#I literally need to go outside and start howling at the moon

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Inside you, there are two wolves:

[hotluncheddie]

✨hello✨ I’m havin thoughts again and now you bear the brunt of them (I’m so sorry it’s because your writing makes me feral 😈)-

Just thinkin about how Steve would be the service top to end all service tops- like that man would be *so* invested in his partners pleasure yk, like that man gets off on getting his partner off

So enter Eddie- and maybe Eddie’s never had a relationship like this before, where they’re properly dating and all that. And then maybe for whatever reason, Eddie gains weight, gets chubby, a belly, thicker thighs n all that sexy shit,

And Steve is just like 👹🥵😍🥰😘 because now there’s more?? For him to discover??? About Eddie??? And he just gets so invested in seeing how different parts of Eddie get more sensitive, how different positions work better for them, and basically just Steve having the absolute time of his LIFE because all he wants is for Eddie to feel good and it’s like every wet dream he’s ever had:

someone allowing him in and discovering everything they like *with him* and he likes Eddie soooo much and he’s just so happy that the person who’s letting him in is Eddie!! And he gets to do this with Eddie!! And Eddie likes Steve so much too, and he just feels so comfy with Steve because Steve always makes him feel so good about himself✨

Anyways this started as something smutty and then I had to insert schmoopy ass shit into it at the very end because I’m literally incapable of having any other thoughts??? So now I’m leaving this here I’m so sorry

AAAAAAAAAAAAA  *goes outside* *rips all my clothes off* *fucking howls at the moon* 

dude!! don’t apologise!!! thank you thank you for sharing such big brain JUICY thoughts with meeeee!!!! 

i’m just obsessed with like service top steve, service mouth steve, service dom steve like feeds into his praise kink SO well. just wants eddie to feel GOOD. steve just loves hearing it and seeing it and making it happen, just makes him so HARD, fucking LEAKING over the noises and faces he gets eddie to make. 

and like i just have this image of newly chubby eddie wearing his leather jacket, maybe going to steves work to talk to him. but his new belly is peeking out the front, pushing the flaps of the jacket apart and steve just sees it and in his head he’s going crazy. because this eddie is so hot and still so confident and so happy because everything's over and he can relax and god his jeans look so good now with all the meat eddie has on his thighs and steve is just a blushy stammering mess.

like steve who’s just obsessed with being able to bury himself between eddie’s newly thick thighs, them squeezing his head and he’s just able to open his mouth and taste and feel. and maybe his hearing has gone a bit but its okay because eddie is SO loud all the time so steve can always hear what feels good. and eddie never stops taking never stops telling him how good he is, how amazing and perfect it feels. 

maybe they’ve not been dating that long and steve’s just still fixated on the fact that he fucking loves sucking dick. but maybe eddie gets kinda insecure. ‘i barely ever even to touch you stevie’ and steve goes so red because he didn’t really realise it was so noticeable but, like, he just doesn't need eddie to do anything back, because he always gets off on eddie’s moans the feeling of eddie around him and it just the perfect environment for him to rut against the mattress and finish. mind and body foggy and gooey and delicious. he’s ruined so many pyjama pants that way. 

and when he tells eddie all that, eddie just gets gooey and calls him cute and kisses him silly. but then eddie makes a point of spending some nights on just steve, making him moan, whispering the praise right in his ear so he really gets it, knows how good eddie feels with him, how much he thinks about steve when he's alone with just his hand (oh and steve would just LOVE that, getting eddie off even when they’re apart). eddie making them switch positions so eddie can see the look on steve face when he finally tips over the edge. 

or maybe eddie’s had like a little experience with a couple random guys just from like parties here and there. but it always felt like he was performing, like he had to put on a roll, like he couldn’t really enjoy himself. he always had to pay to much attention to if the other guy still liked him, was still into it. so he had fun, got off but it was never a space where he could really let go. but with steve, with steve its like his fucking soul is being bared.  

because steve is just so obsessed with eddie loosing himself and just enjoying it. like steve has to spell it out a bit but eventually eddie gets that steve gets most turned on by eddie being truly in it. just thinking and moving in whatever way feels good. and eddie leans into it. same way he leans into his weight gain. he likes how it feels, how his body has changed, likes eating and doesn’t wanna stop. and steve is SO SO into that, eddie being happy and comfortable and it’s just makes everything hotter. so eddie gets naked way more, wants to try different positions, see what feels best. finds out that he has all these new sensitive parts, all these bits that just light up where steve squeezes them with his big, massive hands. likes slipping into sub space sometimes because he just knows steve will always take care of him. it just feels good, makes them both feel so good. 

like they are the ultimate switch couple, you KNOW they’re trying out every dynamic under the sun, just for the fun of it. pushing matching kinks and playing around to find more kinks and it would just be so fun and gooey and full of love. like so many nights these set ups and bits of foreplay just turn into one sinking into the other, holding each others hands and looking into each others eyes and just making love. 

and i feel like i mention this all the time but i’m obsessed with chubby stoner eddie who just likes snacking on the couch with the tv on and steve under his arm. and i think steve would get a little hot just watching eddie be comfy and indulging and the way him getting full makes his t-shirts fit and i just know that steve would sink to his knees and suck eddie off while eddie just keeps doing what he’d doing.

full horny stoner bf meets sometimes stoned oral fixation bf who loves giving head and loves feeling a belly press against his forehead while he’s doing it. match made it fucking heaven. 

and like chubby whiny eddie who just wants to get looked after because he’s worked a letting these walls he’s built down. knows now that he has someone he can be loved by and he needs to accept it and keep it. because its special, steve is special. and steve who just so so wants to do that for him. has all this love in him that he’s never had reciprocated until now, and he just want to give and look after and be good. so when eddie is full and sleepy and squirming on the couch, just begging steve to fuck him. steve so happily obliges because when eddie wants to get fucked steve is at his fucking service. and its always so good and so hot and so full of love. 

(this was so many tangent parts aaaaa sorry!! and sorry the reply took to long i kept just getting little lines in here and there until i felt like i kinda answered it???) 

[pizzatheif]

he’s fourteen and his life is about to change — or so his dad says. they’re in the woods near jenny jump, and hugo’s got the heebie-jeebies. everyone’s heard the story of jenny jump, why did his dad think this would be a good campsite? why did billy-boy think hugo wanted to go camping, anyway? just to learn stupid wendy is stupid-pregnant with a sister he never asked for?

it could’ve been a phone call while hueg stood in his mom’s kitchen, perusing an open fridge and winding the cord around his finger like she did when she was bored.

only good thing is that the full moon makes it easy to take a piss at 1am. he can still hear the distant snoring of his father, tucked away on a blowup mattress in his six-hundred dollar tent. hugo scoffs, rustling around — pausing only when something rustles… louder.

why is he frozen to the spot? the hair on the back of his neck stands on end and he’s urging himself to run, hoots. book it back to dad, now.

( he hardly has time to whimper ).

hugo wakes up in a cold sweat, covered in his own blood. he doesn’t remember how he got back to his cheap, polyester sleeping bag, but he can hear bill grumbling outside of the tent.

he’s shaking as he unzips the door and steps out into the mid-morning light.

“you think this is funny, hugo?” is how he’s greeted.

teeth chattering, he runs the sleeve of his hoodie under his nose and shrugs. “d-depends on if it makes you mad.”

“you got blood all over the tent. how am i supposed to get that clean?”

“i think i got bit by a bear,” he has no reason to think so, but he’s hiking up his shirt as he’s hit with a sudden jolt of fear, teeth flashing in his head.

“absolutely ridiculous,” comes the sharp reply, “first, you give yourself a nose bleed, fail to clean yourself up, and then you try to blame it on an imaginary bear? and all because i was trying to spend genuine time with you. christ, this is a new low.”

“you say that like we aren’t two steps away from sussex. we’re literally in the woods, dad. bears live here.” but there aren’t any marks to prove his point. his shirt is off and he’s spinning in a circle to see if there’s any proof on his back. and, yeah, he’s ignoring the way his father’s words feel like a knife to the chest.

“hugo bartholomew, you cut this shit out now or else.”

a scoff, “or else what, you’ll drop me at mom’s and ignore me for another seven months?”

he knows he’s made a mistake when he finally stops spinning and looks toward his dad. a shiver runs up his spine again, but he’s pretty sure it has nothing to do with the whole sweat-and-blood-bear-attack thing.

his first change is a humid summer night in july. a sunday. it starts in his dad’s car as they wait at trade off point in fort lee. hugo had been complaining about summer school and bill about maggie running late — his dad only falling silent when he realizes hugo had stopped running his mouth.

“d-dad?” a quiet whimper calls from the back seat.

“do not puke in my car, hugo,” but as bill turns to glance back at his son, he sees him holding his stomach, hair growing rapidly all over his body as he shakes. in seconds, bill is throwing open the back door, dragging hugo out as he crouches over him. “hugo, what –”

but hugo interrupts with a howl.

in the light from maggie’s approaching car, bill scrambles away from the growing wolf. hugo stalks toward his dad, teeth bared, until his mom lays on her horn and it startles him into running off.

for the first time in fourteen years, maggie and bill work as a team, combing the area as they look for their son, tracking the wolf, waiting him out as dawn breaks and he collapses from exhaustion — bill scoops up hugo’s unconscious form and follows maggie back to the bronx.

they set up a detailed plan, telling no one else. full moons are mapped on calendars, wendy is fed a little white lie. they purchase a unit at a storage facility large enough for things a growing werewolf might need — and if they stop to think about it, they might commit each other. come on, werewolves? if they exist, and hugo proves that well enough, what else does that imply?

each moon is built into their existing custody agreement, and for a while they are both far more willing to help one another out than before… until wendy, seven and a half months pregnant as she is, follows bill to the storage unit and watches the exchange.

she refuses to allow hugo back into their home for months.

it’s the beginning of the end for hugo’s relationship with his dad. in the teenager’s eyes, he’s being kicked to the curb for his dad’s new family, watching his mom take on the extra burden of half a year’s worth of consecutive changes all her own.

he’s nearly sixteen when he starts looking into the existence of other people like him with maggie’s help. someone out there had to change him, right? unless… unless bear attacks turn you into a monster? ( but he’s pretty sure that’s not the case ).

after months of digging, he finds an old lady in brooklyn – martha moretti. he ropes tony into hopping the subway with him ( because of course tony knows ), and they track down her address together. turns out there’s a whole load-a werewolves in a support group for supernatural shit. his mom encourages him to join up, driving him to the twice-monthly brunch meet-ups when she can.

it’s good for him, this community. better than the guys at the chop shop — though he’s still busted with them and gets shipped off to juvie because he can’t help but get caught up in that world too.

at least he gets out for good behavior and the promise of banking community service hours with old mrs. moretti.

[spiltscribbles]

Worth It

~Notes: Oof, I know I have so many prompts in my inbox and I appreciate them so much! But I wanted to write something after dinner in dedication and a gift to the lovely Remus-John-Lupin!!!!!!!<3<3<3 I love you RJ and I appreciate you and your friendship so fucking much, so this is just a strange little gift from me to you in thanks for how kind you’ve always been to me since I joined this crazy fandom, ILY and you’re my favorite slag!!!!

.-

Sirius silently reminds himself that he in fact likes Lily, he thinks she’s a total knock out and is happy that his brother is finally getting to date the girl of his dreams. He likes her damn it,! And one does not commit battery to folks that they like.

Assured that his pure irritation won’t bleed through his words, Sirius tries again in his most charming of inflections. “All I want is his number.”

“No,” she repeats, casually steadfast while poking at her salad— Not even bothering to flick her gaze up at an increasingly irate Sirius.

“Why are you being so fucking difficult!”

“Why are you still bitching about this,” she counters, finally giving him her undivided attention, even if it’s her glaring at him like she’d like to skewer Sirius on a stick.

“Hey guys, let’s chill.” James tries to mediate, laughing awkwardly between the pair of them, hand raised in concession and glasses going a bit skewed.

They promptly ignore him.

“I like him. What is so difficult to understand Evans? Aren’t you like supposed to be some brainiac or some shit?”

“It’s been like two months Black,” she says pointedly, grip on her fork tightening while her mouth curls unpleasantly. “That’s way past your ordinary infatuations, so why the hell do you still even care.”

Sirius bares his teeth, pinning her with a glower that once made an old school yard bully of Regulus’s actually piss his pants. So of course Lily doesn’t even flinch. “He’s cute.”

“You’re a dog.”

“You’re being a total ass.”

“And you’re a bastard.”

“But you love me though.”

“Just barely.”

“So you’ll give me Remus’s number?”

“Dream on.” she says with a lofty sniff and haughty flip of the hair, discarding her barely eaten lunch before swaggering over to where a group of her friends from the STEM club are sat, including Alice Flores and Dorcas Meadowes. 

“Guess you’re back to square one Pads.” James says, unhelpful as fuck, so Sirius only flips him off before snatching back his calculus homework from a pitiful looking Peter.

“Fuck this.”

.-

Sirius thinks of himself as a reasonable sort of guy.

He isn’t one for holding grudges or obsessing over perceived slights. He’s brilliant whether he’s playing linebacker on the field or taking a exam in class.

For fuck’s sake, Sirius  can be plumped down in any and all social situations without warning, and can have the room eating out the palm of his hand within the first five minutes.

In layman’s terms, he’s decent and driven and downright charismatic. Mix this all together, and well Sirius thinks he’s a pretty fantastic fucking package— if he does say so himself. He can have his pick of the lot, truly. Especially when walking down the halls flocked by his best friend turned second brother on one end and little Petey, who’s a great hype man, on the other. So its only poetic justice that the one person who’s been able to swallow up all his attention is the one person who doesn’t even give him a second glance most days.

And that’s fucking ridiculous.

This is ridiculous! He is fucking ridiculous! No, record scratch. Remus fucking Lupin is the most ridiculous part of this all!

Remus lupin with his delightfully disheveled hair the color of gold and his crooked grin that’s everything darling in the world, and his big doe eyes that sometimes flare with green specs when he’s especially passionate in class or when he’s chatting with Lily in the halls. Remus lupin who’s only just moved here to Murray Hill from a small town in southern Illinois and who toppled Sirius’s world upside-down while he was at it. 

The first time they met was completely on accident.

It was the week before classes began, and Sirius had only just come back from his family trip to their villa in Rome, and he was only meant to meet James at the coffee shop that Lily was working at now. They were suppose to head to the city and go out drinking to celebrate the start of their senior year.  Sirius was suppose to find a nice, college aged girl to fuck because he’s given up on the boring lot that infests Hogwarts these days. It was suppose to be easy and fun and he was suppose to stay stringless and unattached as ever.

But that didn’t happen.

Instead, Sirius walked into the Howling Moon  and was met by the sight of the most lovely, most gorgeous boy he’s ever met. Hand to God, it felt like one of those slow motion moments in a Romantic Comedy when the disgruntled, wayward lead first sets their eyes on that love interest— the one to out shine all others, the one  who turns everything inside out and makes it all glitter gold.

“Hey there,” Remus had grinned like the fucking sun, slipping the pen from his ear and hand poised over the cups lining the counter. “What can I get ya?”

“Oh, erm— Yeah. Just a caramel macchiato, iced.”Sirius’s ordinarily smooth baritone almost fucking cracked while ordering, and Remus’s beautiful eyes had glittered.

“Would’ve taken you for a dark roast sort of guy.” He said, and Sirius swears that it was playful and flirtatious and a little mischievous too. 

Sirius was in love.

“I’ve been known to partake in sweets, you know, if they catch my eye,” he replied, eyes lingering meaningfully up and down Remus’s slighter frame.

“What a come on,” Remus had laughed, head thrown back to show off his long neck and Sirius was so fucking gobsmacked at how it quite literally sounded like all the most splendid instruments woven together.

He had ducked his head, so unordinary bashful but so beyond pleased. “What can I say beautiful, you bring it out of me.”

“”Cute.” Remus had chuckled, cheeks going a fetching red and scribbling down the order. “Definitely one of the more interesting one liners I’ve gotten today.”

Sirius ignored the flare of jealousy over that, considering that he hasn’t gotten to even kiss him yet, and he should probably take this slow if he doesn’t want to screw it up. “Has anyone of those bastards mentioned how your eyes put the brownies on sale to shame?”

“No one as hot as you if I’m being honest,” Remus retorted, ringing him up and sinking his teeth into his plump bottom lip. And fuck, Sirius knew he was in trouble from then on.

They had talked for over half an hour about nothing at all in that tiny bistro while Remus was busy exchanging the coffee pots for a fresh batch and rearranging the baked goods, and it was amazing.

 Sirius has always been someone who couldn’t sit still, who had to be fluttering all over the place to feel like he was actually headed somewhere, like he was getting something finished. But for the first time in too long, just sitting there, still and silent and besotted while Remus chatted about his hometown and moving half way across the country and his eccentric mother— Well Sirius felt completely balanced, completely calm. He felt like just as long as Remus was their chatting with him and smiling in that beguiling way of his, that Sirius could actually breathe without pressure. Like he knew what it meant to have a center.

So of course, right when he decided that he was going to snatch him up— to ask him out on a date before anyone else from their shitty class filled with degenerates and dick heads could— Lily of all people  had swaggered in, and gave him a caustic sort of glower that plainly said, keep the fuck away.

Ordinarily Sirius would’ve completely ignored her warning, would’ve unashamedly and excitedly chased after the cutest fucking boy he’s ever laid his eyes on with an absurd sort of zeal. But he under estimated just how much sway Lily was able to cater with Remus in the few weeks they worked with one another before he had met him. So instead of starting off the year with a brand new, insanely pretty boyfriend wrapped around one arm, Sirius has just spent the past nine weeks pining like a fucking love sick loser. Like he was starring in some cheesy John Hughes movie from the damn 80s!

And this will not do, this is not all right, not okay at all.

Sirius needs to figure out a way to get close to Remus, and outside of Lily’s overbearing claws. Something that only Remus likes, that Sirius can partake in to prove himself worthy.

As he promenades down the hall towards his free period, Sirius creates a mental check list of the things he knows Remus enjoys.

Remus enjoys poetry, and Sirius knows that he’s part of the school’s award winning Forensics team. But they meet during the football practices so Sirius couldn’t even try to impress him in that arena until the spring. He also knows that Remus likes history, that he’s going to end up majoring in classics in University, but Sirius really doubts his ability to memorize the Iliad in the matter of a few hours— He’s good, but not that good.

“Jesus fuck is this hard,” he mutters nastily to himself, tugging at the ends of his dark hair before ramming straight into a display outside the southern wing of their preparatory school’s building.

He winces, not so much for the throbbing in his toes, but because of Marlene’s snappish attitude when he makes it so that the table shakes.

“Keep your head out your ass Black,” she scolds before going back to filing her nails. And Sirius is about to snipe right back at her— That is until he catches on the bright poster adorned with small rainbows and the words, GSA FOOD DRIVE spelt out in large lettering.

And oh!

“Eureka!”

“Pardon?” Marlene asks, nose wrinkled indelicately as she eyes him like he’s about to puke on her brand new Doc Martens again like last weekend. Holy shit, she should really get over it by now.

But Sirius is smart enough and tactful enough not to mention his thoughts on the matter, only smiles down at her with pure elation. “Marls, what if I said I had a brilliant idea to help our lovely GSA.”

“I’d accuse you to only doing it to try and get in Lupin’s pants since he’s our new VP.”

Sirius grapples for his chest, feigning indignant. “You pain me my old friend.”

Marlene snorts. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

“That’s neither here nor there.”

“So are your chances with Lupin.”

“You’re a sick fuck McKinnon.”

“What do you want from me you gnat.”

“Let me help with the fundraiser.”

“What’s in it for me?”

“I’ll tell Lily to get Meadowes to notice you?”

Marlene glares at him now. “We’ve been fucking for like a month you prick.”

“Oh— Erm, then for some of that good old Bi unity?”

Marlene suddenly looks so very shrewd and Sirius hates how every fucking woman in his life could eat him whole for breakfast. “Absolutely not.”

“Fine, what the fuck do you want.”

“You cover Fabian’s costs for the goods  when we go to that rave for 2KBABY in January.”

“Eh, didn’t you guys use to fuck?”

“Yes. But I don’t see the connection?”

“He won’t even give you a discount on the good shit?”

“Oh he does,” she leers, blue eyes glinting wickedly in the hallway light. ���But I’d rather see you pay full price for’m.”

Sirius glares down at her, and repeats himself.  “You. Are. A. Sick. Fuck.”

Marlene just lies back in her seat and returns to manicuring her nails. “Well if cheekbones isn’t worth the bother?”

“Fine,” Sirius all but growls out. “But we do this my way.”

“Scout’s honor handsome,” she absolutely beams, and Sirius reminds himself that this is all for Remus and that’s worth it at the end of the day.

.-

It’s a week later, right before Thanksgiving break hits, and Sirius is sat in front of the cafeteria, smirking at the line of mostly pink faced girls and a few others amongst their midst, who have all queued up in front of him. A dollar in each of their hands, though he does see that a few have fives and even tens or more, and he doesn’t know how to subtly tell them that all he’s promising is a quick peck of his lips, and absolutely no other groping— including of his legendary ass or admittedly perfect abs.

“You’re just really enjoying yourself, aren’t you.” James hisses besides him after the latest girl— a blonde sophomore who’s decked out in Lulu Lemon for their only non uniform day of the week— scurries off. “Just a ego trip.”

“Jealous Jamie darling?” Sirius boasts, tipping back on his chair while Marlene collects the cash from the next five in line so that they can clammer closer towards him.

“I can’t believe all of them want to kiss you,” Peter marvels, round eyes completely in aw. 

“I can’t believe you think this is how to get Remus’s attention,” Lily interjects huffily, lips set in a moody pout while perched on James’s lap to Sirius’s left.

“I bet you would’ve been in line if you weren’t dating Jamie here.” Sirius counters, smug as all get out, and laughing when all Lily deigns as a adequate response is her middle finger.

Sirius is on cloud nine. He can’t believe he didn’t think of this sooner! Remus loves all this shit, from the club to the charity. This is perfect! This basically guarantees that he’ll finally get a good smooch on him. And once their lips finally  touch, Remus will surely feel the swarm of butterflies in his gut just like in those Harleyquin romance novels his cousin Narcissa would always read with a dreamy look on her face during their various Family vacations.

“You’re not gonna get him this way.”

“He’s not gonna know what hit’m Evans,” Sirius retorts, completely self assured.

.-

One should never bet against Lily Marie Evans.

Sirius knows this now. But he still hates it with the passion of a thousand burning suns.

By the end of the lunch hour, Sirius’s earned over sixty bucks to the GSA’s fundraiser fund, and absolutely zero potential boyfriends who look like golden angels and make Sirius’s knees weak.

“I told you,” Lily says in that sing-song sort of voice that is so not appreciated right now. “Remus is not the type to kiss you in front of a huge crowd and after like a bunch of others. That’s not his style.”

Sirius is moody as all get out, and he’s irritated that he’s just wasted five dozen perfectly fine kisses on folks who aren’t Remus, so he doesn’t bother to hide his irritation when he gripes back at her, “Then tell me what the fuck is his style.”

Miraculously, that actually proved enough to get Lily to slow down her stroll, and cock her head curiously at him. “You actually care.”

“What the fuck have I been trying to tell you Evans!” He nearly shouts.

“I just thought— You know. That it was a game.”

Sirius’s face goes stoney, and he juts his chin away from her. “It’s not always a fucking game, all right. It’s not a game with him— I like him. I like Remus.”

“Oh,” Lily says very quietly, her face pulled in a thousand different directions before settling on something akin to solemn. “You should go to the music room for your free period today.”

Sirius quirks a brow at her, frowning while he asks, “Why?”

“Just trust me S,” she says, reaching over her hand to squeeze his forearm.

Sirius watches her walk off, hand in hand with James, and he feels a strange twisting to his heart when he imagines a very similar image— only with him and Remus and punctuated by plenty of kisses to the cheek, and jawline and lips too.

.-

The music room is towards the back of the school, in a separate building along with the theatre and main auditorium.

The early autumnal chill lashes against Sirius’s face while he makes the track to the room, continuously chanting to himself that he actually trusts Lily and this is gonna be worth it if there’s a merciful God up there.

Once Sirius clammers in doors, he rubs his cold hands together, and shakes out his hair. 

The first thing he hears is the soft strumming of a guitar, and finds himself in front of the music room after following its melodic toon. 

Through the window he can spot the form of Remus bent over the instrument, his thick curls getting in his eyes and his steady hands plucking a few chords as he sits cross legged atop the piano.

Sirius feels his heart lodging in his throat at the sight of him, so beautiful and perfect and warm looking in that scarlet sweater. And he knows in his bones that this is some sort of unspoken blessing that Lily’s given him, so with a deep breath, Sirius opens the door and strolls in.

Remus starts slightly, going flushed once his eyes catch on Sirius’s own.

“Oh Sirius,” he greets, the corners of his mouth tipping into a smile that doesn’t ring true. “You pulled away from the haram?”

“That’s a bit much? Calling them a haram,” Sirius says cooly, hitching up besides him and swinging his long legs. “I just did it to help you.”

“Oh— Yeah,” Remus nods. “The GSA appreciates all the help we can get.”  His words are quiet, and he’s rinsing a hand through his curls, so Sirius can tell that he’s a bit nervous. And it’s impossibly cute, but also not on. He doubts that he’ll ever get his kiss if Remus won’t even look at him in the eyes.

Gingerly, Sirius sets the pad of his pointer finger beneath Remus’s chin, lifting his gaze upwards. “Not the GSA— Though I appreciate the club’s work and your part in that.”

“Oh,” Remus says again, lips pursed and his throat pulsing when he swallows down. “Then—“

“I did it for you Remus,” Sirius repeats heatedly. “I did it because I’ve been mad for you since ever meeting you in August, and I can’t get your fucking face or name or lips or ass out of my head. And I thought that if maybe I pulled a dumb stunt like that, you would actually kiss me along with the lot of those idiots who can’t even hold a candle to you.”

“M—My ass?” Remus questions, voice going pitchy and face bright with emotion. 

Sirius laughs, booming and bombastic. “You have the best ass I’ve ever seen Remus Lupin and it’s really obscene.”

Remus shoulder checks him, looking down and then back up through his lashes at Sirius and it’s a sight Sirius wish he can keep with him for the rest of his days.

“So you thought I’d want our first kiss to happen after you’ve just made out with half the school?” 

Sirius grimaces, bending down so that their lips are only inches apart. “Listen, I can be a complete dumb ass on occasion.”

“Don’t forget arrogant.”

“Okay, fair.”

“And brash too.”

“Right.”

“Also you tend—“

Sirius places a soft hand over Remus’s supple lips, glaring teasingly at the other boy, who’s grinning like the cat who’s caught the canary, his eyes teeming with laughter. 

Remus Lupin is going to be the death of  him, Sirius knows it.

“Listen Lupin, I’d like a shred of self respect here, so I can actually muster up the courage to ask you out on a proper date already.”

Remus perks at that, so Sirius moves his grasp.

 “You wanna ask me out?”

“Depends…. You wanna continue that little rant until I’m blue balled and  gutless.”

“Hmm,” Remus inches closer, setting his hand over Sirius’s on the piano. “Nah, I think I’d rather do this.”

He leans forwards and Sirius barely has enough time to gather his bearings when he feels Remus’s mouth over his own and it’s literally every starlit promise and sugar burnt secret and sunlit afternoon all rolled into one. And Sirius feels his heart thud an uneven staccato when he grabs for either end of Remus’s waistline and plunges his tongue into his own and he lets himself get lost in the overwhelming feeling of it all.

[dialovers-translations]

Diabolik Lovers DARK FATE ー Kanato Dark [Prologue]

ー The scene starts in the Demon World

Yui: Haah, haah, haah...

( Just look at how red the moon is...The lunar eclipse is really still ongoing here in Demon World. ) 

( It still doesn’t quite click with me how the door in the manor’s basement connects to another world but... )

( For now, I’m just glad I made it here safely. )

ー The scene shifts to the forest

Yui: ( Now I just need to make it to the manor where everyone is. )

( But...Which way should I go? )

( I assumed I would just figure things out as I go but... )

...

???: This way, Yui-san.

Yui: Kanato-kun...!?

Kanato: Haah...I told you to wait...So why are you here?

Yui: ...W-Well...I got scared after all...I’m sorry...

Kanato: No need to apologize, really. 

I was just on my way to return to your side myself.

Yui: Eh...?

Kanato: While I did tell you to wait for me...

It would be foolish to assume a clumsy, slowpoke such as yourself can actually survive by themselves.

Therefore I was just about to be so kind to come and pick you up.

Yui: Kanato-kun...

Kanato: For one...You belong to me, so it only makes sense for you to be by my side.

You understand, don’t you?

Yui: Yeah...

( To think he was on his way to me as well... )

( It might be strange to feel happy at a time like this but...I truly am. )

Kanato: ...Fufu.

You look rather joyful now, considering you had a nearly lifeless expression on your face before I called out to you.

Did you miss me that much?

Yui: T-That’s, well...Yeah. I missed you, Kanato-kun.

Kanato: You are quite the handful. (1) ...Oh well, I guess it’s fine.

ー He steps back

Kanato: More importantly, let’s get going.

Yui: Yeah!

( I should be able to safely make it to the castle together with Kanato-kun. Aah...Thank god... )

Say, Kanato-kun. Is the castle far from here?

Kanato: Well, it’s decently far. I’m sure it’d feel like quite the trip with those weak, human feet of yours.

However, that doesn’t matter. We won’t be returning to the castle after all.

Yui: Eh...?

Kanato: The place shouldn’t matter to you as long as the two of us are together, right?

Besides, the castle is crawling with people who will only get in our way. Hence why we won’t go back there.

Right, how about we hold a picnic together? Yes, let’s do that.

Yui: ( I guess I should have expected this much from Kanato-kun... )

Sure, Kanato-kun. Let’s have a picnic together.

Kanato: Yes. Although that was already settled the moment I decided it, regardless of whether you’d agree or not.

Right, there’s lunar eclipse flowers blooming just ahead ofーー

???: ...Hehe...A leisurely picnic at a time like this...

ー Shin shows up

Shin: Guess you guys really have no idea what kind of situation you’re in, do you?

Yui: ( Ah, that transfer student...!? Shin-kun, was it...? Why is he here...? )

Shin: Kanato...was it? In what kind of way did Karlheinz raise you?

Kanato: ...Shut up...

Hmph...I thought you were suspicious from the first time I laid my eyes upon you...

So you are one of us ーー A creature from the Demon World after all, aren’t you?

Shin: Yeah, exactly. Or rather, I thought you figured that one out ages ago, but maybe I was wrong?

But you know...I’d rather not have you mistakenly believe we’re the same as you guys.

Yui: W-What do you mean...?

Shin: We are Founders. Those who stand above the Vampire race...No, above all other species in the Demon World.

ーー If I put it clearly like that, I’m sure even you two will be able to comprehend, right?

Kanato: ...Ugh.

Yui: ( Founders...? The ones Reiji-san mentioned...!? )

Kanato: I will admit...You smell different from us Vampires.

Let’s say I give you the benefit of the doubt and take your word for it...

So? What does that mean exactly then? 

Shin: ...

...Hehe...Ahaha!

Kanato: What’s so funny?

Shin: What do you mean? ...Haha...Seems like you’re still a kid both on the inside and the outside.

Kanato: Wha...!? 

Shin: Whatever, they say that when dealing with children, you have to explain it to them in a way even they can understandーー

ー Wolves start surrounding them

*GROOOOWL*

Yui: ( T-There’s so many of them...! )

( Then the ones who attacked Ayato-kun must have been Shin-kun’s as well... )

Shin: Kanato. If you hand over that woman without putting up a fight, I don’t mind letting you go unscathed? 

Yui: ( M-Me...!? )

Shin: What will you do?

Kanato: ーー No. I don’t know what your plans are, but she belongs to me.

Shin: Nnー ...That means you’ll meet your end here, but I guess you’re okay with that?

Kanato: Hah? Of course not.

I’ve heard enough. Let’s go already.

ー Kanato grabs hold of Yui’s hand

Yui: Ah...!

ー The two of them run off

Shin: Oh...? I guess you want me to play hide-and-seek with you?

Sure! Go ahead and show me your best hiding attempt!

I’ll make sure to find you before you get lonely and start crying! Ahahaha...!

*TIMESKIP*

ー The scene shifts to a cave

Yui: Haah, haah, haah...

I guess we should be okay after coming this far...?

Kanato: ...Yes...I can no longer sense those Wolves’ presence.

What was his problem...? He kept on talking as if he knows it all...

Yui: ( Kanato-kun’s upset... )

Say, Kanato-kun? You shouldn’t take his words to heaーー

( Ah, my foot...hurts...Seems like I badly twisted it somewhere. The second I eased up, the pain suddenly hit... )

Kanato: What’s the matter? Why did you suddenly go quiet?

Yui: Well...

( Kanato-kun seems really agitated right now, so I should probably keep quiet about my foot. )

It’s nothing. Don’t worry.

Kanato: ...Really? Your complexion seems rather pale though.

Yui: That’s...Um, I guess it’s from running so much. It’s fine, so don’t woーー Uu...

Kanato: ...You really are hiding something from me, aren’t you?

Yui: I-I’m no...Ow...

( I can’t...The pain keeps on getting worse... )

Kanato: ...Your foot...? Your foot hurts, doesn’t it? I’m sure it does. If you won’t tell me the truth, I’ll get mad.

Yui: ...Yeah...Seems like I twisted it at some point...

Kanato: I knew it...

Why didn’t you tell me it hurts?

Yui: I didn’t want to bother you with trivial matters...

Kanato: Trivial?

The fact you can barely move because your foot hurts is ‘trivial’?

For one, I’m long aware that you’re a hopeless, slow-witted klutz. 

Yet I’m willing to keep you by my side like this...

...Or maybe...

You look down on me as well?

Yui: Eh...?

Kanato: Do you think of me as an unreliable child!? Just like Shin does!

Yui: I-I don’t...

Kanato: Then why didn’t you tell me!?

Yui: Kanato-kun...

Kanato: Whatever...It’s fine. I don’t want to hear another word from you.

You are forbidden from speaking until I give you permission to talk again.

Yui: ( I guess right now, I have no other choice but to obey rather than to try and reason with him... )

Okaーー

Kanato: I said not another word, didn’t I!?

Yui: ( R-Right...I’ll just quietly nod instead... )

*Rustle*

Kanato: Hmph...

*HOOOOOWL*

Yui: ( Ah...! A wolf’s howling...They’re already this close...!? )

( O-Oh no...We have to make a run for it... )

Kanato: ...Those pests...Just how annoying are they?

If I recall correctly...Wolves are afraid of flames. If only we could light a fire somehow...

Yui: ( Can we even do that without the right tools...? )

( I was told not to speak but... )

Y-You know, Kanato-kun. We should probably think about making our escape insteaーー

Kanato: Why do you keep on opening that mouth of yours?

Yui: ...Ugh.

Kanato: For one...I’m well aware.

However...In your current condition, even just walking would be difficult, no?

Are you telling me to run away by myself? Don’t make fun of me.

Yui: ( Right. Kanato-kun’s trying to look out for me... )

( Yet I went and ran my mouth again. )

*HOOOOWL*

Kanato: ...Ugh.

Listen.

ー He steps closer

Kanato: If we stay here, they’ll find us.

So we’ll run as I carry you in my arms. Now, come here.

Yui: ( K-Kanato-kun will? But... )

Kanato: ...What’s the matter? Do you think of me as an unreliable weakling?

ーー Come here already. I shall give you permission to say ‘okay’ at least.

Yui: ( Kanato-kun... )

...Okay.

I’ll be counting on you, Kanato-kun...Ah, sorry, I just ran my mouth again...

Kanato: ...Well, I suppose it’s fine. You’ve been forgiven.

All you need to do is rely on and depend on me, without ever leaving my side.

*HOOOOWL*

Kanato: ...Oh.

Let’s go.

*Rustle rustle*

Yui: ( Wah...! )

ー The scene shifts to the forest

Shin: Fufu...Look at them frantically running away...Two lovers eloping together? Bullshit.

Good grief...But you know, Nii-san. Are you sure we should leave things like this?

Wouldn’t it be much easier to just capture them right here, right now?

Carla: ...It is fine. We can leave them be for now.

Shin: Hm...I mean, I’ll listen.

It’s kinda hilarious to see a little kid trying his best to be big and strong. (2)

Kanato, you better put your best foot forward for her sake. Fufu...!

*TIMESKIP*

ー The scene shifts to the living room in the Sakamaki manor

Yui: ( We’ve made it back to the manor in the human world, but it’s a complete mess... )

Kanato: Phew...Now that we’ve made it this far, we should be fine for a bit.

Yui: Yeah...

Kanato: What’s the matter? You look rather glum. Does your foot still hurt perhaps?

Yui: T-That’s not it. It has gotten a lot better already. It’s just, well...

Kanato: What? Speak up already.

Yui: ...I was just wondering if it’s fine for just us to return to the manor like this...

Kanato: Oh, so that’s it...

ーー There’s no issue.

For one...Everyone is way too cautious. I would never mess up the same way Ayato did.

Above all, we can enjoy some private time together here, can’t we?

You’ve got complaints regardless?

Yui: N-No. I’m not complaining.

Kanato: I thought so.

In that case, let us treat your injury at once.

Yui: Yeah...

( It’ll be okay. I’ll be fine as long as we’re together like this... )

( I’m sure everything will be just fine...Right? )

...

Kanato: ...

...Why do you make that face...?

Yui: Eh...?

Kanato: ...It’s nothing.

...Ugh.

Yui: ( Kanato-kun...? )

( I wonder what’s wrong...? )

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

Translation notes

(1) More specifically, he calls her his ‘belonging’ or ‘possession’ right now, using the term 所有物 or ‘shoyuubutsu’. 

(2) Literally he says that it’s funny to see a kid stand on their toes and stretch to make themselves taller.

→  LIKE MY TRANSLATIONS? SUPPORT ME ON KO-FI!

<- [ Sakamaki Prologue ] [ Dark 01 ] ->

[symphonyofthewrite]

If These Walls Could Talk (Ch3) (with cover art!)

(AMAZING cover art by Junki Sakuraba on Instagram and Deviantart!!)

Fandom: Castlevania Netflix

Summary: Vampires do not have reflections, and castles do not have hearts. But Dracula is no ordinary vampire, and Castlevania is no ordinary castle. If castles can fight, maybe they can think too.

The series, and Adrian’s childhood, told from the perspective of the castle.

Chapter Summary: “‘Alucard’, they called me. The opposite of you. Mother never liked that. Did you know that? She hated the idea that I might define myself by you. Even in opposition to you. She loved us both. Enough that she wanted us to be our own people. Living our own lives. Making our own choices."

Chapter 3: “Alucard”

The castle doesn’t like it when Adrian leaves.

Adrian is a child of both worlds, so he must walk in the day every once and a while. He cannot stay in the castle, in the night, forever; he must travel outside the room, feel the sunlight without the glass. He must understand his mother’s people; his human half. A glass half full is a glass half empty, and he understands his duty to fill in the blanks where humanity is supposed to be.

Castlevania is unsure. Afraid, perhaps. It does not know much of humanity…but it does know that their blood tastes sweet, their words sound sour, their hands feel bitter. It knows they are not likely to treat the son of the vampire king with kindness.

It knows of only one human whose touch and words are sweet without taste.

If his mother can be kind… is it possible other humans can be too? Or does being a mother simply necessitate kindness? Is it possible there is more to them than sour speech and the bitter fists? That they are more than just something to fill its master’s appetite and quiet his boredom?

Lisa tells them all so. She gathers her family in the room, and tells them stories of knights and heroes, witches and villains. Of good kings, and evil priests. Of good gods, and evil queens. Of demons and zombies and the heroes who rose up against them—(and maybe Adrian can be one of them, some day). Of people who have nothing but manage to change the world anyways. Of people who have everything but are empty all the same—(that one started to sound a little too familiar). And not all of the stories are read out of books. Some are real, were history. Some she’d even seen herself. Some were told to her. She said she heard some of the most wonderful ones from a Speaker once. She even made some up. Until Adrian himself formed stories when she wasn’t there to tell them.

Dracula looks out the window at the rain, chuckles to himself at the fact that too many of her stories end happily…but something deep inside his eyes is trying, trying to believe her. To believe there’s truth to these stories, even those she made up. To let the light in her eyes flow into his. He tries to make up his own stories too, sometimes. But the darkness in his presence does its best to swallow the light in her words.

Adrian snuggles up beside her and the gleam in her eyes reflects in his without a second’s resistance. Enough that after a childhood of listening to these stories, begging for his parents to take him outside, he can barely wait to experience it himself.

That’s not to say he never left. She took him out on little trips, letting him take bites of the world out there. Each time he came back with treasures—(well what he considered treasures)—in his hands, and a grin secured firmly to his face, and he’d ask with voice bright and fast as a hummingbird, where they’d go out next, and how long he’d have to wait. Even his father took him out to the enchanted forests and grottos of the world for lessons, but always made sure they were the deepest, most well-kept secrets of the world, where no human would find them.

Well, most of the time. There were times when he came back with tears in his eyes. He’d ask What’s a ‘monster’?, and his father would lean down, put his hand on his cheek, and say Definitely not you. Lisa would plead or argue with her husband, but when Dracula would leave, the moon would turn red, and he’d remember what blood tasted like.

But this is different. This isn’t some day trip to come back with trinkets, some night lesson to come back with knowledge. The time it’s stretched out, and stretching them thin.

When he leaves and doesn’t come back that night… that morning…the next…the room tries to speak but finds there’s no breath in it, like it got the wind knocked out of it.

This is a different emptiness from what Castlevania was before. It isn’t a principal, not simply a fact of life. It is an absence. An absence of something living. An absence of a fact of life. A true emptiness in that the room was once full.

It doesn’t take long for the room to know what I miss you means; that absence creates ripples of yearning in its wake. That emptiness aches to be filled. It misses the games he played in the sunlight, it misses the lullabies, the drawings, counting the stars and sitting by the fire, the moments when the family would tell stories to the walls they didn’t know were listening.

It even misses the crying.

The clock tower’s ticking eats away at them from the inside.

And within the ticking, the room, the castle, wonder what the humans will do to him out there.

Will he be a monster in their eyes? An enemy, a beast, an ugly thing? Will they not see the light in his nature, rather the dark that nurtured him?

Will he be a cacophony to their ears, the screeches and howls of undead things, instead of the symphony they know his voice to be?

Will his blood be that of demons and beasts to their noses, and will they cast him out for not being human enough?

Will he be a toy in their hands, just as he played humans-and-vampires, just as he pretended to fight monsters with wooden swords?

…But he is alive, and living things ought not be played with, for they cannot be imagined into something they’re not.

And if he is a toy to them…what will they make of him? Will they imagine him as a human like them? Or will they imagine him into a monster he is not? Will they realize he is neither? Will they think he needs the night when he is perfectly fine in the day? What stories will they tell of him?

Castlevania has not met many humans. But those it has were prone to make monsters out of decent men, and weapons out of instruments of peace.

Will the humans’ mouths be forked and deadly as ever? Will their hands be weak and empty as ever? Will they assess him as fuel for their ever-greedy fire? Will they take the life—they who have so much of it—take the single life they have here, the one that brought it to them all—and crush it out of him, figuratively or literally?

Will they bully him, and scorn him, and lie to him, and cheat him and hate him and…hurt him?

The room twists and spirals in its thoughts, as if going down a hill, and throbs at the last word.

Or… says the castle softly, Will they welcome him? Will they understand him? Will they see him as we have? As he truly is? Will his light withstand the darkness in them? Can he bring life to these bloodthirsty beasts?

When Adrian returns, what—or who—will he be?

The castle and the room wonder, and wait, and question, and long for him as they are left in the dark, holding their breath until breath itself is but a fleeting memory.

They couldn’t say how long it had been since he left, it could have been a lifetime. But one day, as black and white as the rest, the morning comes with spreading color, and breath tumbles into the deepest corners of the room again.

They are equal parts nervous and eager to hear the stories he has to tell; for these monsters and men are more than toys.

And he does have stories to tell.

Out there, adventure exists in more than just books. Out there he can learn without charts and lectures; he can learn by doing, by experiencing. He can put to use, and to the test, all the spells and techniques he practiced indoors. Out there the scenes that were pictures before are real, are alive—the rain licks and the snow bites, the grass whispers as the wind sings its haunting melody, and the rivers join in response. Out there he can smell the trees, and flowers, the campfires, listen to the howls and chirps of the animals, and feel the sun on his skin without the glass to separate them. Taste the world. And out there the heroes and villains are animate too—he can speak to them, and won’t have to dream up their responses. He can make friends and enemies out of words and actions instead of wood and clay. Out there the threats, the demons and monsters are real too, and he has to fight them with something sharp—be it his pen or his sword. Out there, imagination is a weapon against reality. Out there he doesn’t have to imagine his world to life because it already is. And he is alive in it…this is his life that he is finally living.

That is what a life is. The idea echoes in the room.

(If this is a life…are we alive? The room asks.

Alive isn’t the same as life. Castlevania mutters softly, and doesn’t explain.)

And, amongst all the adventures they learn that while he walked the world a spell, his mother’s people gave him a new name:

“Alucard.”

Alucard. The reverse of Dracula.

They looked at him, they listened to him, they spent time with him and they understood—(breathe again and be still, they understood)—they understood that he was not the dark and the cold and the death his father is. In fact, they thought that he was so different from his father that this reversal must be his name.

The room is proud of him, happy for him, relieved, for this was its purpose, its hope. Relieved to have him back—more full of life and light than ever.

Lisa, while always proud of him, doesn’t like the name. She named him after all, it makes sense that she wouldn’t appreciate a dismissal of the name she chose. But…there’s more to it than that. She doesn’t want him to be defined by his father. She doesn’t want him to be a difference, a reverse. She wants him to be himself. Him and his father to be different people. She wants them to be themselves; not dividends, fractured pieces of one another put back together in different orders.

(But aren’t we all fractured pieces of each other? Don’t we take fragments of each other to make up ourselves?)

This is a strange thought to Castlevania, for it has always been defined by Dracula, and never minded, but perhaps mirrors ought not mind their reflectors. Adrian is no mirror. Still, the castle has always compared the boy to his father. The room was always meant to be the opposite of the Dracula, of his castle. The boy’s very existence has always spelled the reverse of everything they knew. Its only fitting the boy would be a reversal of his father.

‘Adrian’ is a nice name…but ‘Alucard’ fits like a tailored suit.

Adrian likes the world. Makes sense, he likes the sun, the day, the mirrors, the books, the stories, the people.

But what doesn’t make as much sense, and what’s more important, is the world likes him. At first its strange, but as the castle thinks about it more it makes sense; they may have come with pitchforks before, because they didn’t like Dracula. …But Alucard is not Dracula.

The room breathes deep, more alive than ever. And, as its master returns, tells his story, the room learns too.

Castlevania may be able to move for its master, but the room is stuck in its place. It cannot see the rest of the world like the boy can. It understands now that Alucard being different from Dracula also means that he cannot stay inside like his father does. That though it hurts when he leaves, the room can never be everything he needs the way the castle can for Dracula. That he is made for something bigger than four walls…even if those four walls were part of what made him.

It understands that breath cannot be a constant for it. That its master will leave, and the room will be hollow and ache for certain periods of time. This is a fact of life. This is what living is.

But it also understands that he will always come back. This isn’t something it reasoned or multiplied out. This is just something it knows within the oldest parts of it; that they will never be apart forever.

Now that the room is alive within the castle it will always be its own existence. Even if it’s empty, even if it gets broken and battered, it will always be the universe they built for him, a universe can’t be destroyed by mortal hands. It can never be fully erased as long as Alucard lives.

(…And Castlevania understands that is dangerous.)

The room understands that though life was always a stagnant thing for the castle, it is more dynamic and elusive for it. It will go through periods where there is nothing in that room, and the emptiness will throb, but in the same way that Alucard has the kind of life Dracula could never have, the room will have the kind of life the castle could never have.

The room’s breath will ever be catching itself and falling, like a dance, as if always during the most exiting part of a story.

[lovecanbesostrange]

#is it too late to write 2k words of how Ruby stays chained up and turns and she's in control yet scared but Belle stays with her NO!!! It is never too late for red beauty content

Is this a dare or are you just mocking me?

But, well, okay, let's go back to that night in the library then, shall we?

(under a read more, but also up on AO3 now)

Ruby frantically went through the rooms, making sure all the windows were shut, nobody else was here and she knew the layout of the place. But Belle was still here, that was not good. She needed to go, lock the main entrance from the outside.

"You need to leave. The moon's going to be up soon."

Belle didn't made any effort to go, instead she followed Ruby around. "But will the chains hold?"

"Hopefully." Like a familiar tune another conversation about chains played out in Ruby's head. Familiar and devastating. Those chains did hold. But only because they held a human back, leaving him defenseless.

"Then, I'm staying." Belle's determined tone stopped Ruby in her tracks. She was so upbeat and positive, as if this wasn't about a beast showing up any minute, who could tear her to shreds. Belle reached out, not just mentally, but physically now. Ruby felt the hands on her shoulders, a gesture to spark comfort. "Think of it as girls' night."

Ruby was at a loss for words. Belle was so cheery about all of this. So unfazed by the horror of the situation. Was this how Peter had seen her? When she convinced him he might be the wolf and he was ready to be tied up and send her away, but Red had stayed with him. Unintentionally dooming him to a grim death. Red had felt the same determination to stay with him that Belle showcased now. It was such a weird switch in perspectives. Except Ruby knew much, much better now.

Slowly Ruby backed away, breaking contact with Belle, who finally showed concern, but not in the way Ruby wanted. "What's wrong?"

How could Ruby explain all of this? The way her heart ached, because of a lost love, a life taken and now also because this thing might happen again. May have in fact happened again. Belle hadn't seen Billy's body. Belle didn't know how easily werewolf fangs tore human bodies in half. Belle didn't know that deep inside of Ruby a monster lurked. And that every bit of self-doubt made it stronger. That only self-acceptance could tame it and Ruby had run out of that this morning in front of the cannery. Why was she the only one that was afraid?

"I know David wants to believe the best, but I've killed before, and I'll do it again." Ruby picked up the chains, the rattling sound a faint promise of safety. "Everyone in this town is right to be afraid of me."

"Okay, well I'm not."

"You should be!" Ruby almost yelled back instantly. How did Belle not understand this? This was about her life! People outside gathered in a mob to hunt for a wolf and they were right. Because if Ruby had killed Billy, the sweet mechanic who always smiled and was up for a chat, then anybody could be next.

But Belle didn't budge. She didn't give in a single inch and Ruby stared at her. Trying to figure out what to do. "No matter what you might've done in your past, David sees the good in you and-" A slight pause, Belle's face was perfectly calm, her eyes warm and her lips twitched into a reassuring half-smile for a second. Just looking at her twisted Ruby's inside. "And that tells me one thing."

"What?" She was skeptical, because Belle didn't listen to reason, making up her own theories here. Ruby had on of the cuffs in her hand. Thinking back to Peter a thought formed. He would have been safe if Red had gone away. Maybe this was how she could keep Belle from getting hurt. Put this on her and leave. The building was secure. And the people outside took the risk serious enough to end the threat once and for all.

"That it's in there." Belle kept going, while taking a step forward. Stepping into Ruby's personal space again, closing this gap to show how serious she was about not being afraid. "So if we can all see it, why can't you?"

"You really think so?" All Ruby wanted was to believe Belle. Believe in her kind words, her trust that the wolf wasn't the problem.

"Trust me. I'm sort of an expert when it comes to rehabilitation."

Ruby looked at Belle. Her face. The utter and unfaltering support. The way her eyebrows moved, the corner of her mouth pulling up radiating optimism and just those gentle eyes.

"Maybe. Maybe you're right." Ruby played with the cuff. Now or never. She could leave Belle to safety and make a run for it. She deserved whatever the mob had in store for her.

But under Belle's gaze she faltered. For a split second she wanted to believe her so much, that she closed the cuff around her own wrist. She had only met this type of kindness once before and it overwrote her will towards self-destruction long enough to change her course of action.

"But you do need to leave." Ruby closed the second cuff and pulled at the chains a bit, the weight was noticeable, but she was worried if the pipe was sturdy enough.

Belle smiled. "I'm staying and now you can't throw me out anyway." She took Ruby's hands into her own. "I'll get you through this. And tomorrow you'll see that you worried for nothing. David will find out the truth."

Ruby ground her teeth. It was too late now. She could only hope history was not about to repeat itself. The literal hand-holding was maybe too much, but it had a calming effect. Ruby was not alone, even though she should be, while also not wanting to be. This whole day had taken a lot of energy from her and it was nice to surrender for a moment. But she needed to focus and let go of Belle.

When Ruby grabbed the other cuffs that were supposed to go around her ankles, Belle intervened.

"Wait, you need to straighten those out first, they're all twisted. You'll make it worse for yourself."

"That's kinda the point."

Again Belle gave her that sympathetic half-smile. "The point is to keep you locked up, not to strangle yourself. I have had my share of uncomfortable nights in chains."

Under any other circumstances Ruby would have a question about that, but she only stood there and let Belle straighten out the chains like christmas lights. She then knelt down to put the cuffs on. All Ruby did was raiser her feet one after the other a bit to help.

"All set?", Belle asked.

Ruby yanked at the chains, the pipes didn't give in. And the chain connecting her wrists and ankles now restrained her movement. The wolf would not be able to make huge leaps in those, even if it broke loose. She leaned against the wall and slowly glided down. "The last one around me, please?"

Now she had to look up at Belle and her stomach turned once more. Was this how Peter had felt? She remembered vividly helping him into the chains, securing him against the tree. Both believing it was the right thing to do. She remembered her love for him and the trust he wouldn't hurt her. Like Belle trusted her now contrary to all evidence.

A bit of shame rose up in Ruby, battling with her nervousness. She had given Belle a crash-course in everyday life in Storybrooke, but avoided any question about her pre-curse persona. And now here they were. Because of the wolf. If she had warned Belle from the start, she wouldn't be so insistent now on helping and staying. She wouldn't be crawling around on the floor of her library to fasten chains around Ruby.

"Done." Belle squatted in front of her.

Ruby had pulled her knees up to her chin and hugged her legs. "Please go?" It was more of a question than a request and Ruby knew the answer already anyway. Because Peter had said the same. And she had stayed. For him.

Belle cocked her head to the side, rubbing Ruby's leg for a moment. "I'm responsible for what happens in the library. And if my friend is chained up in here, I'm responsible for her, too." She brushed a strand of Ruby's hair behind her ear and locked eyes.

Ruby took a deep breath in. She could feel the beast creeping closer, the moon was rising. "But get back. Get to the door." She mustered every ounce of command she could. "You have to!"

Belle got up and stepped away. She made her way to the main entrance backwards, never taking her eyes off of Ruby. And Ruby felt exposed. It was time. The beast was near. The wolf wanted out. What was it that made her black out last night? She had been in the freezer and woken up in the woods. She remembered nervous pacing and endless worry. She had rejected the reality of what was happening. The thing Anita had warned her about.

The wolf was her, she was the wolf. Different, but the same. She was the beast, with fangs and claws and animal instincts. All of that monstrous potential. It was all her. All a part of her. Under her control.

Ruby turned. Her senses grew sharper, the noises and smells that already had been loud and clear, became more distinct. The strength that put her above normal humans was now fitted with all the right muscles. And there was an immediate need to move, to run, to use those muscles and to get outside. A want for fresh air and dirt under her paws.

Ruby threw herself against the chains and let out a howl. Belle had to press her hands against her ears, because the closed space wasn't the best place for such a noise. But the howl turned into a low whine, when Ruby kept struggling. The cuffs cut into the skin, not fitting her legs as well as a minute ago. And the chain around her body kept her from any decent movement. She was trapped. This was terrible. And Ruby panicked.

Deep down she knew this was what she had wanted. To be tied up in a way that would not allow her to escape. But the craving for freedom in her wolf form was far stronger than any human reason. This was the thing with being a wolf. Some things felt different.

"Ruby?"

Belle's voice reached her as she tried to get up on all four paws, but the chain yanking her back towards the wall.

"Ruby? Are you okay?"

Ruby barked. Once. A warning. She couldn't come closer! She growled, but also tried to retreat, she needed to make sure she was far away from Belle, right? This was her friend, she was in danger from something. Ruby needed to stay away.

When Belle stopped moving so did Ruby. She looked at her. If she stayed away all was right. Nothing bad would happen. If she stayed still herself Belle was safe. Ruby tried another approach and tried to lie down. The chains pressed against her body in various spots, but she managed. She pulled her ears back, flattened herself as best as she could and whined.

"Ruby?"

She only moved her ears in confirmation. Belle's face spelt surprise. But Ruby couldn't read if it was a good or a bad thing.

"I get it now, where the big part in big bad wolf comes from." Ruby growled and bared her teeth for a second. "No, no, you're not bad. Definitely not bad. But kinda big." Her furrowed brow smoothed out and she put a smile back on. "You are a big wolf. And I don't think that's the same as being a monster."

Ruby pointedly turned her head, not looking at Belle anymore. But she could hear her sitting down. And then a few moments of silence. Until a soft rustle piqued her interest. Belle was pulling out books from the shelf she leaned against.

"Sorry, I'm still reorganizing things. Some of these shelves don't make any sense to me." Her eyes darted over the back of a few books, skimming the contents. "The good thing is there is lots to discover I have never heard of." She held up a thick volume. "Here, an anthology with short stories and I don't even know any of these writers. Bradbury, Vonnegut, Ellison, Le Guin. Any of these names mean something to you?"

Ruby dared a quick tail wag, because buried in her false memories was reading Fahrenheit 451 as a school assignment. Belle put the book down and pulled out a much thinner one.

"The Last Unicorn." Ruby lifted her head. "Oh, someone we know? Maybe I should take that into consideration. Rearranging the fairy-tales and stories with people we've met."

She opened the book and started to read. "The unicorn lived in a lilac wood, and she lived all alone. She was very old, though she did not know it, and she was no longer the careless color of sea foam but rather the color of snow falling on a moonlit night. But her eyes were still clear and unwearied, and she still moved like a shadow on the sea." Belle had a soothing tone that made Ruby forget the cuffs cutting into her skin, the chains hindering her from moving and biting into her body. She wasn't supposed to be comfortable. And Belle wasn't supposed to be here and definitely not reading to her.

There were people outside hunting for a bloodthirsty wolf and yet, Ruby was inside, hidden away, listening to the story of a lonely creature searching for her family. Belle looked up every so often, giving different voices to the characters and making facial impressions, but not disturbing the flow with comments on the plot. Ruby was too focused on her that she didn't even hear footsteps coming closer and she was startled when the door to the library was pushed open.

"We've got it!" David shouted, holding up Ruby's red signature cloak. "And you're cleared. It was all Spencer."

Granny followed, still some fury on her face. "He tried to frame you, so David would look bad. But we got him." Granny's grin gave away that she had used the crossbow in her hand.

"That's fantastic," Belle said as she got up. "See, no need to worry."

"Everything okay in here?", David asked when he slowed down as he approached Ruby.

"Nothing happened. I don't think she even needed the chains."

David threw the cloak over Ruby and the second she turned back, she hugged him. "Thank you, David."

"No, thank you for not doing something reckless. I've told you, I believe in you."

They both know the thing that wasn't said in this moment. That Snow had believed in her first and if she had been here, things would have been different. And with that Ruby noticed that David was holding back something else.

"What happened?"

"We can talk about that tomorrow." His smile wasn't completely genuine, but Ruby let it slide. She felt a weight lift off of her chest. Literally, because Belle had opened the lock on the chain keeping her down. David held out a hand to help her get up.

He stepped back. "I have to get back to Henry."

Ruby tried to pull the cloak tighter, but the chains prevented it and Belle took her hands. Again. "Let me." She held up the key. "This is the best part." And for what felt like the first time in years, but it had probably been only a day, Ruby smiled back at her.

When the chains fell down she immediately hugged Belle. All the worries about keeping a safe distance forgotten. The beast had been contained, in fact there was no beast to fear at all and her friend had stayed through it all. How lucky to have friends who believed in her more than she did herself.

Granny cleared her throat. "Are you coming home or are you going for a midnight run, now?"

Ruby looked at her over Belle's shoulder, still holding on and enjoying the way Belle hugged back firmly. "Run", was her simple answer.

And as sudden as they had come in, David and Granny vanished again, leaving the two alone.

"A midnight run?", Belle asked as she put the books back on the shelf, except for The Last Unicorn.

"Yes. That's all I could think about."

"And you remember everything that happened, while...", she gestured to where Ruby had been lying down so miserably.

The self-consciousness returned. "I hope I didn't scare you."

Belle laughed. "I was only scared for you, not of you. That looked unpleasant." She pouted.

"It was." Ruby picked up the book and thumbed through the pages, trying to find where they had left off and put a piece of paper in almost halfway through. "Will you read the rest to me?"

Belle took the book from her, lingering a bit when their fingers brushed. "I wanna know how this ends."

"This?"

"It. How it ends."

Ruby had seen a flashlight in the utility room earlier and quickly picked it up. "So, you want to join me?" She offered it to Belle. "A stroll through the woods?"

This night there was a wolf running around the woods surrounding Storybrooke. Circling around a woman wearing the well-knows red riding hood. When Belle sat down, Ruby put her head on her legs, enjoying a scratch between the ears and listening to the rest of the story. Maybe there was hope for finding companions when you thought you were the only one of your kind.

[maxineswritingcenter]

You Saved Me - Derek Hale x fem!reader part 23

--------

2000

We were ten years old, Derek and I. Playing a game of hide and seek with his sister Laura. It felt like it was more a game of “let the kids run around and not bother me”. We were deep in the woods outside of their home, laughing and squealing delight as we ran and ran. That is until lightning flashed through the sky and thunder boomed immediately after. Spooked, we ran further from the thunder and lightning, finding a small improvised shelter that we had made a few years before when we would play cops and robbers. Derek’s uncle Peter had helped us build it, occasionally playing the sheriff when he deemed us “less annoying than usual”. 

Once inside the little hut, we sat and decided to wait out the storm or at least until someone came to get us. It was mostly dry with only or two leaks in the roof. We waited a while in silence, only the rain and wind howling filled the air. It was almost peaceful. I had been sitting there, literally twiddling my thumbs when I noticed the anxious movements Derek was making. He was tapping his foot against the soft earth and he was repeatedly cracking his knuckles. 

“What is it?” I asked. He seemed to snap out of his trance and looked at him, then looking away with a slight blush on his cheeks. 

“I was just thinking about what my mom said last year... About us being arranged in a marriage.” 

“What about it?” I turned my body so that I could face him. 

Derek rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact, “I dunno... I guess that I wouldn’t want to be forced into a marriage with you. It doesn’t seem fair.” 

“You’re right.” I glanced out towards the woods, smiling fondly, “I want to fall in love. I want someone like Dimitri in Anastasia.” I sighed dreamily. 

“Wasn’t he a con-artist?” Derek raised an eyebrow. I shoved him playfully. 

“No...Well, yes. But he doesn’t take the money the Duchess offered him as a reward because he wants Anastasia to be happy.” 

“He’s a cartoon.” 

“And you’re a dork.” I shook my head, “What about you? Who would you wanna marry someday?” 

Derek thought for a moment, “I guess... I would want someone like Anastasia. She’s super badass and defeats the villain all by herself. She also went through a lot and did a lot even when she didn’t remember who she was, she fought for her future.” 

As sweet as that was...

“She’s a cartoon.” I mocked his voice. He grinned and shoved me, starting a wrestling match that ended with Talia and Peter finding us. They brought us home and made us hot chocolate. 

-

After landing, Michael and I had taken a ferry to the Shetland islands to Sumburgh, the village on the island where the Lunar Circle was settled. We actually were brought to a castle, which was already insane enough. The next insane thing was a statue just inside the massive doors into the main room of the castle. It was a humanoid with the head of a wolf, wearing a kilt and armor. The creature also carried a sword. 

“What is that?” I whispered to Michael. 

“The Wulver. A werewolf that had come to peace with his wolf and human sides. He was friendly to locals and they seemed fine with him. That’s when hunters came and tried to kill him. He was the reason for founding the Lunar Circle - coexistence. 

“Can I do that?” I whispered under my breath. 

“Unfortunately, no.” Our attention was brought to a man with a thick Scottish accent walking into the room, “Our world has lost touch with the old magic. But maybe someday we can bring it back.” He was average height, with salt and pepper hair that was on the longer side and a bit shaggy. His eyes were a kind blue color. He held out his hand to me. 

“Praetor Lachlan McLeod.” The stranger introduced himself, “It’s so good to finally meet you, (Y/N).” So this was the man who wrote the letter, it was nice to have a face to a name. I shook his hand and smiled politely. 

“It’s nice to meet you too, Praetor.” From my googling, Praetor was a Roman term for an official, which was an interesting concept since Rome had completely invaded all of England, Ireland, and Scotland and almost wiped out their culture. But whatever. 

“Please, call me Lachlan.” 

I nodded, “Okay, Lachlan.” He held both of my hands in his smiling sympathetically. 

“I want to extend my condolences, again, for your loss. Your mother and father did so much for the Lunar Circle.” 

Slowly, I slipped my hands from his, “Thank you... I just have a lot of questions about them.” 

“All in due time, my dear. You’ve had a long flight and I’m sure that you’re exhausted.” 

Michael sighed, “Oh, we sure are-”

 “I’m not tired. I want answers.” I said sternly. Michael looked incredibly nervous which made me wonder how high up this Lachlan guy was, “I appreciate your concern, sir, but I am coming from a place where I am just now remembering my parents were a part of a secret werewolf society that gave them the tools to take all of my memories away and said society wouldn’t allow me to be accompanied by my partner. It took a lot for him to let me come by myself, especially since he had never trusted the Lunar Circle in the first place.” 

“Ah, yes, Derek Hale.” He said, almost amused, “I remember his mother’s rejection letter. It was somehow very personal. I think she referred to me as ‘a spineless coward who would rather fraternize with the enemy than fight them.” 

I clicked my tongue, “Sounds like Talia.” Michael nudged my side, signally for me to chill. 

“And another thing-”

“Oh no.” Michael hid his face in his hands.

“This guy.” I pointed to Michael, “He killed my parents, isn’t there some kind of punishment for that?”

Michael ripped his hands from his face, “Hey, that wasn’t my fault.”

“Mr. Keaton’s unfortunate affliction caused by Peter Hale has been reviewed.” Lachlan put his arms behind his back, “I assure you. It was all the Hale’s doing.”

I jerked forward, Michael had to grab my arms to hold me back, “Derek is not his uncle.” My eyes flashing red. 

Lachlan raised his eyebrows and smiled, leaning down and flashing his alpha red eyes at me in return, “I’m sure he’s not.” The red left his eyes and he stood up straight, “Take her to the infirmary and then straight to bed.” He said to Michael, his eyes never leaving mine. I kept my eyes on him, even as he started to walk away, this kilt swaying with each step.

“The infirmary? Why?” Michael asked. 

“I believe Miss (Y/L/N) is carrying something.” He grinned, “Something that may calm her temper.” 

-

After a blood test in the infirmary, we were escorted to two rooms in the castle. Of course, this left me alone with my thoughts that I really didn’t want to think about. Knowing that Derek and everyone else was back home fighting against the alpha pack while I was in this ancient castle where I haven’t gotten the answers I wanted. Why was I even here? To take up my parents’ mantle? Whatever it was, I didn’t want it. I just wanted to go back home and help. I looked out the window of the castle, seeing the moon high in the sky. 

I mean, what could they tell that I didn’t already know? My parents took my memories to keep me safe and look where it got them? Burned to ashes. And what else? I was only stalked by a psychopath and had to watch my friend struggle to not hurt anyone. I mean, hell, I was still struggling with the change. Uncle Noah was still processing what I was. Yes, he’s supportive but to what end? And Stiles? I wasn’t there to protect him when he was kidnapped and beaten by the Argents and now I was millions of miles away and if he was in trouble there was nothing that I could do. And if anything happened to Derek and I wasn’t there to save him? What was the point of even being alive? I would be without them, helpless and guilty, all because of some stupid secret society. 

My chest got tighter and tighter as my emotions ran high. My thoughts and feelings were moving so quickly that it felt like I didn’t have control of my own mind. My hands clenched tight, I could feel all of my features shift. Coarse hair growing down the sides of my face, the bridge of my nose tightening. I screamed loudly, the high pitch lowering into a loud roar. 

“This is your fault!” She shouted, standing up, “Take me home!” She lunged forward. Michael lunged forward, using the shield to knock her back across the room and into the window. Surprisingly, it didn’t break. She fell to the ground, looking up quickly. 

MICHAEL

From the loud roar that just came from the next to his, Michael had a feeling that the Sheriff had been right. She was a time bomb and she just exploded. Michael quickly grabbed a shield from one of the suits of armor that for some reason always decorated castles and made his way into (Y/N)’s room. (Y/N) was on the bed, tearing at pillows. There were feathers and fluff flying all over the room. She was in full shift, her eyes fiery red, her canines sharp. Her eyes took him in, snarling loudly. She jumped off the bed, landing in front of him on all fours. Michael jumped back, shield held tight in his hand. 

“Come on, (Y/N)!” He tried to put on a brave face, “You just need to calm down and get some rest.” 

“SCREW YOU!” She shouted, lunging again. This time, Michael moved on the way, letting her slam into the door, which also didn’t break. 

“That’s a good door.” He said to himself. Michael looked from the door and back to the angry werewolf. She was seething with rage and one step closer to killing him. 

“Think about this.  You don’t want to kill me!” 

“Yes, I do! I hate you!”

“Hate is such a strong word...” He said nervously. (Y/N) lunged again and was met by a door to the face. Lachlan had opened the door and they both looked down at (Y/N) on the floor. She was on her behind, rubbing her forehead. Lachlan sighed, reaching down to help (Y/N) up. 

“I seem to have underestimated your anger. Please, walk with me.” 

(Y/N)

Lachlan led me out of the castle and down to the grounds. In the back of the stone walls, there was a large garden. The Praetor hadn’t said anything since we had been out here, but I think that’s what he wanted. The moon and the atmosphere around us was calming, must be the magic here. 

“I apologize for dismissing your concerns earlier.” Lachlan said finally, leading us to the cliff side where we could see the waves crashing against the rocks, “You have been through a lot lately. More than any new werewolf is expected to handle as well as you have.” When I looked at him, I could tell he was being genuine. 

“I just...” I sighed, leaning against a nearby oak, “I didn’t want to come here. I didn’t want to leave my partner behind. And... I didn’t want to meet the people who told my parents to take my life from me.” 

Lachlan looked up at the moon, the wind flowing through his hair, “Your concerns are near and dear to my heart. My own parents used the Wolf Eclipse spell on me after I mated with a she-wolf from a rival clan. The look in her eyes when I told her I didn’t know who she was... I see it every time I close my eyes. And then I lost her.” His voice shook a bit, “I never forgave them after that.” He looked back at me, “When your parents told us that they had done the spell after the Hale fire, we told them it was a bad idea. You needed to be stronger than ever, maybe even leave Beacon Hills, but they became too attached to the community, to the sheriff and his son.” They stayed for them... I have no idea what my life would have been like without Stiles in it. It was so different. That was a life I didn’t want to think about because it was a life without my best friend and his insane antics. It was a life without Uncle Noah who loved me no matter what. It would be a life without Derek, or at least a life where I wouldn’t be there to meet him again. 

“I remember now that my father thought we were safe.” I wrapped my arms around myself, “Chris Argent is loyal to his word and the code his family is supposed to follow. Unfortunately, he is the only one who follows that code. Even his own daughter was corrupted by his father and his sister and she was dating a werewolf.” 

“Unfortunately, not every hunter can be Chris Argent. From our understanding, he is the only one fighting with his head while the others see us as inhuman.” He chuckled, “You might even say that we are more human than they are.” I chewed on the inside of my cheek. 

“Lachlan?” 

“Hmm?” 

“What am I doing here? Why bring me all this way?” 

Lachlan looked back up at the moon and smiled, “Well, it was originally to restore your memories. Thankfully, that resolved itself. Now, since you are the only member left of your clan - an alpha was two sparks - we were hoping that you could spend some time with us to relearn the basics. And I also want you to relax, experience your culture, your legacy.” 

“That sounds great and all. But I don’t have time to do that. I need to get back to Derek.” 

“(Y/N), you know that it is too dangerous for the both of you to be there. I don’t want you to experience what it’s like to lose a mate. It’s... It’s soul crushing. Losing who you love most - that is the worst pain anyone can feel.” Lachlan turned to go back to the castle, “Think about it. You aren’t a prisoner here. You may leave whenever you like. But I think you could do great things with just a little help.” With that, his footsteps faded into the darkness; leaving me with only my thoughts, the moonlight, and the ocean below. I had to make a decision, one that would ultimately decide my future as an alpha. I just wish someone I knew was here to help me make this decision. If only Uncle Noah were here. He was so level headed and wanted the best for me, but the werewolf drama was probably too much for him already. And Derek would want me to hone in on my skills, even if that meant going into battles alone and possibly losing them. 

I just wish it wasn’t this hard. 

-

After pressing Derek’s contact, I pressed the phone to my ear and listened to it ring. I had no idea what time it was back home, I just needed to at least pretend I was talking to him. 

“Hey Der.” I smiled, “I know it’s late or early. Honestly, I’m not sure. But I wanted to call you and tell you how today went. The flight was long, the food was okay. Uh they made me get a blood test for whatever reason. Oh, and there’s this thing called the Wulver and he was a werewolf that came to peace with his human and animal side. Lachlan’s really nice and doesn’t want to take me from you so the coast is clear on that one. And uh I remembered something today. When we were kids, we got lost in the woods in a storm and we talked about crushes. Funny how you had a crush on a girl who lost her memories.” I laughed, “Anyway... I miss you. And I love you. And I’ll be back as soon-”

I was cut off by a beep and a message telling me that the allotted time of this  message was over. Sighing, I set my phone down and flopped back on the extravagant bed that seemed to form to my body in just the right way. All the fluff and feathers had been cleaned by the time I came back so I should probably thank whoever the cleaning staff were. All I can do is sleep and hope that tomorrow will give me better answers. 

-------------------

Read part 24 here!

I watched Inside today so I am no feeling good. 

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Starving

Prompt: I work at the butcher shop and we've never spoken, but I recognise you from when you come in to buy fresh meat every month. I don't mind keeping the store open a little past closing since you're running late and seem kind of desperate. This may be weird to mention, but did you know your teeth are getting sharper while we talk? (Source in master list)

Word count: 2,782 words

Genre: Feels, supernatural

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Someone had the bloody cheek to enter as I was getting ready to close up shop. Our opening hours were indicated on the door. The door. You couldn’t get any clearer than that. When did schools and parents stop teaching their charges not to enter business premises two minutes before closing time?

It was her.

I could make an exception this time, I suppose. She came in often enough and bought more than enough for me to consider her a regular. And she was a lovely person to deal with; I couldn’t say the same for a decent amount of my other regulars, whose business I accepted with gritted teeth.

‘I’m sorry. I know you’re closing soon. Just — please, I’ll take any cuts of meat you have left. I can pay extra for the trouble,’ she said.

Oh, God, what had I done to earn that kind of impression?

‘Are you okay?’

‘I’m fine, thank you.’ Her pale skin and quivering form said otherwise. ‘I just — I just lost track of time at work. I got here as quickly as I could once I could leave the office. I’m really sorry.’

‘Don’t — it’s okay.’ I packed whatever I had left that would also match the typical volume of her purchases. From the corner of my eye, I saw her pacing up and down the shop, holding herself tightly. Every breath she made reached my ears. She wasn’t fine. Forget small talk then. Just like it wasn’t my business what she did with enough meat to feed a large animal in a day every month, it wasn’t my business why she looked close to falling over.

Maybe it was.

I called her over to the cashier, where approximately four kilogrammes of raw meat awaited her. Despite her stature, she never had any difficulties making it out of the shop with that much in tow. That might not be the case today. She was having a tough time simply getting her wallet out of her bag, and she looked absolutely sickly. Were those … were those tears in her eyes?

I really shouldn’t.

I really should.

‘Hey, are you alright? You don’t look too good,’ I said. Understatement: she appeared to be deteriorating by the second.

‘I’m fine,’ she insisted as she struggled with her wallet this time. I narrowed my eyes at her for a better look at what I thought I saw: her canines extending and swelling into fangs. A cross between a hiccup and a sob squeaked past her throat and into the open.

‘You can come back for payment tomorrow. I can help you with this to your car.’ No, it was now my social responsibility not to let her get behind the wheel. She was barely able to stand. ‘Or I can drop you off at your place … or somewhere nearby if you’re more comfortable with that.’

‘I’m fine,’ she growled.

Literally.

‘Shit, I’m so sorry,’ she said. ‘I didn’t mean to.’

‘It’s … okay …?’ Sorry, my attention was hijacked by the sight of claws, honest-to-God claws, fucking splitting her fingernails open.

She left £100 on the counter and grabbed the parcels I made for her. ‘Please keep the change. You’ve been so kind. I can’t — I can’t come back here anymore.’

I wasn’t given a chance to question why she felt that way. Whatever was plaguing her — and scaring me a little, I had to admit — didn’t give her a chance either to make it out the door, as she’d collapsed not far from the counter. I had no idea how I could even let her walk out alone in the state she was in. I rushed to the phone. ‘I’m calling for help,’ I said.

She got to her hands and knees. That was … encouraging. I think. ‘No, please don’t. You need to go.’ Her voice was distorted and rumbly. Her blouse started to tear across her back, revealing a thin, but growing, layer of … hair. Fur, more like. Not so encouraging anymore.

‘I can’t leave you here alone. What is happening to you?’

She buried her face in her hands — or whatever they were becoming as they stretched and popped. Her feet burst out of her shoes, the same changes happening to them. ‘Don’t laugh.’

‘I promise.’ The rapid decline of her health from when she came in, the physical changes wracking her body, and the animalistic noises she was making drained what I was witnessing dry of any humour. I doubted there was any to begin with. I felt almost like I was seeing something I wasn’t supposed to.

‘Werewolf. I’m a’ — a bark, involuntary, broke up her sentence — ‘werewolf.’

I went to her. Outside, the shades of violet and orange the sky had been awash with were muddling into a dark blue. I ducked my head a little to verify the shape of the moon tonight. None of the passers-by thought to look inside. At this point, I was more worried about someone else becoming privy to her secret than I was about the image of my shop. I didn’t understand how this was happening. It made sense and no sense at the same time.

‘You can stay in the storeroom tonight. You’ll be safe.’

She kept her head down. ‘Your boss? Okay?’ Her speech was strained.

‘I’m the boss of me.’ I knew my decision not to hire extra help would pay off someday. ‘Come on.’

‘Thank you.’

She stood up. I shifted my gaze elsewhere, as tempting as it was to see what a werewolf looked like mid-transformation. I showed her the way to the storeroom. It was due for a cleanup anyway. Her constant twitching and whining next to me didn’t go unnoticed. I took it to mean that she was controlling herself from either changing completely until I was out of her way or hurting me. I could be completely way off base, of course. The only piece of werewolf media I ever consumed was An American Werewolf in London (I was more of a zombie person myself), and … well, from what I’d seen tonight, the filmmakers got the transformation right, I’d say.

She took off what was left of her clothes once she was inside, and her transformation … accelerated. I closed the door to give her privacy — and to drown out the horrific noises. Nothing about the human body should produce what I was hearing. Things went quiet, eventually. I opened the door ever so slightly. ‘I’ll be here all night,’ I said despite not knowing whether she’d know what I was saying, ‘so you won’t be alone.’ I should be safe on this side of the door: the change had stripped her of opposable thumbs. The keyword was ‘should’.

The darkness coupled with her black fur made it impossible for me to see the creature she had become. Did I want to see? I still couldn’t shake off the feeling like I’d been some kind of voyeur; her appearance mattered naught to me, though I’d understand if she thought — she likely did — it would. Then she threw herself against the door, slamming both the actual thing and the door to my maiden glimpse at a real werewolf shut.

She loosed a howl that drove home the point that I had a werewolf in my storeroom. That I had been selling meat to a werewolf for her consumption. That the sweet, cheery petite lady who came in once a month was a werewolf. I wondered, then, if what she was like as a human carried over to her wolf self. If it did, I should be safe, right?

… There it was again: ‘should’.

I went back to what I was doing before what I knew about this world had been violently upended. I thanked God — should I? Did He or did He not exist? — that tomorrow was my day off. I was going to spend it with a good book and minimal to no human contact in the comfort of my living room. Now I was only interested in contemplating my place in the universe. What else was out there? Were any of the people walking past as I went to advertise the shop’s official closure for the day harbouring similar secrets as well?

Baleful whines transcended the door and filled the air. I picked up the parcels she’d dropped. Could she be hungry? It was worth a shot. I unwrapped one parcel. The closer I got to the storeroom, the more charged she got. I never dreamt I’d get to know the extent of damage a werewolf’s claws could do to a door in this lifetime. I threw the slab of meat as deep inside as I could. While she went to examine what it was that I’d left to her mercy, I turned on the lights to benefit us both.

What I got to see at last was ineffective in reeling in my disbelief. Where I’d left a quaking, infirm woman now stood a massive black wolf rending raw meat like paper. Despite looking almost indistinguishable from an ordinary wolf, there was an unsettling quality to her proportions and demeanour that made it hard for me to remember my manners and stop fucking staring. She was … beautifully horrifying and frighteningly stunning all at once. In some sick, twisted way, it made sense that something like her — something like what she’d become — couldn’t have come about naturally.

She turned to look at me, her jaw dripping with blood and her tail … wagging.

I regained control of my senses quickly enough to leave. The slamming of the door failed to mute her whimper at — missing out on her chance at a tasty human? Being alone in the storeroom again? Best I didn’t read too much into it. I fed her the rest of the meat she bought. She refused to eat the last piece, yet she wailed when I left her be.

‘I don’t think I’d taste very good. I’m lean and stringy,’ I said through the crack in the door. ‘And bland, like most English food.’

I didn’t know what to make of the bark that followed my attempt at a witticism.

I felt bad for her. Wolves were social animals, weren’t they? Then again, who’d feel bad for me upon discovering my mutilated body in my shop? No one had attempted to romanticise werewolves like the likes of Anne Rice and the Twilight author had done with vampires, and probably with good reason, as I willed myself to remember how she, a soft-spoken woman an hour ago, devoured almost four kilogrammes of meat in record time. The ending of An American Werewolf in London wasn’t a happy one, for God’s sake! (Maybe I should stop invoking God’s name for now.)

‘Can you understand me?’ I said. ‘Bark … um, bark twice for yes’, so it wouldn’t be a coincidence.

And she did.

Well, fuck me.

I sighed. ‘Are you … are you lonely? Bark twice for yes.’

Silence.

For the longest time, until she barked again, softly, mournfulness plain to hear in the two notes.

✦✧✦✧

My back! G— fuck, my back. How the fuck did I sleep last night?

Right. I slept in a chair outside the storeroom.

I stretched to get rid of the kinks in my back. Yeah, that was it. That was the spot. No, that one. That other one was definitely it. Relief — sweet, glorious relief. How the hell did I even fall asleep in a chair anyway?

‘Hey, you’re awake.’

I turned to the direction of the voice that had no reason to be here at this time of day. Or at all. No one was allowed here but me. Why was I in the shop? Wasn’t today my day off? What happened last night? Why, of all things instead, did I remember not to use God’s name as a synonym for ‘fuck’? I also didn’t remember finding religion last night. I pinched the bridge of my nose. I needed water.

I focused my eyes on the figure in front of me.

It was her.

Oh.

Oh.

‘Yeah, I am now.’ Without a doubt. ‘How are you?’

She declined my offer to have my seat. My legs demanded that I continue standing to get the blood flowing. ‘I’m fine,’ she said. I could believe her this time. She was wearing one of my aprons over the tattered remnants of her clothes. ‘Thank you for … um.’ Her pause made me think her admission last night was the first time she said those words out loud to someone else. ‘Thank you.’

‘It was nothing. You looked … really sick yesterday’: I took a leaf out of her book

She smiled. ‘It’s okay. You don’t have to be polite. I know what I am.’ Her words were shaded with the same tint of sadness as when she confided in me about her loneliness.

‘No. You — the wolf — you were …’ Tame? She wasn’t an animal. She was … ‘You didn’t hurt — I’m fine.’ I held up both my hands to show her the absence of any marks, and she could very well see I wasn’t missing any limbs. ‘I’m fine,’ I repeated, ‘except for this sudden bout of scrambled egg for brains, but in my defence (or not), this is how I am a fair bit of the time. Who put me in charge of a meat slicer?’

‘You’re very kind. And cute,’ I thought I heard her say under her breath. ‘Thank you. How can I repay you for last night?’

‘You don’t have to. The meat’s on the house, too.’ Nothing to do with what I thought she said. ‘I’ll return you your £100 on the way out.’

‘No. Please. I could’ve done something bad to you.’

‘But you didn’t.’

‘Please. There has to be something I can do for you. I’d feel terrible otherwise.’

I truly wanted nothing from her. I survived a night with a werewolf. That by itself was a fantastic reward. I couldn’t have asked for anything better. Well …

‘Were you serious about not coming to my shop anymore?’

‘I … if that’s what you want, I can go elsewhere. If you’re going to tell the other butchers not to sell to me because of what I am, that’s okay, too. I’ll figure something out.’

‘No. G— shit. That’s awful. I’m not —’ Why did she always jump to the worst conclusions about me? ‘No, promise me you’ll come back to my shop. That’s all I ask. And … your name. You’ve been coming here for years, and I don’t even know your name.’ I knew some of my customers’ names — and not necessarily the ones that mattered. Like her. ‘It’s not about the business I get from you, by the way. I don’t care what you are. I don’t know why you are what you are, and I have so many questions, but I do know it’s none of my business. I won’t judge.’

She nodded. ‘Thank you. I promise. I’ll come back. I’ll come back when it’s not the full moon and I didn’t skip lunch because I was too busy with work. And my name’s Eloise.’

‘I’m George.’

‘It’s lovely to meet you, George. Now you know why I buy so much meat on one day of every month. You’re the only person who knows what I am.’

‘I won’t tell anyone. You have my word.’

‘Thank you. I know I’ve said that a lot of times already, but I mean each and every one of them.’ Her eyes roved around the space. ‘I should go now. I have work in a couple of hours at best … or I’m late at worst. And you probably need to get ready, too. You should be opening soon … or I’ve made you late. It’s on your door.’

‘I have the day off today. Great timing, huh? Are you sure you’re good to drive?’

‘Yes, I can definitely manage much better today than I would’ve have yesterday. I don’t know what I was thinking. I was just so hungry …’ She shook her head, expelling a breath signalling disapproval. ‘I’ll return this’ — she yanked at an apron strap — ‘to you tomorrow as well.’

‘Actually … one more thing. So we’re really even.’

‘Yes?’

‘Would you perhaps like to meet for coffee later, please?’ I could only navel-gaze for so long.

She looked taken aback. That and her response, articulated in three softly spoken words — ‘I’d love to’, led me to believe that what she was like as a human did indeed carry over to her wolf self.

[radramblog]

Eldritch Moon my beloved

I think most Magic players are going to have a favourite set. Often that’s going to be one they started playing with, or one that really got them into the game, or one that had a limited or standard format they really enjoyed. A lot of people won’t, and that’s okay, they’re allowed, it’s hard to pick favourites sometimes.

But for me, it’s Eldritch Moon, aka the last time we went to Innistrad, and things got a bit more tentacular.

Eldritch Moon had a lot working against it from the get-go.

The Shadows block immediately followed the Battle for Zendikar block, one which a lot of people Didn’t Like. Whether it be for some of the more questionable art direction, for the relatively weak cards and boring parasitic mechanics, and for arguably some of the lamest story the game has had to date. More relevantly, though, it was a pair of sets where a fan-favourite plane was essentially dominated by squid monsters and lost a lot of its unique identity in the process- gone was the fun D&D-esque adventure world, replaced by stark wastelands and a war story with like one good story article. It’s the Tazri one.

And then the next set was Shadows over Innistrad. Another return to a fan-favourite plane, with a huge mystery being built up as to why everything was going to shit again. Why Avacyn and her angels were turning on humanity, why there are all these funky stones everywhere, what exactly Nahiri was doing fucking around on the plane of someone she apparently doesn’t like very much.

There were cryptic hints in the set itself. Its title is a reference to the Lovecraft story, Shadows over Innsmouth, with a fair few cards alluding to the story itself. A few cards did have subtle tentacles in the art, as well as subtle warping of flesh and world. The most damning clue came in the form of a puzzle regarding different flavour texts for the card Tamiyo’s Journal, which gave a particular phrase- “Remember this: they came as three”- flavour text from a Battle for Zendikar card referring to the three Eldrazi Titans, only two of which had been dealt with in that story.

Despite this, people still denied that this was the plot-to-be. There were still rumours that it was somehow Marit Lage again after all this time, or that the threat was a new one, or that it was somehow the Gitrog Monster’s fault. Personally, I wanted to believe this, and desperately didn’t want the next set to be Eldrazi-themed- I’d gotten pretty sick of them from BfZ and OGW and was very much enjoying all the new Werewolves and Madness cards and Delirium mechanic. This was at the point where I was drafting at FNM weekly, and the fun differential between the two blocks was stark.

But of course, the mystery was revealed. It was old god Emrakul the whoooole time! Quelle fucking surprise. And yet it ended up being significantly better than the previous block, for a number of reasons.

Firstly, the story is just kind of better. We get to see distinctly through the cards and the plot how the influence of Emrakul has affected the regular citizens of Innistrad, and how all its various factions- the Church, the vampire manors, the packs of werewolves, et cetera- were all twisted in her visage. We get to see the desperate fight against them, with all these gothic horrors warring against eldritch horrors, and against themselves. And we get both Jace doing some surreal journey-to-the-centre-of-the-mind shit while Liliana gets to be the hero and Tamiyo gives us an ending that raises more questions than it answers.

Also, Sorin gets stuck in a rock. Fuck that guy, Nahiri was always cooler, and fuck War of the Spark for apparently just having them make up off screen.

Secondly, the cards. Flavourwise, the three Eldrazi Titans’ corrupting influence manifests differently for each- Ulamog consumes and drains the world, Kozilek corrupts the mind and wreaks havoc on space, and Emrakul? As we see, Emrakul twists flesh into new and horrifying shapes, that the set’s cards display in loving and disgusting detail. While Ulamog and Kozilek’s drones were clearly a part of themselves, the Eldrazi of Innistrad all used to be something much more reasonable before Emrakul made it to the plane.

There are three types of Eldrazi in this set. Firstly- the transform mechanic from Innistrads previous has been played with to suit the needs of the flavour. With the exception of Ulrich, every single double-faced card represents a creature from the world, be it Human or Werewolf or otherwise, that is touched by Emrakul and makes a permanent transformation into something else. There’re masses of limbs, shapes echoing Emrakul herself, and flesh in configurations that Should Not Be. The shift on every card is stark, and in every case, you have to actively put in effort to push them over the edge- and off a cliff which they cannot come back from. This is especially true with the Meld mechanic, with the cards fusing into this giant monstrosity that literally dwarfs every other card on the table.

The next type of EMN-drazi is the Emerge creatures. The mechanic was extremely fun, almost all the cards were eminently playable in at least one format (mostly just limited), and the art is spooky. The flavour of some guy on your table getting fucking chestbursted and having fucking Elder Deep-Fiend pop out is incredible, and each is a great way of showing how the regular fauna of the plane (and flora, like, I think Lashweed Lurker is a plant or something) are mutating in response to the creature’s presence.

Finally, there’s the cards that make 3/2 Eldrazi Horror tokens. There’s less of these and they’re less intense, but by and large they’re a representation of the regular people being affected by the whole thing. Just about every card that makes one of these involves a creature dying in some way (Desperate Sentry, Otherworldly Outburst) or being spawned by an existing mass of flesh (Hanweir, Howling Chorus), and it gives this sense that everybody is affected by this effect.

Of course, that was also a thing in Battle for Zendikar block. The whole thing was Eldrazi, Eldrazi, Eldrazi, with even vanilla 4/3 worms having something to say about fighting them. They key difference of Eldritch Moon is that the flavour of the world is still preserved outside of this Eldrazi presence.

What I’m saying is- the gothic horror of Innistrad is still present despite the eldritch horror of the set’s antagonist. There’s still a corrupt and violent church (albeit with a few more tentacles now), there are still cults and Frankenstein zombies and vampires and werewolves. Innistrad’s tone is compatible enough with the Eldrazi’s that the combination enhances the two rather than diminishes them.

The final thing I want to say is just- the set’s really fun. It has a bunch of my favourite classic limited cards- Thermo-Alchemist, Ulvenwald Captive, and Boon of Emrakul- along with multi-format all-stars like Grim Flayer and Collective Brutality. It has big potential get-there moments with the Meld cards and some of the flip Eldrazi, and splashy interesting cards like Emrakul herself and Harmless Offering. The set drips with flavour that enhances the gameplay, with very little wasted space.

It’s a set I only really have two complaints about. Firstly- lol Ulrich isn’t good and wasn’t what basically any werewolf fan was after. And two- it suffers from an eternal issue that Magic only recently solved, in that it’s a Small Set with a pile of mechanics that it cannot possibly fully explore in its 200 or so cards. The biggest victim of this is Meld, as they could only fit 3 pairs in under the restraints of the set size. And that’s a real shame, considering that it’s a mechanic that we’re probably never seeing again, especially considering the recent Midnight Hunt. I really think there was a missed opportunity to not have a few leftover Eldrazi in that set- whatever happened to the Dronepack? Or the corrupted vampire houses? I suppose, though, that “I want more!” can be the best complaint a creator can get.

Eldritch Moon had big shoes to fill. However, in my eyes, it didn’t just fill those shoes. It filled them and kept filling them until its distended toes burst out the front and sides of the shoes and just kept growing, and bending in really weird ways, and I think I’ve lost the plot of this metaphor. It’s my favourite Magic set, and I don’t see that changing for a while.

[angeli-marco-writes]

Charlie Weasley - Secret

A/N - This is my first imagine thing uploaded on Tumblr, and I’m uploading the smutty version of this story on this platform before posting the more PG version to my wattpad collection. Check it out: angeli-marco. Also this somehow became a Gryffindor reader kinda thing, it’s just what works but imagine you’re not in Gryffindor if you fancy.

Warnings - smut, rough sex, choking, kinky, all that jazz. Starting this blog off with a bang, literally. 6k words of p*rn with plot.

Summary - you have a secret regarding the dragon taming Weasley. The only issue is that he sees you as the child you were a few years ago. When you become legal, he seems to seek you out wherever you are. Maybe he has a secret, too.

YOU HAD A SECRET, a secret that no one beside yourself and your best friend knew, not that you’d readily admit to anyone that for your first three years at Hogwarts, you’d had a crush on none other than Charlie Weasley. Now, beginning your seventh year, having not seen him in three years, you’re surprised to find that your crush still lingers.

You’ve kept the notes that he wrote you, since the pair of you were actually quite close, Charlie tucking you under his wing once he found out your love of magical creatures. He nurtured your passion for the outdoors from the start of your second year. He sent notes, would help you access the forest, and he’d show you drawings of all these magical creatures that he wanted tattooed once he was older. He was the best.

All of these thoughts catch up to you while you’re lying in your tent, eyes closed and dreams clouding your vision, willing you to sleep. Until you hear yells.

Screams come from outside, howls and wails, yells for help and sacrifice. Not the kind of happy bellows that you’d expect after the World Cup Quidditch match. And then all of a sudden, moonlight beams in through the canvas of your one-man luxury tent and illuminates shadows you haven’t seen before, making you dwell in eeriness. 

A head pops into your tent, followed by a voice, one that’s so familiar it makes your stomach ache and the hairs on your arm stand on edge. 

“Whoever’s in here, you need to go! Get to safety, now!”

Charlie. As clear as day.

“I’m coming, what’s happening?” You call back, voice shaky while you try to stand up, legs nearly bowing and giving way beneath you. 

“Death Eaters. Wait, Y/N?” 

He recognises you from your voice. Your body feels electrified already. Not the right time, you scold yourself, but you can’t help feeling a little pride that he still remembers you. 

“It’s me, Charlie, I’ll come to fight with you.”

You hear him stutter from outside, but within seconds, he’s raced across the expanse of your tent and has his arm wrapped around your waist.

“You’re too young,” he insists, but you just pull your wand out and look at him.

His blue eyes twinkle, even in a moment like this, and you feel as though he’s boring into your soul, which in all fairness you wouldn’t say no to.

You sigh, “I’m of age and I’m here alone, don’t think I’m not coming, Dragon Boy.”

He smirks at the nickname you gave him so many years ago, but smiles and brings you outside, still gripping onto you in any way he can.

You run to the centre of the outbreak. Men in masks levitating helpless muggles , the Ministry and other helpers already failing at bringing them down. It’s worse than you could’ve imagined. Charlie pulls you behind him, gripping your wrist with a determination, a protectiveness, one that he still had back in the day. Though it’s not the time, you feel your stomach flutter, even letting out a giggle at his gesture mere seconds before running out from behind him.

You proceed to run into the centre of the action, Charlie not far behind, calling out your name in the most desperate way you’ve heard him speak. 

What he doesn’t realise is how much you’ve grown over the past few years. You’ve become trained in combat, mostly thanks to Professor Lupin, and you’re really bloody good at it. You have virtually every possible spell in your arsenal, ones that many ministry members mayn’t even know, all thanks to Lupin again who gave you one on one lessons and prepared you for anything. Not to mention that you play Quidditch for your house team, something that you always admired Charlie for, but now you’re extremely agile, ready for almost anything, and prepared to fight. 

What you see is pure injustice, people being persecuted for their blood, all for a sick game. You’re a little scared, that’s a given, but you know it isn’t right, so aim a stunning spell straight at the chest of the tallest man in a mask. Non verbally, so he doesn’t see you coming. He falls to up the ground, wand discarded, a wand which you happily take and slot into your pocket. Your thought process is that you’ll take the men down one by one, maybe with a little help since you are only a 17 year old girl, while the weak ass ministry workers try what’s best for their image. 

And really, that’s the way it goes. A good while later, when you’ve participated in a couple of duels, ended up flat on your arse in front of everyone, with a cut on your cheek and anger roaring in your blood, only then do you get a rest.

Charlie and his brother helped duel the masked men, taking them down, while the Ministry brought the muggles down to their Rightful Place and proceeded to wipe their memories. Horrible ordeal, all done incorrectly for press, especially since every single man got away, at least that’s what you counted. You tuck your wand away in your pyjamas. Certainly not the right clothes you wanted to be wearing when meeting Charlie again, but so be it. 

You sit on the floor, looking up at the stars and hollow moon, really hungry and a little shaken up. You have a cold compress on your face, well, a tissue that you used an aguamenti charm to dampen and proceeded to lay it over your pounding forehead, throbbing eyes and bruising cut. 

“Let me help you with that,” Charlie says, coming to sit beside you. You didn’t hear him approaching, so his sudden presence takes you by surprise. Surprise that evaporates the second he lays his hand on your thigh. 

“Fancy seeing you here,” you quip, nudging his shoulder, “didn’t think you’d recognise me.”

It’s true, you really didn’t. You would’ve thought that you’d have to prove your identity with the notes he wrote you and by inside jokes you ice had, but he recognised you solely by your voice, very rare. You’ve changed a lot since your third year, growing taller, filling out, gaining a very desirable figure and you changed your style completely, including a complete makeover of your hair, and a nose piercing. 

“How could I not? You still sound the same as ever.”

Once again, true. No matter what other hormonal and physical changes you’ve endured, not one of them included losing the babyish feature that your voice held, constantly making you sound like you’re dosed up on a little helium.

“And, you’re still as cute, but very... um...”

Wow. You have Charlie speechless, what a rarity. He has two modes, silent, or never shutting up, and the latter usually only comes when he’s with friends.

“Grown up?” You offer, turning to face him with a small smirk painted on your lips.

He chuckles, a low rumbling sound from the bottom of his throat while his eyes tiresomely yank themselves away from your best features, “yeah, you could say that.”

He brings an arm around your waist, shuffling along the ground to sit beside you, and then a warm hand encloses over your own, the one holding the bloody cloth to your face. Slowly, he takes the cloth away and replaces its positioning with rough, calloused fingers, tracing the outline of your cut. 

“Tergeo,” Charlie murmurs, and he watches all the blood and debris disappear from your face, leaving a clean cut.

You stare into his eyes, feeling the same thing of fireflies in your bloodstream as you did when he looked into your eyes when you were all but a child. It’s illuminating, he makes you feel seen, he makes you feel special. He edges forwards, and forwards, until your breath mingles together...

“Try this!” He exclaims with a fake enthusiasm, jolting his head away from your own and clearing his throat with as much subtlety as a Hebridean black.

Charlie withdraws a small, battered tin from his pocket, placing it shakily into your open palm.

“I use it all the time on the sanctuary,” he opens the tin, places one finger inside, and swipes a cooling, vanilla scented balm over your cut.

You wince, involuntary flinching away from him, but your hand grips his string thigh. He contracts and calms beneath your touch as he rubs the balm over your cut, and you can almost feel it recovering.

“As good as new,”

Charlie brushes his lips against your forehead, the way he used to do,  it ignites something special in you both this time.

He hesitates. “You’re still at school, aren’t you?” You nod, tucking your hair behind both ears, smiling up at him shyly. “I’ll see you sooner than you expect, I promise, but I have to be with my family now.”

Bemusement flashes over your face, but instead of questioning it and ruining the mystery, you just settle for a smile. Slotting your palm in his, Charlie steadies you to your feet and swiftly pulls you flush against him. 

“You look so beautiful, Y/N, so grown up. I miss you.”

His voice cracks, neediness clear in his deep, dulcet tones. He wraps his arms around your almost bare shoulders, allowing yours to fall around his waist. He’s grown impossibly taller, gained even more muscle, and his heart has most definitely swelled in his absence. 

“I miss you too,” you murmur against his chest, the words getting lost within his chest, the warmth of his skin on your face through a tear in his shirt. You could quite happily stay in his arms all day, all night and never get tired. 

Soon, though, he withdraws and holds you at arms length, observing every blemish on your face and the way your eyelashes curl and the way your lips quirk into a smile at the mere thought of him. You want him to wander further, for his eyes to follow down your body, the way your bust is accentuated in your scrappy pyjama top, and the way your 3/4 leg pyjama bottoms fall low on your hip and stay snug around you with no effort at all; but he stays with his eyes fixed on yours.

“Stay safe.”

And with a kiss, the brush of his stubble on your cheek, he’s gone and you’re left to wonder if him being beside you tonight was just a dream.

-x-

It’s been months since you saw Charlie last, despite his promise that he’d see you sooner than anticipated. You, however, had expected to see him there as a new teacher on September 1st, but your wish didn’t come true. 

Your first two months at school weren’t too bad: a decent DADA teacher (nothing on Lupin though), no escaped prisoners, no escaped trolls or petrified students, and you could safely say that it was the most normal year you’d had so far at Hogwarts, at least since Harry Potter started. 

That basic joy and normality evaporated with the announcement of the tournament, which you most unequivocally would not enter under any circumstances, so you stayed out of the way ever since. You couldn’t be arsed with the other schools, nor all the gossip about the tasks, and you instead continued to busy yourself with your nightly creature endeavours. You’d walk to all your favourite spots where unicorns, nifflers, bowtruckles and more stayed, but not once did you bump into Charlie.

You began to feel defeated, lost, like you wouldn’t see him again and he’d just been lying, or maybe it was all a dream. But tonight, your walk is different. 

The sun set early, late November creeping in and enveloping you in a warm blanket of darkness, the moon comforting you. It’s not even curfew yet, nowhere near, but maybe you’ll stay out here until sunrise, nap beneath the stars, all curled up with an aethonan winged horse, but deep within the forest you hear clattering. There’s yells, roars, sudden blasts of light, and your curiosity gets the best of you.

You crawl all through the trees and bushes, finding a comfortable path, only to come across four huge dragons in their pens, a collection of wizards, all dressed the same as Charlie, dotted around them. And then, only then, do you see his twinkling blue eyes, a breath of fire from one of the dragons reflecting in them.

“Charlie!” You cry out, not caring about any form of common courtesy on your endeavour through the final brambles until you fall straight into his arms. 

“I told you I’d see you soon.” He smirks, but you can just tell that he’s itching to grin like a Cheshire Cat.

You climb him like a vine, legs wrapped around his waist and arms around his neck. You tug at his man-bun and watch as his Adam’s apple bobs up and down. His face falters, cheeks a flaming red, and once again he clears his throat. He turns his head away awkwardly, still keeping his grip on you, so he doesn’t anticipate when you cup his jaw and angle his gaze towards you once more. 

“Do you want to kiss me, Charlie?” You ask, voice low and sultry, hips rearranging themselves atop him. 

He stutters, tongue tied, pupils blown wide with lust but the colour drains from his face. You repeat yourself, eyes boring into his with a ferocity you haven’t felt since that night in August. His freckled eyelids fall shut for a couple of seconds, crinkling in the corners, and then they shoot open, his nose nudging yours, lips grazing yours...

“Charlie!”

He sighs, putting you down onto the ground, and he turns his back momentarily which allows you to examine the way the moonlight ripples over his leather jacket. 

“What, mate?” He calls, the most exasperated time you’ve ever heard him use, and you can see his heavenly back muscles tensing through his clothes.

“A little hand over here?” A European accent calls him over. “When shithead gets back from his food run, then you can run off with your girlfriend, but for now we need help.”

Charlie rolls his eyes and slumps his chest forwards. Clearly he’s not happy, and you can’t blame him. It’s a lovely evening that could be silent shagging you, but he has to spend it being burnt by dragons.

“You’ve had an impact on their language then, they’ll be yelling ‘BOLLOCKS’ soon if you’re not careful.” Charlie chuckles at your quip and brings you into his side. 

“You still like animals, right? Fancy giving us a hand?”

You know Charlie well enough to know that he’s actually serious, so he sheds his jacket to wrap around your shoulders, and brings you toward the centre of the fire pit with him. You get strange looks from all the other dragon tamers and you can’t blame them. A girl like yourself, you don’t much look like a dragon tamer, but anything for Charlie.

The task is easier than you anticipated anyway, giving you ample opportunity to watch Charlie’s body, the way he moves, the way he smiles, and you even catch a glimpse of a few tattoos. You feel heat flowing to your core, desperate for him to just snog you already.

All you really have to do is cling to the rough skin of Charlie’s hand and dodge fire, occasionally shooting stunning spells at the Horntail or pulling on some chains to keep the creatures tethered. The beasts truly are magnificent, and it’d be a lot easier to take notes on them and examine them a little more closely if it weren’t for Charlie’s cute bum looking far too tight in his jeans, making your fingers ache to touch him. 

You shrug his jacket off when curfew approaches, only just keeping time by slanting his wrist towards yours every so often, and so you drape it back over his shoulders, unwittingly giving him a kind of bear hug. He brings you around to his front, your legs settling comfortably on his hips, and he smirks at you. Bloody hell, just his smirk does things to you. 

His breath mingles with yours, fogging your vision from the way it steams in the cold, night air. The moon shines down and illuminates constellations with each and every one of Charlie’s freckles. You slip a hand to his cheek, resting it on his stubble for just a moment while you stare longingly into his eyes. There’s no need to rush such a beautiful moment, but then he dips his head a little in order to catch your lips in a slow, savoured kiss, allowing every feeling the two of you harbour each other to be portrayed through the slow, deft dance if his lips on yours, passion exchanged when his tongue slips into your mouth, longing and urgency once he begins to fervently nibble at your lip...

“Fuck, Charlie...” you moan into his mouth, his hips involuntarily rutting against your core. You can feel just how much he wants this. 

His eyes are shut, holding you against him with one hand slipped under your bum and the other exploring your back beneath your top. You kiss him again, needier this time, breathier, and you just pray that everything you feel can be portrayed in your mix of reverent kisses and sultry movements, your hips grinding down on him. 

You pull away, gasping for air, rubbing your thumb over the curve of his cheek. You didn’t even notice your other hand moving to fist at his shirt for support, too lost in the moment. Your eyes flutter open and you search his for some kind of a tell tale sign that he just snogged you senseless, and you can see it in how lust-blown his pupils are. The earth cracks beneath the two of you while you’re still wrapped in the security of your kiss, but eventually you slip from his waist and land steadily on the floor, minuscule in comparison to his stature.

“I’ll wedge the portrait open and I’ll see you later. Don’t be too late. I’m sure you know how to sneak into the girls dorms by now.” You whisper to him, your voice carried away with the roars of the dragons and the nightly breeze.

And with a wink, you’re gone, with Charlie left dumbfounded, feet behind as you walk away into the depths of the forest, only to emerge the other side more flustered than ever before.

-x-

As soon as you reach your dormitory, you’re glad to see that all your roommates have disappeared, probably to their significant others' beds, or late night training help for Diggory just to watch him work out. You, however, have no inclination for anything or anyone other than Charlie. 

You tidy your bed as much as you can manage, tucking clothes away wherever you can in as small a time frame as you have, leaving ample time to let your nerves subside and your tension to dissipate before getting ready for Charlie’s arrival, you just hope to Merlin that he’ll turn up. The way he kissed you gave you he, the way he savoured you in every sense, kind yet needy, soft yet burning. Just the thought makes you rise in goosebumps, let alone imagining what he’ll do to you tonight. 

Finally, after what feels like a lifetime has passed, you’re lying in your four-poster with the covers wrapped around your body, the silk slip you put on leaving nothing to the imagination with the way it brushes your hips and clings to the swells of your breasts, moonlight shimmering on the fabric with any movement, the material almost not even daring to skim your skin from how in control you are of your body in that rare moment of power over yourself, and then you hear a knock, all of your composure flying out the window. 

“Hey beautiful, it’s me.”

His voice sounds like molten honey with a slight rasp and you’ve never heard anything more perfect, so with as much normality as you can, you open the door to him.

“Fucking hell...”

The words tumble from his mouth so freely upon the sight of you, hair swept off your face with a scrunchie and nothing but your well chosen slip gracing your body, Charlie looks as though he may combust. 

You step aside while Charlie awkwardly walks over the threshold into your dorm, no doubt one that he spent many nights in when he was a seventh year, but as soon as the chestnut door swings shut, he’s got you pressed against it with his chapped lips hovering over your own, the rough material of his jeans tantalising on your bare thighs. 

“Did you think it was funny for you to kiss me like that? Climb all over me? Touching me relentlessly? I couldn’t concentrate, your ass in those leggings and you wearing my jacket, I’ve never seen anything so sexy.” He croons in your ear, causing you to involuntarily mewl and buck your hips against his. You were already at his mercy, clinging to his jacket and clawing at the back of his neck while he holds you up, the wood chilling on your tingling spine. 

“When I left, you know, I thought I’d never see you as more than a friend, but now? The World Cup? You’ve gotten so mature, and your body, sweet Merlin. You’re all I want.”

You release a strangled moan, not wanting to let him know just how much his words are riling you up, but you’re sure he can already tell by the quirk of his lips, upturning into a smirk, a special glint in his eye that he was notorious for in his last year. 

“Are we gonna do this? I’ve fancied you since I was twelve, Charlie, please.”

He chuckles at your desperation, but sheds his leather jacket nonetheless and steadies you on your feet once more. Within seconds, you’re pouncing on him and beginning to strip his shirt, pulling it out from his jeans and up over his head. He seems equally as eager as you with the way his hands take a bruising grip onto your hips, scared of stripping you of your only covering just yet. 

You run your hands all over his tanned, muscular torso, covered in burns and tattoos and a fine dusting of dark ginger hair. There’s a Romanian Longhorn on his right peck, a Norwegian ridgeback on his left bicep (slightly distorted from a bad burn), an animated Zouwo on his hip and a crup pup on his perfectly angled shoulder blade. Charlie’s gonna be the death of you, you can just sense it by the heat radiating off his body. 

Your eyes bulge as the pad of your finger trails the swells and dips of his abs, and the way his muscles ripple is divine, you may just puddle at his feet.

“I swear, Charlie...” you murmur, your fingers deftly working on his jeans, shoving them down his hips before winding your arms around his neck.

He lets out a broken groan when you tug his hair, weaving your fingers into his unruly red locks. He holds your waist and slowly grips the flimsy fabric in his big hands, allowing your back to arch against him from how electrifying his touch is on your upper thighs and now bare hips...

He kisses your collarbone, sucks marks on your neck, fans his hot breath over the shell of your ear, peppers feather light kisses to your jawline; all of them make you whimper, shivering and trembling like a leaf against his body from his other ministrations as well as the work of his lips. Until finally, his mouth slants over yours and his arms curl around your thighs, wrapping them around his bared torso, every inch of him carved by a Greek god. He slips his tongue into your mouth, savouring the moan that slides from your lips, swallowing it and keeping you for his own. He walks backwards until his knees hit the side of your bed, allowing you to clamber onto his body and latch your teeth onto his earlobe, biting a mark just below.

“Fuck baby...” he whispers. He grips your hips and ass to control your movements on top of him, feeling his boxers just tighten even more. “Your ass is perfect...”

He hikes your nightgown up even more, bunching it above your waist, while he massages the globes of your ass, kneading them between his rough fingers and pulling your ass cheeks apart for him. Just by those simple ministrations, you know that you’re in for a rough night.

“Fuck me, dragon boy,” you plead, eyes trained on his as his entire being is overcome with a desire to devour you, you can tell by the way his nose scrunches and his lips upturn into the most devilish smirk you’ve ever seen on anyone.

“That’s Daddy or Sir to you tonight, baby.”

The gasp that escapes your mouth is the most pornographic sound you’ve made in your life, not that you’ve had much experience to. His palm rubbing your pussy erases all inhibitions, and the thought that you should probably warn him you’re a virgin. Not completely, you’ve done stuff with guys before, but you’ve never gone further than third base, so your dildo is your only relief. That should be enough, right?

“You’re so wet for me, my sweet baby. I bet you taste amazing.” Already you’re mewling, clawing at his back, a whimpering mess and he isn’t even inside you yet.

Within a second you find yourself beneath him, hungry eyes looking at you as though you’re his prey, one hand planted firmly on your pillow beside your head and the other with two fingers knuckle deep inside you. You cry out in pleasure, toes curling, but it all just gets so much better when he begins to thrust his hand at an inhumane speed, fingers curling up inside you and pressing that perfect spot perfectly each time. Part of you expected him to start slow: one finger, shallow and slow thrusts; but he’s just going for it, and the ecstasy is incomparable to anything you’ve felt before.

“Are you already that weak for me?” He purrs.

Yes, yes you are. His movements, the flick of his wrist and the jolt of his fingers deep within whenever you clench around him. You can’t fathom a response, especially not when the heel of his hand continually hits your clit and his lips wrap themselves around your nipple.

“Fuck, Sir, I’m so close...” you whisper in his ear, yanking on his hair with one hand, eliciting a groan followed by a swift slap to your ass, his body now being held up by only his knees . 

The way your fingers thread and tangle in his red locks and pull a little too harshly makes him insert a third finger. He twists his fingers inside you, hitting more places than before, and he withdraws his hand. You whine a little at the loss of contact, and certainly don’t anticipate their plough back inside, sharp and vicious, you’re unprepared for the sudden rush of contact to your clit, and even less prepared for the way Charlies tongue licks a circle around your other nipple, so you come. Stars blur before your eyes, a strangled guttural cry leaving your throat as Charlie rides it out for you. You already feel spent, body lax after scratching marks into Charlie's back while you clenched and came totally undone around his hand.

When you look up, Charlie’s still hovering above you, glistening hand between the two of you. As your eyelashes flutter and you focus on him, he knows he has your attention, so brings his hand up to his mouth and curls his tongue around his fingers, all covered with your cum. He moans as he tastes you, the most erotic sound that’s ever graced your ears, and it may just be the most sensual thing you’ve seen in your life. A slight fire lights itself in your belly while watching him, immediately ready for round two, so you let both your eyes and your hands dance down his perfectly toned body to his boxers. Your fingers feebly wrap around his member through his shorts, grasping tightly to cause jolts of both pleasure and pain shooting up Charlie’s spine. He hisses through his teeth and immediately climbs off the bed, only to retrieve a shiny silver packet from his pocket.

“Are you gonna be a good girl, sweet baby, or am I gonna have to teach you a lesson?” He coos.

You never thought that you’d be into any of this stuff, the ‘Sir’ and ‘Good girl’ and the spanking, but Merlin’s beard it’s turning you on.

“I’ll be good for you, but only tonight Charlie.”

He seems dissatisfied by your answer. You can tell by the way he strikes the side of your ass with his palm and proceeds to look completely calm about it. You’re quite literally salivating though, his dominance increasing your pleasure tenfold.

“Fuck,” you whisper, backtracking in your mind, “I’ll do what you want, just fuck me.”

Your hands find the hem of his boxers, pulling them off in one fell swoop and throwing them to the other side of the room. He’s huge, long and a decent girth, so big that you’re slightly fearful. You made a fist around his dick and moved your hand up and down a couple of times, looking up at Charlie with innocent doe eyes that you can tell are driving you crazy by the way his cock twitches in your hand. You stroke him a little faster, thumb flicking over his tip and allowing the drop of pre-cum to lubricate a couple more jerks before you settle back down, watching Charlie as he intently focuses on rolling the condom down his throbbing length. Fuck, it’s beautiful.

“On your hands and knees.” He orders you in a throaty voice. You look at him with eyes full of scepticism but only for a moment before complying, sticking your ass in the air at the foot of your bed, just waiting for him to do something.

He brings his hand down on your ass again, the skin prickling a little, causing you to moan again, seemingly what he wants, because slowly he begins pushing into you. He starts slowly, just his tip entering you after he’s run his cock through your folds and collected your essence. He stretches as the rest of his length pushes in, cautiously placing a hand on the small of your back to steady himself. You clutch the sheets beneath you, pleasure overwhelming the pain.

“Is that ok? I’m not hurting you, am I?” Charlie sounds worried, hands rubbing around your waist and stomach soothingly.

“No, no it’s brilliant, but I don’t mind if you wanna hurt me…”

You can hear his breath hitch in his throat. “W-what do you mean? I don’t want to hurt you properly… what are you thinking of?”

Your pause is atmospheric, leaning into a yoga resembling pose with arms laying flat and your back arched to perfection, boobs pushed into your duvet. You hum, “Choking, maybe a little more spanking, just general rough sex. Mark me as yours.”

Charlie's knees almost buckle beneath him, removing a hand from caressing your body to steady himself on the poster of your bed. “You sure about this? I still wanna actually make love to you, I’m not all dominant…” You let out a soft chuckle and turn behind you, cocking a smile at him. A subtle nod paired with the part of your lips gives him all the answer he needs to grip your hips and pull out from you, only to slam back in with an unrivalled force.

Your ass jiggles with the power of his thrusts, Charlie's dick pumping in and out of you making you reach new heights of pleasure. His hand wraps around your hair, forming a ponytail and pulling you flush against him, your lightly sweaty back against his heaving chest, his hair tickling your spine. One of his hands grips your hip harshly, intermittent grunts of your name escaping his lips, and the other hand moves up your body, massaging your breast and plucking at your nipple.

“Can I choke you?” His voice comes out raspy, followed by a moan as you clench around his twitching cock, merely from his words.

“God, please.” You beg him, unsure if you’ve ever been so needy in your life.

His long fingers slowly wrap themselves around your neck, pressing his palm down and squeezing lightly. Hard enough so that your breath is slightly laboured and your senses are heightened. You can hear him counting under his breath, still thrusting in and out of you ferociously, and when he hears your breathing becoming an issue, he releases his grip. With a few seconds allowance, you gulp down as much air as you can, swirling your head around to face him. You bat your eyelashes at him, tongue darting out from between your lips, and you kiss him. His lips captured by your own, tongue dancing in your mouth, keeping his dominance over you. He spanks you once, twice, squeezes your hip, his mouth still locked on yours, kissing you tantalisingly. His kisses make you crave even more of him, his hand squeezing around your neck again as his pad of one finger travels down from your hip, pinching the skin on your pubic bone, and he presses down firmly on your clit. His thrusts grow erratic, the pressure on your clit and your oesophagus making the fire in your stomach spark even further, your high so quickly approaching…

He pulls away to whisper in your ear, “Come on me, pretty baby. Good girl.” You moan louder at his coaxing words, the wave of your second orgasm crashing over you and drowning you in pleasure. You cry out his name, his lips moving from pressing feather light kisses behind your ear to your lips, swallowing your screams of his names as much as he can. Your fluttering and shuttering around him allows Charlie to chase his high too. He throbs inside you, dick pulsating until he comes too, his movements slowing as you ride your highs out together.

You crash onto your bed face first, Charlie pulling out of you before joining you, your bare legs entangling as his fingertips brush your face.

“So, that was…”

“Perfect.” he finishes for you, pressing his lips to your nose gently.

“Yes,” you agree wistfully, savouring the moment of just being wrapped in his warmth, “a dream come true.”

He virtually giggles, unable to keep his hands off you. “Cuddles for a bit, and then round two?”

-x-

The next morning comes far too soon for your liking, sunlight blaring through your drapes and your bare legs tangled with someone else’s underneath your sheets, a strong arm draped over your body, warmth pressed against you.

You scramble as much as you can, jolting your neck to check that it was Charlie, and that last night was reality, and you let out the heaviest held breath you could from all the relief crashing down on you like waves, until reality hits. 

“Shit. Charlie, Charlie, you need to sort the dragons! Fuck!”

It’s already late, but Charlie just groans and brings you closer into him. 

“Charles,” you grumble, nudging his arm away from your body as best as you can, but still, he doesn’t budge and you’re too small to move him. “If it’s any consolation, we’ll definitely be doing this again, so you can let me go...”

Clearly that’s the remedy. His eyes shoot open and he begins to press soft kisses across the harsh marks he left last night, his hand gently caressing your soft skin, making you squirm and giggle a little. 

Charlie being as gently dominant as he is (complete softie), refuses to let you do anything without him. That includes showering, dressing and hair. He massages any bruises or rough spots where he was a little too strong last night, whispering sweet nothings in your ear, kissing you whenever he can get to your lips.

“Godric, baby, I haven’t been able to get you out my mind for three months.” He tells you, arms twined around your waist while you primp. “You’re so perfect, so beautiful, such a good girl for me.” 

Only a four year age gap, yet you still manage to moan the word ‘Daddy’ when he squeezes your hips just right and suckles on that sweet spot.

“Fuck,” his voice is breathy and strained, clearly trying to hold back, “if you call me that again then we’ll miss the task.”

You chuckle at him but hug him nonetheless. Yeah the intimacy is great, but this just started, and he’s a bloody good hugger. Just being close to him is enough. You wear his jacket and twine your fingers with his own, your other hand resting in the crook of his elbow to feel him as close as possible. When you finally do leave the dorm and climb down the disabled stair case, you get the strangest assortment of looks you’ve ever received, everything from shock to fury to admiration to jealousy. Your cheeks heat and you turn shyly into Charlie again, only for your console to be broken by a high pitched screech, one you know to belong to Fred and George when they’re feigning shock. 

“Y/N! How could you!” Fred bursts out, pointing at you with a quivering hand, jaw slackened and face aghast. 

“And Charlie, sleeping with a student!” George finishes, the exact same expression written across his face.

You merely scowl at them, but they’ve bought even more attention than you’d had before, namely two girls who would be far from happy. 

“Really Charlie?” Ginny says incredulously, making fake gagging noises but snuggling into her brother's side nonetheless, clearly happy to see him. 

Hermione stands before you, giving you a horrible stern, disapproving look with pursed lips and folded arms. You offer a snide side eye in return, not so subtly removing your hair from your neck just to watch Hermione’s reaction, and it’s worth the audible gasps from those around you. Bruising purple marks scattered across your neck and the join of your shoulder, a red handprint on the column of your throat. Hermione looks like she’ll faint from pure disapproval, after all, you were supposed to be the innocent animal girl.

“Part of me is impressed-“ Fred announces, a sly smirk painted on his lips. 

“And the other part is disgusted.” George adds, scanning you up and down as though vying for another tell tale sign.

Charlie gives them what they want, spinning you into his body with his hands holding your waist beneath your jumper, letting it ride up a little to show more bruises. The twins look nothing but dazzled at the sight of your skin covered in splendid marks. They give their brother a subtle look of solidarity, exchanging no further words before leaving. Hermione remains speechless, but Ginny looks simultaneously confused and scarred.

“Sorry Gin,” Charlie says with a genuinely apologetic style, but turns away from her, leaning down to fleetingly capture your lips. 

“I guess I’m something to talk about even when I’m gone, but I promise babe, there’s more where that came from. Dinner, tonight, the edge of the forest before I leave.”

You grin to yourself, squeezing his hand as you make your way to breakfast. All that passes through your mind is how wonderful it is that you finally have Charlie back. Your Charlie.

[turning-dreams-into-chaos]

Jamesy

Request: I really love your works on Harry Potter (basically marauders) Can I request 14, 16, 18, 23, 28 for James Potter. Can reader be Remus' twin sister, a Gryffindor? I I would be really happy to read it. Also if possible can you make a happy ending for it? I trust you can write a perfect fic! Thank you:) (are you still open to this kind of requests?)

14. “Wake me up when you have a brain.”

16. “Yeah I’m not wearing that.”

18. “How drunk was I?”

23. “You’re a dork.”

28. “I was joking! I swear!”

Requested by: @miniaturebananauniversitywinner (Can’t tag)

Paring: James Potter x Lupin!Reader

Word Count: 2.5K

~Master~

~Harry Potter~

Remus had always been the more responsible twin. You had always been the risk-it-all, life of the party girl. If someone had to guess who in your friend group you were siblings with, the only indication it was Remus would be the scars you and Remus both wear, due to your howl-at-the-moon sides. Everyone at Hogwarts knew of your scars but based on your personality everyone assumed you had gotten them from doing something rather ill-mannered and drug Remus along with you.

In fact, it was your idea to have a party in the common room tonight, supposedly celebrating Gryffindors win against Hufflepuff. The truth was the full moon was in a few days and you needed to let loose and have fun before giving your friends absolute hell while they deal with you and Remus. The house was livelier than it had been in a while as people started to get more and more tipsy and you found yourself jumping up on the table and dancing.

“Nice moves, Lupin!” Someone called out behind you as you spin around, nearly falling off the table. But once you saw who it was, a smile grew on your face and you literally jumped into his arms.

“Jamesy!” You cooed in his ear as your arms flew around his neck. James’ cheeks showed a dark red as he awkwardly patted your back, not used to the feeling of you pressed against him. You always were an affectionate drunk, and for some reason even more with him. Sirius would always tease him about it.

“Jamesy! Oh Jamesy, you’re my favorite!” Sirius would mock you when they were in their room late at night, flipping a fake head of hair as James would always fall back in laughter. They weren’t making fun of you, not at all, more into teasing James whenever possible. It was no secret James fancies you. The boy never tried to hide it, but you were rather obtuse and with Remus being the overprotective brother he was, you never really put two and two together. But that didn’t mean you don’t feel the same way, James was your favorite after all.

“Come on Y/N. I think you had enough partying tonight.” He said as he tried picking you up. Your eyes widened as you turned to run, not wanting the party to end. James reacted fast, grabbing you around the waist and keeping you from running away.

“James, no! I need this!” You begged him, trying to pull his arms off you.

“James? What happened to Jamesy?” He chuckled in your ear and he could feel you squirm in his arms as he loosened them, watching you turn around. He raised a brow as you threw your arms loosely over his shoulder, feeling your fingers tickle the back of his neck as he inhaled sharply.

“’Jamesy’ is only for nice boys.”

“Nice boys?” He smirked as you nodded and hummed a yes. “You’re a dork.”  Your jaw dropped as you looked at James, swaying slightly to the music in the air.

“You’re mean.” You mumbled quietly. The sight only made James smile. He didn’t know which Y/N he likes more, the cute carefree affectionate Y/N or the badass, tell it as it is Y/N.

“I was joking! I swear!” He laughed just seconds before a cold drink filled with ice spilled down your shirt. His smile dropped when he saw you freeze, letting out a high-pitched squeal and clinging onto James. James was about to yell at the person who spilled on you but you were practically shivering in his arms. “Come on love, lets get you changed.” You nodded and let him lead you up to your room. You were barely outside the door before James stopped walking.

“Why’d you stop?” You muttered, holding onto his arm. James sent you a smile before looking down at the handle, a red and yellow tie hanging off it. “Jamesy?” You picked your head up off his arm, looking down at the handle before bursting out in laughter. “That’s Sirius’.” You cackled out, seeing the words ‘Padfoot’ you wrote in the seam of the tie when Peter kept stealing the boy’s ties. You both heard a low woman’s moan coming from inside as you froze, looking to James to see his eyes just as wide.

“And that’s Marlene.” You nodded, trying to hide your laughs but that was easier to do when you weren’t drunk. James led you back down to the common room, bustling with laughter in every step. As soon as you were back in the party, you grabbed a drink off the table, downing it before James could stop you. James just glared at you when you were done, throwing the cup amongst the crowd. You grinned and James watched the arrogant expression on your face fall as the cup was tossed back at you hitting you in the head.

You pulled out your wand, ready to hex whoever spelled the cup to fly back at you but James pulled the wand out of your hand and threw you over his shoulder. You started to protest but the alcohol was starting to catch up to you. James brought you to the bathroom and put you down. You fell to your knees, letting your eyes close. James had squatted down next you, running a hand up and down your back to make you feel better.

“I’m good. I’m good.” You told him, letting him help you to your feet.

“Let’s get you changed into something… less wet.” He wiped his hand, now wet from your shirt, unto his pant leg before walking out into his room. He started heading towards your brother’s trunk to grab a shirt from him before he stopped himself, turning slowly to his own truck. He smirked as he grabbed a long-sleeved shirt from the top and headed back to you. You were sitting against the wall, your eyes closed as you hugged your knees, resting your head to the side. “You alive?” James joked.

You groaned and opened one eye at see his smirking ass leaning in the doorway. “Yes.” He snorted at you, grabbing your hands to pull you up. Holding the shirt out, you just stared at it. “Yeah, I’m not wearing that.”

“What are you doing to do? Be naked?”

“Maybe.” And there was the risk-it-all Y/N he loved. He cleared his throat, his heads widening at the thought before you took the shirt from him, gesturing for him to turn around. James followed, hearing you pull your own shirt off before slipping on his. “Okay.”

He turned back around, guffawing at the sight of you wearing the shirt backwards. He helped you turn it around and you let out a content sigh when it was done, feeling the warmth already from a dry shirt that felt like James. “Let’s get you on the bed.”

“Jamesy, take a girl to dinner first.” You joked and laughed at your joke as James groaned, running a hand through his hair.

“I meant your brother’s bed.” He clarified before you let out a sound of disapproval.

“No! Rem lays on me in his sleep!” You told him as you looked towards his bed, almost feeling the comfort from here. “Can I sleep in your bed?”

“I’m not sleeping next Remus. I heard he lays on people in his sleep.” He deadpanned. You chuckled, slapping him on the arm lightly and James stared fondly at you.

“No, you’d sleep in it with me.” You rested your head on his arm, both of you heading towards the bed. James gulped, stopping himself.

“How about you sleep in my bed and I’ll sleep in Sirius’. Figure he’d stay the night with Marlene.” You nodded and fell into the bed, seeing James smile down at you as you furrowed your brows.

“What are you smiling at, smiley?”

“Smiley?”

“Yeah, cause you’re smiling.” You always were good at making James blush. He pulled the blankets out from under and covered you up, your eyes starting to close. “You’re a good boyfriend, Jamesy.” You mumbled in your half-asleep state. James froze. You’ve never called him your boyfriend before. You saw him as a boyfriend. He was ecstatic.

“Go to sleep, Y/N, I’ll see you in morning.” He whispered and hope you couldn’t hear the smile taking over his face.

“Wake me up when you have a brain.” You muttered. James scoffed, crossing his arms while looking at you. “I’ll sleep forever.”

“You’re mean.” He mocked you from earlier, seeing your breathing even out meaning you were asleep. He stared for a few extra seconds, marveling at the sight of you on his bed before he pulled himself away and into Sirius’ bed.

“James. Prongs, wake up.” He felt someone shake his shoulder as he peeled his eyes open, seeing the lupin twin he hadn’t said goodnight too staring down at him.

“What?” he groaned out, rubbing his eyes.

Remus just glared at him, his jaw locking. “Why is my sister in your bed wearing your shirt?”

James’ eyes widened as he realized what Remus was asking. “No, no, no Moony, I promise we didn’t do any-“

“I know.”

James blinked as Remus donned a smirked. “What?” Remus just made his way back to his own bed and looked at James just past your sleeping body.

“Mate, I know you didn’t do anything with her. That’s why she’s in your bed and you’re in Sirius’.” James just nodded, unsure how to carry on with this conversation. “Oh, that and the fact you’re hopelessly in love in her.”

James had never scrambled out of his, well Sirius’, bed faster, making his way over to Remus. “Stop talking! She could wake up!”

“Notice how you didn’t deny it.” James stopped himself.

Well, damn it. Remus had him.

“Just be good to her, okay?” Remus looked over, seeing you stir in the bed and pull the hair from your face.

“What time is it?” You groaned, stretching your arms to the air. Remus glanced at James, seeing him still frozen as he clapped his back, getting your attention.

“It’s morning and you’re hungover.”

You sneered at him. “No shit, Rem.” You sat up in the bed, realizing it was James as you raised a brow to the boy. You remember the party, you remember James taking you from the party, you remember Sirius and Marlene, but you don’t remember why you were in James’ bed or even James’ shirt. You pulled the fabric away from your body to peek inside, seeing your bra still in place as you sighed happily.

“How drunk was I?” You asked, throwing your feet over the side of the bed. You stretched your body, feeling a few cracks as your head pounded. Remus bit his lip, holding back a laugh as he turned to see James thinking about how to handle this situation.

He rolled his eyes, kicking James out of his bed and over to you. “Don’t worry, Jamesy was there to take care of you.” You rolled your eyes at your brother mocking you, probably tired of hearing about your crush on the boy. Remus was up and out of the room the instant James’ stumbling stopped and he looked back at him.

The door slammed as James sighed, looking at a hungover you cuddling back into his blankets. He chuckled. “You know we have class, right?”

You peeked an eye out of the covers at him. “You have class. I have a hangover.”

“And whose fault was that?” He heard you mumble against the blankets as he smirked, slowly pulling the blankets away. “What was that?”

“It was mine!” You yelled out, wincing from your own volume. “But you were being mean.”

James paused, feeling his heart pound a little faster when he licked his lips, considering his next words. “I thought I was a good boyfriend.” He watched the color drain from your face as you gulped, trying to hide under the blanket. “Oh no, you don’t.” He threw the blanket off his bed, leaving you staring up at him wide eyed. “Should we maybe talk about that? About what you said.”

“Look, James I was drunk-“

“I wanna be a good boyfriend.” You stopped yourself, believing you were imagining it. James stood straighter, trying to feel confident. “I wanna be a good boyfriend. I wanna be your boyfriend.”

A grin slowly spread on your face, as James stumbled over his words. “You wanna be my boyfriend? As in, you actually feel that way about me?”

“God, yes.” He breathed out as he fell onto the bed. His relief was short lived though as he sat up. “Only if you felt the same. I mean, I don’t know if you were just drunk and rambling.”

“I wasn’t just drunk.” You cut him off, grabbing his hand to stop him. “I mean, I was drunk, but I meant it. I think you’d be a great boyfriend.”

“Well, can I be your boyfriend?”

“I’d be really disappointed at this point if you weren’t.”

“Great.”

“Great.” Neither of you said anything more as you stared at each other, not sure what to do next. You were the first person to make a move, pulling yourself over to James and pressing your lips to his. James’ wrapped his arms around you the moment you moved, pulling you against him as you straddled his legs. The feeling of your body against his this time, was something he knew he’d get used to, your lips being the part he liked more. James was already lost in the sensation as his door opened and you pulled your lips away, looking up to see Remus, Sirius, and Peter all looking at you both, smiles on their faces.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did we interrupt something?” Sirius asked as he walked into the room, falling into his well slept in bed. He didn’t seem to mind, too busy wearing a cocky grin as James turned to glare at him.

“Yes!” He said the same time you did. The three boys just laughed at you and James. You flipped them off behind James’ back before putting your lips back on James. The laughter stopped as you pushed James back onto the mattress, the kiss deepening.

“Run!” Sirius shouted and jumped off his bed, not wanting to see you and James go at it. He pushed Peter and Remus out the room, the latter’s face watching disgusted as his friend’s hand roamed his sister’s body.

“That’s my sister mate!” He shouted at James as you looked up, feeling James’ mouth move to your neck.

“Then don’t watch.” You smirked as Remus paused, dashing out of the room as fast as Sirius had. You threw your head back in laughter as James stopped kissing your neck, straining his own to check the door had closed.

“Thank goodness. I thought they’d never leave.” He rolled you off him as you laughed even more, moving to lay on the bed normally as James moved to join you.

You smiled as he cuddled up next to you, letting you rest your head on his shoulder as he wrapped his arms loosely around your waist. The smile on his face matched your as you kissed it one more time. “Me too, Jamesy. Me too.”

A/N: I’m back for 20 minutes and you all get a Bellamy Blake series and a James Potter piece. Lmao, thoughts please?

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[timextoxhajima]

GEN Z SERIES, CHANG MIN: Invisible Blindfolds

“I want her dead.”

Member: Changmin

Genre: Angst / Fluff

Word Count: 5.2k words

Taglist:  @lovely-kpop-writer​​ @yn-am-pm @fleurseoul​ @sunwoowuvbot​ @mystaydeobi​ @fullsunsays​ @glcwing0​

The corners of your eyes well up with tears, and you swore you’d get a tummy ache the next morning from laughing all too hard. 

“Spin the damn thing again! I’m not going into the closet with him!” Chanhee nearly screams his head off, getting onto his feet just as the soju bottle stops, pointing dead straight at him. 

Ji Changmin gets up from beside you, and steps across the carpet, hands outstretched towards his classmate.

“No, fuck off!” 

The laughter in your abdomen forces you to double over, nearly spilling the cup of Coke mixed with Whiskey in your hand. 

Kevin and Eric get to their feet in a bid to force Chanhee along with the game, and you lean over on your best friend, watching your boyfriend turn back and grin at you as he followed his screaming friend into the closet. 

“The things I’d do to have what you have with him,” Your friend almost shouts, trying to beat the rest of the crowd in the room.

Exams had just ended and you had been cordially invited to an end-of-year party at Kevin’s place as Changmin’s girlfriend. 

“Mm,” A hum commands you to take a sip from your cup, just as Eric and Kevin lean on the closet door from the outside, and Chanhee’s screaming only tickles your funny bone even more. 

The alcohol burns your chest, but it was for a good cause; you were having fun. 

“You say that as if you don’t have just about the greatest thing with Kevin.”

The sparkle in your friend’s eyes would’ve gone unnoticed had you blinked, and you can’t help but to snuggle in further into her neck, resting your head on her shoulder while you revel in the atmosphere of the party. 

Chanhee literally crawls out of the closet once the phone’s timer goes off. Changmin walks out with his mouth covered and wide eyes while Chanhee hurls strings of vulgarities at him, back to the floor like he had just been abused.

“Oh my God, what did you do?” The view stuns you, and Changmin naturally struts over to you, his free hand dangling by the side of his thigh calling out for you to hold it.

“I didn’t do anything!”

“Liar--” Chanhee’s eyes are so wide open, his blue contacts might’ve popped out. “He tried to kiss me!”

And the crowd bursts into laughter, including you. 

“Why are you laughing?” Chanhee throws a tissue ball at you, getting to his feet and returning to his spot on the carpeted living room floor. “Control your man.”

“He’s well controlled,” You come down from your high, and pull on Changmin’s hand so he’d sit down. “It’s not my fault he likes you more than he likes me.”

Some in the circle snort, and Changmin pulls you into a headlock, ruffling your hair like you didn’t put effort into styling it before coming. 

And so, the moon hangs itself for all eternity in the dark sky when you leave Kevin’s home, your friend by his side and the group of boys behind you howling and screaming as if they didn’t have to worry about being a public nuisance. 

“Goodnight, Kevin!” You call out over your shoulder, and the others follow suit. 

The door shuts with two smiles behind, but you turn to watch Chanhee and Changmin struggle a little to support the little ball of sunshine who had too much to drink.

“I can go home on my own, you guys need to take care of him.”

Changmin looks up upon your suggestion, watching as you shove your hands into the pockets of your hoodie. 

“What? No.”

Chanhee grunts as Eric nearly slides off, mumbling something about the cat on the other side of the road. 

“I’m not going to be able to bring him back home alone.”

Changmin’s eyes flit between you and his friends, his expression dulling when he realises he doesn’t really have much of a choice.

“Come with us? I don’t want you walking home alone.”

A yawn crawls up your respiratory system, and the remnants of the alcohol gets seeped into your blood as you shake your head.

“I’m fine,” You shrug lightly. “I can take care of myself, but Eric obviously can’t.”

“Your girlfriend’s right,” Chanhee grunts when Eric suddenly does a little skip on a floor, despite his right arm being hooked around Chanhee’s neck. “Eric’s going to spend the night on some pavement if we don’t get him home.”

Changmin looks a tad bit upset with your refusal to walk with them, but he knows he’ll be wasting his breath trying to convince you to go along.

“Okay,” He leans over and pecks you on your forehead. “Be careful, and text me once you get home, okay? Don’t wait up, we’ll probably be awhile.”

The tone in his voice is heavy, and for a moment you worry that he might be more than upset that you were stubborn and rock-headed. 

But Eric starts trying to braid Chanhee’s hair, leaving Changmin no choice but to help untangle his hair from Eric’s fingers. 

You watch for awhile until they disappear around the block, Changmin turning and giving you one last glance before they are out of sight.

The walk home is quiet, apart from the cricket chirping and the occasional car that drives down the road.

You can’t help but to wonder if Changmin really was pissed off with your stubbornness. The stars in the dark sky glimmer down at you, and if you tried hard enough, you could almost see Andromeda, or Mars -- well, it was either or, since both had a shade of red to them if you were to see them in the sky.

The ink sky collects you into its silence and peace, leaving you to wander through the fields of thought in your head before the sun was to rise again. 

A honk outside your house jolts you awake, and your eyes immediately squint away from the bright sun flooding the four walls of your room. 

It is a surprise to realise your phone is a lack of messages -- or replies -- from Changmin when you roll over and fetch the device from your night stand. 

The house was empty, so you could only guess your parents had brought your brother out to buy some of that sports equipment he’s always been wanting to get. 

By nature, you call Changmin, but it meets the dial tone. More messages swarm your chat, but they go undelivered.

WiFi seemed to work but why aren’t they getting through?

A slight headache starts to knock on the inner shell of your skull, and you realise a small cut on your thigh.

Must’ve been Kevin’s house. Wooden floor boards and their splinters.

You forgot to charge your phone before you passed out last night, so it’s a frustrating dead-end when your phone’s battery drains out within the next few minutes.

It wasn’t the first time you’ve been at a social event with Changmin, so being his girlfriend has taught you that he had a habit of sleeping in the next morning after a drinking session. It doesn’t really bother you that you might only come into contact with him when you’re back in school.

Yet the universe thinks it’s fun to pull a prank on you -- for not only is Changmin’s shadow almost out of sight; nobody speaks to you. 

The confusion was overwhelming, nibbling away at your consciousness and your social awareness. Not only did Changmin and his friends seemingly disappear off the face of Earth, so did yours. 

Their seats remain empty for a day, and some don’t even return after the second, including Changmin.

You take the opportunity to run the question through your friend, two of the three who was back in school and the last one gone from your radar as well. 

The cafeteria is bustling as usual, though not as noisy because none of the noisier boys in Changmin’s group of friends were around.

“Do you know what happened to Changmin? And where were you the last two days?” You rest your arms on the table before you, for the lack of appetite from the mistreatment of your boyfriend begins to haunt you like a living nightmare.

“Are you alright? If you need to speak to any of us, we’re always here for you.”

“What?” Your brows furrow and your head cocks to the side. An alarm goes off in your head because that is a strange reply. “What are you--”

“Talk to us, we’re your support. We don’t want you dead in a ditch somewhere, okay?”

“Uh-- sure... I just--”

“Good,” A pause as she returns to her potato salad. “Let me clear this before we head back to class, we have shit to catch up on.”

Baffling.

The next day greets you like the devil’s smile the first time you see it in Hell, for Changmin walks right past you without even looking at you but instead exchanging knowing, suspicious glances at your friend -- the one who assured you her comfort and support just the day before. 

Changmin looked terrible; his smile was gone and the eyebags under his eyes were unmistakably caused by a lack of sleep. The red rings around his eyes are glaring, like he had been a fight and this was the aftermath.

Maybe you should start losing sleep over this too, but everytime your back hits the mattress at home, you knock out and wake up the next morning with a shitty ache in your neck. 

Changmin doesn’t enter your field of vision for the rest of the day, for you have no classes with him besides the chemistry classes on fridays. 

The stinging, wearing pain in your neck draws you to the bed once you reach home, and it feels all too lethargic, like a fever dream. 

The days pass so quickly, so fleetingly, and you weren’t sure if you were just too cooped up in your room studying or sleeping that you haven’t really gotten the time to talk to your family members either. 

They’ll understand. 

But I definitely don’t understand Changmin.

There is something wrong, but he feels so far away, uncontactable.

All those messages and calls to him but nothing. He doesn’t pick up, he doesn’t respond, he doesn’t even look at me in school.

The tears well in your eyes when you struggle to hold yourself together.

How did such a pretty fairytale become a living nightmare?

A phone in the house rings, and the anxiety in her voice thrums through the walls of the house. You wonder for a moment how it was able to wake you -- when your mother finds extreme difficulty in even waking you up on a normal day -- but you peel yourself off the bed anyway and walk out the room, feet snuggled into the thick carpet of the floor. 

It doesn’t take too long for you to realise your mother’s been on the phone for an extended period of time now, and it calls you down the steps of your home into the living room.

The phone is on an extremely high volume; your father has had hearing problems for the longest time so the rest of you simply endure the sometimes-painful levels of pitch whenever someone calls. 

“I’m sorry, I can’t help you--” 

“No, wait, plea--”

And the phone is almost slammed back into the set with a plastic clack. Your mother doesn’t see you because you’ve stopped yourself at the top of the stairs, bending over to watch the situation unravel under the roof of the first floor.

Ji Changmin is a phenomenon on his own, impeccable. There was absolutely nothing about him you hated, until he treated you like you were invisible.

Then your mother buries her face in her hands, looks up at the top of the stairs and spots you, but she doesn’t look you in the eye; she knows you’re standing there. 

Someone must’ve told her Changmin and I are no longer together, but for what reason, even I don’t know. 

The weekend roles around, and the strangest thing happens in the midst of you sobbing your heart out over losing him to a force even you cannot see. 

Why would he show up at your place with a shovel and a rose?

You watch from the window in your room as your older brother and father try to pry Changmin away from the hole he’s dug on your front yard from the window. 

Quite a sight to behold, honestly. But at what cost? Who was hurting more in the relationship? Why is he here when he hasn’t responded to my calls?

The man tried to plant the rose (still in a pot with a soil-base and all), but fragility gets the better of the fickle thing and its petals dribble off throughout all the chaos. 

Changmin literally gets yanked away into the family car, and if you blinked, you would’ve missed the way Changmin looked up at the window with such yearning, it might’ve been excruciating to digest.

There was almost no way you could decide when it all happened. 

Why did Changmin suddenly stop talking to you? 

Why did he stop seeing you? 

Why did he stop loving you?

The curtains draw back before your nose, your mother closing them for you, though she doesn’t say a word. Her back is turned and she shuts the door of your room behind her, the soft thud a signal to you that maybe it was time to close your eyes and let abyss of dreams claim you again.

Maybe this time -- finally -- you’ll forget you ever loved him. 

Then again, it’s not easy to pretend like you hadn’t once had your hands all over him. It’s not easy to pretend like you didn’t just sit and watch the love of your life perform favourite song before an audience, despite the lyrics being heartbreaking... but watching him dance was like watching the waves crash against the shore, the trees hiding the sunshine from the skies.

It’s not easy to pretend that Changmin didn’t actually make the song your reality. 

The cotton of your bedsheet sucks you into its comfort, albeit the memories still running in your head like a broken record.

It was just weeks ago that the dance crew you were in had finished the showcase, the same one that Changmin had performed Maniac in the gym, that Changmin sent you home.

The crickets on out on your lawn were chirping and halted the moment the both of you were walking along the path up to your porch. The night temperature was colder than comfortable, so Changmin has his windbreaker wrapped around your shoulders, and his left hand interlocked with yours, stuffed into the right pocket.

You remember clearly: he smelled like a disgusting mix of deodorant and his body wash, and you could smell his cologne on his windbreaker. 

Strangely comforting, however gross that sounded. 

And so, it is sweet like hot chocolate in winter and his jacket around your shoulders when he plants a gentle kiss on your forehead. 

Your eyes travel up to his. Those large, round, doe eyes that you fell for after almost a year of being friends. He isn’t that short, so you can’t help the smile when you remember all the teasing he suffers when he’s with his friends.

“Goodnight.”

God, those dimples. 

“Goodnight.” 

The memory of that night swallows you whole like you were a druggies’ pills, and the night collects you the way the grim reaper would -- or should -- collect your already dissipating soul. 

I wonder why he’s crawling back now?

The hallways of school haunt you like Hell the next day; is this my Hell?

It might be, especially if Changmin walks by you, on his phone, and does not see you. He is distant, walking at the back of the group with his friends, and you at the back of yours. 

Everybody looks gloomy; did something happen that you didn’t know about?

Maybe that was why Changmin stopped treating you like you existed.

You claim your seat as per normal in class at the back with your friend, and the other two infront of you. Changmin is seated diagonally to the right before you, and you can tell he starts to drift off to sleep. 

Wait-- I only have one class with him on Fridays--

You realise he’s wearing the same pair of pants he wore to your place the night before, when he tried to plant that rose in your front yard. 

There was a patch of rubbed-in soil into the side of his thigh.

It truly is detrimental to your spirit, when you cannot piece together the information. 

Then the lyrics of the performance he pulled off perfectly comes back to stick themselves in the crevices of your brain like a parasite. 

You were with your friends, partying

When the alcohol kicked in

Said you wanted me dead

The pinch forces you to look away, the sound of his voice saying those words driving merciless needles into your skin, making your hair stand. 

“I want her dead.”

His voice rings in your head, though you have no physical memory of him saying that. When did he say this? Over the phone? To someone else? 

Why do you remember his voice saying these words but you don’t even remember seeing it for yourself?

The teacher’s voice is literally drowned out by all the other little clicks and clacks you can hear in the classroom. 

The clock ticking, people clicking their pens, tapping their feet on the floor. The scribbling. 

So, you shut your eyes, and the school bell violently wakes you up from your never-ending nightmare. 

Everybody is on their feet, heading towards the front of the classroom to get some worksheet from the teacher and one of your friends take one copy for you. 

She’s busy looking at the worksheet for herself, so she candidly slides yours under your desk, and seems to miss your little “thank you”.

Your friends forget about you -- which is a normal occurrence, because they know you like to stay behind after Chemistry to leave with Changmin. 

But all three of your friends spare Changmin a look of pity, almost pain and misfortune before they leave the classroom. 

The room is bare besides you sitting in the back and Changmin sitting in his seat, never really moving a single muscle until he slides everything into his bag and stands up. 

It is so quiet, you can hear him breathing. 

His laboured breath tells you there is something wrong, and if he wasn’t going to talk to you about it, then maybe you should find out for yourself. 

It takes a surprisingly minimum amount of effort to follow Changmin out of school and to the bus stop and the train station, because he doesn’t stop once -- he is rushing somewhere, steps larger than he normally would walk with and his hood over his hair, almost hiding his eyes. 

I wish I never loved you, Ji Changmin. You love me with all your heart with mine sitting in the heart of your palms only for you to crush it the very next day, and forget that I ever exist. 

Changmin alights at a station he doesn’t usually alight at, the situation starting to make it even more mind-boggling for you.

Just who or what was it that tore you away from me? We had everything, and the way your eyes twinkled when you looked at me made me feel like I was the only thing you ever needed. 

Then, Changmin gets on a bus, shoving his hands into his pockets. The sun was setting so the sky was turning into a gentle blue from orange.

So, was I? Was I the only thing you ever needed or did you realise that you were wrong, and that you could do without me? That you could be better off with someone else?

The bus stops, and Changmin alights. 

But what greets you is the daunting architecture of a building almost as high as apartment buildings.

It was a hospital.

Something dawns on you, but anger and confusion is not a good mix of emotions when your boyfriend suddenly stops acknowledging your existence without an explanation. 

What if it was your mother? Your father? No, you would’ve told me, wouldn’t you, Changmin? Or was it another girl whom your eyes laid on, and your heart decided her hands were softer, warmer for it to snuggle into, sing melodies into her skin and press loving songs onto her lips?

I wish you were dead, Changmin.

I wish--

“I’m here, y/n.”

It crushes your spirit when you hear the name ring in the halls of the hospital, or maybe it was just in your head. Changmin had entered a ward, but you haven’t seen what was in it.

The sudden nausea in your gut starts to grumble through your system, and your heart rushes like manic in the cages of your chest. 

“How are you today? You look better.”

If I looked hard enough, maybe I could see Andromeda or Mars--

Until bright, white lights blind you.

And your neck feels like there is a harsh squeeze around your spine on the inside, and you groan in pain to yourself, the movement shifting you forwards, just enough to provide you a view of the patient in the ward Changmin was sitting by. 

It feels almost aggressive, or violent, the way the truth of reality slaps you across the face, possibly breaking your neck and a few bones in the process.

But that was not possible, because you were looking at yourself lying in the hospital bed, motionless. 

Cast around your neck and stitches across your face, left hand in cast and one of your legs held up by a support, the physical pain starts to spread through your body just as the information clicks together. 

“I want her dead.” Changmin’s face is tear stained and he is drunk from the sorrows he ironically tried to drink away. Distant, hazy memory reminds you that he is distraught over your accident, for the doctor cannot promise a hundred percent survival rate, not after it’s nearly severed your spine, fractured about a dozen bones in your body and broken your leg.

“You know you don’t mean that.” The calming voice of your voice, though hoarse and also slightly strained, tries in vain to soothe the poison in his heart. 

“If she is in so much pain then I rather her--”

“Shut-- the fuck up!” Then she hurls her glass across the living room, and Kevin rushes to hold her back. She breaks down in his arms, and Kevin looks to Changmin with agony in his eyes. 

He knows Changmin is feeling worse, if not the worst in the room. 

“Are you alright? If you need to speak to any of us, we’re always here for you.”  The memory plays out in your head, leaving a horrid, bitter taste on your tongue. 

She was talking to the other friend at the table, and you weren’t there. 

Your room had been empty the day you were in the accident -- almost three weeks ago. 

The rose sitting in the pitiful pile of soil in your backyard gets surgically removed and then re-installed into the grass by your older brother, because he knows why Changmin left it there. 

Both of them are afraid they are going to lose you, but it’s not in their control to decide what the Grim Reaper decides to do. 

The soft beeping of the heart monitor is a stab to the chest when you realise it was your own heartbeat you were listening to. You slowly walk around the bed and sit in the chair on the other side, directly opposite Changmin with your lifeless body between the two of you. 

You are barely recognisable, but Changmin still looks at you with that twinkle in his eyes, though now shrouded with the tears coating them. 

Guilt finds you in places you never knew was possible, when you realise you had just played Changmin off as an unfaithful, unreasonable partner. 

All he had been was just the opposite. 

The tears fall from Changmin’s eyes, and God, how much do you want to reach over and wipe his tears off his face and tell him you’re still alive, and you’re still fighting. 

He gulps, not doing much to salvage his need to be strong for himself, or for you, and presses one hand into the back of his neck, over the material of his hood. Your right hand, with the index finger clipped with the pulse oximeter, held in his free hand, as he lowers his head in despair.

You don’t know how you’re feeling it, but maybe because the entity you are right now is your soul itself. So the pain is intrinsically sharp in your heart when you watch him crumble, and you cannot do anything about it. 

He sniffles and brushes away the tears streaming down his face, dampening the ends of his sleeves when he looks up at your scarred, wounded face. 

“I’m gonna hope you can hear me, because I don’t think I can say this again...” His finger is trembling when he reaches up and brushes away the hair by your eyes. “If you need to go, if you’re really in pain--”

The hiccups stop him, and you find yourself cracking into sobs, shaking your head when you know what he’s about to say.

“--if you’re really in pain, then go. I don’t want you to stay if all you’re feeling is pain--” 

His teeth are gritted, and you can see the strain in his neck when he hides his eyes with his palm, free hand still holding onto your limp fingers.

No, I don’t want to go if it means you’re hurting.

“I just... I know your family will hate me for saying this but I just need to know that you’re not in pain--”

No, this pain is nothing compared to if I don’t have you. 

“But if you’re somewhere in there, and if you’re fighting, I hope you know I’ll be here to wait for you to come back to me, no matter how long it takes.”

No, no, no, no, this was not how I planned my life to end--

“I love you so much... and I’m sorry I didn’t say it more. I’m sorry that you don’t feel it sometimes, I’m sorry if I’ve hurt you in any way, I just--”

He takes a deep breath and strokes your cheek. 

“I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

The tears are ruthless yet intangible. They fall as tears from your face but disappear into nothingness just before they reach the floor. You try to wipe them from your face with your sleeve but they leave no marks. 

“No... no!” You know the screams can’t be heard by anybody but yourself, and you try to pick up the chair to hurl it across the room but you can’t shift it an inch. You try to kick the bed, but the mattress sheet doesn’t even crease.

“No! Changmin, I’m still here! I’m not in pain and I don’t want to go-- Please...”

Your knees meet the floor of the ward, your hands gripping onto the sides of the hospital bed as you listen to Changmin offer your body sobs and hiccups. 

The rough material of the bed makes you feel the texture, but it doesn’t leave any marks. 

You hear some shuffling and you look up with tired eyes, the pain in your neck calling you back into that lethargic ambience that you now reocgnise. The nightly “sleep” you’ve been getting is just your soul being pulled back into the reality you’ve been so used to, leaving your body here to rot and remain in its useless trance. 

The pain starts to ring a pitch in your ear, and you wince as you stand, watching Changmin stand and rub his eyes.

“No, no, stop!” The pitch gets higher, and the pain spreads a strange need to pass out throughout your body. 

How long are you going to be stuck in his vicious, torturous cycle?

You claw and scratch at the spot of pain causing the ringing in your ears on the back of your neck as Changmin leans forward and presses a gentle kiss into your forehead, lingering there longer than you expected him to. 

The ringing reaches a pitch in your skull that has you covering your ears and cowering to the floor, and just before you black out, you read Changmin’s lips as he whispers to you. 

Please don’t leave me.

The ring cracks something in your neck and you pass out completely, feeling your weight thump to the floor.

“What would you do if I got into an accident?” 

“What?” You frown and look over to Changmin, who’s got his arm under his neck and his eyes looking down at you. “Why would you ever ask that?”

He smiles, the neon stars pasted on your room ceiling still darker than the ones in his eyes. 

“I don’t know, just wanted to know.”

“Hm,” You pull the blanket up to your neck and turn to your side to better face him, rolling the metal ends of his hoodie’s string between your thumb and index finger. “I don’t know. What are the given circumstances?”

“You need given circumstances?”

You laugh, and his eyes are widened with amusement.

“Well, yeah. Like, if the doctors were to tell me you’re dead then there really isn’t much I can do, can I?”

A gasp from him tickles your funny bone again, and you push his chest, shoving him off balance. Changmin repositions himself now, pulling the blanket over himself and tucking his arm under your neck, so that you were resting against his chest and hoodie and his scent intoxicating you in every sweet way possible.

“Okay, what if I become brain dead or something?”

“So, like... alive but you’re never gonna wake up?”

“Yeah.”

Your eyes travel to the ceiling, the stars pasted mapped out according to your starsigns. 

“Do I have the choice of pulling the plug?”

“Mhm, you either pull the plug and get me off life support or you don’t and keep my body around but I’d never wake up.”

“I’d pull your life support.”

“Oh? Why?”

“I don’t want you to be stuck in a body you can’t do anything with. You love to dance and play sports-- I can’t imagine you being stuck in a body that doesn’t allow you to do that.”

Silence.

“You okay? Or did I say something wrong?” 

“Nah,” He shakes his head when you look up to him. “It’s just-- I’m glad you said that. You know me well enough to know that’s what I’d want you to do.”

“And here I was worried you’d want to spend the rest of your life stuck in a body that’s dead.”

“Nah, I’d rather spend the rest of my life with you, and if there’s no you, then there’s no point living.”

So, your eyes shoot wide open like waking up from a dream, but the ceiling is white and your body is being hugged with a thick, uncomfortable material you can’t recognise.

But Changmin’s voice comforts you, and when the tears from his eyes sting the wounds on your face, you don’t mind the extra pain when yours seep into the cuts and wounds too. 

[swan--writes]

Beetlejuice’s Big Halloween Party

I thought about writing a Dewey Halloween, but let’s be real, there ain’t room for the both of these boys in this here holiday.

And listen, it is 2:30 AM and I just finished writing this. I wrote it all in one go. I’m not editing it. Please reblog though! Happy Halloween and Blessed Samhain!

Warnings: elements of horror, blood mention, eyeball mention

Words: 3,070

You screamed.

“Beetlejuice!”

Your demon laughed at you from the rafters of your barn. Ever since you had moved out to your farmhouse, Beetlejuice had been hanging around. Sometimes literally. Normally you found you didn’t mind the demon’s antics – he kept things lively when there wasn’t much going on out where you lived. Sometimes he donned an old sheet and floated around the house. Sometimes he went out into your backyard and howled at the tree line. And sometimes he dropped live bats from the rafters of the barn, directly onto your unsuspecting head.

Frantically, you waved away the little menace. All you could see were glimpses of a wrinkled snout and long teeth. It seemed to be flapping its wings as fast as you were flapping your hands, and by the time it managed to fly off, Beetlejuice was hanging upside-down in midair and cackling.

“Wow, what a jumpy breather,” he said, wiping a thick black tear from his eye. You thought you heard it sizzle as it fell to the worn wooden floor.

“Knock it off, Beej.”

“Yeah, sure I will.”

“Seriously!” You shook your head, fighting off a shiver. “There’s gonna be screaming hordes of children here in, like, an hour. I cannot still be cleaning up your messes when they get here. So, lose the bats and the bugs and the…whatever else you’ve got.” You narrowed your eyes at his tattered suit jacket.

“Relax, babes, I got it all under control.”

Without thinking, you took a step back as he righted himself in the air. “I don’t like the way you said that.”

“Hey, take the help or don’t. I’ll be here all night.” With that, he zoomed up to the rafters, dropping beetle carcasses in his wake. You shrieked and leaped back. “Beetlejuice!” you complained, only to hear his laughter.

It had been less than a year since you moved into your creepy old farmhouse. You still weren’t entirely sure if the creepy old dead guy had come with the property, or if he had followed you there. But when you found his name traced over and over again in the dust of every reflective surface in the house on the first night, you had almost left.

In the end, it was one of the movers who had summoned him. You had had two burly men helping you move your things inside. One of them had remarked on the odd name, Betelgeuse. The other had just happened to be an amateur astronomer. Before any of you knew what was happening, lightening was striking, thunder was rolling, wind was blowing, and the two big, strong movers were scrambling back to their truck. Thoughtfully, they did hurl the last of your furniture from the vehicle as they peeled out of your shaded, and winding driveway. Betelgeuse, Betelgeuse…

“Okay, Beetlejuice, fine! Yes! I do need help.” You grumbled the last to yourself, trying and failing once more to move a heavy wooden table. It had been half an hour since the bat incident, and almost all of it had been spent on this table.

“Well, I don’t know…”

“Beetlejuice.”

“I’m getting kinda tired, y’know…”

“Beetlejuice!”

“A’right, a’right, fine! Taskmaster, jeez.” The demon floated down from the rafters, snapped his fingers, and the table you had been struggling with walked itself over to where you had been trying to move it – against the wall, centered under a window.

The barn was a decent size. Average by northeastern standards, but tall as hell. Or, the Netherworld, you supposed. The structure of the thing was entirely wood, worn down and lightened with time. The posts were a richer color than the floor, which was covered in scratches and the occasional hay straw. There were windows all around, installed sometime within the last half-century, and the sun shone in brilliantly when it was up.

Now it was dark, even at 5:00 PM. As you watched, the decorations you had strewn haphazardly across the space leapt to attention. Miniature pumpkin lights snaked their way around the rafters and posts, along with actual snakes. A layer of fog coated the floor so thickly you could no longer see your own feet. What looked to be a hundred flaming tealights sprung up from every table – some with black flames, others green. The overhead iron-wrapped pendant lights dimmed and aged noticeably, some flakes of rust falling to the floor and becoming lost in the low gloom.

The jack-o’-lanterns you and Beetlejuice had carved the day before lit up abruptly. Paper bats and bloody eyeballs on strings dropped down to hang from the rafters. A soft, eerie music began floating through the room, and when you looked up you saw a greenish gray skeleton manning the DJ setup on a slightly raised section of the floor. It gave you and Beetlejuice a thumbs-up, its other decayed hand on a headphone positioned just a few degrees south of where its ear might have been.

“Thank you, I think--whoa!” Before you could finish thanking your demon, you heard a loud BANG. All the window shutters slammed shut.

“No problem, babes, but what are you gonna do for me?” Beetlejuice waggled his eyebrows at you.

You rolled your eyes. “Politely ask you to open the shutters back up, please? It’s a full moon, we should be able to see it.”

Beetlejuice bent backwards unnaturally far and groaned. “Fine.” A flick of his wrist and the shutters swung open meekly. A few thick, black tentacles with a faint green sheen slithered in at the corners of each window, not breaking the glass but rather bending it open around themselves. The demon dusted off his hands and fixed his tie. “Happy?”

“Very.”

“How’d you get roped into doing this, anyway? I thought you hated kids.”

“I don’t hate them, I just don’t like them. One of the community theater guys asked me to.” You started for the barn door. Beetlejuice followed you, the tips of his shoes dragging the fog.

“Why?” He wrinkled his nose.

“Because the new, mysterious stage manager has a big, scary house in the middle of nowhere that no-one’s ever seen, that’s why.”

“Huh. Is he gonna be here too?” You didn’t have to look at Beetlejuice to know he was grinning.

Before you could warn him not to do anything dangerous, you opened the barn door to find your first chaperone. You weren’t sure if it was a state rule that a gathering of kids under a certain age needed adult chaperones, but knowing Beetlejuice, you were happy to have the help. This one was a theater mom. You barely knew her, but she said she would bring cupcakes, so you had shrugged and given her your address.

“Stephanie, hi,” you said, only mildly startled to see her so early.

“H--oh. Uh, hi,” she replied, now openly staring at Beetlejuice.

“Hi.” Still grinning.

“Um, who is this?” she asked, barely containing her horror.

“I’m–”

“Oh, this is, uh–”

“I’m her, uh–”

“Lawrence!” you said rigidly. “Lawrence…Beetleman.” You pulled at the demon’s arm and he dropped to his feet, stumbling to your side. You knew you should have rehearsed this.

Beetlejuice held out his left hand stiffly. “Nice to meet ya.” You elbowed him as surreptitiously as you could, and he dropped the hand, holding out his right instead.

Stephanie cautiously met his hand, then dropped it immediately. “Oh, I uh…you too, Mr. Beetleman?” Beetlejuice flinched and gagged noticeably.

There was a long silence.

“So…” you tried.

“Right! Yes, I, um…well, I came to help you decorate, but it seems like you have it all taken care of?” Stephanie glanced around you, coming away looking somehow even more horrified.

“Oh yeah, we got it covered, Stevie.” You tried to elbow Beetlejuice again, but he dodged. Moving forward, he took Stephanie’s arm at the elbow and led her into the barn. “Here, lemme show you where to put those cupcakes.” He nodded to the box she was carrying.

“Oh, okay. It’s Stephanie, by the way,” she said nervously.

“Sure.”

“Beetleman,” you cautioned haltingly, frowning at him.

“Don’t worry about it, babes. Don’t you gotta go put on your costume?”

You opened your mouth to argue, but Stephanie spoke first. “It’s fine, I’ll just, um…”

“Yeah, she’ll just um. Go on,” Beetlejuice cajoled. Tightlipped and wide-eyed, you turned and stalked out of the barn, leaving the door open behind you just in case.

Surprising yourself, you managed to get into your costume in under thirty seconds. The makeup, on the other hand, was more of a challenge. There was something about the creaky sounds of wood settling and the draft through the second floor of your house that was making it more difficult than usual to keep your hands steady. But then, you had never been much of an artist.

So, you headed back to the barn in your broken shoes and your torn clothes, perfecting your shamble as you went. The door was still open. Stephanie had her back to you and seemed to be sizing up the tentacles on the far window, but Beetlejuice caught your movement as you tentatively stuck your head into the barn. You motioned for him to come towards you. He followed your lead.

Once you were both just outside the barn door, you turned fully to face him. “Hey,” you whispered.

“What’s up, babes?”

“I’m having a little trouble with my prosthetics. Could you do anything to make me look a little more…” You searched for the right word. “…horrifying?” Seeing Beetlejuice’s eyes light up, you held out a hand. “Without killing and/or maiming me.” You paused. “Or making the children cry.”

The demon gave you a look. “What, on Halloween? Huge cliché, what do you take me for?” You raised your eyebrows, but said nothing. He snapped his fingers and within an instant, you could feel your face and sections of your clothing stiffen with what you hoped was fake blood. “There: instant zombification.”

“Great, lemme just go check–”

“Sweetheart, trust me, you could strike terror into the hearts of any ghoul.”

“Do ghouls have hearts?”

“Whatever you do, never ask a ghoul that.”

You gave him a small smile. “Thanks, Mr. Beetleman.” Almost compulsively, Beetlejuice gagged again. You laughed and led him back into the barn. Stephanie turned to greet you, then turned away again. Your demon gave you a sidelong, self-satisfied look. You shook your head at him, but couldn’t force the smile off of your face.

The kids started showing up minutes later. Stephanie’s wife brought their two sons, then the community theater director came with his daughter, and on and on. Before 6:00, the barn was full. Nearly half of the children had entered the costume contest, which you had begrudgingly appointed Beetlejuice head judge of.

It wasn’t so much that you had invited Beetlejuice as it was that you knew you wouldn’t be able to keep him from staying. Short of banishing him, he would not be left out of your Halloween activities, and the last thing you wanted to do was banish the demon. He could be awfully cranky when he felt ignored, worse when he felt betrayed. Best to keep a close eye on him and leave it there. Shockingly, though, he seemed to be on his best behavior.

That wasn’t saying much, but you appreciated the effort.

He kept the live animals to a minimum, only ate one of the eyeballs hanging from the ceiling, and judged the costume contest as fairly as he could. Fortunately, there was a clear winner: a young zombie whose costume rivalled your own. The judge committee gave him a small skeleton trophy and a candy medal, took some photos with him, and you privately wondered if he had his own ghost-zombie at home to help him with his makeup. Then you shrugged it off and watched – half-mortified, half-impressed – as Beetlejuice summoned a few dead cheerleaders to sing a surprisingly smooth rendition of Time Warp. You were fairly certain a few of his bones came loose during the dance, but you let it slide. The kids were duly impressed, the parents were a suitable distance that they hardly noticed.

It wasn’t until 11:00 PM that all of the adults in the room realized that Beetlejuice had removed the clock that had previously hung on the wall opposite the barn’s door. It took the better part of a half hour to corral the kids to their parents’ respective vehicles, and most of them insisted on hugging you. Warily as ever, you eyed the ones who tried to hug ‘Mr. Beetleman,’ but he somehow managed to turn all of their affections into a high five. Despite yourself, you found yourself smiling.

Once everyone was gone, you turned from the door to assess the barn. It was a disaster. The jack-o’-lanterns had remained lit, as had the candles, but those were the only decorations at thirteen-and-under year old level that had remained undisturbed. The bottles you had placed on the tables, with their faded potion ingredient labels, were toppled over. There were drink puddles and food stains on the floor and half the fog had dissipated. Some of the eyes and bats had come down, others were tangled with the lights on the posts. Somehow, even the pendant lights were flickering slightly.

Beetlejuice did not need sleep. Maybe he could get tired, maybe he couldn’t. You certainly could, and by the time the party was over, you had maxed out your entire energy reserve. So, when your demon told you he’d clean up the next day, you agreed and gave no thought to the fact that it would take him all of two seconds to clean up that night.

Once you had seen off the last of the kids and all of the parents, you trudged back up to your big, scary house. All the light in the barn went out behind you, but you paid it no mind.

Somewhere between the barn and the house, Beetlejuice disappeared. Again, you ignored it. It wasn’t uncommon for Beetlejuice to vanish without telling you, and on Halloween night you imagined there were a hundred more fun things for him to be off doing than watching you get ready for bed. Especially when you caught sight of yourself in your entryway mirror. It was the first time that night that you had seen yourself fully zombified beyond a brief glance at your dim reflection in a darkened, tentacled window.

Your face alone had several large patches of what looked like gaping wounds, and you could see more peeking out from your formerly white collar. You had been going for Proper Academic Zombie, and you looked like you would need a degree in showering to get all this gunk off of yourself. At least you could reuse the costume, maybe disrupt a seminar or two.

Shaking your head, you flicked the light switch beside the front door to turn off the overhead light. Instead of just that light going out, however, the table lamp under the mirror went out as well. So did the hall light over the stairs to your left, the kitchen down the short hallway in front of you, and the living room light beyond that. You tried flicking the switch again. Nothing.

Suddenly, a slam. Several slams all at once. All the shutters you could see swung closed forcefully. From the sound of it, all the shutters on the house closed.

You cleared your throat hesitantly. “Okay, very funny. Beej, that’s you, right?”

Silence.

“Beej?” Though you couldn’t yet hear your heart, you could feel it struggling against the walls of your chest. There was a slight ringing in your ears – the ever-present remnants of your teenaged years. Outside of that: nothing. You took a step, and the creaking of the wood seemed to echo through the whole house. For a brief, crazy moment, you thought about going out to your car. But it seemed the porch light was out too, and being inside a dark house was better than being outside on a dark night.

So, you took another step. Then another. You cursed your shortsightedness in leaving your phone in your room. You reached the stairs. You climbed them, you turned the corner. The wood settle beneath your feet with a deafening creak each step of the way.

There must be a short circuit. There had to be, somewhere. There was no reason for you to have simply lost power. When you reached your room, you saw that your alarm clock was still lit and showing the time, and it was plugged into the same wall outlet as your dark lamp. The box was in your basement.

No way were you going into the basement.

You reached out for your phone. It was dead. You looked over to one of your windows. Of all the windows you’d passed, this seemed to be the only one whose shutters hadn’t closed. Slowly – more slowly than you had moved all night, you crossed the room to look outside. You could see the full moon in all her red-orange beauty. Then, you let out the breath you had been holding. The moon wasn’t going anywhere, even if all the other light was gone.

You should have known better.

A shadow dashed across the moon then, but not at the surface. Through the air. Close to your window. Very, very close.

There was a muffled thud somewhere behind you. You jumped and whirled around to look. When you noticed the light from the moon fading, you slowly turned your head back and saw the shutters swinging closed. Before you could reach out to even open the window, they were completely shut.

Another noise, closer this time.

You couldn’t move. Your heart was racing. You couldn’t speak, you couldn’t breathe. You thought about jumping for your bed, some childish thought of pulling the covers over your head before the whatever-it-was could reach you running through your head, but even in your fear you knew it was foolish. It was too late – too close. Your stomach dropped, your hands shook, your legs felt like splintering wood.

Yet another noise. You heard the hinges of your bedroom door waver. It was pitch dark in the room. All at once, a ragged breathing rushed at you across the squeaking floor.

You screamed.

“Beetlejuice!”

.

.

Seriously, please reblog.

Tags List: @skiddyyo @a-okay-rj @geeky-marie @darkblueeyedperson @hannah-de-lioncourt @ironmansuucks @missihart23 @ballerinafairyprincess @thewolfisapartofmysoul

[moondustaeil]

If your moots (or blogs you want to be mutuals with) were fanfics, what would they be? I personally think you'd be a 'royalty au, protective brother king!Kun × princess/prince!reader × suitor!Sangyeon' fanfic! 📚

You just seem very mature and put-together to me.

hihi, my love!! This was so nice to do even if it took a long time, I loved it so thank you. Also thank you for saying what fic I would be, I wish I could live in that fic 🥺💙

If you’re not in here, I’m so sorry, I’ll still add you if you want or next time someone asks me this, I’ll add you!

you can find the fics and moots under the cut! I didn’t go in any particular order, just who popped in my mind at what moment and émi last bc she’s my world yes. This is way longer than expected

@sunhyuck

Au: soulmates 

Pairing: wanderer!Haechan x Kei 

Backstory: ever since Donghyuck accidentally met eyes with a stranger on the street, he is greeted with sunflowers scattered along his path. Young sunflowers dance under the sun, turning to the source of warmth and light. Just like the sun is all you've been gazing at ever since you walked on the same path as your soulmate. 

Why: because I truly think of Kei as one of the people I'll always go to and when thinking about soulmates, I think of people who find each other and accept each other despite different lives. That I will connect to the weird variety of subjects we talked about. I love you, my angel (if you're reading this). 

⠀

@neo-cult-ure 

Au: demonic entities , haunted house , roommates 

Pairing: composer!Taeyong x journalist!Ley 

Backstory: Taeyong has been shouting over his music to you for over half a year, almost begging you to dedicate a column to him and his music. When his equipment starts picking up the strange noises coming from the house, it becomes clear that the clock hasn't been stopping at 3:19am for nothing. With Taeyong discovering the entity living among you, you decide to dedicate the article to Taeyong and your invisible roommate. 

Why: do I even need to explain, this queen owns horror and the horror concept. She's the one I'll bow to because I owe her a lot and she's freaking talented.

  ⠀

@ceruleanskies 

Au: secret relationship 

Pairing: soloist!Yuta x stylist!Kai 

Backstory: ever since Yuta appeared on the red carpet with a short haircut, fans hunt for the person that made the decision to get rid of his mullet. All fingers point towards you, stylist of Nakamoto Yuta, from each finger a new opinion flows into your ears: too short, not the right colour, better looking with the mullet. Though one finger shoots the arrow right in the heart "they're dating." 

Why: because I truly adore Kai even though I'm way too scared to actually tell, I don't want to mess up and make her think that I'm some kind of weird person. In my eyes, she sparkles through my screen. 

⠀

@neonun-au 

Au: dating app 

Pairing: photographer!Johnny x Mads 

Backstory: just like he with a button alters between the different pictures on his camera, Johnny alters between the different profiles, swiping them in his desired direction. That's how you strand in his life and mostly his camera roll: the pictures he takes, one by one, capture you. 

Why: because even though we don't know each other well, I truly want to capture her in my memory and think about the smiles I had on my face when reading her messages. 

⠀

@flowerhyucky 

Au: arranged by fate (you can call this soulmates but I'm calling this arranged by fate)  

Pairing: Hendery x Ana 

Backstory: one day, the flowering plant amaranthus caudatus settles itself in the middle of an empty field. Another day, someone else's birth flower is planted next to the amaranthus caudatus. The young miracles of nature grow just as their owners do, however, they don't bloom until the love between you and Hendery starts to bloom. 

Why: I really like Ana and her URL actually inspired the story, I could write so many adorable aus to fit her but nothing would compare. I truly like her vibes and her personality is so beautiful, like wow. 

⠀

@smileyjaeminies 

Au: university , writer 

Pairing: writing student!Jaemin x student!Alex 

Backstory: exam season is closer than expected for you, with only a few days to go until you scribble your knowledge down on the exam sheet and a week to go until you need to hand in your paper. However, someone is willing you help you with that paper. Na Jaemin, student and writer who seems to have more control over his life than the earth has over global warming. As the word document increases in pages, so does your liking towards the young writer. 

Why: I met Alex thanks to thesunnyshow that we're both co-admins of, and it immediately felt as if we were friends. Alex helped me through the screen when I fell off my bike (yes haha, a 21-year-old one took the wrong brake) and I try to make it work when she's busy with uni but we have a shift. So I think we're a great team and that's why I picked this au. 

⠀

@fruityutas 

Au: broken relationship 

Pairing: Taeil x Emily 

Backstory: "Can I go on?" Taeil asks himself every morning, gazing upon your sheet-covering body as you drown in the world of sleep. The wind howls outside the window, and Taeil wishes the wind would push you towards him, but the soft blowing only pulls you further away from him. You feel a soft breath against your neck, the soft lips murmuring "without you, there's no way." 

Why: I don't know why I chose this particular plot, maybe it was because I was listening to a song and based it on that. Initially, I wanted to go for a cheerful and happy plot that reminded me of her URL, but I ended up with angst. I remember we had this talk about angst and went from that. Also, I adore her so much, I probably expressed that once in a gc already but I'm saying it again. 

⠀

@afishcalledfatin 

Au: friends to lovers

Pairing: Jungwoo x Fatin 

Backstory: for as long as you can remember, you've been friends with Kim Jungwoo. In your childhood and teenage years, the term BFFs would be engraved in each object you gave to each other, but now that you two are adults, life is different. You want to give him the world because he deserves everything, he wants to give you love because his heart is longing for yours. 

Why: because she feels like a friend that I've had for years, we don't always talk but when we do, it just feels like we've been friends since forever. I love that a lot about her and I love how easy she is to approach and talk to, she's a true darling. 

⠀

@heartyyjeno 

Au: strangers to lovers 

Pairing: Sungchan x Alesha 

Backstory: trainee life is tough for Sungchan, even thinking about having to walk for over half an hour to get to the dance studio is something Sungchan stopped looking forward to. However, he meets you on his way, walking along the same path to get to a different location. One step a day with you along his side is all it takes for him to look forward to it again, to walking with you and getting to know you better. 

Why: because Alesha is a great friend and we, unfortunately, don't talk as much as we used to, but that doesn't take away I'm always there for her and she's always there for me. Sungchan's walk resembles the many different talks that we had together and not all of them were fun, but we walked the path together.

⠀

@jimjamjaemin 

Au: youtuber , vlogger 

Pairing: vlogger!Mark x vlogger!Mona 

Backstory: Mark and you have been a couple for over a year, with the growing interest in your relationship, you and Mark start a YouTube channel. From a look in the life to fun challenges, you and Mark take over the crown of cute YouTube couples. 

Why: Mona and i didn't meet in the best situation, we started to talk when there was quite some drama in the fandom. But I love Mona and the thing she made me for my birthday reminded me of an editor which led me to a youtuber au!

⠀

@chaoticdeobi 

Au: bakery/coffee shop (bc how can I not, she kicked me out of the coffee queue) 

Pairing: soft-spoken!New x coffee shop owner!Bea 

Backstory: the coffee quote that hangs inside your coffee shop, is something that Chanhee cites every day. With a soft voice, he orders his coffee and then flashes you his smile when you proceed to tell him that the cookie is on the house. As you bring the coffee to his table, the last minute of your shift ticks by, and when you sit with him, you start your shift as girlfriend. 

Why: I literally love love love Bea, sometimes she reminds me of a soft-spoken person and other times she reminds me of a chaotic deobi. I still laugh to myself thinking about our talks, thinking about having fun together. We don't get to talk as much as I'd like, but when we do, I wish we could talk forever. 

⠀

@juyeonzz

Au: criminal , badass , something chique  

Pairing: criminal!Jacob x partner in crime!Qiu

Backstory: pointing the gun at his future victim, Jacob awaits your return. You explore the house: tugging at knobs of money-filled drawers, opening jewellery-clad treasures. But you are looking for the key to Jacob's heart, a golden key dusted with scratches, poisoned with old blood from when someone else locked his heart and pulled the key out harshly. 

Why: because Qiu really gives me chique and sad vibes, when I think about her, I think about a longing feeling described with poetic words. Qiu wasn't my first mutual but if I need to mention my first mutuals, there's a big chance I'll include her because it feels like she was one of the first people I got close to. 

⠀

@atbzkingdom

Au: dream 

Pairing: Haknyeon x Dee

Backstory: if Haknyeon were to have one more day on this earth, how would be spend it? He would make a timetable of which you are the only returning factor, because he would like to drown himself in time with you. Twenty-four hours in which he is the sun that illuminates each part of the world, the world that is you, rotating until the sun is replaced by the moon. 

Why: I don't know Dee that well because we haven't talked overly much, but whenever I think about her, I think about references with the earth, sun and moon or natural things. She's just a sweet person, and it seems really natural to talk to her! 

⠀

@127-mile

Au: muse , painting 

Pairings: Ten x Émi (but there's also Renjun in here)

Backstory: from the brush that Renjun manoeuvres, droplets of paint colour the blank canvas in a self-made story. Ten, the master that learned Renjun how to portray his muse, is now standing next to Émi, the young woman returning in each painting of Ten. Never had they stood next to each other: artist and muse. Never had they consciously smiled at each other. Never had they been real. Until now. Immortalised on the canvas, Ten hugs his Émi, they might both be droplets of paint with a shadow, but behind the canvas Renjun bids farewell to his last painting. His tear streaks the painting, blurring the line between reverie and reality 

Why: because Émi and Renjun are both my muses in life and writing, creatively but also in daily things. I proclaim my love for Émi a lot but that never takes away how genuine it is, because I genuinely love her and sometimes it seems so surreal that she's in my life. Sometimes I'm afraid that she's a dot, a droplet of paint that will fade by time until I have no more remains of her. But however long we have left, I will cherish and love her each day just like she loves Ten (isn't that a sad love story, I literally cried for like five minutes after this 😂)

[ahatintimepieces]

I know I literally gave you two ideas for prompts last night lmao

But

If you want a third drabble prompt for later... maybe “Bad Liar” by imagine dragons with the prince trying to reason with Vanessa/snatcher remembering how he tried to do so?? Idk lmao my brain is small

Haha, I’m always happy to hear what kind of songs you guys would like to read! So thank you! I wrote this a little quickly and hope it fits what you were looking for! Also going with the idea that he turns into the prince form when he naps for this one! Please enjoy! :D

“Vanessa! Vanessa, look at me, please,” he croaked, his cheeks crusted over with tears.

“You’ve lied to me, my prince,” Vanessa—or the shadow that consumed her—cooed in a voice as haggard as her appearance. Her clawed hands curled up around his chin and he jolted back, inhaling and tightening his stomach as he tried to retreat into the slick stone wall.

“Never,” he whispered, fresh tears streaming down his cheeks. “I never did. Please, you know I’m terrible at lying.” The last part came out more as a whine than he intended but a sob wracked his chest as he recalled all the times he did lie.

About sneaking bacon that one time.

About submitting the application to the school.

About sneaking out to stargaze.

And each time she had caught him because he was a terrible liar. Each and every time. So surely, she knew that he was genuine when he told her again and again that he hadn’t had an affair with the florist.

“You’re still lying!” Vanessa hissed, pinching her nails into his skin and drawing blood.

“Please, trust me, princess,” he felt his chest rise and fall rapidly in panic, but the chains and her claws kept him in place. He looked at the red eye that could be seen while the other was hidden by tangled hair. “Princess, look at me, please.”

The red glinted and his heart pounded.

“It’s not too late,” he pleaded, summoning all his strength to keep his golden gaze as kind and compassionate as possible. Perfect. Promise of a paradise beyond the cellar; the happily ever after they always talked about. He offered a weak smile, but glanced away as he stuttered, “W-we can go back, t-to how it was.”

She leaned forward, grinning and revealing sharp rows of razor-like teeth.

“I don’t believe you,” she growled, yanking her hand away and jerking his head down. He yelped, dizzy, as she turned on her heels and left the cellar. A cold wind howled outside, and he slumped.

Shivering, he turned his bleeding cheek and pressed it against the fabric of his sleeve. It stung and he winced. But it felt better than leaving it to the elements.

It got colder and he felt heavier, hanging. He wondered if maybe it was his fault. Maybe he was lying, after all.

“I just want to go,” he whispered, needing to hear himself. Even if Vanessa did release him eventually, could he fake it? Acting as if he had never been locked here? He wished he could forget. He wished he could erase it from his mind and the present. If he closed his eyes, could he convince himself this never happened? That he had delivered the flowers and they had embraced in love and they had smiled and they had been happy and there was nothing but feeling warm in her arms and seeing love in her gentle eyes and—

Fresh tears spilled over and he inhaled a sharp breath.

He was a bad liar.

“Snatcher?” A soft voice sounded close. He blinked against the bright light in the room, finding the kid leaning down an inch from his face.

“Gah!” He jumped back, feeling his chest throb but he wasn’t sure if it was from the kid waking him or from his dream. “Kid, what—?” He paused to yawn, stretching himself out.

“What did you do when you were alive?” Her blue eyes were wide as he resettled on the ramp, sitting up and draping his tail over the pillow pit.

“I was a lawyer.” He gave her a look, a little too tired to respond with a proper quip. “We’ve discussed this before.”

“Lawyers wear poufy sleeves?”

“What?” He scowled, snapping his talons and summoning a book. “Trying to look the part, Kiddo? Looking like a lawyer won’t magically file your taxes.”

“You wear poufy sleeves when you sleep.” She pulled her knees to her chest and rested her chin on them.

The book dropped into his lap.

He—he what?

“Y-you’re probably just seeing things,” he sputtered, avoiding eye-contact as he picked up his book.

“This happens all the time though,” she continued calmly. “Whenever you nap you look like a person.”

“I-I do not!” Snatcher snapped, frowning. That was impossible! He hadn’t—It had been centuries—He… was no longer human.

But he still dreamed… of a lifetime long ago.

“You’re a bad liar,” she returned, blinking.

The ghost pressed his mouth into a thin line, his fangs nearly invisible.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” he responded curtly.

She nodded, getting up and wandering down the ramp. He watched with a quirked brow as she grabbed a coloring book and box of crayons before shuffling back to his side. She stretched out on her stomach and started drawing quietly.

“Kid, I’m fine. You don’t need to sit here.”

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye before returning her attention to her picture.

“I know.”

“What do I have to do to convince you—” He trailed off, realizing what she said. “Wait, you know?”

“I know I don’t need to sit here,” she said, outlining a tree in purple. “But I want to.” She grabbed a brown crayon. “Are you upset?”

“What about?” He asked, opening his book back up.

“That you look human, sometimes.”

“Yes,” he hissed but even he could tell it lacked bite. She snorted and he demanded, “What?”

“You’re a bad liar,” she repeated, looking up with a smile. “But I believe in you.”

Turning back to her coloring, she didn’t see the ghost stiffen at her words. He thought back to the cellar, the horrid cold and hours of second-guessing, reprimanding, and hating himself. All that time, trying to explain how he had deserved it, trying to sift through all his shattered pieces and spiraling thoughts to make sense of it all. He remembered the soft plea to Vanessa that soon became directed at himself.

Please believe me.

Shaking his head, desperate to dissolve those thoughts and to stop thinking about his past, he turned back to her drawing, where she was adding the moon in the sky with stars.

“That looks stupid,” he commented.

“Your face looks stupid,” she retorted.

“Original comeback. Are you expecting a medal?” His golden grin stretched across his face and she giggled.

“Yes! Make it gold with purple.” She kicked her legs behind her without looking up from her picture.

“I’ll do purple with gold,” he countered, smiling genuinely. She paused coloring to laugh and he breathed easy for the first time since his dream.

While they continued their banter, the ghost mused how he had spent centuries telling himself the past didn’t matter. Now, he was beginning to think, whether it mattered or not, he might be able to find a way to be okay.

That was something he could believe in.