#I sincerely wish that my abilities matched the ideas in my head

[lillaluna]

Hi!! :) Congratulations on your 100 followers! I just found your blog thanks to your pantalone tag and like your stuff! Can I request Pantalone please? 23. “I might have slept with your shirt while you were gone.” (reader saying it) feel free to do a normal or spicy/adult version as you wish :))

Hi, thank you so much, it's my pleasure as I really like Pantalone too!

Pairing: Pantalone x f!Reader

That evening, Pantalone crossed the threshold of his room in his mansion after a long absence, noticeably disposed to take a break from the fuss he was going through on his trip.

Throwing his travelling cloak on the back of a chair, which showed his affiliation with the Fatui organisation in the best possible way. Pantalone pulled the elastic band from his hair with a soft but precise movement. The raven-coloured hair fell silently down the Harbinger's back, and he closed his eyes in satisfaction for only a moment.

Pantalone was a self-confident man, whose confidence was already disgusted by his every move. Businesslike and always tired of the continuous race for success, he rarely stopped for a while to rest and enjoy the moment. And such a moment was right now…

Hoping to spend a quiet evening unbuttoning his clothes, Pantalone headed for the closet. Opening it, the man's eyes fell on an empty hanger where his favorite shirt used to be. His heart began to beat with an incomprehensible force.

"How is this possible?" thought Pantalone, he had always sincerely and deservedly considered himself a pedantic man. He remembered exactly where he had left this or that thing, so this situation at least surprised him.

Turning away from the closet, Pantalone looked around his room. Everything was as it always was, except for the slightly rumpled bed and something lying on the blanket.

The Harbinger's heart beat faster when he realized that someone had been in his room in his absence. He decided to check, and his fears turned out to be based on the harshest reality. When he got to his bed, he realized that the shirt he hadn't found in the closet was lying on it.

As if sensing with a sixth sense that the situation in the room had changed, Pantalone heard a soft laugh, which sent a wave of warmth through his entire body, which was still unusual for him. The dark-haired man turned and his gaze fell on you standing in the doorway with a shy smile on your face.

"Hello," you said with a soft laugh, but your excitement betrayed how timidly you were shifting from one foot to the other. "You're probably surprised that I'm here?"

Pantalone remained motionless, his eyes never leaving you. He was amazed that you were so violating his understanding of the norms and boundaries of relationships. His face expressed mixed feelings, amazement and admiration. You were a man who violated all his usual boundaries and standards, but Pantalone was captivated by your individualism and ability to live by your own rules. You destroyed his ideas of what a relationship should be, but at the same time you filled his world with brilliant colors and new opportunities.

"Yes, I'm surprised," Pantalone finally said in a surprisingly calm tone that didn't match what was going on inside him. "Did I miss something?" the man asked, glancing at his shirt lying on the bed, and then returning to you.

You smiled even wider, and the Harbinger couldn't take his eyes off your beautiful face.

"Well, I… I might have slept with your shirt while you were gone," you admitted, seemingly apologizing for your actions. For all your spontaneity, you understood that not everyone might like such an action. "She smells like you, and it helps me feel your presence when you're not around."

Pantalone just stared at you in silence, experiencing the many emotions that pierced him. Something new and incomprehensible arose in his soul – a feeling for a girl born in his absence, when his charming half admitted that she had pulled off his shirt and slept in it during his absence.

"I do not know how to react to this," Pantalone admitted, trying to cope with the seething emotions. It was so new to him, completely incomprehensible, and just as pleasant. Wavering between joy and fear, these new feelings they seemed so light and gentle, but the fearless Harbinger was also afraid that he might lose what he had just begun to feel. "But to be honest, the thought makes my heart flutter."

You entered the room and walked up to Pantalone from behind, wrapped your arms around his waist. Your touch was light and comforting. Together you stood there, breathing slowly, enjoying a moment of calm and intimacy.

"I was afraid you'd get angry. I understand that this may seem strange to you," you whispered, clinging to the back of the dark-haired man. "But this is probably my most honest way to show that you are special to me."

Pantalone finally smiled. His thin cool fingers found your small palms on his torso and he covered them with his hands.

"Angry? How can I be angry when you give me such a wonderful gift?" The Harbinger said softly, gently stroking your hands and listening to how you breathe. "Nothing can replace personal presence," Pantalone continued, "and if you're comfortable sleeping in my shirt, then I'm glad it fills that gap when I'm not here."

[tirsynni]

BIG agree about their relationship; I really love their dynamic and how they're equals to each other, the way few others are, so more of that pls! and 'feud' might have been the wrong word to use re what I meant about RE:V. more like, I personally felt that leon's question to chris and chris' answer wasn't quite resolved? which feels important bcs that question seems to embody where each characters head is at atp in time and they didn't seem to reach an understanding at the end. idk, thoughts?

I agree with you there: the ending drove me nuts. It felt like Leon was asking a serious question and Chris was too busy riding the high of victory (and adrenaline) to pay any real attention to the question, nonetheless provide a sincere answer. When Chris answers with a joke, Leon goes along with it and tries to match the more relaxed mood, and I doubt he brings it up again.

These are bits of conflict that I really, really wish I saw more in fics: Chris and Leon are so dramatically different when it comes to experiences and perspectives. People write fics where the conflict is that they hate each other (see my previous posts on why I hate that) when this conflict is already there. These two absolutely trust each other but their views on the world are so insanely different, and the end of Vendetta shows how it can present problems in their relationship, whether you make it romantic or platonic.

Chris has always been in some position of authority, power, and independence. He's always had the ability to fight and, possibly more importantly, react. When he's done with one fight, yeah, there's probably more fights in the future, maybe even related to this current fight, but he's pretty much done. He's a soldier, a fighter. Organizations like TerraSave handle the clean-up. Other divisions of the BSAA probably help with the clean-up, too, and probably investigations. But in this situation, with Arias, once Arias was defeated, Chris's part was probably done. Debriefings, yeah, but I doubt much else and I doubt that he deals with any significant repercussions from his more dramatic actions. He has the freedom to go after and fight his enemies. He has the power and authority to face minimal repercussions. He gets the victory from defeating Arias and I doubt he has to deal with any of the other issues involved with having a battle in a major city like that: the bloody, nasty aftermath is not his problem.

Leon? From the beginning, he's been involved in an uphill battle. He's had very, very few clear-cut victories. Leon definitely has power and authority by the time we see him in Vendetta but there's always a sword over his head. He's not a soldier working with fellow soldiers like Chris: his first day of work involved him shooting the people who should have been his coworkers, shooting the people who put up a welcome banner for him, and then he's tossed into a viper's nest. He's forced to work for same government that bombed Raccoon City or they kill a little girl. He's surrounded by enemies with no idea who to trust, and often when he does trust someone, he's betrayed later. In Damnation, when he thinks he's making the right choices and fighting the good fight, he discovers at the end that it was a set up from the start. Leon always sticks with his morals and beliefs, and that has to be exhausting when he can't just go "I believe THIS so I'm going to do THIS and I'm going to have a clear victory from it." In his position, he has to bend and be creative and think long-term instead of aiming for an immediate victory. It sounds exhausting with minimal relief in sight.

Chris is a captain and a soldier; Leon is a weapon and a spy. Chris is surrounded by his fellow soldiers, people he can trust. Leon is either alone or with a possible enemy. This has been the status quo for them for over a decade. Just think about that: there is a fifteen-year difference between RE2 and RE6. Leon was just old enough to drink in RE2. By Vendetta, he's edging closer to 40 and Chris is around 40. Years of living like that has to sink deep into the bone. Can Leon even remember how idealistic he was in RE2? Can he relate anymore or is RE2!Leon a complete stranger now? I imagine there's been a hell of a shift for Chris, too, but for him? The core has never really changed.

Vendetta begins and ends with Chris and Leon being in similar positions with dramatically different outlooks. They face tragedies at the beginning. Chris responds with rage and charging forward, determined to stop Arias no matter the cost, including dragging Rebecca and Leon into it. Seriously, neither Rebecca or Leon probably should have been involved and probably wouldn't have been cleared for duty if it wasn't for certain high-level people pushing for it. Leon's position is less clear-cut. Again he was betrayed. Again he was helpless to protect people under his watch. He's exhausted, hiding, licking his wounds, and Chris doesn't respond well to that because the enemy is clear to him when to Leon, the enemy has never, ever been clear. At the end, Chris is cheered by his victory. He had targeted Arias, and now the battle is done. Yay! Leon's exhausted. He knows this isn't the end. He knows that, yes, they defeated one bad guy, but the mess went so much deeper than just Arias.

So Leon asks a serious question and Chris can't hear it and Leon doesn't ask again. Like you see him in previous movies and games, Leon goes quiet and just smiles and hides a thousand secrets behind his teeth while Chris, clever as he is, never notices.

I would love the new movie to address this, but I'm not holding out hope. They like to present problems and not the solutions, which makes sense, as it leaves things open for future possibilities.

[incorrect-strq-quotes]

Who wants to hear a song that made me cry until like 3 am? Because Buy the Stars by Marina and the Diamonds made me think of Canon* STRQ (*mostly canon, at least, because I will ship Flown North/Hummingbird until my dying breath. So canon in a loose sense tbh). You can blame @dawnstar13 for how much angst and feels-wrenching stuff I'm handing y'all. It's absolutely her fault.

I wish that my artistic abilities matched the idea I have for a storyboard, or that I had enough free time to seriously practice, but I'm better at words than art so picture this:

With the idea of Flown North, this first part would be a quick flash of Qrow and Summer falling for each other...

You bought a star in the sky tonight Because your life is dark and it needs some light You named it after me, but I’m not yours to keep Because you’ll never see, that the stars are free

...but fast-forward on "but I'm not yours to keep" to Summer being killed. Shift to Qrow trying to cope with Summer being gone...

Oh we don’t own our heavens now We only own our hell And if you don’t know that by now Then you don’t know me that well

...perhaps Qrow giving Ruby to Tai before taking off on endless missions/self-destructive binges.

All my life I’ve been so lonely All in the name of being holy Still, you’d like to think you know me You keep buyin’ stars And you could buy up all of the stars, But it wouldn’t change who you are You’re still living life in the dark It’s just who you are It’s just who you are

Now, switch to Raven and Tai, happy and bright for this first line...

You bought a star in the sky tonight

...but then Raevn growing dark and distant for the second line...

And in your man-made dark

...and Raven all by herself and angry for the third.

The light inside you died

Raven with the bandits...

Oh we don’t own our heavens now We only own our hell And if you don’t know that by now Then you don’t know me that well

...and switch to Tai raising Yang all by himself.

All my life I’ve been so lonely All in the name of being holy Still, you’d like to think you own me You keep buyin’ stars And you could buy up all of the stars, But it wouldn’t change who you are You’re still living life in the dark It’s just who you are It’s just who you are

At the first "It's just who you are" Tai is looking up at a stary sky and at the second it fades to Raven looking up at the same stars (or smthn, idk).

Next two lines are maybe Qrow at Summer's grave and then Raven alone in her huge chief's tent?

You know only how to own me You know only how to own me

Then Qrow is noticing how much Ruby looks like Summer...

You’re buying stars to shut out the light We come alone and then we die And no matter how hard you try I’ll always belong in the sky

...and then maybe Raven's confrontation with Yang at Haven? And when the lyrics pick back up it would be Raven looking at Tai's house from the edge of the forest?

And you could buy up all of the stars, But it wouldn’t change who you are You’re still living life in the dark

And then Raven turns away and walks to Summer's grave...

It’s just who you are It’s just who you are

...and after a bit Taiyang walks up and stands next to her, and overlayed is a bunch of memories of STRQ when they were still one big happy family.

It’s who you are It’s who you are It’s who you are It’s who you are It’s who you are It’s who you are It’s who you are It’s who you are

...and then Raven takes Taiyang's hand (or vice-versa) and the whole thing fades to black I guess?

[mercy-burning]

Myth or Movie

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Unbeknownst to the two of them, Y/N and Spencer's children have worked up a plan to get them to meet... Category: SMUT (18+) Content: Strong language, oral sex (female receiving), penetrative/unprotected sex, someone is misgendered (nothing too bad, it’s very brief, and it’s sincerely apologized for by the person who misgenders) Word Count: 4.2k

MASTERLIST

NOTE: This is my 2nd entry for Pom’s ( @imagining-in-the-margins ) Enemies To Lover’s Writing Challenge! This one was one of the prompts she provided: You and (Character)'s kids don't get along, so you have to have a talk. Turns out you... really really get along... and I couldn’t wait to tackle it! I believe my exact words were: “I’m gonna Parent Trap these bitches”... So do with that what you will lol

———

"I'm so sorry I'm late!"

Two heads turn to stare at me as I burst through the doors. I'm out of breath from running through the building, something the staff really didn't seem to appreciate, though their shouts and annoyed glances were the last thing on my mind.

As I try to catch my breath, the two heads stand, and suddenly I feel a lot smaller.

One of them I recognize— Principal Anteros. I'd met with her before over some of Sky's academic achievements, all positive things, which is why today's circumstances make being in this office rather uncomfortable.

It's also why I seem to shrink with embarrassment at my tardiness— and appearance. Waitressing has its benefits, but today's whirlwind of phone calls and a mention at meeting another parent are not any of them.

Speaking of, the other person in the room is one I've never seen before. He's taller than both Anteros and I, extremely well dressed, and probably the most intimidatingly beautiful human being I'd ever met. I can barely meet his eyes, and so I try not to think about what he's doing here—to think about having to talk to him.

I shrink even further.

"Ms. Y/L/N," Principal Anteros greets. Thankfully she doesn't sound too upset given the circumstances. "Please, have a seat."

I do, brushing off my uniform as if that will somehow help my appearance. The soft leather of the chairs, however comfortable they might be, fail to bring me any comfort at all.

"As I'm sure you've guessed already, this is Doctor Reid, Vivian's father."

Great, he's a fucking doctor? This already bodes well for me...

Regardless of my reservations, I turn to him and give a faint smile. He waves in turn, and for the time being I'm extremely glad he doesn't insist on shaking my hand.

"It's nice to meet you," he says, surely nothing but a formality.

"You, too," I say quickly, then turn back to Principal Anteros. "Your phone call sounded urgent... Is everything alright?"

As soon as I say it, I feel kind of dumb. Because of course everything isn't alright. My child's principal called a meeting with another parent, and that can never mean anything good, not to mention the fucking intimidation and awkwardness in the room right now. I almost apologize, trying to explain that that wasn't exactly what I meant to get across, but then I would have just been talking for way too long, embarrassing myself further.

Once again, I'm thankful for Anteros's ability to move the conversation along. "I'm not sure, but it doesn't seem so. I only bring this to attention because Sky and Vivian are both stellar students. They've never had any disciplinary issues or difficulties with other students..."

"No one's hurt, right?" Mr. Reid asks. I know he's just concerned for his child, but for some reason it feels like an attack on me, like he assumes my kid had something to do with it.

"No, no one's hurt. Thankfully there weren't any physical altercations. But it seems your girls are quite... loud."

The doctor looks like he wants to say something, but I'm quick to jump in before he can. "Sorry... Sky is non-binary. They use they/them pronouns."

I half expect one or either of them to make a big deal or just roll their eyes at me, as most people seem to do when I correct them on the matter, but Anteros gives a sincere apology and Reid probably couldn't have cared any less.

I still can't tell if I like him or not...

But that doesn't matter right now.

"What do you mean by loud?" I continue.

Anteros sighs. "Well, while there hasn't been any physical violence, your kids seem to have very heated arguments, usually during lunch or in the hallway in passing... We thought maybe we could resolve it here since, like I said, they're both excellent students, but then it started escalating to classroom arguments... It's a lot of screaming..."

I have never known Sky to raise their voice at anyone, not even in a situation where I probably would have. Lord knows I'm thankful they don't have my impatience and tendency to get pissed off easily...

So what happened that was so bad, it made them snap?

"You... You're sure you mean Vivian is acting out like this?" Reid asks slowly, and I can't stop myself from laughing out loud.

"Come on, she's a professional. This has been going on for weeks, in her school, I'm sure she would know if it was your kid having a screaming match with someone else..."

This time Doctor Reid actually looks over at me, an eyebrow raised, and though I very much believe what I've just told him, the way he's looking at me right now drops my heart straight down to my stomach, like he's the principal and I'm the student acting out—No, it's worse than that... I feel like he's a disappointed parent, but not with Vivian, with me.

I avoid his intimidating stare and look down at the ground. "Sorry... I'm just... This isn't like Sky, either, I don't know what to do..."

"Well, usually when we have these sort of disputes, we like to have the students talk it out amongst themselves with a moderator present. But we've tried that, and it seems that they still haven't made any progress. Now, I know your children are good at heart, and it seems like you both are excellent parents— You know your children better than anyone here ever could. So, I'm proposing the two of you take a meeting some time and try to figure out how to settle this."

Seriously? If it hasn't been made clear already, this man is a doctor of some kind, planets away from my league in any capacity, and I can just picture the two of us in a screaming match close to what I imagine our children's looked like...

Maybe we can just e-mail.

"Okay," he agrees evenly, and I'm surprised he seems this calm considering I've just practically yelled at him... "I have free time this afternoon if you want to talk it over."

"I have to get back to work, but I get done at five," I sigh, wanting to get this over with. "Are you free then?"

"Mhm."

"Good," Anteros chirps, standing and leaving Doctor Reid and I to follow suit. "Perhaps over the weekend we can get this settled."

I sure as hell hope so.

———

"Ms. Y/L/N, wait!"

I have no idea what he could possibly want from me now that we've set a time and place to talk tonight, but I'm just praying desperately that he doesn't want to take this time alone in the parking lot to get back at me for accosting him in Anteros's office...

Thankfully, his face when he approaches seems rather kind.

"You can call me Y/N..."

"Right," he says, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets and nodding. "I'm Spencer."

"Spencer... So, um... Did you need something?"

"O—Oh, I just... I know you have to get back to work so I'll make this short, but I wanted to see if you wanted to do, uh... dinner tonight?"

"Excuse me?"

"Well, I just figured since we probably didn't expect for our weekend to go this way... We should make it worth it?"

"Are you really trying to turn this into a date?"

"W— No, not really, I just... You know, I thought it might be nice to... make this less like a chore, you know? A—And don't feel like you have to say yes, it was just a thought, I'm sorry if I made this weirder..."

The fact that I still can't figure this man out bothers me, but right now he's blushing, and he looks like he's trying to save himself from embarrassment, and it's so fucking adorable that I don't really care that I was just annoyed.

So I tell him, "Sure. Why not?"

"Really?"

"Yeah... Besides, Lord knows I haven't gone out for dinner in a long time."

The doctor is relieved, a smile creeping up on his lips that suddenly tugs at my insides and makes me wish for a second that it really is a date he's offering... "Okay, good. Do you want to meet at Waterstone, seven o'clock?"

The excitement starts to drain from me as he says it, followed by an incoming wave of embarrassment. "Oh, man, that... That place is kind of expensive, I don't—"

"Oh, it's okay, I'll pay for everything. I'll even wait outside for you so we can go in together if you'd like..."

Why he's being so nice to me I have no idea, but it's making my annoyance melt and my heart start to beat faster, and I really don't know how to feel about that. In fact I'm pretty sure it's weird as fuck given the circumstances.

But all I have to do is make it through this weekend, hopefully all will be back to normal, and I won't ever have to think about it ever again.

"Alright... It's a date."

———

Out of all the scenarios I'd pictured for the end of the night, this definitely had not been one of them.

I finished my shift at the diner, imagining on my drive home the look on his face when I inevitably showed up with something on my face or stained on my dress; Instead I showed up to Waterstone and was greeted with wandering eyes and showered with bashful compliments.

I expected to get into some type of argument about how each of our kids were better than the other or something, but we ended up talking through their traits with compassion, interest, and pride, all while agreeing that we just have to sit with them this weekend and explain that there are easier, better ways to sort out disagreements than screaming at each other in public.

I expected not to have much fun at all, but by the time we gathered the check and headed out the door, Spencer and I were laughing, just a little tipsy on Cabernet, our hands gently brushing and sparks shooting up my arm at the feeling.

I expected to go our separate ways and walk to my car and drive home, but instead he ended up telling me he was taking the Subway home, and I offered to give him a ride to the opposite side of town where I lived (Waterstone was right in the middle).

I expected to walk through the door, stumble straight up to bed, and sleep until Sky inevitably woke me up with them saying I've slept in too late and needed to get ready for work, but instead I ended up following Spencer up to his door to say goodnight.

And now we're at a fork in the road, and I can take one of two paths.

I can say goodnight, watch him walk in, and then go home and forget about this whole thing.

Or I can keep letting him stare at me until I find myself leaning in to kiss him. Whether or not he'll actually reciprocate is another story, but the little bit of wine tingling in the surface of my body and the dark, intense look in his eye gives me more courage than I've had since I met him.

Before I can make a move, Spencer talks, his voice small and inviting. "Do you want to come inside?" The beating of my heart quickens immensely as he takes another step forward and brings his fingers out to graze my chin. "Vivian's with her mom tonight."

Yes. Vivian's mom, who divorced Spencer pretty soon in the marriage after she just decided his job was too much to handle. He'd quit and took a teaching job, but even still, she declined his pleading to stay married and eventually admitted that she just wasn't in love with him anymore. At least she had the decency to let him have joint custody once his schedule cleared up, and it seemed like they were decent co-parents. Maybe even friends.

I think about Sky, how much they wish their dad had stayed, and how much I wish he had too. I was devastated when he left without anything more than a note. For years it took a huge toll on us, and I barely had the headspace to even think about dating anyone since then.

But here I am now, standing with this man who has also lost a spouse, who's somewhat of a single parent, and who seems kind and genuine enough that I don't think I'd have to worry about bringing him into the life of my child.

Though, I don't even know it'll go that far. I'm getting too far ahead of myself, and so to slow down I look at what's right in front of me. Right now.

Spencer looks at me like he wants to devour me. My whole body is tingling from head to toe. I want to kiss him, and I'm pretty damn sure he wants to kiss me back. He just invited me inside, which means that if I accept, we'll most likely end up sleeping with each other.

Again... Definitely not one of the scenarios I'd had in mind when I left the school today. But it's a damn good one, and he's so hot I want to cry.

My flirty switch turns on so fast, it nearly gives me whiplash. "And what are you gonna do if I say yes?"

"Depends... How badly do you want to walk tomorrow?"

My first instinct is to jokingly tell him to put me in a wheelchair, but I settle for kissing him instead, hoping that gives the same sentiment.

The way he melts into my body tells me I've succeeded. My arms fly up to his neck and pull him closer, and he holds me tightly to him, waiting for my lips to part so he can expertly slip his tongue past them.

I whine out and take a step towards the door. Spencer comes with me and fumbles with the keys in his pocket before reluctantly pulling away to get us inside.

Once we take our jackets and shoes off, he clings to me like static, drawn to me like a magnet, and I let him near without a second thought. Our lips find each other perfectly, like they've always meant to fit together. And as pieces of clothing come off on our way through the house and up to his bedroom, our limbs fit together just as well. Nothing is out of place.

Hell, I don't even remember how inferior to him I felt earlier in the day. Our jobs and lifestyles might seem like polar opposites, but for right now, the two of us are on very equal footing, coming together like it's always been meant to be.

I nearly fall apart when his fingers gather wetness from my cunt, just enough to tease me before pulling away and bringing them to his lips. I watch with a whine waiting on the back of my tongue as he slips his fingers past his mouth and sighs.

"More," is all he manages, and I want so badly to tease him—tell him how I know he can be more eloquent than that—but words are all lost on me too, when he drops to his knees and spreads me apart with ease. I have no choice but to reach behind and grip the foot-end of the bed as he works his tongue expertly against me.

Each of my sighs and whines are met with more avidity from him, taking the form of sharp flicks of the tongue over my clit, and once he adds his fingers to the mix, pumping them expertly inside me, I'm a fucking goner.

I come with a silent shout, clenching my thighs around his face and gripping the foot of the bed so tightly it feels like my hands might go numb.

Once my body loosens, Spencer gets up and kisses me, nearly knocking me over. I'm breathless and dizzy as the tang of my arousal coats my tastebuds. His hands are gentle despite the hunger in his lips, and the medley of sensations of all of these things has me weak in the knees.

"Getting harder to stand already, sweetheart?" he laughs, catching me as I fall into him. His hands clutch at my thighs and he carries me to the edge of the bed, crawling over top of me and kissing down my neck. "That's okay... I'll take good care of you."

I still can't manage to speak as he gently pushes in, the slow burn of him splitting me in two rendering me utterly incapable of even thought. I gladly welcome the pressure, especially once he's inside me all the way and lowering his body to mine. Our chests press firmly together as he pulls back and starts a steady pace with his hips. He traps me with his arms, bringing them to either side of my face. And when his fingers brush the hair from my eyes, he stares into them with intensity as he fucks me.

It's slow and hard. It's heart-pounding. It's earth-shattering. It's everything that makes sex worth having. In that moment we're two equals, so wrapped up in the mere feeling of each other that everything else is just background noise. He breathes me in and I do the same, and with each cant forward of his hips, he brings me deeper into this world we've both ultimately created together.

I want more than anything to wrap my legs around him and keep him close to me, but he's fucking me so good that I don't have the willpower. Instead, they lay spread out, lazy and open as his hips move between them. I'm warm all over, tingling everywhere our skin connects. When he kisses me, swallowing my pathetic attempts at whimpering his name, I'm positive that this is what Heaven must feel like.

Whether it's hours or only minutes later, eventually my body tenses, unable to hold back any further, and two particularly deep thrusts from Spencer send me barreling over the edge.

"There it is, sweetheart..." he praises, caressing my face with long, gentle fingers and leaving little kisses wherever they trail. His voice only seems to help me along, each warm syllable soothing the muscles that pulled taut at his mercy. "That's a good girl..."

I feel tired, calmed, and relaxed, when he pulls out only to jerk off over my lower stomach. Through tired eyes, I watch as he lets go and covers me with his release. Hearing him grunt out my name as he does it nearly wakes me up again, and it even finally brings some words out of me.

"God, you're so fucking hot..."

Well... Not exactly elegant, but the feeling gets across.

Spencer laughs and rolls over so that he isn't nearly crushing me anymore. He kisses down my neck, my arm, and he ever-so-slightly swipes the tip of his tongue over the mess he made before kissing my thigh and getting up to leave— presumably to get me something to clean up with.

Sure enough, he returns shortly with a wet washcloth and tenderly cleans me up. I manage to sit, leaning back on my elbows once he's done and smile at him. He's practically kneeling in front of me again, smiling back as his lips press featherlight kisses to the inside of my leg.

"How're you feeling?" he drawls, letting me pull him up to lay down with me.

"Really good. I haven't done that in so long..."

"Me either... I um... I hadn't really thought much about seeing other people once Lena and I got divorced... I guess I just wanted to put all my focus into being the best father I could, you know?"

"Mhm," I answer, turning to face him and interlocking our fingers. "I know exactly what you mean."

We lay like that for a few moments in comfortable silence, hands and limbs tangled while we breathe the same air and revel in the afterglow we've just created.

Suddenly Spencer laughs, and I squeeze his hand. "What is it?"

"I was just thinking... We probably wouldn't have met if not for Anteros calling us in, right?"

"Yeah..." I piece it together. "Guess I never thought of it that way."

"I just think it's funny, because in Greek mythology, Anteros was an Erote, known as an avenger of unrequited love, and he punished those who scoffed at romantic advances made by others... You and I never even thought about dating after our separations, and yet... Here we are now, because of Anteros."

Hearing him educate me on Greek mythology only serves to remind me how different we are. Still, the little story brings a comforting smile to my lips. "Well... Remind me to send her a basket of muffins or something to thank her."

"And tell her what? That you're grateful she got you laid?"

"Yeah. And what about it?"

The two of us dissolve into laughter that eventually fizzles and leaves us silent again. Our fingers are still tangled, and somehow we've snuggled in even closer.

"In any case, I'm glad I got to meet you, Doctor Reid."

"And I, you, Ms. Y/L/N..."

———

In the past two weeks since that first meeting, I hadn't received any more phone calls from Principal Anteros, which bode as a good sign.

Spencer and I decided to see each other as secretly as we could, which meant only giving vague details to our kids as to what we were doing in our spare time— It seemed weird to spring it on them if they didn't get along, so we figured it was best to wait until the situation was handled.

I tried to talk to Sky about their progress with Vivian, but they only insisted that everything was fine and they wouldn't have to worry anymore. And after relaying this information to Spencer, he informed me that Viv had said the same thing to him.

It wasn't until we both realized that they'd said the same things verbatim each time we asked, that something odd was going on.

And that's how we end up right here, Sky and I sitting on a park bench bathed in the golden October sun while I patiently wait for Spencer to 'coincidentally' show up with Vivian.

Thankfully I don't have to wait too long, because almost five minutes after we sit, I hear the familiar sound of my name falling from his lips, and it's hard to contain the cocky, playful smile that appears upon my own.

"Spencer, hey!" I call back, standing up and going to give him a hug. He pulls me in and he's nice and warm. He smells like burnt wood for some reason, and I want to breathe him in forever. Instead, I settle for a sweet kiss on the lips, both because I simply want to and also because it should baffle the fuck out of our kids.

Sure enough we pull away and look to them, and they look panicked. They have no idea what to do, what to say...

"Oh! Sorry... Viv, this is Y/N, Sky's mom."

The pure amusement in Spencer's voice makes me feel even warmer than being in his embrace. I look to his daughter and give her a wave. "Hi."

"H—Hi..."

It almost seems cruel to laugh at their predicament, but as I turn to Sky and introduce them to Spencer, they have clear annoyance written all over their face.

"Okay, Mom, I think we get it... How did you guys figure it out?"

"What, that you two pretended to hate each other so your principal would have to call us both in to meet?"

The pre-teens look at each other and sigh, truly defeated once and for all. "Yeah," they mutter simultaneously.

"Well, it surely didn't make any sense when you got in trouble for yelling at each other in the first place," Spencer points out. "And then when we asked you how things were working out, you both said the same exact thing..."

"It wasn't that hard to figure out, but we appreciate the effort," I add, reaching out to ruffle Sky's hair. They jerk away playfully, and I can't help but notice their smile as they peek over at Vivian.

"Our plan worked, though, so I call it a win," Vivian says with a shrug.

"As long as you two don't plan on causing any more disruptions at school..." Spencer looks between the both of them, and then at me, his eyes softening as he takes my hand and squeezes it. "Then yes. I'd call it a win, too."

I lean into him and laugh. "Turns out it wasn't Greek mythology that brought us together. It was The Parent Trap."

He raises an eyebrow, like he doesn't get what I mean, and before I can ask or explain, Vivian does it for me. "He's never seen it."

Spencer looks between the three of us like a lost and confused puppy, and we all laugh.

"Well, then, maybe we'll have to have a movie night sometime soon," I offer, reaching out for Sky.

Hand in hand, the four of us continue down the pathway, walking away from the setting sun while dried leaves rustle under our feet.

———

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[littlemisspascal]

Death and an Angel part 9

Helmetless + Death!Din x Cupid F!Reader

Summary:  You make a promise to Din before you leave to meet with your superiors, but will you be able to keep it?

Rating: T

Word Count: 2,976

Warnings: fluff, the angst is back people, protective and possessive Din, your superiors are assholes, overuse of italics, swearing, plot plot plot

Author Note: All the love to every single supporter out there! Don’t hate me too much for this segment please.

Links to Part 1 and Part 8 and Part 10

Cross-posted on AO3.

Photo Inspiration:

“I’m going with you, angel.”

In exactly one hour, you’re due to report back to headquarters. You’ve been loathing this meeting from the get-go, but now, after being matched with Din, the mere thought of leaving him is as painful as a physical blow. You wish you had more time to revel in his heated kisses, the touch of his hands against your skin, the low growls he elicits when you run your nails through his curls.

Deep down, you know as immortal beings you will have an eternity to experience all of these thrills together. But right now the bond you two share as soulmates doesn’t care about the future, only the present. In your mind, it resembles a sapling soaking up every ounce of affection it can from you and Din, craving more and more intimacy in order to become stronger. Just thinking about being separated from him, even for only a short while, makes your chest hurt something fierce, as if a bundle of thorns has become wrapped around your heart.

Din is not immune to the effects of the soulmate bond either. Since his return to Arvala-7 he has not let you out of his sight for longer than thirty seconds. Anyone else, you would have been annoyed by the incessant staring, but with Din you only feel desired and, as sappy as it sounds, cherished in a way you’ve never felt before.

Which makes it all the harder to meet his gaze right now, frowning as you shake your head at him.

“Din, you can’t,” you say quietly, praying your voice doesn’t break because you know it will trigger his overprotectiveness and then you’ll helplessly melt into a puddle of warm emotions. “Only Cupids are allowed at headquarters. No outsiders allowed, not even Death.”

His jaw clenches, displeased by your rebuttal, but his fingers are gentle as they trail across your cheeks. That’s another thing you’ve noticed since he’s reunited with you: his gloves have yet to make a reappearance. It’s like now that you and the universe have assured him of your requited feelings, his iron walls of self-control have crumbled to dust, revealing a lonely, touch-starved soul who has long been told he could never physically connect with someone without the risk of killing them and is now desperate to make up for the lost time.

With this in mind, each time he initiates contact, you always make sure to return the gesture with as much affection as you can muster, whether that be by deepening his kisses or by intertwining your fingers tightly with his when he reaches for your hand. Or, such as in this instance where the two of you are lying together and cuddling on Kuiil’s bed, you take advantage of him having removed his full suit of armor to curl closer against his chest, nuzzling your head beneath his chin.

The Ugnaught had taken Din’s return in stride when he and IG-11 had paused their farmwork outside to check up on you about twenty minutes ago. Upon seeing them, Din had started to untangle himself from you so he could stand to greet them. His lack of urgency to conceal his face surprised you initially, but then you recalled Kuiil already knew Din resembled a human male, meaning at some point during their friendship Din had become comfortable enough to not wear his helmet around him. Petty jealousy swirls inside of you, upset you’re not the only one who knows Death’s true face, but you squash the ridiculous emotion not even a second later. If anyone is worthy enough of seeing Din’s true self, it’s Kuiil.

Before Din could get to his feet, Kuiil had merely shaken his head, saying he didn’t want to interrupt your time together when he knew you had to leave soon. Which is what prompted Din to insist upon himself accompanying you to headquarters.

“I don’t want you anywhere near those bastards,” he mutters darkly, lines of frustration forming ridges along his forehead. He still hasn't forgiven Hess for causing you to have a panic attack.

You wrap your fingers around his wrist, not with the intention of stopping his soothing ministrations, but instead grounding yourself in the moment using the skin-on-skin contact. Perhaps, you acknowledge privately to yourself, he’s not the only touch-starved soul in the room. I don’t want to be near them either, you want to tell him. Let’s fly away together on the Crest, somewhere far, far away...

Instead, you force yourself to say with the same carefully even tone, “The meeting should just be an hour or two, then they’ll make me take a reassessment test about Cupid regulations which I’ll pass easily.” You lift your head to peck the bridge of his prominent nose before holding up your pinky finger. “And by later this evening, I’ll be right back here in your arms. Pinky promise.”

Din stares at you for several heartbeats, stubbornness lingering in his gaze before at last he exhales a quiet sigh of surrender. He wraps his pinky around yours, squeezing tightly.

“I thought leaving you behind here was the hardest thing I’d ever have to do, but this—letting you go face them alone and knowing I can’t intervene—it’s a pain I’d only wish upon my worst enemies.”

You want to say something lighthearted, a teasing remark to ease the heavy tension in the room and make that stunning smile of his light up the space instead. Maybe, if you’re funny enough, you can make his precious and lone dimple appear in his cheek so you can press your lips to it. But your words get trapped in your throat, forming a lump that won’t go down no matter how hard you swallow.

You are equally as surprised as you are grateful when Din continues to speak.

“You’re my soulmate, angel, so when I swear these next words to you, I want you to have no doubt I mean them with absolute sincerity,” he says, a possessive and darkly seductive note creeping into his voice that has you instinctively biting your lip to keep yourself from moaning embarrassingly. “If anyone dares to keep you from me even a second longer than what is strictly necessary, I will stain the ground with their blood and reap their soul from their body so slowly they’ll weep for damnation.”

~~~

Headquarters is kriffing freezing.

That’s the first thing you notice when you step inside, goosebumps immediately rising along your arms and a shiver racks your spine as you navigate the maze of hallways towards the center of the building where the conference room is located. Every footstep reverberates off the black marble floors, but the sound isn’t loud enough to prevent you from overhearing the whispering voices of other Cupids watching you pass by, gossiping about your impending interrogation. You’d be angry at them, except that would make you a hypocrite since you’ve also spread a rumor or two about your coworkers in the past. You can feel an increase of anxiety rush through your bloodstream, making you stuff your hands into your pockets lest anyone sees them trembling and laughs.

Your three superiors are already seated and waiting in the conference room when you arrive. You make eye contact with each one, bowing your head as both a greeting and sign of respect. Lang, a dark-haired man who is known for shooting first and asking questions later, offers you a jaunty salute before lacing his hands behind his head as he balances his chair on its rear legs, the image of relaxation. Morgan Elsbeth, the only female of the trio, elects to ignore you in favor of boredly drumming her fingers on the glass tabletop, looking as if she’d rather be anywhere else in the galaxy than here. Hess returns the nod with a leering grin, further convincing you he was half-womp rat in his mortal life.

You reach for the chair closest to you, planning to pull it out to sit, when Hess’ low, gravelly voice has you freezing mid-motion. “Cupid 1-1-7, you are to remain standing for the duration of this meeting.”

“Yes, sir,” you say, clasping your hands behind your back.

Hess turns in his seat towards the holoprojector that is set up on the table. He presses several buttons and a holographic figure flickers into view, dressed in dark armor with a long black cape. You recognize the seraph immediately, never able to forget the first face you saw when you woke up as a Cupid. Moff Gideon is the supreme leader of all Cupids, imposing and sharp-witted with violent powers you’ve often heard described as barbarically ruthless. Everything about him terrifies you and you’ve done all you can to avoid being in his presence.

Only now there is no escaping him. You can’t even teleport to save yourself. When headquarters was initially built, Gideon infused his powers into its structure with the intent of protecting the building from being discovered or, worse, attacked. (Though who would want to battle a bunch of Cupids, you have no idea). However, to the detriment of all Cupids currently inside headquarters, Gideon’s enchantment also blocks any of you from using your abilities. According to him, it’s to prevent any power-sensitive beings from detecting your aura signatures and you’ve never wanted to risk being murdered to try and find a flaw with that logic.

To put it bluntly, you’re a regular human in every sense except you get to keep your immortal youthfulness. Which is literally the least helpful perk you could ask for right now.

“Cupid 1-1-7,” Gideon says, dark eyes peering at you with such focused intensity you feel sweat begin to form along your hairline. “You were granted forty-eight hours to determine your client’s soulmate. Tell us, were you successful in finding his match?”

“I—” you cut yourself off, noticing his use of a gender specific term.

He chuckles at your dumbfounded expression, a quiet huff of air that you quickly deem the scariest sound you’ve ever heard. “You may have been able to conceal Death’s identity as your client from my associates, but few incidents occur in the galaxy without my knowing about them.”

Your three superiors each display unique reactions to the reveal. Morgan’s drumming stops, attention now hooked by the present conversation and she gives you a once-over, clearly reconsidering her overall impression of you. Lang nearly falls backwards onto the floor, barely managing to correct the chair at the last second to balance himself. Hess props his chin on top of his interlocked fingers, observing you in a similar fashion as Morgan, but there is an eerie glint in his gaze you don’t like the look of.

You swallow thickly, feeling sick to your stomach. “What do you want from me, sir?”

“The full and honest truth.” There is a brief pause, increasing the tension in the room. “Were you successful in finding Death’s soulmate?”

You don’t understand why he’s asking you the same question twice when he’s admitted he’s practically omniscient. And the way he’d paused just now, makes you start to worry he’s baiting you into a trap, but you have no viable means of escaping to avoid giving him an answer.

Your voice comes out meeker sounding than you’ve ever heard it. “Yes, sir, I was successful.”

When it becomes apparent after a long beat of silence you are not going to admit any further information, Gideon levels you with a stern look. “I strongly urge you to reveal their identity to us, Cupid 1-1-7, so we may make note of them in our archives as is customary for all matched pairs.”

Well now that makes you definitely feel cornered. Your thoughts are a jumbled mess inside your head; half of you is convinced he already knows you are Din’s soulmate and is toying with you, while the other half believes he actually has no idea at all and is trying to scare you into revealing the truth.

Kriff. What do you do?

You stare over their heads at the far wall, uncomfortably aware of how the silence stretches on as they wait for a name. Your name. Maker, why do you keep ending up in these horrible scenarios? Who did you piss off in your mortal life?

“If your tongue has failed you,” Gideon says, tone deceptively light and airy. “Might I suggest that an alternative way of answering would be to show us your hands.”

He knows.

Kriff. Kriff. Kriff.

You continue your staring contest with the wall, refusing to let them see any indication your blood has turned to ice or that your lungs are on the verge of collapsing. Think, you rack your brain frantically. For Maker’s sake, think of something .

“You’re already in hot water, Cupid 1-1-7,” Lang says. His southern accent softens the words, but you still manage to detect the warning laced within them. “Don’t make it worse for yourself by being stubborn.”

As much as you loathe to admit it, Lang has a point. By continuing to resist, you’re only hurting yourself by increasing the time spent separated from Din. You don’t want to break your promise to him. Or, that little voice in the back of your mind chips in, cause Din to destroy Kuiil’s farm out of a panic-induced rage when you don’t show up tonight like you promised you would.

Inhaling a deep breath to steady your nerves, you hold out your marked hand, palm facing up to clearly display the soulmate marking. The little black heart almost seems to glow at being the center of attention.

“That is impossible,” Morgan murmurs, looking from your hand to her colleagues and back again. “No one can have two soulmates.”

“And yet here we have living proof contradicting that belief,” Gideon answers, gesturing towards you grandly with both arms. There is something in his voice—awe, you identify a second later—that has your body instinctively stiffening.

“That belief is the natural order of the universe.” Morgan’s voice is snappish, but outwardly she is her calm and collected self, not a single strand of hair out of place. “She is a deviation of the norm. A glitch.”

“If other Cupids find out about her,” Hess begins, pointing a finger at you like the others have no idea who he’s talking about. Like you’re not able to hear every word. “They’ll start thinking maybe there’s a second soulmate out there somewhere for them too, someone to replace the one who rejected them in their mortal life. They’ll start questioning the natural order, the foundation of our galactic society, and all those questions will only lead to one thing: unrestrained chaos.”

“In order to prevent that unfavorable outcome, I would like to encourage a moment of observation.” Gideon looks to someone out of range of the holoprojector, nodding his head once in confirmation. “Take one last long look for Cupid 1-1-7 is a unique anomaly you may never have the chance of seeing again.”

You blink, heart going still as the implication registers. “What?”

Before anyone can answer or scold you, a purple-skinned twi'lek Cupid you don’t recognize casually enters the conference room, like she isn’t guilty of intruding on a private meeting. Almost as if...someone had summoned her. Your gaze darts briefly to Gideon, suspicions confirmed when you see his smirking face, before looking back at the twi’lek drawing closer.

“It’s time for your reassessment test. I’m here to take you there,” she tells you, baring her fanged teeth in what you think is supposed to be a smile, but it lacks any warmth or friendliness. You can only stare back at her, every cell in your body screaming this isn’t right. You shouldn’t need an escort to the testing room.

“I can go by myself,” you protest, holding your ground.

She lunges forward with lightning-quick reflexes, seizing your elbow and leaning disturbingly close into your personal space. “Pity,” she says, feigning a pout. “I thought we could become friends.”

Something sharp pricks your arm. You first notice the mischievous gleam in her dark eyes, and then when you look down, you discover a needle being pulled out of you arm. The room starts to spin, fuzzy black spots appearing in the corners of your vision, and you sag against the wall, balance failing you.

Closing your eyes, you try to focus on your soulmate bond, calling out to Din as the numbing sensation spreads to your feet and you collapse onto the floor without an ounce of grace.

Then, distant and distorted, as if it is coming from somewhere underwater hundreds of miles away, you hear a responding cry, “Angel!”

Din. Oh, thank the Maker, you think hysterically. The delicate line between reality and imagination shifts and blurs, as if it also is succumbing to the drug’s influence. You feel his hands clutch at your face, then move to your shoulders, shaking you in an effort to force your eyes open. You want to see his beautiful face, even if it is merely an illusion, but your eyelids feel as if they suddenly weigh a hundred pounds each.

“Tell me where you are,” he demands, tightly gripping your arms to the point of pain. “I’ll come save you, just tell me where I can find you.”

The answer is on the tip of your tongue, only your mind starts to drift again, pulling you away from him towards unconsciousness. Your bond's strength wavers, unable to keep the connection stable across the lengthy distance separating you and him, and it begins to curl in on itself.

Din must notice this, too, screaming so loudly it verges on roaring, “Stay with me, angel! Please, just stay with—”

The last thing you think of before everything goes black is how much you hate breaking your pinky promise to him.

Tag List: @leilei-draws​, @theocatkov​, @vintagesaph​, @stardust-and-starlight​, @adrieunor​, @remmyswritings​, @gallowsjoker​, @rhiannon-russo​, @randomness501​, @sylphene​, @softly-sad​, @maytheglitter​, @melobee​, @rogertaylorsfalsettogivesmehives​, @eleinemk​, @captain-jebi​, @aerynwrites​, @promiscuoussatan​, @stilllivindue2spite​, @coaaster​, @lin-djarin​, @becauseican2, @kay2304, @odelia-d32, @nicotinebirds

[stylesann]

Rebuilding

Steve Rogers x fem!reader

Summary: Steve decides to go back to the 40’s and you hurt.

Warnings: idk? Angst but happy ending

A/N: I have no idea what this is but aaa I feel like it’s bad lol, I just always get in a very angsty and dramatic mood every time that I read a story about Steve leaving so I wanted to do my own twist? Idk, and it’s been yeaaaars since I don’t write anything and also I’m not a native English speaker so I apologise any mistakes. Comments are always welcome 💕 -> written in around 15/04/2021; ->posted 28/05/2021

Masterlist

You stare at the ocean and release all the air you were holding on your lungs. You still felt your body heavy but at least your tears had stoped. You’re fighting hard to keep your thoughts out of your head, to keep your mind calm like the scenario in front of you, an empty beach with the ocean waves rhythmically hitting the shore. The sky had a lot of clouds and it would probably rain soon, but you didn’t mind, it matched you mood.

You could say you were surprised but all you felt was disappointment, sadness and if you were being honest, you felt anger and jealousy. What Peggy had that you didn’t? I mean, you didn’t know the answer and you were sure if you had asked Steve he wouldn’t be able to give you one cause he had spent such a short amount of time with her that he couldn’t be able to actually know all of her. All her flaws, all the quirks. In the past you had thought he didn’t even loved her anymore and was just in love with an image, an illusion he had from his past. But for him to had left you for her you weren’t even sure of that anymore.

You also felt used, replaceable, like you were just kept there cause he couldn’t do better, cause he couldn’t be with her. And now that he could he just tossed you away. You knew Steve wasn’t that kind of guy, but thats how you felt. And no one could tell you how you should feel or deal with it.

So that’s what lead you here. It had all happened hours ago. You saw his old self in that bench and you just felt numb. Bucky tried to hold you, he said that Steve wanted to talk to you but you just left. You had that right didn’t you? You didn’t care about what he had to say, it was all bullshit. You didn’t care about his guilt, or how sorry he was. You didn’t even care to go back to the apartment you shared with him, because you knew if you had gone there you would be stared by a hundred pictures you had with him.

You just wanted to get away. So here you came. You look down to the wedding band on you finger and the engagement ring. You wore both together but it didn’t make sense to have them anymore. You didn’t want any memories from Steve on you so you take them out and feel their light weight on you palm. You knew this was it, it was your way of closure, of ending that part of you life. You take a deep breath and throw them at the sea. There’s no way of seeing them drown but just the thought that you didn’t have them anymore made you lighter.

You turn around, ready to go back to the car that brought you here but you see a familiar figure blocking the way. Bucky.

“How are you feeling, doll?” he says approaching you. You didn’t know how long he was standing there or what he had seen. You wonder if he could see how empty and drained you really were.

“In the moment I’m not feeling anything. I think I’m still mostly numb. But that’s probably for the best, right?” You try to give him a light answer knowing that he lost his best friend too. How could Steve have left him after fighting so long to have him back was beyond you. “Did you know? Did you know what he was gonna do?”

“I did” that was all it took for the tears to start falling from your eyes. Why had Steve told him and not you? You were his wife for gods sake didn’t you deserve at least this? Bucky reaches for you but you push him away.

“Why didn’t h-he tell me? Why did he d-do this?” you hiccup between the words, the tears falling harder than before.

“I think he just didn’t have the guts to. You know he loves you, Y/N-“

“Screw him! If he did, he wouldn’t have done this!” All the feelings you were trying to push down seem to come to surface and tighten their grip on your chest. “I can’t understand why you aren’t angry? Why aren’t you feeling betrayed?”

“He didn’t leave me alone Y/N, he asked us to take care of each other” he has a pleading look on his face while he says that, and you see that the difference between you and him is that he had some time to come to terms with his friends decision, he’s sad but keeping it to himself. He’s trying to be strong for everyone one else who didn’t know, for you mostly.

“I don’t care about what he asked. I’m not staying and I’m not doing what he would want me too. I’m always gonna be there for you Buck, not because he’s wants that but because I care about you. Whatever you need you can call, even if it’s just for a chat, but I’m not staying, i can’t. I am getting into that car and I’m gonna drive away as much as i can, and I’m only stopping when I feel like I’ve put miles between me and this” you say more calm than you were minutes before. You had a plan, it may not be the best one but that’s what you had for now. You didn’t want to be in the same place you lived with Steve, you didn’t want to see the same scenarios you saw with him, you wanted nothing from him. Maybe it was bitter of you, or maybe you didn’t have the best coping mechanism but you needed the distance.

Bucky’s expression seemed to sadden a bit but he understood, he knew this wasn’t easy for you. “I don’t want to change your mind about leaving, so I say the same, if you need anything you call Y/N, got it?” He says as he hugs you firmly.

“Got it” you say in whisper against his shoulder, his arms still around you delaying the last moments he’s gonna have with another friend. You hate to be doing this, he didn’t deserve it you knew it, but you also knew that he wouldn’t be willing to accompany you on your trip, and it was something that you needed to do alone. You were alone.

“You know he wouldn’t have done this if he didn’t know you you be able to rebuild your life, right? You’re a strong person” He uses the same tone of voice you had, he probably just didn’t want to trigger you into making your feelings rise again.

“Everyone has the ability to rebuild themselves, Buck. The fact that I’m strong shouldn’t make what he did alright. And I don’t feel much strong now... I just feel like I’m a shell. And even if I do find someone else, how am I going to let them in? How am I supposed to trust anyone with my heart, when the guy I gave all my heart before completely destroyed me?” A single tear fall from your eye, but you hold the rest back. “I’m going to be fine but I don’t even know what that mean anymore.” He just nods to this, and I know there’s nothing left to be said so I head to the car and take a deep breath holding the wheel. This is it.

I look at Bucky while I drive away, he’s still standing where I left him and I hope with everything on me that he will be fine too. Whatever that means.

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

The sun is harsh on your eyes slipping through the curtains open frames. You turn your head to the other side and you feel a heavy weight on your waist stopping you from moving further than that. You slowly open your eyes to see Franks figure with his arm on you and his head drowned on the pillow.

You turn again to look at the clock to see it marking 8:47 am. Mary would be up soon, so you slip from Frank taking extra care not to wake him up and head to the kitchen to make a quick breakfast.

“Y/N! Y/N! Can we have pancakes today?!” Mary breaks into the small kitchen excitedly jumping around. Today you and Frank would be taking her to her new math club and she couldn’t be more anxious about it.

“What is going on here” Franks rough morning voice appears on the room. He’s rubbing his eyes and seems to be sleeping still.

“We are making Mary her favourite pancakes for breakfast” you answer them as you get the ingredients on the counter. Mary hugs you and sits straight on the table waiting for you to prepare them.

It had been 6 years since the day you left New York and ended up traveling for a long time through the country only to end up here. Florida. It was hot all the time, you always felt warm but it was distant enough from your past and you felt better about it. You decided that you wanted to rent a small place near the beach and so you found a woman named Roberta, that rented a few houses that fulfilled your wish. You didn’t think twice before accepting her deal.

You weren’t carrying anything on you except for the few clothes that you had bought on your journey so the move was quite simple. And you weren’t expecting to fit in so well here but the fact that as soon as you were settled a little girl, who was maybe 7 at the time, had come to you with a lot of questions that honestly you couldn’t answer warmed you up to the place real fast.

The fact that Mary had managed to always meet up with you but you still had to meet Frank was beyond you. She talked a lot about him “Frank did this today”, “oh did you know Frank let me adopt another cat”, “the first cat Frank got us was Fred, he has only one eye”, and so on. You knew more about him that you probably would by talking to him in person, according to Mary herself. She said he was very closed but had a great heart, she even told you the story about him fighting in justice for her guard. It only made you think he was a great guy who would do anything to protect his niece, and you were sincerely excited to meet him, give the person a face.

However, as it appears that his schedule was always all over the place and you always waking around town and spending many hours on the beach didn’t help with your meeting. You didn’t understand at first too how Mary always found you around, but she explained that whenever she wasn’t studying and Frank was going out with his girlfriend Boni, she stayed with her friend Roberta, who quickly became a good acquaintance of yours.

Either way, Mary had been talking to you for weeks when you finally met Frank. You couldn’t believe your eyes and genuinely thought you were delusional. He looked just like Steve, but the moment he started speaking you could see the differences between the two and the helped you find your foot again.

In the beginning you were hesitant about spending time with Mary and Frank, who surprised Mary with the news that he had gotten a more stable job. According to him, he still fixed boats but for a company that payed well. You were happy for him but the memories his face brought still made you want distance.

During the four years you traveled around you had let him go, all of him. You had been trough all the grief stages and learnt how to do well with your own company, you didn’t need anyone else. But looking at his face had the effect of hitting you with a sad resigned feeling and you didn’t like it. But Mary always spoke so highly of her uncle that you knew keeping your distance from both because of memories wasn’t fair.

Frank, of course notice that you never iniciantes any conversation with him and he wondered if Mary had introduced the same woman she said was talkative and affectionated. He asked you about it and it wasn’t until you answered with sincerity that he understood. Since then he was more careful in your presence which you appreciated.

With time though, you warmed up to him, he was a good guy you never doubted that. You became close friends and when him and Boni broke up you helped him. It was a mutual break up but it’s never easy.

You friendship was going great until you notice him treating you differently than he would before and you realised he was slowly catching feelings for you. Obviously being romantically involved with him was the last thing you wanted but you couldn’t bring yourself to change the way things were going between you two and that’s what led you to this moment.

In a car, dropping Mary off to her math club, with Frank by your side and the promise that it would be okay. It had to. You took so long to let him in that now you didn’t want to let go, and you doubt Frank wanted anything but stay. Bucky said the same when he came to visit you and Frank. You look at him and you see him smile at you.

“You think he’s gonna be a mini genius?” He asks looking at the small bump on your belly.

“If he gets MY genes, obviously” I sass laughing.

“Ha, you know the genius genes it’s on my side of the family Mrs. Adler” he chuckles.

“On your dreams” you smile. It you be okay.

[wicked-mind]

Remember Me: Chapter Three

Summary: Y/N and Bucky were the unlikely match when it came to love, but they were inseparable since they met. After a fight, Y/N left to be a trauma surgeon in the military and returns without her memories. How will Bucky remind Y/N how she is the fire in his bones? Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: Mentions of drugging and sexual assault. Small bit of violence.

Series Masterlist

All Writings Masterlist

*gifs not mine

Chapter Three - Hunger

Bucky had been awake most of the night watching Y/N sleep soundly on his lap but eventually his tiredness took over and he fell asleep himself. When he opened his eyes to the smell of freshly brewed coffee, he immediately looked down to see Y/N not there anymore. There was a small bubble of panic as he got up quickly, walking to the kitchen to see Peggy with a mug of coffee. Without a word, she pointed to the front door with a smile to let him know where Y/N was. Bucky gave a soft smile of thankfulness before making his way to the front door, opening it as his eyes fell on Y/N’s back as she sat on the porch steps. He froze in that moment, listening her hum the tune to their song. Was she remembering bits and pieces? He slowly moved to sit next to to her.

Y/N stopped humming when she noticed Bucky sit by her, looking at him quickly. She had a banana on her lap with a cut through it and was practicing sutures on it with tweezers in her hands that held the needle and thread, “Good morning, sleepy head.” She said with a smile towards him before returning her focus on her practice sutures, “You ever wake up with a song in your head that feels like it’s your favorite song but can’t remember it? Because I cannot get this song out of my head and I can’t look it up because I don’t know the words, just the tune.”

Bucky smiled over at her, watching as she threaded the needle through the peel of the banana and suture the peel back together with black thread, “Everyday darlin’,” He told her. Their song had been stuck in his head on repeat since the night they found it. It was one of his favorite memories. Y/N had snuck out with him and they went to a field on his dirt bike. He had brought a blanket so they could watch the stars together while the little radio he had played music. He kissed her for the first time to the song Hunger by Ross Copperman. It had been stuck in his head from that moment on, like a theme song to their relationship, “Is the banana going to make it?”

Y/N giggled a little bit, “I think so. I’m a very good surgeon.” She told him as she tied a knot onto the last suture and put the tweezers down in her lap as well, “There. He should live a long life of 24 hours before he turns to mush.” She looked back at him, running her eyes along his facial features. She had never seen a smile so sincere that she could remember, “I’m practicing so eventually I can go back to work at the hospital. From what Steve says, I have a very good reputation there as their old trauma surgeon and they’d be happy to have me back. Plus I still have all my memories when it comes to medicine and surgical procedures which should help.”

“That’s great.” Bucky told her, happy that she was still pursuing the thing she had dreamed about since she graduated. Y/N was still her, even without her memories. He couldn’t help but wish the things she remembered were him and the love they had between them. It was an epic love and Bucky wanted that back, “I should probably head home and change into some clean clothes. I’ll be back later to replace the fan in your room so you can sleep soundly.”

Y/N looked at him, observing him as he spoke. She could see something in his eyes that didn’t want to leave. Or maybe it was that he didn’t want to leave her. She bit her lip, “I was actually thinking, since we were so close before, maybe seeing your place would bring back some memories. Plus Peggy already said they didn’t have anything for breakfast.” She smiled at him, “Do you have breakfast supplies? I can cook while you change and stuff.”

Bucky grinned at her idea, it was just what he wanted. Her to come home with him, “Sounds like a plan, doll.” He told her, knowing he had supplies for her favorite food already. He had gone to the store as soon as he heard she was coming home, buying all her favorite things to eat in case she remembered him and came back home, “You think you remember how to make blueberry pancakes?”

Y/N scrunched her nose as if trying to think of the steps on how to cook, “Nope.” She said with a large pucker of her lips on the sound of the ‘p,’ “But I’m a surgeon. I can figure out how to make pancakes… probably.” She said with a small laugh before licking her lips and staring at him, “Does this mean you’re taking me home on your motorcycle?”

Bucky stood and smiled down at her, “Oh no, I still think you need some more time after I found you walking down the street in the middle of the night. I just live a street down, we can walk it isn’t far.” As much as he would like to take her home on his bike, he didn’t want to rush things with her and knew Steve wouldn’t be too keen on the idea.

Y/N nodded, a little sad she wasn’t going to be able to remember the feeling Bucky had told her about when she rode with him but was happy to adventure out of the four walls of Steve’s home. She stood by him for a moment before opening the door and telling Peggy she was going with Bucky and she was alright before turning back to the dark haired man, “Lead the way, Bucky.” She told him with a smile and a wave of her hand, following as he walked, “I’m curious, tell me more about this girl you loved.”

Bucky looked at her as he walked down the sidewalk beside her, “Love.” He corrected, “I still love her and I always will.” He stared at her for a moment as if waiting for her to say it back before connoting, “We were a very unlikely match, total opposites. I already told you she was smart, I have no idea how she fell in love with me. I was a mess, always getting in fights and causing trouble. When she came into my life, she was like the little angel that appeared on my shoulder that helped me choose the right path to go down.” He smiled at the memories, “But she always told me I was the one that made her feel truly alive, like the world was brighter and made sense. She calmed my wild soul and I brought out the wild in her’s.” He had rambled on the whole time they walked, not being able to stop himself until they were in his driveway, “Home, sweet, home.”

Y/N smiled as she listened to Bucky talk about the woman he loved. It was obvious he was still completely and undeniably in love with her. She looked at the house, taking in its features when they stopped, “It’s a pretty house.” She complimented before following him inside. She watched Bucky hurry and pick up a shoe box on the coffee table, taking it into what she assumed was his bedroom. Curiosity sparked in her as it seemed like Bucky didn’t want her to see it and that made her want to know more but wouldn’t pry. She went to the kitchen, “Okay… Pancakes..” She said to herself as she closed her eyes tightly trying to remember the ingredients. When she opened them, Bucky was already pulling out all the ingredients with a smile on his lips, “Thank you. I’ll try not the screw it up.”

Bucky watched her scan over the ingredients and when he saw she didn’t remember where to start, he pulled out a notebook. Y/N always wrote down the recipes she loved. It helped Bucky cook a few meals for her when she got home from working at the hospital, “Here’s the recipe. You got this.” He encouraged, “I’m going to take a quick shower. Try not to burn the house down.” He said as he started walking out of the kitchen and down a hallway towards the bathroom.

Y/N watched him go before scanning her eyes over the recipe. She tilted her head as she recognized it as her own hand writing. She bit her lip lost in thought for a moment, trying to put puzzle pieces together. She finally snapped out of it and looked at the ingredients nodding to herself, “Alright, Y/N. You know how to do a double lung transplant. You can make blueberry pancakes.” She encouraged herself. She wondered around the kitchen, finding pans and utensils to help and started the mission of making breakfast.

Bucky came out to find Y/N flipping pancakes with extreme focus on her face as if it was a life or death situation which made him smile. He wore dark jeans with a short sleeved black shirt that showed off his tattooed left arm. He walked into the kitchen, gently taking the spatula from Y/N who looked grateful that he was taking over, “They look delicious. I’ll finish up.” He told her, adding the blueberries and flipping the pancakes.

Y/N let out a sigh of relief when Bucky took over, stepping back and hoping up onto the counter as she watched him closely, observing every move he made while he cooked. She couldn’t deny she was attracted to him, something about him drew her towards him. She ran her eyes up and down his figure, biting her lip as she took in every part of him. Y/N was very observant and when she saw the small red heart tattoos between the rest of his ink, her eyes narrowed. She recognized them as her own which made her curiosity grow. When she first woke up after having the bullet removed, the doctors had her draw shapes and write her name to make sure she still had the ability to write and those hearts looked exactly like the ones she had drawn.

Bucky turned to look at Y/N, seeing her looking at his tattoos. He wondered if it was sparking anything to remember him. He held two plates of pancakes in his hands which he set down on the table gently before pulling out the syrup and pulling out a chair for Y/N, “Breakfast is served.”

Y/N took a seat in the chair Bucky pulled out for her, “Thank you.” She said with a smile towards him, picking up the syrup and slathering enough on to cause a toothache, but she always had a sweet tooth. She licked her lips slightly at the view before digging in.

Bucky kept his promise to Y/N, replacing the fan in her bedroom with a small chandelier which made her smile when it sparkled in the light. Y/N got to know Bucky better. He was over everyday entertaining her but as much as she brought up the idea of Bucky taking her on a ride, he would deny it and his reason was that Steve wouldn’t like it. Y/N was smart and everyday she spent with Bucky and listened to him talk about the girl he once loved, the puzzle pieces slowly started to be put together in her mind. She had a feeling by the way he talked and spoke to her that she may be this mystery woman that he had broken the heart of but she wouldn’t know unless she asked. One day at dinner with Steve and Peggy, Y/N finally built up the courage to confront her brother on her thoughts, “Stevie, did Bucky and I use to date?” She said out of the blue.

Peggy and Steve both almost choked on their food at the question, sharing a look. Steve looked at Y/N trying to keep a straight face, “What.. Why would you ask that?” Y/N bit her lip, narrowing her eyes at their reaction. She was pretty sure she was given her answer by the way they choked on their food. Or she was dead wrong and they couldn’t believe her question, “Just some things I’ve noticed. He has a recipe book in my handwriting at his house and the heart tattoos look like hearts I draw.” She said, giving him a short list instead of talking about the way Bucky looks and speaks to her. The way he made her feel.

Steve opened his mouth to speak but couldn’t find a good answer so looked to Peggy with pleading eyes for help.

Peggy looked at Steve then smiled gently at Y/N, “You should talk to Bucky about that, honey.” She said simply.

Y/N frowned a little at them, her eyes flickering between the two, “Why can’t you just tell me?”

They both stayed silent for a moment as if trying to think of a good answer, glancing at each other and their food trying to avoid eye contact with Y/N who was staring at them intently.

Y/N rolls her eyes and sighs, standing up, “I’m not going to break.” She told them with bitterness in her voice before walking towards the front door. She grabbed her small backpack and a jacket, pulling it over her figure and opening the front door, “Don’t report me as missing person!” She called back before exiting the home. She walked down the street, muttering words under her breath in frustration towards her brother. Why couldn’t he just answer the question? It bothered her and she wanted answers about who she was and who she was to Bucky. Y/N found herself walking into a bar, smiling slightly when she saw someone she recognized sitting at the bar from the BBQ, Sam. Y/N hoped up on the stool next to him, “Hi. Sam, right?”

Sam looked at her, holding a bottle of beer in his hands, “Y/N! Yeah, Sam.” he smiled at her. He had known her for a few years, he was one of Steve’s army friends, “Whatcha doin here?”

Y/N shrugs, “Brothers being annoying. Needed to get away for a little bit. Do you know what kind of alcohol I like?” She asks with a tilt of her head. She remembered she has drank before but couldn’t remember what she enjoyed.

“Tequila. Lots of tequila.” Sam remembered with a small laugh, “You said it got you through your surgical internship.” He waved his hand at the bartender, “Can we get a tequila shot?” To which the bartender nodded and placed it in front of Y/N with a lime.

Y/N narrows her eyes at the liquid in the shot glass in front of her with a lime resting on the top, “Okay, so lime first or second?”

Sam chuckled, picking up the lime and putting it on his napkin, “You don’t like the lime.” He reminded before watching her take the shot and her nose crinkle, “Just like old times.”

Y/N wrinkled her nose at the sting then let out a small laugh, “Yup. That is definitely something I would fall in love with.” She looked away from Sam as another man sat next to her with a smile. She didn’t recognize him but from the look on his face it seemed like he knew her from how comfortable he was to come up to her.

“Hey, pretty girl.” The short haired dark man said to her. He had a sharp jaw that matched his sharp cheek bones with some stubble for a beard, “It’s been a while.”

Y/N bit her lip at the new man, “I’m sorry… I don’t remember who you are.” She told him, “I lost my memories on deployment from an injury so you’re going to have to reintroduce yourself.” She added quickly as to not hurt his feelings.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” He smiles at her before holding out his hand, “Brock Rumlow. We used to hang out, or at least you came to one of my parties when we were younger. It was fun.”

Y/N scrunched her nose in thought, “Nope, sorry don’t remember. But it’s nice to meet you again.” She smiled at him. She hadn’t noticed Sam glaring at the man and didn’t notice when he got up and walked away to make a call.

Sam stood away from as many people as he could, dialing a number on his phone and pressing it to his ear as he watched Y/N talk to Brock who was buying her another shot of tequila, “Hey, Buck. It’s Sam…. I’m at the Howlin’ Cammandos bar with Y/N…. She said her brother was being annoying and wound up here, I don’t know man. Listen, Rumlow just came over and reintroduced himself to her…. Yes, Brock Rumlow the one you and Steve told me about…. He’s buying her shot after shot… Alright, I’ll stay close to her..” He hung up the phone, shaking his head before returning to his spot beside Y/N, listening to Brock put all the moves on her while she laughed like it was the first time she had heard his cheesy pick-up lines which Sam determined was because she couldn’t remember hearing them before.

It didn’t take long for Bucky to walk through the doors, immediately grabbing Brock by his shoulder to turn him around before landing a hard punch straight to his nose. He grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, pushing him up against the bar, “I told you to never come near her again!” He growled out at Brock before landing a punch to Brock’s cheek followed by another. He wasn’t holding back, he was putting everything he had into every punch.

Y/N jumped a little at the sight, her jaw falling open as she watched Bucky punch Brock. She looked at Sam as if it say ‘help’ and watched as Sam got up and separated the two, pushing Brock out the door telling him to get out of here. Y/N looked at Bucky once Sam had gotten rid of Brock, “What the hell, Bucky?” She said to him.

Bucky turned his angry stare to Y/N after watching Sam drag Brock out the doors, “C’mon. I’m taking you home.” He said, grabbing her hand and pulling her outside. Sam was standing out there, watching as Brock’s car pulled out onto the street before heading back inside with a nod towards Bucky. Bucky kept pulling Y/N towards his motorcycle, passing her a helmet, “Put it on.”

Y/N held the helmet in her hands for a moment before setting it down on the seat of his Harley, “No. Not until you tell me what that was all about.”

Bucky rolled his eyes at her stubbornness, picking up the helmet again and holding it out to her, “Put it on, Y/N. I’m taking you home.” He said again in a more stern voice.

Y/N folded her arms instead of taking the helmet, frowning at him. She was already irritated at Steve and now she felt like she was being babysat by Bucky, “Talk or I walk.”

Bucky stared at her, knowing that look. She was stubborn and she would walk away from him if he didn’t spill what he knew, “Fine, Y/N. When you were eighteen you went to a party at Brock’s house because we got in a fight. You thought he slipped something in your drink and called me right away. I got there just in time to find his hands all over you in his bedroom while you were passed out but it hadn’t gone any further than him copping a feel. I told him if he ever came near you again, I’d kill him.” He sighs, “Now you’re back with no memories and he would’ve taken advantage of that. He’s not a good person, Y/N.”

Y/N looked suddenly saddened as Bucky spoke, her lips parting a little in shock. That was something she rather not remember and was partly grateful she wouldn’t have that memory living inside her brain. She looked down, “I didn’t know. I’m sorry.” She apologized. She sighed deeply before dropping her hands to her sides, “I asked Steve something tonight and he wouldn’t answer me. Peggy said I should talk to you about it.”

Bucky’s couldn’t help but frown as Y/N looked sad, that was something he didn’t want her to remember. It was an awful memory for both of them and Bucky had never felt such rage when he saw Brock’s hands all over her. He had beaten Brock to a pulp, almost unrecognizable and he would’ve again tonight if Sam wasn’t there to stop him, “What is it, doll?” He asks in a gentle tone, knowing whatever she had asked Steve was bothering her.

Y/N ran her tongue along her lips for a moment, not daring to look at Bucky. She wanted to know and she felt like she already knew the answer from all the hints Bucky had given her. Half of her didn’t want to ask but the tequila was giving her courage and the need to know was overwhelming, “Am I the girl you talk about? The one you still love?”

[liibrii]

fem!Miya!reader x Suna Rintarou || mostly platonic || part of the Third Miya series

Synopsis: A glimpse into your friendship with Suna during your 1st year at Inarizaki High school.

Warnings: barely proofread, general stupidity, there's a serial killer joke, reader is a lil shit

wc: 1.6k

a/n: naming chapters is hard 😭 as always feedback is greatly appreciated and if you wanna be tagged in future chapters let me know!

Friendship with Suna is one of those where you can't quite remember how or when it started. One week he was just that lanky guy sitting at a desk to the right of you, the next week you walked home together and you told him your brothers' embarrassing childhood stories in exchange for chemistry homework. In a way it's an echo of all your childhood friendships forged on the beach with other kids you only knew for a week but during that week you'd take over the world for them if they asked. But the one week friendship with Suna became two weeks, three weeks, and after the fourth you stopped counting.

Suna Rintarou is a funny guy. Not funny as in telling jokes or spouting quips and smirks. He's funny in a way that even now you can't really tell who he is. He's quiet. But not shy in the slightest. He moved over from Aichi and you cringe at the memory of saying: “Oh so that's why ya talk funny. I thought yer just pretentious,“ when he told you. Your ears catch on fire by just thinking about it. So embarrassing. But he must have pretty low standards for his friends because at the time he didn't really seem bothered by your slip of the tongue. The next day he offered you a chuupet and that was enough to buy your undying loyalty.

Suna's a funny guy. You don't know how he became your friend, you don't know what he sees in you that makes him put up with you. But you're glad to have an inside man on the volleyball team.

Years of living together with the same person makes one develop the ability of sniffing out trouble before they even start to happen. In this case it's four empty pudding packages in the trash bin that make you decide to nope right out of there before Tsumu tries to blame you for their mysterious disappearance. Again.

You put on music and walk aimlessly through the streets, one of those walks where it doesn't matter if you get lost because you have no clue where you're headed anyway. Everyone needs a stroll like that from time to time. Often they lead to situations that would otherwise probably never happen. Like running into a serial killer, but luck is on your side today so the only person you run into is a familiar lanky figure stretching by the side of the road. “Sunarin! Didn't expect to meet ya here!“

He looks up and his blushed sweaty face wears the same expression as ever. In the last months you've learned Suna has two expressions, the deadpan one, and the deadpan one with furrowed brows. “O, Miya. Well, I live nearby.“ Oh right, you did pass the bus station where he exits just a song ago. “Taking a stroll, are you?“

“Samu and Tsumu are having a screamin' match right now so I decided to get myself out of there before they'd drag me into it.“

“Tragic. Where are you headed?“

Your destination is 'who cares' so you join Suna on a walk. It's good he already ran his evening route because you're not in the mood to reenact a wanna be healthy person's only free time activity.

Just a short walk between the apartment buildings by the side of the road you reach a path of cobble stones that leads further between trees.  

“What? You didn't know there's a park here?“ Suna smirks and you're surprised his face muscles are even capable of stretching so far.

You shake your head, slightly embarrassed. “No, I really didn't. To be fair this neighbourhood used to be ruled by another clan so we never played around here,“ you quickly add as if children clan wars from years ago are a better excuse than simply being unfamiliar with this part of the town.

Suna doesn't comment but the corners of his mouth keep tugging up even after you walk through the park. Or maybe that's because you tripped over nothing while watching a cat cross your path.

“We have a cat back home,“ he tells you and shows you the picture of his little sister with a big fluffy orange cat on her lap.

“So cute,“ you coo, “looks just like ya.“

“Oh yeah, lots of people say she looks just like me. I think I'm more handsome though.“

“No, I meant the cat.“

This time you're the one prepared to jump away form a well aimed kick but Suna only gives you a disappointed glare. “I thought you were the nice Miya.“

You sympathetically pat his shoulder. “Sorry. My sincere condolences. Shall I send some flowers for the funeral of yer last brain cell? Samu always wanted a cat but dad wouldn't let him.“

“Really? Why not?“

“Oh he made the mistake of asking just after the mango incident.“

“The-“

“Only Miyas are allowed to know about it,“ you say, snickering at Suna's furrowed brows. You know curiosity is going to eat at him for weeks to come. Maybe you should come up with a cover story, just in case. “Do ya miss yer friends? Ones from Aichi I mean?“

Suna thinks for a moment, maybe still trying to figure out what a mango incident could possibly be. “Sometimes,“ he says after a while and a poke to his side, “but I met a lot of new people at the dorms. Inarizaki isn't that bad either. There's you and Ginjima, and your brothers sometimes, and ehm,“ he mumbles as he tries to remember whom else he could call a friend.

“If Tsumu or Samu bring this topic up just let them know ya were my friend first,“ you pout. That's the problem with having had siblings in the same class for the entire grade and middle school; all your friends were also their friends. “It can't be easy,“ you say, half trying to make him feel better, and half just changing the topic that's starting to turn his ears red, “movin' over here I mean. Ya really left all ya knew behind for volleyball. That's pretty admirable. Ya just might be as crazy as Samu and Tsumu.“

“Please don't compare me to your brothers,“ says Suna.

“That bad, eh? So what's it like? Livin' in a dorm?“

“Oh. Well. We're four in a room-“

“Yikes. And I thought havin' two other people in your room is a lot.“

Suna laughs. Oh, so he can do that. It suits him, you decide after a moment. “Now take into account that two of those keep leaving dirty socks around.“

“Oh I know what that's like,“ you nod, all too familiar with dirty socks under table, under bed and other parts of bed you'd rather not think about.

“I doubt you'd get in trouble for punching them though.“

“Oh I would.“ You look him over. “Ya don't really look like a punchin' type to me. More a very petty guy. Soy sauce in mornin' tea kind of guy.“

“You're giving me ideas.“

“Thanks, that will be one kit-kat. Or none if ya put some in Samu's water bottle.“

“All in all dorm isn't that bad,“ Suna tells you once you both stop laughing over the prospect of putting soy sauce into Osamu's drink. “Wish I could sleep a bit longer in the morning but what can you do? And I miss mom's cooking. We cook ourselves and the food is good. Usually. It's just not the same, you know? Want a chuupet?“

“Ya brought a chuupet to an evenin' run?“

You still gladly take the fruit stick. It's a rare occasion in which it isn't in danger of being snatched away by one of your co-spawns. You don't comment but the next day a neatly wrapped bento box waits on Suna's table.

Suna doesn't quite remember when you became friends. One day you were a girl from his class that looked suspiciously similar to those loud Twins on the volleyball team (the moment he realised your last name is in fact Miya too he felt incredibly stupid for not noticing sooner), the next day you're hanging with him during breaks and sending him messages along the lines of 'I'll buy you as many chuupets as ya want if ya tell me what happened at practice yesterday, I need to let Tsumu know who's the boss' that usually arrive in the middle of the night. Even if they wake him up your name popping on his screen still makes him smile.

Really it takes impossibly long for Suna to realise he doesn't enjoy being in your presence only because being friends with you is as easy as getting the ball around a block or because you're the one Miya to voluntarily share your food with him.

The moment the cogs finally fell in their place and began to spin, making the little 'there might be something more' thought appear is one he'll remember for the rest of his life, and will quite probably haunt his nightmares too.

That's the thing about emotions (truly the revelations of that day are almost too much for his volleyball focused teenage brain), they take over neurones in charge of sending information around the brain, bribing the ones running toward mouth to run faster than the ones heading towards the comprehension centre, and then you find yourself in awkward situations such as saying your name out loud in the packed locker room followed by: “She's really funny and amazing. I like her a lot.“

But the situation being awkward is the least of Suna's problems as two pairs of almost identical brown eyes stare him down.

Oh, shit.

tag list: @espressons @trashy-simp @nachotrash @megumiisee @foxxtrot-116 @e-wwis​

[theveryinsignificantpotato]

hello!! may a request an alastor x reader where the reader is charlie’s older sister?!

I am sorry this took a weirdly long time, I had to rewrite it literally four separate times before I had a semi-solid idea for a plot, and this is where it got me

I do sincerely hope you like it!

The Magne Match Maker

She was lucifer's oldest and most powerful daughter, holding a reputation for being a high energy leader who didn't take any shit, and often stirred fear in the hearts of those around her. Everyone in hell knew who she was, Alastor alone had read about her in papers, seen her in paintings and portraits with her family, and even caught a glimpse of her on the picture show once or twice in passing. He found himself knowing of both her and her reputation when they met, so the shock wasn't from her personality or anything of substance - he just hadn't anticipated how much prettier she was in person.

Despite her initial skepticism with his relations to her sister's dreams, she never shunned him, but rather allowed him closer in an attempt to grasp any hidden intentions he had. She allowed him to talk and dance and joke with her like he did with everyone else that allowed him to, and he found that she herself was brilliantly funny, charismatic, and quite the dancing partner, she was bold and fun and all around gorgeous - and Alastor would never admit just how quickly she had him wrapped around her little finger.

Charlie watched it all go down too, from the moment her sister arrived at the hotel she had a premonition about those two, and as the weeks passed their chemistry became more and more undeniable. Her sister, who was usually stubborn and quick witted, seemed to turn to putty in Alastor's hands every time he swept her into a dance, she'd blush and lean into his grip, and has a smile that just wouldn't leave regardless of how much she tried to force any other expression into its place. Alastor himself even seemed hesitant any time he had to remove the demon from his gaze and found that his face flushes against his will any time she'd laugh at his jokes.

This went on for months, both parties infatuated with the other while doing nothing to officialize any sort of relationship.

Charlie had to do something

While y/n had accepted the idea, Alastor was thrilled at the principal of a ball! So many bodies crammed in one room in the midst of an event would surely result in some delicious chaos, and even if there wasn't any, perhaps he could treat himself to a dance with the queen-to-be! 

Said demon herself was more excited at the ability to use the event as an excuse to go dress shopping with her little sister (dad had her off on business so often it seemed she never got to see Charlie anymore) it had been a long time since she'd been to a formal event and who better to consult than her! The Magne sisters would surely rule the event with their outfits.

Boy did they, Alastor was stunned when he saw y/n, who entered with Vaggie and Charlie, the three of them were talking and at one point when y/n threw her head back in laughter his long-dead heart seemed to leap back to life. He had never meant to stare, of course, she just completely caught him off guard with her striking appearance. Both Magne sisters wore dresses in the same style with skirts that met the floor with a gold trim, charlie's was primarily black and pink - like her typical outfit, and her sister was wrapped up in her own favorite colors, golden fabric trimming both dresses. He himself was quite dressed up, an old fashioned suit adorning his thin frame (red suited him best, he thought), his bowtie was replaced with a hand-tied bow, and a silken vest showed slightly beneath his coat. Her eyes finally met his after a few moments, and he reveled in the way her cheeks instantly flushed upon seeing him. It wasn't long then, before he approached her for a dance, earning an excited squee from Charlie. 

"You are gorgeous as always Ms. Magne, I would be eternally grateful if you'd grant me a dance." He asked sweetly, taking her hand and bowing to press a kiss to her knuckles

Her face flushes even more and she looks to Charlie who nearly shoves her sister into his arms in reply. He is barely fazed, only moving to ensure she was steady before returning to his previous position, "I'd be honored to" she says finally, her words barely leaving her mouth in a breath.

His smile widens and he immediately begins guiding her to the floor where many couples were already moving to a jovial rhythm, proudly showing her off to those who saw, as if staking claim to her right then and there. As usual, she was a wonderful dancer, and he adored every second he had with her in his arms, twirling and spinning her in time with their fellow dancers, even she seemed to be having a blast. He was so caught up in the moment that he barely noticed when the music slowed to the next song and she ended up curled up into his arms with her head to his chest. His left hand gripped her right one gently, and his other hand was held softly to her waist as he led her between the other dancers.

"You have a heartbeat." She observes in a soft voice

“That I do." He hums in a jovial tone, sending a delightful chill down her spine

"My father and mother don't, I have just never heard one before…" she says softly, and her face flushes slightly once again, "I don't know why I brought that up, I was just thinking and I guess I started talking."

He shook his head “Nonsense, I’d love to know whats going on in that pretty little head of yours,” He hummed continuing their soft sway across the floor, “Many people find the sound of a heartbeat to be relaxing, while I have met others who rejected the idea of a demon with a pulse, I’m curious of what your opinion is.” He continued the topic, hoping to keep her talking

“I like it.” she says contently, “I think I could always listen to it.”

Now it was his turn to feel blood rush to his cheeks, and he was silently thankful that she couldn't see his darkened flesh from her angle against his chest

"It's funny how much I disliked you when we first met," she continued, "I'll admit, Charlie is the only reason I let you stick around at all - and it seems that it's because of her that I'm here with you now." 

He hummed, "She is quite persistent regarding you and I, isn't she?" He muses, his eyes shining with amusement when she finally picked her head up to see him 

"Quite," she says, mirth decorating her features, Charlie was naturally very excitable, but her biggest downfall was her inability to be discreet - she didn't know just how much her proclaimed OTP knew of her set up, and the two of them got quite the kick out of watching it all unfold. "You don't have to listen to her ramblings, mister, I don't wanna hear you complain!" She said with a laugh

"Who said I was complaining? Your sister is quite entertaining, her little matchmaker game is one of the highlights of my days at the hotel!" He replies, "And you, Ma petite chou, play quite the role in that, too. Your smile shines brighter than the sun ever dreamed!" 

She makes a face, unable to hide her light blush at his compliments, "I've never seen the sun, Al- and did you just call me a little cabbage?" 

He laughs, "It's a term of endearment, chér, the french use it to relate the subject to something small, round, and cute, which you my darling, are." He flirts, that familiar sparkle of amusement manifesting in his eyes once more, "and why have the sun when you exist in this world?" 

She rolls her eyes, her cheeks still burning slightly, "Why do you say such things to me? Charlie cannot hear, so there is hardly any cause for you to continue this game."

He seemed confused for a moment, "game? Oh darling, you wound me with your accusation. I may be a demon, but I am a man of my word, and though I admit I have a flair for the dramatic, none of my actions toward you have been anything short of genuine." He confesses, and the look on her face was one of complete shock.

Then in the most amazing twist, an excited smile graced her features

"So you're saying that Charlie is absolutely correct about us and after all of it, you really do like me, and I am the most oblivious being on this plane just like she said." 

He blinked, "now I'm not-"

She rolled her eyes again, shaking her head, "shut up and kiss me, you silly cabbage." 

He laughed then, humming "as you wish, mon drôle de petit chou" before spinning her about and pressing a sweet kiss to her lips

Before she could even process the situation she was in, she heard her sister squeal in delight at the sight of her parallel to the floor in the radio demon's arms, and she couldn't help the excited smile into Alastor's own at the sound.

[keepyourpantsongohan]

Hills of Marigold

Before that, we must find love and fill the vessel with it. (Chapter 500) | Discord Secret Santa 2020 for @chavelink​. | AO3 | Holiday Prompt: Day of the Dead.

                                ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It starts with Kakashi’s sticker chart.

Naruto is not quite old enough for the Academy yet, but his eagerness to become a shinobi is almost as vast as his ability to turn his home upside down the minute his parents look away.

Though Kakashi’s duties don’t usually leave him much time for babysitting, he knows more than most how rare it is that the Hokage gets free time, so he volunteers himself twice a month to be subject to the hurricane that is five-year-old Uzumaki Naruto in his sensei’s stead.

Out-running Naruto is not the problem. Kakashi is certainly fast enough to reach him before he can do any permanent damage. What really perplexes Kakashi is how to keep a five-year-old entertained. Naruto is more loud, curious and insistent on clinging to Kakashi every minute of he’s around than anyone he’s ever met. (Even Gai can be reasoned with, Kakashi thinks, trying to make rice with two sticky hands tugging on his jōnin blues.)

“Why can’t we eat ramen instead, Kakashi-niichan?” Naruto complains, scrunching up his face.

“It doesn’t have any nutritional value,” Kakashi replies, sighing.

Naruto pauses, and though Kakashi’s eyes are on the stovetop, he knows the younger boy is frowning. “What’s that?”

“Vitamins and minerals. Those things are in the vegetables you’re going to eat.” He eyes the other pan, and decides it’s time to plate the sweet potato and broccoli. Naruto doesn’t look particularly enthused, so Kakashi reminds him, “If you want to become a ninja, you’ll have to eat the kind of food which makes you stronger.”

At the mention of the word ‘ninja,’ Naruto’s face lights up. “Hey, Kakashi-nii, teach me a jutsu!”

It’s not the first time Naruto has asked, and Kakashi usually flat-out refuses. Naruto is destructive enough without any shinobi techniques. But an idea suddenly strikes Kakashi. “How about we make a deal?”

The deal Kakashi proposes is premised on the most basic of tactics Minato-sensei has instilled in his team: Positive reinforcement. If Naruto behaves well enough, Kakashi will teach him something.

It becomes clear to Kakashi in the first hour or so that Naruto’s impatience outweighs his focus. With the prospect of a ninja technique on the line, he is far more concerned about hassling the information out of Kakashi than he is about washing up after lunch, or cleaning his room. So it falls on Kakashi to improvise.

Kakashi holds up the latest Ichiraku flyer. “You see these stickers?” he asks.

“So we are getting ramen?” Naruto asks, bouncing on his heels.

“Not today.” Carefully, Kakashi peels up a circle which announces a 10% off deal on yakisoba. “If you can earn five of these stickers, I’ll teach you how to knock someone my size off of their feet. But I’ll keep the flyer with me, so there’s no cheating.”

Kakashi’s plan is more effective than he could’ve predicted. Not only does Naruto manage to keep himself clean the rest of the afternoon, but his attempts at taijutsu tire him out to the point where, for once, he is asleep in bed by the time Minato and Kushina come home.

“Are you interested in becoming a jōnin-sensei, Kakashi?” Minato asks him with a wide smile.

“Not on your life,” says Kakashi, shunshin-ing away with a wave.

—

Whether he likes it or not, Kakashi does become something of a teacher to Naruto. The young boy, distracted as he is, doesn’t shy away from hard work, as long as it’s something that interests him. After a while, they make their way through some basic attack and defence strategy (though Naruto seems to rely much more heavily on the former). Kakashi even tries to work with him on chakra control, but despite his size, Naruto’s chakra reservoir is enormous, so even gathering chakra to his palms proves difficult.

By the time they take a break in the late afternoon, Kakashi half-wishes he could reach for the book in his pocket and spend the rest of the day letting Naruto practice, but he knows shinobi at this age usually need supervision. He sighs, passing his hand over the dandelions wistfully.

“It’s not fair, y’know,” Naruto complains, sprawled out on the grass. “How come I can’t make my hands work like yours, Kakashi-nii?”

“You’re five,” Kakashi tells him, as if it’s that simple.

“But Sasuke can—”

Kakashi hears Naruto complain about Sasuke, his habitual playmate, often. Itachi’s little brother, if the name is anything to go by. Kakashi isn’t sure if Naruto sees Sasuke as his greatest enemy or best friend.

“It doesn’t matter how quickly you can learn. What’s important is that you work at it.” Kakashi says firmly. Sensing Naruto needs more reassurance, he adds, “Besides, Sasuke may not have as much chakra as you do.”

Naruto mulls this thought over, tugging the grass into his small fists. “Why not?”

Kakashi thinks of Kushina, and the overwhelming energy it must take just to contain her presence. “It seems to run in your family.”

As if summoned by these words, Kakashi feels a shift in the air which marks Naruto’s mother’s arrival. The sure-footed sound of her sandals landing on a tree branch, the smell of coconut oil from her hair, and the loud chakra signature which matches her son.

“It’s time for dinner, y’know!” Kushina announces, hands on her hips as she jumps down. “Minato made grilled saury, and I won’t have you boys coming back when it’s already cold.”

“Food!” Naruto says, hopping to his feet with a grin. He grabs his mother’s hand. “Let’s go, kaa-chan!”

Weakly, Kakashi tries to raise his hands in a warding gesture. “Actually, I have some food at home—”

“Nice try,” Kushina says, grabbing the collar of his flak vest with her free hand. “You’re coming too, Kakashi.”

Kakashi sighs, letting himself be tugged along. “Aren’t I too old for you to still be force-feeding me?”

“If you want to be a ninja, you have to eat strong things,” Naruto pipes up from Kushina’s side helpfully.

“You tell him, Naruto!” Kushina says, grinning at her son.

“I don’t like being a sensei,” Kakashi mutters under his breath, while Kushina and Naruto laugh at him.

—

Despite Kakashi’s words, dinner at the Uzumaki household isn’t so bad. Kushina may give him too many helpings of saury, Minato might be far too concerned about his social life, and Naruto might try to dump his vegetables on Kakashi’s plate, but there is a warmth in their home in which Kakashi cannot help but feel caught up.

It is this same warmth which has him linger after dinner is over, handing plates over to Kushina as Minato carries Naruto off to bed.

“I want to thank you, y’know,” Kushina says gently. “Naruto thinks pretty highly of you.”

Kakashi ducks his head, cheeks ruddy over the edge of his mask. “I’m not doing much.”

“He really looks forward to those stickers, and your lessons.” she says. Her eyes drift towards the fridge, where Naruto has stuck a colourful paper with his assortment of Ichiraku coupons. “I was wondering, do you mind if I join you both next time? There’s a place I’d like to show Naruto. And you, if you’re willing.”

The request leaves Kakashi taken aback. While Kushina doesn’t often leave the village, he knows she’s as busy as Minato-sensei, overseeing most of the genin and chunin missions in his stead. But Kushina’s eyes are sincere and bright, so he cannot bring himself to question the request.

“Ah, sure,” he replies. “What did you have in mind?”

What Kushina has in mind, it turns out, is a week-long trip to the coastline. It requires Kakashi to turn down a two-man mission with Tenzō, and an invitation from Asuma to join his former classmates for Yakiniku, but he is curious about what could Kushina could want to show them so much. A curiosity which only grows when he realizes that Minato-sensei will be joining them.

Kakashi leans against the doorframe, straightening up when his sensei walks in, backpack in hand. “Is it really okay for you to be leaving Konoha for a week, sensei? I mean, Yondaime-sama?” he corrects.

“I wouldn’t be leaving if I didn’t think so,” Minato replies firmly. “Our village is made up of more than just the Hokage, Kakashi. Shikaku-san will look after the the jōnin, and Chōza-san will see to the genin and chunin. Sandaime-sama has agreed to deal with any emergencies. Konoha will be fine without us.”

Kakashi’s brows draw together. “Whatever Kushina wants us to see must be important.”

Minato smiles. “I’ll leave it to her to tell you the rest. Let’s get going.”

—

It occurs to Kakashi, as they head east, that he has never seen Minato and Kushina on a mission together.

It is something to behold. They keep pace with each other naturally, even with Kushina carrying Naruto on her back. And though Kushina’s presence is louder and bolder than Minato’s, there is a synchronicity in their movements which makes Kakashi think of celestial bodies moving in each other’s orbit. It strikes Kakashi with the memory of being five years old himself, seeing two smiling faces looking down at him in the moonlight.

As they stop to rest for the night, Kakashi puzzles over if he’s ever taken a trip like this, just for the sake of it. If he has, it’s hard to recall. At Naruto’s age, his world had been so different.

Even his sensei has changed somehow, he decides, looking at Minato, Kushina and Naruto piled beneath one blanket. More at ease with the world, he thinks, watching as Naruto’s knee digs into his father’s chest. He hears Minato whisper something to Kushina, and watches their hands intertwine, musing on what it would be like to look so certain of his place in life.

“Don’t look so gloomy,” Kushina tells him the next morning, as they pack up. “You’re not on duty today. You can relax. Maybe even smile.”

“I relax,” Kakashi replies, crossing his arms.

Kushina laughs, reaching upward to muss up his hair. He wonders when he outgrew her. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

The last half of their trip passes quickly. They stop in a seaside village long enough for lunch, but from thereon out, the rest of their trip is past far enough from the forest that the landscape remains full and vast before them.

Kakashi takes note as they pass over rolling hills filled with marigolds, adding unusual brightness to their path. Kushina’s speed finally slows down to a walking pace, and it allows Naruto to stare with open-mouthed appreciation at their view.

“Orange is my favourite colour,” Naruto announces, holding up a flower right up to Kakashi’s visible eye.

“I believe you,” says Kakashi.

Kakashi wonders if this is another trait that runs in their family, as he watches Kushina gather a bouquet of her own. Minato looks on with fondness, taking their son into his arms instead, so that his wife can move more freely.

When Kushina is nearly done, Minato approaches her and tucks a flower into her hair. His gaze is warm and soft in a way that makes Kakashi feel like he should look away. He wonders yet again why Kushina has asked him here, with their family, bright and orange and whole.

Kushina turns to Kakashi. “We’re almost there.”

Flowers clutched in hand, they walk until the flowers give way to grass, and until that grass shifts to sand. Though it’s approaching sunset, the water still shines with its warm reflection, straight through the lapping waves to let its bright golden twin rest at their feet. The salted air fills their lungs with every breath.

Wordlessly, Kushina removes her shoes, and Minato takes them into one hand and watches her walk slowly across the sand. Kushina approaches the edge of the water. Marigold petals fall into her footsteps, somehow unmoved by the changing winds.

“Mito-sama,” says Kushina, clear and certain over the breeze. “It’s good to visit you again.”

It only occurs to Kakashi then just where Kushina has taken them. Beyond the horizon line, though he’s never seen it, he’s almost certain there would’ve once been an island. The tide looks calm now, but he’s heard of the powerful current that few shinobi would be able to navigate unscathed.

Kakashi doesn’t expect Kushina’s call to be answered, if her words are for the person he suspects. To his surprise, however, he does hear something, a melodious whisper, by wind or water, that makes Kushina turn to them with the widest smile Kakashi has ever seen.

“Mito-sama,” Kushina says, with nothing pride in her eyes, “There’s someone I’d like you to meet. Naruto?”

Minato sets his son down on the sand, and lays an encouraging hand on top of his hair. “Go on.”

Naruto is uncharacteristically quiet as he approaches his mother, gazing up at the horizon as he might a new friend. “The name is Uzumaki Naruto!” he proclaims, to the sea.

Kushina’s arms come around Naruto, allowing him to lean his back against her legs. “You told me once that I needed to fill this vessel with love. Naruto... it’s more like he makes the vessel bottomless, because he fills it with more to love than we ever thought possible. He eats lots, and grows every day. He’s really good at making friends. He’s not in the Academy yet, but he’s always doing his best to learn. He’s probably a little too much like me, but I see Minato in him too. We’re a family now, y’know?”

With that, Minato steps forward. Kakashi’s eyes are so fixed on the scene in front of him, he doesn’t notice Minato looking at him until a hand touches his shoulder. “Kakashi,” he says gently, inclining his head towards the water.

Hesitantly, Kakashi walks in step with Minato. When the sand grows wet beneath his feet and his toes are lapped at by the tide, he feels Naruto grab for his hand. He stares at the small fingers for a moment, feeling Minato’s palm still resting on his shoulder, and strands of Kushina’s long hair brushing against all of their backs.

Kushina listens to the wind’s rhythm intently, and continues. “You know Minato. We’ve been walking side-by-side since we were kids. And now, we look over the village together. I think you would like the way it looks now.”

Kakashi feels Kushina’s eyes turn to him. “And this is Kakashi. He’s like a little brother to me. Or like... an older brother to Naruto. I think he’s still too scrawny to be someone’s uncle. He takes too many missions, and he doesn’t spend enough time being a teenager, and he’s always slouching— but he also cares about people more than almost anyone, in this land or the next. I think he likes being Naruto’s teacher, no matter what he says. He’s family too.”

Swallowing against a suddenly tight throat, Kakashi tries not to let Naruto feel his hand shake. “Nice to meet you, Mito-sama,” he says, when he can find his voice.

He cannot make out the wind’s song over the sound of his thudding heartbeat, but he does feel a light breeze against brush against his forehead, leaving the same warmth in its path as his mother and father did when they pressed a goodnight kiss to his temple. His eyes widen.

“I’m glad you could join us, Kakashi,” Minato says, squeezing Kakashi’s shoulder.

In turn, Kakashi’s grip on Naruto’s fingers becomes tighter, if still gentle. “Me too.”

[sekceesimps]

A Rose Made of Chains Ch 2

a/n holy crap! thank you guys so much for all the nice comments and positive feedback about this story. This is the best Christmas gift ever. Hope you enjoy! Chapter 3 out tomorrow (Tuesday) night. 

Sincerely, Coffee

teaser.     Ch 1    Ch 3

teaser for part 2,    Ch 4,     Ch 5

Kurapika (aged up) x reader x Chrollo

warnings: This chapter does get very violent and angsty. If physical branding and torture triggers, you please don’t read  

Don’t scream. Don’t scream. You silently chanted to yourself after waking up from a horrible nightmare. For once you wake up before your torturer has a chance to dump water on you. There were no windows or other sorts of indication about the time. You analyzed your surroundings. For whatever reason, you felt motivated to fight this time. Your “room”, if it could even be called that, was made up of a small charred blanket on the ground to act as a bed, a rickety looking bucket, and a sturdy chair being held up by thick gray shackles. Just looking at the iron chair sent shivers up your spine, it was where most of the torturing had been taking place after all. You had tried using your nen ability when you had first gotten here, but it had proved futile, as it seemed that there was something that forced zetsu upon you. It wasn’t like your nen could do anything  to escape to begin with. You had no issue with being a manipulator. You were an incredibly talented and special user according to Kurapika himself. Your nen ability was being able to manipulate and influence the movement of light. It made you incredible with stealth and diversions to help your friends, but terrible at actually being able to fight back. Your ability was too weak combatively, it was kind of why you were even here in the first place. Mumbling, you continue looking for a way out as your mind goes back to the day you were taken. 

»»————-　　————-«« 

That day had started so beautifully. You had woken up to sweet humming from Kurapika as he lazily flipped through the pages of a book. After passing out on the ground next to his hotel bed the night before, he had graciously pulled you up next to him. His long arms hold you close to his warm body, making your face flush, an action only reserved for lovers, but he did so nonetheless with you. 

“Good morning, Y/N'' he greeted and put his book down. You’ll never forget the joyful glint in his eye, one that was becoming less and less common to see, as his face nuzzled into your neck. It was times like this when you wished that you could just tell him that you were his soulmate. Unfortunately, you couldn’t do that to him now. He was busy planning on what to do with the spiders. You had helped him with this plan, but he often made it clear that he didn’t want your mind to be burdened with the violence of his future actions. “Can you go to the store? We don’t have much food left and I’m tired of eating junk with Gon.” he mumbled against your neck. 

“5 more minutes,” you whined and cuddled closer against him. His warmth was intoxicating and the heavy smell of lemongrass that came off of him made you want to stay next to him forever. You don’t want this moment to end. You never get to see Kurapika smile and you’ve never seen him so vulnerable as he is in the mornings. You’d never admit it out loud, but you love to fall asleep on the ground next to his bed, knowing full well that he’s much too polite to leave you down there alone. 

“Get up, lazy” he answered and untangled his arms from your body. You know the two of you aren’t dating, but it sure did feel like it on mornings like this. “I can’t come with you today  because Leorio wants me to help him with something. Make sure to get breadsticks! Oh, and don’t forget to get something sweet for Killua” he snaps you out of your thoughts.  

“Alright alright. I’ve got it, do you need anything else,” you remarked as you dragged yourself out of the comfort of his bed. It creaked softly at the shift in weight. He shook his head and wished you goodbye. 

You never made it to the store that morning. After you had left the hideout, you stupidly decided that you wanted to take the scenic route to get groceries. Unfortunately, the scenic route at 8 in the morning is also a dangerous one. With no one out on the streets yet, safety in numbers dwindles down to ominous empty and open areas. Soft footsteps and the feeling of eyes burning into your back were felt as you made your way quickly through a quiet alleyway. You had thought nothing of the dangerous feeling until you were shoved onto the ground. You were a hunter, a natural born fighter too. However, you weren’t wise enough to anticipate an attack and bring a real weapon. It honestly didn’t come as much of a surprise when you had been quickly overtaken by three shadowy figures. You were quick to spring to the defense and had managed to give up a small fight until the tallest figure muffled your screams with a large cloth. Being pinned to the ground and knocked out was not what you had expected on your peaceful trip to the store. I’ve got this, you thought to yourself as your vision blurred and you slipped into the black abyss. 

»»————-　　————-«« 

Finally! You shriek in your head. You had found a small curved nail in the corner surrounded by dust. If you could just use it to break the padlock on the door you’d be out of your dingy room. Your inner clock was warning you that it was almost time for the water wakeup. An even better but more risky idea suddenly popped into your head. It’s going to be risky you think, but I’ll have to fight my way out of here if I have any chance of leaving. You clutch the nail in your sweaty hands and lay back down on your “bed”. The door handle lowers slowly, slowly. Creak, the hinges squeak, you close your eyes, pretending to be asleep. Footsteps come closer. You jolt up before the man can react. Surprise and luck on your side. With one sharp movement you stab the nail into the short man’s upper thigh and run as fast you can. You would have made it out too if a new woman hadn’t grabbed your collar and knocked you to the ground.

“Feitan, did you let this little mouse out? She looks a little lost.” you looked up at her serious face. Her lovely pink hair smoothed up into a ponytail. With wide and begging eyes you  pleading with her silently to let you go. She looked past you and glanced at your torturer instead, who was grumbling on the ground with his bleeding leg.                                

“I’ve got it from here.” he replied as he got up. “Time for something new anyways. The little mouse isn’t screaming as much as she used to.” he made his way over to you and grabbed the collar of your shirt roughly from her. You make yourself as limp as possible, trying to stall your impending doom. He was a small man, so it surprised you by how much strength he had as he dragged you back into your room and secured the heavy ropes onto your arms, securing you back  into your chair. 

This time he pulled a dark brown belt  and fastened it around your head and stuffed it into your mouth. You let out a muffled yelp in protest to this intrusion. This man had done so many unspeakable things to you. You had been burned heavily, close to drowned, had fingernails ripped out, but each time you had prided yourself on staying as strong as you had. You were unbearably tired of fighting. It had been so long since you saw the sun. You would give anything to have rays of light touch your skin again. 

“I have to admire your strength. Many don’t last as long as you have. Will you join the phantom troupe? Will you join us?” your torturer asked curiously. You shake your head in a vehement no. “That’s a shame. I hope the boss doesn’t mind that I do this.” he replies nonchalantly as he takes out his many knives. This time though he has something different. This time, he has an iron. 

You barely flinch at this point when he begins expertly cutting up your skin. There was a certain art that was in the way he opened up your delicate flesh and created such pain and terrible marks. For what seemed like hours he did this, ripping apart barely healed wounds, creating new ones, all the while he smiled and kept asking those four annoying words. You briefly considered entertaining him and saying yes. No! You refuse to do that. 

He removes the belt that acted as a makeshift gag, asking those four words again, “Will you join us”. You boldly spit your blood onto his face and smile wickedly. This seems to egg him on as he takes a lighter and begins warming up the iron. You hadn’t seen it before. It was beautifully shaped and at the very end you saw what looked like a… no. It couldn’t be. The more you looked at it, the more your stomach hurt and rage began building in your chest. At the end of the iron was an expertly crafted 12 legged spider. You hadn’t realized it but the rage had turned your eyes into the most passionate crimson. A shade that you refused to show anyone who wasn’t trusted. Your torturer smiles, “The boss always liked those eyes”,  as he quickly shoves the leg of your pants up to leave your thigh bare and open. The iron was sure to be hot now. The reality of the situation was setting in as the man tugged your gag off and said happily, “be as loud as you want”, before he shoved the iron onto the area beneath your soulmark. Pure pain, white hot pain blinded you. Your only form of agency now in this hell was to be quiet. You knew that sleep was taking you again as your vision darkened and your head nodded off as you passed out. 

»»————-　　————-«« 

Panicked breaths tore through the silent room. Your ragged gasps for air breaking the peace of the pitch dark stillness. As your eyes slowly adjust you try to calm yourself, you focus on your soulmark and the level-headed blonde that has the matching one. It started to feel like reassurance but now it’s become a mark of pain and conflict. 

“How are you feeling?” a calming baritone voice spoke through the darkness. As he steps forward you take in his menacing appearance. He was tall and had the funniest looking coat you’d ever seen. It was fur and looked expensive. His whole appearance and tone just screamed wealth and power. He was a man who was clearly sure of himself. He’d come to visit your torture sessions several times before already. Each time he would stand close to the shadows, just out of sight, but still close enough for you to catch a glimpse of his outline. He never said anything, choosing to watch you instead. His smoky gray eyes are always on you and drinking in your appearance. 

“I’d feel better if you just let me leave” you whimper softly. The ropes that a spider had secured on you when you had gotten here were digging roughly into your skin. You felt like your aura was constrained and it was hard to breathe. 

“You know I can’t do that darling,” he all but purred, the pet name setting your face on fire with blush. “all you have to do is say yes.” he continued, coming closer and closer to your face. You do your best to move away from him. “Perhaps I should introduce myself. My name is Chrollo Lucilfer. It truly is a shame that we had to meet like this.” he had his finger raised now and languidly stroked the less bloody side of your cheek. 

You whimper softly at his movement. His intense ashen eyes felt like they were piercing your soul. “All you have to do is say yes and all of the pain can go away,” he grinned down sweetly at your pitifully shaking form. 

Your tangible fear seemed to edge him on as he got closer and closer to the side of your face. “I don’t want to,” you stated in a last attempt of defiance. 

His warm breath was fanning across your bloodied cheek. “Oh, but you will.” He remarked casually before leaning down further to your flushed body. 

His lips were soft and they had meshed well against your own dry ones. This was the first sign of  comfort you had been given in your time here. You refused to kiss back at first, but he was right, you would give in. As he politely nipped your lip, asking for permission to take it further, you couldn’t help but take it as a sign. A sign to cling onto any warmth you could get. You had no idea if you would see this man named Chrollo again. A part of you screamed that you were betraying your soulmate, but the hungrier and more desperate part of you cried to let him comfort you. 

You pulled your head back. “I’m sorry. I don’t know anything about you.” you mumbled and bit your lip. Missing the warmth that the raven looking man had provided you with. 

He smiled sadly and sighed, “That is unfortunate. I’ll be back tomorrow and the day after that. We have some time to get to know each other before you join me.” He backed away from you and let a hand linger in your H/C hair. Pressing his lips lightly against your hand, he let you go and left the room. The heavy door slammed shut and the lights flickered off as he left. 

Wind, you thought to yourself. He smelled like the fresh and intense wind that came after a hurricane. He tasted like a small dash of sugar and fresh fruits mixed in the best tarts. You determined that you liked these new feelings. They weren’t foreign but they were still unfamiliar to you. You want to experience more, but that would hurt your soulmate wouldn’t it? You yearn for him with all your soul, but your body can’t help yet yearn for the raven haired man who offers you protection. The ghost of comforting warmth lingers on your lips as you start to feel uncertain about your future here in the spider’s den. 

a/n hope you enjoyed the tieback to the teaser and first appearance of Chrollo. The reader and Chrollo are going to have a very complex and intricate relationship that will be explained much more later. Next chapter will be in Kurapika’s POV and will be the last chapter until we hit another milestone. thanks everyone! 

Also very sorry about the formatting. I don’t understand spacing at all, I hope it doesn’t bother anyone too much. 

askbox is open if you want to talk or leave requests. 

[theninjamouse]

3, 12, 40? With the shoregrillster trio? In any combination you like

3. A breathy demand: “Kiss me” - and what the other person does to respond.

12. Sneaking away to a hidden corner to share a secretive kiss.

40. A gentle kiss that quickly descends into passion, with little regard for what’s going on around them.

This is going under a cut because one, it got hecking long and two, it got mildly SPICY. Nothing explicit but you have been warned

Parties are....they’re supposed to be at least a little fun, right?

When it was announced that Gaster’s work on a new environment friendly, cost effective and all around sick public transportation design had been accepted by the city council, there was also the call to a party to celebrate the occasion. You’re beyond happy for Gaster, for his accomplishments in finally getting more steps taken to integrate monster magic into human technology on a world changing scale.

But holy crap, this party is boring.

Calling it a party at all is being generous. It’s just an excuse for people of ‘classier’ society to act like they’re taking part in something grand and to show off how fancy they are by sipping at cocktails and standing around pretending to care about what the other party goers bring up for conversation. But it is an important part of getting full funding for the project, as well as schmoozing up to anyone who might open up lanes for future development, so here you all are.

The majority people here are humans that you don’t recognize in the slightest aside from the occasional ‘oh it’s...that guy. Yeah’. There are a handful of monsters from the science and tech division all involved on the project. They’re mostly keeping to themselves, nervously socializing as little as possible.

Sans was here at some point. You don’t doubt he’s snuck off to find a corner to snooze in, if he hasn’t left the party outright at this point.

Lucky jerk.

However, you will admit, there is an upside to this whole thing. Gaster is not usually one to dress up. At least, not in any level aside from his beloved lab coat that you highly doubt contains more than a scrap of the original material thanks to all the repairs that have had to be done on it.

He’s been talked out of the lab coat and is instead wearing an utterly dashing three piece suit of the deepest purple you’ve ever seen captured by fabric. From the distance between where you’re leaning up against a pillar to rest your feet and him being caught in a circle of engineering heads pelting him with questions, the suit looks black until he shifts and the light catches the lines of shimmering purple.

You sip appreciatively at your drink, eyes taking in the way the suit fits his skeletal frame. Perhaps the night won’t be so boring after all.

“He cleans up really good,” you muse as the air to your left grows warm. “Almost makes the feral cat fuss he made about getting in the suit worth it.”

“Says you; I had to actually drag him out of bed while you were in the shower. He actually tore holes in my sheets.” Grillby leans against the wall as well, offering you a plate of ‘fancy people food’ he snagged from one of the wandering waiters.

Ah, you were wondering about those. You take a piece, not exactly sure what the heck it even is and pop it in your mouth. Your expression twists. “How is it that rich people food always looks so good but tastes like sour air and dried regret?”

“I’m still working that out myself.” Grillby finishes off the plate and sighs.

You shift your gaze to Grillby. He too is dressed to the nines, with a deep red button up, a black and gold trimmed waistcoat and matching tie. He always looks good of course but damn if his snazzy outfit isn’t making the worst kind of butterflies flutter in your belly.

“I’ll make us something actually substantial when we get home,” he continues, oblivious to your less than pure gaze skimming over him.

“If Gaster hasn’t imploded by that point.” The poor guy is fidgeting like crazy. It’s difficult for him to be around so much noise and fuss, this you know from experience.

Grillby looks at you, gaze sharpening a bit as his eyes trail over your outfit. Said outfit for the night is a deep blue one piece, sleeveless suit dress. The smooth material hugs your frame just enough to offer a hint at the form underneath and is blanketed by a sheer capelet that rests over your bare shoulders and gathers together at your waist with a thick belt.

The intensity of Grillby’s staring sends a delightful thrill of heat up your spine. “I guess I clean up alright too,” you murmur, brows lifting teasingly.

“’Nice’ is not quite the word I’d use.” He’s moved closer, plate of food discarded and hand rising to rest rather low on your hip. “Ravishing. Tempting. Something like that.” His head has tilted down, eyes fixated on your mouth.

You pull a goofy face at him, because if you don’t, you’re pretty sure your face will burst under the growing blush in your cheeks. “That’s me, the ultimate temptation.”

He’s not deterred by your teasing. He merely glances around just enough to see if anyone is currently looking your way before his grip tightens and he presses a warm kiss to your lips. It’s soft and gentle and a smile easily comes to your face as you kiss him chastely back.

Then-oh his mouth opens, and you quite forget about your boredom and the fact that your feet are killing you and the taste of bland rich people food on your tongue because Grillby tastes so much better. Your hands rise, gripping the edges of his waistcoat, pulling him closer to you and he makes a sound deep in his throat that urges your mouth to move faster, go deeper-

A laugh rings out, clear and far too close and Grillby jumps like he’s been shocked, pulling away with an eruption of blue over his face. Both of you guiltily look over towards the noise but it would seem that it was just someone laughing at a point in conversation. No one is staring in aghast mortification at the social faux pas.

A little breathlessly, you giggle. “Wow, how scandalous of you. We’re out in the open and everything.”

He shoots you a heated look. “You kissed me back.”

“You used tongue, you cheater!”

He flushes a brighter blue, but you can’t help but notice that his hand remains firmly on your hip. This isn’t fair, stupid party, stupid crowd….

An idea sparks in your heat addled brain. A dumb idea but, well, you’re rather past the point of caring too much.

You press up closer to him again, eyes darting out over the crowd for the briefest moment. You dance your fingers up his buttons. “Why don’t we go rescue Gaster? I think we could all use a... social recharging?”

He blinks and the soft “oh” that escapes him when he realizes what you’re getting at gets your ears burning.

But he doesn’t say no. In fact, he simply nods quickly, steps back and offers you his arm, which you gratefully take. Heels suck and your ankles are not pleased with you. “You want to take the lead?”

“Absolutely,” you say with only a touch of a manic grin actually reaching your face.

Gaster looks on the verge of whipping into a ranting frenzy or throwing an actual punch as the two of you approach. The human speaking to him is going on about engine semantics or something. Incorrectly, going by the promise of violence glinting in Gaster’s eye sockets.

“Pardon me,” you say with syrupy sweetness, cutting off the man speaking. All heads turn, faces going blank with subdued irritation at the interruption. “I need to borrow the good doctor for a bit. Doctor Gaster?”

Gaster inclines his head. “Excuse me,” he says with the sincerity of a child apologizing for stealing cookies. You swap to hold onto his arm and let him sweep you out of the ballroom, Grillby following on your heels.

“You are an angel,” Gaster groans. “Those imbeciles were trying to convince me to add in ‘a profitable angle’ to the design. Pigs.”

“I think that’s an insult to pigs.” You carefully look him over. “Are you holding up okay?”

He sighs heavily, coming to a stop out in the hallway where the only person present is a coat attendant lost in a book.

“Objectively, yes” he says, rubbing at his skull. “I just wish Asgore did not insist on me staying and playing nice with these people.”

“Sounds like it’s just been a big pain.”

Grillby tugs on your arm.

“It is!” Gaster proclaims, sweeping his free arm back towards the ballroom. “Vultures! Well…most of them are, there was actually a rather fascinating young man who had his facts mixed up but the core of his idea was not a bad one—”

Grillby tugs harder.

“Mmhm,” you hum, raising your eyebrows at Grillby. Just because you can, you let your tongue dart out over your lips for the briefest of moments.

He looks as frustrated as a fire could possibly be. Were the coat attendant not glancing up over the edge of his book, he probably would have scooped the two of you up and gone to work right there.

“Uh, is something wrong?” Gaster, finally noticing the agitated flick of Grillby’s flames, looks between the two of you.

“Well, we’re both kind of…hmm, how to be nice about it…bored? Sorry,” you pat Gaster’s arm. “I know it’s your special night.”

“That’s fine, I’m quite bored myself,” Gaster says dryly.

“Oh perfect!” you chirp brightly. You glance to Grillby and smile slyly. “We had a thought about how to recharge our batteries. As it were.”

Not for the first time, Gaster displays an impressive ability to give the look of raising eyebrows without any actual, yanno, eyebrows. “Do tell?”

“It’s not really a tell so much as a show-oop!”

Grillby’s run out of patience. His hands land on both yours and Gaster’s backs, urging you forward and down the hall. The coat attendant is very pointedly Not Looking as you pass by. Grillby must have done recon or something when you first got here because he seems to know exactly where he’s heading. He takes you down a small flight of stairs and round a corner that leads to a small room that’s empty save for a few boxes stacked against one wall and some unused furniture.

And just your luck, it’s unlocked.

Going by the rising purple on Gaster’s face, he’s caught on to what exactly your ‘recharging’ idea is. “Uh-um, yes I—”

“I didn’t have much of a chance to say it earlier.” Your arm slips smoothly away from his and you turn to him. You have to lift up a bit on your tip toes and pull him down to you to press a kiss against his cheekbone. “You look very handsome tonight. And we are your dates to this thing, and yet we haven’t hardly had a chance to even talk to you.”

Gaster’s blush is now bright enough to nearly compete with Grillby’s flames.

Speaking of Grillby-

He’s moved in behind you, hands dropping to your waist as his mouth descends down on your neck. The heat of his body and fire presses against your back and you have to take a moment to catch your breath.

Gaster’s eye lights have gone wide and bright, flickering with a nervous sort of energy as his gaze darts between you and Grillby. He swallows, though he really has no need for it. “I…this isn’t really the best…what if someone sees…?”

“Then you better move fast,” you murmur. Tugging on his tie, you pull his face down closer. “Kiss me,” you demand breathlessly. “Please?”

There’s a moment where his eye lights shift in such a way it almost looks like they’ve taken on the shape of stars and then Gaster’s hands lift to your face, nearly bonking your nose with his teeth with the speed at which he kisses you. Kissing a skeleton is difficult sometimes, given his lack of lips.

But you’ve had plenty of practice.

One of your hands shifts to pull Gaster closer to you while the other desperately scrambles behind to find purchase on Grillby. His own hands are quite busy, one running gentle circles on your hip and the other moving up, closer to where your chest is pressed up against Gaster’s ribs. His fangs scrape deliciously at your skin, nipping lightly in a way that makes you squirm with a mixture of ticklishness and building heat.

Your hand finds Gaster’s spine, prominent even through his suit and you grab on just below where his ribs end. He jolts at the contact, a breathless curse falling out in a rush of air. Grillby takes the chance to pull away from your neck and captures Gaster’s attention with a heated kiss.

Now quite solidly squished between the two, a soft and breathless noise escapes you as you drink in the building pressure of their bodies, basking in the contrast of Gaster’s silk smooth suit and Grillby’s growing heat. His hands continue to work at your curves, every touch sending a searing wave of warmth over your skin, kneading with a gentle intensity that makes you arch into Gaster.

You have just enough presence of mind left to sputter, “D-don’t tear the capelet.”

He growls, low and deep and oh if that rough and wild sound from such a restrained monster doesn’t make the most embarrassing shuddery moan hum in your own throat. “Take it off then,” he suggests with a tug at the belt around your waist. 

So off it comes, fluttering down the floor, soon joined by Grillby’s more carefully folded waistcoat. Then you find yourself being pulled back, led by him to an armchair covered in a cloth. The force of him sitting makes a heavy whumph sound thanks to your added weight on his lap. 

Gaster had let the two of you slip from his grasp while the extra bits of clothing were being discarded and he watches you now with a face openly full of warm affection. When you grin and beckon at him with a finger, he huffs out a sigh that is probably meant to be taken as annoyed, but just comes off as fond and longing. 

“You two are going to get me in trouble,” he grumbles. “There is a party I’m supposed to be at right now just down the hall, or did you forget?” 

Grillby, busy at work pressing scorching kisses over your bare shoulders, pauses and lifts his head. “So eager to get back, are you?” 

“Not at all. But I’ll be missed if I stay away much longer.” 

You sigh heavily, letting your weight lean back against Grillby’s chest. You might just happen to let your hand trail down to your thigh and lightly run your fingers over the fabric there as you pout at Gaster. 

He’s broken out into a bit of a sweat. 

Sweetly, you plead, “Five more minutes?” 

He stares. He sweats. Then his hand smoothly tugs at his tie and it and his coat joins the other outwear on the ground. “Five more minutes.” 

It winds up being six minutes and forty-two seconds but well. 

Who’s counting?

[whenihaveyouromione]

When I Have You - Chapter 30

Read on Fanfiction.net or ao3 if you’d prefer!

Follow ‘whenihaveyou.romione’ on Instagram if you’d like to. 

------

Chapter 30

“You know,” Ron said, unable to contain the smile that formed on his lips when Hermione emerged from their room, “one day I’m going to be literally blown away by how amazing you look, and it’s going to entirely be your fault. you look beautiful.” 

Beautiful was an understatement. Hermione was absolutely stunning. She really did like to dress up for special occasions, and while he sincerely thought she was beautiful even when she got out of bed in the mornings and her already wild hair was askew and unbrushed, his heart skipped two beats whenever he saw her with it tied up, sleaked down smooth and wearing a dress, or something more elegant than her usual attire of Ministry robes. 

It reminded him of the Yule Ball back in fourth year, or Bill and Fleur’s wedding, when she had undoubtedly been the most beautiful person in the whole room on both occasions. At least now he had the ability and the sense to let her know that that was still the case. 

“You always know how to flatter,” Hermione said; she said it in a teasing way, but he could tell she appreciated the compliment by the way her cheeks tinged a pleasurable pink. She always appreciated it. 

Ron leaned forward to kiss her, but Hermione pulled back. “Not yet,” she said. “I haven’t placed the no-smudge charms on the makeup yet. If you kiss me, I’ll have to do it all over again.”

“That’s such a shame!” Ron called after her as she disappeared into the bathroom, perhaps to see if her makeup had smudged by him just looking at her. “Also, the party starts in ten minutes, and we’re not allowed to Apparate directly into the place, so we still need to walk from the Apparition point.”

“No one ever shows up on time to a party such as this anyway!” Hermione called back, her voice muffled from the walls of the bathroom. 

“That’s a very un-Hermione-like thing to say,” Ron said, thinking of all the times she’d hurried him out the door, or into the Floo, repeating about how they’ll be late. He collapsed onto the sofa, ensuring that his no-crease charm had worked on his suit. It had, thankfully. 

Wearing a Muggle suit was such a discomfort; he didn’t know how they did it. It was tight, there were too many pieces, and after many attempts to do up a tie, Hermione had ended up using her wand, but she’d performed the spell too well and for a brief moment, Ron had been unable to breathe. 

At least for Hermione, Muggle women wore dresses that flowed either to their knees, or their ankles, or somewhere in between, and they weren’t really any different to what he’d seen Hermione, Ginny, or even Fleur wear before. 

But Ron missed his dress robes. 

A moment later, Hermione returned from the bathroom. “Ready!” she said. 

“Can I kiss you now?” Ron asked, standing up. “Or is that forbidden?”

“You can kiss me as much as you want, and this makeup won’t budge,” Hermione assured him. 

“Good!” Ron said, and he moved to her, kissing her hard, trying to make a point. 

Once he pulled away, he looked her over once again, revelling in just how lucky he felt to be with her. He loved absolutely everything about her, and more than anything he wished that this engagement party was theirs. 

After their holiday together in Croatia, after promising her that he’d ask soon, he had been so ready to do it. He was ready to do it. It was no longer a ‘one day’ for him; it was a very real, very now thing, and he was fairly certain Hermione felt the same. 

He found himself thinking about asking her in every waking moment, and just how he’d do it. It had to be romantic. He liked being romantic with her, doing nice things, and showing her how much he loved her. Maybe a dinner — though that was a little cliche, but it didn’t have to be a traditional type of dinner. Maybe he could take her somewhere special, a place they’d never been. Paris, maybe. 

And he had to get her a ring. That was something he really wanted to get right, and the biggest reason he hadn’t yet asked her. She’d already promised she would say yes to him, and Hermione being Hermione, she’d probably guess any attempt he made to surprise her. But an engagement ring was something he could surprise her with, because there were so many options that there would be no way she would guess which one he had chosen. 

The only problem with that was finding the time to get it. Ever since their holiday in mid February, Ron had been hit hard with training. He was reaching the end of his second year of Auror training, and that meant a lot of cramming of information and practice. On the weekends he should have been able to look for a ring, he was being called into the Auror Office for extra courses. He’d had absolutely no time to go anywhere at all, let alone by himself. 

Then came late March, and Percy and Audrey announced their engagement to everyone, which meant that there was no way Ron could do it without stealing the moment from his brother. 

So now, in mid May, rather than preparing for their own engagement party like he and Hermione might have hoped, they were heading off to some fancy Muggle hall, no magic allowed, celebrating the impending marriage of Percy and Audrey. 

“Is the suit bothering you?” Hermione asked.

“What?”

“You keep playing with the tie. Is it still too tight? I could loosen it some more if you want.”

“It’s fine,” Ron said, though that was a lie. He’d still much prefer dress robes, and when he did marry Hermione, everyone was welcome to wear whatever made them the most comfortable. “It’s just weird, isn’t it? They haven’t been together all that long, really. And they’re getting married already.”

“Longer than we have,” Hermione reminded him, which was technically true, but he’d loved Hermione for much longer, and for Ron, that counted for something.

“Ready to go?” he asked, glancing at his watch. “We will now officially be late.”

Hermione nodded, smiling. She accepted Ron’s offered arm and Apparated them both to the Leaky Cauldron, which was near the party. 

Personally, Ron couldn’t understand why it needed to be so fancy. Wasn’t dressing up supposed to be for the wedding, not the engagement? What was wrong with a small gathering at a house? The Burrow would have been perfect. They could have gathered in the garden. 

But over the year and a bit Ron had gotten to know Audrey, he had learnt that Audrey liked things fancy. And so did her parents. Not the Granger kind of fancy, where they’d splurge on the occasional dinner, but everything needed to be the best and the most expensive. 

Really, the fact that she was marrying a Weasley astounded Ron. But then again, she had no idea about it, and Ron was sure Percy didn’t willingly share just how difficult things had been for them all growing up. He probably flaunted all of the money he had now and Audrey thought they were all like that. 

Another thing Ron had learnt was, whilst Audrey thought she had hit the jackpot with marrying someone who could perform magic, her parents were far from impressed. Any extended family was absolutely forbidden to know, and therefore — as they were paying for the party and the wedding — their rules applied. 

No magic. 

The request had been no wands either, but Ron had his tucked firmly in his suit, and he was certain Hermione had hers somewhere as well. No doubt Percy was also carrying his. Leaving a wand in another room of a house was one thing, but to go out without it…

Audrey’s parents did not need to know that wands were used to Apparate. 

“All these rules and regulations, you’d think her parents would like Percy a bit more than they do,” Ron said as they reached the hall where the party would be. Even the outside had been elaborately decorated with very expensive things.

“Take away the magic, and perhaps they would,” Hermione said, grinning. “But you have to admit, Audrey is perfect for your brother.”

“They’re the same person,” Ron reasoned. “It’s freaky.”

“Makes them a perfect match.”

Ron smiled at her, thinking that he and Hermione were a perfect match as well. He started to say that he wished this could be them, but stopped at the last minute. Why get her hopes up — or scare her away — when he couldn’t even get her a ring?

“Come on,” he said. “I’m sure Ginny is making fun of every little detail right now.”

If the outside of the hall was elaborate, then the inside was something else entirely. Ron had attended a few weddings in his life, those of distant relatives mostly, and none of the weddings had ever looked this fancy. He’d never even heard of an engagement party until they’d been invited to Percy and Audrey’s. Hermione had said it was fairly common in the Muggle world. 

Every single spare bit of wall was covered in white and red flowers. There were round tables with white tablecloths, the centrepiece was the same flowers on the walls, but in small pots. Guests — none of whom Ron immediately recognised — mingled around the tables, glasses of wine or other drinks in hand. 

Ron suppressed the urge to tell Hermione that when they got married they were having a simple wedding and Audrey’s parents weren’t invited. 

“Oh, look!” Hermione said, not sounding anywhere near as appalled by the state of this room as Ron felt. “We’ve even got place settings. How lovely.”

They walked through the crowd, checking the names at each table. They eventually found theirs on table three, where they’d been designated seats with Harry, Ginny, Bill, Fleur, Charlie, George, and Molly and Arthur. Oh, and Victoire.

“I’m expecting a surprise wedding by the end of this,” Ron said, spotting his sister in the crowd and waving her over. 

“Evening,” Ron said. “You look nice,” he added, noticing that Ginny was also dressed up wonderfully for the occasion, wearing a deep blue dress. 

“Thanks!” Ginny said, smiling. “Nice place, isn’t it?”

“A bit too fancy for my taste. Where’s Harry?”

“Talking Dad through how a water fountain works without… magic.” She lowered her voice at the last word, rolling her eyes. “I mean, we’re not stupid, we’re not all going to pull out our wands and start casting fireworks into the hall, are we? Besides, how were we supposed to get here via Apparition without our wands?”

“That’s what I said!” Ron said. “And this looks more like a wedding than a celebration to say you’re getting married one day.”

“I think it’s lovely,” Hermione said, scanning the room. “It’s always nice to dress up.”

“You look amazing, by the way, Hermione,” Ginny noted.

“That’s what I said!” Ron replied. “Doesn’t she?”

Ginny smiled, turning her head just as Harry joined them. “I don’t even know how the bloody water fountain works,” he grumbled. “I’m not a plumber.”

Everyone laughed as Audrey came over to them, smiling, with two older and wary people slightly behind her. 

“Hello, everyone!” she said cheerfully. “I’m glad you could make it. This is Percy’s brother, Ron, and his sister Ginny,” she said to the people behind her. Her parents, Ron assumed. “And their partners Hermione and Harry.”

In Ron’s opinion, Audrey’s parents looked far from impressed about having such wayward guests for their daughter’s engagement party. They probably had plans that she’d marry some wealthy businessman or something, not a red-haired, freckled and bespectacled bookworm. The only thing about Percy that would appeal to them was his pompous approach to life. 

“I trust you have received our instructions about… everything?” Audrey’s mother asked, looking them all over with uncertainty. 

“Absolutely!” Hermione said. “We completely understand.”

Ron looked at Ginny and Harry, who grinned. Not a single member of the Weasley family was here without a wand tonight. 

“Hermione grew up without magic,” Audrey said to her parents. “Remember, I told you about her?”

“Oh, yes,” Audrey’s mother said, and she gave Hermione such a fake smile she would have given Umbridge a run for her money. “Well, it’s nice to finally put faces to names. Audrey has spoken a lot about you.” She turned to leave, Audrey giving them all an apologetic smile before following. 

“Lovely people, they are,” Ron said. 

“It is a bit of a shock when you find out magic exists,” Hermione replied. 

“Yeah, but I like your parents,” Ron said. “They’re nice people.”

Hermione tried her best to look annoyed, but she smiled anyway. They all knew Audrey’s parents were rich, upper class snobs who thought themselves better than everyone else. One only had to look at the decorations to determine that.

“Come on,” Hermione said, sighing, “let’s sit down.”

They all sat around the table, taking in the finer details of the decorations. 

“These tablecloths are made from really expensive silk,” Hermione pointed out.

“How do you know they’re expensive?” Ron asked.

Hermione flushed, seeming reluctant to answer. “Because my parents have a few similar ones for special occasions.”

Ron grinned, but said nothing. Her parents could have been the rudest, snobby-ish people in the whole country, and it wouldn’t have changed his opinion of her one bit. He supposed that was how Percy felt about Audrey.

“So, how’s Quidditch going?” Hermione then said, turning to Ginny. 

“Training is good, I guess,” Ginny said. “Though I want to get out playing.”

“When will you play?” Ron asked.

Ginny shrugged. “When they need me. Probably not this season, though. Maybe next.”

“Well, whenever it’s your first game, let us know,” Hermione said. “We’ll all come to see.”

“Oh Merlin,” Ginny said, eyes widening slightly, “I never even thought about family coming to watch…”

“You’ll be fine,” Harry said, patting her on the back. “You’ll do great. I keep telling you that. You’ll be on the pitch in no time.”

Ginny smiled. “I hope so.”

They were then joined by Molly, Arthur, Bill, and Fleur, all equally dressed up in Muggle clothing. Ron was pleasantly surprised to find his parents had managed to find items that matched, though he did wonder if Audrey had helped them. She always seemed amused by wizarding style, especially those of her future inlaws. Arthur’s attempts, especially, to dress more casually had always ended in disaster. 

While Arthur also wore a plain black suit, Molly wore an ankle-length floral dress that really suited her. 

Everyone, in Ron's opinion, had done well to not stand out. 

"This is exciting, isn't it?" Arthur said, grinning from ear to ear. "I've already spoken to three Muggles along the way! One is a doctor. A Muggle Healer! He was more than happy to share with me all the details of an operation — you know, when they cut someone open. Fascinating stuff!"

"Yes, fascinating being cut open," Molly said with a sigh. "Not what I'd want to happen to me."

"Isn't that what your parents do, Hermione?" Arthur asked.

"They treat teeth," Hermione reminded him. "They don't cut — well, I suppose they've had to cut some teeth out of gums before, but nothing more than that. They’ve retired anyway."

“Fascinating!" Arthur said. "I really must remember to invite them for dinner one night and pick their brains about it." He glanced sideways to where Audrey's parents stood talking to their own family, suddenly looking disappointed. "I don't think they are as interested in sharing their stories as your parents are, Hermione."

Everyone turned to look at the couple, Audrey's mum still wearing a sour expression. 

"We are having lunch with them tomorrow," Hermione said, and everyone looked back at her. "Mum and Dad, I mean. Why don't you join us? They won't mind. You too, Molly."

"Oh, dear, I'm sure they don't want us intruding in on a family —"

"They'll be delighted," Hermione said kindly, and Ron suspected that was not the answer his mother wanted to hear.

"Then we accept!" Arthur said cheerfully. "I'll get the address from you later, and we will be there with bells on!"

"Not real bells, I hope," Ginny said, snorting.

"It's a Muggle phrase," Arthur explained. "It means we'll be there promptly. Eagerly..."

More guests gradually filled the hall to the point that Ron estimated around three hundred people, the vast majority being family or friends of Audrey's parents. Charlie and George joined them as some of the last to arrive. 

Ron spotted a few of Percy's friends from Hogwarts mixed with the crowd, but no one he knew more personally apart from the people who sat at his table. 

At least he’d be more prepared for the wedding, which was scheduled for November this year. 

One thing they could all agree on was that the food was good. Like everything else with Audrey's family, they'd hired only the best caterers to provide the food. It was three courses and all of them were as tasty as the next. 

As he didn't know anyone else here, Ron was glad he could at least enjoy the food. 

“You know,” Ron began, setting down his knife and fork from the main meal of chicken and potatoes, served elegantly on his plate, “I’m actually looking forward to the wedding now if it’s going to be like this.” He cast his eyes over to the table where Percy and Audrey sat with her parents and Audrey’s brother and sister. Percy appeared to fit in perfectly with them all, sitting straight, taking small bites, looking rather serious. Ron smirked. “And it looks like Percy has found the perfect family for him — more respectable our mischievous bunch.”

“Ron!” his mother scolded, though she did cast a nervous glance Percy’s way — as if she wondered if Percy might have been happier with the family he’d found with Audrey. 

Music had played through the whole evening, and as people began to finish their main courses, some ventured out onto the dance floor. They weren’t a bunch of dancers, these people, and honestly, the music wasn’t that great anyway, but it seemed to entice the rowdier people, including Bill and Fleur, Harry and Ginny, and even Molly and Arthur. 

“Maybe we should dance, too,” Hermione said to Ron, her eyes following Harry and Ginny as Ginny dragged Harry away.

“With this music?” Ron asked, scoffing. “No thanks.” He smiled at her as George also stood up, perhaps in search of a drink. “Though, I did like dancing with you at Bill and Fleur’s wedding. Bill’s a lot more fun than Percy, though.”

Hermione returned his smile. “I liked that, too. I think about that often.”

Ron stared at her. “You do?” They hadn’t even really been together then, and neither of them had brought it up until now. He’d always thought for her, it had just been a dance, and for him… for him it had been a moment where he’d contemplated kissing her, but hadn’t. He’d liked being alone with her, touching her... and the fact that she’d still chosen to dance with him with Krum as an option had pleased him more than he’d ever admit. 

“Of course!” Hermione said. “It’s the only time we’ve ever danced together.”

“We’ve never been anywhere to dance since then,” Ron reasoned, though he was being convinced by just her presence and her words. 

“Well, now we have an excuse,” Hermione said, and she offered her hand to him from where they sat. “Dance with me?”

For a long moment, Ron watched her, unable to hide his smile. She was the most beautiful, amazing person in the whole world and he just loved her so damn much. Not a moment went by where he didn’t want to hold her, or kiss her, or run his fingers through her crazy hair. He thought the absolute world of her, and in their two years together, his feelings had only gotten stronger. 

Tonight, they were celebrating the engagement of his brother, but soon, Ron hoped everyone would be celebrating for him and Hermione. He wanted to marry her. As she smiled back at him, hand proffered, looking radiant under the light, he made up his mind. 

“I can’t come to lunch tomorrow,” he said abruptly. 

Hermione lowered her hand and frowned, understandably confused by the sudden change in subject. “I’m sorry?”

“I just remembered — I have some work to catch up on. Didn’t finish it in the time frame and it’s due on Monday... sorry.”

“Oh, well… I’ve already invited your parents…” She eyed him suspiciously, like she knew he was lying. 

“Great, then you’ll have company!” Ron now offered his hand to her. “I accept your request to dance. I love dancing with you.” He grinned. 

Hermione watched him for a moment, as if she was trying to work out what he was up to. But even if she did, she said nothing, instead taking his hand and jumping to her feet. 

As they weaved through the tables to reach the dance floor, Ron could only smile like an idiot. He was going to ask Hermione to marry him, and he was going to do it with the finest ring he could find. 

[dzamie-oc]

09 - Luminescent

See, I told you guys I’d make one minors can interact with. I’m not a fully lewd dragon!

Length: 2800 words Rating: E (contains a major character death) Summary: A wizard is sent to prevent disaster from befalling a kingdom. He decides that the nearby dragon, a creature so strongly associated with greed, must die. The dragon has no idea what's going on, but now it is glowing.

-----

Once, in a wonderful kingdom, the king felt troubled. He sought first the advice of his royal alchemist, who prepared a concoction to lift his spirits. Alas, the brew had only a fleeting effect; the king thanked the alchemist for her efforts, and sought instead the advice of his court wizard. The wizard, who grumbled as always for being called from his lavish tower, nonetheless put on a smile and conjured for the king fantastical illusions, and then cast a spell to relieve the ruler. Yet again, once the wizard’s efforts had concluded, the king once more felt troubled. Finally, the king sought the advice of the seers. The wise men beheld the king, and studied the court, and conversed amongst themselves. Finally, they approached him once more with their revelation.

“Your Majesty,” one said, “it would appear that a creature of greed has infiltrated these peaceful lands. If it is not soon dealt with, its corruption may spread - such corruption is the cause of your unease.”

“A grave danger indeed,” the king said. Other kingdoms had fallen to the foul temptation of greed, and he had done his best to learn from their downfalls. Once again, he called on the alchemist and the wizard for their aid.

The alchemist shook her head sadly. “Many apologies, Your Majesty, but I have sworn against creating poisons.” And the king already knew this, so she was given her leave to return to her duties.

The wizard stepped up. “Your Majesty, I have heard tell of a dragon settling in the mountains. Surely such a beast is the cause of this greed. By your leave, I shall slay it, and keep its head for my tower, to serve as a warning so another of its kind will not come again.”

This bravery impressed the king greatly, and the wizard was granted materials with which to travel to the dragon, and the town nearby. Several aides thought that his requests were too grandiose, yet, none of them had faced a dragon or used such powerful magic, so they did not speak up. And with that, the wizard left on his quest to slay the dragon and claim the beast’s head.

----

“Hail, mighty beast!” the wizard called, standing ahead of his attendants, “I come bearing a gift of a blessing!”

The wizard knew, of course, that he was no match for such a foe. In these situations, however, he knew he must be cunning. And so, when the dragon slinked closer, supporting its long, maned body on just four rather short legs, he spun a tale.

“As a show of good faith, o dragon, permit me first a spell for the two of us: once cast, neither may injure the other, be it by claw, sword, fire breath, or magical lightning.” The dragon bowed its head in assent, and so the wizard raised his staff. When he again set it down, it was so. Curious, the dragon raised a paw to the magic-wielding human. The wizard did not flinch, and when the creature batted lightly at his body, the beast’s paw recoiled as though it, itself, had been struck. It looked at its paw, nodded, and set it down.

“My magic is that of balance,” the wizard continued, “so there may be some minor curse to every blessing, as that is the way of nature.” This was, in honesty, only half false: casting a curse invited misfortune on the caster, yet a blessing would allow him to avoid such a fate. And, as he sought fortune himself, this was what he needed to do to best the creature. “Now, if you accept my gift, what form would you have it take?”

The dragon stared at the wizard for a short time, then spoke in the tongue of dragons, “prey is growing wise to me, and it is always such an undue burden on the herds and their families. I would be grateful if you could reduce how many creatures I must kill to prolong my own life.”

The wizard nodded gravely, then raised his staff. A dark beam shot from its end, and then one of light. It spun to inspect itself, yet found no difference, save for a greatly lessened feeling of hunger. When it turned once more to inquire, one of the wizard’s attendants gasped.

“By the stars! Its mouth glows like a candle!” she exclaimed. The dragon, confused, curled its head back to hold a paw before its muzzle, opened its jaws, and watched the orange-yellow light shine off of its scales.

“You should need eat merely one or two deer per week, great dragon,” the wizard explained, “and although I apologize for the curse, it is my sincere hope that the blessing outweighs it.” With that, he and his entourage took their leave to rest in a house near the nearby village. Once they were suitably far away from the dragon, he explained his plan, “of course, such a glow will scare off all prey. The beast will starve, and I will return with its head, to revel in His Majesty’s bountiful generosity at a job well done.”

This proved true, as, over the following weeks, the dragon found that his glowing maw would never fail to startle his quarry and ensure its escape. And so, after much thought, the dragon retreated to the darkest corner of its cave. When it heard the faint sounds of hooves or paws on the rocky floor, it opened its jaws and used the light, not as a warning, but as a lure. True to the wizard’s promise, too, it felt full after merely two wolves, and it was not until the following week that hunger struck once more, for one, single deer. And in the meantime, it busied itself observing its territory, and the nearby human town. So long as it allowed itself one or two days to feed, it was still able to do as it pleased.

And so, after an entire month, the wizard returned to the dragon’s cave. There, he did not find a corpse, or even a dreadfully weakened wyrm. Instead, it rested, curled like a large, maned snake, and regarded him with a thankful smile. “Oh, wizard, I must admit, I had not expected your spell to hold. Yet it has done as you promised, and I will surely remember your kind action.”

That his blessing had truly outshone his curse irritated the wizard, yet he could not let it show. “Friend dragon, if I may consider you such, that is wonderful news. I had returned to attempt to remove its effects, both good and bad, but if you are pleased with it, I shall offer a blessing anew, in gratitude for your own gratitude.”

The dragon’s face lit up, and not only for the magical glow from within its jaws. “Friend wizard, you are far too kind. Yet, this past month has enamored me of the workings of a nearby town. I speak only as a dragon does, and so fear they would flee at my sight. If it is not too much, could you grant me the ability to speak in the human tongue, that I may more closely observe them?”

“If it is not too much?” The wizard had to keep himself from scoffing at the mockery of his well-renowned and valuable skills. “Dragon, such a thing is child’s play - although, I must warn you that, once again, it will come with a curse.” And once again, the dragon dipped its head. So, with a beam of black and a beam of white, the entire dragon began to glow softly, as though every so slightly covered in fire.

It looked at its body with visible trepidation. “A high cost, o wizard, and yet-” It stopped suddenly, and put a paw to its muzzle. “Oh, it did truly work, and how splendidly I speak! Friend wizard, please, one of my scales in thanks; I have heard that it can be transformed into five and twenty times its weight in gold.” With that, it pressed a shed scale into his hand - gently, as it was still mindful of the very first spell cast - and set about thinking on how to still hunt with its new body.

Once again, the wizard left feeling certain of his impending victory. “To talk is a trifling matter,” he explained to his attendants that night, “no creature which is not already lame and collapsed will ever fall prey to it again, and surely, it will starve.” He held up the glittering scale given to him by the beast. “And to think on its scales... why, I could return with a heap of treasure for the king, and yet quietly keep a far lesser weight in scales for myself, knowing myself to have an even greater value...”

His first prediction rang true, as the very next week, the dragon found that, while some may approach a strange, glowing hole, none would venture near a glowing dragon. It was fortunate to find a deer whose leg had given out, yet knew such luck would not hold. So, it instead flew to the village it had observed, slithering through the air as a serpent does along the ground.

It was soon approached by wary soldiers, and so took a step back. “Hold, please, and hear my words. I have been subject to an unfortunate mixed blessing at the hands of a friend wizard. I bear you no ill will, and I entreat you, please, spare for me but one deer a week on which I may sustain myself. In return, I will gladly guard your livestock, or protect your merchants through the woods - none who wish either harm would dare approach with a dragon on guard. And, should some beast or bandit prove me wrong on this, I may sate myself on them and you may keep the requested deer.”

Its well-spoken plea fared well enough to gain audience with others, and soon the village elder. She accepted its proposition without hesitation, and the dragon soon found itself many friends with the farmers, whom it would often see in the fields, the oft-traveling merchants and their family, and even a number of others who simply wished to see what all the fuss was about with the new addition to the town.

After a month, again, the wizard sought out the dragon, and when he failed to find it, he sent his attendants to ask in the village, in case they had unwittingly pilfered his quarry. They returned well before expected, with news of a glowing dragon. So the wizard invited it to his temporary house, so as not to anger the villagers with his next curse.

“Hail, dragon, I see you have found the villagers well.”

“I have indeed; they are a friendly people and have accepted me eagerly.” It beamed at him, and not only with its magical light. “No longer am I solitary, and this is a greater gift than your first.”

“Well!” the wizard exclaimed, his face tight as he suppressed his aggravation, “as a tribute for your... profound luck, would you take a third? I understand my last curse proved, shall we say, substantial, so I shall not feel slighted if-”

“Your generosity knows no bounds, friend wizard,” it eagerly replied. It wiggled its entire body, shaking its mane about before settling into a more somber expression. “Although, my request is not so optimistically fueled as before. One of the town’s young has complained of pain in her back for weeks on end, now, and it disquiets me to see her suffer as such. Is it within your power to grant the power to heal? I will gladly bear a curse for such a boon - not merely to me, but to the town.”

He thought for some time on this - he could not include the feigned “balance” curse he had used to disguise his own intentions, but at the same time, surely it would not survive long enough to discover the depth of his deception. A black beam, and a white beam, and the glowing dragon was reduced to barely a man’s height from nose to tail. “A powerful blessing comes with a powerful curse, I’m afraid. I hope I will see you again, dragon,” he concluded, and left out that he would prefer the dragon not be alive to see him in return.

The long, yet now much shorter, creature snaked out of the darkness. It soon found the girl with the hurt back, curled around her, and, in a flash of light, healed her body. She hugged it tight, tears of joy in her eyes; its eyes, too, were wet, but it did not smile. It soon flew to the village elder, who looked concerned at the dragon’s new state: both its size and its tearful visage.

“I sought a blessing from my friend once more, to be able to heal. However, you see its cost.” It gestured to its diminutive body. “No longer am I fit to guard against bandits, and should a wolf happen along while I am about, at best it may take me rather than a cow or sheep. I thank you and your village kindly for all that you have done for me, but I will not burden you with my upkeep unduly.”

It turned to leave, but before it could leap into the sky, the elder spoke up. “Now you hold it right there, dragon! If you think we’d kick you out just because you’re capable of less now, we must’ve given you a horrible impression this past month, or else you weren’t paying any attention! We didn’t abandon Yosef when he broke both arms, we didn’t abandon Rivka when she fell deathly ill for two months, and we certainly aren’t going to abandon you just because you’re a mite smaller!” She grinned at the dragon, and it stared back at her and wiped its eyes with the back of its paw. “I may not know where or who you were before, but now you’re here and ours, and most importantly, you’re us.”

It took all its restraint to not pounce at her with a joyous hug, but even with its new healing power and smaller form, it figured it was best not to risk her health, barreling into her like that. And so the dragon remained in the village, playing with those out and about, running errands here and there with the great benefit of flight, and helping guide visitors and children safely to the village from the woods and mountain. And it was fed, and some people even offered it beds, while others lightheartedly accused them of trying to steal the dragon.

And one month passed again. The wizard cast a spell to point him to the dragon’s body, for surely it would be difficult to find, even glowing as it was. He was surprised to see the spell guide him to the village, and began to think of what to do if the villagers had taken it out themselves, and tried to steal his prize. However, this plotting was interrupted by a cheerful voice.

“Friend wizard! You have come to visit me, here?” The dragon scarfed down a bite of chicken, quickly told a nearby child, “don’t do that, I’m being a bad example,” and flew through the air to land in front of him.

Frustration and jealousy boiled over into rage. After an entire season away from his lavish tower, trying and failing to subtly kill the dragon, his temper snapped. “You stupid lizard!” he shouted, his face twisted into a snarl, “three times I’ve hit you with a curse that should have left you starving alone in the wilderness, and three times you’ve lived through it! By the king’s orders, I came here to slay a dangerous, greedy creature, and by the fates, I shall!” As he raised his staff, a wild wind whipped up around the two of them. Children were quickly ushered indoors, and the few villagers who tried to lunge in and scoop the dragon away from the apparent madman were tossed aside by the sudden storm.

“Wh- you... you weren’t trying to befriend me?” the dragon asked, shocked and hurt.

“Why would I do that?!” the wizard shouted, “I came here to end you, not see you flourish. Now die, foul vice, die!”

The wizard pointed his staff at the dragon. A bolt of lightning shot from the tip, crackling through the gap only a couple of feet across, directly at its snout. There was no time to talk. There was no time to move. The spell would hit the dragon squarely with every ounce of the wizard’s power.

And then, just like the dragon’s paw had, several months before...

The spell bounced back and slammed directly into the wizard’s body. He lifted several feet off the ground, then fell to the dirt, unmoving.

Miles away, the king felt his sense of unease suddenly lift. He smiled, and quietly thanked the wizard for doing what needed to be done.

[drakeandkatherine]

Reunion- Ch 2: alstroemeria (Drake x MC TRRAU FanFic)

Hello! I am so excited to show you guys the second chapter to Reunion!

I’m sorry this took sooooooo long to upload. My personal life has been super hectic lately, and I haven’t had time to really write! 

(Drake, Liam, Hana, Maxwell and any other The Royal Romance characters belong to Pixelberry! Katherine Delacroix belongs to me!)

Series Overview: Reunion is a short series about Drake Walker and Katherine Delacroix, along with their friends, Maxwell, Hana and Liam. In this series, we see the gang at a high school reunion, five years after they’ve graduated. There will be flash backs, taking place up to nine years ago (the start of high school) up to when they graduate. You’ll get to see how the gang came together, and how they fell apart, only to come back together, and the main focus is how Drake and Katherine come back to each other after years apart.

All chapters of this series are named after flowers, with certain meanings. This chapter is named “alstroemeria”. It has meaning of friendship, love, strength and devotion. They're often thought to represent mutual support. And the ability to help each other through the trials and tribulations of life. This chapter, it flashes back to where the group of five became friends.

Word count: 1578

Warnings: adult language, mentions of death and drinking

Tags: @burnsoslow​ @drakewalker04​ @marshmallowsandfire​

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future chapters!

Katherine and Hana spent the rest of their first day back after five years in Cordornia preparing for the next night. They tried to plan out just how long they would stay and who they would talk too if those people showed up.

“Hana, are you really sure we should be there that long? I feel like two hours is more than enough time to say hi, have a drink and get the fuck out of there.” Katherine complained as she fished for her pajamas in her suitcase.

“We came all the way here for this reunion, we might as well stay longer than two hours; possibly even the whole time, Kat.” Hana said, a small chuckle escaping her lips. “Besides don’t you wanna see Olivia again?”

“I don’t really want to see much of anyone to be honest, Hana. I’d rather go get a couple drinks and maybe say hi to Olivia, if she even shows up and then I want to bounce.” The truth was, she did miss Olivia and all the fun nights the three had during junior and senior year, she just wasn't going to admit it.

Hana shook her head and continued to put away her clothes in the dresser that they shared in the room as Katherine changed into her pajamas. “Should we order room service?”

“I think a better question is, can we order alcohol?” Hannah laughed.

-

The next day as Katherine was preparing herself mentally, her mind wandered back to sophomore year of high school, the year that Hana and her became friends with a few others who soon had become the closest thing to family she had had in a long time. Family, she sadly remembered, that barely talked to her or Hana anymore.

8 years ago

Liam and Drake were two of the most popular boys at the high school. Both were star football players and in the winter, star basketball players. A lot of the girls tried their best to get the boys to notice them, but sadly none of their efforts worked. It wasn’t until one Saturday in detention that they met two other girls who would soon become their best friends, as well as another man who was known for his shenanigans.

“Alright, this is Saturday detention. All of you know why you are here. Your assignment for today is to write an 1000 word essay on how you recognize that your actions have consequences. I will be in my office which is just down the hall and I will come check on you periodically to make sure you are writing quietly. Once the bell rings at 3 o’clock, you’ll be dismissed and can go home for the day.” Dean Constantine told the teenagers, a strict tone in his voice.

All of the students rolled their eyes but complied nonetheless. After about an hour of trying to focus on anything other than the assignment, a tall boy with sandy brown hair finally spoke, breaking the silence that hung in the room.

“All right, I’m kind of over the silence. Not sure if anyone else is, but hey guys, I’m Maxwell. I’m in here because I made a stink bomb in science class and the teachers weren’t so happy about it and neither were the other students.” He smiled triumphantly as if he was proud.

“That was you? I’ll never be able to get that smell out of my nose. Good job.” Katherine smiled. “I’m Katherine and I’m here because Hana,” she paused and pointed to Hana who sat next to her. “and I decided to go off campus for lunch and they found out and caught us when we were coming back.” She looked at the two boys sitting side-by-side a few rows behind them in the classroom. “What about you two?”

“Someone on the junior varsity team was giving me some lip, so, I punched him in the lip.” The darker haired boy said, holding up his hand to show the bruises on his knuckles. Katherine eyed him, wondering how strong he was.

“I got in trouble because I tried to break up the fight but the coach thought I had helped start it, so thanks to this one I am in yet another Saturday detention.” He playfully shoved his friend.

“Oh please, Liam. You would’ve been here regardless just because your dad makes you come here.” Drake laughed.

“Who’s your dad?” Hana asked.

“Well as Drake so helpfully mentioned, my dad would put me in Saturday detention regardless because it’s his way of keeping an eye on me. My father is the dean of the school, Dean Constantine.” Liam said, a somber look on his face.

“No shit, are you serious?!” Katherine asked, her eyes wide.

“Sadly.” Liam replied, expression flat.

“So what you’re saying is that you can leave whenever you want because you’re just gonna be here next Saturday anyway? Why are you here then?”

“Let’s just say it would be hell at home if I ditched.” Liam grimaced.

“And what would he do to us if we just got up and left?” Katherine asked, Hana giggling next to her.

“He probably would just give you guys another Saturday detention to be honest. Most of the students here never do anything that would require suspension or expulsion.” Drake explained.

“I think it would be wise if you guys just got through this day and not provoke the beast.” Maxwell chimed in, not wanting to get into any more trouble, as he was in Saturday detention almost as often as Liam.

“Really? Because I say that when it gets to lunch time we all sneak out, get past him and then ditch this place and go to the beach or something.”

“Katherine as much as I love that idea I really don’t wanna have another Saturday detention. My parents would literally kill me.” Hannah said with a frown on her face.

Katherine didn’t much care what happened to her but she did care what happened to her best friend, so, even though it frustrated her and as much as she wanted to leave this hellhole, she nodded, agreeing, before saying “You’re right, Hana, we should probably just stick it out and then go back to my house.” She looked at the three men surrounding them. “I know we just all met each other but you guys are welcome to come with us to my house afterwards. My grandma is a nurse and she works mostly night shifts so she’ll be gone, meaning we can raid the liquor cabinet.” Last year, Katherine would have never asked this to anyone besides Hana. Becoming friends with Hana had made her enjoy life again, made her want to make friends again.

“You drink?” Liam asked, sincerely.

“Usually Hana and I will sneak a couple drinks sometimes but we don’t usually drink.”

“Well if your grandma has some whiskey, I’d be down.” Drake said. “My old man, before he passed, would drink whiskey all the time. Sometimes he would let me have a little sip. I always told myself once I was old enough I have glass in his honor.”

Katherine’s felt tugs on her heart strings. She felt for Drake since, she too, knew the pain of losing a parent. The difference is that she lost both of hers. Though she didn’t really know him so she didn’t know if his mom was still in the picture.

“All I know is is that I don’t want to deal with my brother when I get home so I'm gonna go where you go, Katherine.” Maxwell said, saluting her as if she was the group’s leader.

“And then there was one.” Katherine smiled at Liam.

“Well I have nothing better to do and it’s better than going home to my dad who's always in a bad mood, so, sure I’m down.” Liam smiled softly, a hint of sadness showing before he quickly looked away, hiding his emotions.

“All right, it’s settled then. After we get out of here we will follow Katherine back to her place and we’ll have a good time.” Hans said, clapping in her hands in excitement.

As soon as 3 o’clock came around and the bell dismissed them, Katherine took off running as soon as she was out the door, the rest running close behind her. ”Come on guys, what are you? A bunch of snails?” Katherine laughed as she ran on ahead.

Drake and Liam quickly caught up to her. “You wish we were snails. Not our problem you decided to choose a race between two star football players.” Drake smirked. Maxwell caught up to them a minute later saying “And I’m on the track team!”

Katherine slowed down matching Hana’s pace, chuckling. “Jokes on them, they don’t know where I live.” The girls laughed when the men came to a stop, wondering where they were going. Katherine then proceeded to show them the rest of the way to the house and instead of running they walked.

Present

“Hey, Kat, are you okay?” Hana’s voice snapped Katherine out of her memories. She turned her head and looked at her best friend in the entire world, who had a worried look on her face.

“I’m just having a little anxiety about tonight. What am I going to say to him if he shows up?” Katherine said, panic showing on her face. If he showed up, she didn’t know what she would do. Katherine wasn’t sure if she was ready to face the reality of what happened to them.

“I think you’ll know when the time comes. I can’t tell you what to say, it wouldn’t be authentic.” Hana gave her a small smile. “Now come on, it’s time to put on your make up and get dressed!” Katherine threw a pillow at her, making both of them laugh.

“Okay. Let’s do this.” She said, rising from the bed and walking to the bathroom to start her make-up. Katherine wasn’t sure how tonight would go, but she couldn’t run anymore. She had to finally face him.

[ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa]

Bury Me Face Down

A Max Phillips x Reader BTVS AU One-Shot

Summary/Author's Note: You are a Slayer. One girl born into the world for the sole purpose of hunting down the paranormal and keeping people safe. But what happens when the Order you work for sends you a Vampire to be your mentor?

Okay. I caved. An idea that stemmed entirely from my wife @vaxxildan and was pushed upon me by a few of my favorite people. (/Cough/ Stevie, Rachel, & Ash) so, fuck it-- this is part of my Follower Appreciation Week. I love you girls. This is a ONE SHOT for now. I may do drabbles or another part if inspiration strikes but I have a lot going on at the moment. [Title Song]

Pairings: Max Phillips x Slayer!Reader Word Count: Warnings: R--Blood, language, death, violence, stabbing/staking, sassy douchebag vampire Max in all of his glory, sexual tension/themes

[MASTERLIST] 

"And I haven't seen him in five days! He's a good boy--gets straight A's! He's going to be a lawyer, you know?" She blew her nose into the overused tissue in her hands as you slid the entire box across the desk and she mumbled her thanks.

"What was he majoring in?" You said, trying to connect to the crying mess of a woman in front of you.

"Philosophy." She blubbered out and as she blew her nose the man sitting next to you let out an undignified snort.

You glared at him and he tried to turn the laugh into a cough before motioning to the client. "Excuse me," he apologized with a nod. "Please continue, Mrs. Garcia." 

"Ms." She corrected, batting her big, watery, doe-like eyes at him.  "I'm divorced."

Unbelievable. This suburban soccer mom was crying to you to find her missing son, and she still couldn't resist putting the charm on your partner. You knew this was the effect he had on normal women, but it still never ceased to baffle you. He gave a small smile and another nod, correcting himself and addressing her by the title she offered and asking her once again to go on with her story. 

"Like I said," she put her hands in her lap and played with the pleats of her skirt. "I haven't heard from my sweet Jason since last week." 

"Did anything new happen to him the last time you spoke?" You asked, jotting down a few quick notes on your yellow pad of paper. 

"No, I don't think so. Wait--" she said, abruptly making you look back up. "He met a girl."

"Oooh, nooo," your business partner said next to you, his voice sounding full of utter despair, drawn out just enough that the client would think he was sincere while you knew he was mocking her. You kicked his foot under the table and he bit his lip. 

"Do you think that's important?" She asked hopefully and you made another note. 

"It's hard to tell, Ms. Garcia. Anything else?"

"He said he has been feeling really tired all the time. Like no matter how much he sleeps, he is always so drained." 

"Maybe he has mono."

"Max." You hissed, kicking him again as the woman blew her nose loudly. 

The truth was you knew what was wrong with her son. It was the same thing that had been wrong with five other boys at the community college on the other side of town. All of their parents had sat across from you in this office, begging you to find them and bring them home safely. 

Max cleared his throat and sat up a little straighter in his chair. "Ms. Garcia, does your son play sports?"

"Why, yes," she nodded. "He plays varsity soccer. He's on a scholarship for it."

"Ah, I thought that might be the case," he nodded and you wrote it down. Max never took notes and it drove you up the fucking wall. 

"Is that a clue?" She asked, hopefully. 

"Just trying to find out as much as we can." You looked at the photo that she had brought, and felt a little saddened. Should you tell her that her son was dead? That he wasn't coming home? As you looked at the smiling yearbook photo of such a handsome young man it really struck you that you were tired. So very tired. "May we keep this for your file?"

"Of course. I brought extra." She said, somewhat proudly as she patted her knock off Michael Kors bag in the chair next to her. 

Max glanced at you and saw that you had retreated back into your thoughts. After six months of working together, he knew when it was time for a breather. He looked back to the client and adjusted his suit coat before standing up. 

"That's all we need for now, Ms. Garcia. We will be in touch if there is anything new or if we have more questions." He walked around the table and waited for her to grab her purse before he led her to the door. 

"You have my number, correct?" She looked up at him with hopeful eyes as he towered over her. 

"Yes, it's in your file." He gestured back to the table. 

"Feel free to call me, anytime. And I mean...anytime." She touched his yellow pocket square on his chest and he chuckled deeply. 

"Of course," he said, moving her hand off of him like it was something slimy and undesirable. She didn't seem to notice.

You rolled your eyes as the door clicked shut behind her and Max leaned against it with a heavy sigh. "Really?" You asked and he raised an eyebrow.

"What?"

"Do you have to do that?" You ask, gesturing to the door. 

"I was absolutely, one hundred percent, professional."

"Ah, yes, I forgot you cannot control the hordes of lonely women that throw themselves at your feet." You scoffed, gathering your notes and the papers from the Garcia file and stacking them neatly. 

"It isn't my fault that my powers don't work on you. If they did then maybe you would believe that I didn't have any control over that situation," he waved his hand in a circle indicating the woman who had previously been occupying that space. 

Max was right about that. Since the day you met, his telepathic powers of suggestion had failed to work on you, and it wasn't for his lack of trying. You had chalked it up to your natural Slayer resistances. Just another talent in your arsonal to go with the above average strength, extended life span, and ability to get your ass handed to you by the undead and walk away without so much as a limp. 

He shimmied out of his suit jacket, hanging it on the coat rack before moving back to the desk and sitting on it. "Besides," he grinned down at you, letting one leg hang off the table and leaning in close. "She's not my type."

"Get over yourself, Phillips." You rolled your eyes and walked over to the swivel chalkboard, turning it from the blank side that clients got to see, to the side that was full of your current notes on the situation.

"Ouch, back to the last name?" He put his hand over his heart like he was in pain. "Come on, Pookie. I thought we were past this?" 

Six months. Six whole months had passed since the Watcher’s Council had sent the most arrogantly frustrating man you had ever met to your doorstep. Max Phillips was, on the outside, the definition of most of the Watchers you had had the pleasure of meeting. He was intelligent and well read, but he was also vain and meticulously well dressed. His three piece bespoke suits were always pressed and tailored, his tie was always bright and made a statement, and you could have seen your reflection well enough to do your makeup in his leather shoes. His brown eyes sparkled as brightly as his jeweled cuff links, and his charm was only matched by his wit. The only unorthodox thing about him was that he wasn’t human. 

Before Max came into your life you were under the impression that vampires weren’t allowed on the Council. And until Max, that had been true. It went against everything they had stood for for the last thousand years or however long they had been in business. That business being to hunt and eradicate people exactly like Max. But someone on the council had fucked up--and fucked up big time. It was their fault Max was the way he was, and to make good on their transgressions they cut him a deal. Instead of death, they restored his soul, made him a Watcher, and after five years of service, he could be a free man...err, free undead man?

“Why won’t you just cut to the chase and tell her that her son is either dead or a vampire?” he asked and you shook your head. 

“We’ve been through this, Max,” you said thumbing through the file and getting familiar with everything you two had learned from your new client. “If we told them that, it would scare them off--we have to hold out hope.”

“I mean, sure, if you want to give them a nice comfy sense of delusion.” He shrugged and started to turn but stopped on his heel. “I’m still charging her our full rate.”

“You’re heartless.” You looked up from the file and narrowed your eyes on him. 

“Yes, exactly,” he gestured to his chest and said slowly like you were hard of hearing. “V-am-pire. Remember?”

“I meant your lack of empathy for humans never ceases to shock me.” 

“Honey, I was an asshole before I was turned,” he continued to hold his hand to his chest. “I may have died but my personality carried over into the afterlife.”

“Lucky me.” You gave him a large smile that was entirely too much teeth. Everyday with him was exhausting, just once you wished you could find a way to shut him up. Peace and quiet. A Max-less thirty minutes to hear yourself think would have been the best present he could ever give you. 

You moved to the chalkboard and taped Jason’s picture next to the line of other dead college boys. Of course there was a chance that Ms. Garcia’s son was still alive, but you seriously doubted it. By the time they came knocking at your door, most of the time, it was way too late. You had lost count of how many times you and Max had already solved the case before you even got up from the table. The two of you would share a knowing look as the person on the other side of the desk told their sob story, and by then it was all said and done.  

Max picked up a piece of chalk and blew the dust off of it distastefully. “Who still uses chalk? Can we at least get a smart board?”

“We can’t even afford a dry erase board, Max.” You took the chalk from his hand and tried to ignore the lingering brush of his fingers against the back of your hand. 

Times had been tough. You had opened this little detective business out of necessity for money, not many places were hiring someone with your specific background and skill set. But there had been an alarming increase in the amount of vampire related deaths in this small town, and that was something you could help with. 

“You asked if Jason played sports,” you said, writing your notes neatly next to the boy’s picture. “Was there a point to that question?”

“There is always a point to what I say.” He grinned, unclipping his cuff-links and starting to roll up his sleeves. 

“Max.”

“Okay, okay,” he held up his hands in surrender as he leaned his ass against the desk and crossed his arms over his broad chest. “Write this down. The first kid played football--”

You started a list at the top of the board and wrote down each sport as he ticked them off on his fingers.

“Then we had lacrosse,” he tapped a different picture on the board. “Track. Swimming. And then--” he tapped his finger on the last boy in the row and bit his lip. “What was this one?”

“Ultimate Frisbee.”

“Right!” He snapped his fingers and shook his finger at you in conformation. “The one you thought wasn’t a sport.”

“Because it’s not.”

“And that’s where we disagree.”

You rolled your eyes and finished writing the list of sports off to the side. Crossing your arms, you shook your head. This wasn’t much to go off of--all victims had been junior or senior boys, all played sports and had the reputation for being stereotypical jocks. But despite what little they all had in common, so far they had all met the same end--left in the middle of the woods, completely drained of blood. 

“Look on the computer,” you said. “See if there are any cemeteries close to the university.” Max sat behind the desk and opened up your laptop, typing in the password and clacking away at the search engine. You looked at him and raised an eyebrow. “How do you know the password to my computer?”

“The same way I know you’re wearing that t-shirt bra for the fifth day in a row,” he mumbled without looking up. “I’m observant.”

You looked down at your chest on instinct before glaring back at him, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. “Well, cut it out.”

“As you command, sugar tits,” he smirked and before you could say anything he turned the lap towards you and pointed to the map of the university. “There are four cemeteries within hunting distance--but I say we start with this one.”

“Why?”

“It’s the only one with a mausoleum. Doesn’t matter the flavor of vampire--we all gotta sleep somewhere when the sun comes up.” He smiled, looking somewhat proud of himself and the expression almost made him look endearing. Almost. 

“Good job, Max.” You nodded before moving to write the address on the chalkboard and put it in your phone for later. 

“Oh, say that again--but slower.” He pouted his lips and pretended to give a full body shudder and you contemplated punching him. 

“Get some rest,” you tossed him the manila folder to put in the filing cabinet. “Eat,” you nodded to the mini fridge that contained his snacks from the local blood bank. “Be ready to go by nightfall.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, giving you a small salute after catching the folder. As you grabbed your car keys off the hook and your jacket off the coat rack, you could almost feel his eyes on your ass. Nothing in the world could have made you give him the satisfaction of letting him know though, but you did slam the front door a little harder than normal on your way out. 

--

The cemetery on the other side of town was just like every cemetery you had ever been in since you took on your role as a Slayer over a decade ago. You thought things were simpler back then, but looking back you weren’t entirely sure how you had lived this long. Slayers were notorious for burning bright and dying fast. They were an intense flame that danced with danger so often the odds were never stacked in her favor when it came to living to see the next sunrise. 

It was these odds that took your first Watcher from you. He was everything Max wasn’t. He was soft spoken, kind, and he cared for you. Against the Watcher’s code, he became the father you never had and in the end it had gotten him killed. Maybe that’s the reason they sent you Max in the first place, you needed someone to look after you that was a little more sturdy--a little less human.

You shined your flashlight on the ground as you and your partner walked another line of gravestones. This was your third lap around the plot lines and thankfully Max had been quiet for most of it. 

“You think she’s going to show?” he asked, putting his hands in the pockets of his slacks.

“She?” you looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Call it a hunch,” he shrugged.

“Oh, I gotta hear this. Please share your theory, Detective Phillips.” You tried to scoff but it turned into a laugh as he smiled sheepishly. 

“All the victims are male. All of them are jocks--most likely douchebag muscleheads--”

“Are you familiar with the type?”

He ignored your quip at his expense and continued talking. “I’m guessing we are dealing with a female vamp, scorned by an ex boyfriend and now that she has the power to do something about it, every poor sap that resembles him is getting the ax.” He drug his thumb across his Adam's apple and made a ‘ack’ noise in the back of his throat. 

“Solid theory,” you nodded, having to hand it to him.

“I’m also guessing she’s freshly turned by how messy the kills are and the tearing on the bite wounds.”

“Tearing? The police reports didn’t say anything about tearing.”

Max nodded and looked down at his shoes as the two of you turned the corner of a new row of gravestones. “Vampire fangs are like hypodermic needles--hollow on the inside. Let me show you.” You both stopped and he turned to face you. He held up his first two fingers and curved them down to imitate fangs, placing them on the side of your neck. “If done correctly and you bite straight down, then pull straight back up once you’re done,” he mimicked the action with his hand, pressing the blunt edges of his nails against your tender skin, making your arms break out in goosebumps. “The bite is hardly noticeable.”

“And if you pull out too quickly or to the side, it tears the skin?” You asked, swallowing hard and letting your shoulders relax as he moved his hand away from your neck. 

“Exactly,” he nodded. He held your gaze for an extra moment before clearing his throat and the two of you continued the path down the middle of the road that led to the mausoleum. “Unless you’re an experienced vampire, you don’t have the control to keep the bite that clean.”

“Charming,” you grimaced and he chuckled.

“What? Does a big, bad slayer like you not enjoy talking about fangs and blood?” He teased and you stayed quiet. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t like talking about those things, you lived those things, fangs and blood were a part of your daily life. It was that you weren’t particularly fond of hearing him talk about those things. Lately the moments it became increasingly apparent that Max was undead had started to make you uncomfortable. But like all thoughts and feelings you didn’t fully understand, you pushed them down and compartmentalized them until they faded away. 

A crash of glass came from the back of the stone building and you thanked the universe for saving you from having to answer Max. The two of you looked at each other and you dropped your shoulders to let your leather jacket slide off into your hands. 

“Show time?” you asked, putting the jacket over a small statue of an angel with outstretched arms. 

“Absolutely.” Max mirrored you with his suit coat. He left the cuff-links at home to make it easier to roll up his sleeves. He adjusted his tie and tucked it into his vest for dramatic effect and you fought not to roll your eyes. He cracked his neck and if you weren’t staring at him you would have missed the flash of yellow amber that engulfed his normally brown irises. You were never going to get used to that.

You had a wooden stake in the holster on your thigh, freshly sharpened and ready for whatever was about to come around that corner. You hoped this was the vampire that had been killing all of those boys. You hoped this was the night that the two of you could finally stop this string of murders and crying parents.

“Take right, I’ll take left,” you nodded your head in each direction and watched as Max returned the motion before disappearing into the shadows on his side of the building. 

With eyes and ears straining for any sign of movement, you were careful of your steps. Your boots found easy purchase on the soft, marshy ground as you scanned the treeline on the other side of the pointed wrought-iron fence. Freshly turned baby vamps were your least favorite. There was a certain level of feral-ness to them that made them more dangerous. They lunged, they fought, they bit and scratched without abandon. Their actions were unpredictable and sporadic as they literally fought for their life with about as much coordination as a baby deer with too many teeth. You knew the myth that baby venomous snakes were deadlier than their parents--well, it was actually true when it came to vampires. 

Another sound came from the back of the building and you quickened your pace. Just as you topped the small hill at the back of the crypt a blur of white hit you at full speed like a freight train. Your back hit the ground hard. The dull pain of a stone or something blunt on the ground blossomed  between your shoulder blades and took the air from your lungs. Whatever had hit you landed on top of your chest, making breathing more difficult than it already was.

“Fuck!” you gave a strangled gasp and threw your forearms up to cover your face and neck. 

Just like you expected, it was a vampire. If it was the one you were looking for, that didn’t matter right now. All that mattered was getting it off of you. 

It’s blonde hair fell around you as she hissed and spit and flashed her fangs. Her face was grotesque, pinching in the middle towards her nose, her cheekbones sat way too high up on her face, and the curve of her eyebrows arched in an almost cat like way that made her skull look perpetually angry. Her yellow eyes looked sickly and diseased, the black of her pupils forming into an elongated slit.

You pulled your fist back the second she closed her mouth and punched her in the jaw. She reeled back a bit but it didn’t get her off of you. “Have you been killing those boys at the university?”

“They got what they deserved,” she snarled and you nodded. 

“That answers that.” 

Max had been right and you were never going to hear the end of it. You pulled your knee up and tried to press it into her chest. With the right amount of leverage, she toppled backwards and you held onto her letting the momentum pull you to your feet. You stumbled and caught yourself on a gravestone catching your breath before she grabbed you by the hair and slammed you into the marble wall of the crypt. You bit your lip, refusing to cry out and instead said through gritted teeth, “Where's Jason? Where’s your new boyfriend at?”

“Dead,” she smirked, pinning your arm behind your back and leaning in to whisper against your hair. “Where’s yours?”

“Right here!” Max said as he barreled into her and took her to the ground over one of the benches intended for visitors and mourners. He grabbed her by the base of the neck and snarled in her face as he bounced her skull off of the sidewalk. 

His face was contorted much like hers and as you slowly got to your feet, you forced yourself not to look away from it. That was the real him and you didn’t see it as often as you probably should in order to remember that. You pulled the wooden stake from its holster and started walking towards them.

“Max!” You called and he looked over his shoulder and caught your eye. 

He looked at the stake before giving a short nod and flipping the two of them over. He braced his arm as he held the snapping, snarling woman away from his face and you stood over her. With a raise of your arms and a quick line of sight to make sure you hit the heart, you brought the sharp piece of wood down into her back and felt it go through to the front of her chest. 

She screamed, jaw widening before her entire body exploded in a cloud of black dust that quickly dissipated into the night air leaving no trace of her existence. You let out a hard breath and held out your hand to help Max stand up. 

“Thanks,” you said, as he took it and got to his feet. 

“Any time.”

“She got the jump on me. I’m off my game.” You shook your head and silently cursed yourself for letting it happen. 

“I see that.” Max motioned to your cheek and you watched as his pupils dilated like a great white shark. His face was once again the smooth perfection that it always was, but his eyes stayed that alarming yellow.

You touched the apple of your cheek and it felt wet, the bright red drops of your own blood sat on the tips of your fingers. “Shit.” It was as if bringing your attention to it made a dull ache settle on the side of your face. “I guess she got me against the stone.” You nodded back to the pillar of the crypt and went to wipe it off on your jeans.

“Wait,” Max said curtly as his hand shot out and wrapped around your wrist. The muscles in his neck twitched and if he had a working heart you were fairly certain you would have been able to hear it from where you stood. His tongue licked his bottom lip slowly.

“Max--” you cautioned, starting to pull your wrist back but his grip tightened. 

“Tell me to stop,” he said, flatly.

It wasn’t a command, it was a challenge. If you wanted him to stop, he would, but he was banking on the hunch that you didn’t want him to stop. He knew that after months of back and forth, of testing each other, and pushing one another’s buttons, it was bound to come to a head eventually. If you were being honest with yourself, Max fucking Phillips was the only constant thing in your life recently, and that should have scared you to death. 

“Even I know--it’s a shame to waste a single drop of Slayer blood.” He brought your fingers to his mouth and held your gaze as he wrapped his lips around them, hollowing his cheeks gently and sucking the small amount off your skin. You bit your lip and blushed as he freed your fingers with a gentle pop and hummed. “Just like I thought.”

“What?” You asked, hating how breathy and soft your voice was.

“That’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted.”

The groan that came from the back of your throat was downright shameful but you wanted to do anything in your power to wipe that look off of his face. If you looked insufferable up in the dictionary, you knew there would be a picture of Max, but that didn’t stop you from raising up on your toes, putting your hand behind his neck and crashing your mouth against his. He closed those unnerving yellow eyes and dropped his head slightly so you didn’t have to stretch as far. When you felt his large hands settle on your hips, you knew it was game over. 

Max tasted just how you thought he would, like expensive liquor and a twinge of copper, the latter not being something you particularly wanted to dwell on. You gave up control of the kiss and let his tongue slip inside your mouth and taste you as well. Fair is fair. When you tried to pull back his head followed you like a dog on a leash and you gripped his hair to keep him at a distance. 

“Oh, boy--” you said, any anticipation you felt was mixed with the regret and trouble that would undoubtedly come with kissing Max Phillips. 

He chuckled deeply and wet his lips again with his tongue, the action plucking the chords of things low in your body. “Oh, boy, is right, sugar tits.”

“Shut the fuck up,” you sighed heavily and shoved him back against the concrete before devouring his mouth with your own again. Maybe if he didn’t speak you could pretend like whatever was happening wasn’t the end of the world as you knew it. 

“Yes, ma’am,” he mumbled against your lips as he bent his knees slightly and put both hands under your thighs. As he lifted, you jumped and wrapped your legs around his waist. Once your arms securely around his neck, another moan bubbled out of you when he flexed his hands on your ass. 

You thought you would never hear the end about his theory being right about the vampire, but this--this was a whole new level of trouble. And trouble was never something you wanted or particularly went out of your way to seek, and yet, it always seemed to find you.

--

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