic was keeping them away. Watching Noshiko emerge from the house five minutes after she enters it, and clearly not happy, Tracy and Scott conclude this was definitely someone who turned down Noshiko’s earlier attempts to seek help, and Scott decides to have Lucas investigate the house while they’re at school.

Also, Tracy alerts Scott that Hayden’s cop sister Valerie, who they’ve been keeping tabs on as she searches into her sister’s disappearance, has without warning - or any specific reason Tracy can find online - taken time off from work and booked a flight to New York. Almost as if someone told her exactly where to look next for her sister. Scott says he’ll tell Hayden and let her decide what to do next there, and lastly Tracy lets him know someone in Beacon Hills hacked into the high school there’s records to vet the transcripts and paperwork they made up for the twins.

This segues into Danny’s POV, as he’s prodded to dig deeper by Stiles, as Lydia, Jackson, Isaac and Cora ignore their back-and-forth. They’re all talking about the new twins at school, and trying to decide if there’s something to be wary of there. Danny and Lydia are joking/not-joking about potential ways of finding out, when the twins enter the library.

Danny chose to ignore Isaac’s unfortunate delivery of that sentence in order to focus on the more important aspects of it. “Really?” He asked, mouth suddenly dry. Isaac just widened his smirk.

“Danny, no!” Stiles said, aghast. “You can’t date evil.”

“Don’t be such a prudish Quaker woman, Stiles,” Lydia sighed. “Danny’s not thinking about dating him.”

“Also really not sure they’re evil,” Danny said. He leaned back in his chair and cracked his knuckles, reviewing his screen again just to see if he’d overlooked anything. “I’ve gone through everything I can find, and it all checks out. Aiden and Ethan Bishop, age 18, just transferred from North Carolina where their dad was last stationed. He’s in the army, their mom’s deceased, he’s supposed to consult on some defense project in the San Francisco area and he sent them on ahead of him so they’d miss as little school as possible. I mean, it all looks legit.”

Stiles frowned, clearly dissatisfied with this explanation.

“All of you shut up,” Cora said, sitting up straight in her chair. They followed her gaze just in time to see the twins stroll through the library doors. “Speak of the devil…”

“See?” Stiles muttered. “Cora gets that they’re evil.”

Lydia invites them to sit down for a barely-disguised interrogation session, during which Aiden makes the mistake of asking about something they heard about when checking out the school....the disappearance of a student named Mc...something, years earlier?

He’s quickly corrected by a Stiles-with-hostility-amped-to-1000, who informs him that his best friend Scott McCall was murdered, actually. After he takes off to the bathroom, Lydia and Danny explain to a confused Aiden and Ethan the version of events as far as anyone in Beacon Hills knows them - the commonly believed story is that someone once arrested by Scott’s FBI agent father came back for revenge against Rafe. He even filmed a video confession before killing himself. No one in Beacon Hills is aware Scott was at all connected to Peter, who covered tracks to keep the FBI from also involving themselves in his Season One plans for revenge. 

After Scott ran away, Peter took advantage of Jackson’s presence at the video store the night he killed the clerk there, and bit and turned him, using the Alpha bond to manipulate/force Jackson into killing people as his proxy the way he attempted with Scott, and comparable to Jackson’s role as the kanima killing for Matt in canon. In this universe however, Jackson was a werewolf from the jump. He still has blue eyes though, thanks to Peter’s...’tutelage.’ He does not like anyone with the last name Hale and is only a reluctant member of the pack due to a lack of other options and knowing he’s not cut out to be an omega. He doesn’t handle being alone or left out well.

Once the twins leave, Stiles returns and is now fully on board with having Danny and Lydia date them to get close to them. Danny gently confronts him with the fact that Stiles doesn’t cope well, tries to repress and villainizes anyone who makes that impossible. As much as he distrusted the twins from the get-go, the second they mentioned Scott, they were confirmed as the enemy in his eyes. Stiles says that’s not fair, and Danny points out he notices he didn’t say it was untrue.

[dickwheelie]

by popular demand on the discord server, a jonsasha fic! this incorporates a few different requests from the discord buds, but it boils down to: jon and sasha are on a "stakeout" for a statement and jon thinks it's purely for work but sasha is treating it like a date without him realizing.

this was my first time writing jonsasha and I gotta say it was super fun! I'll have to do more with these two in the future. please enjoy!

___________

"Anything yet?" Sasha asked.

Jon's leg had begun to fall asleep, and so he shifted his weight, leaning closer to the windshield. He squinted through the darkness at the doorway across the street, but it was as empty as before. "No, nothing," he said with a sigh.

Sasha shrugged. "Time to dig into the sandwiches, then." She reached into the backseat and retrieved the cooler she'd brought along for their overnight stakeout. It was two in the morning and they'd already gone through a packet of crisps and a candy bar each, as well as a handful of oranges, because Sasha thought they should try to be at least somewhat healthy. Now she pulled out two wrapped sandwiches, which looked like they'd come from Tesco's. She handed Jon the tuna one.

"So you can keep kosher," she said as she unwrapped her ham and cheese.

Jon looked at her in surprise. "Oh, er," he said, "thank you." Usually people forgot.

"Course." Sasha flashed him a smile. She'd been smiling a lot that night; Jon had no idea Sasha enjoyed stakeouts so much. He'd have to invite her to investigate statements more often in the future. He liked seeing her smile; she would scrunch up her nose slightly and it was very cute.

Almost as though she were reading his mind, Sasha said, "Thanks for inviting me out tonight, Jon. This has been fun." She craned her neck towards the passenger's side window. "Even if we're not having much luck. It's nice just to spend time together."

"O-Of course," Jon said. "Thank you for joining me. And for bringing the food." He paused. "And the car."

Sasha laughed. "Least I could do, really."

The truth was, Jon had asked her to join him mostly because Sasha was the best researcher he knew at the Institute, definitely better than himself. It didn't hurt that she was also a good friend, and one of the few people at work who seemed to like Jon. The only other one he could think of was Tim. But Sasha was . . . she was just different, somehow. She understood him, in a way very few people did. Now that he thought about it, not since Georgie had he so thoroughly clicked with someone. He was unaccountably relieved when she'd agreed to join him on what would have been a very lonely and very dull stakeout. Then again, Sasha had never shied away from a chance to do more thorough research.

The passenger's side window nearest to Jon was cracked open, and a sudden draft of night air blew in, making him shiver.

"Oh, are you cold?" Sasha said, and before Jon could answer, she removed the wool jacket she was wearing and placed it around his shoulders. Sasha was about the same height as him, perhaps an inch or two taller, but she was much broader-shouldered, and her jacket was large on him, encompassing him in its sudden warmth. He couldn't help but notice it smelled like her perfume. "Better?" Sasha asked.

Jon felt heat rise to his face, and drew the jacket a bit tighter around him. "Er, yes, much better." He definitely wasn't cold anymore, at least. He looked down at the jacket, running his finger along one of its many tiny enamel pins. He'd never tried to get close enough to look at them all. Now he could see, among others, a trans flag, a pan flag, an anarchist symbol, a pin with a drawing of the globe that said "Give Earth a Chance," and one that just said "int elligent;". He didn't understand that one but he supposed it meant something to somebody.

"I wonder how legal this is," Sasha was saying. "Staking out someone's flat like this. I mean, technically we're not breaking any laws, just sitting here in the car . . ."

Jon nodded. "Considering the kind of stuff I usually do, this is on the lower end of the legally dubious spectrum."

Sasha laughed. "How many carparks have you jumped the fence of again?"

"I believe the last count was six," Jon said, allowing himself a satisfied grin.

"Next time I expect you to invite me along to one of those 'research outings.' "

"Deal," said Jon, and they shook on it.

"Either way," Sasha said, settling back in her seat, "this has definitely been one of the more interesting dates I've been on."

Jon froze in his seat. Date? He had invited her out to help with investigating a statement, not for a date. His mind flashed back over the last three hours. Had he been on a date with Sasha this whole time, without realizing it? Had she not realized that this was a work thing? Oh god, what had he said to her when he'd asked? Had he made it sound like he was asking her out?

"Sasha," he said slowly, mind racing to figure out how best to break the news to her, "I . . . I'm so sorry, but I didn't--"

"Didn't know this was a date?" Sasha didn't seem angry. In fact, she was grinning at him. "I know. When you asked me to join you tonight, I said to myself, Sasha, this is the closest Jon is gonna get to asking you out. You better make it easy for him." She shrugged. "So, I made it a date. Assuming you're okay with that. If not, then it doesn't have to be one. Simple as that."

Jon stared at her, with her bright eyes and expectant smile. She really was very beautiful. He didn't ordinarily notice things like that, about anyone, but now that he was looking for it . . . And what an efficient way to go about things. It would be so much simpler if all dates could be arranged so easily. "Yes," he said, surprising himself at his own words. "That's . . . that's okay. A date is okay."

"You're sure?"

There was a spark of anticipation in his chest. "Yes."

Sasha's face lit up. "Brilliant." She leaned a little closer to him, resting an elbow up on the dashboard. "Is this alright?"

"Is what alright?"

"This." Sasha leaned across the gearshift and kissed him on the cheek.

Jon sat there for a moment, his heart racing. "I--um." He didn't have to give it much thought. "Yes." He leaned towards her. "Do it again?"

Sasha grinned, and pressed her lips to his. They were very soft. He could taste her chapstick, which was coconut flavored. It was wonderful. Her mouth shook under his for a second, as she tried to stifle a laugh. He pulled away, indignant, but Sasha was shaking her head. "I'm not laughing at you. It's just--you're so gentle. You don't have to be all careful with me." She pointed at herself. "It's Sash, remember?"

"I'm sorry," Jon said. "It's . . . been a while."

"Ah, same here. But I don't accept your apology."

Jon cracked a smile. "Can't get anything past you, James."

"No," Sasha said, faux-primly. "You can't." And then she kissed him again, and despite her insistence that he needn't be gentle, Jon melted anyway. Even with the both of them sitting down, Sasha's couple of inches on him were evident, and Jon gladly let her tower over him. He had always been a little self-conscious about his height, and having a partner that was taller than him was extremely welcome.

When they finally pulled apart, Jon said, "You're a genius."

Sasha looked puzzled. "I didn't know I was that good of a kisser."

"Oh, no, that's not--You're a really good kisser, yes, but I meant about the date thing."

"Ohh. That makes more sense. Yes, I am a genius. And a great kisser. Thank you for noticing," said Sasha, and Jon laughed.

The rest of the stakeout was, unfortunately, a bit of a wash. Neither of them spent much time watching the doorway, and they fell asleep on one another's shoulders around three in the morning. As a date, though, Jon would have to say it was a complete success.

[alltooreid]

Dancing With Our Hands Tied

In order to keep Y/N safe from danger, Spencer vows to keep their relationship a complete secret from everyone they know. However, as their romance gets more serious, Y/N and Reid begin to realize that no matter how in love they are, they may have been doomed from the start.

A/N: Back at it with a hopefully very angsty fic! This is of course inspired by the Taylor Swift song, but you don’t need to be familiar with the song to read and enjoy! Also I made a playlist for this one shot, which you can find here (its best if you listen to it in order and of course you don’t have to listen as you read, but if you enjoy that kind of thing, I thought it would be fun). Additionally, in order for the timeline of this fic to make the most sense, I’m choosing to ignore the Lauren Reynolds subplot, because trying to incorporate it and explain it would be distracting and unnecessary in my opinion. Thanks for reading!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

Type: Angst

Word Count: 3.9K

Content Warnings: Some cursing, general fighting angst, discussion of pregnancy, brief mention of abortion (follow up is left intentionally ambiguous, based on your own desires and beliefs you are allowed to decide where that aspect goes (pro choice tings))

“I, I loved you in spite of Deep fears that the world would divide us So, baby, can we dance Oh, through an avalanche?”

Spencer Reid hated funerals. 

Somehow he felt he was always invited to one, and no matter how hard it was for him to be there, he always made every effort to go. So when Hotch had to plan Haley’s funeral, Spencer knew he had to go, no matter how much he would hate it.

He looked down to the grass as his supervisor cried over his now dead wife, the most emotion he had seen from him ever. He refused to look up and watch, although there were at least a hundred people there to mourn Haley, this moment felt innately private to Hotch. Spencer didn’t think it was his place for his eyes to intrude. 

So he stared at the lawn and got lost in his own mind.

Right then and there he realized he never wanted to go through what Hotch had to go through. No matter how many philosophers described love in the most beautiful, enchanting way, Spencer didn’t want it anymore. 

He didn’t want to go through a heartbreak, because how worth it could it be?

Of course, all information he had in his repertoire pointed to the claim that it was worth it. Yet he couldn’t pay attention to Oscar Wilde, trying to tell him that “hearts are made to be broken,” or E. A. Bucchianeri screaming that “grief is the price we pay for love.”

All he could see at that moment was the most stone-faced man he had ever known, breaking down in front of everyone he knew over the woman he loved. 

At that moment Spencer Reid vowed to completely give up on love. He would become the best profiler to ever live. People would compare him to Jason Gideon, but Spencer Reid would win every time. Spencer wouldn’t let himself be like Gideon and get so hung up over a person that he couldn’t ever work anymore.

So when Spencer left the funeral and went to bed that night, he was confident that he would sleep alone like that forever. It was comfortable like that and he was happy. Who needs to be in love?

Not Spencer Reid that’s for sure.

Well, until three months later, when Spencer Reid met Y/N Y/L/N. 

She was beautiful, and Spencer knew he wanted to get to know her the first time he laid eyes on her. 

But he was doing such a good job recently…. Even Hotch was impressed with his work ethic. The only one who had talked to him about his lack of emotion was Penelope, she seemed concerned when Spencer told her he didn’t want to meet let alone go on a date with the cute nerdy barista from her go to coffee shop. Spencer refused to reason with her, he was too focused on proving himself to Hotch and the rest of the team. 

Even though in the back of his mind, Spencer knew he had already proven himself to the rest of the team, now he just needed to be good enough for himself.

A truly impossible task.

But he was still trying to do it, so he didn’t talk to the barista at the new coffee shop he was trying.  

He wasn’t expecting her to try and talk to him. Maybe that’s why he was so willing to give up his own reasoning.  

“That’s a lot of sugar, sugar. Are you as sweet as your coffee?” she said, giggling as she did it. She knew the line was cheesy and stupid but she had been eyeing Spencer Reid since he came in and knew she needed to get his attention. Luckily, he couldn’t help but laugh.

Their first date was right then and there. They got distracted and talked till closing, Y/N’s coworkers noticing she was actually putting herself out there and deciding to pick up her slack so she could continue. 

“So are you going to call me Dr. Reid or were you just leading me on for 3 hours?”

“Of course I’ll call you, how else am I going to get you to watch Doctor Who?”

Y/N smiled, “Well I know this is kind of forward, but I have this art exhibit tomorrow, I would love to see you there. But don’t over think that! I’ve invited pretty much everyone I know. I have a bet to win amongst the other art students, whoever has the most people come to see them wins one of those giant Costco sheet cakes. I need that sheet cake Spencer.”

Spencer smiled, “Well, I am from Vegas . . . Maybe I could help push the odds in your favor.”

“Well I can’t wait to see you there. Tomorrow, 6 pm, I’ll text you the details.”

It was only when he laid down to sleep that Spencer remembered his philosophy on love, but strangely, he did not care. 

He may have been trying to freeze his heart, but Y/N was coming in with a blowtorch.

And he didn’t mind. In fact he unlocked the door to let her in.

So when he arrived at work the next morning, he fully intended on going to her art show. He thought about what flowers to bring her. . . was this a date? Was last night a date? Were roses too strong a message? He couldn’t do anything red, it was too forward. Pink? What if she saw it as stereotypical because she’s a woman, maybe she hates pink?! Yellow Tulips were safe, but if he got her yellow tulips then she would think they were just friends and Spencer didn’t want to be just friends.

His internal debate was interrupted by none other than Penelope Garcia, but not to interrupt their paperwork day with a case, but to make an announcement to the bullpen.

“Hello my loves! I have an interesting idea for some team bonding tonight, my favorite barista and dear friend has invited me to her school art show. Of course she needs the most support humanly possible, so you all need to come with me and look at cool art!”

“Who’s this friend of yours Penelope?” JJ asked.

“Oh Jayge you’ve met Y/N! She’s lovely and I’m sure an incredible artist. You guys will all love her!”

Suddenly Spencer remembered Hotch and his broken down faces at Haley’s funeral. He remembered his philosophy on love and his fear of heartbreak.

But he also remembered how alive he felt with Y/N. How the way she laughed like a little kid and how that made him feel giddy. He remembered how she was always so interested in what he had to say. He remembered that he really liked her.

And at that moment, Spencer realized that he did not have to choose between being in love and keeping his heart safe from the devastating heartbreak of seeing his true love die. He realized that the reaper could only find Haley because Hotch let people know they were together Because everyone knew of Hotch’s wife, she was in constant danger.

Maybe if he kept Y/N secret he could still be with her.

“Spencer! Did you hear me?”

“No, um sorry Garcia what did you say?”

“I asked if you were going to come to Y/N’s art show, you know you too would make such a cute couple! You should totally come.”

“I actually can’t, I’m not feeling well.”

She sighed, “That’s what you said last time I tried to get you two together 187 . . . Do you want to talk about anything Spencer? You haven’t been yourself lately.”

“I’m fine, I just have a headache. I don’t want to go out tonight.”

She rested her hand on his shoulder for a second, before following Morgan to the kitchen. Spencer knew she was going to say something to him, but he didn’t care. He had found the perfect solution to his conundrum.

And he knew exactly what flowers to send to Y/N.

Y/N texted him thirteen times, and waited an extra hour after the open house closed in case he showed. So although she went home empty handed, one person away from enough cake to feed fifty, she received a call from Spencer Reid.

“Hey, where were you tonight? I was looking forward to seeing you.”

“I’m sorry Y/N, something came up, but I have something for you! Are you still there?”

“Oh no, I just got to my apartment. I can send you the address.”

“I’ll be over as soon as I can.”

And five minutes later Spencer was at Y/N’s door, with Chinese take out and white peonies, a flower known for its apologetic symbolism.

Y/N blushed, “You didn’t have to bring me flowers Spencer . . .”

“Well I wanted to bring some to your show, but I figured this could be the next best thing . . . And maybe we could eat some of your Costco sheet cake afterwards. Sounds like a balanced meal to me.”

“Although I love that idea, I unfortunately came home tonight sheet cake-less.”

Reid frowned, “How close were you? Would I have made any difference?”

“Oh no!” Y/N lied, “I was way off, don’t even worry about it.” She smiled, “I’m just excited that you're here right now.”

Spencer blushed and looked down at his feet, “Well I’m excited to be here.”

Four months after that night, Y/N asked Spencer a seemingly stupid question while they were eating take out at her apartment. “Spencer, I love takeout and all but we haven’t gone out in public together since the first time we met. . . Call me stupid but I’m starting to wonder if you don’t want to be seen with me.”

Spencer sighed, “Y/N, it’s not that it’s just . . . complicated.”

“I just don’t get it. Am I the second woman or something?”

“No! Absolutely not! You are my one and only flower,” he said, smiling and then leaning in to kiss her nose. She giggled in response, but quickly remembered the serious nature of their conversation. “Y/N, you know what I do for a living.”

“I don’t understand what that has to do with anything.”

“Not too long ago, my boss was targeted by a serial killer who made it his mission to make his life miserable. In doing so he killed his wife. I just . . .  I don’t want that to happen to you Y/N. I think I’m falling in love with you, and I can’t put you through that.”

“Spencer . . . I love you too.”

So no matter how badly Y/N wanted to tell her family, or update her Facebook status, she respected Spencer, and although she didn’t completely understand his concerns, she wanted him to be happy.

So she spent ten more months like that, catering to Spencer Reid’s peace of mind. Pretending to smile as he told her stories of all the funny things his team members did, all about their partners, and their love lives.

A couple times now, Y/N asked Spencer if she could meet them, but Spencer always shot it down. When he first mentioned the idea of keeping their relationship a secret, Y/N had secretly hoped it would be one of those things that was forgotten about within a week or two. But no. It had been many, many weeks, and Spencer still didn’t want to be seen in public with her.

And by now that was all she wanted. To go on a real date, to introduce him to her friends, to actually be able to tell her coworkers that something did come from that guy she hit it off with.

Everyday, Y/N felt she did the same exact thing, she went to work, would come home and if Spencer was still in Quantico, she would convince him to come over. (They had been dating for over a year now, and Y/N had never been to his apartment. She didn’t even know where it was). If Spencer did come over, he would usually bring some kind of dessert with him, and they would talk and be merry in their own little secret oasis. A couple weeks ago, Y/N started to get this uncomfortable, uneasy feeling that encompassed her whole body, her whole being. Every part of her was trying to tell her that Spencer Reid was not the man for her. And even though she was still very much in love with him, she agreed.

Although she loved Spencer for the person he was, the man who brought her every different flavor of cheesecake from the bakery across town (one a day for fifty nine days straight), the man who begged her to make him a painting for valentines day instead of buying him a present, the man who cried when she did and laughed when she did and-

There were a lot of things to love about Spencer Reid, but there were a lot of things to hate about their relationship.

She hated the time she bought a gold locket in the shape of a heart, and put a picture of them in it so she could keep him with her all day long, and he made her return it because it could fly open and someone could recognize him. She hated the day she came home with a little beige kitten named Betsy and Spencer made her give Betsy to her sister so that he wouldn’t get cat hair on his clothes and have to answer a million questions. She hated the time Spencer missed her birthday weekend because he had a case and couldn’t give an excuse to why he couldn’t go. She hated that Spencer was her entire life, while she seemed like just an inconvenience to his.

And most of all, she hated that she loved him so much. Because deep down she knew that she could never leave Spencer Reid, but she also knew that there was no way they could last if nothing changed.

Just then Spencer knocked on her door, she had offered him his own key many times, but he declined because he didn’t want anyone to see it on his key ring and ask what it was for. She let him in, and right away his fun perky smile dropped. “You’ve been crying. I can tell.”

“Is that the kind of thing they teach you in FBI school?”

“Yes actually, but that’s not the point,” he said, dropping his bouquet of red chrysanthemums on Y/N’s coffee table and grabbing one of her hands with both of his. “Talk to me Y/N.”

She sighed, “I love you Spencer, but I just don’t know if we can do this anymore.”

“What do you mean flower?”

“Spencer we’ve been together for over a year-”

“One year, two months and five days,” he corrected.

“Yes, yes that. We’ve been together for one year, two months and five days but no one except us knows that.”

“Y/N I thought you were okay with that, I just want you to be safe.”

“I thought I was okay with it but,” she paused, afraid of what she wanted to say, “I’m not Spencer, I don’t want to live like this anymore. I love you, and I want to be with you. To really be with you. What happens if we ever get married, do we have to get eloped, would you even let us get married because you need someone else to watch? When do I get to tell my mom I’m in a relationship? What if you get hurt out in the field, and no one has heard of me, let alone knows to call me, and we never get to say goodbye? How far do you plan on taking this?”

Spencer grew flustered, “Um, I- I don’t know? I didn’t know you were even thinking about those things.”

“Do you think about those things? Things like getting married?”

“You’re the love of my life Y/N, of course I do.”

“Well then something needs to change. We can’t live like this anymore.”

“Things will get better Y/N, I promise you, we’ll start small but I’m going to make this better for you. Actually, um we can start right now,” he started digging through his messenger bag. After a minute, he pulled out a smaller gold heart locket than the one you had originally purchased for yourself. “I, um I was going to give it to you for your birthday, but I feel like now is the best time. I couldn’t find the same one, but it’s the same picture inside.”

She teared up, “I love it. It’s perfect. Here, put it on me.” She turned around and pushed her hair to one side so that Spencer could clasp the delicate chain around her neck.

They kissed, and afterward Spencer spoke, “I hate to ruin this moment, but I’ve had to use the bathroom ever since I got here.”

Y/N laughed, “Ok go, I’ll be waiting.”

While waiting for her love to come back, Y/N admired her flowers. Ever since Spencer began to get her different flowers to symbolize different things she had developed an abnormal botany fascination. She would always beat Spencer to explaining the symbolism of her latest bouquet, so she already knew the red chrysanthemum was a symbol of prosperous, passionate love in most countries. However she also knew that in Italy, chrysanthemums were a death flower, given only at funerals.

Part of her couldn’t help but wonder if some unconscious part of Spencer’s genius brain was beginning to feel the same way she did. Three weeks later nothing much had changed in the state of Y/N and Spencer’s romance. She was still unheard of in the eyes of the BAU and two nights prior Spencer had stopped her from calling her mother to tell her about him.

And then Y/N discovered her sick, uneasy, all over body feeling was not just her incredible intuition.

She was pregnant.

She had taken a couple of tests a while prior and could just now get into the doctor to get it confirmed. But it was official. She was pregnant.

As soon as the nurse confirmed it she broke down crying. And when she asked her a couple more questions, she broke down even further. “Are you currently in a relationship?”

“No,” she sniffed.

“Do you know who the father is?”

“I don’t know,” she sobbed.

“Sweetheart, I don’t know where you want to go from here, but there’s a lot more options that you may think. Everything will be okay.”

Y/N still cried the whole way home.

She spent the rest of the day thinking about how to tell Spencer, and then overthinking what he would say.

She knew Spencer loved children, but he couldn’t even manage to tell people she existed, how was he going to explain a long term relationship and a baby?

It would have taken decades for Y/N to prepare to deliver this news, but Spencer showed up at 8:19 pm.

“Hi flower! How are you today?”

“I’m pregnant.” She blurted out, she was not planning to do it exactly like that, but she panicked.

“What?”

“I’m pregnant Spencer.”

He sighed and ran one of his hands through his hair, “You could get an abortion?”

Y/N lost it. “Are you kidding me? Are you fucking kidding me Spencer?”

“I don’t think a baby is going to be very easy to keep a secret Y/N.”

“Is this how far you’re willing to go Spencer? You want to keep me hidden so bad that you want me to get an abortion? Are you insane?”

“You’re right, Y/N, I’m sorry, we’ll figure something out.”

“No, you’re wrong there Spencer. I’ll figure something out.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I can’t do this anymore. I’m done. I love you but, please just get out of my apartment.”

“Y/N please don’t do this, I love you, we can make this work. I know I haven’t been doing the best job for these three weeks, but just give me a little time and I promise we can do this.”

Y/N wiped tears from her eyes, then reached her thumb up to Spencer’s face, wiping his cheek. “Spencer, it’s not a matter of how much I love you or you love me. Sometimes, things just aren’t made to work out. We gave it a good run, but no matter how hard we love each other, I don’t think either of us is happy.”

“But I don’t know how to live in a world without you in it, flower.”

“I’ve never been in your world Spencer, after tonight, nothing in your life will drastically change. You don’t have to worry about living in a universe without me because you’ve already been doing that for 15 months.”

“Please don’t do this, can we just give it another try?”

Y/N wrapped her arms around him, “That’s all we’ve been doing.”

The couple stayed in silence like that for a couple of minutes before Spencer spoke. “Can we just stay here for one night. I can’t believe I never got to do it.” Spencer had never spent the full night at Y/N’s place because he always worried that he would forget to answer his phone and the team would try to come to his apartment to tell him they had a case.

“You know we can’t do that Spencer,” she sighed, knowing she had to stay strong and act on her own best interest, but she also loved Spencer. “But you can stay here, if you want.”

He thought for a moment. “Okay, um do I need that key you always offered me? To lock up when I leave?”

“No, the front door locks automatically when you close it, you just have to make sure you have everything before you go.”

And so Spencer slept in Y/N’s bed, for the first time, without her in it.

And Y/N called the one person she knew Spencer would never try to track her down to to avoid exposing himself.

Penelope Garcia.

She of course let Y/N stay with her for the night, and although she would eventually, Garcia did not pry when Y/N said she didn’t want to talk about what was going on. So Y/N walked to her apartment with peace of mind, she knew that although she had a lot to think about, for the time being everything was going to be just fine.

On the way to Penelope’s apartment, Y/N saw a flower vendor. She couldn’t help but stop by and pick up a bouquet for Penelope, but more so for the symbolic meaning.

Daffodils and daisies.

The flowers of new beginnings.

“I'd kiss you as the lights went out Swaying as the room burned down I'd hold you as the water rushes in If I could dance with you again”

- Thank you for reading! Please reblog and let me know what you think :))

holly’s tiny taglist: @reidingmelodies​ @hercleverboy​

[writing-red]

The Onyx Ring | 6

Draco Malfoy x Reader

Summary: Chapter six of the Silver Letter series. It’s their sixth year, Draco and the reader are placed in an arranged marriage by their pureblood families, expected to follow through they navigate their feelings for each other amongst the many other social pressures at Hogwarts.

Warnings: 

Word Count: 8.2k

A/N: So, I am middle-eastern and I rarely find the opp. in fics for that to fit, and since I talk about family history in this chapter I wanted to make the reader’s ethnicity open ended. Just keep that in mind when the reader’s family history comes up. Also note that I made some changes here and in chp. 5 to incorporate titles because I can ;)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

You spent Wednesday and Thursday holed up with Draco in his room healing. The wounds on your back pertinent and angry; the pain there to remind you of your sins against the family no matter what you did or what you took. Not only that but you knew the scars he left would last, layered atop the old. In order to gain some privacy, Draco had told Narcissa that you’d broken your leg and that you were just waiting on the potion to do its job, it usually took two to three days, so the lie served its purpose, and Narcissa left you both alone in order to allow you to heal. The entire time you virtually didn’t leave Draco’s bed, he’d go to your room if you wanted a book or a particular sweater, although admittedly, you were using the situation as an excuse to wear Draco’s. Zilsey would bring you both food and magically tend to your wounds so that Draco wouldn’t have to risk getting in trouble for using magic outside of school.

Throughout Thursday, you laid in Draco’s arms as he read your classic muggle books aloud to you, although you were keen on forcing him to read your favourite, Pride and Prejudice. Less because you wanted to read it, which you certainly did, but more because you wanted him to read it.

“‘Oh! She is the most beautiful creature I ever beheld! But there is one of her sisters sitting down just behind you, who is very pretty, and I dare say very agreeable. Do let me ask my partner to introduce you.’

‘Which do you mean?’ and turning round he looked for a moment at Elizabeth, till catching her eye, he withdrew his own and coldly said: ‘She is tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me; I am in no humour at present to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted by other men. You had better return to your partner and enjoy her smiles, for you are wasting your time with me.’” Draco paused after reading the section aloud

“Mmm,” you breathed as you looked up at him. “Why have you stopped?”

“Well, doesn’t he know that Elizabeth can hear him? I mean, that’s quite rude,” Draco huffed, and you giggled despite the pain it caused in your ribs.

“Draco, it is just a story,” you smiled, amused by his investment so early into the novel.

“Yes, but Elizabeth is clearly too good for him,” he said, still frustrated with the fictional Mr. Darcy’s actions.

“Merlin, I wonder how she feels,” you teased him, lightly referring to your own situation.

“I wasn’t ever this mean to you,” he huffed.

“Draco, don’t challenge me on this. As you will indeed lose. Now, unless you want such a lecture, I suggest that you continue reading,” you said playfully.

“Is that all I am to you, an audible library?” Draco asked, mocking pain.

“Yes, dear, that is the only reason why I lie here so that I can use you for that deeply, handsome voice of yours.”

“Fine then,” he said as he returned his gaze to the book. “Mr. Bingley followed his advice. Mr. Darcy walked off; and Elizabeth remained with no very cordial feelings toward him.”

“Draco,” you interrupted, your voice plainly displaying that you were not paying attention.

“Yes?” he asked, looking away from the book again.

“Come here,” you muttered as you propped yourself up on your elbows in an attempt to get closer to his lips.

“Are you trying to distract me from Jane Austen with physical affection?” he asked, sounding as you had truly hurt his feelings.

“Just one?” you asked, “Then I will let my library get back to his very important duties.”

“Fine,” he huffed as he leaned down and caught your lips with his. The kiss was warm and pleasant, and it made you forget about your pain for a moment as you were happy to lose yourself in his soft lips. “Is that what you wanted?” He asked after you both pulled away.

“Precisely,” you said, an entirely satisfied smile gracing your face.

“Good,” he said, smirking, but glad to see you in such good spirits considering you spent most of Wednesday in and out of panic attacks and nightmares. It pained him to see you in such a state, yet it comforted him that he was able to be there for you through it.

You lowered yourself back down and laid your head on Draco’s thigh as he cleared his throat and continued reading. “She told the story, however, with great spirit among her friends; for she had a lively, playful disposition, which delighted in anything ridiculous.”

The two of you spent the rest of the day reading, Draco pausing anytime he had questions or a vote of confidence for Elizabeth, becoming increasingly excited by Lizzie and Mr. Darcy’s interactions. While you continuously had to remind him that you did not intend on spoiling the book for him. You found it interesting how things had shifted between the two of you since just yesterday; you didn’t know that you’d had it within you to trust him the way that you suddenly did. You were sure that you would hate him till you were on your deathbed, and you had been determined to push away any feelings for him. Somehow you now found yourself laying in his lap, essentially trusting him with your life, your secrets, and your traumas, essentially handing your heart to him on a golden platter. And you were nervous to go back to school, that the petty drama, secrets, sneaking around, and lies would return to your relationship, but you refused to dwell on that for the time being.

Friday morning, while you were still asleep, Draco snuck out of bed to find his mother, he was determined to protect you from your parents, and after what they did to you, he didn’t want them back in his house. Aside from the wedding, he didn’t want them around you at all. He was sure that if he told his mum the truth about what happened, she would feel the same way. Draco dressed and made his way downstairs to the kitchen, where he knew his mother would be. Since his dad has been in Azkaban, she had stopped eating in the dining room instead, taking her breakfasts early in the kitchen.

“Mother,” Draco greeted as he entered the kitchen.

“Draco dear, how is Y/n’s leg?” Narcissa asked, setting down her copy of the Daily Prophet when she noted her son’s entrance.

“That’s what I was hoping to speak with you about,” he said as he leaned against the kitchen island. “Leave us, elf,” he assumed the traits he was raised to bear easily around his mum, and Zilsey quickly skittered out of the kitchen.

“Is something wrong?” She asked.

“Well, she didn’t break her leg mum, Wednesday when Sir Y/l/n pulled her away from lunch, she didn’t trip and break her leg, her father beat her nearly to death, he used the splitting curse on her, she had nearly bled out by the time I found her,” Draco explained. “Now, I don’t want either of them over again except for the wedding, and even then, I don’t want them having any contact or control over her.”

“Draco, it is not our place to interfere in the way William and Layah choose to discipline their children,” Narcissa said, hiding the pain she felt for her future daughter-in-law with complete neutrality.

“Excuse me? You’ve got to be joking! You should see her back; it’s been ripped to shreds by that bastard, she’s got a bloody scar reaching from her eye to the bottom of her face, and no potion or spell has been able to get rid of it,” exclaimed Draco in anger.

“Draco,” Narcissa warned, her voice remaining low and quiet.

“Don’t do that. Just because you can’t stand up for me when father reprimands me doesn’t mean you have to let the same thing happen to her.”

“Draco,” Narcissa repeated, her voice tighter this time, rising from her seat. “If her parents have decided that she has done something that demands scolding, then they will handle that as they see fit. It is not our place to interfere. And you shall not be referring to your future father-in-law with such language.”

Draco pushed the tears that were pooling in the back of his eyes away, he refused to show such weakness in front of his mother. “How could you simply turn a blind eye to this?” He questioned. When he was met with dead silence, he nodded, “I see, mother, I will be retiring to my room then,” he said, turning to leave.

“Before you go,” she said, stopping her son in his tracks although Draco did not turn to face his mother. “I expect you to propose to Y/n using the family ring tomorrow night as is expected in our families traditions, I believe you have the ring?”

Draco simply nodded in confirmation before striding out of the kitchen.

Narcissa remained standing with her head held high, only collapsing into her seat when she was sure that Draco was half-way back to his room. She pushed all thoughts of the torture you endured at the hands of your parents, her friends, out of her head.

When Draco made his way back to his room, he found you out of bed and nowhere to be found, which he thought to be a bit worrisome.

“Y/n?” He called.

“I’m in your closet,” you called, and he let out a sigh of relief and collapsed onto his bed.

“It sounds like you’re feeling better,” he commented, although you could hear the distress in his voice.

“I am, it still hurts, but it’s nothing I haven’t felt before,” you said as you stepped out of his closet in a perfectly oversized white knit sweater of his and one of your pairs of jeans. “Although it sounds like you have something going on, does it happen to have anything to do with where you disappeared to this morning?”

“I just had a conversation with my mother,” he said as he dropped his head into his hands.

You sat next to him and put a kind hand on his shoulder, “do you want to talk about it, or do you want to go walk around the gardens?”

“Let’s get outside, the sun is out, and it’d be nice to show you around out there,” he said as he met your eyes and matched your smile, trying his best to put his conversation with his mum out of his head.

“Sounds lovely,” you said as you stood up and reached a hand out to him.

Draco took your hand and stood up, but before he really could think about anything, he pulled you into a tight embrace, only knowing that he wanted to hold you as close as he could.

The hug surprised you at first, taking you off guard, but after a moment, you felt yourself melt into his arms, your two bodies fitting perfectly with one another’s as if you were meant to hold one another. He rested his head on your shoulder and continued to hold you, you could feel his desperation, and you swore to yourself that you wouldn’t be the one to let go. Although eventually, he slowly released you, taking a moment to observe you and take in your beauty.

“Ready?” he asked, his voice now somehow lower.

You simply nodded as he took your arm in his and the two of you made your way downstairs and out onto the platform that led out into Malfoy Manor’s extensive and stunning gardens. Despite the beautiful spectacle displayed before you, again, you were affronted by a cold and unnatural thing. The gardens and mazes were filled with the darkest colours nature could serve, and overlooking them were statues of cruel-looking men whom you often found stalking around in the portraits within the manor, and each of their statues was accompanied by snakes and peacocks.

The two of you silently descended into the gardens, and Draco led you into the towering maze.

“I used to run around through here when I was little. I know it like the back of my hand,” he said as he led you down one of the forks in the maze. “I don’t think anyone else in my family knows it so well.”

“It’s intimidating,” you admitted, to which he responded with a nod. “This whole place is.”

“I think they built it like that on purpose,” he admitted, leading you down another twist in the path. “Apparently, the first Lucius of our family acquired the land, and when Queen Elizabeth I rejected his hand in marriage, he retired from court and focused on the building of the manor.”

“My great-grandfather burned any proof that our family ever fraternized with muggles, although I’m sure they were title obsessed back when they could be. However, I do know that our family didn’t come to England until 1889.”

“Our families certainly are interesting,” he said with a certain level of distaste.

Since your first year, Draco had proudly boasted that his family was better than so many others, something you had always despised about him. Therefore, it amused you to see him refer to his family in any way that didn’t display reverence. You would continue with the topic, but you were sure that the trees could hear you.

Draco continued to lead you through the maze until you found yourself in a peaceful little clearing covered in an assortment of small wildflowers, the clearing resembling a small meadow, and with the clouds gone and the sun shining, you found it to be particularly lovely. In the middle lay a blanket, a basket, and a series of foods and teas laid out.

You looked over at Draco once you registered it, “How in the world did you manage this?” You asked in disbelief of what was before you.

“House-elves are pretty crafty, Y/n,” he said, a proud smirk rising to his face, and you shook your head as you laughed.

He led you over to the blanket, where a floor pillow was situated amongst all of the treats. “Draco, this is too much,” you said as he sat down on his own cushion.

“Impossible,” he said, his smirk returning to his face. “Entirely impossible to be ‘too much’ when it comes to you, darling.”

The two of you broke into the expertly prepared food and tea as you continued talking about whatever came to mind, Draco complimenting you at any opportunity he found, about how the sun made your eyes sparkle, how he loved your laugh, and so on; and with every word he spoke to you, you found yourself falling further in love with him. His voice was a perfect melody you wished would never stop playing, his eyes twinkled when you were around, and he just had you absolutely entranced. And what was even better than watching his perfectly crafted hands pour you tea was watching him finally open up to you. For a while now, you had firmly believed that there was something more to him, that he was hiding his real self from you, and now you finally had proof. You planned on talking about it more when you got back to school as you were both afraid that the walls, the trees, and the paintings were listening in on you, but you were excited to see Draco Malfoy turn into the truly good person you knew existed within him. The person that existed out of his parents control.

As you finished eating, Draco placed all of the dishes into the basket before you, exchanging them for your still unfinished copy of Pride and Prejudice. Excited, you laid down with your head in Draco’s lap, basking in the sunlight, which you hadn’t seen since you left school, as he cracked open the book and begun to read. You only had a few chapters left, and you were quite excited for him to reach the end of the novel.

You listened attentively as he read; as always, you were able to refuse yourself the indulgence of listening to him speak, “Her father had most cruelly mortified her, by what he said of Mr. Darcy’s indifference, and she could do nothing but wonder at such a want of penetration, or fear that perhaps, instead of his seeing too little, she might have fancied too much,” Draco read, turning the page and moving on to the next chapter. You cracked a smile, knowing that he would just adore what was to come.

“‘If you will thank me,’ he replied, ‘let it be for yourself alone. That the wish of giving happiness to you might add force to the other inducements which led me on, I shall not attempt to deny. But your family owe me nothing. Much as I respect them, I believe I thought only of you.’” you were excited by the joy and intention Draco was carrying in his voice, almost as if he had read ahead and practised, but when he skipped ahead a line, you knew something was up, “‘You are too generous to trifle with me. If your feelings are still what they were last April, tell me so at once. My affections and wishes are unchanged, but one word from you will silence me on this subject forever.’” Draco read as he delicately placed a silver ring decorated with curving leaves and set with a small amber gem in the centre on the top of your hand, which was resting lazily on Draco’s calf.

In contrast with the warm sun, the cold metal shocked you as you realised that he was using Jane Austen to propose to you. Draco closed the book while keeping his thumb in between the pages as to not lose your place. He looked down at you with a smile that rivalled even the sun.

“My mother is going to make me propose in front of your parents during Christmas dinner,” he admitted as you rose into a sitting position and twisted to face him, immediately making and maintaining eye contact. “I wish we could wait, that we could have more time but, I have fallen too hard for you to allow anyone to force me to propose to you, you don’t deserve it in the least, and this is a moment that our parents shouldn’t be allowed to control.”

You placed the ring between his thumb and forefinger of his right hand and then guided it onto your ring finger on your left hand. “‘Elizabeth, feeling all the more than common awkwardness and anxiety of his situation, now forced herself to speak; and immediately, though not very fluently, gave him to understand that her sentiments had undergone so material a change, since the period to which he alluded, as to make her receive with gratitude and pleasure his present assurances.’” You quoted the passage from memory in response to Draco, and as a way to say yes to his proposal. “Thank you, Draco, and I want you to know that if the situation had been different, I still would have said yes.”

Despite his bright smile, a tear slipped from the platinum-haired boy’s eye, startling you. You really hadn’t ever expected to see Draco Malfoy cry, even a solitary tear.

“Draco, dear, what’s wrong?” you asked as you wiped the tear away with your thumb, leaving your hand to rest on his cheek.

“Y/n, you’re being forced to marry someone who could get you killed,” he said, his voice lowering and becoming melancholy.

You sat up and turned to face him, taking his hands in yours, “It’s the opposite, you’re the one saving me from my parents. I don’t know what you mean,” you said, concerned at his sudden change in demeanour.

“He knows, he knows that I love you, and he’ll kill you if I don’t do what he’s asked me to do,” Draco said, his eyes cast down.

“Who, Draco?”

“Voldemort,” Draco whispered, barely audible. “He’s demanded that I kill Dumbledore by the end of the year in order to make up for my father’s mistakes at the ministry,” he admitted. “And if I don’t do it, he’ll kill you.”

Your eyes widened in shock as you processed what Draco told you, all of Harry’s theories finally making sense. Even more so, all of Draco’s nerves and mood swings over the year finally coming to light, why he had been so hesitant to admit his feelings for you, his possessive nature finally making sense.

“Y/n, you’re so good, such a good person,” he said as another tear slid down his cheek. “You are so much braver than I am. You were able to denounce all of this while I let them turn me into one of them.” You felt the pain in his voice resonate in your chest. “While I terrorised you and your friends, and even now as I plan to murder our headmaster, you continue to find a way to show me more kindness and love than I have ever experienced.”

“Draco, I love you, and you’re wrong. You aren’t them,” you whispered as you gestured to the manor. “If you were, you would have left me to bleed under my father’s boot. You wouldn’t have tried to protect me from him,” you said as you placed your hand on his shoulder. “I know that what you’re doing comes not from a place of evil but from necessity and that all will be right in the end because we will find a way to come out on the right side of the war. I promise that as long as we have one another, things will be okay.” You promised with all sincerity. “Now, the sun is setting, and it’s about to get frigid out here. I say we head back up to your room, and I finish reading Pride and Prejudice to you.”

“I thought that was my job,” he said, the smile slowly returning to his face.

“Well, I think that it is fair of me to want to cheer up my fiancé,” you said, matching his smile.

“Admittedly, I’ve wanted to hear your Mr. Darcy interpretation,” he teased.

“I don’t think it’ll be half as good as yours,” you admitted, glancing down at the ring on your finger, which wasn’t a symbol of the life you were losing but the love you were gaining. “Thank you for this, Draco.”

“Anything for you, my darling,” he said as he reached a hand out to you, which he used to pull you up to your feet and into a kiss in which you melted into Draco. His lips were still warm from the sun and so soft on yours. When he pulled away, you sighed from the loss of touch, yet also in satisfaction.

You collected the remnants of the picnic, along with the book, which suddenly held so much more value in your eyes, and you followed Draco out of the maze and back to the Manor. You were so engrossed in your thoughts and in Draco that you completely forgot about the other residents of the mansion. Although, you were swiftly reminded as when you entered through the large, French style, doors you were affronted by a stoic-faced Narcissa occupying the centre of the room, clearly anticipating your return.

“Good evening, Narcissa,” you greeted warmly.

“Good evening,” she returned coldly. “Glad to see that your leg is better,” she said despite the terrible red scar that now obviously occupied your cheek. “Since tomorrow is Christmas, and essentially our final day together, I have the day planned to the minute. Throughout the morning, we shall be finalizing wedding plans, which require both of your thoughts. Then Draco, you will have time to complete your errand before you return to get ready for Christmas dinner with the Y/l/n’s. Sunday, the two of you will pack and prepare for your return to Hogwarts. We start our day at precisely eight.”

“We will see you at the dining table at eight then,” Draco matched her tone, clearly unfazed by his mother’s sudden coldness, which had uniquely caught you by surprise. This was a side of the woman you hadn’t seen yet.

“Good night, Narcissa,” you said, trying to push aside your shock as Draco pulled you out of the entryway and upstairs to his room.

When you made it inside, Draco closed the door behind you and looked you dead in the eyes, “tomorrow, you don’t get a second of alone time with them. No matter what, I’m by your side.”

“You don’t have to convince me,” you smiled grimly, and he sighed in relief. “Now, lay down, dear. We have a book to finish.”

The two of you cuddled up into one another’s side as you finished reading the book aloud. To your satisfaction, just as you finished the book, Draco started prompting you to softly run your hands through his perfect platinum blonde hair, which in the days without styling or care had begun to curl into soft waves. At some point, you fell asleep with the light still on and your precious copy of Pride and Prejudice open on your lap. Yet, you slept that night without a nightmare or a negative thought, your mind and body entirely at peace wrapped up in Draco’s arms.

You awoke to bright morning light flooding into the room, which startled you as you still felt Draco by your side. You slowly drew yourself up and looked over to see Alexis, your wedding planner standing by your bed, assuming it had been her who had opened the curtains.

“Alexis?” You asked groggily, confused by her presence in your fiancé’s room. “Why aren’t you home? It’s Christmas.”

“Lady Malfoy asked me here,” she said. “She also asked me to retrieve you, miss, as well as Master Malfoy.”

You nodded, “we’ll get dressed and be down shortly.”

She responded with a bow of her head, then she swept out of the room, closing the door fast behind her.

“What in the world was that about?” Draco groaned, eyes still closed.

“Your mother sent the bloody wedding planner up here to wake us,” you said, in complete disbelief of Narcissa’s decision to do so.

“Mm-alright,” he said as he sat up, kissing you on the cheek before sliding out of bed.

“I’m going to slip into my room and grab a dress,” you said as you stretched out your arms before standing.

“Alright, darling,” Draco said as he disappeared into his closet to get dressed himself.

The two of you got ready relatively quickly, donning appropriately formal clothing and descended downstairs and into the dining room together, where Narcissa and Alexis were already talking, papers, linen samples, and photographs spread out amongst tea, fruits, and other miscellaneous breakfast items.

“Good morning,” you greeted as a polite way to announce your arrival.

“Oh, good, we’ve been waiting for you two,” Narcissa said, looking up as you entered the dining room. “Sit, we have a lot to get through.” While she wasn’t as cold as she was last night, she wasn’t the same kind motherly woman who had offered you her dress for your wedding.

You and Draco assumed seats next to each other as Narcissa occupied the head of the table and Alexis sat across from you. Immediately, you were bombarded with questions, confirmations that Draco liked the choices you had made last week, ornate changes Narcissa recommended, and series more decisions you had never considered went into wedding planning. Occasionally, you would lean over to Draco and whisper some joke or terrible comment into his ear, and he would have to stifle his laughter which inherently bothered both Alexis and Narcissa as they were suddenly convinced that neither of you was taking this seriously. As afternoon approached Narcissa dismissed Draco, much to your dismay you were left alone with the two women who buckled down on you the second he was gone.

Eventually, Narcissa dismissed you and Alexis, allowing you to go and change and for Alexis to finally make her way home. Although, you were convinced that she didn’t care about that, instead sticking to her oh-so-important schedule. You made your way up to your room, Draco nowhere to be seen, you slipped into your room where you found the black gown your mother had packed for this exact occasion; it even had a note on it that read, ‘wear for Christmas dinner.’ Not in any particular mood to disobey, you donned the dress. While it did not come with a corset, it was quite tight and held your core in as if it were one. After dressing, you sat in front of the vanity to don the face that would get you through the night. Despite the time you took on your hair and makeup, hoping you would waste enough time so Draco would be ready and you wouldn’t have to face whatever was downstairs alone. However, when you made your way down, you found both the entrance hall and the few sitting rooms to be empty, leaving you to admire the decorations that had gone up in the last hour you had been spending getting ready. Classical music was drifting through the first floor, and the decorations which were already there had been accompanied by more lavish ornaments circled throughout the space, which was almost entirely lit by warm candle-light. Had the manor not been another prison for you, you may have some capacity for admiration of its beauty.

“Oh, well, hello there,” you heard the sharp and twisted voice you hadn’t heard since the battle in the Department of Mysteries.

In response, you shot around to see Draco standing next to his Aunt Bellatrix Lestrange as they were standing in the entryway before you. “Lady Lestrange,” you said, bowing your head respectfully.

“Draco, this is the girl?” she asked her nephew as she crept towards you.

“Yes, Aunt Bellatrix, this is her, Y/n Y/l/n,” he spoke formally.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, ma’am. I’ve been told that you’re a great witch,” you said, your head still bowed. To say that Lestrange intimidated you was a grand understatement.

“Enough flattery, girl, it will get you nowhere,” she said as she circled you, inspecting you.

“Bella,” Narcissa greeted warmly as she descended the stairs into the hall.

“Cissy,” Bellatrix responded, turning away from you to greet her sister.

You used the opportunity to make your way to Draco’s side, Bellatrix’s appearance at the dinner, both shocking and nerve-racking. Having to deal with your parents was one thing; Bellatrix Lestrange was a whole other beast.

“Watch your mind,” Draco muttered in your ear as he snaked an arm around your waist, pulling you into his side. “She’s a powerful Occlmens.”

You nodded in response, watching as the sisters greeted each other. “How were your errands?” You asked.

“Fine, we can talk about them later.”

“What are we waiting for?” Bellatrix asked her sister, clearly unaware of the plans for the evening.

“The Y/l/n’s, Y/n’s parents are set to arrive in a matter of moments,” Narcissa said. “Then it will just be the six of us, an intimate affair.”

Perfect timing as always, your parents popped into the room through the grand fireplace, green smoke billowing around their feet.

“Hello, Narcissa, Bellatrix,” your father greeted the two witches. “Happy Christmas.”

“Yes, Happy Christmas, William,” Narcissa greeted, her warmth and kindness suddenly flooding back.

“Bellatrix, oh, I haven’t seen you since the summer. How have you been?” Your mother greeted.

“I have been quite well, Layah,” Bellatrix said, a note of sadism to her voice. “Lovely to see you both.”

“Let us make our way to the sitting room. I know we have quite a bit to discuss,” Narcissa said as she eyed Draco, likely referring to the proposal he was meant to make.

Everyone followed Narcissa into the sitting room, sifting out to where they were meant to sit. You and Draco on a loveseat near the Christmas tree, Bellatrix and Narcissa sitting on armchairs adjacent to one another, and your mother and father on a couch together. As you all situated yourselves flutes of champagne appeared at everyone’s side.

“Now, Narcissa I know you said that we weren’t focusing on gifts,” your father spoke up. “But I was thinking, and since Draco is to be my son-in-law, I thought it would be appropriate for me to give him this.” William rose and crossed over to where the two of you were sitting to hand Draco a long, elegantly wrapped, box.

“Thank you, sir,” Draco said, accepting the box.

“Go ahead and open it,” your father said jovially as he returned to his seat.

Draco split the wrapping along the seam, leaving a black jewellery box, opening it he revealed a silver wizard’s watch, the one your father had given to William for his seventeenth birthday. You swallowed your shock, refusing to show the pain that echoed in your heart on your face. Yet, you weren’t surprised at your father using Draco as a replacement for what he killed.

“Thank you, sir. It’ll be an honour to wear this.”

William beamed, twisting his face into a nasty smile, “I’m glad you think so, boy.”

“How kind of you, William,” Narcissa piped.

“Actually,” you chimed in. “While Draco and I were out last week, I picked this up for you. It’s small, but I thought it’d be nice for you to have them for the wedding.” You made your way across the room to hand Narcissa the impeccably wrapped, tiffany blue box. “And Draco got something for you as well, mother,” you said, then walking to her to hand her the black velvet jewellery box.

“Darling, you didn’t have to do this,” Narcissa smiled kindly as she opened the box.

You returned to your spot next to Draco, taking his hand in yours.

Narcissa pulled out the drop pearl earrings, the smile remaining on her face. “Y/n, this is so sweet, thank you.”

“I’m so glad you like them,” you said, returning her smile.

Layah opened her gift, revealing a fine diamond and emerald decorated bracelet that fit into her jewellery collection well. “Draco, this was quite thoughtful of you,” she said, her lack of gratitude bothering you.

“You’re welcome, ma’am,” he said, nodding his head.

“Well, this is quite boring, isn’t it?” Bellatrix chimed in. “It’s a bit of a drag.”

“Is that because no one got you a gift, ma’am?” you asked sarcastically, quickly taking on the ‘ma’am’ as you noticed the gravity of you using such humour in that room.

Silence fell upon everyone in the room, and you could feel your parents sharp glare fall upon you instructing you that you had made a-

A shrill laugh erupted from Bellatrix’s throat, interrupting the concern that fell upon your shoulders, “Oh, maybe I underestimated you, seems you’re not so boring after all,” she said, then continued to giggle, causing Narcissa and your parents to join in with uncomfortable chuckles and false smiles.

“I’m glad you think so,” Draco said, standing up from his spot next to you. “If no one minds I would like to steal this moment to do something quite important.” Once he received looks or nods of recognition Draco turned to face you, bending down onto one knee, he looked up at you and knowing that only you could see his face he shared a bright, kind smile you had only seen when the two of you had been alone. “Y/n Y/m/n Y/l/n, throughout our years of knowing each other, growing up with one another, attending school together I only ever imagined a life with you. When my mother informed me of our arrangement I was overcome with delight at the prospect of joining hands with another great Wizarding family,” You were not surprised by the loveless and prideful nature of the proposal, this was not for you, it was for your father and for his mother. Draco pulled out a ring, something dark, ornate, and clearly ancient. “Now, it is with great admiration for you and your family that I ask you to be my wife,” he said, looking up at you expectedly.

“It would be my honour to uphold the noble name of Malfoy, and therefore the name of Y/l/n, through becoming your wife,” you said, the acceptance taught to you, forced down your throat, word for word by your mother. While you accepted, Draco slipped the engagement ring onto your bare ring finger, the one he had given you yesterday residing on the opposite hand for the time being. As he did so light, polite applause filled the room.

“The two of you do make a handsome couple,” Narcissa smiled, and you couldn’t tell whether or not the curving of her lips was genuine.

“Absolutely,” your mother hissed. “Draco, we are pleased to be inviting you into the family.”

Accolades for Draco, for you, and for the two of you as a couple continued on until dinner was announced. Dinner itself droned on for hours, and drinks afterwards droned on for hours, you felt as if you were a puddle by the time the evening was over. As usual, you spent most of the night silently observing those around you, although Bellatrix would occasionally drag you into conversation in an attempt to read you. The dinner was like the lunch before and the dinner before that, and every, single, individual, societal event you had attended in your life. You yearned to return to Draco’s room fall into his arms and shed the night, the terrible forced proposal, and the stank of society from your shoulders. Eventually and thankfully you did, both of you quick to wish ‘Happy Christmas’ and ‘Goodnight’ to your parents as well as his mother and aunt. Then, of course, swiftly retreating to Draco’s bedroom. Both of you exhausted trading the confining clothing you wore throughout the evening for sweaters and pyjama pants, then collapsing onto the mattress and into one another’s arms.

The next morning you awoke first to find Draco’s arm draped over your torso, and his face nuzzled into your neck. You smiled, happy to see him so peaceful, and terribly sad that you would have to disturb that peace. You slowly started running your hands through his wavy platinum blonde hair, taking in how handsome he looked as he slept.

“Merlin, it’s Sunday, isn’t it?” Draco asked.

“Yes, darling, it is.”

Draco emitted a pained groan and curled his arms around you to pull you tightly into him, “that means I won’t get to hold you like this ‘till June.”

You giggled at his pain, “I’m sure we will find a way, Draco.”

“You know, this is the worst thing about you being a Gryffindor,” he said with distaste. “If you were a Slytherin we wouldn’t have this issue.”

A pleasant smile rested on your face, “Draco, we wouldn’t have this issue if you were a Gryffindor,” you countered.

“As if, Y/n,” he scoffed, you laughed again, and Draco was sure that your laugh could rival the brightness of the sun. He drew away from only for a second so that he could kiss you and experience that brightness for himself. The kiss lasted for a blissful moment before he pulled away to take you in for just a moment.

“You’re beautiful, Y/n,” he said, brushing a piece of hair out of your face.

You smiled up at him, “you’re too nice, Draco.”

“I am the complete opposite,” he countered and your smile widened.

“Come now, we have to get you packed,” you said, gesturing to his closet.

“Y/n, that sounds miserable,” he lamented.

“Darling, as badly as I want to lay in bed with you all day, I also wish to return to school.”

“Fine,” he said, dramatic as ever. “But only because I love you.”

“Thank you,” you said as you planted a swift kiss on his cheek before rolling out of the bed.

It didn’t take you long to get your things together since you didn’t bring much and because most of your things were staying at the Manor considering you were essentially moving in. When you finished, you helped Draco pack his things up, and you were sure to include some of his sweaters which you had come to love so much. After you were both done, you made your way downstairs where Narcissa was waiting.

You stood in front of the fireplace, excited to finally be leaving the terribly dark home. “Narcissa thank you again for having me. I am truly excited to return for summer,” you lied through your teeth, doing your best to make the statement as believable as possible. At the end of the term, you would go to your home for a day in order to pack up whatever you wanted to bring along with you to your new life. From then on you would reside at Malfoy Manor, at the very least until the end of the war, then it would be expected for you and Draco to live alone until Lucius handed the Manor over to his son. Unless of course, the war turned against Voldemort’s favour.

“Y/n, it was lovely getting to know you. I am incredibly excited for the wedding,” she responded and you smiled. 

“So am I ma’am, and thank you for including me in so much of the planning.”

Narcissa nodded, a tight smile on her lips.

“Well, you two have a good semester, and Draco, please write,” she said as she brushed her son’s shoulder as many mother’s do.

“Of course, mother,” he said before turning to you. “Y/n, would you like to go first?”

You nodded, “thank you again, Narcissa.” And with that, you stepped into the fireplace with floo powder in hand, “Hogwarts!” You shouted clearly, disappearing in a green cloud with Draco not far behind.

To your surprise, you found yourself in Professor McGonagall’s office. You quickly became aware of your surroundings, and dusted the powder off of your jeans before stepping out of her fireplace and onto her carpet. “Hello Professor, I hope you had a happy holiday.”

“Thank you, Miss. Y/l/n, it was nice, quiet without Mr. Potter around to stir the pot,” she said as she looked up, a warm smile on her face.

“Well he is known for that, isn’t he,” you conceded, knowing you were often a part of the trouble.

“Dear, Y/n, your face, what happened?” McGonagall’s face twisting into concern as she noticed the still fresh raised red scar reaching across your face.

“Oh,” you raised a hand to touch the scar, having forgotten to come up with an excuse for the visibly wound. “Just a freak cooking accident, it seems I-I manage just as much trouble when I’m home as when I’m here,” you said, adding a fake laugh to try and convince her that all was fine, although you were sure she could read right through you.

“Y/n, if you need anything,” she said, her eyes falling on the engagement ring on your finger. “Please feel free to speak to me.”

“Thank you, Professor, I’m going to go unpack now,” you said, wanting desperately to get out of the awkward situation.

“Of course,” she said. “I’ll see you in class Tuesday.”

You nodded, and swiftly left her office, making your way to the Gryffindor common room in the hopes of finding Harry, Ron, and Hermione, knowing you had a lot to explain. When you got to the common room, you were disappointed to discover that you were the first to arrive. You sufficed yourself to grabbing some food in the Great Hall, figuring if anyone was looking for you that would be an easy place to find you. However, your journey downstairs was swiftly interrupted.

“Y/N!” You heard Harry’s voice, and you turned around, excited to see your friend.

“Bloody hell, Y/n, what happened to your face?” Ron asked as you turned to face them.

“Seriously, Ronald?” Ginny scolded her brother.

“No, it’s fine, it was just my father,” you explained. The three of them knew plenty about your parent’s abuse.

“Merlin, he’s never-” Harry started, but you cut him off.

“I know, I’d really rather not get into it, it’s not like it’s a happy memory.”

“Yeah, of course,” he said, scratching the back of his head, unsure of what to say.

“Holy shit! Y/n is that an engagement ring?!” Ginny exclaimed, rushing over to you and grabbing your left hand to examine your ring finger.

“Why don’t we go to the common room and we’ll talk about the holiday there,” you said firmly, uncomfortable having this conversation in the middle of a hallway.

“That's probably a good idea,” Harry said, and the four of you made your way back towards the common room, and for extra precaution, you went up to the boy’s dorm which was empty, and thankfully didn’t smell as it often did since the boys hadn’t had the opportunity to stink it up just yet.

“So, how was Malfoy Manor?” Ginny asked teasingly as you all found places to sit around the room, you and Ginny taking Harry’s bed; mutually refusing to trust Ron’s.

“Well to make a long story short, the scar was caused by my father finding our letters, and according to tradition, Draco had to propose to me with our families present, and with his family ring. So, they had him propose last night,” you explained. “Malfoy Manor is a terrifying place, but I have been before,” you thought, and you knew you couldn’t just say that Draco was assigned by Voldemort to murder Dumbledore which is why he had been acting so weird, but you weren’t sure otherwise how to explain to your friends why Draco acts the way he does, and that he really is a good guy.

“What did Malfoy tell your dad about the letters?” Ron scoffed.

“No, of course, he didn’t,” you bit. “My father just spies on me. Draco is actually the reason my father didn’t end up killing me, and he really isn’t such a bad guy.”

“I’m sorry, but there is no way we are talking about the same guy who terrorised us at dinner and announced to the entire school that you were snogging Harry just a few weeks ago,” Ginny countered, and Harry’s face turned beet red.

“We’re talking about Malfoy, I presume?” Hermione asked as she entered the room.

“Hermione!” you greeted her warmly, excited to see her.

“Hello everyone,” she said as she assumed a seat near you. “So, what did I miss?”

Ginny quickly summarised the conversation thus-far, "And I don’t trust Malfoy in the least,” she said, shooting you an irritated look.

“Well I do, and considering it is my life I have no control over, I think that I get to at least decide whether or not I trust him. Anyways he’s proved himself over the holiday, and that’s all that matters, eh?”

“I still think you’re marrying a Death-Eater,” Harry said, confident in his accusation, which you of course knew was correct.

“And what if I am?” you asked. “Harry I am also the child of Death-Eater’s. Not only that, but my parents made it very clear that if I don’t marry him, I’m dead. And wouldn't you rather, when this war happens you have someone on the inside with your interest at heart? Harry I would rather die fighting for a cause than fighting myself.”

Everyone paused for a moment, it was oftentimes easy to forget the gravity of the situation you were all in, but your words made your friends conscious of everything for a moment.

“You all know where I stand,” you said, your eyes were watering, but your voice was firm. “And I intend on fighting with you; I just won’t be able to do so by your side. I assume you already knew that.”

“We just always hoped it would somehow turn out differently, Y/n,” Hermione said honestly. “But of course we understand.”

“Then you’ll also understand that this is likely my last term at Hogwarts,” you said, your voice lower this time.

“Yes,” Harry said quietly.

“So you’ll understand why I want this conversation to end and why I just want to spend time with my friends?” You asked as a tear dripped down your cheek.

Ginny wrapped you in a hug, Hermione quickly joining in, and you wiped the tear from your face. “We love you,” Ginny muttered, and you squeezed her tightly in response.

“What are you two doing over there?” Hermione chided Ron and Harry, ignoring her own tears. “Get over here and join the bloody hug!”

The boys both shook their heads, trying their best to push back their own emotions and joining the three of you in the hug which was quickly turning into a dog pile.

“Anyways, Draco is on our side,” you breathed.

-

Part 7 - Coming Soon

Tags!

Everything - @sarcasticallywitty15 @fred-love-bot

Silver Letter - @hidejeon​​ @Ravenclawgurl137 @unexpectedly-slytherin @missmercurymoon @herequeerandstressed @lordfxxker@pillowjj@pointlesscoconut @lovelylangdonx @fire-in-her-veinz​ @morelovemorepeacemoretattoo-blog @oi-itsemily@lukehemmingslut831 @peachybeannn @lovebynorth@bubblesam06@voidnarnia @bethii1 @arthemis-o-negative@roseyrams@treestarrrrrrrr @streetfighterrichie @dreams-in-blxck​ @psychramt​​ @dracofeltonmalfoy @weasleydream​ @rottenhexrt@daringvixon @thatguppienamedbae @lord-byron

[eldritchqueerture]

Point of View - Original Statement Fic

Point of View (5004 words) by LadyNikita Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Original Statement Giver(s) (The Magnus Archives) Additional Tags: Statement Fic (The Magnus Archives), Original Statement (The Magnus Archives), this was intended as the eye but evolved into the vast as well, happens, cosmic horror, attempt at Eldritch Madness, unreality, Discussions of pointlessness and meaninglessness, Canon-Typical The Vast Content (The Magnus Archives), from the eps about space, Mentions of Death, Compulsion, discussions of free will (kind of), Dissociation, Panic, Mentions of addiction, Leitner Book (The Magnus Archives), except it was not possessed by Leitner, Pretty Colours <3, Neurodivergent Protagonist, Queer Protagonist, because I can project a bit as a treat, Can Be Read Without Prior Knowledge of the Podcast (I think)

Summary: "Humans crave understanding. They strive towards knowing more and more, that’s what all science is about, isn’t it? To study, to learn and understand; to seek answers to questions. But are we really equipped to handle the answers we seek? Even if we were able to reach them, are our minds advanced enough to grasp the truths about the world we live in? What if there are things just beyond our understanding, lurking in the shadows of reality, peeking into our world just enough to feed on us, on our uncertainty and our pathetic scrambling towards answers that would only bring madness?" --- Statement of Lyria Ellison regarding a different point of view and the dangers of knowledge.

Notes: Hiiiiii <3 I've been reading Lovecraft recently and as much as I hate the dude, The Colour Out of Space gave me so much inspiration that I immediately sat down and produced this in one sitting. I've been meaning to play with the concept of eldritch madness for a while; something about this trope is really appealing to me and I'm really enjoying my attempts at shaping it with words. Lyria is a preexisting OC of mine, I will give some background on her in the end notes because I love her very much. This is a form of practice for me; I'm playing with horror themes and I'd like to get acquainted with them to better incorporate them into my overall writing. Therefore I will accept constructive criticism if anyone wants to give it, but only in the form of DMs, either on Tumblr (your-queer-vampire-dm) or on Discord, if we know each other through a server. All of the warnings I think should be mentioned are in the tags, but if you think something should be added then please tell me!

Date: May 10th , 2018

Name: Lyria Ellison

Subject of experience: A different point of view and the dangers of knowledge.

—

How do you start telling a story that changed your heart, your mind, and your soul so profoundly that you can barely still function in a society? How do you say all that without sounding borderline insane? Nobody knows what I’ve seen, what I’ve been through. I know they would all say I’ve hallucinated it all and should seek treatment. But I know it won’t help. I know… I know so much now. Too much and not enough. Never enough. I know what happened was real . I don’t have proof so I’m guessing you won’t believe me either, but I need to tell someone about it. So I might as well tell you.

My name is Lyria Ellison and I’m a neuropsychology major. Ex-major, I should say. I dropped out after… Yeah. I dropped out; there’s not much point in continuing studying things about the feeble, insignificant human brain. Utterly pointless venture.

Humans crave understanding. They strive towards knowing more and more, that’s what all science is about, isn’t it? To study, to learn and understand; to seek answers to questions. But are we really equipped to handle the answers we seek? Even if we were able to reach them, are our minds advanced enough to grasp the truths about the world we live in? What if there are things just beyond our understanding, lurking in the shadows of reality, peeking into our world just enough to feed on us, on our uncertainty and our pathetic scrambling towards answers that would only bring madness?

Just a year ago, I was convinced I was going to finish my degree. I was so passionate about it too, eager to learn more and more, to research and seek knowledge. Curious and fascinated by the world around us. What a foolish thing it was to give into that drive. My mind was open to the supernatural, although I always approached it scientifically; I never said the supernatural existed, but I also never said it didn’t. It was plausible; all in all, every scientist must accept that there is still a vast amount of knowledge we don’t have about the world.

The ignorance was a blessing. But I shall not get ahead of myself.

It started around December last year; my dad had died, and my girlfriend, Shawala, and I were clearing out his house. There wasn’t really anyone else to do it; my mother had passed a couple years prior, I had no siblings, and extended family was out of the picture as well; and my dad had gathered a lot of things in his adventurous life; he was a traveller, and he loved the world, loved learning about it, just like me. I was feeling pretty overwhelmed with it all; my dad meant a lot to me back then, and Shawala proved an excellent support at that first shock. She promised to do some first view assessments of the ground floor, while I went to scope out how things looked in the attic.

It’s always either basements or attics, isn’t it? I used to read horror, Lovecraftian was my favourite – how ironic, isn’t it? How stupid . How utterly ignorant. The hubris of the human race at its finest.

Anyways, the attic was half-lit from the small windows in the roof, and dust was swirling in the faint light of the afternoon sun. It was cold here, but I didn’t pay much mind; the house was old, and it wasn’t surprising that there was draft. To say the space was cluttered would be an understatement; I could barely walk around the numerous boxes, old furniture, crates, and overflowing bookshelves; all of which made something in my chest curl tight, bringing tears to my eyes. I steered my steps towards the nearest bookshelf; I’ve always been a bookworm, fascinated by nearly any tome I came across; I’ve been reading popular science books since I was eight. So naturally, I was drawn to the books, taking huge steps above the cardboard boxes and careful not to hit anything else.

The books were old, of course, and dusty. Some of them had loose pages, and I treated them very gently, almost reverently. I have a little bit of a bookbinder streak, and I decided I would take them home and try to put them back together. As I rifled through them, I saw they pertained to a vast variety of subjects, from poetry, drama, and history, to science, metaphysics, and maths. The deeper I looked into this stunning collection, the more reverence rose in my heart; at my fingertips I had the oldest and the biggest accumulation of knowledge I had ever seen. I saw some books dated back even two hundred years ago.

At that point Shawala called me to check if I was alright. I put the book I had in my hands back and my knuckles brushed against the black leather cover of the next one on the shelf. I felt pleasant tingling in my palm at the touch and my heart leaped at the prospect; I didn’t know why –  the book seemed ordinary enough on the shelf and there was no title on its spine.

I sometimes wonder if I could have just left it there and gone downstairs; chosen to come back later and then maybe, it wouldn’t have enticed me as it did. If, by that point, I had had any choice left on the matter.

Alas, intrigued by the book, I placed my palm on the spine and took it out. The leather was soft and smooth, probably sheep, with familiar subtle grains all over the texture. I remember it striked me as odd that it was warmer than the rest of the books in the drafty attic, but I shrugged it off. The front cover had a title, small but visible in the centre, etched in gold – Punctum Visus .

I, by all means, cannot read or speak Latin, but I figured it was something to do with vision. I opened the book, an unknown anticipation buzzing in my stomach. The pages were worn and old, their texture was slightly rough but pleasant under my fingertips; as I opened the front page, I saw the title again, this time in thick but still elegant, black letters, and the smell came up to my nostrils.

I tried to describe it in my head countless times after. I always loved the smell of old books, and I knew it very well, so it came to me as a surprise to realize it wasn’t the only smell I could feel from the book. It was… cold, somehow, distant but prickling at my nose, a little bit the way peppermint tastes. It reminded me of the night sky and distant stars somehow. The smell awakened an unease within me, as I couldn’t quite place what it was and why it seemed so weird , but it wasn’t by any means unpleasant. It was… enticing. Like a promise of a mystery.

I breathed it in again through my nose, closing my eyes, and for a moment I lost all feeling in my body. I was untethered and immaterial, somewhere in deep darkness that seemed to envelop me whole. It felt cold on my mind, stretching it thoughtlessly in the empty vastness, and I saw distant flickering lights of stars. Before I could form a coherent thought, I was back in myself, panting and shaking, staring at the front page of the Punctum Visus . I looked around with shaky breaths; the attic looked the same, and Shawala’s steps on the stairs reached my ears, with her voice calling my name. A shiver passed down my spine, causing goosebumps to bloom on my skin; was it the draft, the dread, or the excitement I couldn’t tell.

I knew I had to read this book, no matter what it took for me to do so.

I took it home, almost forgetting about the rest of the books upstairs. It had spent the next month laying in my room, as I dealt with the formalities and moving the rest of things that weren’t sold from the house either to my place or to charity. After the day we left the house for the last time, I collapsed in my bed, exhausted, but instead of closing, my eyes fell on the book unassumingly waiting on my nightstand.

A surge of excitement passed through me, waking me right up. I sat up and reached for the book. It was still warm; I couldn’t tell if it was good or bad, but warm it was. I think it made me subconsciously assign it more… being? Like, even before I knew anything, I somehow subconsciously accepted that it was more than just an object; that it was, in a sense, alive on its own. I brushed my fingers on the cover, feeling the texture of the leather and the etching of the letters. In the meantime during this month I had checked the meaning of the title – Point of Sight; a position from which a thing is or is supposed to be viewed. It makes so much sense now.

But then I didn’t know what dangers it held; or I didn’t want to think about them. I do remember feeling anxious, my hands trembling every time I opened the cover, but it was so mingled with exhilaration of the certainty I was discovering something important that I must have disregarded it. As I turned the pages, I wasn’t surprised to find the text in Latin; though I still felt a pang of frustration that it meant I couldn’t read it for now. I rifled through the pages, looking curiously at the letters that formed words yet unattainable to me. There was a hunger inside of me; a hunger to Know. As I turned the pages past various symbols, illustrations of the constellations, and of Earth, I determined it must be some sort of a metaphysical work. The point of view on the world around us.

Normally I just skim through works like this and leave them. While they are an interesting read sometimes, they’re not my favourite genre and, looking objectively, putting in the effort of learning a whole language just for the sake of reading a treatise on the meaning of cosmos by an unknown author seems strange at best. But somehow it seemed obvious to me that I had to read it. It called to me, sang into a part of my being that begged to be filled, promising knowledge that would finally leave me satisfied. I know now that it’s impossible. Once you’ve tasted the hunger for knowing, you will never find satisfaction; it’s like an addiction. You just crave more and more, and the knowledge never ends. After a certain point you know too much and when it all connects, when it starts to make sense… you slip. I didn’t know that, even though maybe I should have. I didn’t know what those things I was feeling meant then and I didn’t stop to question them; I gave into it as soon as it touched me. I was stupid.

What followed were a busy couple of months. Every waking moment that wasn’t spent keeping up the pretence of being interested in my major (back then I only thought it a brief hyperfixation, of course, and wouldn’t have called it a pretence at all), I was learning Latin online or staring into the incomprehensible words on the pages. This period of my life is a blur; I remember my friends checking up on me if I was alright, since I wasn’t particularly social anymore. Shawala got progressively more worried, but it fully escaped my mind to care. I know that staring thoughtlessly at the book took up more and more of my time; once, I remember, I returned from my classes at three PM and took the book out; when I came back to myself it was well past midnight. That’s when I started to feel truly uneasy about it. It was the second half of April; I looked back on what I’ve been doing these past months and this cold dread started creeping up to my throat. I realized I didn’t know why I wanted to read the book so much and I remembered the “vision” or the hallucination I had that first time in my dad’s attic. I had set it aside completely as unimportant, and I couldn’t wrap my head around why. I started shaking and theorizing in my head about the book being able to influence my mind somehow, to control it. Had my actions not been my own? How much of it was my own will and how much was the book? Was it even possible for it to influence me like that; could it be that it was supernatural in some way?

The house became cold, unnaturally so. It was dark and all the windows were closed, but a chill draft managed to find its way into the corridor I was in anyway. I sank to the floor and hugged my knees, trembling in panic. I was all alone in the flat, everyone I knew was surely already asleep in their homes, and I was small and weak in the face of something that maybe could have controlled my mind. I suddenly became aware of the leatherbound book in my hand, and I threw it along the corridor at the front door with a whimper, as far away from me as possible. The book thumped against the door, then the floor, and opened on a random page.

I’ve read enough horrors. I knew that the page would be significant, and that knowledge made me sob and hug my knees tighter. I didn’t know what was happening; I felt like I’d just woken up from a months-long dream… and perhaps I was right. The recent past felt alien.

I felt tears sting my eyes and that’s when the smell reached me. Again that mixture of old paper and peppermint cold, distantly sweet but freezing the blood in my veins. My breath came in ragged and shallow, and tears streamed down my face as I stared at the open book that was calling me in an inaudible whisper. The logical side of my mind was trying desperately to make sense of it, to assign the dissociative feeling to my father’s death and yeah, it was plausible, but somehow it just didn’t feel right. The whispers sounded again, swirling around my head, the golden sound almost touching the back of my neck, making me wince. It was enticing and promising, but this time, I felt terror instead of excitement. Disregarding how my mind was trying to rationalize the situation, I knew the book was cursed somehow. I knew that I was its victim. And I knew that I would not be strong enough to resist it.

I don’t know how much time I sat there, trembling, and sobbing into my knees, before I calmed down from the panic and decided I had to do something. I had to find out what this book was and how it found itself into my dad’s library. I couldn’t remember seeing anything in his diaries that would mention it at all, but then again, I didn’t read them all cover to cover. On wobbly legs I carefully made my way back to my room and searched the Internet until the sun started peeking out of the window; I found nothing about any book titled Punctum Visus . I tried all the libraries that I’d known of, that had their assortment online, all the research databases; nothing.

So, at the crack of dawn, with a fast-beating heart, I stood in the door of my room, staring out into the corridor, where the book still lay by the front door, unmoving. The golden strings of a wordless melody made it to my ears; it promised an explanation; that this time if I looked close enough, I would find what I was looking for.

What was I looking for?

Where else could I find the answers if not in the book itself?

I could feel its cold fingers slowly wrap around my mind, steering me to come closer. It called me with a hypnotising voice that awakened all the red signals in my brain, telling me to run and hide, but I didn’t. The voice meant danger, but I knew it also meant knowledge.

Dangerous knowledge. The pull dragged me through the corridor step by step; I hadn’t been fighting it as strongly as I could have had and I was about to start, since I was getting closer to the book, but suddenly I felt the chill of the influence let go, hovering close but out of reach. It was still compelling me to come, to Look, but I could move my own limbs. I had a choice to make.

Knowledge of danger. Did I believe my own warning thoughts that I would regret looking into the book? Did I take my own logical, rational side seriously? Was I ever good at resisting my own impulses?

I’ve never been addicted to anything, but then again, I never really had the opportunity, as it were; my friends were more of a no-alcohol types and I really ever smoked cigarettes once. I’ve never seen drugs in real life. So who’s to say if I’m not an addictive personality? And this, this was addictive. The thrill of mystery, the exhilarating process of learning, the anticipation of the answers.

Was it ever really my choice?

No supernatural force guided my steps that night; no cold fingers made me kneel next to the book and carefully cradle it in my arms, looking at the page with a shaky breath and tears in my eyes, as if I was coming back home like the prodigal son. But I’m sure it was by some paranormal means that this time I could understand the text on the pages.

I honestly don’t remember what it said. As I read the unfamiliar words, the meaning presented itself in my mind, not entirely unlike that first “vision” I had in the attic; as soon as I started reading I knew that I had made the choice and there was no turning back. That cold draft enveloped me, sat on my skin, and started to bite; I felt that smell again, stronger than ever before, something intangible but unmistakably inhuman . It was then that I realized that’s what had felt wrong to me about the smell since the beginning. It was inferior and alien. My hands started shaking as my eyes, glued to the text, moved now on their own down the page, drinking the words in. I was terrified out of my mind, but the pleasant tingling along my nerves was back, the anticipation of the promised understanding.

My mind was drowned with the tide of knowledge. This was just a prologue; a true discovery would require preparation, but I was almost ready. The voice said I was chosen, that I was a perfect candidate to bring It what It needs and that I would be rewarded. I cried tears of amazement and horror at the sheer scope of the voice – it seemed to encompass the entire world. I couldn’t comprehend it, but I didn’t know then that it was a blessing. I wanted to know, I craved to know what It was and how I could be of use to something so powerful, so huge. Divine. That was a word that crossed my mind, as much as I don’t like that. I don’t like many things, but I can’t change any of them.

The voice said I’m on the right path. I would Know and Understand. First, I needed to do something. As It told me what that was, doubt started to creep up to my mind. What was I doing? What was happening? How could this be real?

I came to on the floor by my front door, the cursed book in hand, with a tear-stained face and a bloody nose.

I knew what I had to do to get ready and, as I calmed down and went over everything in my head, I was surprised by how trivial it was. Honestly, by this point I was kind of afraid It would tell me to hurt someone, so I was glad this was just about reading a bunch of words in a specific location at a specific time. I was aware of the fact that this was most probably a ritual, and I was quite apprehensive. I kept arguing with myself in my head, over and over whether I should follow through, but deep down I knew that I would, no matter what I told myself. This part, I think, scared me the most; how compelling the promise of knowledge was, how reverently I’d found myself thinking of the book and its owner (which I assumed was the voice), how fanatical some of my thoughts sounded. I’ve never been religious, never really felt idealistic either. I was always focused on facts, on the here and now. Can knowledge be an ideal? Can you be a fanatic of Seeing and Knowing?

How much had I changed since I’d found Punctum Visus in that old attic.

I found a good, quiet spot, on the north-west side of the New Forest National Park near Southampton. I told no one about this, deeming it unimportant. I would come back after my big discovery, I would explain everything. I laugh at myself now; at my naivety.

The night of April 28 th was clear, and the starry sky looked back at me as I parked my car on the road in the forest and locked it. I tied a piece of a long red string to the wheel, not to lose my way in the forest, and started to walk forward. I held the book close to my chest, as if it could protect me from the dark, eerie outlines of the trees, swaying gently on the wind and whatever the darkness around me held. I didn’t light the torch; the moon was nearly full, bathing everything in its gentle light, and besides, for some reason it seemed that the crude yellow light would somehow break the sanctity of what I was about to do. I could see the ground in front of me and managed to lose sight of my car and everything else besides trees pretty fast.

I stopped when I found a small clearing. The moon was high in the sky, shining down on me like a big eye; I didn’t know why this comparison seemed the most fitting, but it did. I took a deep breath, feeling a chill plant little dots all over my skin, making my hairs stand on end. The wind died down and the trees froze, as if in anticipation. I felt something watching me closely; I was not alone here anymore.

The realization made my breath catch in my throat and the last streaks of sanity broke through my thick skull. Run! Drop the book and run! I didn’t. My hands trembled, my muscles tensed, and I stood there, frozen with fear as something stared at me, seemingly for eternity. Something bigger than me, bigger than anything I have ever seen was watching me, waiting. My eyes dropped to the book in my arms. The black leather was warm, as always, but this time I felt a pulsating sensation from it. A heartbeat.

I screamed. The book landed discarded on the ground, and I stumbled backwards and tripped, landing in the grass as well. It was cold and wet, and it glistened with something in the faint moonlight. At first I took it for water, but upon closer inspection I saw it was the grass itself that glittered – a shy rainbow, glowing iridescently in an impossible way. I froze, stunned, for I have never seen such colours before. It seemed utterly alien, something unfitting for the human eye to see; simultaneously beautiful and horrifying.

As I looked around, I noticed that everything alive in the forest – the trees, the grass, the bushes, the plants – had taken on that iridescent mixture of faint light that prickled my eyes and sent a shiver of terror down my spine. It was beautiful, utterly gorgeous in a way that nothing a human eye can perceive could be. It was horrifying in how different, alien, and other it was. My senses could tell this is not of the Earth; not of this reality, not of this world; everything in me that still had common sense tried to recoil from the inferiority of this magnificence and the danger it brought, but I had abandoned common sense a while back. Maybe even when I touched the book for the first time. I stared then, breathless and trembling, at this scenery as if from a fairy tale and decided to lock away my rational thoughts. I wanted to See, to Know; I wanted to experience and if this was the death of me then hell, it was a pretty good way to go. To behold such a sight, I thought, was a reward in and of itself.

Of course, I had no idea what any of it meant. I slowly rose to my knees and patted the ground down until I felt the book. It still pulsated with this heartbeat and the letters etched in the leather glowed with golden light. My hands were sweaty, and I didn’t know whether I was shivering from fear or the cold. I opened the book on the first page.

What I saw was not what I had expected. I remembered that the first page, after the titular one, was the beginning of the introduction, that much I had understood, but now it was a big picture in black and white; a night sky, with an almost full moon and strewn with stars. It was a shot from the ground and treetops could be seen at the edges of the picture. As the book swayed in my hands, the stars glittered, and the perspective shifted ever so slightly, as if it was in 3D. Stricken by a surge of dread and cold certainty, I looked up. My suspicion was right – the picture in the book depicted the exact image that was now above me. I gasped quietly and looked down at the book—

And this is where things started to really go horribly, horribly wrong.

The book was gone. What’s more, the ground was gone too and suddenly everything was not where it should have been. I blinked but it did nothing to ease the dizziness; and when I composed myself enough to register what I was seeing I froze, the most intense horror I have ever experienced crushing my body from all sides and inside out.

I realized that I was Seeing. I was finally Seeing, and I Understood it all.

I don’t know how to convey in words what I saw. I don’t believe it’s possible; humans were never made to see and understand such things. I should have never touched the book, I should have never asked for knowledge. All my life I believed that knowledge was the point; it was a tool, and it was power. I don’t know what I think anymore. I think some knowledge should always be hidden because we were not made to know everything. We can’t , it’s physically impossible for us to comprehend.

For one moment in my life. For one moment I became something else, and I saw the world in the way It sees the world. For one moment I shared a mind with an eldritch being, a thing that is Fear itself, and I saw the Earth through Its Eye. I can’t… I can’t tell you just how horrible it is. How… How meaningless; we’re all intertwined things, guided by strings of web that lead us through life, and we’re all connected in this maze of fear . We’re not individuals; we’re not special. We don’t have souls and none of our experiences matter. We’re just fear. These… These entities are a part of all of us. They’re our fear and they live inside of us, inside of every living creature that can feel fear. Can you comprehend that? How can you be sure you are yourself when there’s a cosmic entity, a power as old as life itself, living you ? And no one has any idea. Nobody knows and if I tell someone they’ll think I’m crazy. Sometimes I think I’m crazy. But deep down I know what I saw. I know it was real. And I’m terrified. I’m terrified because I know that this Being of eyes that I became a part of watches everything I do. I feel Its presence here very strongly, and I guess it makes sense. It will never leave me. It’s a part of me, just like the rest of them; just like they’re all a part of every one of you, yet you have no idea. But I know. And I know I’m all alone with that knowledge, the knowledge that I can’t comprehend, but I know I could in that one moment. It’s a very lonely place to be and I’m scared.

I’m scared as I have never been before; this fear doesn’t leave me anymore. Every second of every day I’m aware I’m watched by something as great as cosmos. I’m aware I shared my mind with that being and it makes my skin crawl.

I don’t know what to do now, but I don’t expect any advice from you. I’m leaving the book with you, as proof. Its heart doesn’t beat anymore, and I’ve seen what I was supposed to.

Don’t read it.

Notes: If you enjoyed it, please consider leaving me a comment!! For people interested in a little bit of background: Lyria is a D&D character I have created that still awaits her chance to play in a campaign. She's an arcane scholar that has a dark little secret of actually being a warlock of a being she doesn't know a lot about. She's in love with knowledge and she seeks to learn about her powers as well as the world around her. I'm currently DMing a Ravenloft campaign and I just couldn't miss the fact how much potential for a corruption arc she has. Then I listened to TMA and I was like, she would definitely become the Avatar of the Beholding.

[dinosaurtsukki]

❀ weakness | “it wasn’t like that” “then what was it?” feat. akaashi keiji

⇢ day 9 of angstcember

⇢ synopsis: being with akaashi keiji, the vocalist of your favorite band, was a dream come true for you. however, he soon becomes far too out of reach.

⇢ a/n: i really love thinking of main vocalist!akaashi and i’m so glad i got to incorporate it into an angstcember fic :D

⇢ pairing: akaashi keiji x f!reader

⇢ word count: 2.5k words

ANGSTCEMBER MASTERLIST (feat. haikyuu!! and bungou stray dogs)

━━━━━━━━✿ ━━━━━━━━

the thing about falling for musicians and band members was that there was always going to be a distance between you two. there was the physical distance between stage and audience, and the fact that no matter how many times you showed up at their gigs and screamed about being their fans, you were never really ‘close’ to them.

needless to say, you didn’t really care about all that when you first watched akaashi keiji, the main vocalist of a student band, sing onstage in the local bar that everyone in university visited on friday nights. he didn’t look that much different from the other band vocalists you’ve seen with his curly, brown hair, white t-shirt and jeans, and dark eyes lined with black that always fluttered shut whenever he sang. no, it was the way he sang that caught your attention. his voice a beautiful tenor that drew out every syllable of the lyrics. it was as if akaashi was the siren and the crowds formed the dangerous waves that pulled you in close. 

the stage lights illuminated the shine of his skin, making him look almost ethereal. the boundary between you and the stage felt even greater even though you were in the very front of the crowd. but when akaashi’s eyes fluttered open to survey the crowd, they landed on yours. 

and somehow, it felt as if the distance between you two had been bridged.

...

ever since that night, you had signed yourself up to be their band’s full-time fan. you followed their social media and marked down your calendar to show up at every single gig. always, always, you made it a point to make your way to the front of the audience whenever they played. even though they were still a local band that was pretty much under the radar, you still knew that meeting them in person would take some time. 

or so you thought.

“hey.”

the all-too familiar voice made you stop in your tracks as you left the bar to hurry back to your dorm. blinking with surprise, you turned around to find akaashi keiji himself leaning against the wall outside the bar with his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. you thought you were dreaming, but he was looking right at you.

“you’re the girl who always shows up at our gigs here, right?”

“i... um, yeah!” you nodded, trying to smooth your hair as much as you could as you inched closer to him. “i... really like your music,” you smiled shyly. up close, akaashi keiji looked even more beautiful under the dim lights. the liner around his eyes looked perfectly smudged and you noticed a few piercings in his left ear.

“i’m glad,” akaashi smiled, shuffling his feet. “it’s... comforting, you know? to see a regular fan. most of the time we’re not even sure if people are going to show up.”

“tons of people do,” you said.

“but none quite like you,” akaashi narrowed his eyes at you before his lips turned up in a slight smile. “um, i feel like it would be too presumptuous of me to ask this but, would you like an autograph?”

“y-yes! definitely!” you nodded a bit too excitedly. akaashi chuckled and searched his pockets.

“i think i have a pen here somewhere...”

“oh, hold on...” you searched your purse for anything he could write on, only to come up with a few paper napkins that you always kept with you. “all i have is this, though.”

“well, same here,” akaashi said, lifting the only writing instrument he had on him: an eyeliner pencil. you couldn’t help but stare in wonder as akaashi carefully signed the paper napkin before handing it back to you. 

“figured i should do something nice on behalf of the band for our number one fan before we officially disband,” akaashi smiled.

“d-disband? what? why?” you stammered.

“it’s not official yet, i haven’t told the guys about it,” akaashi rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “but, i’ve been thinking that it’s for the best. sure, being in the band is fun but very few actually make it. konoha-san, bokuto-san, and washio-san, they trust me so they’ll believe whatever i say but i don’t want to lead them on, you know?”

“but you guys are amazing!” you protested. “i mean, sure it’s different from mainstream music and all but the lyrics that you have are straight-up poetry and don’t even get me started on the music...”

“you... think my lyrics are poetry?” akaashi looked at you with wide eyes.

“i mean... of course they are,” you said softly. “but, what i’m saying is i believe in you guys. take it from your number fan, why don’t you?” you pleaded one last time. akaashi looked down at the ground, appearing to mull it over, before smiling and nodding.

“alright then. i’ll give it a few more months.”

“you will?”

“but, if nothing happens by then. i’m afraid we’ll have to say our goodbye’s.”

“that won’t happen,” you shook your head. “i just know it.” you carefully folded the napkin with your precious autograph and placed it inside your wallet. “i’ll be seeing you in more gigs, akaashi keiji.” with a wave, you turned around and walked away.

“wait!” 

you stopped again and turned around. akaashi looked, nervous, for some reason as he stuffed his hands in his pockets again. finally, he asked.

“would you like to grab a coffee sometime?”

...

you never thought you would actually be able to get to know akaashi keiji beyond the version of him he presented onstage. in the mornings, he attended class, writing song lyrics in the margins of his notebook, and worked part-time at the library. he liked drinking his coffee black and adding a few drops of lavender oil in his laundry so he slightly smelled like it. and knowing this bits of information made it even more wonderful to watch akaashi sing onstage.

true to what you said, something did happen within the few months that you convinced him not for them to disband. 

“an invitation to play in the university fair? this is huge!” bokuto, the band’s drummer hooted. you watched with a warm smile on your face as you watched the band members you grew to know and love hug each other. from across the room, akaashi caught your eye before gesturing with his head to head outside.

“what did i tell you?” you grinned smugly when the two of you were alone.

“i know, i know. thank you very much for convincing me to keep the band together,” akaashi smiled at you. 

“you can count always count on me to get your hopes up.”

“you have supported our band since the beginning,” akaashi bit his lip as his eyes flickered to the side. “and, i truly appreciate that but... i was wondering if you could support me a bit more... personally.”

“what? of course i will,” you nodded.

“no, i mean,” akaashi paused, inhaled deeply, before continuing. “y/n... i was wondering if you would like to be my girlfriend.”

be his girlfriend? 

how could you say no? 

“akaashi, of course!” you laughed, flinging your arms around his neck. akaashi’s breath tickled your ear as he pulled you close.

“i’m glad, y/n. i’m so glad,” he smiled, looking down at you. you may have started out watching akaashi from afar, but you had made it closer to him.

...

“there can’t be anything better...” akaashi sang as he played a few chords on the piano, trying out a few different ways to sing the line before settling on a progression that he liked and writing it down. his hair was a mess and he was dressed only in his pajama pants because he headed straight for the stand piano in your bedroom after rolling out of bed. 

“i like the second one more,” you said out loud, watching him from where you lay on the bed.

“really?” akaashi cocked his head, playing the chords and singing it again. “hmm... maybe i could have it for the bridge?” 

“definitely! and you can make konoha insert a cool guitar riff right there,” you added.

“are you sure you don’t want to be credited in the album?” akaashi looked at you with a sideways smile.

“i’m not that ready for fame,” you teased.

“ït’s literally just our second release. it’s not one to hit the charts just yet,” akaashi shook his head.

“you wanna bet?” you smirked. 

“maybe not yet.” akaashi scooted over the piano bench and patted the space next to him. “come, sit here.”

giggling, you left the bed to sit beside him. you loved watching his songwriting process up close, how his thoughts just stringed the perfect words together and coming up with the most amazing melody to compliment it. you loved the sound of his voice, whether it was slightly husky in the morning or as smooth as silk after he drank the tea you’d brew for him, and how his fingers danced over the ivory keys.

“there can’t be anything better than, waking up together when the sunlight hits your face just right...” akaashi sang before pausing. “well, that’s all i got for now.”

“it sounds beautiful,” you sighed.

“that’s because it comes from personal experience,” akaashi smiled, turning to place a kiss on your forehead.

“oh, so am i your muse now?” you teased.

“no,” akaashi scoffed, absentmindedly playing a tune on the piano. “muses are people artists abandon when they’re no longer inspired by them. you,” akaashi grabbed your chin and kissed you on the mouth. “are more than that.”

...

just as you predicted, akaashi’s band grew to success in its own time. the title track of the third album was a hit success, much to akaashi and everyone else in the band’s surprise. they had offers to play on radio shows, to live studio sessions, and then soon, they were able to cut a deal with a record label for their next album. it was the life you knew akaashi had always wanted and you couldn’t be happier for your boyfriend.

you had always known that there was something captivating about akaashi, whether he was on or offstage. he grew to be popular among women and men alike and you just had to be comfortable with it. despite all that, akaashi liked to remind his fans that he already had a girlfriend. he never forgot to dedicate the songs he wrote about you on live or recorded performances and in interviews, he liked to blow a kiss at the camera just for you.

as the band’s number one fan, you still made it a point to attend all of their performances but this time, you weren’t at the very front of the crowd. you were farther now, watching akaashi sing onstage from the VIP section. the view was good but you were much farther now and for some reason, you felt uncomfortable about this.

turns out, it was a prelude to something much worse.

the distance between you and akaashi grew. the band was offered a chance to go on-tour so your boyfriend was constantly caught up in band practices, interviews, and composing new music in the recording studio. your calls with him were always cut short by his manager needing his attention. he even stopped his usual practice of dedicating songs to you.

most nights, you lay in your empty, shared bedroom or absentmindedly played the abandoned piano, wishing you could go back to those days when akaashi was always there when you woke up. 

...

 “y/n... you’re here!” konoha greeted you just outside the recording studio’s door. 

“yeah, i wanted to surprise him,” you chuckled, holding up the box of the birthday cake you had brought. for some reason, konoha’s smile faltered at the sight of the birthday cake. “is... keiji here? did he just leave?” you asked, trying to look over konoha’s shoulder.

“y/n...” konoha paused, evidently struggling with what he was going to say. watching him formed an anxious pit in your stomach. “shit... i-i can’t keep lying to you.”

“konoha... what’s going on?” your hands trembled as they held onto the cake box as the voices from inside the studio grew louder.

“akaashi, you said it would be the last time! we can’t keep covering for you.”

“think about how y/n would feel?”

“let me through! let me through!” you exclaimed, pushing past konoha and into the recording studio room.

nothing could prepare you for what you what you were looking at. now, you understood why those ‘recording studio sessions’ would end up late into the night and why akaashi’s manager, a beautiful young woman who always made you feel less put-together, always looked smug around you. 

“keiji...” your voice shook as you watched your boyfriend shift his gaze guiltily to the floor. “how could you...?”

“it-it wasn’t like that--”

“then what was it?” you practically screamed. 

“look, you don’t know what it’s like dealing with all of this,” akaashi rubbed the back of his head. “all the stress and expectations and having to come up with new material--”

“you could have come to me! i’m right here, i’ve always been right here,” you bit your lip and asked what you were afraid to know. “how long has this been going on?”

akaashi shifted uncomfortably. “...a few months.”

you turned to look at bokuto who had been standing awkwardly in the side of the room since you came in. “how long?”

“longer than that,” bokuto murmured. “sorry we didn’t tell you sooner.”

“i can’t believe you,” you shook your head, slamming the cake down on a nearby table. “happy birthday, by the way.”

“y/n, wait!”

you didn’t give akaashi a chance to explain himself because you’d already seen enough. it was only when you were on a bus on the way home that the sadness started to hit you as sobs escaped from your chest. despite all of this, you missed akaashi terribly. you missed the feeling of his fingers brushing hair from your face in the morning. you missed how he’d wave at you through the glass in the recording studio. you missed hugging him and smelling lavender on his clothes. you missed the soft look in his eyes when he composed a new song dedicated to you.

with the tears running down your face, you searched through your purse for something to wipe your eyes only to come across the edge of the napkin inside your wallet. you pulled it out to find the autograph from akaashi, the very first one he ever gave to anyone, and immediately remembered that night when you two first talked. 

‘to my number one fan: i hope i’ll always get to see your face in the front-row’

the thing about falling for musicians and band members was that there was always going to be a distance between you two. at first, you thought you and akaashi had managed to close that distance, only for you to end up even farther than you ever were. 

━━━━━━━━✿ ━━━━━━━━

event taglist: @himikadafangirl @swoona-rintarou @l-dokisaki-l @laure-chan @aonenthusiast @ah-kaashi @just-a-gay-bean @linyu-sees-you @alto-march-of-death @newfriendjen @shrimpypenis​ @tenyafacesquish​ @mkkhaikyuu​

taglist applications still open! just answer this form

[phoenixtakaramono]

Does Bing gē Have Descendants in ‘The Untold Tale?’

This topic has come up a few times since The Untold Tale takes place in the PIDW universe (post-Bingge vs Bingmei extra), I figured I might as well compile and archive my official answer here for me to refer my AO3 readers to in the future for convenience’s sake. I hope everyone doesn’t mind. :) I’m always happy to answer questions!

TL;DR

Q: Will we see Bing gē having fathered children with his harem of 600 or so wives in TUT?

A: For TUT, the answer is a definite “no.” There were a lot of factors which’d contributed to my decision. I’ll try to explain my reasoning down below.

Context

In PIDW, it is canon that Luo Binghe has a bountiful number of descendants with his harem of 600-or-so wives. It is a detail that has been mentioned even in ch1 of SVSSS and in ep1 of the donghua.

(SVSSS Excerpt - ch1)

(SVSSS donghua - ep1)

I like to plan things ahead of time. So from very early on, I knew this would be something I would have to decide on whether or not to address when I’d finally decided to expand TUT from just a prologue into a full-blown story. And after contemplating it, I decided against adding children into the story. It is because 1) it would make the situation more complicated, and 2) it would take TUT in a different direction that wouldn’t be fun for me to write.

I’m a very decisive writer, meaning when I make my mind up about something, chances are I won’t change my mind. This is because I would have already planned it into my plot outline, which means changing a decision would require me to change other details in the other chapters I have planned for that story. (I’m typically not a spontaneous writer; I try not to write spontaneously because when you’re a writer who rotates through multiple WIPs with different characters across different genres or writing styles, you inevitably have writer’s block because you probably won’t remember all the ideas or the direction you had whenever you return back to a different WIP. To reduce this shortcoming, it helps me personally to have a plot outline. This way I can return to any WIP, read my notes and then transcribe them into legible paragraphs, find a way to transition between the story beats I have to hit for that chapter, and then eventually post the final draft to AO3 when I feel it’s ready.)

Having made a decision, I knew I had to set it up in TUT and give a “reasonable explanation in-story.” Hence, in ch2, we see:

(Excerpt I - ch2)

Basically the set-up is TUT takes place post-Bingge vs Bingmei, but between “the third or fourth book” of the hypothetical PIDW webnovel series aka before Airplane wrote the fanservicey chapters where the luckier of LBH’s wives give birth to children during the harem drama plots and the children are probably rarely, if ever, mentioned again in the story as a lot of stallion novels tend to do.

(Excerpt II - ch2)

(Excerpt III - ch2)

Contrarian Tendencies

You know the saying: Monkey see, monkey do? In my case, it’s monkey see, monkey do not do.

A little fun fact about me as a writer: if I have already seen a fanfic where someone has already written a concept or idea into their story, chances are I will just avoid it entirely in my own stories. I don’t know why this aversion exists, but I’m assuming it’s because of my counterculture hipster inclinations and an intrinsic fear of plagiarism which has been beaten into all of our skulls since adolescence. There’s nothing wrong with being inspired by other people’s works. Technically everything’s been done before in writing so, as a writer, a good rule of thumb is to always try to give it your own unique spin on things. So for me, my brain somehow interpreted this a step further. This is a reason why I try to avoid reading stories from whichever fandom my WIP is from during the writing process of updating a fic, because this is how I get influenced. Once I see an idea or interpretation from another fanfiction, it influences me to not want to write it into my own. This is a very strong unconscious impulse for me. I guess this is just the neurons in my brain’s thinking that this way, it won’t be something my readers will have read before and the story idea will come across as different or fresh, and mine. In a way this is also how I show respect for fanfiction writers in the same fandom—by being inspired to not be inspired, ha. I like to think every story in the world serves a niche audience, so seeing a diverse range of originality and interpretations in a fandom is a good thing. This is also how I feel when I am able to identify certain popular tropes or depictions or patterns in a fandom; 99% of the time, it makes me feel a compulsion to “go against the grain” or write the opposite. For example, you have no idea how long it took me to come around the idea of incorporating the fanon “A-Yuan” into TUT. However cute it is, the moment it dominated the fandom (well, “dominated” is an exaggeration; it’s more like I’ve seen enough, especially in the Original LBH/ SY | SQQ tag), my gut reaction was to nope out of using it. But after seeing a lot of comments in my inbox with readers affectionately calling SY “A-Yuan,” I’d contemplated it for a long time and it wasn’t until ch4 that I decisively decided that yes, I can have Bing gē calling SY “A-Yuan” in TUT—but it has to be at the right moment for maximum dramatic and emotional impact. (See this thread that started it all. And this is the small sneak peek I wrote where LBH will call SY that for the first time.) <- This is the rare 1% where I actually conformed to what’s popular.

In this case, when I finally decided to expand the prologue into a full-blown story, coincidentally I had just recently read a good Binggeyuan (Bingyuan) fanfic which featured a kidnapped Shen Yuan interacting with Bing gē’s harem and LBH’s children/descendants. I’d liked their portrayal and even thought the children were cute. <- However, with me having reading this, the problem came up: I felt the familiar stubbornness in me rearing its head. So knowing myself, if I had included children, it is very likely the direction that I would have gone down for TUT would have been the opposite. To further complicate matters, you have to keep in mind the kind of writer I am. I tend to like grounding stories with a semblance of realism, no matter if the genre is pseudohistorical fantasy, romance, sci-fi, etc. And this writer has seen and read quite a few harem and palace intrigue Chinese dramas/ premises.

For further context, in those types of “historical” C-dramas^, in that sort of environment which fosters scheming, competition, jealousy, etc, it is almost expected to see heirs aka children aka descendants harmed along with the women. Innocent parties are often victims in these sorts of cutthroat premises, to underscore the underlying message the show or novel wishes to present. (See Ruyi’s Royal Love in the Palace. See Yanxi Palace. See The Legend of Haolan. See Nirvana in Fire. See The Rebirth of the Malicious Empress of Military Lineage. Etc.) And me being me, this would be the direction I would take. Remember, while TUT is meant to emulate a legitimate danmei C-novel reading experience in a fantasy world, I do drop pseudohistorical and cultural Easter eggs into the story. So trust me when I say you would not like the direction TUT would have gone down in, had I made LBH have children with his harem. I mean, theoretically yes, we could’ve seen endearing children characters from me, but you would have also seen me addressing a lot of the baggage that comes with (see Comment III Excerpt down below).

The situation with dissolving Bing gē’s harem is already complicated enough. As his romance with Shen Yuan develops, I didn’t want to have an additional headache thinking about how to address the issue of LBH having children already. Divorces in a pseudohistorical context is already a heavy topic—even more so when it’s divorces with children in the mix. Naturally I will still have SY and LBH eventually discuss the matter of legitimate heirs since LBH will essentially become the Sacred Ruler of all Three Realms and it’s a traditional precedent for an emperor to bed his empress, noble consort, and imperial concubines until he has his heirs (plural, because the rate of mortality was high in ancient China). In TUT’s case, at that point in the story SY will remind LBH that he’s essentially an immortal sovereign so there isn’t any need for an heir unless he wishes to retire. Furthermore, he will inform LBH that he could set a new precedent since he’s already different from the other emperors from history (with him being of half-Heavenly Demon and half-human cultivator lineage); as long as LBH is fully aware of all perspectives of the situation, he doesn’t necessarily need to conform to all traditions if this is something he really feels strongly about. But this future conversation(s) is likely the extent of it.

But wait, you say, what about a certain someone who’s going to be transmigrated as an imperial crown prince? Isn’t he going to be in that sort of vicious upbringing? <- Yes. But that’s an entirely seperate matter. In a way, since I’ve decided Bing gē will not have had any children or descendants in TUT, with Airplane, this now presents an opportunity for me to show the consequences of being one of the many children of an emperor with a harem of women vying for one man’s attention—and the power struggle that’d ensue in this kind of environment. It’s an interesting What-If parallel, if you think about it.

AO3 Comments

Although these are just small excerpts from replies I’ve written before, it’s nice and orderly to just compile them here for everyone since these will be buried underneath all the comments as TUT updates:

(Comment I- ch3)

(Comment II- ch4)

(Comment III- ch4)

Because of seeing comments that have asked me for my thoughts on whether or not I will include LBH’s children, I’ve had so much fun seeing theories thrown around: from LBH’s blood parasites being able to control conception, to someone’s headcanon about LBH being a hybrid and all that entails scientifically (think: mules). I will say in TUT, it’s more the former since in PIDW he’s supposed to have descendants; we’re pretending Bing gē doesn’t have any yet (and now definitely won’t, especially after having heard SY’s “prophecy”) because he subconsciously does not want children due to certain fears, trauma, etc. And his Heavenly Demon’s “blood parasites” (blood manipulation) is a convenient story device to explain why no wife has gotten pregnant yet.

I hope this explanation makes sense! Mainly I just wanted to have this archived on tumblr so that I have this post to refer to moving forward.

On a side note: especially since ch4 had been posted, quite a few people have actually mentioned they’ve read my replies to other comments and/or I have seen different people having hopped onto other readers’ comment threads (for example, imagine my pleasant surprise when I saw a reader you lovely person, you helpfully jumping in to respond to another reader’s questions about TUT, and their answers were actually aligned with what I would’ve answered!), so it’s always such a thrill whenever I see this level of engagement happening. I can’t explain why, but seeing this happening is just so cute to me. It really makes this writer feel so warm and fuzzy inside!

[a-dorin]

feral | darth maul

word count: 1.760k

warnings: nsfw, sex pollen(and its effects), oral (receiving), smut, filthy language, cursing, nudity, pet names, mentions of ovulation, horn kink

a/n: i incorporated a request, along with sex pollen for this one! i hope you guys like it, as i am really proud of it! if you wanted to be added to my taglist, let me know. enjoy our favorite zabrak, consumed with lust from copious amounts of sex pollen! 

prompt:  “Please, I need a fic of Savage, or Maul, just dying slowly in his rut, just smelling the reader ovulating and internally going nuts from all the hormones”

(not my gif)

it was almost as if he was suffocating. 

as if someone had their hands around his throat, choking him. maker, was this feeling unmatched. it was overwhelming, flooding his body with one, primal, desire. the zabrak shook his head, a low growl erupting him from his lips. his insides burned, his body temperature elevated. he was panting, his breaths coming out ragged, shortened. 

he had to quench this fire consuming him whole. 

and he had to do it now. 

“m-master?” your sweet, innocent voice filled his ears, “are you all right?”

the zabrak eyes blazed, an intense, smoldering amber as they fell on you, “i’m fine.”

wrinkling your nose, you arched a brow, “are you sure? you smell so.. sweet. did you roll around in wildflowers on your way back?”

his hearts thudded as a whiff of your scent flooded his nostrils. your scent was heavenly, an alluring mix of sandalwood, starflower, white agarwood, and amber. a trace of starflower lingered as well. he could sense your pheromones, ears pricking up on the dull beating of your heart as you gazed at him, depths glimmering with concern. 

maker, was he ready to pounce. 

but, not yet. 

time was not of the essence in this case. the effects of the pollen would last the entirety of the night. and maul was patient. he was calculating your every response in his mind. although he could sense your unease through the force, he didn’t want to extract the thoughts swimming in that little brain of yours.

hearing the words tumble from those pretty little lips of yours would be far more satisfying. 

in the moonlight, your exposed skin glowed, a bright, softened, greyish-blue glow. a loose tunic hung from your frame, your nipples hardened, peaking out through the thin fabric. your thighs were full, the skin so tantalizing. if only he could feel it against his tongue. maul blinked, unsure if his eyes were deceiving him. 

if this was a mere mirage, an illusion. 

or, if this was reality, and you were standing before him, aching and desperate for him. 

“you’re ovulating,” his eyes narrowed, “i can practically smell your arousal, little one.”

satisfaction rushed through him as pink dusted your cheeks, “w-what are you talking about?”

the zabrak cleared his throat, “i can sense the desire consuming you. it’s gnawing away at you, and the way your cheeks flushed tell me everything i need to know. there is no need to lie, (y/n).”

“okay, okay,” you muttered, cheeks burning crimson now, “perhaps you’re right. but what are you going to do about it? besides, i think i recognize that sickening scent.”

“please, tell your master what you believe it is.”

“somehow, you encountered sex pollen. did you walk in a field of wildflowers?” your tone was smooth, the words confident. 

the purr intensified, “i may have stumbled across some. yet, there is nothing more i would like to do right now than take care of your problem, little one. would you let your master help you? it would be a fair trade.”

“i don’t think you have the-” you began, but maul practically lunged forward, his lips merely centimeters away from yours. 

“just because i don’t have the same anatomy as my other males of my species does not mean that i cannot feel or give pleasure,” his words pierced right through you, directly to your core, “do not underestimate me, little one.”

“i never said i-”

the words formed, yet didn’t come out as his lips collided with yours, the kiss hungry and open-mouthed, desperate to establish dominance. you couldn’t help but submit, nearly collapsing as he sucked on your bottom lip, his tongue exploring your mouth. deepening the kiss, a guttural growl rumbled in his throat as your hand, so soft and delicate, rested on his chest, tracing the tattoos woven on his skin. your lips were plump, a trace of strawberries lingering. 

the lust that threatened the zabrak intruded his mind completely, any coherent thought slipping from his mind. 

he was bordering the line, his inhibitions crumbling away by the second. 

maul was about to go feral. 

a yelp bounced off the walls as maul scooped you into his arms, grasping you by your thighs. your arms looped around his neck as he clambered towards the lower deck, in the direction of his personal quarters. he took no time, reaching the destination within minutes. 

as soon as he stepped foot in the space, he threw you onto the bed, your back hitting the mattress. the zabrak looming over you was on longer maul, your master. the aura hanging over him was nothing but pure lust, his instincts shrouding his logic. yet, you couldn’t help but feel the wetness between your thighs. how you were just as desperate as he was. how you yearned for a touch. his touch. 

his body was on top of yours now, the heat radiating off of him in thick, intense waves. lips connected with yours once more, the kisses needy, craving more. his hands tugged at your tunic, the fabric crinkling between his fingers. 

“you can take it off,” your lips brushed against his.

“so eager,” maul panted, “do you really want me to take it off, little one?”

you nodded, earning a hum of approval, “as you wish.”

a horrid, tearing noise rang through the room as your tunic fell of your frame, crumpling to the mattress. your breath hitched in your throat as maul’s eyes raked over your exposed body, the amber hue darkening to a deep, murky honey. 

“you didn’t wear anything underneath.”

“i didn’t say rip it off,” you muttered, a flash of irritation ringing through your mind. 

a hand covered your mouth, “hush. i will replace it.”

warm, callused hands roamed all over your flesh. maul licked his lips, savoring how your skin felt under his touch. how it was so smooth. so soft. so human. 

his hands cupped your breasts, the zabrak rolling your nipples between his fingers. a breathy, broken moan dripped from your lips. his mouth met with your neck, gently nipping as he placed a trail of wet, sloppy kisses down, ensuring that he plastered you with love bites. you were his, and he wanted to ensure that you knew.

every single move was electrifying, the air crackling with tension as maul had his way with you, peppering kisses all over your collarbone and chest. a shiver ran down your spine the moment his tongue flicked over your nipple, a whimper flooding the zabrak’s ears. 

“you’re so beautiful,” maul murmured against the underside of your breast as he painted another mark, “i could ravish you all night.”

your hands wrapped around his horns, desperately clinging on as his mouth drifted lower, not leaving a single inch of skin untouched. the sensation was blissful, pleasure rippling through your body, pressure building in your abdomen.

“now what do we have here?” a purr rumbled from the zabrak as he parted your thighs, “my gods are you soaking. is this all for me?” 

blush spread through your cheeks, “it is, master.”

maul slipped a finger between your folds, his eyes hardening as you squirmed, bucking your hips, “i see that my apprentice needs a lesson on patience.” 

“i am patient,” the words were a groan as his thumb circled your clit. 

“i don’t believe that,” maul chuckled darkly, “you’re practically riding my finger as i touch you. little one, you’re eager for me. i promise i will take care of you.” 

the zabrak drank in the sight of you. although he was beyond the point of thinking coherently, drunk with lust, he knew the image would be permanently ingrained in his mind. he would remember the way you core glistened in the light, the way love bites, from his mouth no less, were plastered all over your skin. 

the way your eyes shone. 

ablaze with longing. yearning for to fulfill the fantasies hazing your mind. 

craving for him. 

your taste coated his taste buds as he buried his head between your thighs, his nose brushing against your folds as he delved deeper, aching to feel it all drip onto his tongue. 

maker, was the taste divine. 

it was pure ambrosia, ecstasy washing over maul as he consumed you. 

your moans were melodic, his arms wrapped around your thighs, clutching onto your hips, pinning you down. pleasure racked your body, your head thudding against the pillow, jaw slack as he lapped away at your core, the juices dribbling down his chin, onto the sheets. 

the heat of his tongue was blissful as it flicked over your clit, the zabrak purring as he inserted a finger into you. the action was effortless, his finger pumping in and out, curling as it entered you. pressure was building in your abdomen, coaxing you closer and closer to orgasm. 

you were a mess underneath him, bucking your hips, riding his tongue as he fucked you with not only one finger, but two. he was pushing so deeply inside you, almost to the knuckle. the way you gripped his horns sent euphoria crashing over the zabrak, his hearts thudding. 

and maker was the sight of you oh so gratifying. 

“i can feel your walls tightening around my fingers,” his breath was hot, amber eyes glossed over with satisfaction, “are you getting close?” 

nodding meekly, the words were strained through gritted teeth, “i’m so close.”

maul’s pace of his fingers intensified, “that’s a good girl. you’re my good girl, (y/n). you’ve been so behaved for me, taking my tongue so well. you can cum.”

the moment he was finished, his lips wrapped around your clit, sucking on the bud. 

you unfolded, collapsing onto the mattress. 

stars burst in your vision, dancing as your thighs trembled. maul lapped away, ensuring that he savored the taste of you on his tongue as you came, orgasm racking your body. your breathing was shortened, ragged as he pulled away, his lips glazed with your juices. 

“here,” maul murmured, his voice delicate, “taste yourself.”

parting your lips, you licked his fingertips, earning a praise, “good girl.”

maintaining eye contact, you sucked on the digits, watching as his eyes squeezed shut, a noise you had never heard before tumbling from his lips. 

the sound was sweet, flowing so beautifully from his lips, like honey. 

maul nearly melted.

“h-how can i please you master?” you inquired, keeping his hand close to your mouth. 

narrowing his eyes, a smirk crept onto his features, eyes glowing amber in the night. 

“come here.”

*****

tagged:  @sapphicstars @bonniewinchester  @pameladoesthings , @maulieber  @bonesaldente  @arsonistvoyager @fallenrepublick @princessayveke @queenlagerthaa @starflyer-104 @catsnkooks @tinalbion @brilliantbutbatty  @gczanetti1  @spaghetti-666 @moonsingers  @theclonewarsbrokeme  @amberkay284 @nik-barinova  @amvabril @charbokbok @obiorbenkenobi @theonethatdoesnthavedisneyplus @witchy-goth-unicorn @alwayshappysith @mother-0f-monsters @lastoneoutturnoutthelights @splittothebone @vei-saretti @isabewwwa @latran5k @bvnsolo @sithmando​ 

[adorablele]

killer latte art; l.mh

❦ pairing; lee mark x reader ❦ genre; fluff, just pure cotton candy sweet fluff ❦ word count; 4.2k + (officially my longest fic yet) ❦ summary;  your friends swore to you that this ‘mark’ guy created some killer latte art; however, as you stare at the white blob in your cup, you can’t help but think they were blinded by the sparkle in his eyes. 

HAPPY MARK DAY!!! I hope that he’s eating and sleeping well. I hope that he’s staying hydrated and staying safe. I hope that he’s laughing a bunch and smiling until his cheeks hurt. 

❦ a/n; uhm, so in the process of making this, I fell in love with mark. please enjoy <3

“Alright, that’s pretty much everything.”

“But I haven’t learned how to make lattes yet?” you asked, a little unsure if Jeno, your co-worker, purposefully left out that detail.

He snapped his fingers, “You’re right! Thanks for reminding me.”

“No problem…” you trailed off. He most likely didn’t hear your response, having already focused his attention on someone behind you.

“Mark!” he called out.

The aforementioned barista was currently struggling to tie his apron around his back. He didn’t waste any more time on the task and quickly waved goodbye to a customer before promptly picking up the empty cup left behind. When he made his way over to the counter, he smiled at jeno, “Hey man!” he then turned to you, “and hello newbie.”

You smiled at the bright boy, the curves of his mouth somehow very contagious. Lamely, you waved in return.

“My name is Mark, you can Mark me in your heart,” he greeted. 

In return, he was met with silence. 

You were standing there with a small smile, trying not to dwell on the fact that you were too tongue tied to utter the word ‘hi’ and chose to wave instead. His greeting, albeit quite cheesy, somehow did implant its way into your heart and you refused to open your mouth in case you were to mutter incoherent remarks. With that in mind, you decided to soak in the features of the beaming barista in front of you; simply for observation and not because you thought he was cute, of course. The dazzle of his smile was loud, glimmering like the sun’s reflection on a lake. Your eyes followed the contour of his face, trailing past the apples of his cheeks and to the starry night sky- wait, correction, to his eyes. 

Mark started to awkwardly laugh, “Wow, I- I can’t believe I just said that.”

Jeno cleared his throat, “He makes some killer latte art, so he’ll be the one to teach you.”

It then clicked in your head.

“So you’re the guy that everyone raves about!” you exclaimed.

Mark raises his eyebrows, eyes darting from you to jeno then back to you. He points at himself, “M- me?”

“No, the cup next to you,” you deadpanned.

“Oh…” he frowned, lips pursing slightly.

“No, silly! Of course I’m talking about you,” you laughed.

“Oh,” he chuckled, smile instantly back on his face. The tips of his ears reddened slightly and he turned back to cleaning the cups in the sink. “That’s cool...bro.”

“Yeah, you’re pretty popular. My friends always told me to try your lattes some time. I didn’t realize you worked at Cafe Dream,” you shook your head lightly, “but now, I can see the behind the scenes.”

“Exactly!” Jeno perked up from behind you, “mark, you can show them the ropes of making a latte. I’ll be going now since my shift ended a little bit ago.” Jeno smiled at you, giving you a thumbs up and a ruffle on the head. “Good luck!”

You turned to Mark, surprised to find his eyes already on you. “Alright, are you ready?”

“What’s your favorite latte?”

“Cinnamon dolce latte,” you answered easily.

Mark nodded, checking the cup one last time to make sure it was dry. “Good choice! We’ll be making that today then.”

He had a cute pout on his lips as he scooped tiny bits of espresso. Liveliness swirled in his eyes when he turned to you, mouth moving as he talked about the flat surface that should make an appearance after tampering it. You nodded, not entirely focused on what buttons he was pushing on the machine. Instead, you admired the way his eyebrows slightly furrowed in concentration. He turned to you and you quickly moved your eyes to the brown liquid that no longer dripped from the tubes of the machine. 

“First step done!” he excitedly announced. Mark held one large, round mug in his left hand and held the espresso in the other. He swished the drink and transferred the drink into the porcelain mug. “Once that’s done we’ll warm up the milk,” he promptly took the container of milk, “some high-quality milk.” 

You watched with a raised brow as his hand moved with each word. “Is it now?” you mused. 

He nodded, mouth moving to ramble about how this is the best milk in the business. Mark wasn’t looking at you. His eyes were darting left and right as his heart sped up to be in time with the words that seemed to endlessly flow out of his mouth. He was well aware that he was giving you a ted talk that you didn’t sign up for, but his brain deemed it best to show just how many adjectives he knew to describe milk. 

Amusement was etched in your eyes and to help save the poor boy, you put a hand on his shoulder. “This milk is very good, I understand.”

Rather quickly, his mouth lined shut. Mutely he nodded and pointed to a line in the measuring cup. Once he remembered to finally use his words, Mark’s voice cracked. “This-” he cleared his throat, “you’ll measure it up to here.” You fought the urge to laugh as a wide grin stretched across your face. Of course, you weren’t looking to where he was pointing. No, you were basking in the light hue of red that adorned his cheeks. 

“Oops,” he muttered, chuckling nervously, “it went over the line a little bit…” Your eyes darted down to the cup when he flickered his gaze to you. 

“Relatively there,” you swiftly commented. Heat rose to your face, but you tilted your head at Mark like you weren’t admiring his face a second ago. 

Averting his eyes, he muttered a ‘yeah’ in agreement before turning around to the machine located behind him. Take some mental notes; that’s what your brain was advising you to do. And for the most part, you were. You knew that that lever pushed out the steam and that that spout was where the steam flowed out from. You knew that you had to place the spout a certain way or something to incorporate air into the milk...whirlpools were mentioned? Slowly your interest faded and your eyes wandered away to important information that would help you with keeping this job. 

If all you were going to do was stare the boy, you should’ve applied for a full-time Mark Lee admirer rather than a part-time barista. 

The banging of the cup against the counter caused you to jump out of your thoughts, quite literally. Mark looked at you with round, apologetic eyes, ‘sorry’ sliding between his teeth. His eyebrows rose up a bit, “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Your heart melted at the concern floating in those round pits of warmth he called his eyes.

“It’s okay,” you waved off, slight embarrassment creeping up your neck. He didn’t say anything, simply just keeping his eyes on you. You moved your eyes to the cup of steamed milk in his hand and gestured towards it, “So, that uhm...the milk. The high-quality milk.”

Mark blinked, “Right, yeah! So it should have this glossy texture to it and if there are any bubbles, just make sure to tap it onto the counter.”

You nodded. Anticipation rose high in your chest as he grabbed the white mug with the espresso resting at the bottom. 

“First, tilt the mug to where the espresso is about to come out. It won’t, though,” he reassured, “and then pour a little milk as your base.”

Suddenly, it was really hot in the cafe. Sweat beaded along the line of his hair and he gulped nervously. “Make sure to bring the cup real close,” he instructed, “and I’m not really good at talking while pouring, but I’ll try my best.”

You hummed in acknowledgement and he started to pour. 

“Make sure you aim in the center of the cup. Make sure it’s stable.” 

Going against his own advice, Mark’s hands started to shake, and he hoped you didn’t notice. He tightened his grip on both the cups. Wait, he didn’t know what he was making! A swan? No, it’s too late for that. A tulip? That doesn’t look like an option. It’ll just be a heart, he decided. He focused back on the cup, panic rising when he realized just how fast the coffee was rising.

In your eyes, you had thought everything was flowing just fine; you didn’t see his shaky hands, you didn't notice the indecisiveness in his eyes, you didn’t detect the nervous tilt in his voice. For once, you were actually focused on the task at hand. Everything happened quite quickly, which was quite the opposite in Mark’s eyes. 

He slowly jerked his hand in order to save anything from spilling. Unfortunately, the coffee spilled anyway. It dripped down the rim of the cup, slowly slid down the edge and mocked the tips of his fingers. Though, the sting from the heated liquid was nothing compared to the burn that spread up his neck, passed through his ears and rooted itself in his cheeks.

A wide grin stifled the laugh bubbling in your throat. Embarrassment adorned mark as he shot out apologies like his life depended on it. He went to reach for some napkins, but you placed your hand on his wrist.

“You should go run your hand under cold water,” you suggested, taking the cup from him, “I’ll take care of the drink.”

Sheepishly, he made his way over to the sink. At the same time, you took the napkins he initially reached for and dried the mug. You couldn’t help but chuckle at the blob in the cup; it wasn’t even centered.

Mark walked over to you, hands twisting under a towel, “I’m not usually this messy, I promise.”

“It’s okay,” you giggled, “everyone has their...off days.”

He laughed along with you and nervously rubbed the nape of his neck, “Can you at least tell that it’s a heart.”

You stared hard at the cup.

“Yikes,” he frowned, “that bad?”

“It doesn’t matter,” you excused, “as long as it tastes good, right?”

“I guess,” he shrugged.

You bring the cup up to your lips and, luckily, the drink doesn’t disappoint.

“This is really good!” you praised.

Smiling seemed to come naturally when you were around Mark. How could it not? Especially when his eyes lit up like fireworks during a disney parade.

He stood up straighter, “really?”

“Yeah, it makes up for your quote unquote killer latte art,” you teased.

Mark peered over your shoulder.

“Put it a little closer,” he advised. 

You did as he told you, only lowering the cup full of steamed milk slightly. Without hesitation, he wrapped his hands over yours. The palm of his hand was warm, comfortably covering your own. 

“It should be about this distance.”

Mutely, you nodded. Precipitation made its welcome on your skin and you stared harder at the cup in front of you. Mark’s fingers slightly tightened as he guided you in tilting the cups. He muttered instructions, but they were muffled against the pounding in your ears.

In a matter of seconds, the design was finished, yet his hand was still on yours.

“We did it,” you smiled, gazing proudly at the heart centered in the cup. You turned to look at mark, “Well, I mean, you were the one doing everything-”

“You held the cup!” he interrupted.

“Yeah, that’s true.”

The two of you stood there, side-by-side, hands still touching, and eyes still staring.

“Do you have a map?” Mark asked.

“Uhm, no,” you laughed, “why?

“Because I got lost in your eyes.”

You stared at him in disbelief, “You didn’t.”

“Oh, but I did.”

From across the cafe, Jaemin paused his task of wiping down a table. He chuckled at the scene and turned to Jeno who was fixing the books in the corner library that they recently added. 

“Psst!” 

Jeno dusted off a book.

“Psst!” Jaemin repeated, a little louder this time.

He placed the book back on the shelf. 

“Jeno!” Jaemin drawed out in an annoyed tone.

Jeno jumped. “What?” 

Jaemin rolled his eyes and walked over to the boy. He then nodded towards you and Mark, still standing in close proximity to each other. The light that in your eyes were as bright as Mark’s, and it was comparable to the sun setting in the horizon. 

“Are we sure they’re not dating?” Jeno sighed.

Before Jaemin could answer, a girl walked into the store. The two boys shared a look, smiles wide as the girl stepped closer to the cashier.

Once she stood at the counter, she pushed up her sunglasses. “You guys are a really cute couple!” she commented with a grin.

Jaemin snorted while Jeno held in his laugh when you and Mark jumped away from each other. In the process, you managed to successfully spill the latte on your shirt. Mark’s eyes widened and he quickly grabbed some tissues. He dabbed, once, twice, three times before he stopped.

At the same time, Jeno and Jaemin bursted out laughing. Mark sputtered apologies to you, practically throwing napkins in your direction before turning to the customer waiting at the counter. 

With a flushed face, Mark opened his mouth to explain that the two of you were not dating. However, the only thing that came out of his mouth was, “Boss?”

Your eyes widened. You peeked over at said ‘boss’ and realized that she was indeed the lady who hired you, also known as, the owner of Cafe Dream.

 Kara tsked. “Mark, it’s okay to spend time with your significant other, just don’t act all lovey-dovey during your shift.”

“Boss we’re not-”

“Surprise me with a latte Mark,” she instructed, “I’d like to request a swan please.”

“Yes ma’am,” he sighed. 

Jeno and Jaemin shook their heads as small laughs continued to fall out of their mouths. Mark glared at them from the counter to which they responded with a mock of the previous position that you and him were in.

Jaemin leaned into Jeno's arms, holding the empty coffee mug in his hand and looked up at Jeno dramatically. “Oh handsome one, do you have a map?” he exaggerated.

“I do wish I did, but, as the fates have it, I do not,” Jeno solemnly replied, head bowed and hands also holding the coffee mug in Jaemin’s hands.

Jaemin turned to Mark with a wide grin, “Ah what a shame! It seems that I’ll just forever be lost in your eyes.”

Mark pursed his lips and decided to ignore his obnoxious friends.

The following week was filled with awkwardness.

You and Mark would take turns glancing at one another, only for the both of you to turn at the same time before quickly looking away. You would share small ‘hellos’ and ‘goodbyes’ when the two of you passed each other. Red faces and shy apologies always made an appearance when some sort of physical contact was ever made. 

“Is there a reason why you’re avoiding him?” Jaemin asked you one day when you insisted that you needed help with creating a seven stacked tulip. 

“I’m not avoiding him,” you shrugged.

“Really?” he asked, “so you wouldn’t mind if I called him over?”

“Sure,” you replied nonchalantly.

“Okay, hey Ma-”

“I’m just kidding!” you yelped, glaring at Jaemin. 

“Thought so,” he stated smugly.

You rolled your eyes at him, “whatever.”

“So, back to the original question.”

You frowned at the misshapen tulip in your mug, “Because…”

Jaemin gave you an unimpressed look, “Do you not like him?”

“What? No!”

He raised his brows and glanced at the customers in the cafe who turned their head at the commotion. “That’s a very strong no.”

You apologized with a quick bow before turning to Jaemin. “Isn’t it obvious I like him?”

Jaemin snorted, “Yeah, you practically have heart eyes everytime you look at him.”

“Which is exactly why I’m avoiding him.”

He was now confused. “I don’t get it.”

 “I’m sure that last week he understood that I liked him and he’s been awkward around me since; therefore, I can conclude that he doesn’t like me back,” you explained, leaving behind a puzzled jaemin to process your words while you served a customer your messed up tulip.

When you walked back to the still bewildered Jaemin, he asked, “And did you ask him?”

“Ask him what?”

“If he knew you liked him?”

You laughed, “What are you crazy? Of course I didn’t!”

“So how do you know that he’s avoiding you because he doesn’t like you back?”

“Why else would he be avoiding me, Jaem?”

“Because he likes you and thinks that you don’t like him back,” he answered with a gleaming smile.

You gave him a ‘really?’ look.

He shrugged, “Miscommunication happens all the time.”

You shook your head, “I’m sure this is properly communicated to me; and the message is that I ruined my friendship with Mark.”

“Guess we’ll have to turn to the storage room,” Jaemin sighed, sending an exasperated look to Jeno.

The storage room. 

It’s a nice, small space that can comfortably fit, at max, two people. It was filled with, as you might expect, extra ingredients and supplies needed to run the cafe. There was a small light switch, hidden behind the box of brown sugar on the third shelf located in the back of the closet. Usually, you would just leave the door of the room propped open instead of delving in deep to turn on the light – it was easier for you. 

You frowned and sighed for the nth time. Jaemin had told you that the ingredients for his rice milk latte were gathered in a blue bag hidden in the back shelf. ‘Around the same area as the light switched,’ he referenced. But you just couldn’t find it. 

Suddenly, you heard the door close. 

“Very funny Jaemin,” you muttered, standing up and turning around to open back up the door.

However, you ran into something, or rather, someone.

You screamed and jumped back. You continued moving away from the unknown entity in the closet. Your hand frantically pushed the ingredients off the back shelf to find the light switch.

“Y/n.”

 You paused.

“Y/n, calm down. It’s just me.”

You heard footsteps coming closer to you. “Don’t move!”

The steps paused. You resumed trailing your hand against the wall and finally found the light switch. Upon flicking it on, you saw that the guy was not lying to you; it really was Mark.

“Oh thank the heavens up above,” you whispered, relief washing over you. Without a second thought, you rushed forward and wrapped your arms tightly around his torso. Mark, on the other hand, stood there in shock. When you realized what you were doing, you quickly let go.

You cleared your throat, “Sorry.”

He lightly chuckled, “No, you’re fine.”

Crickets.

“So, uhm, we should probably get back to work, huh?” you suggested.

“Yeah! Of- of course,” Mark smiled, turning around to open the door. He chuckled nervously, continuing to twist the door knob.

“It’s not opening, is it?” you asked.

“No.”

You cursed Jaemin under your breath. “We’re locked in here,” you stated. 

“Yep.”

Clicking your tongue, you made your way over to the door and started pounding on it. “Jaemin, open the door!”

No answer.

“I know you can hear me!” you shouted, fist against the wood never seizing.

Still no answer.

Just as you were about to shout again, Mark spoke. “I’m sorry.”

“That you scared me? It’s fine, I should’ve turned on the lights right away,” you waved off.

“No, I’m sorry that I’ve been avoiding you.”

You stood there, limbs unmoving and back faced towards him.

“I just- we- you-” Mark sighed, “I really like you. Like, like-like you. Like more than a friend.”

If you weren’t bewildered by his confession, you would’ve teased him about the amount of times he used the word like. You turned around and pointed an accusatory finger at him, “Did Jaemin tell you to say that?”

He furrowed his brows, “Wha- no!”

You leaned back with squinted eyes and crossed arms, “was it jeno?

“It...it wasn’t Jeno either,” he answered, scratching the nape of his neck. 

“Mark, if you’re messing with me-“

“Why would I do that?” he asked, voice soft, “why would I confess something that could potentially destroy our friendship?” Mark shook his head, “I understand that you don’t feel the same way, but-“

“Woah woah woah,” you interrupted, “I never said I didn’t like you back.”

He tilted his head, mouth opening before shutting close.

“I’m just...suspicious of your truth,” you squint. 

Mark laughs. His shoulders shake, his feet shuffle, his hands clap and the joyous sound propels out from his wide opened mouth. He slightly scrunches his nose in a lovable manner, eyes crescents as he starts to calm down.

You watched in admiration and, also, concern. 

He starts to walk towards you, top row of his teeth still shone bright as the corners of his mouth curved upwards. You don’t pull away when he takes your hands in his. Softly, his calloused fingers slot themselves in between your own.

“I’m so relieved!” he exclaimed, head thrown back. 

“Are you just going to leave me in confusion or…” you trailed off. Disappointment swirled in your stomach when he let go of one of your hands, but it turned into butterflies when he cupped your face.

“I can reassure you that I like you and it was my decision to confess. No Jeno, no Jaemin, no one told me to say anything,” he paused, “unless… you consider my heart as someone.”

You chuckled.

“Then I guess you could say that my heart told me to tell you that you-”

“Mark, I get it.”

He smiled, “Right. Rambling again, huh? I seem to do that a lot, but mostly around you. During my freshman year when I was presenting-”

You gave him a look.

He cleared his throat, “So, do you like me?”

“Do I-” you stared at him, flabbergasted. You sniffled lowly and turned you head, hoping you looked like you were gazing off cooly in the distance. With a nonchalant shrug, you mimicked the way Mark favored the word ‘like.’

“Yeah. I like you like a little bit, you know, like nothing major.”

“I’m just going to ignore the fact that you attacked me for no reason.”

“Do like what you want, it’s like whatever, you know,” you grinned teasingly.

He shot you a playfully disappointed look. “Is it too late to take back the fact that I like you?”

“Well, it wouldn’t be fair if you marked yourself in my heart and then just decided to leave.”

“Oh my- you still remember that?” he whined.

“My name is Mark, you can Mark me in your heart,” you winked. 

He shook his head, “Gross.”

“Such a way with words,” you teased, “so poetic. Shakespeare is shaking.”

More breathy laughs were exchanged between the two of you before silence enveloped the room. His hand was still comforting your face and your stomach was still filled with butterflies. You felt like your heart would leap out of your chest when he started to lean in; his wide, doe eyes slowly closing shut. You mirrored his actions and started to lean in too.

“Why is the door locked?” someone asked from outside.

The both of you jolted forward at the noise, foreheads bumping roughly. With a wince, you turned towards the intruder.

Jeno’s eyes widened and he muttered a quick apology before closing the door. It didn’t shut, however, because he pushed it back open and grinned at the doorway. 

“Nice!” he nodded, “you guys made up-”

Anything else he was about to say was cut off by you. 

“Go Mark, do it!” you shouted, arms clinging around Jeno in hopes to hold him down.

Mark was quick to move and started to noogie Jeno. 

“Ow, ow, ow! Hey, I’m not the one who locked the door, alright? Jaemin was the mastermind behind all of this!” Jeno tried to explain.

“But you still pushed me in the room!” Mark frowned, stopping his poor revenge on the boy.

You let go of the victim and scanned the cafe. 

Many of the customers were staring at the fiasco in amusement; however, there was one specific person who looked annoyed. You didn’t pay that person any mind, focusing on the barista untying his apron. 

“Would you look at the time?” Jaemin nervously laughed, “it’s my break!”

He gently placed his untied apron on the counter by the register and smiled at you, “Gotta blast!”

And you would’ve chased after the blue haired boy who ran out of the cafe, but that one annoyed customer approached the counter. 

“You know, I keep telling myself ‘I hired them for a reason,’ so please,” Kara said carefully, “prove me right.”

She sternly squinted at you, then to Mark, and lastly, to Jeno.

“What about Jaemin-” Mark started.

“Should you really be worried about him right now?” 

“No boss.”

Kara nodded and smiled sweetly at the three of you. “Are drinks on the house?”

[honeypirate]

Chocolate Jinx

Tendou x f!reader

So I know time skip he’s a chocolatier in paris. But in this fic he’s in Sendai. It’s how I wrote it before I even remembered he’s in Paris and I don’t feel like changing the whole story now.

Your breaths came out in puffs, each inhale and exhale lasting four of your steps as you ran down the sidewalk, counting as you ran so you could focus on your stamina, inhale one two exhale one two. Towards the chocolate shop that you had an appointment at, an appointment that you are currently late for. "shit shit shit" ran through your head like a prayer that would somehow make you run faster. You knew that you would be late, your mom had asked you to help her with her grocery shopping since your father wouldn't be able to do it for her today, you couldn't say no, you couldn't tell her about this appointment because it was a secret, a surprise for her that will be special goddam it!

You open the door and step into the air conditioned shop, the scent of chocolate hitting your nose making you smile "y/n?" a voice asks, when you finally make eye contact with the man behind the counter you smile "Tendou?" you ask with a breathless chuckle "I’m so sorry I’m late I know it‘s not very professional and I can explain" he chuckles and cocks his head "but? you're not late? Our lesson isn’t for another twenty minutes” "what?!" you exclaim and then laugh, still breathless, as you place your hands on your knees and bending over a little to catch your breath. "This whole time I thought Iwas ten minutes late. I have it written down that it’s 3 but now that you said that I remember" he laughs and walks around the counter holding out a bottle of water "no worries, we can start early if you would like, water?" you nod and take the bottle from him "thank you! I’m glad I’m not late but don't let me bother you if you have other things to do before our lesson." you take a drink and your throat thanks you for the relief.

Tendou turns the shop sign to closed, then locks the door. "it's no issue. when you’ve caught your breath from your run" he chuckles "we can start. Come with me and I will show you where to put your things and give you an apron. did you bring a hat?" you nod and pull one out of your back pocket as you walk behind him, following him into the kitchen. its an old black Yankies baseball cap, you hold the bottle under your arm as you pull your (h/c) back into a low pony before putting the hat on.

"You can put your jacket and things in the office here, there’s a bathroom in the back to the right, aaand.." he reaches up on a shelf and gets down a white apron "here is this, i'll wait for you in the kitchen whenever you're ready" you take off your hoodie, leaving you in a black blouse with flowy long sleeves that you roll up along with your black skinny jeans with the ankles tightly rolled and a pair of checkered vans, you leave your things on the seat of the chair in the office before making your way out to the kitchen again.

You put the apron around your neck with a smile, tying it around your back as you stood next to him at a counter top. In front of you were a few ingredients, cocoa, cocoa butter, chocolate liquor, sugar, as well as a few others and multiple tools. “Ready?” He asks with a smile and you nod “ready!”

“So since you booked the premium one on one lesson, instead of just teaching you to be a chocolatier and just making things out of chocolate, I will also show you how to make the chocolate, so mixing the ingredients, heating, and tempering. I’ve laid out all of the ingredients so we’re ready to go. We will both be doing the same things together so you can see what it’s supposed to look like.” You nod and bounce a little excitedly in your toes “let’s do this!” He gets you set up in your station across from his and goes through the tools with you and after that he talks about how you get from cocoa nuts to chocolate.

He starts his speech that you can tell he’s said hundreds of times “Chocolate is a product that requires complex procedures to produce. The process involves harvesting coca, refining coca to cocoa beans, and shipping the cocoa beans to the manufacturing factory for cleaning, coaching and grinding.” You’re watching him as he speaks, how he moves his hands while he talks, you’re trying to pay attention to the history of your favorite candy that fascinated you as well as admire the handsome man in front of you. His long fingers and expressive eyes, the way he obviously loved his job, he was beautiful. You realize you weren’t paying attention and zone back into his speech and hope he didn’t notice you zone out.

“needs to be harvested manually in the forest. The seed pods of coca are first be collected; they will be selected and placed in piles. These cocoa beans will then be ready to be shipped to the manufacturer for mass production.” You raise your hand a little and he chuckles before nodding at you “Why picked by hand?” he smiles brightly at you, like you’re the first to actually care about the history and ask questions, “good question! The answer is that machines could damage the tree or the clusters of flowers and pods that grow from the trunk, so workers must harvest the pods by hand, using short, hooked blades mounted on long poles to reach the highest fruit.” You smile “what comes next?” He looks so much more passionate about this now that you asked a question, now that you’ve truly shown your interest, before he was going through the motions of the many classes he has taught before to the same people who don’t ask anything just zone out until the cooking starts.

“Well after the cocoa pods are collected into baskets, they are taken to a processing house. Here they are split open and the cocoa beans are removed. Pods can contain upwards of 50 cocoa beans each!” He’s gets more animated as he goes along, you found him to be the most adorable man you’ve ever met. “then the beans undergo the fermentation processes. They are either placed in large, shallow, heated trays or covered with large banana leaves. If the climate is right, they may be simply heated by the sun. Workers come along periodically and stir them up so that all of the beans come out equally fermented.” “How long does that usually take?” You notice him get ever more excited with another question asked “usually 5-8 days” his smile is so gorgeous it makes your stomach flip.

"Chocolate factories take these cocoa beans and use machinery to break down the cocoa beans into cocoa butter, cocoa liquor, and cocoa powder. All which we will be using today.” You match his energy now, excited to be able to learn this today. “Amazing!” Your smile mirroring his. He tells you how much of the ingredients to add to the bowl to double boil and you’re whisking it together as it melts, talking with him was easy as you followed his directions. “So why have you wanted to learn about chocolate?” His eyes are on his bowl as he asks and you flick your eyes up to his face, studying his handsome features as you whisk in the same pace as he is, you’re admiring his fingers as he holds his whisk, his other hand resting the counter, when you look back to his eyes you find him looking at you with a smirk, you blush a little embarrassed as you respond “My grandpa used to be a chocolatier but since he’s in America and unable to make it now, I can’t have him teach me. My mom's birthday is coming up and I thought it would be a nice gift, to give her some handmade chocolate” he smiles wide “that’s so nice of you! I’m sure your mom will really love that” he says “Now we should be ready to temper it so grab your pot and follow me over to the marble counter”

“So to temper, you need to cool it by spreading it out and then folding it into itself to build the right kind of proteins, after it gets thicker we will warm it back up and it should be ready to mold” you nod and reach up to turn your hat backwards so you can see better before taking a spatula from him. “Follow my lead” he begins to pour two thirds of his chocolate out on one side of the marble countertop which was about six feet in length giving you both enough space to work side by side. You pour yours like he does and begin to work it back and forth, copying him. “That’s good!” He points out and you blush “thank you!” You chuckle “I have an amazing teacher” you wink at him, the blush rising to his cheeks makes your heart race so you turn your attention back to spreading the chocolate.

You finish tempering the chocolate and adding it back to the pot, using the still hot water underneath with the third of still warm chocolate to raise the temperature to the right consistency. “I thiiink” you stretch out the word, a little embarrassed to admit what you’re about to admit, “Tendou I think I screwed something up” your eyebrows are furrowed looking into your mixture that has now began to look grainy. He comes closer and looks over your shoulder “hmmm” he says and you look up into his eyes, your expression a little anxious “it’s seized a bit, but don’t worry we can probably fix it and if we can’t we can start over!” He smiles and you and you feel some tension drain from you, for some reason you felt like this would be easy and now that you’re having a hard time, you felt tense. if you ruin this you will just buy some chocolate from here but it wouldn't be the same.

He grabs some of the cocoa butter from the other counter and brings it over to you, "lets add a little more cocoa butter and mix it together, it should come back-" you stir and it incorporates but it doesn't get better "ahh I guess not." he laughs "must have been too hot still and too much steam, no worries, let's start over!" his cheery attitude made you smile. It’s like he doesn’t really mind that you just wasted these ingredients. That he’s just happy to be teaching you and helping you. "If I fail again, I don't want to waste anymore of your ingredients, okay?" he quirks his eyebrows as he throws away your ruined chcolate " I think I should be the one to decide what to do with the ingredients y/n" he cocks his head and smiles brightly "we will make it until it's perfect! for your dear mom!" your heart beats quickly in your chest, this sweet man, you felt butterflies flood your stomach "thank you Tendou" you smile with your eyes closed and he about dies with how cute you are.

After four more tries you sigh and throw your arms in the air "Tendou I think I'm a chocoalte makers jinx! You are a superb teacher and you make amazing choclate, even with your help at the end it still siezes" your voice is frustrated and overwhelmed as you place your hands on your hips and stare at the, once again, siezed chcocolate. "lets go through it one more time, I'm sure you can get it this time!" he says with the same amount of energy he had in the beginning. you look at him with wide eyes for a second before they soften and you smile at him "you are the sweetest guy, do you know that? okay. one more time, but if I dont get it then I’m paying you for all these ingredients" he laughs, his cheeks blushing, as he cleans out your bowl for the fifth time "ya know what they say y/n! a sixth time is a charm!" you chuckle and shake your head before finding yourself back next to him by the stove.

"you have the ingredients and steps memorized now huh?" he laughs as you add the right ingredients to the bowl of the double boiler."I will most likely always remember these ingredients and this experience" you laugh with him and slowly whisk the mixture together as it melts. "wait" he says just now noticing how youre whisking "try it like this" he walks around you and places his hand on yours, holding the whisk and your hand, slowing down your stirring so it was more gentle and smooth, your heart racing as you feel his strong hand on the back of yours "o-okay. thanks Tendou'' your voice is quiet since he's so close. "yes, this is perfect now, lets temper it" his voice was soft and right by your ear, your cheeks get warm and your voice stutters again when you respond "o-okay"

He lets go of your hand and you go over to the marble slab again, pouring out two thirds again, and using a spatula to smooth it out, again. "is.. is this right? I'm doing this right?" you’re secretly hoping he grabs your hand again to help you but you don't think he'll take the bait, how wrong you were. When his hand covers yours once more you gasp softly and smile as he guides your hand back and forth through the chocolate "like this, it’s close. usually people use a thermometer but since I've done this so long it's by feel for me" you're looking at him from the side of your eye with a smile on your lips, his eyes are hooded as he smiles wistfully at the chocolate, his cheeks are dusted pink and his hand on yours is slightly clammy like he's nervous.

To be honest he was nervous, here’s this beautiful woman who he's been teaching for the last two almost three hours now, who's flirting with him and who is kind and funny, and who is so incredibly bad at making chocolate. If this fails he’ll never let you pay for ingredients. He will just offer you another class and hope you accept. "it’s perfect, now" he lets go of your hand and studies your sweet face as you scrape the tempered chocolate into your bowl, you hope your face wasn't as red as it felt.

You go to stir it all together slowly before pausing and looking up at him with a shy smile, "maybe.. you could.. help me with this too?" his eyes widen and his cheeks flush "of course" he moves to stand behind you, looking down at the bowl over your shoulder, his left hand over yours holding the whisk and his right arm around you, his hand holding the bowl halfway over yours, he whisks slow and smooth, his breath hitting above your ear, your voice quiet with his proximity "have you always been good at this?" his chuckles quietly "no I actually struggled a lot in culinary school. I fell in love with chocolate though so I never gave up." your cheeks are so warm you're sure you looked like a tomato "I like that determination, plus you ended up with the most popular and delicious chocolate shop so you're definitely in the right line of work." he blushes with your praise "thank you." he goes quiet as the chocolate finally looks correct "look!" you exclaim "look Tendou! it's perfect! it's shiny and amazing! I did it! I’m a chocolatier!" you’re bouncing on your toes and in his arms as you dance in excitement "time for the molds!" he exclaims and lets you go, moving away so you could go pour your batch into the already set up molds, the only empty ones on the row, the ones he used for his batches already set up.

You pour the chocolate slowly into the heart shaped molds that already have macadamia nuts in each one, after they are full you scrape the top like he showed you when he made his last four batches and put the excess back in the bowl. "these should be set in about an hour if we put them in the fridge but that will be pretty late, you could come back tomorrow to pick them up if you would rather that" he says and takes your bowl, putting the excess in a random mold and then putting the bow and utensils in the sink.

You pull your phone from your back pocket and gasp at the missed texts “oh no. yeah that would be better. I'm supposed to walk home with my brother from his volleyball practise but I lost track of time here with you. shit. i'm sorry i really wanted to stay and help clean up and talk but i have to go" you frown until you meet his eye, they're looking at you inquisitively with a huge smile, "volleyball? what school does he go to?" he asks not even caring about cleaning up alone "oh! he goes to Shiritorizowa. he’s a second year middle blocker! hes quite good although I’m not very knowledgeable about it" you chuckle and then full laugh when he gets extremely excited "that was my school and my position! whats his number?" you raise your eyebrows and get as excited as him, steping towards each other at the same time "hes number 5" "NO WAY!" he shouts and laughs "that was my number! what a small world!" you gaze into his eyes and smile softly "this is so cool. you have no idea how much i want to continue this conversaton but i really have to go" you frown and look back to your phone "how long will you be here tonight?" you look back up into his eyes and he’s cocked his head "probably a while, have to make tomorrow's candies. why?" you grin "can I come back? I’ll walk my brother home and then would you mind if I came back? I could help you and I could get my chocolates for my mom" he grins "that would be great. I would love that" he says, your butterflies return to your stomach "perfect!" you take off your apron and hand it to him "i really had an amazing time here. you’re a great teacher even if i was a jinx five times. i'll see you in like forty minutes max!" you exclaim before running out of the kitchen, unlocking the front door, and running down towards the school, your phone already ringing calling your brother. Tendou walked up front and locked the door again, chuckling softly and thinking about how cute you are. he cant wait to see you again when you return.

when you and your brother get home you stop at the door "do you mind if i bring a friend to your next game?" he shrugs "yeah sure I don't care. wait. do you mean a friend or a boyfriend?” you laugh at his accusatory look "it's a boy but he's not my boyfriend. He used to play the same position and team when he was in high school. I thought it would be nice" your brother lights up "yeah that's so cool! bring him so I can ask him tips! are you coming in?" he has the door open halfway and you shake your head "i have to go finish mom's birthday project" he nods "okay i'll cover for you" you thank him and make your way back to the handsome redhead.

You take off your hat and run your fingers through your hair, shoving the hat in your back pocket again before you knock softly.

A soft knock to the door catches his attention and his heart races "finally" he says softly before walking out to the front, surely enough there you stand, with a smile on your lips and your arms around your body hugging yourself in the cold he smiles bigger when you wave at him, you were sooo cute. he unlocked the door and let you in, locking it again behind you "welcome back y/n" "glad to be back" he chuckles as he gazes down at you, your cheeks flushed and nose red from the cold. "i forgot my hoodie" you shiver and he reaches out, placing his hands on your arms and rubbing them up and down to create friction "do you want some hot chocolate?" you nod excitedly and he chuckles again, your cuteness will be the death of him, "come, sit, i'll make us some" he leads you to a table by the counter and begins to prepare two cups of cocoa.

Now that you have more time since you’re not focused on seizing chocolate, you study his face as he works. he had sharp features that made him so beautiful, beautiful red eyes, he had his hat off now, his red hair disheveled and all over the place but you loved it, you wanted to play with it. His uniform jacket was off, leaving him in a black t-shirt, he had long arms that were lithe and strong. "Do you want to come to my brother's volleyball game with me?" your eyes widen, a little shocked that it just came flying out, you didn’t mean to ask him now. He chuckles at your expression, he's been able to read you so well, you keep everything on the surface and he really likes that. "like a date?" he asks as he returns his attention to pouring the hot chocolate mixture in the cups. you laugh "I don't know if it qualifies as a date, just meaning like, it's not very romantic. maybe we can have a real date after that" you say and his smile widens "you have no idea how much I’d love that" he makes his way over to sit by you, placing a saucer with a cup of hot chocalte and a biscotti in front of you "i'm glad! I was really hoping you would say yes" you chuckle and then hum in delight as you bring the cup to your lips, the smell enveloping you even more than it does just being inside the shop.

You take a sip and find the chocolate to be perfectly sweetened with a touch of cinnamon and chilli, it was perfect, not too hot not too cold. "this is so amazing Tendou. thank you so much" you take another sip, feeling it warm you from the inside out, he smiles warmly "you're welcome. i'm glad you like it!” He wiggles his eyebrows at you “so about this date you're taking me on'' he takes a sip of his own while maintaining eye contact over the rim of the glass "when is it happening?" he smiles as he watches your cheeks blush "oh! his game is in a week. the preliminaries for nationals" the look of excitment in his eyes makes you laugh, makes your heart race and your stomach feel the familiar butterflies that seem to be constantly around when you’re with him. "the prelims! I am so there!" his excitement causes his leg to bump into yours, causing you to spill some of your hot chcolate "oh my god I’m so sorry! I get a little excited and don’t realize sometimes. i've been told its annoying" you shake your head and reach out, grabbing his hand from the air "no. it's not annoying. I like it. you're like a breath of fresh air to me" you smile warmly looking into his eyes. his heartbeat is rapid and his breath hitches. "you’re so sweet, do you know that?" his voice is a whisper and you blush, recognizing your words you used earlier. "I do know that. Doesn't it make sense then that someone as sweet as me would date a chocolatier?" you cock your head as you tease him, smiling warmly watching his cheeks flush, your hand is still in his and he brings it gently to the table, brushing his thumb over your knuckles, your breath hitches and you feel your cheeks flush “saturday, their game is at 1 but i'll be there from the beginning in the morning. do you wanna meet me there for just his game or..?" he finishes off his drink "I’ll be there in the morning! if you dont mind! We can spend the whole day together and after that we can get dinner together at this new italian place downtown. I think you’ll love it.” He stands and takes your empty cup from you "that sounds amazing, Tendou. I know my brother will want to ask you questions and ask for tips so it's perfect. Plus pasta is my favorite” you chuckle and stand from the table to follow him over to the sink “what can I help you with tonight?" he smiles at you and shakes his head "I actually finished everything quickly, considering I did make five batches of chocolate earlier” he chuckles ”other than these dishes I am done for the night. maybe I could walk you home?" he’s turned to put the cups and saucers away, his back is to you when he asks and you're grateful he cant see the crazed happy smile on your lips "yes please!" you get a little embarrassed with your excitment and feel your cheeks flush even more "let me just go grab your hoodie and chocolate from the back and we can head out" he says and dissapears in the back again.

You pull out your phone and send a quick text to your best friends that consisted of many exclamations. When he returned you beamed up at him "ready?" he asks "ready" you put on the hoodie he hands you and exit the shop with him, he locks the door and then turns to you "uhh where do you live?" he chuckles and scratches the back of his neck "I live in the new apartments that are down near the school" he laughs "no way. That's where I live too! this is so.. cool" his voice is soft, completely blown away by how perfect everything has been. how completely meant to be it seems. a feeling he would have many times as he gets to know you, many times as your relationship grows. a feeling that warms his bones and makes him realize what he's been missing for so long. He'd give your brother all the tips he has and train with him whenever he needed. he’d make you chocolate surprises every day, ultimately finding your all time favorite, white chocolate raspberry bonbons. he’d make them for you for every special occasion and make your mom anything she ever wants. It’s like in this moment he could see every possibility with you, he couldn’t wait to get to know every part of you.

But for tonight, he’ll wait for the right moment to hold your hand on this walk, he’ll ask you questions about your family and your job, he’ll get your number and kiss your cheek at your door, and he’ll think about you every second until he gets to see you again.