#I love their close bond( it only exists in my head) please see the vision

[milkywaystake]

I need to draw the 3rd year trio as one of these

[lanaslovelyletters]

Saw ur request post on my fyp and saw Anakin so I HAVE to ask!!!

Can you please do a suitless vader x Princess reader where he’s taking her hostage because he remembers her from his childhood? Like make it sort of smutty? Can you make it a series too??? Build on it however you want, but I would be suuuuper happy if you could do this

𝑫𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒅

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠...

Anakin x Princess!Reader

Part 1

Overall series warnings: 18+ content (smut), mature themes, swearing

Warnings: none

Backstory: You used to travel to Tatooine every now and then to watch pod races with your father, the king. Whilst there, you had developed a close bond with a young boy who was a couple of years older than you. One year when you traveled to Tatooine again, he was gone. He’d gone off to become a Jedi.

Summary: You were in your gardens one morning, when everything suddenly went dark and you woke up in an unfamiliar environment— dark energy surrounding you… and there he was.

Word Count: 1.3K+

Author’s note: I love Ani so much thanks for this request babes, LOVE. Kinda tricky with series as I have to plan a whole storyline out, BUT am willing to do it, cause who doesn’t love him?

You were a princess from a planet on the outer rim of the galaxy. A lonely one at that. Your handmaidens were your best friends, and your free time was spent reading and educating yourself. You strolled through the royal gardens as a means of routine, to not sit inside all day and slouch.

As for your family? What even was family? Your father, the king, was nothing but a power-hungry menace. He didn’t care for you and neither did anyone else in your extended family. All that mattered was the crown. If your suffering meant the success of the throne, so be it.

Nobody cared enough and although you were never physically alone— you had no one. You had the maids and that was about it.

It was custom that your personal maid always accompanied you, but that wasn’t the case this time around. You had woken up particularly early that morning. It was grey and cloudy outside with the after-effects of a rain storm. Perfect weather to stroll the gardens… you always did have an affinity for that kind of weather. The sun and the warmth weren’t exactly your style.

You slipped into a beautiful gown that was appropriate for the weather and stepped outside… or rather… you snuck outside. Alone time was rare and it was either disrupted by your maids, or your busy father. However, this morning was… off. You didn’t see many guards around the palace and didn’t hear any handmaidens either. Usually, there were night shift guards and maids that would stay until the day shift would come and take their place.

The air was thick with fog and you could barely see the plants you would tend to every day. All you could do was feel your way through the massive gardens.

But then you stopped.

A sound. You heard footsteps coming from somewhere. You weren’t a Jedi and never had come close to being one, but you weren’t without the force. You could feel a dark presence. It was surrounding you. It was thicker than the fog by now.

“Hello?!” You screamed out. For a while, there was no response. It was dead silent. You decided to venture deeper into the gardens in hopes of finding a hiding spot. However, the fact that force users would have no trouble locating you, even through this stuffy air— shook you to your core. You could only pray to whatever galactic entity there existed that you wouldn’t be harmed.

“Morning, darling… and sleep well.” A voice suddenly whispered behind you, before everything went dark.

Your head was pounding as if it was hit by a freight train. and you could barely make sense of where you were. The room was dimly lit and the floor was cold. The texture… was it marble? Was it glass?

Once you got your vision in check and your eyes finally adjusted to the darkness, you realized you were in a cell. You weren’t on the floor per se, you were on a block. That wasn’t much better though, it still hurt your back. The walls felt like eyes, observing your every move— but you knew that was just your own paranoia getting the best of you. A paranoia that was much granted. Mainly due to the fact that you’d been taken from your home.

“Hello?!” You screamed, trying to attract attention. If there were cameras in the room, they surely would’ve wanted to interrogate you now that you were awake, no? You got up and walked around to try and find any hidden lens but to no avail.

“I’m royalty. This is how you treat royalty?!” Nothing happened. Nobody came and it didn’t seem like anybody cared either.

So you decided there was nothing better to do than sit and wait. The only thing that brought you comfort was the fact that you were still in that gorgeous gown you had picked out for stalking the gardens. The gardens which once brought you such comfort.

It was only after several hours, that the doors to the cell finally opened with a whooshing sound. You heard footsteps emerging from the smoke that the doors produced. Then a face. It was familiar… yet so… unfamiliar. You couldn’t quite place your finger on it. Who is this man? He was beautiful. That was a sure thing. He had dirty blond, borderline brown locks that complimented his face. His eyes were easy to get lost in… and his face? His face was that of a painting by a romanticist. You watched as his eyes peered at you. Up and down.

“You’re awake.” Maker. Even his voice was perfect.

“Who are you?” You squinted your eyes in suspicion, as you stood completely still.

“You don’t recognize me?” He took a step closer.

“Am I supposed to?”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” Another step. You sat down on the block and scrambled as far back as you could until you were completely pressed up against the wall.

“Don’t touch me… you’re… you’re Vader, aren’t you? Darth Vader?” His getup made sense. The cape, the black boots, the armour— it was Darth Vader. But… you’d never even met Darth Vader before, so why did he seem so familiar to you?

“Didn’t even have to play 20 questions to figure that out. You’re certainly a princess.” He smirked slightly before returning to his otherwise cold demeanour. It was like watching a jester break character. It was chilling. He leaned down so that his face was in front of yours. Your eyes were beautiful to him. That rich colour…

“Yeah, well, I want to go home.” You scowled and diverted your gaze away from his.

“Look at me, won’t you?” His whisper was soft but cold. So cold. Cold enough to make you feel the hairs rise on your arms. Your spine felt like an ice block. When you continued to defy him, he grabbed your chin roughly and forced you to look into his eyes,

“Have you… any inkling… just how long it took me to finally get here?” His breath hit your face gently, but the dread in your chest and gut couldn’t appreciate his minty breath or his hypnotizing musk.

“I think you might remember some things if we jog your memory.” He stared at you until you felt a sharp pain scour your brain, working its way through the synapses and wrinkles. You wanted to scream, but nothing came out. Only silence. He wasn’t ‘jogging your memory’ he was torturing you into trying.

“Stop, please!” You finally let out. He sighed and let you come down from his little trick.

“I don’t know what you want from me, okay? I-I have fortunes. My-my family—”

“I killed them.” Immediately, you felt your heart drop to your stomach. Killed them. There wasn’t an ounce of remorse in his face. He was serious and he wasn’t looking for forgiveness.

As much as it should’ve hurt you to hear that news, it wasn’t too disheartening. You grew up surrounded by high society and fake people. Even if you were to try, it would be pretty hard to care at all. Then again, the fact that they were your family and he was willing to kill them just scared you. He was enough of a monster to do such a thing.

“Then what is it you want?” Your confused little doll's face made him want to laugh. It was cute just how clueless and pathetic you were in this situation. You were a princess, were you not? With power in the back of her hand? A slight smirk smeared across his face before he leaned closer. His breath hit your ear and your neck as he spoke,

“I want you.” The tone fell octaves deep, cold, and dull. Who the hell was this man?

To be continued…

Next part

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[amor-immortalem]

Replaced part 2

Part 1

Genre: angst. Angst with a happy ending, fluff

A/N: The 2nd part in the replaced!mc au that I wrote a couple days ago. Enjoy! Its super long: 9 1/2 pages long with a 4.6k word count.

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Blinding lights cloud Arella’s vision as she wakes. Her head turns to the side as she blinks, seeing nothing but a white vastness. Where was she? The human pushes herself up as someone calls out to her, a woman- no she’s an angel, Arella is sure of it from the way an ethereal glow seems to emanate from her form. She takes a moment to look over the angel in front of her.

Tan, freckled skin, black hair weaved with golden strands that ended at the middle of her back in soft curls, vibrant sea-green eyes- Arella thinks she’s the most beautiful thing to have ever existed. Her dress and wings are a pristine white save for the singe marks along the outer layers of her wings’ feathers and the bottom of her dress and the arrow that pierces through the center of her chest. It doesn’t take the human long to figure out who the angel standing in front of her is.

“Lilith...”

The angel only smiles sadly at her descendant. She crouches down next to Arella, brushing her curly black hair away from her face and the tears come forth almost instantly.

“They left me...” Arella’s voice is small. “They didn’t love me anymore.”

“But they do... And they always will.” The angel pulls her into an embrace as she speaks softly. “My brothers have always taken things for granted. It’s only once they’ve lost something important to them that they realize it’s worth.”

“What do I do next? What happens now?”

“Go back to them. Not as a human, but a demon.”

“How- !?” A terrible burning engulfs Arella’s body and suddenly she’s falling. Falling down, down, down, until the bright white light and Lilith disappear from view. Her skin- it feels like its burning away as she plunges deeper.

The next thing she knows, Arella is gasping for breath as air rushes into her lungs and the smell of Mammon’s cologne invades her sense of smell, his hold nearly crushing as he cradles her closer to his chest. She can hear Diavolo speaking but his words are garbled- a jumbled mess of word salad drowned out by the fire scorching her skin from the inside out. The way her entire body hurts is all she can think about as she succumbs to the comforting darkness of sleep.

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When she wakes, its two days later. Everything feels sharper. Her sight is better than it’s ever been. She can hear the crows cawing from the aviary on the other side of the house. She can even smell the individual scents of the brothers who were still up in their rooms and...

“You’re awake?” Melissa’s soft voice makes Arella recoil. Even as a whisper, it sounds like she’s screaming at Arella. “Oh no, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt your ears.”

“It’s... Please... Just let me have a few moments...”

Melissa nods and just sits quietly beside the newly awakened demon. It takes a few moments to get a hold of herself and get her newly sharpened senses in check but Arella manages to push herself into a sitting position.

“Would you like to talk?” The blonde asks softly, “I feel like we should clear up a misunderstanding...”

“What’s there to misunderstand?” Arella asks. “It seems pretty cut and dry to me... they chose you and cast me aside like a broken toy that had lost its novelty.”

“I’m sure it felt like that. And it's my fault, that much I’ll agree to. I should have never asked them to help me land a date with Satan... this wouldn’t have happened, right? I can understand if you despise me.”

Arella laughs at that. She doesn’t know why but despite being mad at six out of the seven brothers for not communicating this to her, it was entertaining to her. Was that all it was? Was all of this caused by something so simple as that? Arella knew her boys often had a one-track mind but this was so ridiculous, both on her part and theirs. She rolled off the bed as she laughed, tears streaming down her cheeks as her demon form manifested itself for the first time. Melissa only peered over the side of the bed at Arella, a worried look in her brown eyes as the laughter died down and the former human climbed back up on the bed.

“Are you... angry? With me?”

“Not with you but-” They were interrupted by the sound of three sets footsteps thumping down the hall above her head and before she knew it, Arella found herself back on the floor but this time pinned under Mammon who’s holding on to her with all of his strength as two of his brothers stood in the doorway having gotten there too late to stop him.

“Hey, Dumbass,” It’s Levi’s voice that she hears as he draws closer, “You’re going to crush her crashing into her full force like that!” The purple-haired demon tried to pull his brother away receiving a feral growl in response.

“Mammon, stop! Right now.” Arella tries to use their pact to enforce the order but.... It’s not there anymore. The Avatar of Greed only holds her tighter to him. There was nothing that would separate him from his mate- not after the way he was this close to losing her.

At some point by working together, Beel and Levi were able to pry the white-haired demon off of Arella and she sat up. That’s right... she had died so she no longer held pacts with the seven brothers. But if she had died, why was she here? Ignoring the chaos happening around her between the three brothers, she looked into the floor length mirror and softly gasped at her appearance.

A set of fluffy, feathered, black wings adorned her back while a set of horns jutted out from her head in a way that was not too dissimilar from Belphegor’s. She had black markings that framed the side of her face and reached out to just under her eyes and a crescent shaped one on her forehead. The newly turned demon only squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. She’s supposed to be dead! Why still breathing and why does she have a demonic form all of a sudden?!

As Mammon and his brothers continued to squabble over Arella, she curled in on herself, holding her hands over her ears. “All of you, just SHUT UP!” Sobs shook her body as the other demons turned their attention to her. Their voices were too loud and her ears were still too sensitive to loud sounds to the point if felt like the sensory overload was going to make her head explode.

“’Rella... I...” The Avatar of Greed, now free of Beel and Levi’s hold, reaches out to place his hand on her shoulder but is stopped when one of her wings slaps his hand away.

“Get out! All three of you... you... you should have just let me die like I wanted...”

And it's with that that the three Avatars look between each other before slowly leaving. Once the boys had gone, Melissa slowly moved over to Arella’s place on the floor, wrapping her arms around the other female as she comforted her.

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It’s nearly midnight now as the Avatars sit in silence in the common room. They had met to discuss a way to reforge the bond they had shared with the human-now-turned-demon, but no words had been said. They all knew who should be the first of them to do this but it was the how. How did they even begin to approach her at this point? Mammon was for having no plan at all, just playing the situation by ear. It’s not like she could overpower him in anyway. What’s the worst she could do? Kick him in the shins? Not something he hadn’t survived already.

“Well, since none of ya still have a plan yet- and it doesn’t look like any of ya are gonna come up with one soon- I'm going ta see her.” The white-haired demon stands and starts to make his way toward her room with no objections from his brothers as there was no other alternative they could offer him. He knows what she’s feeling- like she was abandoned, unloved. As her mate he wanted to fix all that- that was his responsibility. His brothers could make up with her later but he needed to do this right now. He was her first after all, he needed to be the first to talk to her.

As he opened her bedroom door, Melissa was leaving at the same time.

“So, you’re back... good I was just coming to find you. I tried to explain everything but I don’t think it worked and she still seems convinced you don’t love her anymore... Obviously this is something only you can fix so I’ll just leave you two to it. Also... I think she needs help changing back out of her demon form... she keeps knocking things over with her wings and getting agitated.”

The blonde gives her friend a pat on the arm as she headed off to find the others.

Slowly, Mammon entered her room. At the sound, the feathers on Arella’s wings puffed up, the wings herself raising to make herself more intimidating to him and he has to bite his cheek to keep from laughing at how ridiculous she looks like that. He closed the door behind him and leaned against it.

“Put yer wings down, baby. Ya don’t scare me. I wanna talk to you.”

“Well, that’s funny. I don’t want to talk to you,” Arella growled. “You made your choice and it didn’t include me.” She crossed her arms as she turned her back to him. It was cute in a way.

“Then how ‘bout I jus’ do the talkin’ then? Will ya just’ listen?” He offered her a deal, watching as her wings drooped slightly and he knew he had her. Even as a demon, Arella was incapable of not lending a listening ear when asked for it.

“Fine,” She huffed. “You won’t leave until you say whatever you want too anyway but I don’t care about whatever lies you have for me. I already know the truth.”

“Sure, whatever ya say, doll.” He moved to sit on her bed, goading her into talking to him.

“What’s that supposed to mean, huh?!” She stomped over to him a pout on her face. “I’ll have you know, I’m very angry with you. You-!”

Mammon cut her off with a kiss as he pulled her down on the bed with him. The surprise was enough to shock her out of demon form as she wrapped her arms around his neck. When he pulled away, he held her gaze with his.

“I’m sorry for not bein’ there for ya... I messed up- alla us did and we’re so sorry but don’t think for a second that I don’t love ya. Ya mean the world ta me.”

“You sure have a funny way of showing it, you infuriating demon. I heard the two of you flirting in the dining room that one night... You didn’t even ask her to stop.”

“Yeah, it sure probably sounded like that, didn’t it? We weren’t flirting with each other. Melissa asked me to help her practice her pick-up lines for Satan. She ain’t interested in me and I made it clear I wasn’t lookin’ for it if she was ‘cuz I had you.” he poked a finger at the center of her chest.

“But... but... You didn’t say anything. Why didn’t you tell me? I could have helped too.”

“’Cuz I’m a idiot and it never occurred to me what kinda impression you’d get from it. C’mon, Treasure, this ain’t news.” He tries to flash her a smile. “’N before I knew it, almost a year had passed... I felt really guilty and tried ta call ya... but you’d already made up yer mind... Ya got me good, kid. I learned my lesson the hard way...”

Arella frowned as she watched his eyes for any sign of a lie. “How am I still alive? How did I suddenly become a demon...? I carved that long gash up my arm deep for a reason.”

“We gave ya my blood... jus’ a small amount but it did the trick. We turned ya and ya healed up immediately.” He pressed their foreheads together. “None of us know what we’d do without ya. And the fact that we almost lost ya two days ago scares us... We’ll make it up to you somehow. Even if it takes thousands of years.”

“You, specifically, can start tonight. Do you know how many date nights or movie nights you’ve missed? How much I’ve missed just having you in bed with me? I’m not letting you go for the rest of the night!” Arella hugs him closer to her. “That’s what you can do start making it up to me.”

“Yeah, sure thing, Babydoll, but we’re gonna sleep in my room. Ya don’t need this room anymore.” he hums as he shifts his arms under her and lifts her up, carrying her up to his room for the night.

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The pair sleeps so late into the next morning that they end up missing breakfast. By time they come remotely close to even wanting to roll out of bed, Levi is already banging on Mammon’s door.

“It's noon already, guys! Get your butts out of bed! You’ve had Arella too long! Stop being greedy with her.” It's not the Avatar of Envy’s typical wakeup call but desperate times call for desperate measures. He had a whole stock pile of games he was dying to play but was saving the initial play through to be with Arella and he couldn’t take it anymore. Unlike Melissa, she was actually in to all the niche horror games that were supposed to come out over the past year.

“What’s he ramblin’ about now?” The Avatar of Greed looks up at his door before letting his head fall back on the pillow as he groaned. “I don’t wanna get up yet.”

“Then you can stay in bed.” Arella presses a kiss to his cheek before rolling away from his grasp. “I think your brother is only interested in me anyway considering he’s not saying anything about the money you owe him.

“But I don’t want you ta go,” The demon gives his mate the biggest puppy dog eyes in an attempt to get her to come back to bed with him. “Levi’ll keep ya all day.”

“And you’ll have me all night. I promise. Besides, I missed hanging out with him.” She turns to the door. “I’ll be there shortly, Levi!”

“Fiiiiiiiinnnnnneeeeee,” Mammon groans, sulking just a little bit and Arella laughs at his reaction.

“Oh? Is that a hint of sulking I detect coming from you?” Her tone is teasing, “You- the demon who’s been ghosting me for the past eleven months to the point where I thought you weren’t interested in our relationship anymore- is sulking because I’m going to end up spending the rest of one day with your little brother? I’m starting to detect double standards here, my dear.”

“Oh, shaddup,” He chucked a pillow at her head as they both laughed. “Just go and get dressed.”

“I will,” She made a ‘hmph’ like sound before running off to change out of her pajamas. “I’m stealing one of your flannels by the way.” She informs him as she walks out of the walk-in closet fully dressed.

“The hell you are!” He scrambles out of bed and chases her down as she leaps up the stairs and makes a break for it down the hall toward Levi’s room. As she runs, Arella thinks maybe being a demon has its perks after all.

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“So what games are we playing first?” Arella makes herself comfortable on the floor next to the third born.

“It's another time loop horror game where if you don’t solve the mystery before times up your character has a permadeath and you have to go through everything again with the suspect being a new person each time. I promise this time it won’t affect us... Maybe.”

Arella laughs at that, remembering back to that time where they had to ferret out someone’s wish before the time loop reset. “Let’s just hope for your sake it doesn’t. I dread to see what Lucifer might do to you.”

“Yeah,” the purple-haired demon smiles as they begin the game.

After a couple hours of the two demons playing niche horror games, they took a bit of a break.

“I missed days like this... The days where we’d binge anime or play games.... I wish I hadn’t gotten forced into helping the others... Initially, I wasn’t going to since we already have one couple doing gross normie things. We didn’t need another.”

Arella laughs at that. “So, who was it that twisted your arm into helping?”

“Asmo bullied me into it. They were so relentless about it that I just got fed up and caved.”

“You know what, that tracks.”

“I really am sorry... You don’t hate me, do you?”

Her eyes widen at that. “No, Levi. I don’t hate you and I don’t think I can. You know I’ve never been one to hold grudges- especially with the seven of you. I always seem to forgive you guys eventually... And it seems like you all feel remorse for what happened so there’s no need to stay mad at any of you...”

“You know... Lucifer cried for you... when he and Mammon brought your body back to us two days ago... he was crying- they both were... And that’s when we really realized what we had done to you... that you were gone.”

“But I’m back now,” the demon says softly. “And this time, you guys won’t be getting rid of me. I’ll be around for the rest of your lives and I can’t think of a better way to spend it. Now, let’s get back to the game. I don’t know about you but I can’t wait to see what happens next.”

Levi only nods in return as he turns back to the tv.

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“Arella!” Asmo links their arm with hers as they drag Arella off to their room. “How’re you feeling now? Better?”

“Uh... Yeah, thanks for asking. Where are we going?”

“My room, of course! We’re going to have a little bit of a spa day. No offense, but your skin looks absolutely trashed. Plus, now that you have a demon form, I can show you all the best oils and polishes that I use on my horns and I heard from Beel that you have the prettiest black wings that are just like Lucifer’s- okay, the pretty part I added on but still! I know some inexpensive, but quality oils to use when you preen them that’ll keep them looking pristine at all times.”

“Thank you, Asmo, I appreciate it.”

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As the pair sat on the floor in the Avatar of Lust’s room, face masks in place, Asmo pulled out their endless collection of nail polish. They took one of Arella’s hands in theirs as they thought about what colors would work best for her that wasn’t already used for their brothers.

“How would you feel about a magenta? Or maybe- no, Lord Diavolo’s nails are black so it would be a repeat... Oh, oh what about that glittery gold that you like when we pair it with a black base? I bet you’d look good with rose gold nails too.”

“What about black with a gold design? It would be a bit different wouldn’t it plus I can’t remember anyone having designs on their nails. Aside from when you do nail art on yourself.”

“That’s genius! Why didn’t I think of that? Anyway, let’s get started.” The demon sets to work on her nails, letting out a satisfied hum once the first layer is done. While they waited for it to dry, Asmo pulled out some issues of DevilStyle for them to read. Some of their outfits had been featured in the latest issue and since some of them had been ones Arella had helped them refine months ago, they wanted her to see how their hard work paid off.

“They look amazing, Asmo.” She smiles as her eyes shine. “Is that the one we worked on together?”

They nodded. “Mhm. Mammon even modeled one of them. That one specifically, I tailored to him myself so it would look its best.”

“Can I see it? How long ago did he do this shoot?”

“Three months ago.” They turned to the centerfold. “He looked fantastic in it.”

“That he does- but then again when doesn’t he?”

“Oh, you’re just saying that because you’re biased.”

“Mmm, you’re not wrong.” and they both laughed softly at that. “So... I heard you were the mastermind behind trying to get Melissa and Satan together?”

“Yeah... It took forever too. I only thought it would take a few weeks since he’s my brother and I should know his tastes better than anyone but almost eleven months? It feels like a failure to my matchmaking skills.”

“So that’s why you were always busy with Melissa, huh? At least it worked right?”

“Thank the stars it did. But I was starting to think that it would never happen. Sorry we didn’t include you in the planning- we really should have... I really caused you a lot of pain, didn’t I?”

Arella nodded. “It hurt a lot thinking you guys had grown bored of me. Especially with Melissa being so much more than I ever could be.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, look at me...” Arella makes an up and down motion with her hands. “She’s gorgeous. Long legs, blonde hair with pretty brown eyes that bring you in, skinny but not sickly looking. Right off the bat, she looked like she belonged here with you guys. And then you have me who regularly looks like a hot mess. I’m scrawny, far too skinny and I look like a midget standing next to any one of you. I guess for as much as I seem to fit in with you all, there’s always been a part of me that hasn’t. And I guess, once Melissa got here, it felt more prominent. Your little plan which took up everyone’s free time didn’t help.”

“I’m sowwy.... You’ll forgive me, right?” Asmo gave her the puppy dog eyes.

“What do you think, hmm?”

The Avatar of Lust threw their arms around her- careful of their face masks. “I knew you would. C’mon it’s time to get these face masks off.” They offered their hand to Arella as they went to go wash their faces off.

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Arella admired her freshly painted nails as she walked down the hall. Unbeknownst to her, she was being stalked by a certain white-haired demon. He was quiet, sneaking up on her before he grabbed her.

“Gotcha!” He laughed as she let out a small squeak. “You’re mine now. C’mon, we’re goin’ out.”

“Out? Out where?” She wrapped her arms around his neck.

“A date, obviously. Told ya I was gonna make it up to ya for missin’ all them date nights...” he smiled as he set her down and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “I’m not takin’ no for an answer.”

“Alright, Alright.” she hummed. “I wouldn’t tell The Great Mammon ‘no’ anyway.” She laced their fingers together. “So, where’re are you taking me, love.”

“It's a surprise, so I can’t tell ya.” And with that the pair made their way out on the first date they’d had in months.

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As the days went on, Arella found herself being tugged in all different directions by the brothers. There were days where as soon as they got out of class, Beel was dragging her off to a new café that had opened up that week or Belphie was taking up the rest of her free time with multi-hour-long naps- something Mammon had some choice words about.

Satan and Arella would exchange books for light reading as they sat in the library together and discussed their favorites. Sometimes Melissa would join them too, just as ecstatic about the books she’d gotten from the both of them. Lucifer would leave her teas order specifically from the human world that she often enjoyed. They had even returned to their occasional late-night chats over the same teas.

At school, Luke would often cling to Arella- not caring that she was now a demon as to him she would always just be Arella, human or otherwise- while Simeon only observed them with slight amusement, only to pull the small angel away once they had to split up for classes. The older angel had taken to calling or texting almost nightly to check on her.

Solomon-bless his heart- had started hanging around more, making various dishes for her to try at lunch and asking for her opinions on them. Having never learned from her prior experiences with the sorcerer's cooking, Arella still ate them out of both curiosity and politeness. Now that she was a demon, for some reason Arella had actually come to appreciate and enjoy the meals Solomon would make for her. The pair even joked about Arella making a pact with him but it was just that: a joke.

Now that it was months later, Arella felt even more ridiculous about ever feeling unloved by the people in her life- something they had proven untrue with their actions. Even with Melissa staying with them for an extended period of time after what should have been the end of her exchange year, Arella never felt cast aside for the blonde again. The pair had even begun hanging out together on their own without the influence of their housemates- something that Arella had wanted since Melissa first gotten there.

“So, what would you like to do today, Melissa?” Arella asked as the two women walked down the street. “I know you’re getting close to your return to the human world... its only a few weeks off.”

“Yeah... I don’t even know where to begin.” The blonde sighed. “What did you do during the last few weeks before you left after the initial year here was up for you?”

“I spent most of my time hanging out with the boys. They were all really upset to see me go... Are you planning to come back at some point? And what about you and Satan? Are you two going to keep in touch? You’re very good for each other- like two peas in a pod.”

“We’re going to, yes.” She confirmed. “I’ll still have my D.D.D. when I go back so we’ll talk and video chat through there. I’m going to miss you all though. I’ve had so much fun over the past year and half and it's all thanks to you guys.”

“I’m happy to hear you say that.” The demon smiles. “No one here is going to forget you. Make sure you try to come back at some point. They guys and I would be very happy to have you back.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Melissa hums as they enter the arcade.

After that it seemed like life had gone back to a somewhat normal house hold just with one more added on. Everything was at peace now even with some of the days where Arella feels less than good about herself. But she always had one of her seven demons there to remind her just how precious she was to them. During those times, she couldn’t think of a more suiting way to enjoy the rest of her long life.

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

Part 3 (the bad ending)

find more on my masterlist

[ohmygoodnessgraciouss]

Reality Check - Chapter 3

Thanks for the love!  It’s insane to me how quickly this blew up!  And I’ve loved hearing theories by you guys! The show must go on, so let’s not wait any longer ;) 

Summary: Y/N and Wanda were very close after returning in 2023.  The two bonded over the loss of their partners.  It wasn’t enough to keep Wanda grounded after she found Vision’s body though, and Wanda wants the best for her friend.  Unfortunately for Y/N, this means she’s going to be thrown into a reality she wasn’t expecting.

Missed the first part?  Read it here! Need chapter 2?  Go down to the tags and click #Reality Check Masterlist ! 

Scott led you to a nearby park.  You never managed to get those guitar strings for Loki, so you hoped he had more at home that he didn’t know about.  You sat down on a bench with Scott, who looked around carefully, as if to ensure there were no wandering eyes.  Not a person was in sight, but you assumed that was because it was the middle of the weekend.  Everyone was at home, spending quality time with one another.  

“I don’t understand still.  What is it that you wanted to ask me?” You asked him, once he finally turned back to look at you. 

“Do you remember how you first got here?” 

“Well, yes, you pulled us outside of the store,” You laughed.  

“No-” He shifted in his seat, “-Do you remember when you first came to this town?” 

“Of course, I moved here with my husband when...” You drifted off.  “When we...” 

He looked at you expectantly.  “Do you remember?” 

You shook your head, almost upset with yourself for not remembering.  

“No, I don’t.”

---

“Wanda, what do you think you can do about it?” You asked your friend who was pacing around your shared apartment.  She had her hair pulled back in a low ponytail and she was dressed in leggings and a sweatshirt.  It was clear she hadn’t been taking care of herself.  Some of the injuries she sustained during the final battle were still visible.  They complimented the dark circles under her eyes, showing you exactly how she felt on the inside.  

“Y/N, we have to go take him back.” She said, finally stopping in her tracks.

“You don’t even know what S.W.O.R.D is doing though!  Maybe they’re trying to extract important data from him.” 

“Or they’re trying to weaponize him.  Exactly what he didn’t want.” Her voice was stern, and she was trying to control her anger.  You knew she was right, but you wanted to believe it wasn’t true. 

“And you believe you could bust right in there, take his body, and get away with it?  Wanda, I know you’re hurting but this is absurd!” 

“You say it as if you wouldn’t do the same for Loki.” 

“Because I wouldn’t!” You hissed.  You stood up and walked over to the girl, whose eyes were starting to glow a dim red.  “Vis wouldn’t have wanted you to keep going after him like this.  He would want you to move on.” 

“That’s what everyone keeps telling me.  Y/N, I know you understand this feeling.  You said it yourself, you nearly went after Loki in that timeline after he took the tesseract.” 

“But I didn’t.  The opportunity presented itself but I knew deep down that I couldn’t do it.  This is our reality.  Our universe.  Our timeline.  My Loki is gone.  I can’t do anything about it.” 

“But what if we could?” She asked, zoning out rather quickly.  Wanda was no longer looking at you, but rather looking out into the open as if there was an opportunity that presented itself. 

“What are you talking about?” You asked nervously.  

“There’s nothing grounding us right now, Y/N.  Everyone is out there, partying, celebrating, having fun with their loved ones.  We don’t get to have that.  Not in the same sense at least.  But with my powers-” 

“Don’t you dare say what I think you’re going to say.” 

“We deserve happiness.  Even if it’s only temporary.” 

“You’ll trap yourself in there.  It’ll be your dream world and you’ll never want to leave.  I know you, Wanda.  You can’t do this.” 

“Can’t I?” She stormed out of the room before you could say anything more.  You wanted to run after her, but maybe some space was what she needed. 

You regretted that decision three days later. 

--

“Neither do I,” He said, breaking you out of your trance.  He sighed dejectedly.  “You’re the first person I’ve had a chance to ask about this.  Anyone else runs away to do something else before I have the opportunity.” 

“What are you trying to say?  This is a perfectly normal neighborhood.” 

“I’m trying to say it’s the exact opposite of that, Y/N.  There is nothing normal about this town.  Nothing.  How did you get here?  Why did you come here?  Doesn’t it feel like everything is dull?  Colorless?” 

“Why would it be anything other than normal, Scott?  Are you trying to say magic is real or someone has this whole town hypnotized or something?  It’s madness!” You exclaimed.  “And if you believe that so much then why don’t you just leave?” 

“That’s the thing, I can’t.” 

“What do you mean you can’t?” 

“I mean there’s no way out of this town.  If you want me to leave, you first.  I’ll follow your lead.  But you’ll understand what I mean as soon as you get to the border.  It seems like it just goes on and on and you never reach the sign that says you’re leaving Westview.  There’s no way out.” 

You stood up from the bench quickly, like a lightbulb finally lit up in your head.  You shook your head and turned to leave.  “I don’t know what you want me to do here.  I’m happy with my life.  You just sound insane.  No wonder everyone tries to avoid you.  I have to get to the talent show.  My husband needs me.”  

“Then go to him, but mark my words Y/N.  Something is wrong.” 

---

“Loki, I’m so sorry!  I got caught up with someone at the store!” You gave him an apologetic smile.  He was standing behind the stage, tuning the guitar once more before he went on.  He smiled back at you when he saw you walking up. 

“It’s quite alright, love.  I’m just happy you’ll get to see me perform.  I think you’ll love the song I have picked out.  It’s one you haven’t heard from me yet.” 

“You mean I haven’t heard this one a dozen times this morning already?” 

“Not at all,” He grinned.  

“Well, I’m looking forward to it.  Break a leg, hon.” You kissed his cheek as a woman motioned for him to go up on stage.  She had her hair up and she carried a clipboard with her.  You realized you didn’t know her, so you walked over to her as you watched Loki.  

He introduced himself and began playing a song.  “Hey Good Lookin’” to be specific.  You laughed lightly as he glanced over to the end of the stage, giving you a small wink.  

“He takes my comments too literally sometimes,” You shook your head.  The woman smiled politely.  

“He’s a very good singer.  You’re lucky to have him.” 

“Oh, I am.  Sometimes I wonder what I would do without him.  He’s been my best friend for God knows how long.” You watched him turn to look at the crowd, a bright smile on his face as he sang the lyrics.  The crowd watched with light smiles as the man played. 

“That’s the best relationship you can have.” 

“Oh!  I’m sorry, I just realized I never introduced myself.  I’m Y/N,” You introduced yourself. 

“I’m Geraldine.  I’m one of Wanda’s friends,” She replied.  

Wanda seemed to pop up at the mention of her name because the next thing you knew you saw her next to you.  “How wonderful!  Hey Wanda, how are you adjusting to the town?” 

“Well, it’s been quite a big adjustment but everyone here is so welcoming that it’s easy!” She said, straightening out one of her gloves.  “Now it would be a little nice if my husband decided to show up soon.  We go on right after Loki.” She started fidgeting with her fingers.  

“Oh you two have met?” You asked her.  She seemed to freeze for a moment, before relaxing again and responding. 

“Yes, right before you showed up.  He’s so sweet!” She gushed.  

“Well, he is quite charming.  As I’m sure you can see by what he’s singing right now.  I mentioned Hank Williams once this morning and this is what I get for it,” You giggled. 

“Aw, that’s so romantic of him.” 

“It truly is.  But enough about me and Loki, Geraldine, when did you arrive in town?” You asked, turning towards her. 

“Oh, I’ve been here for a while, I just haven’t had the time to participate in any of these fun events until a few days ago. Perhaps we should have an evening out with just us girls one day, get to know each other,” She responded, 

“That would be great!  We could go out, find something fun to do, get a break from our husbands,” You said, laughing.  Wanda laughed a little as well.  

“I’ll have to see when I’m free,” Wanda mentioned.  “We’re still trying to settle into our home so life has been a little chaotic.  I feel like I need some magical stone or something to reverse time and give me a chance to relax.” All three of you chuckled at her statement. 

“Now that would be a wonderful tool.  If only it existed,” You groaned dramatically.  

“Well, either way, if you ever need any help settling in, let me know Wanda.” Geraldine mentioned.  You nodded your head in agreement.

“Yeah, don’t ever hesitate in reaching out.  We’re here to assist in whatever you need.” 

“You girls are so amazing!” She exclaimed, hugging the two of you.  You smiled and hugged her back.  

As she broke the hug, Loki walked off the stage and back to you.  “You were amazing, honey,” You complimented him. 

“Oh please, you weren’t even listening all that much.  But thank you anyway,” He kissed the top of your head.  Wanda and Geraldine watched with small smiles. 

“Wanda, Vision needs to get here in another five minutes otherwise I can’t do much more.  They’ll tolerate another break but that’s all I can do,” Geraldine mentioned, walking up to the stage.

“Thank you Geraldine,” She sighed, clearly frustrated.  

“He’ll show up.  He must know how much this means to you Wanda, so I have no doubt he’ll be here in time,” You said.  She nodded her head.  

“He’s never late.  He’s always on time, always punctual.” 

To ease her panic and worry, Loki decided to change the subject.  “I don’t believe we’ve met yet.  I am Loki,” He introduced himself.  You furrowed your brows in confusion. 

“I thought you two already met,” You asked.  

“Well I know she’s been in the neighborhood for a few days now, love, but I haven’t had the opportunity yet to properly introduce myself.” He responded.  

“I’m Wanda,” She smiled nervously.  She was trying to figure out a way out of this situation.  Fortunately, Vision was running over just in the nick of time.  He seemed out of breath, with his full magician’s suit on.  “Where have you been?!” She began to yell at him. 

You walked away a little, giving them space.  Loki followed closely behind you.  He seemed confused, but only by your expression.  It didn’t seem like he was concerned by Wanda.  “What was that about?” You asked him.  

“What do you mean?” He tilted his head slightly, much like a dog.  

“Wanda said that you guys met already, while you were on stage.  And then you act like you didn’t know her at all.” 

Before he could respond, you noticed a glint in his eyes.  It was like a red mist reflecting in them.  The color faded quickly, back to the grey you were used to.  He seemed phased out, like something else caught his attention.  “We briefly talked right before you arrived, so maybe that’s what she meant.” 

You nodded absentmindedly.  You didn’t believe him at all.  Too many things were becoming too suspicious at this point.  Loki saw how you reacted, hurt flashing in his eyes.  A part of you would’ve felt guilty if you didn’t feel like you were being left in the dark constantly.  

“Loki I wish I could believe you, but so many weird things have been going on lately.”  You muttered under your breath.  

“Y/N, what’s wrong, love?”  He asked, placing his hands on your waist.  He was concerned, but he didn’t know what to do. 

“It seems like everything is off.  I’m seeing weird things around this place, weird people.  It all started when Wanda came to town, and now there’s some weird guy that I met at the store and-” 

“Wait, what weird guy?” 

“The one that I bumped into a few days ago.  He talked to me today and he sounded absolutely insane.”  

“What did he talk to you about?” 

“He started asking me questions I didn’t know the answers to.  He started spouting out some weird stuff about the town.  I ended up walking away because he wouldn’t stop pressing about it,”

“I don’t trust that man,” He said, almost afraid. 

“Me neither.  But with the other weird and strange things happening now, I wonder if there’s any substance to what he’s talking about.” 

“Y/N, don’t start with this.  Don’t get yourself caught up with someone like him.  You’ll drive yourself mad with this.” He pulled you closer to him by your waist as you avoided his eyes. 

He lifted your chin with one hand, forcing you to look at him.  “There’s something wrong here, Loki.  Do you remember how we got here?” 

“How we got here?” He echoed. 

“When did we move here?  When did we get married?  When did we decide to get married?” You asked him. 

“That doesn’t matter, love.  The important thing is that we’re here now, together.” He pressed. 

“You’re avoiding answering the questions.” 

“We deserve happiness, don’t you think?” You froze when he asked that.  Something about that phrase, those words, were eerie.  

You pulled away from him quickly.  “Don’t say that.  Loki, I deserve to know how we got to this point in our lives.  I can’t remember what we did to get here.  If you won’t tell me, then I need some time alone.  I’ll be home later tonight, but please don’t follow me.” 

You started walking away, refusing to look at Loki.  You know you’d run right back if you saw the heartbreak in his eyes.  

W̵̲͓̱̹̻̜͖̟̺̲͕̍̉͑̀̈͜͝ͅh̴̨̻̠̫̫̲̟͖͊̃̐̓̈̅̄͜a̶̢̛̜̝̯̩̻̾́̐̓͛́͜ț̵̡̜̗͓̱̠̝̖͚͕̹̗͚͖͗'̶̧͙͉̜͈̖̹̠͍̓ş̴̢̡̥̰̤̱̩͓̹̦̠̥̞̎̾͊͘͜͠ ̴̡̙̬͓̻͉̭̗͎̙͕͌̈́g̶̛͉̜̯̥̍͒ö̴̢͙͇͍̮̮̝̗͈̲̬̪̯́͋ͅͅĩ̶̧͕̜͖͖͎̌́̂̐͗̏́͛̃̄͘͠͝n̴̨̢͙̼̩͕̼̮̬̪͙̊̽͊̓̇̈̀̈́͒̈́̓͘͜͝ǧ̸̱̮͕̮̻̻͇̖̪̯̳̂̈́̉̾͐͜͠ ̸̭̼̃͂̇͗̓̆͐̓͗̀͋̑̉͊͛ơ̶̡̡̧̩̤̙̤̯͇̝̞̫̤͓̆͑̓̉̌͂̃̓̍̋̄͘ͅņ̶̯͓̭̺̹̪̅̓̍́͗̅͗͘͝ ̶̢̡̼̗̙̤̫̳͇͓̻͉̼̯͈͐̔̄̄͊̈́̐̿̔̄̈́̕ṋ̴̭̫͖̜̫̦̀͆̒͘ͅo̸̗͊̋̏̇̊̾̿́̆̇̈́̑͝͝w̶̛̛̼̓̍̀͐̄̀̈́̈́̿̽̚͘͝?̷̳̜̜̺̼͙̜̰͊͊͗̆͒̋͜

“Darcy?” 

“What’s Wanda doing now?” 

“She’s performing a magic show.  It’s just like any other sitcom.  She’s trying to hide her powers because Vision has decided to go haywire.” She said, taking a sip of her coffee. 

“Wait, what’s that?” Jimmy asked, pointing to the background.  

“It looks like Y/N and Loki.” 

“It looks like they’re fighting,” She responded, pointing out their frowning expressions, their stiff body language.  

“Would Wanda script that?”

“I doubt it.  She’s apparently living the perfect little sitcom life after all.  She’d never want people fighting like that.” 

Suddenly, the television screen flashed for a moment.  The camera panned to the talent show, pointing directly at Wand and Vision.  You could no longer see the other couple. 

“She must’ve noticed.”

“And she doesn’t want anyone else seeing.”

.

.

.

.

Taglist: @emberfulclass @momoneymolife @high-priestesss @hailey-the-heathen​ @mochminnie @dpaccione @intricate-melody @lindseyrae20 @storminateacup15

[iliveiloveiwrite]

The Power of Touch

Request: Hi! I'd like to request a oneshot for Harry (I just love him so much) where him and the reader have this soulmate bond that makes the pain on Harry's scar go away with the reader's touch, please I love your writing and I'm sure you'll do this concept justice!❤️❤️❤️

A/N: I love Harry too, nonnie. He’s one of my favourites to write for so request him as much as you want!! Thank you for sending me your request and trusting me with it! I hope you like it! I hope I've done your request justice! I do enjoy writing Soulmate AUs and finding new ways to approach them. I hope you all enjoy!

Warnings: mentions of pain and food, some swearing, passing out - but there's some really cute fluff at the end I promise!! I don’t just write angst!!!

Word count: 2.1k

In the muggle world, the idea of soulmates is very much a fairy tale whispered to little girls and boys before promises of sweet dreams. The idea, though, follows muggles to adulthood; always wondering whether there was someone out there perfectly made for them.

In the wizarding world, the magic of soulmates is very real. Young witches and wizards hang onto the tales of their parents, of their grandparents who had found their soulmate in the other.

When asked repeatedly by curious minds – how did you know? How will I know? The response was always the same: “They took away my pain.”

The sign of the soulmate bond between witches and wizards manifested itself through pain. They would feel their soulmate’s pain but could also relieve pain too. Feeling the pain of your soulmate was a marker of being ready to meet your soulmate.

But here’s the catch: to find relief from their pain, you have to be touching your soulmate.

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

Harry Potter was famously known across the wizarding community as The Boy Who Lived. He had come out his parent’s cold-blooded murder relatively unscathed. His only injury being a scar marring the right side of his forehead, perfectly shaped like a lightning bolt – or for the more morbid, the wand movement of the Killing Curse.

The scar marking his forehead was the remnants of the use of a forbidden curse.

The pain of the scar was always there; simmering under the surface of his skin like a deep ache. It only flared to a white-hot pain when the Dark Lord was nearby.

Harry was experiencing the increasing pain more often now.

Harry felt awful for his soulmate; not only would they have to live a target on their back the moment the connection was made, and the bond accepted, but they’re having to cope with the pain from his scar as well as numerous other injuries he’s received over the years.

In comparison to him, his soulmate isn’t hurt often. Which in the beginning had Harry panicking, thinking he wasn’t ready to meet his soulmate or worse, he didn’t have one. It was rare for a witch or a wizard not to have a soulmate, but it happened, and it would be Harry’s luck for him not to have one.

Then he felt it; a sharp pain in right hip as if his soulmate had walked into the edge of a table. The ache lasted for an hour and a bruise bloomed overnight. Harry didn’t like to admit it but he poked the bruise in disbelief at the very fact of his soulmate existing.

His first priority for when he met was to apologise for all the pain you had suffered so far. His second priority was to take you out to Hogsmeade, to get to know you better.

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

Your soulmate suffered with migraines.

They had to. Nothing else could explain the blinding pain you felt in the right side of your forehead that most of time had you curled up in your dorm room with the curtains to your bed closed tightly to keep the light out.

You had been experiencing your soulmate’s pain for over a year now. You were more than ready to meet them, if only to rant at them over the pain they caused you. The migraines were the start of it but then there were the dull aches of bruises and sharp pains of cuts.

A lesson on safety was your second priority if and when you met your soulmate.

Your first priority was to ensure that they wouldn’t be this hurt again.

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

Your head had felt fuzzy all day. As if it wasn’t quite working to its full potential; that there was something going on.

It had been a challenge at breakfast to eat anything; the increasing pain in your head making you too nauseous to eat a single bite. Your friend, Jenny, urged you to go back to bed – to spend the day resting. You wave off her protests, stating that you felt fine enough to go to class – you would feel better by lunch, you promise.

You steadily feel worse throughout the morning, but you put on a brave face; trying not to wince too much at loud sounds and bright lights. Jenny becomes increasingly concerned through each lesson and tells you multiple times to go back to bed, that she would grab any work you miss. You decline each time; you could make it to lunch. You wouldn’t feel this bad by lunch.

Transfiguration, luckily, is a study lesson in preparation for your upcoming OWLs. You sigh in relief at the calming environment in the classroom but despite that, the pain doesn’t lessen. Instead it increases to a steady pulse that travels from the right side of your forehead to the centre. You fight the wave of dizziness washing over you, but you know one thing.

You aren’t going to make it to lunch.

The ringing in your ears is the first sign that you’re about to collapse; the black spots dancing across your vision is the second sign. You weakly raise your hand; an attempt to tell Professor McGonagall that you didn’t feel too good and could you please go see Madame Pomfrey.

All you hear before you collapse is Professor McGonagall’s shout.

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

Across the school, in a different study session, Harry grabs at his forehead hissing at the pain running through his head like a white-hot poker.

The pain had been there all day; making his mind fuzzy and distracting him from lessons and conversations but he was used to it. His scar always hurt but it was always manageable; always able to distract himself from its pain.

He knew what the pain meant; that the Dark Lord was trying to find him, trying to infiltrate his mind. It had never hurt this much though. He bites his lip as he thinks of his soulmate, distantly wondering what you would be feeling in this very moment.

The last thing he hears before he collapses are the shouts from Ron and Hermione.

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

You come too as Jenny lays you on the hospital bed. “Madame Pomfrey,” She calls, grabbing her attention, “(Y/N) collapsed in Transfiguration.”

Madame Pomfrey rushes over to your bed, checking your forehead for a temperature and shining her wand in your eyes. She tuts as you flinch away from the light. She dismisses Jenny before bustling to one of her cupboards for a pain potion for you, muttering something about this being her second case of students passing out today and she hoped it was her last. The last thing Madame Pomfrey wanted for mass fainting to spread through the school.

Hermione and Ron both watched you be carried in; not fully conscious but moaning in pain. Hermione’s eyes flicker between your bed and Harrys’ bed where you both holds hands to your forehead. Harry for his scar. You seemingly for a headache.

Hermione gasps as she makes the connection; they don’t call her the brightest witch of her age for nothing. She runs her eyes over Harry, checking over him and deciding that he’s well enough with Ron for her to step away for a minute.

She walks over to your bed, asking quietly, “Where exactly is your pain, (Y/N)?”

You point to the right side of your forehead; right where Harry’s scar placement is. “Ron,” Hermione calls, voice wavering somewhat, “I need to talk to you for a minute.”

Ron frowns, not wanting to leave Harry in this much pain but something in Hermione’s face has him going to her side without much of a second thought. They talk in whispers; Hermione gestures between the beds, Ron’s face turns incredulous as he looks you over – at the hand held to your forehead as if the pressure will stop the pain.

It clicks with you a moment later. Their expressions; the placement of your pain.

It was him.

He was your soulmate.

Harry Potter was your soulmate.

You pull yourself into sitting position, ignoring the wave of dizziness and nausea washing over you. Throwing your legs over the side of the hospital bed, you grit your teeth as you push yourself, so you’re stood up.

Ron comes to your side, asking if you need any help. You manage a small nod before gripping his arm for dear life. Ron leads you to Harry’s bed where he’s almost whimpering with the pain in his head.

Your heart breaks slightly at the sight of him tensed up, eyes screwed up in pain.

You flex your fingers before gently placing them on Harry’s head.

You sag at the immediate relief from the pain in your head, propping yourself up against Harry’s bed. His body relaxes into the bed, his breathing becoming more even.

“You’re-” Harry starts, blinking rapidly, swallowing, “You’re my soulmate.”

You smile down at him, enjoying the lack of pain for the moment, “I guess I am.”

Harry hums, “You’re hand feels nice.”

“I’m glad it does,” You drawl, “It’s nice not to be in pain.”

Harry frowns, sorrow reflected in his eyes, “I’m sorry about that. It’s my scar.”

“I know,” You say softly, running your hand through his messy hair in comfort, “At least we know how to stop it now.”

Harry nods, “I wonder why it works though; I didn’t think anything worked on curse scars.”

You frown, thinking back to your lesson on curses and their scars in Defence Against the Dark Arts, “Neither did I actually.”

“I have a theory,” Hermione pipes from her spot at the bottom of the bed where she’s watching the scene unfold in front of her, “Your scar comes from a place of hate. He isn’t able to feel love. The magic of the soulmate bond is larger than the dark magic that made your scar.”

“That makes a lot of sense.” You state, smiling at the brunette, “Thank you, Hermione.”

She shrugs, “It’ll be nice to have another girl in the group. As much as I like Quidditch, there’s only so much of it I can take.”

You smile at her, “I look forward to it.”

Hermione nods, turning to Ron whispering that they should leave now to let Harry and his soulmate have some peace. Harry’s in safe hands now. They both smile at you as they leave the hospital wing; happy that Harry’s found his soulmate.

Your attention falls back to Harry as he shuffles along the bed, making room for you. “If you think you’re going far, think again.”

You laugh softly, hopping onto the bed next to him, moving your hand from his forehead to hold his hand in yours. “How’s the pain now?” You quietly ask him.

Harry hums, knocking his foot against yours, “A lot better now. How’s yours?”

“Good. I’m feeling a lot better too.” You reply, knocking his foot with yours in retaliation.

You’re both quiet for a moment; enjoying the new painless existence. You bite your lip in response to the feeling of elation growing inside you; you had a soulmate and it was Harry Potter. You remember the promise you made to yourself when you first started to feel his pain over a year ago: you were going to try your very best that he would never feel this pain again, and if he did, you would always be there to lessen it.

Harry’s thumb rubs comforting circles over the back of your hand. You hum at the feeling of it; not knowing something could feel so good.

“I’m sorry,” He whispers, repeating his words from earlier, as if one apology was not nearly enough.

“What for?” You ask, puzzled.

“All the pain. I knew my soulmate would have to deal with a lot, so I want to apologise.”

You grip his hand tighter as if trying to covey your emotions through your touch, “It’s okay. At least we know we can stop the pain now.”

Harry smiles, “I don’t think I’ll be letting you out my sight now that I know who you are and that we don’t need to be in pain.”

You shuffle closer to him, if that’s at all possible on the small hospital bed. “I like the sound of that.” You murmur, “I don’t think I’ll be letting you out of my sight either; you have a knack for landing yourself in trouble.”

He laughs, “You’re right, I do.” He pauses, “I know that we’re soulmates, but I’d like to do this properly. Would you like to go to Hogsmeade with me this weekend?” He asks, a light blush dusting his cheeks.

“I’d love to.” You answer; savouring the smile that breaks across his face.

You let your head fall to his shoulder, shuffling into a comfier position. Harry becomes slightly brazen as he kisses the side of your head before putting his head on top of yours. For now, it was pure bliss to enjoy a painless moment.

The power of a simple touch could heal so much.

*************

General (HP) taglist: @the-hufflefluffwriter​ @obsessedwithrandomthings​ @kalimagik​ @summer-writes​ @lupins-sweater​ @slytherinprincess03​ @mischiefsemimanaged​ @soleil-amaryllis​ @masterofthedarkness​ @bforbroadway​ @chaotic-fae-queen​ @peachesandpinks​ @nebulablakemurphy​ @haphazardhufflepuff​ @siriusly-addicted-to-writing​ @firewhisky-kisses​ @deafgirltingz​ @kylosleftbuttcheek​ @heloisedaphnebrightmore​ @harrypotter289​ @sprvpti​ @accio-rogers​ @potterverseimagine​ @figlia--della--luna​ @angelinathebook​ @dreamer821​

[blossom-hwa]

Kingdom |Prologue: Catching Fire|

And so we begin :) please don’t forget to reblog and leave a comment if you enjoyed!

Pairing: Juyeon x gender neutral!reader

Genre: fluff, angst, fantasy, royalty!au

Triggers: death, semi-graphic depictions of blood

Word Count: 1.8k

A spark of betrayal lights the flame of a war. 

Tag list [ dm or send an ask to be added! ]: @itsapapisongo​ @dearseungie​ @chrisbahng​ @reverienostalgia​ @wingkkun​ @juyeo-on​

TBZ Masterlist | Kingdom

Changmin can’t breathe. He can’t see, can’t hear, can’t even think over the pounding of his own heart as he strains helplessly against the chains that bind his arms. They dig into the stinging cuts on his skin, iron burning the magic that seeps from his blood.

How could everything have come to this, just days before Juyeon’s coronation, the coronation that was supposed to bring his kingdom to peace?

He struggles in his bonds, chains that bind the remaining magic in his veins, erasing the humming thrum that usually bubbles below his skin. It leaves him cold, empty, helpless as he strains against harsh metal imbued with spells he knows but can’t break.

His magic is gone.

Gone.

And the simmer in his blood isn’t the only thing that’s gone silent.

Bom steps around his kneeling body, her footsteps the only sound in the still air. Changmin raises his head to meet her solemn eyes, gazing down at him with a stony pity flashing in the darkness.

Changmin never liked Bom, never got over the crawling of his skin whenever she brushed by a little too close. She always seemed too cold, too uptight, and several times, he wondered how she was even ordained as a mage. Even now as he stares, refusing to back down even when he knows he can’t escape, his mouth twists into an expression of the faintest disgust, disgust for her single-mindedness that has plagued him, the Board’s gray mage, for the past five years.

“Why?” he finally asks, voice hoarse with remnants of shouts, cries of surprise and betrayal as he tried to fend away the mage standing before him. “Why would you do this?”

She’s opening her mouth, probably about to give some pithy reply to make his blood boil, but the shrine door opens with a crash and a bang before she can start. Another mage walks out, ivory robes stained with red.

High Mage Jung Sungkyu of the Ivory Kingdom. Changmin’s former mentor and a father figure.

Covered in blood.

Changmin blinks once. Twice. 

The red doesn’t disappear.

So none of this is a hallucination, a nightmare he’ll soon wake up from.

Yes, this is the mage from whom he learned, the mage who bound him and his queen together in their promise, the mage whom he looked up to for so long. That kind, powerful mage is the same, the very same as the one walking toward him with bloodstained robes and an expression of pain on his face.

Blood stains.

Changmin doesn’t even want to think about what that means for those who didn’t manage to escape the shrine, for the guards who defended him, for the queen who told him to flee, the queen he left behind.

Oh, my queen…

A mask falls over Changmin’s features, and he stops struggling against the chains now cutting into his skin. His eyes bore into those of the mage walking forward, piercing holes into his skin until the man can’t even hold his gaze anymore and drops his head instead.

“You thought you could escape and warn your friends, didn’t you?” Bom asks, eyes impassive. Her lips curve slightly, coldly, blade-like under the crescent moon. Iron. “Don’t worry, young gray mage. We’ll pass on the message soon enough. We’re just not ready, not quite yet.”

We’re not ready.

We…

“We” doesn’t only include Bom and the high mage. This is something bigger.

We.

Changmin swallows, trying not to go dizzy from the realization. With every word that falls from his lips, he only becomes more certain that he’s right.

“You’re working with the princess.”

Pawns and kings, how can he warn Juyeon and his sister when he’s miles away, stuck in magic-binding chains, and, judging from the knife at Bom’s waist, about to die?

Stall. Stall, keep stalling. “How could you betray the orders like this?” he asks, desperation dripping from his lips. “You swore loyalty to the Board above all, not to your kingdom – why would you do this?”

“I believe the Board’s balance lies in supporting the ivory queen,” Bom says, a faint but manic glint of excitement entering her eyes. It makes Changmin’s skin crawl. “I am sworn to protect the balance, no? This is what I believe is best.”

“The princess is not the queen,” Changmin snaps, brain still running. How can he do anything without his magic? “She has no title other than that of a royal pawn.”

“Oh, she’ll be queen, soon enough.” Bom smiles, a curve of the lips that feels more like a knife blade than a grin.

What does that –

Oh.

Oh, no.

No.

His queen…

His queen must be dead.

Changmin’s head snaps upward, the gold insignia around his neck thumping painfully against his chest. Desperately, he looks at his old mentor.

He wouldn’t have killed his queen, would he? Might have subdued, might have knocked them out, but – he couldn’t have killed –

The mage refuses to meet his eyes.

Red clouds Changmin’s vision, mixes with the black of night and the cold light of the moon overhead. A scream builds in his chest that fights to leaves his lips as his head drops once more.

Lost in pain, barely able to breathe, he almost doesn’t feel the gold at his chest, the carved queen and king that always rest at the base of his throat. As he breathes, though, clearing his mind, the insignia dragging his neck to the ground catches his attention.

It’s charmed as it always has been, never to leave his side until death. The gold symbol, a queen and king standing next to each other on a miniature chessboard, is a gift passed down from one gray mage to another, one of only three keys that exist to unlock a kingdom’s crown jewels. It hasn’t left his neck since the day it was given to him by his predecessor when he was ordained at fifteen, one of the youngest to take on the mantle of gray mage.

They will take it when he dies. Undoubtedly they will – it holds magic, magic they will need for whatever it is they’re planning. At the very least, they wouldn’t leave such a powerful relic to be burned with his body.

So what are they planning?

“What do you plan to do, when your princess is a queen?” Changmin tries to make his voice sound as disbelieving as possible, hopes they can’t hear the shaking in his words. He’s rewarded with a twitch of Bom’s eye. “Surely you don’t think the ivory citizens will accept her, not when their current rulers are so loved?”

“That won’t matter.” Bom’s grin makes her look ghoulish under the moonlight. “Not when the entire Board is under our control.”

Changmin’s heart almost stops. Never, not once in the history of the Board, not even when the high orders had to intervene and send down the current laws of the land, has one kingdom attempted to completely take over the other. There have been revenge plots and assassination plans, even one notable attempt by the former ruby bloodline to murder the onyx royals, but nothing… nothing of this scale.

He needs to warn Juyeon.

“An ambitious plot,” he chokes out, all of his former nonchalance gone. The insignia quivers at his throat, a reminder of what will be lost if the ivory princess succeeds. “I suppose you’ll be going to the Onyx Kingdom next.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Bom dismisses him with a flick of her hand, ready to unsheathe her knife. “You’ll be dead then, anyway.”

But Changmin doesn’t hear her. He focuses on the knowledge that they’ll be going to the Onyx Kingdom, that they’ll probably take his insignia with them.

A plan springs into his mind, fully-formed and wholly impossible. Impossible because he needs magic, magic that’s been stolen from him by the chains that bind his wrists.

Wait.

He closes his eyes, blocks out the sound of Bom’s droning voice and the cold twinkling of stars overhead.

And focuses on the faintest thrumming of magic beneath his skin.

His magic isn’t gone. It’s subdued, yes, but it isn’t gone. There’s some left, simmering in his blood, and if he concentrates it, it will be just enough for…

A smirk threatens to form on Changmin’s lips as he strains, invisibly, against the chains. Magic coalesces under his control, forming a small but warm stream as it travels through his blood, coming to a stop at his chest, just beneath the insignia resting against his skin.

Find Juyeon.

“I see,” Changmin says blandly, not having heard a single word of what Bom just said. “Interesting.”

Find Juyeon.

An eyebrow raises. “Interesting, that I’m about to kill you?”

Changmin blinks. “Hasn’t it been obvious from the start?”

Find Juyeon.

The magic in his chest grows warmer, brighter, as Bom’s face twists into an embarrassed scowl. “Any last words, then?” she snaps.

The bland look stays on Changmin’s face, even though the bejeweled knife in Bom’s hands sends shivers up his spine. “No, not to you.”

Find Juyeon.

The insignia sears against his chest with heat. His skin must be burning – he can’t smell cooking flesh just yet, though it’s probably only a matter of time – but he grits his teeth and bears it. It means it’s working. 

It means it’s working.

Silver flashes down, the knife arcing towards his neck. Changmin shuts his eyes, prays, thinks those two words over and over again, find Juyeon –

“Wait.”

The blade stops at his word. He blinks his eyes open, looking up not at Bom, but at the High Mage who’s frozen to the spot. It’s one question, a question whose answer has only been implied, an answer that he needs to know. “Is my queen alive?”

Silence follows his question, which only confirms what he knew but dreaded. And even though it feels like his heart is tearing apart, even though tears are beginning to in his eyes for the second time tonight, Changmin musters the strength to use that brief silence to speak those two words once more.

Find Juyeon.

“I see,” he finally says, staring fully at the old mage. High Mage Jung, his former mentor, one of the most powerful high mages, looks smaller than Changmin has ever believed him to be – small, weak, helpless as he gazes helplessly at the ground, robes stained with blood. “Well, you may proceed.”

“It’s not a question of whether you’ll permit it,” Bom snarls, bringing his attention back to her. “You’re at our mercy now.”

Find Juyeon.

This time, as the insignia sears its mark into his flesh, Changmin allows a smirk to spread across his face. “I suppose that’s what you might like to think.”

Bom’s snarl only grows harsher in the moonlight, but unlike before, Changmin doesn’t feel fear at the ghoulish twist of her lips. Instead, he takes a last comfort in the harsh burn of the insignia resting against his skin as the knife comes slicing down.

My queen, I’ll see you again, soon.

If you enjoyed, please don’t forget to reblog and leave a comment to tell me what you thought! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day <3

(1 reblog = 1 prayer for changmin and me please don’t kill me)

[megs-mostly-past-random-fandoms]

Magic (Part 2 of “A Dream”)

Here’s the requested part 2 of “A Dream”! *Familiar characters are not mine! Also, the end monologue is taken directly from the movie. Not mine!*

Fandom: Labyrinth

Warnings: Angst-ish. Fluff! Jareth is a happy Jareth. 

Pairings/Characters: Jareth the Goblin King x reader

The castle loomed ever closer as you fought your way through the Goblin City. It had taken a while, but your memory was no longer fuzzy. You remembered why you were in the Labyrinth in the first place. The guilt ate away at you the closer you got to Jareth's castle. All your stress had compiled into one regretful sentence toward your sibling's child.

         "I wish the Goblin King would take you away right now." The wish from the book you'd been reading since you were a child had passed your lips without a second thought. Now, here you were, fighting to save that child while your mind fought against your heart.

         The dream in the ballroom kept coming back to you and how you felt when Jareth had kissed you. You should hate him. While he had granted your "wish", he'd also made you run his labyrinth to correct the mistake you'd made. You really should hate him, but you couldn't. There was something about the kiss you'd shared and the way he'd looked at you when you'd whispered his name. When he looked at you like that, you knew he wasn't evil. He was…lonely.

         That thought screamed in your mind when you entered the castle. You suppressed a shudder. It was far too quiet for such a large place. Where was everyone? You rolled your eyes at the thought. Jareth had a flair for the dramatic so he was probably off hiding somewhere until he was ready to make some form of grand entrance.

         Your footsteps echoed in the empty corridors while you searched for Jareth and your sibling's child. You opened a door and were greeted with a never-ending staircase. "Are you kidding me?" you mumbled. As you moved to close the door, you heard the baby fuss a bit. You looked above you and nearly screamed in frustration. One last test.

         You climbed staircase after staircase only for the baby to move whenever you grew near. You wanted to cry. You took a moment to sink to the floor to breathe. "Surely you aren't giving up, precious thing," Jareth's voice made your head pop up. He was staring at you intently.

         "No. I can't give up. I need to save the baby." You glanced around to find the child in question below you. It was a long drop and you hated falling. But you knew it was the only way. "You don't have to. I would not harm the child. Give in, Y/N." You glanced between Jareth and the child. "I-I can't."  You went to place your hand on Jareth's cheek, but thought better of it. You turned and jumped down to the baby, but you hit solid floor instead.

         You let out a howl of irritation. "JARETH!" you cried before you tore off in another direction to find the Goblin King. You were beyond done. You were tired of the tests. Tired of your emotions battling each other. Tired of fighting a fight that your head couldn't win. You wanted the baby, but at the same time, you knew what it would mean. It would mean you would have to leave Jareth behind.

         You made your way to the ramparts of the castle with your heart beating faster than ever. This was it.  You just knew. You felt a presence to your left and turned to see Jareth. Once again, he was studying you to see what you would do. "I beat your labyrinth, Jareth…where is the child?"

         "Safe. I have come to offer you one last chance. One chance to make your dreams come true. I have given you everything you've asked for and yet you continue to fight against me. It's time to stop fighting. I know you felt the same thing I did in the ballroom."

         "It-It wasn't a dream?" you asked softly and he chuckled. "I told you it was only a dream if you wished it." He took a step closer to you. You couldn't have that. Whenever he was near you, you couldn't think clearly. You took a step back. "Jareth, please. Give me the baby. Don't make me say it…" He frowned and took another step toward you. With a shaky breath, you began the saying the words you had long since memorized.

         "Give me the child. Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered, I have fought my way here to the castle beyond the Goblin City," you paused for a moment as tears began to cloud your vision. Jareth looked so broken and betrayed. "T-To take back the child that you have stolen. For my will is strong as yours and m-my kingdom as great."

         "Stop," Jareth was practically begging. He stepped closer and took your hand in his. He was real. Not a dream. Not an illusion. He was there. "I can offer you so much more than your existence Aboveground. Just love me." You closed your eyes and let a tear fall. "You have n-no-" you cut off.

         "I can't. I can't say it," you whispered. You let your eyes open and meet Jareth's. "Send the baby home. Let them forget this ever happened. Please. Send them home."

         "And you? You would leave me to wither?" You sighed then laughed softly. "Did you not hear me? I asked you to send the baby home. I never said me. I can't explain it, but there's something drawing me to you. I don't know if it's magic o-or something deeper. But I can't leave. I don't want to. I want to stay. I…I want to love you, Jareth."

         You closed the distance between you, reaching out to cup his cheek with your free hand. Jareth's free arm slowly moved to your waist, the way it had been when you were dancing in the ballroom.  His eyes bore into yours, making you grateful he was holding you up as your knees began to shake. Was this what having and finding a soulmate felt like? Because that's what you felt this was. If soulmates existed, you explicably knew that Jareth was yours.

         For a moment, you couldn't move. An invisible force held you in place, bonding you and Jareth in a staring contest neither of you could win. "Is this your magic?" Jareth smiled and shook his head slightly. "No, precious Y/N. It is yours. You have bewitched me when I believed no one could." He rested his forehead against yours for a second before you finally could take it no longer. You shifted your head and pressed your lips against his. Oh yes, this was definitely magic and you hoped you would never stop feeling it.  

(a/n: I hope you like it!)

Tagging people who showed interest: @thegirlwhowouldbeking @beeblisss​

[trashmenofmarvel]

Branded - Chapter 54

Pairing: Demon!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: The Ancient One explains some truths.

(This is a fan AU of Falling’s Just Another Way to Fly by araniaart​ . Please check out this incredible series for all of your demon Bucky needs.)

AO3

She didn’t look how you remembered her.

Instead of flowing robes and a bald head, she was wearing a khaki uniform that said Magical Pest Removal on the lapel, and what looked like a cheap, bob-cut blond wig on her head.

Despite the bad disguise, you would recognize the Ancient One anywhere.

“Your mother told me I could find you out here,” the sorcerer said, her accent the same posh one you remember, making her mundane outfit seem even more bizarre. “She also said she was unhappy that you tried to burn the termites in your closet.”

Your closet? Termites?

A burnt circle…

You knew exactly what this was.

“You mean the demon portal I opened?”

The Ancient One opened her mouth, stared at you a moment, and then closed it. You wondered if anyone had left the ancient sorcerer speechless before.

“Yeah, I know what I did,” you continued on in a rush. “I mean, I don’t remember it, but I know I opened a portal and you and the other sorcerers are here to investigate it, and—“

She raised a hand, and you fell immediately silent.

“Have we met before?”

The question hit you like déjà vu, and why wouldn’t it, when it was so similar to the conversation on the Sanctum rooftop?

“Yes,” you began slowly. It was still bizarre to hear your voice as a child. You’d forgotten what it sounded like. Or what it was like to be without your horns and tail. Every time you tried to move your non-existent tail, you experienced a slight feeling of unsteadiness. “Or… I’ve met you before. This is the first time you’ve met me. I think.”

“Ah,” she said, as if that had made any sort of sense. “I see.”

“Really?”

Her lips spread into a reserved but warm smile.

“No. But in these types of situations, it tends to be wiser to pretend you know more than you truly do.”

She gestured to the swing set.

“May we sit?”

“Uh, sure.”

Even without her robes, her gestures were as measured and graceful as you remembered. She sat on the swing Bucky had used in what seemed like a lifetime ago, but truly hadn’t happened yet. It hurt your head to think about as you sat on your own swing. Even that felt real beneath you. Was this truly a memory?

“Thank you.” She smoothed out the wrinkles on her cargo pants. “These bones aren’t as young as they used to be. And your bones are younger than you expected.”

You gaped up at her. For someone who said she didn’t know very much, she knew an awful lot.

“Then, you know I don’t belong here? That I’m in the wrong place? Am I trapped? Is this a memory or-or am I stuck in another time-loop?”

Your lip trembled as your eyes burned. You’d forgotten how quick you were to cry as a kid. This was more embarrassing than being trapped in a time-loop, that was for sure.

If she was surprised at the mention of time-loops, the Ancient One didn’t show it. Instead, her eyes were warm but pitying.

“You are so young, yet you’ve been through much. And you will endure more before the end, I fear. That is the path of all those who wield the name.”

“Name?” You rubbed your forehead, the headache worsening there. “What name?”

“The Ancient One.”

You dropped your hand and looked up at her. Stared, really. Why was she making even less sense than the first time around?

“It is a title that only one sorcerer can hold. They reign above the Sorcerer Supreme, and it is they who bear the greatest burden of our order.” She lowered her gaze, meeting you unflinchingly. “I sense that you will hold that title when I am gone.”

“I… what?” You shook your head. “No, I don’t—no. That’s not why I’m here. I—“

“Then why are you here?” Her expression hadn’t changed at all, and it was terrifyingly piercing. “What were you doing just before you subverted the laws of time to arrive here, in your past?”

Your mouth hung open. How could you possibly explain the ritual, the experimental demon bond, Bucky—

Bucky.

“You-you have to help someone,” you blurted out, nearly falling from your swing in your panic. “A demon. Or, he was a man, but HYDRA changed him, turned him into—You have to help Bucky Barnes. James Buchanan Barnes.”

The name on your tongue sent a curl of pain through your ribcage.  Was Bucky all right? Was he still where you left him, writhing on that table?

How had everything gone so wrong?

You looked down at your shoes. Faded pink things that were long worn by dirt and wear. Little white unicorns prancing along the sides. You’d forgotten how much you loved them, but not even they could distract you as despair coiled in your chest.

“He came through the portal I created.” You closed your eyes, the words burdened far more than they should coming from a ten year old. “If it’s only the day after, he should be in Boston still. You’ll catch him, lure him into a trap, and—Please, please help him.”

“I will help him, because it has already happened.” Her expression was fond, if a little exasperated. “And did no one tell you that no one should know too much about their own future?”

You looked away, your cheeks heating easily, as they always did when you were a kid.

“Yeah. You did, actually.”

“Well, I do give very good advice.”

The humor in her words wasn’t enough to remove the pit from your stomach.

“About... about what I was doing before. Before I arrived here. I was…” You curled your small fists as you stared resolutely at the leaf-strewn ground. “I… I don’t know how to explain it without telling you everything, but you did tell me something. The last time we spoke, or, I guess for you we haven’t spoken yet.”

You shook your head. Time stuff was so confusing.

“Yes?”

“You said… You told me that I would have to make a choice.” You closed your eyes. “That when the obvious choice is wrong, I would have to make a different one. And to trust myself, because I would make the right choice, even when others didn’t believe me. That was… the gist of it anyway.”

“I see,” she said in that cryptic way of hers. “And did you? Make the right choice?”

“I don’t know.”

You opened your eyes again, hoping against hope you would be back at the Sanctum, like this was all a bad dream. Instead, you were still in your backyard, somehow talking to the most powerful sorcerer alive. Or, who had been alive in 1995, anyway.

“All I know is, I want to get back home. To my time, so I can make sure…”

“You care for him, don’t you?”

Her eyes were warm again when you met them. There was no judgement there, no surprise, just a quiet kind of understanding you couldn’t begin to fathom.

“Yes,” you said, your voice small. “I do. I need to get back to him.”

“There are many reasons you need to return to your present consciousness,” she said, as if that somehow made sense. “One of which is that you will soon need to take up the mantle you were meant to bear.”

She rose to her feet and you quickly followed suit,

“Listen. I don’t know why you think I’m the one who—“

“It is not what I think. You simply are. Your aptitude toward creating cross-dimensional rifts is a good indicator that you are no simple child. Nor will you become a mere sorcerer. You haven’t found your relic yet, have you?”

As was so often the case, the Ancient One’s line of thinking threw you into confused stuttering. How had she known? That no matter how many relics Wong showed you, none of them were activated by your presence?

“I… I don’t… No, I haven’t.”

She slightly bent down, lowering her voice as if sharing a secret.

“When you return, go to my office. You’ll find what you need.”

You’d barely digested the words when she pulled back, an amused glint in her eye that quickly faded.

“Before I help encourage you to return to your time, I fear there is something I must explain.”

The gravity in her words were heavy, and you shifted uncomfortably. You almost preferred a cryptic message the last time she sent you on your way, but you had a feeling you wouldn’t be spared now.

“The mantle of the Ancient One is a heavy burden to bear. If I tell the others of my order what I have discovered, if I tell them what you are… your childhood will be forfeit. All you will know is this life, and it will be many years before you’re even allowed outside the walls of our sanctums.”

Her expression lightened, but the aged lines of her face were still deep with the weight of her words.

“I sense you have not lived a life like that, which can only mean I did not tell them of your budding powers. But leaving you here, as you are, unguarded and unprotected would be negligent.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but she pressed on before you could.

“If your powers continue to manifest, it will be only a matter of time until you attract those who would wish to use your power for their own. So until such a time as you can sufficiently fend for yourself, your power will be locked away. And a guardian will look after you.”

A guardian? Did she mean…

The Ancient One finally smiled.

“I believe you know him already, though I have yet to meet him. I look forward to it, very soon.”

The Ancient One had known about Bucky looking after you all along. Surely she would someday know about the bond as well. And yet… she had still trusted him, anyway.

Tears blurred your vision again as you gave a shaky smile. Knowing that Bucky would be safe, that he would have someone to help him heal and learn how to be a person again, was more of a relief than you could say. You owed her more than you’d ever realized. And if the Ancient One insisted this was the path you were meant to take, then you could let go of your fears and trust her too.

She clasped her hands together, startling you.

“Now, it’s time to send you home. And to lock away those powers until you’re ready to use them.”

You expected her to do what she did last time, place her thumb on your forehead and jolt you back to the present, but instead she drew concentric, fiery circles in the air between you.

Panic crawled up your throat.

“Wait!” you cried. “Will we meet again?”

Her small smile, much like herself, held an edge of delight and mysterious.

“Perhaps. Time will tell, won’t it?”

The concentric circles folded together, creating a sort of echoing tunnel that went deeper and deeper, until you were falling through it, panicked and alone and in the dark.

You hit the ground and jolted upright, gasping in panicked breathes as your hands clung to something soft.

Plush covers. On a bed. You were back in your room in the sanctum, still wearing the silver ornate robes. You shoved up the right sleeve and stared at the thick bandage wrapped around your shoulder.

So, it had been real. You were back, and the ritual…

Oh, God. Bucky.

Next Chapter

[galactic-magick]

Careful Not to Lose Her: Agnes x Reader

Request: Is it okay for me to request an Agnes x Female reader fic imagine where reader meets her for the first time and calls her beautiful? Like she just randomly compliments Agnes and Agnes is surprised by that and gets shy but returns it? And maybe the two start flirting with one another all the time and maybe reader stops for a bit as she spends more time with Wanda (helping her with the kids) and Agnes feels jealous and stops talking and reader is all confused and confronts her and Agnes admits her feelings for her are true? 😊 I'm happy ppl r writing for her lmao I love her! And maybe they share a kiss 👀 (sorry this was a long request hah)

Summary: You and Anges become very close, but when you have to help Wanda with the kids more often it strains your relationship.

Words:  1300+

Warnings: light angst

Author’s Notes: I wrote this imagining it happening in the 80s/early 90s era, but you can probably picture it whenever you want.

-

-

-

You hear the doorbell ring, and Wanda gets up and smiles, “Oh that’s probably just Agnes, I’ll introduce you,”

You nod, pushing yourself off the couch as well. You haven’t met many people in town yet besides Wanda and her family, so you’re interested to meet some more hopefully friendly faces.

“Hiya neighbor!” Agnes waltzes in. “Who’s your new friend?”

“Oh this is Y/N! She just moved in across the street,” Wanda says. “Y/N, this is Agnes,”

“Hey!” you shake her hand. “Wow, you’re beautiful,”

Her mouth falls open a bit, and her hand freezes in yours, “Well I…gosh you’re too kind,” after taking a moment to process what you just said, she bursts out laughing, “Not too bad yourself, hun,”

You grin, following Wanda back to the couches to chat some more. She and Agnes tell you everything you need to know about the town, who to befriend, who to avoid, and where to spend your time. Wanda introduces you to her twin boys and her husband when he gets home from work, who eyes you a bit suspiciously. Wanda assures you he just has a cautious personality towards new people, so you try to shrug it off and not take it too personally.

“Well, I think I’m gonna head out, maybe stop by the gym for a bit,” Agnes announces, heading towards the door. “Would you like to come, Y/N?”

“Oh! I mean, sure! But I didn’t bring any workout clothes…”

As if out of thin air, Wanda hands you a set, in your exact size and favorite colors.

“How did you-“

Vision sets a hand on her shoulder, “Darling I thought we talked about not using your pow-“

“Eeeeer you go! Have fun you two!” Wanda smiles, pushing you and Agnes out the door.

You look at Agnes as the door slams behind you, “Did I miss something?”

“Oh no, those two have always been weird,” she shrugs. “I’ve stopped asking questions,”

“Huh…”

“Anyway, let’s go! Don’t wanna miss the evening cardio dance class!” she takes your hand and leads you into the town square.

Once you arrive and change into your clothes, you meet Agnes in the corner of the gym, “Agnes I’ve never done one of these before, I have no idea what I’m supposed to do-“

“Oh, relax. No one does. It’s just for fun!” she playfully pokes your arm, “I only started coming because my ex-husband Ralph told me I should find somewhere to get all my excess energy out, but now I do it to have a good time,”

You nod as you hear the teacher of the class crank up the music and lead everyone in some warm-ups.

Surprisingly it’s just as Agnes said, and you end up having more fun than you’ve had in a while. You just move and dance around with her, singing loud and off key to the tunes, and laughing so hard that you’re afraid you’ll disrupt everyone enough to get kicked out.

Thankfully you don’t get kicked out though, and you leave the gym still laughing and very sweaty.

“Alright I’ll admit, that was pretty fun,” you agree. “We should hangout some more sometime!”

“Oh, yes please,” she chuckles. “I’m free anytime you need me to be,”

And just like that, you spent as much time with her as you possibly could. You went to classes with her every Tuesday, went on errands with her, and went out for dinner a few nights a week as well. You were inseparable, and it shocked you how it was so after so little time. You just bonded with her so well, and you feel like you can be yourself with her.

One day while you’re headed out to meet up with her, your phone rings.

“Hello?”

“Hey Y/N! It’s Wanda. So sorry to bother you, but would you be willing to babysit the boys tonight? I know it’s last minute, but something came up that I really need to take care of,”

“Is everything okay?”

“Oh yeah…everything’s fine, just, some things aren’t running as smoothly as usual, ya know…at work,”

“I didn’t know you had a job-“

“So will you be able to make it?”

“Yeah, I can be right over,”

You hang up the phone with a slight sense of unease. Something wasn’t right with Wanda, but you’re always open to helping a friend, so you try not to think on it too hard.

On your way over, you knock on Agnes’s door to tell her there was a change of plan. She’s disappointed, but she agrees to reschedule another time.

Unfortunately it’s not the only time this happens. Wanda starts asking for your help a little more often, and you have to cancel more meetups with Agnes. Sometimes Wanda sticks around and sometimes she’s gone, but either way you can tell why she needs so much help with the kids. They’re not awful by any means, but twins can be difficult for anyone, especially new parents.

Eventually you have to cancel so much that you just stop rescheduling, telling Agnes that you’ll just let her know when you’re free, but that time starts to exist less and less. Sometimes she’ll stop by the Vision household to say hello, but you’re not able to talk very much.

By the time Wanda lets you off the hook a bit and needs your help a little less, your friendship with Agnes is nearly gone. Whenever you see her in the grocery store or just around town, she avoids your gaze and turns the other way.

After a couple weeks of failing to get her attention, you’ve had enough. You aren’t going to let her get away that easily.

You knock on her door and ring the doorbell repeatedly until she finally caves and opens it, her face sadder than you’ve ever seen it.

“Why are you avoiding me?” you demand, harsher than you meant to.

“Well sorry I don’t want to hang out with someone who doesn’t have time for me anyway,” she scoffs.

“I do have time for you!”

“Oh really? Where was all that time for the past I don’t even know how long? Oh yeah, you spent it with Wanda instead,”

“I was helping her!”

“I’m not mad at you for helping her! But you couldn’t say you weren’t available at least sometimes?!”

“I was trying to be nice!”

“I’m sure you were,” she rolls her eyes. “But it wasn’t very nice to me,”

“Agnes, look, I’m sorry-“

“You know what? No. That’s not good enough,” she points a finger. “I like you, Y/N. I like you more than I’ve ever liked anyone. I thought we had something going, I thought we were special to each other. But I guess I wasn’t worth giving some effort back,” she starts to close the door, but you grab it first.

“Agnes, please,” you sigh, a tear falling from your eye. “I’m so sorry. I really am. What I did was wrong. I’ve always struggled with saying no to people who need help, but I know that isn’t an excuse to abandon anyone, and I won’t do it again. I like you too, and I’ll do everything I can to make this up to you,”

She looks at you a moment, taking in your words.

“I suppose I forgive you,” she finally says. You look up and smile. “And I suppose you can make it up to me by taking me on an official date,”

“Yes, yes, of course,” you nod vigorously, wrapping your arms around her in a tight hug. When you pull away slightly, you give her a quick kiss, barely a second, but enough to get a reaction. “Oh my gosh I’m so sorry, I should’ve asked first-“

Before you can finish apologizing for overstepping, she grabs you back and kisses you for real, hard and longer than you care to count.

[square-blunt]

Don't trust english boys with far too much free time (SPOLIERS FOR 3RD LIFE SMP)

its that time again, i wrote a fic run in here come get y'alls juice. 3rd life smp fic that i threw together rq. (HUGE SPOILERS) Basically, during Scott's 7th episode, I make everything worse than it was.

Tw- Death, major gore/blood mentions, suidical intentions, but it's only a few lines and it's nothing explicit, and overall hurt. Wc: 2994 AO3: here!

It had all happened so fast. The battle of- Scott couldn’t be bothered to remember what Grian had called it. Why should he? It was the battle where he lost everything. Fuck, it had all happened too fast. He and Grian were killed. Him by Ethos, Grian by Martyn, and then- and then Jimmy. Jimmy was shot by Skizz. Scott had respawned somewhere outside of the flower kingdom, running back to the desert as quickly as he could, but when Jimmy’s- when the message popped up- Scott stopped running. He could feel it, too, a ringing in his ears, a phantom pain in the right side of his head- he didn’t need the message to know that his husband was dead. He becomes lightheaded, vision blurring, and he stumbles into and leans on a tree for stability. He- he didn’t- he couldn’t- he shouldn’t have- just left Jimmy there- how could he have been so stupid? If he just hadn’t died- if he had just told Jimmy to stay home- if he had just told Grian and Scar to fuck off- he stumbles down the hill towards the desert. Why hadn’t the TNT gone off yet- Scar wasn’t dead why hasn’t he pulled the lever? As the desert comes into view, Scott sees that the lever had indeed been pulled. Dogwarts just got lucky. None of them died. He sees some of them still hanging around the bunker where Scar and- no, Jimmy- Jimmy- his husband was more resilient than that- he- Scott knew- Jimmy wasn’t dead he couldn’t be that wasn’t how this worked- no, no, no. No- no- it’s not- he’s not-

/msg SolidarityGaming: [This user doesn’t exist]

No- no, fuck-

“Jimmy?” Scott whispers to himself. He needs- he has to- Jimmy’s name- he needs to hear someone say it. If he has to say it himself then so fucking be it. “Jimmy- Jimmy, Jimmy I’m so sorry, Jimmy- please- I’m sorry please, Jimmy, please come back, Jimmy, I can’t-” he doesn’t want to alert the Dogwarts people- he has extra potions behind the desert house. He avoids any Dogwarts that stayed behind and snags his extra potions. He feels numb. He doesn’t know where Scar is, he doesn’t know where Grian is, he doesn’t know what’s gonna happen next but quite honestly he doesn’t care. He doesn’t want to go back to the bunker- but he doesn’t have a choice. He makes his way back over, and he hears Grian worrying over Scar inside,

“Grian?” Scott is surprised at how horse his voice is.

“Scott? Scott- what- it- what happened? ” Grian climbs out of a hole in the sand, dirty, bloody, and worried

“It all went- horribly, horribly wrong-” Scott pushes down the massive pit in his stomach, and tries to put some lightness in his voice.

“Oh- all is- all is lost- what happened? Did the explosion- the explosion- what-” Grian starts to sprint towards the massive crater in the desert- and Scott follows closely behind.

“The explosion went off but it didn’t kill any of them- Cleo was shot by Ren??” Scott sees the message pop up on his communicator- the pit in his stomach expanding as he tries not to look up at- or not to think about what Bdubs might be thinking. He ponders reaching out- but he doesn’t think he could handle that right now. He knows Grian is talking, probably going on, and on about the explosion, maybe wondering where Scar went- if he was anywhere he’d be in the bunker- where Jimmy…. Where Jimmy was supposed to be. The ringing in his ears grows louder.

“-all is lost.” Scott slowly regains his bearings and hears Grian fretting over… everything that’s just happened. “We must- Do- ugh- Is there any stuff here to get back? Are we completely dead?”

“Um, I have this, I- I’m- I was smart in my excess potions, I put away-” Scott says, opening his bag and handing a few to the other.

“As you can see I also had a backup room-” Scott does notice that Grian has iron armor, which was more than him at least.

“Yeah, I have a few more diamonds- oh-”

“Tango was shot by Ren- Tango is out-” Grian says, calling attention to yet another death message.

*

Scott responds, but he doesn’t know what he said, he doesn’t understand what Grian says next, because they’re standing at the doorway to the bunker. It wasn't the doorway Grain had built, just a hole in the wall. 2 blocks high, one block wide, beckoning for Scott to go in, to see what had happened. Scott knows his husband is on the other side of that wall.

"-Scott?" Scott snaps back to reality when Grian places a hand on his shoulder.

"I’m- I'm okay, really-" Scott rushes, feeling a familiar sting in his eyes. Do not cry do not cry do not cry-

"Do you want me to go in with you?" Grian says, as soft as can be. Fuck, he hates that. He's supposed to be this battle-hardened warrior- do not cry do not cry- Grian wasn't supposed to remind him of how vulnerable he is. Grian wasn't supposed to see how vulnerable he could get.

Scott shakes his head, putting on a smile, do not cry, "What do you mean? I'm just gonna go see if there's anything we can salvage-" his voice shakes, but he hopes Grian doesn't notice.

Grian notices

"Scott, I'll be waiting out here." Grian gives Scott a friendly smile, "Here." Grian offers him a water bottle and a washcloth. Scott chokes back a sob and takes it, his smile wavering. He nods, not trusting himself to speak. Grian walks a few paces away, out of soft speaking distance, and Scott turns back to the gap. He takes a deep, shuddering breath. Fuck, he doesn't want to do this. He wants to turn around, run back to his kingdom, lock himself inside his house and pretend that all of this never happened. That Jimmy- that Jimmy was still across the pond, making a fuss over the cows and the chickens, asking him to mine, and then mining for hours and finding nothing but companionship. Scott wasn't ready to face the truth. Scott wasn't ready to face his last two lives without him- Scott wasn't ready to face anything without him. He takes another breath, and steps in. He looks down at his feet- that was a mistake.

There's so much blood.

It's everywhere he looks.

Everywhere he looks is just… red.

Fuck, there's so much blood.

It's smeared on the floor, a sign of struggle? There are footprints. Maybe- no, the footprints lead out the door- they're Scars. Any hope Scott had left leaves his body in a sob. He covers his mouth and backs up against the wall, squeezing his eyes shut.

He knows what's in this room.

He knows.

He doesn't want to accept it but he knows.

He opens his eyes, and it's like a stab to the gut.

He can't look further than Jimmy's hand.

That hand that Scott took as he pulled him out of a hole the first day, the hand that Scott shook to promise friendship, the- the hand that Scott held, last night, under the stars, listening to an owl far in the distance, trying not to fall asleep, confessing to each other that they might be more than friends. The hand that quickly fashioned a makeshift ring out of a red tulip stem. The hand that couldn't build for shit, but somehow built the most important thing to Scott- a bond. The hand that laid limp, lifeless, grey, covered in its own blood.

Scott wishes it were him.

Scott wishes that he was the one whose blood was all over the floor, the walls, the ceiling.

Scott was tough, blunt, sarcastic but Jimmy was bright and happy and his smile lit up the entire world- he was Scott's entire world- fuck, why'd it have to be Jimmy? Jimmy was so… unapologetically loving. Scott loved few and far between. Jimmy was carefree. Scott was a pushover. Jimmy couldn't give two shits about what other people thought of him. Scott was meticulous and worried over the slightest details. Jimmy was willing to hear everyone out, to give people second chances. Scott was toxic and everyone knew it. Jimmy was loved by everyone. Scott was loved by Jimmy. Why did it have to be Jimmy?

Scott's stomach is turning itself inside out, his head is spinning, his lungs won't take in enough air, he sobs again. He falls to his knees. He can taste the salt and iron that hangs in the air, its sting seeping into his skin. His hands are stained with blood- with Jimmy's blood- he crawls over to Jimmy. Grasping his hand- somehow it's colder than Scott remembers. Jimmy's hand was already cold due to him being a red-life but now it's so cold that Scott can barely take it. He sobs again, but this time he can't stop. The sobs won't stop, the tears won't stop, the pain won't stop- as they roll off Scott's cheeks and fall to the floor, to his hand, to Jimmy's hand- they fall and clear circular patches of blood away. It reminds Scott that the blood hasn't had time to dry yet.

Scott sobs harder.

Scott makes the mistake of looking up.

Jimmy really does look like he's sleeping.

His eyes are closed, his lips, soft and slightly parted.

He'd look so peaceful.

If it weren't for the arrow in the side of his head, and the gashes in his chest.

Those fucking- they raided the bunker and made sure- that's where all the blood came from- they fucking- Scott moved to cradle Jimmy's head in his lap, wiping away the blood on Jimmy's face. Scott wants to believe he's sleeping. Jimmy just… fell asleep in his arms. They were up on a ridge top somewhere, and Jimmy just fell asleep. He can almost feel the landscape around him, the cool breeze… he can hear Jimmy's laughter and indignant protests over the simplest things, he can't feel a phantom hand cupping his cheek. He can hear Jimmy say 'I love you'.

Scott screams.

Scott screams until his voice feels torn to shreds.

In honor of a voice he'd never hear again.

He screams as many 'No's and utter denials and one can muster, he screams at those- those bastards that took Jimmy from him, he screams 'If I had' after 'If I had' after 'If I had', he screams for the tears that drown his vision, the tightness in his chest that feels suffocating. He knows Grian can hear him through the sandstone walls but he doesn't care. He hadn't cared for a long time. Not until Jimmy. Jimmy, his fucking starshine, his morning glory, his fucking dumbass husband, who didn't hesitate to protect Scott from the most powerful people here- because Jimmy didn't want to lose him.

It should have been Scott.

But the universe is cruel.

He hunches over, sobs tearing through his body, protecting what's left of his husband, watching his own tears leave clean streaks in the bloody mess. He takes the water and the rag and wipes away what he can. Scott clears Jimmy's face, his beautiful fucking face, wipes the blood from his lips, nose, hair. Oh, his hair. Jimmy never did anything with it. Never brushing it, leaving it in whatever state it was in when he woke up, starting a few days ago, Scott would hold him down and fix it for him. 'No husband of mine is going to walk around with hair as bad as that.' It didn't matter, Jimmy's hair was still matted to the side of his head. Scott couldn't even look to that side of his face without almost throwing up-

The arrow despawns.

Scott pulls his sword from his inventory with hysteric breaths and unforgiving sobs. He holds it at arm's length. He's still a yellow-life, this wouldn't fix anything. He'd become a red-life, and then have to do it all over again. He doesn't have the energy. He wishes he had the energy, but… he knows Jimmy would be appalled. That is, if the afterlife would be kind enough to put them together. But Jimmy would still be upset. That's one of the many things he loved about Jimmy. If you did something for him, a gift, rebuilding his house, doing his hair, he'd get so flustered. He'd get red in the cheeks and would start stammering and it was the cutest thing. Scott would start teasing him about it and Jimmy would sheepishly smile and hide his face in his shoulder.

But that smile is gone now.

Scott lets the sword clatter to the floor.

"I'm so sorry, Jimmy" Scott whispers, rocking back and forth, his thumb circling Jimmy's cheek. "I never wanted it to end this way." Scott lets his head hang, his hair brushing Jimmy's forehead. Jimmy loved Scott's hair, too. He would constantly tuck it behind Scott's ear for him, sometimes adding a flower. He would constantly complement the blue, make up little nicknames. Jimmy's favorite color was blue.

"It's because of you," Jimmy had said, "blue being my favorite color, it's because of you. Your eyes, your hair, everything about you is blue in the best way. The flowers are jealous." Scott saw blue in everything after that. He sees something blue in his jacket pocket that hadn't been there before-

It's a hyacinth.

Jimmy must have slipped it in before the fight, how it stayed in his pocket he has no idea, but it's the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for him. He gingerly pulls it out, some of the petals are stained, but it doesn't matter to Scott. Jimmy put it there. Jimmy put it there. Jimmy saw this flower, thought of him, snuck it into his pocket, and- maybe Jimmy thought it would bring good luck? Scott starts to sob again, holding a simple blue flower in one hand, his best fucking friend in the other.

Scott tucks the flower behind Jimmy's ear.

Scott's chest and hands and legs are red, his eyes are red, he is broken beyond repair. But he still sees the blue. It stands stark against the red. The blue in Jimmy's clothing, the blue of the hyacinth blending with his hair. Jimmy's eyes were blue, too. He wants to see that blue again more than he's wanted anything in his life. He wants to be mad at those who took it away from him. He can't bring himself to be mad. He should be blind with rage, but he's just tired. If Jimmy were here, he'd make him tea and tell him to stay inside, Jimmy might have even stayed with him instead of going out to farm or mess around with Joel or Impulse.

Why, why, why, why did it have to be Jimmy. Jimmy was the last person who deserved this. Jimmy honestly deserved the world. Jimmy… he made the world a better place. The world feels wrong now.

"I'll be back to bury you, my love, but I can't stay," Scott whispers. He lightly kisses Jimmy's forehead. "We've had each other since the beginning, I will see this through to the end. They won't get away with this. I can't let them. You were everything to me, you still are. I love you with everything I have, even now that death has parted us, I can't stop loving the memories we shared." Scott can't recognize his own voice. It's strained and raspy and it hurts to speak. It hurts to breathe. It hurts so fucking much. Scott has to tear himself away. If he had his way, he would stay there until someone came along to kill him, too. But Grian still needed him. He- he let Jimmy down, he wasn't going to let Grian down. Scott kisses Jimmy's cheek one last time and picks up his sword, planning vengeance. He'd have to survive that long, but he would. He can't give up. He only realizes how bloody he is as he steps out of the bunker. Sure enough, Grian is waiting for him as promised. Before Scott can say anything, Grian runs over and scoops Scott up into a hug.

"You're gonna have blood on your clothes now, too" Scott rasps, Grian laughs lightly.

"I'm so sorry. We'll kill Skizz, I swear on it." Grian says, rubbing Scott's back. Scott tucks his head into Grian's neck.

"What am I supposed to do without him?" Scott whispers, barely audible to either of them

"Kill Dogwarts. Bring them down. Make them regret everything they've ever done." Grian whispers back. No one's around, they have no need to be whispering, but neither of them wants to raise their voice.

"They deserve it, they're homophobic," Scott says, some of his trademark sarcasm creeping back into his voice, Grian giggles.

"There he is. I missed you, Scott." Grian smiles, pulling away.

"This is gonna suck, isn't it," Scott says, sniffing, chest tightening again, a sad smile on his face.

"It might- hey, hey, it might, but Scar and I are here for you. We'll fight tooth and nail for you, and for Jimmy, I swear." Grian offers some armor, which Scott gladly accepts.

"Well, we have to find Scar first," Scott and Grian both laugh, "I'll come back for him, to take him and bury him back home. But… I just can't do that right now." Scott sighs.

"Take all the time you need, Scott," Grian says. Scott was lucky to have him and Scar. Scott knew they were his friends, his allies, and Jimmy trusted them until the end, and so too would Scott. They- they were all he had left of Jimmy.

He wasn’t gonna lose them too.

He can’t.

He couldn’t.

He didn’t.

[dumblydork]

Dying Embers

Her hair swished wildly in the wind, as if it were leaves swaying from the onset of a cyclone- flowing down to her waist, head thrown back. Fiery red, just like the dying embers of what was formerly a warming furnace. He could hear her laughter, slow and melodic, almost as if it were empyrean. She was the love of Harry's entire being. The soul to his body, the mind to his brain. She turned around, and all Harry could glimpse was her mouth- full, and pulled into a large smile. Her eyes were a bright hazel, shining with happiness, as she ran towards Harry, fitting easily in his arms.

They had met at the ball thrown by his parents that summer, exactly so that their son could meet a suitable young woman to marry. Harry had been extremely bored with the festivities, instead wishing he were out practicing archery with his friend, Neville.

His eyes flew around the room, passing from and then returning to a young woman who had just entered the gala. She didn't seem familiar, and was chaperoned by who seemed to her brother, judging from their hair. Harry was mesmerised- her yellow dress floated around her as if it were made of the finest, lightest silk to exist, and her hair was pulled back elegantly, exposing the milky column of her neck. He walked towards the pair.

"Forgive my intrusion, but will the lovely lady here consider dancing the next waltz with me?" Harry bowed slightly, his hand pulled tightly at his back.

The girl eyed him shyly as his brother did a more open appraisal. "We would like to first make your acquaintance, sir." He finally spoke.

"Of course, forgive me. I am Lord Harry Potter, Viscount of Little Whinging." He said, an automatic confidence seeping into his voice, one which only came from being the son of a duke.

"Forgive me, my Lord, I did not know. I am Ronald Weasley, and this is my younger sister, Ginevra Weasley. Our father is the Baron Weasley of Burrows." The pair bowed deeply, something which made Harry slightly uncomfortable.

"Please, I take no offense. It is my pleasure to make an acquaintance of Lord Weasley's children. He is my father's close friend. My question, however, to Lady Ginevra here remains unanswered." Harry steered the topic back to more important things from mere formalities.

"Of course, my lord." Ginevra said softly, placing her hand in Harry's outstretched one. As they walked towards the center of the floor, Harry's eyes met the identical ones of his mother, who stood to the side, flashing her son a soft smile.

"I adore you. And so does every thread of my existence, until my breath ceases." Harry spoke, bringing himself back from the night at the ball.

"I simply reciprocate, my Lord. And shall do so until death pull us part." She spoke softly, meeting Harry's lips with her own.

At the brink of twilight, a day before their wedding, the two of them wove their lives together, sealed by golden vows.

---

"Harry? Get on up, it's time to go!" His mother, Lily's voice flitted through the room, and sunlight poured inside as well, casting a bright glow all over. Harry sat up in bed, stretching excessively, getting rid of the multitude of pulls and pains he seemed to acquire over the night.

His parents swore he did not sleepwalk and fall down the stairs.

"Harry, honey, come on. You'll be late for uni otherwise." His mother peeked inside, her reddish brown hair pulled into a knot at the top of her head, green eyes shining with motherly affection. Seeing his mother's hair, Harry was reminded of his dream- recurring dream, he should say. Even though it was simply a few minutes old, seeing the 'girl' in his dream, he felt as if it were quite some lifetimes ago.

He had been dreaming of a girl quite frequently lately, and not in the lewd way his best friend Ron seemed intent on. Harry would always simply spot her hair, the curve of her waist and as soon as she turned around, he would be jolted awake.

When he was a child, his mother used to tell him tales in which princesses would dream of faceless men, a golden bond tying the two people together. The faceless person you dreamt about was whom you shared your golden thread of life with. But those were just fantasy- woven to make a dull reality exciting. At least now, at the age of 19, was what Harry believed. He hopped out of bed, and walked off into the bathroom, getting started on his morning routine. It was half past eight when he went downstairs, his first class of the morning at 9:15. His father, James, was stood in front of the kettle, pouring himself a cup of his morning Earl Grey, and his mother was setting down the plate of pancakes on the table.

"Breakfast?" She asked, sitting down, his dad joining her to the left. "Morning Haz." His father grinned lopsidedly, a grin much like Harry's own, glasses steaming up from the hot mug. Harry recited a greeting in return and was about to refuse breakfast on the account of well, running late, when the smell of butter floated up to him and he found himself seated in front of his parents.

"Did you get sore again?" Lily asked, concern lacing her low voice.

"Yeah. I just don't seem to know how." Harry noted, voice muffled from a mouth full of pancakes.

"Slow down, you'll choke." She admonished lightly, shooting James an exasperated look when he snickered a low 'That's what she said' into his morning Daily Prophet.

"He probably needs a new mattress. Let's get one on the weekend." His mother said, earning an affirmative hum from James who was busy with his newspaper.

"I'll get going now. Bye mum, bye dad. See you in the evening." He spoke after having had his share of pancakes and a chat with his mum. He bent down for the customary top-of-the-head kiss from his mother, something she had been doing since Harry started school. And although he wouldn't admit it, he adored this little sentiment. His dad shot him another grin as he walked out of the door, putting in his earphones.

Fortunately for him, the university campus was quite a short bus ride away. However, he still found himself running across the campus from the bus stop to his lecture theatre- he forgot to factor in the fact that the hall today was all on the opposite end of campus.

"Shit," He glanced at his phone, currently glowing 9:21. It was Professor Binns' lecture, and he wasn't too fond of latecomers. Harry counted on his excellent grade in the module, hoping that would pull him through. As he ran across, his peripheral vision noted a mane of red momentarily, but before Harry could turn around and see, he was already in front of the class, digging through the bag for his ID card.

---

"How is it that Binns' lectures keep getting worse through the term?" Ron, the aforementioned best friend groaned.

"Because your attention dwindles further as term moves on." Hermione, the other best friend noted. Harry grinned between the two of them. They were so in love, those oblivious idiots.

Binns' was the only class the three of them took together, and Ron departed for his Victorian Literature module. Harry and Hermione walked to the open amphitheatre, choosing to spend their free half hour which coincided together.

"Oh right. My friend from school is joining today, I was supposed to go show her around. Fancy coming?" Hermione spoke, eyes focused on her text messages. "Sure, I have the rest of the morning free." Harry pursed his lips. Hermione simply nodded and they set off across the campus again after the brief interlude at the theatre.

"Your friend is from school?" Harry asked.

"Yeah- she's a year younger but we were quite close when I was in year 12." She replied, eyes scanning the crowd at in front of the Lifesciences Lab, which was one of the main buildings on campus. "Who are we looking for again?" He imitated the search.

"Redhead, shorter than you." Hermione did not look up from the hoard of people, before her mouth set into a wide grin.

"Ginny! Here!" Hermione waved her arms around, jumping up and down in tandem. Harry couldn't see who Hermione was waving to, but the crowd was being roughly pushed aside as someone made their way towards the pair.

"Hermione! So good to see you!" The woman said, grabbing the older girl into a tight hug and letting go, placing the three of them in a triangular formation.

"Oh my god, I almost forgot to come see you." Hermione said somewhat sheepishly, but Harry wasn't listening. He was staring- no, gaping at the newcomer. Her hair was the exact shade of red as the girl in Harry's dream, and it cascaded down her back in a half up half down style. Her waist was encased in a light yellow sundress, complimenting her red hair. All in all, she was beautiful. Not because of her hair or slender figure, but also because of how her eyes shone as she spoke to Hermione.

"Have I seen you before?" Tumbled out of Harry's mouth before he could stop (or reason), and a pair of bright hazel eyes bore into his own moss green, before glittering again. Ginny simply smiled.

~~~~

And here it is, another AU! I definitely did not plan for this to be a multiple lifetime AU, but Regency!Hinny seemed too good to pass up on. I apologise for what is probably a very poorly written Regency era conversation, my knowledge of it is simply from Bridgerton and Google haha. I decided to keep the end open, just so that you guys can envision your own romance for them! Also, can I just say how I loved writing Lily and James?? It's their little debut in my one-shots yay!

Also, you can find my Ao3 here, where I post quite fluffy Wolfstar one-shots, if that's your thing!

I hope you enjoyed this as usual! Please interact with my pinned TAGLIST post on my account if you wish to be notified of whenever I post Hinny one-shots! Thank you for reading, and big hugs to everyone who loves what I write! Please keep going, it truly makes my day (or week??) xxxx

TAGLIST: @amy-herondale-chase // @purplepygmypuffskein // @ginnypxtter // @alwaysmagica1 // @norakelly // @coffee-fandoms-and-chaos //

[multifandomoneshotss]

A Helping Hand

Fandom: American Horror Story

Cordelia Goode x Reader

Summary: You’re a close friend of Cordelia’s, and after the acid attack leaves her blind, you vow to help her with her every need. Little did she know that you were in love with her. 

A/N: This takes place in Coven, but Hank does not exist in this story, so Cordelia’s last name never became Foxx. She is always referred to with Goode as her last name.

You have been attending Robichaux academy for about 2 years now after you discovered your powers during a witnessed burglary. A man tried to steal a woman’s purse and all you had to do was look at him before he was suddenly set on fire. Shortly after the incident, your parents dropped you off at the academy and have been there ever since.

The first person you met when you first arrived was Cordelia, and when you locked eyes with her, your stomach fluttered slightly at the beauty in front of you. Her blonde hair was wavy and silky to the touch. Her brown eyes looked down at you with care, more than you had ever felt in your life, and over time, you couldn’t help but fall in love with her.

Time passed and you and Cordelia became close friends. She enjoyed your company whenever she was working on her potions in the greenhouse. You liked when she was able to help you with your own powers, teaching you spells, and soon you were able to perform magic that even some of the other girls couldn’t do. And even though you were in love with Cordelia, you’ve never had the courage to tell her.

You were devastated when you heard about Cordelia’s attack. You rushed to the hospital as soon as Fiona had called you.

“Cordelia Goode, what room is she in?” you asked a nurse hurriedly. They lead you to her room and you burst in the door, immediately rushing to her side, taking her hand in yours. She flinched it away in fear.

“Delia, it’s me, Y/N,” you said softly as you slowly, gently take her hand once again.

“Y/N...” she trailed off, relaxing into your touch.

That is when you realized that she is blind. The brown eyes that would gaze lovingly down at you were no longer there.

Suddenly, Cordelia gasped and let go of your hand, clutching it against her chest.

“Delia, what’s wrong?” you asked, worry beginning to cycle through you.

“She has second sight now,” Fiona responded. You jerked your head towards her when you heard her voice. You didn’t even know that she was there.

“What does that mean?”

“It means that by touching someone, she can see what they are thinking about, like a vision.”

You gulped nervously, knowing that you were thinking about how much you love her. What did she see? you thought to yourself. You never got an answer because Cordelia had fallen asleep.

Now, ever since the attack, you have done nothing but help Cordelia in any way that you can. You bring her cups of coffee in the morning after helping her get downstairs, always making sure her delicate fingers are wrapped around the steaming mug before letting go. You help her get dressed after her showers every day, and you can’t help but blush every time. Anything that she needed done, you were there by her side.

One morning, after getting Cordelia her usual cup of coffee, you were sitting at the kitchen table next to her, staring at her. Even though there wasn’t much to her eyes any longer, you still thought she was beautiful. You also couldn’t help but admire her strength through all of this. You couldn’t imagine being blind, not knowing your surroundings. But somehow Cordelia was able to persist through it, even telling you that you didn’t have to help her.

“You know, Y/N, it’s been a while since what happened, and while I appreciate everything you’re doing for me, I think I’ll be alright on my own.”

“But I want to help you, Delia. I care about you, and I don’t want you to end up hurting yourself. You can’t see. Please, let me be here for you, just like you were there for me when I first came here.

You cupped her face in your hands, bringing her closer to you. You felt heat rush down your neck at her close proximity to you. “Everyone needs a helping hand at some point right?”

After that, Cordelia had let you take care of her, and now, as she is sitting at the table drinking her coffee, she couldn’t be more grateful for you. Sometimes she still had the feeling of wanting to do things for herself, but she always told herself not to and left it for you to do.

She hears the chair next to her scrape across the floor as you stand up. “I’m going to go check on Zoe and Queenie, make sure they’re awake. I need their help with a spell I’m working on. I’ll be right back.”

You weren’t really thinking when you leaned down and kissed her lightly on the cheek. You blushed as you walked away. What the hell were you thinking?

Cordelia slowly brought her hand up to her cheek, smiling softly at the tingle that your lips left behind on her skin. She had recently developed feelings for you as well, and longed for more of your touch. She was pretty sure that the feelings were one-sided, though, so she kept it a secret.

She sat there for a while, no sign or your return to the kitchen. She could hear other footsteps, but she knew what yours sounded like; none of them were yours. Soon her coffee mug was empty, and she thought she would be able to handle getting more for herself, so she slowly rose from her seat, clutching the cup  so hard so she wouldn’t drop it. Cordelia felt the table around her and then walked in the direction towards the fridge, forgetting her can leaning up against the table. Her hand was out in front of her, and it soon found the fridge.

Alright, now move to the right, she thought to herself. Her hand finally found the coffee maker and she let out a sigh of relief. She placed down her cup on the counter, not realizing that it was on the edge, and it fell to the floor, breaking into a million tiny pieces. Cordelia jumped at the sound.

“Shit!” she yelled.

You had heard the noise from upstairs and you immediately rushed down to her. You saw her trying to bend down and clean the mess.

“Delia, don’t touch that, you could cut yourself,” you say as you get on your knees, beginning to pick up the sharp shards off the floor.

“I’m sorry Y/N, I just wanted more coffee. I though I could do it myself. I’m sorry.”

You look up at her to see tears running down her face. You drop the pieces in your hand and wrap your arms around her in a tight embrace. She leans into you, sobs coursing through her body.

“It’s okay, it’s not your fault. It’s a simple mistake, alright? Nothing to worry about, I’m right here, okay? I’m not letting you go.” You saying anything you can think of to comfort her as you hold her, running your hand through her hair.

Cordelia grips your shirt while she cries, and you both sit there for a while before Fiona enters the room.

“What the hell is going on in here?”

“Everything’s alright,” you respond. “Cordelia just dropped her cup. She was only trying to refill it herself.”

“I suggest you get off the floor and clean up this mess. And you.” She points at Cordelia. “You need to toughen up. It’s a coffee mug, so what?”

Fiona walks away before Cordelia can say anything, and tears threaten to spill from her eyes once again. You notice and place a hand on her thigh.

“Don’t listen to her, okay? I understand how you feel. I’ve never been in your situation, but I’ve been through the same pain. And I want you to know that I’ll always be here to clean up your little accidents.”

Cordelia chuckles and a smile spreads across her face. “Thank you.”

                                           ***

News of Fiona’s death shocked the entire coven. You might not have liked her because of how she treated Cordelia, but you still respected her. She was the Supreme after all. But her death meant that a new Supreme needed to be crowned.

You began to prepare for the Seven Wonders with the other girls, perfecting as many as you could before the day of the tests came. But you had a gut feeling that you wouldn’t pass, and you were right.

You failed on the Concilium test, something that you thought was going to be easy, but even after putting in all the energy you could muster, it didn’t work, and you were okay with that. You didn’t really want to be Supreme anyways.

While Zoe, Queenie, Madison, and Misty were doing the Descensum test, you sat on the sofa next to Cordelia.

“I’m proud of you for trying,” Cordelia whispers to you, gently placing a hand on your back. You smiled back, leaning into her touch. Then, to your surprise, she wrapped her arm around your waist and pulled you closer to her, so close that you could smell the lavender-scented dryer sheets she likes when you wash her clothes. You lean your head on her shoulder, taking a deep inhale of the scent, and that is when you truly understood how she felt about you.

As the last of the sand runs through the hourglass, all but Misty have passed the test.

“No, please, we have to save her,” Cordelia says, kneeling next to Misty’s body.

“I’m sorry, my dear. We can’t help her,” Myrtle responds, and you could hear the pain in her voice. She really thought that Misty would be the Supreme.

Cordelia holds Misty’s body against her own, sobs rippling through her. You get up from the sofa and kneel down next to her, rubbing your hand on her shoulder. Misty’s body then disintegrates, and Cordelia moves her hands around, as if trying to find her again. They land on you, and she immediately pulls you towards her, putting all of her weight on you. You hold her tightly against you, moving your hand up and down her back to soothe her. It was hard for you not to break down and cry yourself. You had a big connection to Misty. Maybe not like the one you have with Cordelia, but you and Misty both felt alone in the world until your arrivals at the academy. Because of that, you have bonded. But you stayed strong, because Cordelia needed you now more than ever.

                                             ***

The transmutation test soon took place, and you watched in horror as Zoe somehow impaled herself on the top of the front gate. She was quickly moved to a table in Cordelia’s greenhouse, but she was quickly losing blood. She lost consciousness, locking eyes with you before they fluttered closed. Kyle held her face and cried over her, and a deep sadness filled the air.

Everyone looked to Madison to assist in helping Zoe.

“Why should I do it?”

“Because Vitalum Vitalis is one of the Seven Wonders,” Cordelia replies and you could see the anger coursing through her.

Madison smashes a fly on the table, picking it up and closing her hands around it. She opens them and the fly buzzes away. “Is that good enough for ya?”

“Madison, please,” Myrtle pleads. “Bring Zoe back to us.”

“No, I won’t. I passed the test, there’s no need for me to help her.”

You knew she wasn’t going to change her mind. You looked over at Zoe as more of her life drained out of her. “I’m sorry,” you whisper to her, placing your warm hand on top of her cold one. Just then, a thought came to you.

“Wait a minute, what about Cordelia?”

She turns toward you, confused. “What do you mean, sweetheart?”

“Don’t you think that maybe you could possibly be the next Supreme?”

Cordelia stands there for a moment before she says, “No, I don’t think I’m cut out for it.”

“Cordelia, my dear, the least you can do is try. Madison does need a competitor as well,” Myrtle states.

She ponders on it for a couple of minutes before caving in.

“Fine, I’ll do it.”

“We begin your tests tomorrow morning.”

                                           ***

The next morning, Cordelia’s tests were underway, and you watched in awe as she effortlessly completed them one by one. When she was doing Concilium, she picked you to mess with, making you walk over to Madison and slap her face.

“Hey, don’t hit me like that!”

‘Sorry, Delia made me do it.”

Cordelia chuckled under her breath at what she was hearing, clearly enjoying the scene.

Soon she was head-to-head with Madison to complete Divination, and within two minutes, she had it done.

“Your turn, Madison,” she said to her.

“Oh come on, this is stupid. Do I really have to do this?”

“Ooooh, sounds like someone can’t complete Divination,” Queenie teased as she stood beside me.

“No, shut up, I can do it.”

But she couldn’t. Everything she did was wrong. She failed.

You looked at Cordelia, and even though she couldn’t see you, she seemed to be looking back at you, and something in the air shifted. You knew that you were looking at the next Supreme.

“Does this mean....” you begin to question.

“There’s one more test: Vitalum Vitalis,” Myrtle replied.

Soon you were all back in the greenhouse, you holding Cordelia’s hand as you led her to Zoe’s body on the table.

“You got this,” you murmur in her ear before letting go of her hand.

Standing behind her, you watch as Cordelia leans over Zoe. You couldn’t see exactly what she was doing, but after about a minute, Zoe’s eyes pop open and she inhales sharply. Cordelia falls to the ground, losing consciousness. You quickly get down on the floor next to her, lightly tapping her face.

“Cordelia, please wake up. Come on, please wake up.”

And she does, the first thing you see being her brown eyes looking up at you. She could see again.

“Our new Supreme,” Myrtle says with glee behind you.

You’re still looking down at Cordelia when she mutters, “I missed seeing your pretty face.”

You blushed at the compliment, heart filling with happiness. “You did it, Delia. You can see, you passed the Seven Wonders, you’re the Supreme. I’m so proud of you.”

Before you could stop yourself, you leaned down and placed your lips on hers, bringing your hand up to cup her cheek. Cordelia, though shocked at first, melted into the kiss, her soft, plump lips delicately moving against yours. A hand travels to your head, entangling fingers in your hair. You slowly pulled away, lingering for a moment before opening your eyes. You couldn’t help but smile at the beautiful woman below you.

“I love you, Cordelia,” you say softly, lightly touching your forehead against hers, lacing your fingers together. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Y/N. Always.”

[fallen-gravity]

Cheap Thrills and Expensive Snacks

Mabel grins. “Grunkle Ford, do you want to go on a road trip with us? One last adventure before we have to go home?”

Ford’s smile softens with sadness. He’d gotten so caught up in reveling in Bill’s defeat that he’d almost forgotten the kids were heading back to California at the end of the summer.

Ford shakes his head. “I would love to, but…” he frowns. “I’m not sure we have enough time”

The young twins exchange grins, like that’s exactly the response they were waiting for.

“I wouldn’t say that, Grunkle Ford” Dipper grins, looking like he’s struggling to suppress a fit of giggles.

“We have all time in the world” Mabel finishes Dipper’s sentence for him, and in perfect unison the twins pull out a roll of measuring tape from their pockets.

Notes: Here's my belated entry for Week 3 of Forduary: Road Trip!! I absolutely love the road trip trope, and highkey wish Ford could've gotten to see some of Stan's competitors just for the sake of how awful they were compared to the Mystery Shack. C'mon! Give Stan some credit.I also wanted an excuse for Ford to bond more with the kids before they went home, and what better way than through a never-ending roadtrip that somewhat breaks the laws of time and space?

@forduary

AO3

Ever since Ford heard the first bird chirping the morning after Weirdmageddon’s conclusion, he’s felt like a thirty-year old weight has finally been lifted from his shoulders. For the first time in decades, Ford has found himself able to sleep, able to eat, able to do and say anything he pleases without having to speak in hushed tones or cast a cautious glance behind his shoulders.

For the first time since his childhood, he truly feels like himself again, and no longer like a marionette whose strings are always on the brink of snapping under pressure.

It was that first morning after the war, upon waking up before others (out of habit, mostly), that he allowed himself to truly sit and ponder on everything he’s been missing since shutting himself out from the world in his early twenties. He quickly came to the conclusion that the things he missed most were always the things he’d always had just outside of arm’s length; He missed the thrill of discovery, of exploration,  the passion for his life’s work that had faded into thin air the moment that fateful first test run of the portal had failed.

Most of all, he missed companionship.

As much as he hated to admit it to himself, Ford needed other people in his life more than anything else, even more than Ivy League schools and research grants and all the knowledge in the universe.

He told Stan the reason he wanted to take a boat out to the Arctic was to track and contain the remnants of Weirdmageddon that had begun to spread outside of Gravity Falls. But truth be told, he would’ve asked Stan if he still wanted to travel world with him regardless, because Ford found himself wanting nothing more than to chase their childhood dream and never let it go again.

There’s a light knock on his study door as he’s scribbling down navigation notes and he’s half-expecting to see Stan when he turns to the noise. He’s instead met with Dipper and Mabel, standing side by side in his doorway.

“Got a minute?” Dipper asks.

“We have something super important to ask you!” Mabel beams.

Ford places his pen down on his desk, and smiles. “I’m listening”

“Well,” Dipper starts. “We’ve been thinking about how we didn’t get to spend a whole lot of time with you this summer because...” he shrugs. “Well, because we didn’t know you existed until a few weeks ago”

“And that’s totally unfair to you!” Mabel throws her arms up in the air. “It’s not your fault you missed out on all the fun because you were trapped in another dimension”

Dipper nods. “And that got us thinking of all the time we spent with Grunkle Stan, and the road trip he took us on a few weeks ago without you. I don’t know if that was because he asked you and you said no, or if he left without telling you out of spite, or something”

“And that’s when a super genius idea came to us!” Mabel grins. “Grunkle Ford, do you want to go on a road trip with us? One last adventure before we have to go home?”

Ford’s smile softens with sadness. He’d gotten so caught up in reveling in Bill’s defeat that he’d almost forgotten the kids were heading back to California at the end of the summer.

But…a glance to the calendar hanging by the doorway tells him it’s August 29th, and the twins are set to leave after their birthday party ends on the 31st.

Ford shakes his head. “I would love to, but…” he frowns. “I’m not sure we have enough time”

The young twins exchange grins, like that’s exactly the response they were waiting for.

“I wouldn’t say that, Grunkle Ford” Dipper grins, looking like he’s struggling to suppress a fit of giggles.

“We have all time in the world” Mabel finishes Dipper’s sentence for him, and in perfect unison the twins pull out a roll of measuring tape from their pockets. Before Ford has even a moment to wonder what they could mean, they each pull on their tape, high five each other, and disappear into thin air.

Ford stumbles to his feet, nearly knocking his chair to the ground. Between one blink and the next the kids reappear, both of them wearing period piece costumes. The measuring tapes in their hand crackle with blue lightning.

Ford gasps. “Time tapes! Of course!” He approaches the twins in the doorway. “How did you two get ahold of these?”

“Let’s just say we have an inside to these sorts of things” Mabel replies, kicking her costume off and placing her time tape back into her sweater pocket.

“So what do you say?” Dipper steps forward. “Do you want to come with us on a road trip? We can literally go whenever we want”

“You mean when--” Mabel pauses, backtracking. “Oh, wait, you did say that”

“So what do you say, Grunkle Ford? One more adventure for the road?”

Ford’s chest fills with warmth. He’d love to; he really would, but…

“What about Stan?”

“Y’gotta give me some credit, poindexter” Stan’s voice rings from behind the corner. If Ford had to guess, it’s probably because he was waiting for his response. “Someone’s gotta tag along to babysit you three”

Ford wants to glare at his brother at the insult, but his excitement overtakes it and a grin spreads to his face instead.

“Let’s go,” he says, with all the wonder in his tone that he’d been missing for years.

Dipper and Mabel exchange nods, and take each other’s hands. With their free hands, they stretch their measuring tapes out the same length.  Stan grabs on to Mabel’s shoulder, and after he and Dipper share a silent, knowing glance, Ford places his hand on Dipper’s shoulder.

Dipper and Mabel release their tape in unison, and a large flash of white light overwhelms Ford’s vision. When it finally fades, the four of them are still standing exactly where they’d been a moment ago, the only indication that anything changed being the sparks of blue lightning crackling from their clothes.

Dipper’s the first to step away from the huddle. “See?” He gestures at Ford’s wall calendar, which now displays June instead of August. “It’s practically the beginning of the summer all over again!”

Mabel breaks away to stand beside Dipper. “Now we can go anywhere we want! We could go to Portland, or Vegas, or the lost city of Atlantis, or anywhere in the world, because this bad boy prevents us from missing our bus ride home for as long as we want!”

Stan chuckles, shaking his head. “Not so fast, Mabel. I love the enthusiasm, but I’m not sure my old RV can handle driving into the ocean. Not unless Brainiac over here is willing to do some modifications on it” Stan throws an arm around Ford’s shoulder, squeezing it tightly. “Besides, I’ve already got a plan!” Stan’s gaze shifts to Ford, and the grin on his face could split it in two. “If you think my attractions look fake, just wait ‘til you see how bad my competitors look compared to me!”

“I dunno,” Dipper frowns, scratching at his chin. “Don’t you think going back to the place where you were almost eaten by a giant spider lady is a bad idea?”

“Hey, time travel rules mean that I never met her in the first place, right?” Stan crosses his arms. “Besides, it’s not like I’m gonna fall for her tricks all over again just because she offers me discounted tickets, or something”

Dipper and Mabel exchange worried glances.

“Mmm, okay,” Dipper says. “But we’re keeping an eye on you”

“That’s the spirit!” Stan exclaims, and slaps Ford on the back as he backs out of the room. “I’m gonna go pack. I doubt you have anything to pack, Sixer, but we’re reconvening in the gift shop in an hour. Go…take a shower or something. I don’t wanna spend next twelve hours driving with someone smelling like that.”

Ford glares at him, but before he has time to respond Stan’s already gone. The kids must’ve slipped out close on Stan’s heels, because when Ford turns he’s alone in his room. Rolling his eyes, he walks to his couch and kneels on the ground, reaching underneath for his emergency exploration pack. It’s a backpack torn and worn from age, and comes already packed with water bottles, nutrient bars, sunscreen, and just about every brand of monster repellent known to mankind.

A nostalgic sort of smile threatens to tug at his lips. He hasn’t seen this bag since his early research days with Fiddleford. He slings it over his shoulders, and pats at his trench coat pocket to make sure his journal is still safely tucked inside. He doesn’t necessarily plan on making any more additions, but he supposes that old habits die hard.

~~

It’s a very bulky RV, much bigger than Ford was expecting. He’d assumed that Stan calling it an RV was just an exaggeration, and that the four of them would just be piling into the Stanleymobile as they tugged some tiny trailer along that they would only would only step foot in for sleeping. But as Ford approaches, he can see Dipper and Mabel chatting at a small table through the window, and Stan rummaging through a cupboard above them, and it looks as though there’s still plenty of room to walk between them.

Mabel taps on Dipper’s shoulder, points in Ford’s direction, and both of them wave frantically out the window at him.

“Took you long enough,” Stan suddenly appears in the doorway of the camper. “Now get in. The last thing we need is to run into the past versions of those two and get bombarded with questions” He gestures with his thumb towards Dipper. “Especially him.  He sees that journal sticking out of your pocket and we’re done for”

Ford chuckles. “I can only imagine,” he says, and climbs aboard behind Stan. He’s about to take the passenger side seat besides Stan when the kids frantically wave him over.

“Grunkle Ford, over here!” Mabel beams, and hops down from her seat across from Dipper. “Come sit with us!”

“This is a road trip about spending more time with you, after all” Dipper nods. “What good will it do for us if you’re sitting way up front with Stan?”

“Yeah! No good interrogation ever happens from across the room!” Mabel exclaims.

Ford raises an eyebrow, but smiles at the pair as he takes a seat across from them. “Interrogation?”

“Yep!” Dipper grins. “We already know all of the heroic scientist stuff about you…”

“But we want to know the fun Grunkle stuff about you!” Mabel finishes his sentence for him. “You favorite ice cream flavor, your first kiss, the most illegal thing you’ve ever gotten away with…you know, just the basics!”

Ford blushes. “Well, I don’t know about that…”

“Aww, I’m sure it’s not that bad! Dipper’s first kiss was with a merman he had to give reverse CPR to!”

“Mabel!”  Dipper squeaks, his whole a dark shade of red. “That’s not fair! You know I didn’t have a choice!”

Ford can’t help the fond smile that spreads to his face. It’s moments like these that he’s going to miss the most. Sure, he’ll have anomalies, and treasure, and the whole world to explore, but he just knows that none of that is ever going to compare to time alone with the kids.

Once Stan gets the RV up and running, Ford knows there’s no going back. He and the kids swap childhood stories for hours, only pausing when Stan pulls off the side of the road to fuel up on gas and snacks. Dipper tells him of the time him and Mabel shaved their heads after a bully stuck gum in Mabel’s hair on photo day, and Ford tells them of the time that he and Stan swapped clothes on photo day just to see if they could get away with it. (They could, and Ford still has the yearbook where their photos are mislabeled as each other hidden away in his study to this day).

It’s eye opening, honestly. The young twins really are a mirror image to himself and Stan when they were kids.

“We’re here!” Stan grins, screeching the RV to a sudden halt. Upon looking out the window, the only thing Ford can see is a gift shop about the size of an outhouse and a ball of yarn about three sizes bigger than the RV.  Stan stands from the driver’s seat, stretching. “You think I overcharge for my tours, Sixer? This woman charges double the price of my admission just to take a picture of this fuzz ball” He reaches underneath the driver’s seat, pulling out a large hook attached to a thick rope. “We’re only doing her a favor by stealing it! Starting from scratch with a new attraction could do her some good”

“Hmm, I dunno” Dipper shrugs. “Don’t you think that doing the exact same prank on all of your competitors in the exact same order is just gonna result in them, I dunno, pranking you again in the exact same way?”

“Nonsense!” Stan brings his hand to his chest like Dipper had offended him. “The only reason they got away with it last time is because we left poindexter here home alone in the basement. There’ll be dozens of tour groups coming through the shack today with my past self taking care of the place for me.”  He taps at his forehead. “Besides, wasn’t this whole road trip your idea in the first place?” He smirks. “Are you telling me that your own idea is dumb?”

Dipper opens his mouth to argue back, realizes he has nothing, and pouts grumpily as he hops out of the RV. Stan cackles, and hops out of the RV after him. Ford rolls his eyes, and hops out after them to take a look at his surroundings. Stan really wasn’t kidding; everything really is contained to the one parking lot with nothing to show for it but the giant ball of yarn and a converted outhouse with tie-dye tee shirts hanging from its roof.

“Don’t just stand there gawking at it!” Stan slaps him on the shoulder, grinning. “Either help the kids out or talk the old woman’s ear off long enough to distract her” he gestures with a thumb towards Dipper and Mabel, giggling and poking at each other as they tie the rope end of the hook to the RV. As Mabel walks to attach the hook to the large yarn ball, she notices Ford watching her and waves hello.

“Hey Grunkle Ford!” she shouts. “If there’s enough left over from this mound after we drag it home, I’ll knit you a sweater with it!”

Ford laughs as he approaches to help her. “I’m counting on it.”

As it turns out, she wasn’t joking. As soon as they’ve all piled back into the RV to head to the next tourist trapped, Mabel already has her sewing needles in hand and a tangled ball of multicolored yarn sitting on the table in front of her. It’s amazing watching her work, clicking the needles together so quickly yet delicately, not missing a single fold. Ford’s never seen someone pour so much love into something so particular since the early days of his research.

Ford doesn’t want to interrupt her focus, so he turns to Dipper instead.

“How long has she been able to do that?”

Dipper glances at his sister beside him. “Oh, you mean sewing? Our grandma from our mom’s side of the family taught her when she was about six.” He rolls his eyes. “Our parents tried to buy her an electronic sewing machine for our eighth birthday, but she flat out rejected it because she insisted there wouldn’t be enough love in her creations if she didn’t make them by hand”

“It’s true!” Mabel exclaims, not looking up from her sewing job. “I’m not gonna sit around and let some machine do all the work for me! How are my friends and family supposed to know I made them their sweaters with love if I didn’t sew my blood and sweat into the threads myself?”

Ford hopes she’s being metaphorical, but the sentiment is still there. “So you’re telling me that every sweater you’ve worn this summer is homemade?”

“Yep!” she beams. “All the way down to the embroidery.” She holds up the skeleton of the sweater she’s working on into the light. “You’re real lucky, Grunkle Ford. This’ll be my first sweater I’ve ever made out of stolen materials!”

Her use of the term first rather than only makes Ford laugh.  The more time he spends with them, the less he wants to say goodbye to them. Stan must be the bravest man alive, being willing to send these kids home after three months with them, because if it were up to him he’d already be signing adoption papers to make them legally his.

“Stop two!” Stan yells from the front of the RV, and hops out as soon as they’re parked. Mabel places her work gently on the table, and follows Stan out without any effort. Dipper, on the other hand, takes one look out the window at where they’ve stopped and pales.

“Oh no”

Ford follows his gaze. It’s just a single story home turned on its head, absolutely nothing about it giving Ford the impression that there’s anything scary about it.

“What’s wrong?” Ford asks. “Do you get motion sickness? I learned quite a few tricks on how to deal with just the thing in the Spinning Top Dimension! You’re going to need a few things first, but I’m sure we’ll be able to find them around here somewhere-”

“N-no, it’s not that” Dipper cuts him off, face turning a dark shade of red. “The last time we were here I tried asking Grunkle Stan if he had any advice on how to talk to girls. And there was this one really cute girl, and we hit it off, but…” he rubs at his arm. “I acted like a total jerk. I treated her like she was just a number and I feel awful about it”

Ford frowns, getting down on one knee. “You’re not worried you’re going to run into her again, are you? This time loop should be stable enough to prevent her from showing up early”

Dipper’s gaze falls to the floor. “No, it’s more like…I’m so afraid of being myself that I feel like the only way I can fit in is to act like something I’m not. I just wish I could figure out a way to talk to girls without forcing myself to act like I’m better than them or something”

Ford smiles. “Dipper, I may not have any sound advice when it comes to girls,  but I’ve only known you for a number of weeks, and I think anyone would be lucky to have you. You’re kind and caring and so brilliant for your age” Dipper opens his mouth to protest, but Ford shakes his head. “Some of the most brilliant minds in the world suffered from anxiety and depression, my boy, and look where they are now. I have the upmost confidence that the same thing is bound to happen to you”.

Dipper’s eyes are big and wide, like he’s about to cry, but the waterworks never come. Dipper throws his arms around Ford’s neck in a hug, and Ford hugs him back. Once they pull away, they hop out of the van to join Stan and Mabel outside to prevent Stan from coming back in to yell at them. This stop is a bit less complicated, just a simple walkthrough to make sure there isn’t a hoard of tourists inside before running back out to tip the whole house right side up. It’s a lot of laughing from Stan and sprinting back to the van, and once they’re out of the parking lot and back on the highway it’s as if they never stopped at all. Mabel gets right back to working on her sweater, and Dipper gets right back to chatting up Ford for life stories.

A good portion of their stops go equally as smooth. The kids convince Ford to go on the log flume at Log Land with them which he absolutely does not throw up on, thank you very much, and Mabel nearly gets lost in a corn maze, but otherwise there’s nothing much of interest. Ford’s starting to suspect that Stan must be right, that the Mystery Shack really is the most interesting tourist trap in the entire state, until a giant mountain looms over the horizon.

“There she is,” Stan says, as if he could read his brother’s thoughts. “Her first year of opening I lost over half my usual revenue and I’ve sworn revenge on her ever since” He balls his hand into a fist and smacks the top of the steering wheel. “Our biggest mistake last time was getting too attached. I say this time we run in, grab as many mummies as we can get our hands on, and book it back to the shack before Darlene notices.”

“Don’t you mean that was your biggest mistake?” Dipper quips. “Besides, didn’t we find out last time that those mummies are real dead bodies?” He shivers. “I’m not sure how comfortable I’d feel about stealing them”

From the rearview mirror, Stan raises an eyebrow at Dipper. “What, you afraid their souls are gonna follow us home and haunt us? Work on your moral compass later, kid, this is about revenge” He adjusts the mirror. “Besides! What’s the chance we rescue someone who isn’t dead yet, just slowly suffocating in that nasty tasting web?”

Dipper opens his mouth to say one thing, pauses, and starts again. “Grunkle Stan, are you telling me you tried to eat the web you were trapped in?”

Stan shrugs. “Hey, I’m no stranger to chewing my way out of things. I’m just lucky I didn’t break any teeth on it, like I did with that car trunk”

As if that doesn’t raise more questions than it does answers, Stan drops the conversation entirely and doesn’t say another word until the RV pulls into the parking lot. Ford can’t even see the mountain peak when he hops out, it’s so obscured by fog that he knows wasn’t there ten minutes ago. Fog is the number one trap produced by anomalies to hunt their pray, so it’s no wonder this place gives Stan the creeps. Ford can’t even begin to imagine the size of the spider monsters the others described to him.

A shriek nearly escapes him at the feeling of something spindly crawling up his arm, but when he whips around he sees it’s just Stan running his fingers along his shoulder in a quick, scattered pattern. When he catches Ford’s eyes, he laughs so hard that tears pour down his cheeks.

“You should’ve seen the look on your face!” Stan wheezes. “You were all oh no, mister spider half the size of my hand, don’t eat me!” he cackles, wiping at his eyes with his wrist. “C’mon, time is money, and we don’t have any to waste” he gestures to the kids, already waiting at the information booth. “If we don’t hurry the kids are gonna get on the sky tram without us”

Ford raises an eyebrow. “You? On a sky tram?”

“Dipper didn’t tell you?” Stan’s raised eyebrow matches Ford’s. “Mabel helped me conquer my fear of heights! Now I’m untouchable!”

Seventeen years of the boardwalk and all the cotton candy as bribe in the world couldn’t fix Stan’s fear of heights. Dipper and Mabel really do continue to amaze him the more Stan tells him about them.

“Right,” Ford shakes his head, smiling fondly. “Of course.”

~~

It’s really no wonder this place boasts having the world’s slowest sky tram, because if it weren’t for the moving tree line Ford would almost think they weren’t moving at all. The bored expression on everyone else’s faces, a massive shift from the mischievous grins they’d been wearing before they got on has Ford choking down laughter. It’s about five minutes before there’s any sight of anything but tree bark, and the sun beaming directly into the glass car makes the whole thing feel like a sauna.

Still, it’s a dramatic shift in pace, and not one that Ford rejects. It’s really forcing him to slow down and think about his own feelings for once, a privilege he hasn’t had since he was in high school. Maybe it’s a little selfish of him to cherish the times he just gets to lose himself in his own head, rather than to spend so much of his time calculating plans to rescue others from danger, but-

“Whaddya think, poindexter?” Stan’s voice suddenly breaks through Ford’s thoughts, startling him.

Ford blushes. “What do I think of what?”

“The new plan!” Stan gestures to Dipper with his thumb. “Since this buzzkill is so against stealing ‘real dead bodies’,” he emphasizes with air quotes, “and since we probably couldn’t shove them all in this car anyway, we’re gonna go ahead with Plan B instead; Burning down Widow’s Peak!” Stan throws his hands in the air dramatically.

Dipper beams. “That way, they can’t make any more mummies for their mummy museum, and we might be able to save a few people from suffocating to death!” Stan and Dipper high five.

“It’s a brilliant plan, but…” Ford taps at his chin. “Where do you suppose we’re going to find the fire to burn it down?”

Stan cocks an eyebrow at him. “You tell me, mister ‘setting my face on fire is faster than shaving’. I wouldn’t be surprised if you had a lighter in your pocket right now. They have a bunch of prop torches in the caves, but if we pop the lightbulbs out of them and light them they should work good as usual” Stan’s mischievous grin is back on his face, a perfect reflection of when he was thirteen and pickpocketing a dollar from people’s wallets on the boardwalk to buy a box of saltwater taffy.

Turns out, it’s just as contagious now as it was back then. Ford reaches into the front pocket of his trench coat, and sure enough, comes up with a lighter. Stan erupts in laughter at the sight of it, and soon enough the entire car is infected with it. The rest of the ride up the mountain is much bubblier after that, with everyone swapping overdramatic stories of how the plan is going to go.

~~

Widow’s Peak is much bigger than Ford was expecting. It’s a whole cave that looks like it stretches for miles, and there really are rotting skeletons hanging upside down from the cave walls and ceilings.

Ford shudders.

“Aww, c’mon, Sixer! I know for a fact this isn’t half as bad as the stuff in your journals” Stan jabs at his shoulder with his unlit torch. “Besides, didn’t you say in your own journal that most ghosts come from their old bodies not having a proper burial? He gestures at a skeleton hanging upside down from the ceiling, its left hand barely hanging on by a thread. “You think any of these guys look like their spirits were able to move on peacefully, or however it goes?” Stan shakes his head matter of-factly. “You really want some poor unsuspecting tourist to bump into a hoard of angry ghosts? Tsk tsk”

“Alright, alright” Ford raises his hands in self-defense. “I suppose you’re right”. He takes his lighter out of his pocket and tosses it to Stan. Stan lights up his own torch, helps Dipper and Mabel with theirs, and then he turns back to help light Ford’s.

“Alright,” Stan rubs his hands together the best he can with a lit torch tucked under his arms. “Everyone knows the plan. Burn as many mummies as you can find, rescue the poor suckers who are still alive, and signal if you hear Darlene coming. Since I don’t trust Sixer over here not to try and interview her and get himself in trouble again, I say I’m in charge of lookout duty.” He adjusts his collar and flattens down the wrinkles of his suits with a quick pat down. “I flirt with her just long enough to distract her, I throw my torch in her face, and then we book it out of here as fast as our legs can carry us”

Dipper still doesn’t look convinced. “I don’t know, isn’t that exactly how you got yourself tangled up in a web last time?”

“Oh please,” Stan scoffs, waving a dismissive hand. “The only reason that worked last time is ‘cause she cornered me when we were alone. Besides, where’s she gonna take me if she catches me that you can’t just throw a torch and rescue me five minutes after it happens?”

Dipper’s face darkens. “True,” he mumbles under his breath, which makes Stan laugh. Stan slaps him on the shoulder, and Dipper glares at him, but there doesn’t seem to be any malice in it.

It’s one final glance between the four of them, and they’re all running off in different directions of the cave. It’s not long before the stench of burning silk fills the air, mixed with the stench of something Ford doesn’t want to think too much about. The webs burn relatively quickly, and together they burn through half of the cave in a much faster time than Ford would’ve expected. He’s about to light up one that looks like it was left here fairly recently, until something inside it starts wiggling.  Startled, Ford steps backwards until his back hits the cave wall, a soft oof escaping him.

“S’matter, poindexter?” Stan looks up from the fire he’s stomping out with his foot. “You see a widdle baby spider that freaked you out?”

Ford tries to glare at him, but the fear stabbing him in the chest doesn’t let it stick. He swallows hard, and points towards the wiggling cocoon with his torch.

“I think we have a live one” he whispers, stepping to stand beside Stan. Once Stan follows Ford’s torch with his eyes, something inside him tenses up.

“Ah, wh-what’d I tell you?” Stan’s voice shakes. “It’s probably just some poor sucker who fell for Darlene’s charms. Definitely not a gross sack of baby spider people or anything”

“R-right,” Ford swallows hard, and inches back towards the cocoon, rapidly waving his torch back and forth to potentially scare off whatever could be inside trying to break out.  But the longer he waves the torch in front of the web, the more he can make out the silhouette of a regular human being.

Throwing all caution to the wind, Ford rushes forward and begins tearing at the web with his bare hands, just enough so that the man is free from the chest up. He takes large gasps of air, and upon realizing that his hands are free he begins tearing at the web himself.  Once his feet are free and hit the ground, he takes one look at the Pines family, mumbles a startled thank you, and runs for his life out of the cave.

After that, the rest of the burnings go pretty smoothly. There’s significantly less living tourists in the cave than Ford would’ve expected from such a large tourist trap, and Ford’s not entirely sure whether he should find that reassuring or downright terrifying.  He’s almost surprised everything went so well, until the four of them nearly collide with a woman on their way out of the cave.

She looks just as baffled to see them as Ford feels to see her.

“Can I…help you?” She asks in a thick Jersey-esque accent. The name tag pinned to her shirt reads DARLENE in large brick letters.

“No!” Dipper cuts in before neither Ford nor Stan can respond to her. He clears his throat. “I mean, uh, no. Uh, apologies if this is a restricted area, but we got lost trying to find our way back to the sky tram” he shrugs overdramatically, no doubt in attempt to show Darlene that his hands are empty. She squints at him, and for a moment Ford could swear he just saw her blink horizontally. The silence that follows, though it probably doesn’t last for more than a few seconds, feels like it drags on for ages.

Suddenly, she’s donning an overly sweet smile. “Well, why didn’t you just say so? Let me walk you back. We’ve gotten more than our fair share of tourists who’ve gone missing from wandering too far into our caves, and I’d hate to have that happen to such a nice looking family like yours” She grins, flashing her unusually sharp teeth.  The four of them stay quiet until they’re all packed into their tram car, and Darlene is waving sweetly at them from behind.

They each collectively sigh. “Woof, that was a close one” Stan says, wiping the sweat from his forehead with his wrist. In a sudden shift of mood, he reaches over next to him and pulls Dipper into a headlock. “How’s about it for this guy’s quick thinking, huh?” he grins, and the four of them laugh until they hear a horrifying screech that makes their tram car rumble. They turn, and see Darlene emerging from the cave, the bottom half of her body replaced by that of a giant spider.

“My food!” she screams, shaking her first at the tram cars. “You burned all my food! Mark my words, I may not have gotten your names but I don’t forget faces very easily, you hear? If you ever show your face here again you’re dead meat!” She screams, yanking on her hair to reveal the rest of her spider-like body under her human disguise.

Stan simply cackles. “Yeah, we’ll see about that!” he mocks, knowing well enough that she can’t hear them from inside the car. He turns his attention back to the rest of the family. “Maybe we should go and warn our past selves to bring bug spray!” He exclaims, laughing himself to near tears.

Ford only rolls his eyes, but can’t help the smile on his face.

If only he’d known what he’d be missing when he turned down Stan’s offer to take this road trip with him and the kids the first time around.

The tram ride back to the parking lot is even more relaxing than the ride up. The sun is setting this time around, and even if the wind can’t really reach inside the car the whole thing just feels cooler. Most of all, he finds that the sound of the Stan and the kids’ laughter is far more welcome than any old conversation he could have in his own head.

When everyone piles back into the RV, they do not drive away immediately like they had at all the other stops. Instead, Stan turns around to face the three of them. “Well, that’s the end of that. That’s all I had planned, and we still have…” he pauses to count on his finger. “Two more months ‘til the kids have to go back home, technically. I’m all out of ideas, and I’m sure the kids have seen enough of the Gravity Falls weirdness for one summer”

He smiles to the kids, who nod and in turn smile at Ford.

“So where do you want to go now, Grunkle Ford?” Mabel says, with stars shining in her eyes. The grin spreading on Dipper’s face matches hers like two peas in a pod.

“Any place in the world. Wherever you want to go…” He pulls the time tape out of his pocket. “…For however long you want”

[limitlessgojo]

Blood Bound: Red Strings of Fate (Ch 9)

Warnings: Action, Coarse Language, Fighting, Descriptions of Blood

Previous Chapter: Red Strings of Fate

Next Chapter: Invisible Ties

Tags: Soulmates AU, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Fem!Reader

Taglist: @lessie-oxj @rizzo-nero @whoreuc @fkngkumiko @isl3t @gojoussunglasses @onepotatostand-blog @s-t-f-u-b-i-t-c-h @sunaswife

Notes: If you want to be tagged for every update, please mention it in the comments below ty <3

Chapter 9: Wait for Me

After the mission, you got back to the Kyoto High School campus. Both of you were still a little awkward, not knowing exactly how to proceed with your relationship. Are you dating now? Not necessarily.

Noritoshi reached out to you from behind, but thought better and retracted his hand. You seemed to have zoned out for the rest of the mission, so he thought it would be better to give you a bit of space.

You both were outside your dorm room after having submitted the report about how the mission went.

You turned back to face Noritoshi, “Thank you so much for accompanying me on my first ever mission senpai. It was definitely a different experience from just sparring with other jujutsu sorcerers. I’ll do my best to improve.”

You lowered your head, but he bent his knees so he could face you, “You definitely have talent and raw power. Please be more logical in your tactical and in-fight responses next time. Thank you for protecting me.” He spoke quietly so as to not disturb the other students who are already in bed.

You smiled tightly, “Just… doing my job.”

You looked up to face him. There was something cloudy and stormy in his expression that you couldn’t quite read.

He was such a hard man to read, Kamo Noritoshi. Now that you think about it, you really don’t know much about the man who is your soulmate.

Noritoshi pulled back with his usual solemn expression. “You should go on ahead and get some rest. Good night.”

“Good night Noritoshi senpai.” You weakly called out, before going back into your room. Your heart had never pounded this hard and fast before, you were sure. You had trouble going to sleep that night, remembering the second vision you both shared.

On the other hand Noritoshi’s head was spinning by the time he got back into his room. He could still feel the ghost of the kiss from the vision and wondered how it would feel to hold you close to him like that.

◇◇◇

During the weekend, Noritoshi went back to the Kamo Clan estate and told his father of everything that had occurred between the two of you. As soon as he finished his father softly slammed down a fist on his desk out of excitement.

“It’s been how many years since the last known living pair of soulmates existed? They were so highly regarded that most pairs chose to live in complete isolation out of fear of being targeted. We need to be careful, but this is truly a blessing from the heavens.” His father smiled.

Noritoshi’s dad pushed a book towards him. “We were able to find a very old record of soulmates from our clan’s history. Kamo no Hotaru. A man who lived quietly, after eloping with his soulmate away from the Kamo clan. His partner was said to be a woman from the Abe clan. They supposedly died in battle, according to records. This happened during the rise of curses right before the Heian era.” His father spoke solemnly.

Noritoshi felt chills run up his spine upon hearing his words. “The woman’s name is unknown. But her parents were known to have not approved of her involvement with Hotaru kun. This was as written in the diary entries of Hotaru. Curses and curse users alike were drawn towards their synergy and tried to break them apart or at least kill one of them.”

“They might have survived had they stayed with their families, but they chose love above all. Back then it was not yet widely known about how soulmates’ offsprings could have a power far greater than their parents’, but now we do. But even apart from that, a soulmate bond is said to make both halves grow stronger. So make sure that you don’t let go of her. Charm her and make sure she stays with you. A stronger bond will give you strength as a Jujutsu sorcerer.” His father orders him.

The words were swimming in Noritoshi’s head. But… “If it’s simply falling for her and making her fall for me, it should come naturally with time father. To be frank, I’ve been attracted to her since our first meeting. I will do my best.” Noritoshi said firmly.

◇◇◇

Days after your first mission, Noritoshi’s words from your first mission together still bothered you. It was so dumb on your part. “You don’t know me.” Those words just kept repeating in your mind. It wasn’t wrong.

Make no mistake, Noritoshi didn't mean to offend you at all. From his point of view, he only wanted you to tell him the real reason as to why you saved him without thinking of your actions. He didn't mean to hurt you with his words.

You tried to let it go, knowing that he was just extra worried at that time. But to be honest, it was something that still hung over you. You wished to know him better, not only as a soulmate, but also as a friend.

Everytime Noritoshi came around you and greeted you hello, your heart would tighten just a bit. He could start to feel the weighted heaviness on your soul that he didn't realize was yours via the bond.

He simply thought that he was also feeling down for no reason. It was a long way, distinguishing whose emotions were whose, as the bond is still so fresh between the two of you.

And so he gave his mother a call and scheduled a meetup with her.

“Hello? Mother. Yes, I am well. How are you? …. That’s good to hear. Are you free this weekend? …. Nothing really, I just wanted to see you. …. Yes, me too. …. All is going well here at school, you don’t have to worry I promise. … Yes father is okay. …. Thank you, I’ll see you this Saturday then. Goodbye.” Beep.

◇◇◇

In the following weeks, Noritoshi had been incredibly busy to say the least. He was finally getting promoted to a semi grade 1 as long as he does well in his next mission.

His father was constantly reminding him to make sure he makes you fall in love with him as his soulmate, and hurry it up so that the rest of the clan can meet you already. And he just really wanted to see his mother.

One afternoon you tried to cheer him up after noticing his bad moods. You made senpai some coffee and brought him pastries in your free time.

You sent him a text saying you had something for him. He replied that you could stay for a bit in his room.

“Pardon my intrusion!” You called out as you went in. The door was left unlocked for you. “Come in.” Noritoshi looked up tiredly. His eyes had heavy bags and he looked so exhausted.

“I’m sorry to be bothering you. I just brought some coffee and pastries here so that you can regain a bit of energy senpai.” you whispered, not wanting to be too loud for him.

“It’s not a bother. I’ve just been swamped with so much work as of the late.”

"Senpai, have you… considered getting a bit of rest first? The TOEIC is still a long way to go." You stared at the papers that read "TOEIC 990" stacked on top of his desk.

"I have other matters I’m attending to. Family business and other missions." He grunted while continuing to write down on his paper. He was definitely stressed and overworked.

Maybe he needed someone, like a family member. You tried to empathize with him, "I see. Have you heard from your mom and dad lately? I also understand if you're feeling homesick, I feel the same…" You trailed off upon seeing his face tighten at the mention of his mother.

Your heart dropped.

"That's none of your business." He whispered coldly without thinking.

Fuck y/n. You stepped on a landmine.

You inhaled sharply, backing away. “Ah, I’m so sorry to be intruding. I stepped out of bounds. Please get as much rest as you need.”

You quickly excused yourself from his room feeling so confused from his sudden cold demeanour.

Noritoshi reached out to you, “Wait! I didn’t-” but you already closed his door and stumbled out of his room faster than he could react.

He gave a deep sigh, not meaning to offend you or anything. He just wasn’t in the mood to be around anyone else, and that included you at the moment.

He was just feeling stressed, because he had to cancel his meetup with his mother since his father demanded to talk with him about other clan matters.

He groaned out in frustration. “I’ll have to talk and apologize to her later.” He noticed a heavy and sharp tugging at his heart. He dropped his pen in surprise and stared at his chest in confusion.

"This… these aren't my emotions…" it dawned on him finally. Finally, you both are starting to share very strong bursts of emotion.

Pain and sorrow. Your emotions washed over him like a tidal wave, so sudden that he didn't realize tears were running down one side of his left eye.

He felt guilt and regret like never before.

◇◇◇

A strong wave of regret and guilt stabbed through you. You were pretty sure that these were Noritoshi's emotions.

You finally started feeling something from his end, but you just felt heavy. Was it supposed to be tiring to be a fated pair? Or was it just the bond that was messing up both of your emotions?

You couldn’t even ask anyone else for help, because currently there are no known living soulmates. Besides you and Noritoshi that is.

◇◇◇

The next time you met each other, it was a bit awkward. You tried to give him space during the past few days, understanding that it must be what he needed.

After all, he didn't seem too keen on the way you tried to connect with him last time. You probably overstepped your boundaries. It's true, even though you're soulmates, you're still just friends at this stage.

But Noritoshi found himself looking for you. Trying to catch you in his free time, he finally found you in the weaponry, training with your twin blades.

He stared at your figure. You looked like you were dancing rather than fighting. Smaller daggers controlled by your cursed energy flew around you, covering for any blind spots.

They came to a halt as you set them down and deactivated your technique.

"May I help you Noritoshi senpai?" You asked without turning to look at him. He felt his throat tighten up.

"I came to apologise." Your fingers twitched as though itching to throw your dagger at him. But of course you would never.

"Ahhh, it's okay, Noritoshi senpai. I'm sorry for rudely not minding my own business. Even though we might be soulmates, you're not my boyfriend. We are just good friends aren't we?" You said as you finally turned to face him.

‘Set the boundaries and define the relationship’, you thought to yourself.

Every word you said felt like you were pushing the needle deeper in your heart. It hurt, and you both knew it.

He stepped towards you, standing inches away and shaking his head. "I took out my anger and stress on you, and that was wrong of me. I'm sorry. I do care about you deeply, and you're much more than a friend. You are a very special person to me.``

"Don't say words you don't mean Noritoshi senpai. Please." Your heart was slowly crumbling. He looked pained. "I am not lying. Please believe me.”

But you shook your head and stood your ground. You could feel a fraction of his emotions at this stage of the bond. And you knew in your heart that he was just as confused as you are, trying to feel his way into this relationship.

Noritoshi’s father’s words echoed in his head, ‘Don’t let her go.’

"Don't be unfair to me y/n. If I need time I need it. And I will surely fall for you. If you need time, I’ll also give it to you." He whispered out urgently. "We have a lifetime together."

How did he always sound so sure of himself? Of the future for both of you? You looked back up at him with teary eyes. It sounded so wrong, like he was forcing himself to love you just for the sake of the bond. Does that even count...

"To be honest with you, I don't know what to feel right now senpai." Your voice cracked. His heart broke upon seeing you like this. But nothing can be done.

Does the knowledge of a soulbond always bring a pair together or does it doom two people who are not yet ready to love?

"Wait for me." He promised as he took your hands in his and looked you in the eyes. Your marks felt warm.

You finally felt yourself calm down. And it was so frustrating that you're becoming so dependent on him, turning to him for physical affection. He was the cause of your sorrows and joys altogether.

Blood Bound: Table of Contents

[mimithings97]

ABSTRACT ft BOB ROSS (M) - JJK

Summary: Paintbrush in one hand, joint in the other and you sitting on his dick is what Jeongguk wants. And what Jeongguk wants, Jeongguk gets.

Genre: smutPWP, timid crack, established relationship

Word Count: 6k

Warnings: jeongguks horny! getting high, body painting, fingering, oral (both receiving), edging, slight subJK, unprotected sex, cockwarming, masturbation (fem), dry humping

A/N: Jeongguk being on his Bob Ross thing to help us through quarantine had me inspired. Fr Bob Ross was a legend. This gets steamy btw

Also pls stay safe everyone and don’t be selfish. Enjoy x

*Masterlist Link*

*Bold italic is JK speaking Korean*

“Tap it off… and just beat the devil out of it.”

“JEONGGUK FOR THE LOVE OF JESUSSS!”

“Isn’t that fun.”

“...What? Just doing what he tells me to do.” 

And he persists, batting brush to easel with a rate of knots only a testament to how fast he jacks off. It sends diluted paint across the room so you’re left as a life size dot to dot, with splatters lining your lips down to the hem of your shirt and it’s cold and wet, and this isn’t what you signed up for when he said ‘couples bonding’. 

“I’m fucking soaked.” He scoffs, that man sized brain of his conjuring a classic. 

“That’s what she said.” 

You’re four hours deep, and four hours too many by your standards. Jeongguk was always an avid painter at heart, finding joy in the freedom of all things creativity, but he was also a perfectionist, a competitor. It led him from tutorial to tutorial, because, whilst he’s got portraiture down, his landscaping needed a little brushing up - mind the pun - and it was only an amount of time before you stumbled across a Bob Ross tutorial in all things serene and panoramic.

You shake yourself off in some attempt to help the splay of wet paint and to ease your job with the washing machine later, and lean back on your heels to gather your bearings. Yet, Bob still drones on despite your misery, and your boyfriend’s all too eager to comply with his every word.

“Jeongguk!” 

He’s laughing off to himself, easily pleased in the scheme of all things pensioner humour, but murmurs off a halfhearted ‘yeh’ in your direction to ease where he knows you’re about to nag.

“Look at me!” 

He does. And it throws you off a little because he eyes you once over, twice and a third time before settling his gaze on your breasts - easily pleased for many more things than just Bob Ross.

“You’re messy.”

“Yeh fuck I am! You listen to Bob more than you listen to me, cockless.”  

He quirks an eyebrow, and shuffles so the laptop settled between both your easels can be paused, leaving Bob frozen in time and you to deepen your scowl.

“Yeh, um, cockless, cool... Bob tells me how well I’m doing and lets me hit paint brushes on wooden sticks. You don’t even let me feed Sassy nugs of weed when you sure as hell fucking know she’s a stoner cat.” 

Jeongguk was deep into his second joint after he fucked the first two paintings up enough he put a lighter to the edge of each. He even questioned using them as a roach, and you became one step closer to pleading insanity to your landlord and bolting the fuck out of you joint tenancy. But then he got you high and you persevered.  

Four more questionable and highly abstract paintings later, he’s got the hots for Bob, and you're left staggering on your words to rope him into lucidity again. 

“Guk, he’s a virtual man with 4 million followers, don’t take it personally and-.”

“But-” You deadpan, and point your paintbrush with emphasis. 

“And you know full well Sassy gets baked anyways off of fumes. The smoke gets in her fur as well and it was me” he looks innocently at you, muted by your outburst, “who got clawed when she had to be bathed. So tuck your balls away from Bob, and sober up!” 

He’s quiet. As are you. And even Bob lies dormant off in your peripherals. 

The room grows small as you size each other up, paintings left aside with the sole purpose of being witness to argument, and you think he might just look hot with his nipples standing cold against the open air and abs rolling beneath the line of his sweats. 

He’s on the same wavelength: 

“I can see your tits through that shirt.” 

You take a quick peak yourself, eyeing from one to the other, ignorant of the double chin you’re exposing, but all in the name of making sure the ladies stand perky. He’s got a glint beneath the surface now when he eyes your chest, and the paintbrush in his hand falls a little limper. 

“Yeah?” 

“Mmm.” He tongues his lips. Hungry. 

Self control in such a situation as this seems important. The ability to stand your ground no matter where your argument lies on the scale of idiocy. If you curtail into being seduced, he might still make you wash the shirt yourself, figure Bob Ross is a turn on and have Sassy seeing smoke rings by the end of the night. No. You’re not a pushover.

He’s an inch closer when you break the silence, the tumbleweed rolled aside. 

“Turn it around. Let me see.”

“Ey?”

He’s horny and you’re not playing ball, something his brain can’t quite transfer to his dick yet.

“Turn yours around I wanna see how you did.” You give a nod in the direction of his painting. A spout of curiosity as to what monstrosity he’s conjured this time, but also a distraction, something for him to latch onto aside from your chest. 

“I thought we wait til the end. It’s unfinished.” And one thing Jeongguk hates being is unfinished. 

“Baby, Bob’s been overworked tonight and I wanna light the last spliff.” You air a finger and twizzle it, “give it a whirl.”

Being the competitor he is, Jeongguk plasters a smile and spins his easel, the pride practically radiating from him with the way he eyes the two trees and awkwardly sculpted sky. The clouds are askew and the lighting is directioned all wrong, in fact, it’s more a Picasso than a Mozart, blocks of colour screaming attention rather than the realism Bob was hoping for. 

“What’s it abstract for.”

Jeongguk frowns because your tone clearly isn’t close to praise and that’s what he’s learnt to expect. What Jeongguk wants, Jeongguk gets. Tonight's seen enough of your short fuse, however, that he’s not in the running for your good books. 

“Jagi-ya,” he pleads, “you know I speak in small English only when I’m stoned.”

You don’t even attempt to stifle the giggle. His eyes are round and his neck’s falling into his shoulders. A defence mechanism he’s well versed in because he knows it gets you in the feels. The jagi too.

“Yeh and this is how you paint when you’re stoned,” he eyes the work he’s made like your words have got him curious, like he’s never seen the capability of a weed induced state on canvas, “your lines get all boxy.”

He shifts, putting criticism to the test as he takes in his artwork from a new vantage point. In the meantime, the final joint lays naked and unused, almost sculpted like it was made for your fingertips. So you appease it’s calling and bringing tip to mouth, lighting the end until the embers begin to wisp away into smoke. Jeongguk breaths in like he wants it, but there’s an epiphany in sights instead.

“Mmm, it’s more like Picasso,” that’s my boy.

“Exactly!” 

“...Bob doesn’t accommodate for high people.” He takes the joint when you offer it. 

“Guk! That was a big word!” And he earns himself a kiss on the cheek, perhaps a hand to fiddle with his shoulders too, because those muscles aren’t gonna touch themselves. 

He drags long and hard. A third joint kind of high taking hold from where his eyes grow thinning and his posture caves into your touch. 

“Heard it on University Challenge,” you scoff at him. Since when was that on cable, “figure if I watch it enough I’ll be just as smart as them.”

“I’m not sure that’s how it works, bubs.”

Your hands grow fond of his skin, and it’s only when he leans away to trash the fumes away on a burnt out scrapped painting that you realise he finished all the weed. Guk’s a kid in a pram when it comes to sharing his green goods. He compensates with good sex though. 

And it’s where his mind lies - beneath the thin layer of your white painting top, a scrap piece of clothing donned for only the messiest of times. He seems to find inspiration in the idea. 

“Jagi.” 

“Mmm,” the air buzzes somewhere between stoned and excited with how he eyes you. 

“Let me paint you like one of my Korean girls.” It’s said in a tone laced with enough lust that you ignore the reference and are turned on by the novelty of being painted. And you know he doesn’t mean Jack and Rose kind of style.

You offer him a smirk. 

“How d’you want me.” 

Jeongguk nips at his bottom lip and lets his mind and dick go wild at the thought of free reign. The contemplating drags on, but when his eyes settle on how your pussy lies just south of the hem of your shirt, he’s struck a vision.

“Back, legs spread, and shirt off- wait, no, actually, shirt on.” 

He’s easy to comply with in the circumstances of things stoned and shirtless.

Your head is light, limbs soft when they stretch against the carpeted floor and you’re so prepared to be a canvas you’re wondering if maybe Bob had turned you on a little. And everything grows that bit more ambient, strewn into background noise. The paints you’d used now only exist with purpose of your skin, the Sam Cooke vinyl, now on its fifth round, is merely a melody to curl your toes to and the chiaroscuro lighting serves for the curve of your cheekbones only.  

He’d call you artwork if only it did you justice. 

“It’s cold.” He readies you.

His forth fingertip is crimson red. You think it’s a tester for temperature until he runs it down your thigh. A bold stroke for a starting place, but Jeongguk was never shy with paints.

“Mmm, yeh, cold.” 

“You like it?” He asks like he wants to be in tune with you.

“I can get to like it.” 

What you mean is you can get to like your boyfriend, in his half naked glory, playing temperature torture on your skin. 

He’s beautiful like this. A little lost in the high, but even deeper in the depths of you and your body and your lips and how you lay for him. A shy boy at first now with the pick of the litter. And he’ll take his pick wisely.

“So pretty.” You’ve got enough understanding to writhe in the praise, “Can I ruin your top?”

You are high, careless and ultimately curious. 

“Yeh,” and the shirt was fucked anyways. 

He pulls up the palette next to him, drawing a sketch with his eyes because paint doesn’t allow for takebacks and twiddles the brush in circles with practised ease. 

“Close your eyes for me?” 

“Ey?” You question. 

“Please, just, for now.”

And you’ll blind yourself for the sake of surprise, but now you’re sure you’ll just end up playing guess the drawing through touch alone, a mimic of what Jeongguk does on your naked spine in the mornings when you’re allowed a lie in. 

It’s cold, he’s right, that first stroke. And it dances close to where your breasts hang. 

“Can I touch you down there too?” 

OH fuck yes. Multitasking you can get on board with. 

“Please.”

He’s straight to it. A quirk on the line he was painting down you because suddenly he’s got you pleading and wet in unintentional places. 

“You plead so nicely for me, jagi. So good.” You gush to the tune of his native tongue.

It’s all at once. An overload of the senses. Sam Cooke a soulful prayer in time with your boyfriends hum. There’s a perfect juxtaposition of nimble fingers on your clit and a flat planed brush streaking unabashedly on the cotton against your nipples. It’s cold and hot and light and dark and everything in between. It’s sexy. 

You delve headfirst into the pleasure of it all, throwing an arm over your eyes and allowing the moans to spew and your body to convulse a little every time you’re hit with a newly loaded brush. Your body brews up a tempest and yo-

“DONE!”

Oh. 

You’re panting. Soaked to the bone beneath your silk panties, and when you open your eyes, everything is in disarray. 

The lust felt when in the thrones of your imagination is suddenly scattered, albeit, Jeongguk still looks like a feast. Because Sam Cooke doesn’t sound so harmonic and your skin doesn’t glow as bright when you assess the masterpiece you’d been distracted by. 

“YOU GAVE ME PICASSO TITS!”

Fucking Picasso tits! 

You’re horrified. And Jeongguk looks like he’s won the lottery. 

“Yeh. Jagi! Abstact!” 

“It’s abstract…” you whine.

Tugging and pulling at the hem of the cotton in some attempt to render the mess undone is your stress ball . Something to help it or just unsee it. Anything. But it’s useless, because the display is etched in primary colours only, a demand for attention that your Vanish Ultra won’t even touch the sides on.

Your eyes fume when they meet his crescents, “and you gave me square tits you freak! I have perfectly good tits, underneath, and this top was clean before you violated it!” 

There’s enough rage in you to stand and peel the wet shirt from your body, only to find a coloured imprint on your skin and bra that seeped through the thin fabric. Pick a younger man, they said. It’ll be fun, they said. Hildy can shove fun up her ass.

“Baby, it’s kind of funny.” 

“Its not- its-,” he’s laughing. You’re exasperated. Both high. And maybe Hildy had a point once you let go of the burdens of sensibility and just crave what he’s having. Go, fat, high, fun. 

“Gukkkkkkk.” So you end up whining. And, you don’t resist when he’s off his feet and drowning you in his chest, muscles vibrating to the tune of his giggles. 

“Like, now, whenever we Bob Ross paint, I get to be reminded of the time I squared off your boobs then sexed you real good.”

You scoff from under his armpit, but refuse to depart from the embrace. He’s got a sweaty smell you only like on him and there’s nothing like Jeontits in your face. 

“Never Bob Ross painting again and you’re not sexing anything, perv.” 

“No?” 

“Mm-hm,” he giggles over your dramatic head shaking, a true fan of you when he’s got you swaddled and in that high happy place. Jeongguk also, whilst he won’t admit it, likes owing you something. Likes poking and prodding at your sensitivity until he’s got something to make up for - he’s a people pleaser, what can he say. 

So it’s a kiss here and a peck there. A mouthed map from shoulder to jaw before you’re the one to shift until your mouths align. 

“I’mhard y’know.” Tongue deep into yours because he’s got nothing to hide.

“Mmm, and you’ll stay that way.” 

But he really is oh so hard. His sweats hold little surprise under the surface because Jeongguk forgoes underwear on his days off and there’s a perk to his chest from his lunchtime weights set. It’s a self control that the weed in your brain isn’t quite abiding to.

“Jagi, come on,” the way his stance has a gain on your height means he can find friction where your groin lays. The perfect snuggle for his length to cant up into. He’s teasing himself, and pining for the quirk in you that’ll have him squirming later. 

“Guk. You’ve stained my top. You’re not about to cum on my La Perla panties.” Yet he’s driving himself deeper into a painful withdrawal. And he can’t wait. 

“You wore them without anything on your legs. You should know the risk,” his lips dance from collarbones to shoulder as he indulges in your skin, “You get me so hard, Jagi. So hard it hurts,” he’s biting whilst he ruts, “yet you tease me. How can you do that?” 

Your resolve won’t crumble, but you may indulge a little. Press encouragement beneath his boxers and under the small of his back so he can carry himself away in the friction. He glows in it. 

“Urgh, god.” 

“Mmm, you still can’t cum you know that.” 

Frantic. He nods frantic, and rolls his eyes back harder. He’s got balls so tight from the weed induced delusion that he’s lost in, but he knows you’ll have them blue and him mewling soon.

“Want it.” Submissive Korean sounds almost too good on him. He bows into your shoulder and grunts words, understandable in content, but so much more in context. An unfiltered, raw need he can only express in his way. 

You almost give in. 

Almost.

“Jeongguk, stop- stop.” He stills, and is pliable enough that you can cup his jaw tightly and meet him at eye level where he’s hazy. There’s a smirk nestled deep too because you let him go this far.  And you got riled up in the process. 

You eye him. Hairs flicking out from the thin headband he donned for painting and painting only. There’s a shine on his skin you can’t ignore and he’s so damn beautiful when he glows with want. Your man. A ‘my eyes only’ specimen except you get to touch. 

So you do, hands to peck that draw up and down until you play peek a boo with his tip between the flap of his sweats. It’s the crimson that stains your thigh and the glossy look he’s edged himself to. You’re ravenous. 

“Jagi, don’t just look. I’m dying here.”

You take one final glance, watch it bob when your nails scrape his abs and then quirk a look his way. 

“Mmm, I’m still angry at you.” You’re not. Not really and never were. Just wanted something on him so you’d have him like you do now:

“Take it out on me” He doesn’t stutter. Doesn’t smile, smirk or indicate humour. Ready to risk it all. 

“Lie on the sofa how you want it then… and them,” you once over the material on his legs with your finger, “off.”

He’s so compliant when he’s hard and no one will ever find you complaining at the notion. 

There’s easles to dodge and paints that threaten to brim onto the wooden floors, but your apartment never had ‘perfect’ written on the lease, so you’ll let him settle his clothes haphazardly - teetering on messy. 

You follow the path he’s strewn, bra off to join his boxers, until you settle your knees against his, shadow elongated on his face by the direction of the sunlight and hair swept over to one shoulder. His eyes follow your curves. 

“Will you touch me now?” He’s craving and the concept has your mind whirling and eyes stuck on where he’s hard. You’ve only now come to notice the way he sits on his hands, wrists dug into the sofa from the pressure of his thighs. Filthy. It’s filthy that he edges himself for sport. 

With a twitch at the side of your mouth because there’s a million and one different ways to have him crying, you descend so skin is on skin and he’s captive to you. Drunk in the way he looks. Nervous in the way his dick twitches. 

“How d’you want me to touch you?” 

“Any way, fuck, any way.. Please.” The pleasantries aren’t necessary. He’s at your mercy physically but this boy’s got a hold on you like no other, enough that what Jeongguk wants, Jeongguk gets.

“Here?” His dick is expecting when he sees your hand move in his peripherals. It’s sure and ready for your touch. But then you moan. Eyes roll back just like when he touches your cl-, “Is here good, Guk?” 

“Oh fuck.” You’re two fingers deep and a palm to your clit. He’s taken note in the way you touch yourself before, mutual masturbation a 2 month-in kind of job, but this is different. Your pussy makes him salivate and the way you touch yourself makes him feel all too primitive. Like he’s never heard a girl moan before. “Jagi. Come on.”  

It’s so damn hot to you that his dick sits there untouched, hips still glued as though he’s unaffected. You’re tuned in, though, to those things that tell you otherwise. The strain on his neck from where his bottom jaw clenches. English sidelined because he can’t think straight. His dick bobbing every time you hit an upstroke into yourself and the squelch rings out. He’s so damn horny, but he’ll wait on you. Knows seeking the end untouched is like drinking water after parching in the desert. 

“So beautiful. You’re so beautiful. The way you touch yourself is beautiful too.” His eyes are fluttering and he can’t look away from you. It has you shamelessly moaning. “God I’m hard.”

You laugh, knuckle deep and feel the spasm of your walls. He’s really hard with precum immodest and when you meet his eyes again he’s vulnerable, too thirsty, maybe, for what he’s subjected himself to.

You’re left wanting, “I really wanna taste.”

“Jesus.” Jeongguk whispers under his breath, throws his head back for good measure because he’s got a visual before the main course has even happened. “You can’t be so shameless, it has me thinking things.” Vivid, things. 

And his imagination plays out in real time when you descend onto the wooded floor. He stutters, splutters on his tongue when you’ve got long nails all up in his groin.

“F-fu- wait, Jagi, wait wait wait, jagi.” You’re an inch off, breath catching his tip and so close you can smell him. God you want a taste. “I’m- You can’t just.”

Ohhhh. 

“You’ll cum?”

He’s not ashamed, embarrassed or anything in between. Just the longing for more, eating away at him, and knowing he’s a gonner in less than a minute if you’re to lick him. 

“Just, fuck, Y/N. Just kiss me.”

You do. The head of his dick too appealing not to offer a peck to. 

“Fuck.” He hisses it between his teeth and seeks refuge under an arm as to not concern himself with the way your tits look under him. “Not ther-” but not all cravings can be fixed, and you’ve got a mouthful. 

His hand jerks out from where it situates beneath him. The dilemma as to whether his dick can handle the back of your throat, seemingly easier to combat if he can claw at his thighs. But you’ve fallen into a rhythm despite the discomfort of hard floorboards and empty walls, and he’s keening for it, low moans and harsh breaths when your throat constricts. 

“Jagi, I real- oh shit, I really might cum.” You want him to. But the look that glazes over him when he’s edged is too good to wait for. Hit hits your throat deep, “fuck fuck fuck fuck,” hands thrown into your hair because he thinks maybe he wants you to stop.

But there’s the edge, and for a second he thinks he’s too far past it, balls tightened and his chest caves at the promise of lodging a load in your throat. 

“Fuck!” You’re off him and shuffled back before he can cry wolf. Jeongguk helplessly grasps at his base, and screws his eyes tight to curb the feeling of blood rushing everywhere. 

You’ve got a vantage point like no other. A vista genuinely for the ‘my eyes only’. 

His chest violently rises and falls and his thighs shake at the same rate. It’s hard to reserve yourself from kissing up his legs, so you don’t, soft nips where the seam of his trousers would run and even though he was driven to maximum sensitivity, he wants you as close as you are.

You litter the expanse of his body until he can vent the lost orgasm into your mouth. A rage of tongues and spit that has your centre warm again. But he mellows out into you and plays seduction. 

“Jagi.”

“Mmm,” you speak amongst the twine of lips. 

“Let me kiss you.. Down there.” His eyes plague with sincerity. A wholehearted desire to taste you and taste you again, and you’re one to oblige. 

The sofa, whilst a two generation hand-me-down, offers more comfort than the floor and you bask in being pampered when Jeongguk lowers your front to it, situating a littered pillow below you to accentuate the curve of your back. Your behind sits bare with panties discarded and you look beautiful enough he’ll tell you. 

“Look at your body Jagi. How can you be mine?”

It’s unnerving being like this. Subject to alien words and a stare you can’t dilute. But it’s a package deal and Jeongguk doesn’t take long to offer the incentive. 

“Smell nice too.”

He traces the curve of your back with his palm the same way he strokes you between your legs. Fluid and warm and...

“Goddd, that’s good.”

Jeongguk basks in all things praise. An inflation to his own high. So he hums approval into you as you begin to writhe. 

You bite back the urge to push into him and seek a salacious end, frantic in the heat of lust, but Jeongguk keeps a controlled hold on you and eases the pressure away from the good spots, just so it’s better when he comes back for more. 

“Mmmm, good, good there.” Where he’s spreading you and planting muscle deep. He doesn’t resist the temptation to go north either and explore tighter areas, and he hums a smile when he garners an entirely different noise from you because, fuck, that’s sensitive.

“Jeongguk, oh- I might cum.”

“Yeh?” He’s in you and around you and kneading at your cheeks like he’s rallying himself up. He is. Running his body in time with your movement so there’s a subtle rut to edge himself to.

“Yeh.”

“I want that. Bad.”

You’re loud and knocking on the door of something breathtaking, now that he’s left romance for dead. He wants you to cum, and hard 

Fumbling an arm behind you until you can grapple onto the hairs of his head does little to prevent the sensation, the quaking and the tightening. He’s sinking a thumb against your rim and a tongue in your pussy and you indulge in it all.

“Shitshit oh my fucking god.” 

He moans when you strike gold and pulse from every point of your being. Entrapped in that disembodied feeling where everything’s too good and all at once. It lags and Jeongguk’s hands purchase hard when you clench on his tongue. 

“Shit.”

He lets you down easy though, mindful of all of the places that could be a cause for over-sensitivity - save that for another day - and nuzzles into your thigh. 

The need to move lingers whilst you carry yourself away into the thrones of exhaustion, mind fizzing as you boyfriend sucks the meat of your ass with tempt. He’s wanting and you’ve got a craving to see him cum, but everything's numb. 

“Jagi.”

“Mmm.” 

You feel him before see him crawling up you, his front flush to you just as a means of exaggerating where he lays hard and in wait. He let you edge him and made you cum, a cause for a gold star among other things, so you flip over, careful not to knock him where it hurts, and pull at the straggling hairs the band can’t accommodate for. 

“I want you. I want you really bad.” He feels selfish for feeling like it’s his right to claim an end. But there’s a genuine cause for concern that he’s been hard for so long, and will be as long as you lay bare and beautiful, and the biology of the situation isn’t just coincidental with his want. 

But he kisses you soft and the sense of obligation dissipates into the desire to see him undone. 

“You gonna fuck me?” He’s desperate to, and you laying pliant beneath him has his lust escalating quickly. 

“Yes, yesyesyes jagi.” But as to not cum to quick he settles into stroking his length between where you’re wet. The sensitivity has lessened, but the rush of blood still is a cause for a grimace. Jeongguk kisses it out of you, settling into a rhythm of tongue then teeth then tongue then teeth. You’re lost enough, he’s sinking into your walls unhinged. 

“Fuck.”

“God, how can you feel like this every time.” He’s driven to the edge of insanity with every feel of your walls, like a first time every time, uncharted territory he wants to explore as soon as he’s explored. 

You grapple from the sweaty hairs that line his neck to where his muscles contract and sink now that he’s easing you into compliance. Not that it wasn’t easy to. But your walls, spent previously, make the glide a little harder in the promise that it’ll make him cum quick. 

“You good? This good?” He caters for you in a strained plea. 

“Amazing. God. A little faster.”

He’s sure to combust, purchasing his mouth on your neck and choking grunts into the skins there when his hips begin to snap and balls begin to ring an echo onto the four walls.

“Fuck jagi. Thank you. God, thank you.” He prays to your pussy as his abs clench in the knowledge that he’s teetering on the edge. Every run against you has him keening. 

“Hold me.” He nestles his cheek to your hair until your breaths are synced, “don’t cum yet. Please, god-hm,” you choke, “don’t cum.”

“Oh god, oh god,” he’ll get you there, but he’s sweating out the urge to spill into you. He wants to see you done, hear you moan, have you every kind of euphoric. So he licks his thumb quick and has it in between you and on your clit quicker. A pressure and nothing more because he knows what hurts you. 

He’s hissing at the strain, but you’re left in hopeless moans. 

“Cumming, baby, cu- fuck.” There’s nothing stopping the assault of your walls on him as everything tightens and then releases. You quiver into him. 

“Oh, you got so tight. Fuckfuck, oh god.” Jeongguk gives into it, too, when his body shudders and he pulls you tight, “ah,” spilling everything and it’s so hot but he’s heady enough that none of it matters. 

You bask in that feeling for however long, lulling his shakes with a trail of nails through his hair down to his back, and nuzzle where your cheeks meet. 

His back rises and falls and rises and falls and it’s all things soothing. 

So you whisper lowly, “Guk.”

He shifts fractionally and huffs at the exertion of it all, body pliable and soft in and around you.

“Baby, we can’t fall asleep here.”

You know he’ll ask for a few more minutes, the true post orgasm baby that he is. 

“Just a few more minutes.” 

You laugh in the way of your predictable boy and snuggle him further now that he’s cocooned, the tingles in your toes eases and he might lay heavy on you but it’s comforting that his body moves to the puff of your chest. It’s like watching the clouds in the sky morph from one figure to another. Like the soft ticking of a metronome. Like counting sheep. And it’s easy to let ‘just a few more minutes’ trickle on and on. 

What Jeongguk wants, Jeongguk gets. 

[wangxiandecoded]

Episode 9

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(Spoilers for the whole show ahead!)

Lan Zhan remembers what Wei Ying had mentioned about the puppets the first night at Cloud Recesses showing he remembers quite a lot about him, he just doesn’t let on.

NHS is a big mood in this scene, an absolutely useless gay depending on two warrior gays to save his life. But he’s hindering their flawless team work so Lan Zhan uses the silencing spell on him.

This dialogue is so uncalled for and delivered in a way that makes you think Wei Ying just wants to see Lan Zhan have an outburst, kick back and admire how hot that is.

Wei Ying’s “you can go ahead and blame me for everything that is wrong with this world but my man has done nothing wrong in his life ever” smile.

You didn’t have to expose him like that but thank you, Jiang Cheng.

Wei Ying’s “sorry I accidentally did a hetero thing, let us please not remember this for the sake of my clean conscience” smile.

Yet Another Plot Device To Show Off Wangxian’s Chemistry

The Dire Owl subplot is one of the dreamiest scenes on the show and a fight sequence that proves Wangxian own the patent for words like soulmates, symmetry, equilibrium, balance, yin and yang, mirrors and their derivatives.

Here’s something that’s bothered me : Wei Ying calls for Lan Zhan twice and he doesn’t answer him the first time even though he looks searchingly in his direction. It is only when they knock into each other the second time that he explains the fog is a hallucination caused by the Dire Owl. (But of course Lan Zhan doesn’t need to answer him, the red string of fate will inevitably help them find the other.) 

Clear-headed as he is, did he for a second believe that the Dire Owl was making him hallucinate Wei Ying’s voice the first time, and is that why he ignored him? Because Lan Zhan’s mind could be the spotless sea of tranquillity it is, but Wei Ying has now become the shrillest thought that breaks through and demands his attention. He doesn’t respond though, so he must have been sure Wei Ying is safe.

For Lan Zhan, Wei Ying will do even the impossible. He’ll try his best to seal off all his senses and mute his head that’s forever brimming with thoughts. 

Ok, pause. I cried when I watched this for the first time and let me tell you why. The implications of this fight scene are astounding. We all know Wangxian are soulmates who can confront anything together but did we know that they could feel and find their way to each other even when their senses are completely shut? I mean, how attuned to someone’s existence do you have to be to achieve that? They are hyper focusing on nothing but the Dire Owl and yet moving perfectly with eyes closed in an outrageously impressive synchrony. They can feel the other’s presence and have utmost trust in each other to shield their direction. They move as if they’ve spent infinite lifetimes by the other’s side mastering this skill; they leap, spin and swerve like they think with the same mind. The way they fit together is to die for, nearly impossible and the legendary stuff from stories that we all wish we could have with someone in this existence. If I was whatever that stood in Wangxian’s way, I’d be terrified and call it a day. They are not just soulmates, they are The Original Formidable Soulmates™. 

Wangxian Are Here To Kick Queerbaiters In The Ass

This fantastic display of battle prowess by the two heroes fighting back-to-back is one of the many things that convinced me The Untamed is not like the other stories out there. Simply because every stop of their journey is too romantic and the others don’t come close enough. It is an injustice to compare or group their relationship with the ‘dude bro, no homo’ chemistry that bromances usually sell. Lan Zhan and Wei Ying are two people who are so passionately devoted to and absolutely belong with each other, they are soulmates not just in the minds of the audience or because the creators were afraid to make them something more, but soulmates by their own admission. There are other factors that strengthen their already supergay case like the absence of a female love interest in their lives and their flirty interactions being genuinely adorable as heck, as opposed to just isolated instances of b(romance). And it really, really, helps our case that the novel is canonically gay but it is also remarkable that a show that’s teeming with gay subtext can exist at all and go on to become one that is widely embraced by everyone, casual watchers and shippers alike. 

Lan Zhan and Wei Ying's chemistry gives all the Western superheroes a run for their money. We no longer have to wonder what it looks like when two queer heroes who are in love get to kick ass together. See, this is what happens when you have the guts to invest in a gay romance. This show looked censorship in the eye and said gay rights anyway. (I’m going to digress from this show for a sec and just plainly weep for all the queer pairings on mainstream media that we shipped but couldn’t see the light of day because of the homophobic people behind them. It is great that the truth still lives in our hearts and the millions of words on ao3. But life feels a lot sweeter to know with certainty that our heroes are in love this time and celebrate the fact that the people who made this show knew and honoured that very well, that they honoured the audience. In my eyes, CQL is the unparalleled forefather of gay romance from now on. Because reading these epic queer stories is one thing but watching Wangxian’s story unfold along with the entire world means believing in the power of gay love. And seeing our favorite heroes in action makes the characters we look up to so much more real.)

Lan Zhan comes flying like the Prince Charming he is to break the shackles of heteronormativity trying to kill his soulmate! Hell yeah, king! Save us from that straight trope that’s been choking us since time immemorial.

We did not just see Wei Ying pretend to be dead so he can outsmart the bird and simultaneously get Lan Zhan to save him just because he likes that sort of thing. Nope, totally didn’t happen. 

Oh, hello Ah Yuan! Details like this prove the show is well worth multiple rewatches.

There is nothing more uniquely Wangxian than the million thoughts they share with each other through mere glances, the frequency of which steadily increases. Who knew you could speak with zero articulation? Not having a soulmate sure sucks for the rest of us mortals. I doubt the audience can truly grasp the depth of their communication but I’m pretty sure it goes like this most of the time. 

Wei Ying teasing Lan Zhan that the Goddess Statue tried to kill him because she had a crush on him is all kinds of hilarious. Lan Zhan looks somewhere in between “Wei Ying, we’re talking about the fate of the universe, stop being gay for 2 seconds please,” and "STFU, just because I can find my way to you blind doesn't mean I will hesitate to Silence you again."

Wei Ying Is Crumbling All Of Lan Zhan’s Walls

Most people maintain their distance from Hanguang-Jun, the Noblest Of Them All, he whose robes command respect and inspire fear. There is hence something very sweetly domestic about Wei Ying latching on to his silk tassel while subtext-whining, "Where are you going Lan Zhan, I refuse to live without you", and "Ugh Lan Zhan, you're so lost without me, ok fine, I'll help you.” It’s like he granted himself the lifetime entitlement of being Lan Zhan’s nuisance-companion the night they met, and thank goodness for that because Lan Zhan wasn’t going to let anyone into his life. Wei Ying is the exception who managed to charm his way into his heart and dissolve his barriers.

Notice Wei Ying even turns down free alcohol for Lan Zhan. And the sheer undisguised panic on his face that Lan Zhan is going to leave him alone after all the bonding activities he made sure they went through is endearing comedy at its peak. 

We see Lan Zhan no longer believes resolutely in His Ways and lets Wei Ying persuade him to believe there is a better one. This is a great 𝙙𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙡𝙤𝙥𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩 for them because they’re communicating.

Lan Zhan doesn’t fight him anymore, period. 

The Yin Iron starts acting up and Wei Ying is immediately there for Lan Zhan, gently grounding him. He can feel the horror and pain Lan Zhan has seen in the vision because of course he can. But does Lan Zhan see how much Wei Ying loves him and hurts for him? He has to. In moments like this, Wei Ying’s presence shows how wrong Lan Zhan is in wanting to do everything alone. We all need a friend in life. And it was destiny that led them to each other because their lives would’ve evidently been a lot lonelier without the other in it. 

Episode 9 shows Lan Zhan warming up to Wei Ying some more : he has stopped being antagonistic altogether, lets Wei Ying pull him around, freely accepts his help, shares many glances with him and is ready to blast anything that lays a finger on Wei Ying sky high. (Of course we see that Wei Ying exaggerates needing his help most of the time. He plays the “I’m a frail man desperately in need of Hanguang-Jun’s protection” card because swooning into the arms of his lover is one of his favorite things. And not even Lan Zhan calls him out for it. They’re just so whipped for each other.)