#anyway shout out to everyone else who's struggling and feels like a ghost

[alannah-corvaine]

Am I burnt out because Ive been playing this game for 10 years

Am I burnt out because I didn't care much for the last expansion

Am I burnt out on MMOs in general

Am I burnt out because Ive lost my entire friend group that I played with and now the game is an empty reminder of good times past

Am I burnt out because I feel like all I do is work eat and sleep and the depression is creeping in again and I can't keep up with taking care of myself

or maybe i just need a snickers, idk.

[q-gorgeous]

Baxter and Mr. Whiskers

fanfiction

ao3

word count: 1067

Danny (as Phantom or otherwise) finally Goes Off™ on Paulina (and/or the rest of the A-listers) for constantly risking their lives chasing him around at ghost fights. @paenling

more dash reveal fic wow who wouldve thought

“Phantom! Wait, wait!”

Danny could hear Dash shouting after him. He was trying to ignore him though in favor of trying to find the ghost that was just attacking him. He didn’t know where it could have gone.

“Phantom, please can I just have a second? I have a party invitation for you!”

Danny rolled his eyes and kept searching. Maybe once upon a time he would’ve jumped up for joy at the idea of Dash finally inviting him to another one of his parties. It always gave him a false sense of hope though. Once he got there everyone just made fun of him. He had no real hope of Dash changing anymore though. 

Where could this ghost have gone, anyways? He was just fighting it in this alley and then it was gone. Why would it just leave like that? Danny was right here. Did it find something else to play with?

A shout behind him sent a spike of panic through Danny’s stomach. He whipped around to see the cat-like ghost stalking Dash, phasing through one of the buildings that lined the alley. 

“Hey, Mr. Whiskers!” Danny shouted, as he tried to get the ghosts' attention. “I’m over here!”

He saw the ghost’s ears turn back but it ignored him. It continued creeping towards Dash and Danny could tell it was getting ready to pounce. 

Danny barreled his way towards Dash. He shoved him out of the way right as the ghost reached its mark and slammed him into the wall. He tried to stand back up but after struggling he fell back down. He saw his thermos rolling on the ground in front of him. It must’ve come loose from his belt when he was hit. 

Then, he felt his transformation rings as they tried to appear. He glanced at Dash to see him staring at him with wide eyes. He closed his eyes and willed the rings to go away, but he tried and tried until he could no longer push them back. They swept over him in a fluid motion, leaving him lying there in his human form. 

He opened his eyes again and Dash was still staring at him but this time his mouth had dropped open. 

The ghost still stood in front of Danny and he could see it now trying to stalk him. It was going in for another pounce when Dash started to move. 

He leapt back across the alley to where Danny was laying on the ground. Grasping the thermos in his hands, he fumbled with it until he pulled the cap off and found the button. 

Dash pushed it, and held the thermos with shaking hands until the ghost had swirled into it and disappeared. He recapped it and sat there for a moment before taking a deep breath and laying down the rest of the way on the ground. 

They laid like that for a while. Dash trying to come down from the adrenaline and fear while Danny willed his body to hurt a little less. Danny closed his eyes and swallowed before speaking.

“You’re stupid.”

“What?” Dash asked. Danny could feel as he shifted beside him and sat up, staring down at him. 

“You and all your friends.” Danny opened his eyes and met Dash’s gaze right above his. “All you do is follow me around while I’m fighting ghosts. You don’t care about your own safety. Hell, you barely care about mine. I got hurt protecting you today because you had to follow me around while the ghost I was fighting disappeared!” 

“But we just-”

“No!” Danny sat up even as his body protested. “There’s no excuse. There’s no reason for you guys to be doing this! What if one of you got hurt? Or died? I wouldn’t ever forgive myself.” 

Dash sat there quietly. Danny was about to get up and leave when he spoke again.

“Why do you even care what happens to us?” Dash asked, looking at him. “It’s not like you like us. We’re not nice to you. At least, not half of you.”

“What kind of person would I be if I didn’t?” Danny looked away. “I’m the only one who can properly protect Amity Park. Sure there’s my parents but they can’t respond fast enough. Or the Red Huntress but she’s too ruthless. She doesn’t care what happens to the ghosts.”

Dash looked down. “I’m sorry for getting in your way today. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t think about it. About the danger. I figured you always protect us, it can’t hurt.”

Danny groaned and rested his forehead on his knees. “It did hurt.” 

“Sorry.”

“Just.” Danny turned his head back towards Dash and opened his eyes. “Stop doing it.”

“I will. I’ll even try to convince everyone else to stop doing it. Paulina’s got kind of a weird obsession with you, though. It’ll take her a lot of convincing to get her to stop.” 

Danny snorted. “Don’t you have a weird sort of obsession with me too? I go to school with you. I know everything you say about Phantom.”

Dash blushed. “No! Her’s is creepy! She’s got like, pictures of you in her locker taped up with a condom. I don’t do anything like that.”

Danny wrinkled his face at that information. “I don’t think I wanted to know that. That’s a little weird.” 

“Yeah! That’s what I’m saying! She doesn’t believe me though.”

“I think we should get up and out of this alley.” Danny said, looking around. I’m starting to notice how dirty it is down here.”

Dash looked around and made a face. “Gross. I was lying in this.”

“Me too.” Danny stood up and looked back at Dash and held a hand down to him. Dash grabbed it and Dann pulled him up. “And thanks. For being understanding. It is annoying being followed around all the time as Phantom, but I really just don't want you guys getting hurt.”

“Maybe I can make it up to you?” Dash pulled a wrinkled invitation out of his pocket and handed it to Danny. He ran his finger over the paper as Dash started talking again. “We wanted to thank Phantom for everything he’s done. That’s what the party was for.”

Danny smiled. “Maybe I’ll have to make an appearance. Or two.” 

Dash smiled back at him. “Yeah! That sounds cool.” 

“Yeah.”

[juyeoniemyhoney]

make you feel my love

Losing means nothing to Ishikawa when he has you.

pairing: ishikawa yuki x reader

genre: fluff, established relationship

warnings: i don’t think there’s any!

word count: 2074 words

A/N: i honestly dont know who wants to read this but im just gonna post it anyways HAHA so here all you ishikawa simps pls enjoy<3

--------

It all happens at once.

The noise— screams of all pitches and encouragements of all sorts, forming a raucous cacophony in the large gymnasium— halts almost immediately; like a vacuum has sucked it all up and the only thing that is left is an eerie stillness as everyone waits in antsy anticipation for the player to serve.

And then he is running up, throwing the ball great lengths into the air and jumping to meet it halfway, hitting the ball with such force and determination you can almost feel the impact yourself. The ball hurtles through the air and crosses the net with such speed you almost don't see it.

But the Japanese team does. Their libero, Yamamoto, crosses the court in a flash and bumps the ball up so high up it gives his teammates half a second to breathe before they are rushing to connect it, the setter, Sekita, tossing the ball higher in the air for Ishikawa to hit it.

The tall Brazilians loom over him like a curse, like bad karma, as determined as the Japanese are, but not nearly as desperate. Ishikawa does not mind them and he bravely hits the ball with as much strength as his worn out body allows him, sending every last bit of energy into this spike, hoping, praying, practically begging for it to work, for the ball to hit the other side of the court with such violence that the Brazilians would not be able to even react before it hits the floor.

The next thing you know, the ball hits the hands of the Brazilians and is spindling down towards the floor at breakneck speed. Yamamoto, Sekita and Ishikawa (when he lands), all throw themselves to the floor in a desperate bid to save it, to not let it touch the floor, to not let all their hard work be washed down into a drain. But to no avail.

The ball hits the floor with a resounding thud. The whistle blows and all at once, the Brazilian supporters leap from their seats and yell and scream and shout with unadulterated joy. Because they have won! They have won the game! And the Japanese have lost. The Japanese team and their supporters are quiet in the wake of their loss. You do not move, almost as if if you did, the bleachers would crack open, the earth beneath the gymnasium would cave in and you would be falling to the floor, through the soil and to the core of the earth.

The three men lift themselves up from the floor with the weight of defeat on their shoulders and their teammates pat their backs silently, looking solemn but trying to be as encouraging as possible. The team gathers at the end line of the court and another whistle blows, signalling both teams to bow. When Ishikawa's eyes hit the floor, so do the tears.

He cries in silent agony, somehow feeling like it is all his fault. He is the captain, he should have led them better than this. He is the ace, he should have been able to hit pass those blocks. He knew hitting hard was risky, he should have been more careful. He should have moved faster, reacted faster, gotten to the ball faster. He should have been sharper, more alert, better. He should have been better.

His teammates shed a few tears too, but not quite nearly as much as Ishikawa. It's unrelenting— his tears. It doesn't want to stop, even when Ishikawa roughly wipes at his eyes in frustration, desperately wanting the raw showing of emotion to stop. Everyone can see him cry in this moment and he hates it.

When Ishikawa and his team begin to move off the court, is when you break from your stunned daze. Quite frankly, you were shocked speechless. You knew Brazil was a tough opponent but your faith in your boys would always trump any form of doubt. You knew they could do it. You knew they would be able to do it. Until they didn't.

You do not see the tears from quite so far away, but when you do, you are ripping yourself from your seat with such great speed, the people around you jump in surprise. You do not care, you do not even really notice before you are sprinting down the stairs, leaping from each flight, ignoring the desperate calls of your best friend and the shocked expressions directed at you as you race to the exit of the court.

"Ishikawa Yuki!" you yell just in case you don't catch them in time. You know you could just call him or meet him at his house but you came as a surprise, and though you'd wish you could surprise him after his victory, you think that surprising him and being able to comfort him in his loss will mean just as much.

At the sound of your voice, his head whips around, eyes wide in shock as he desperately searches the people for your face, eyes glassy with unshed tears and vision slightly blurry. You jump off the rest of the stairs, running to him with flailing arms. And when Ishikawa sees you, you swear you see his lips pout, eyes glossing over as tears run down his face.

You grin and run to him and he drops everything, his water bottle, his towel, his jacket, everything, so that he can hold his arms open for you to run into and give him a big hug. And you do exactly that. You run straight into his arms, wrapping your arms around his torso and shoving your face into his chest, not caring at all that he is drenched in sweat (and possibly tears), not caring at all that almost the whole gymnasium full of people can see the two of you have such an intimate moment, not caring at all because Ishikawa Yuki, the love of your life, is in tears and you have to do everything in your power to stop that.

Ishikawa's arms wrap around you too, holding you so tight and dear to him, you swear the both of you stop breathing. And with you in his arms, he finally crumbles to the floor, tears spilling from his eyes and sobs escaping his throat in ugly, high-pitched hiccups. But he doesn't care, you don't care, he's safe as long as you're here.

"When did you get here? I thought you were only going to touchdown tomorrow," he whispers in between sobs, his shaking, swollen hand coming up to your hair and entangling his fingers with the strands messily. You pull away slightly and pull Ishikawa down so that your chin rests on his shoulder and he can bury his face into your neck, your hand coming up to his sweaty hair to run your fingers through the corse, tangled strands as Ishikawa continues to cry in your arms. This position is so incredibly uncomfortable. After all, Ishikawa is insanely tall and the top of your head doesn't even really reach his neck, and you're sure Ishikawa's back is going to hurt a little later but he doesn't seem to mind at all at the position change, indulging in you as he shoves his face into the crook of your neck, hot breaths that tickle your skin, coming out in pants as he struggles to control his sobs.

"I wanted to surprise you," you say with a fond smile, the hand that was idle on his back coming up to send a wave to his teammates when your eyes meet, even sending one to his coach, who just smiles bitterly at you. His teammates send you rueful smiles and thumbs-ups of approval before they make their way back to the locker rooms, leaving you and Ishikawa to continue embracing at the exit of the court.

Ishikawa lets out a tearful laugh, saying, "Well, I'm surprised alright. I was just thinking about you when you called my name. I almost thought I was seeing things.".

You laugh but do not reply, allowing a comfortable silence to take over as Ishikawa lets all his emotions out in the form of hot, regretful tears. Your hand continues to soothe him with pats and strokes to his back and your hand remains in his hair. Ishikawa's large hands fist your shirt at your waist as his tears and sweat seep into your shirt. You don't mind. Of course, if this were anyone else you would. But this is Ishikawa Yuki, and you love him more than anything else in this world.

"You played so well," you whisper after a while of silence. You can feel Ishikawa wanting to pull away from you but you do not allow him, knowing full well that he wants to pull away to argue with you, to debunk your words with his incessant humility, so you do not allow him. You do not allow him to deny himself the praise he very much deserves because he's worked hard for this, no matter the outcome, he and his teammates have worked his ass off for this, and the least you can do is praise him.

"Yuki, you played very well. Don't try and deny it," you say with a firm voice, hand on his head keeping his chin to your shoulder. At this, he finally laughs and you loosen your grip, allowing him to pull out of your embrace just enough for him to see your face.

His cheeks are tear-stained and his eyes are beginning to puff up with all his crying, red beginning to bloom at the corner of his eyes, slowly taking over the white. His smile is nothing short of breathtaking, swollen eyes and red lips curled up brilliantly, smile lines and the corners of his eyes creasing sweetly. You can't help but grin back when you see his smile, nose souring with endearment.

"You know me so well," he comments, fingers coming up to tuck strands of your hair behind your ear, fingers trailing down your jaw to your chin, tilting your face up just a little bit more. His fingers guide your head just slightly forward before he is meeting you halfway in a sweet kiss, grinning immediately after your lips meet his.

Ishikawa's eyes trace over your every feature, observing, remembering, ingraining; tracing over the curve of your eyes, the slope of your nose, the perk of your lips, the peak of your eyebrows, and the line of your jaw, fingers ghosting over each feature along with his eyes, all the while maintaining the smile on his lips.

Then, he is giving your forehead a sweet kiss before pulling out of your embrace fully, turning around to pick up the things he had dropped when you came running into his arms. He brushes off his jacket and drapes it across your shoulders, holding open the jacket for you to slip your arms into the sleeves, to which you do, before he is hooking the zip and zipping it all the way up to your chin.

In his mind, he laughs at the way you are dwarfed by his jacket. Your hands can barely be seen, only the tips of your fingers peeking out from the sleeves, and the jacket, where it usually ends at his hip, ends almost at your knees. Unconsciously, he smiles and has to physically restrain himself from pinching your cheeks.

After he zips up his jacket, he bends down to pick up his towel, draping it over his shoulder before he is bending down once again to pick up his water bottle, having set them down to help you put on his jacket. Then, without a word but with the largest, goofiest grin, he takes your hand in his and leads you out of the court and to the locker rooms in a comfortable silence, fingers intertwined with yours.

For a second there, he almost forgets that they lost the game and are not able to proceed to the quarter-finals. For a second there, he almost completely forgets about his regrets and anger and frustration. And it's all because of you. And of course, he is eternally grateful to you. After all, what on earth would he do without you? He would still be crying his ass off, that's what, though he would never admit it out loud. And it is because of this reason— though he would do it without a reason at all— that he kisses you a little longer, hugs you a little tighter, loves you a little more.

[redrobin-detective]

the only ghost in Amity Park

Continuation of Half Of

______________________________________________

Only in Amity Park did the revelation that a local teenager was sorta, kinda a ghost just blow over in a few days. Sure, people still stared at Danny Fenton as he walked by and everyone was still wondering what exactly he was, but overall life had moved on. Star sighed to herself as she organized her notebooks, waiting for class to begin. Just another day.

Star herself really didn’t want to get involved in whatever was going on with Danny. She didn’t like him before he was a celebrity and didn’t plan on starting anytime soon. While Paulina still relentlessly, and vainly, pumped him for information on her dead boy crush, Phantom and he and Dash formed some weird macho bond or whatever, Star avoided him. He’d given her the chills since the day he’d walked into Casper High. When Danny’s secret had been exposed mid-attack, Star hadn’t been surprised. She didn’t need some ghost to tell her that there was something deeply, unsettlingly wrong with Danny Fenton.

Danny didn’t seem particular bothered, by his inhuman nature or by suddenly having his secret exposed. If anything, the nerd looked more relaxed than ever. Star had been watching him, they all had, but Fenton kept his ghostly antics to a minimum when in public. The occasional flash of green eyes when emotional, a grin of sharpened teeth. He made Mikey’s locker lock intangible the other day when the kid had forgotten his combination and he floated down the stairs instead of walking sometimes. It had been a week and it was  frightening how quickly such strangeness had become almost normal. 

“Alright kids, phones and notes away we’re starting class with a pop quiz. Hope you’ve all kept up with your weekly readings,” Faluca announced cheerily. The whole class, including Fenton, moaned and packed up their bags. Star supposed being an undead being haunting his own life didn’t make him immune from normal human problems. She was biting her lip trying to remember which antibody caused allergic reactions when she got an uneasy feeling. She looked up and was not surprised to see Danny Fenton looking around too. It had been a solid week without ghost attacks, looks like Fenton’s supposed vacation time was up.

Star stopped her writing and adjusted the bag at her feet to prep for evacuation. She briefly wondered what Fenton would do, what he could do? Did he also hunt ghosts, like his parents? Like Phantom? There were no blasts, no screams, no monologues but the dread increased when a ghost shield descended over them. Actually, it looked like it was just covering their classroom. Now everyone was looking up from their quizzes and out the window at the flickering, green shield.

“You’d think the administration would’ve warned me we were going to do a drill,” Faluca said but his voice was hesitant. Clearly this wasn’t planned so despite the lack of alarms, there was a good chance this was real. “Pencils down for the moment while I figure out what’s going on.”

“Mr. Faluca, I need to go,” Danny said, raising his hand. Star was so used to hearing the request she almost ignored him but the dread curling in her stomach made her look again. His face was pinched, sharp and his eyes burned with an icy fury like a sudden storm blowing in without warning. 

“Mr. Fenton, I don’t think...” Faluca murmured uneasily. Danny frowned harder.

“It wasn’t a request, actually,” Danny said roughly as he stood up and began walking towards the door. He was almost there when the door slammed open and Fenton had no less than 3 ectoweapons pointed in his face. A few kids jumped back in alarm but Danny held his ground as half a dozen Guys in White agents entered the room and surrounded him.

“Spectral scum formerly known as Daniel Fenton, you’re coming with us,” one of the agents said. 

“Danny not Daniel and it’s still my name,” Danny quipped, eyeing each of the government officials and their weapons. “And no, I’m not. I’m still alive, somewhat anyway, so I have rights. The courts backed me up.”

“Everyone who signed for your freedom doesn’t know ghosts like we do,” Another agent said so forcefully, some spittle flew out of their mouth and hit Danny’s cheek. Star watched it freeze and fall away the instant it hit his skin. “Your kind are too dangerous to wander around, you need to be contained and eliminated. Don’t worry, your parents will receive a sizable check as recompense.”

“I’m the one who needs to be contained?” Danny said slowly, evenly but there was a static to his voice that caused the hairs on the back of Star’s neck to rise. When she breathed out, she saw her breath was misting. Everyone’s was as the room temperature continued to plummet. “When you come in here and take hostages to threaten me?” Danny hissed, he took a step forward and his eyes took on a neon green glow. “You didn’t come to my home or on the streets, you came to take me in the middle of biology when I’m surrounded by civilians, kids.”

“You delude yourself into thinking you’re still human,” another agent scoffed. “Everyone knows ghosts are weaker when giving into their obsession.” Danny laughed, it was loud and mocking and like fingernails running down a chalkboard. Faluca, stuck in between Danny and the agents, was white as a sheet and gripping his desk like it was the only thing keeping him from collapsing.

“You know nothing,” Danny hissed, his voice barely recognizable as human. His hair and shirt floated in an invisible but angry breeze. Frost crawled up his arms and his face. Various ecto alarms were ringing on the belts of the agents and they started to look a bit nervous. He looked nothing like the kid who, minutes before, had clearly been struggling with their bio quiz. “You have no idea what you’re dealing with. You cannot come into my haunt and threaten my people to get to me. Protecting what is mine will always make me stronger!” 

“This whole town is constantly under attack because of things like you!” One particularly brave agent said even as a few others had backed up. “Amity Park is on the verge of collapse because of all the ghosts!”

“There is only one ghost in Amity Park,” Danny said, he tilted his head, his black and white hair dangling in his face as he gave a sharpened smile. “There is only me and the ghosts I allow, ghosts who know the rules, who respect my authority here by keeping damage to people and property down. I am the only ghost haunting this town and why do you think that is?” One agent threw down his gun and ran through the open door.

“You’re-you’re a monster!” Another woman shouted, shaking as she stepped back before fleeing.

“I’m not the one who needs to threaten innocents to get to their target,” Danny sneered. “It’s a good thing you did though, I wouldn’t hold back if I wasn’t worried about collateral.” Another three agents turned tail and ran. Until there was only one left. His gun was still trained on Danny but his hands were shaking. 

“You don’t scare us,” the agent trembled through the obvious lie having been abandoned by his comrades. “We’ll get you monster, if it’s the last thing we do.”

“Looking forward to it,” Danny drawled sarcastically as some of his horrifying aura dissipated along with the freezing grip on the room. Within moments Danny has settled back into more human form. While he’d been angry before, now he looked almost bored. At no point had he seemed afraid. 

“You take your people and your equipment and you leave Amity’s borders by sunset tonight,” Danny declared resolutely. “If you have continued problems with my existence, you take it up with the courts. We settle this as humans but if you treat me as a ghost then I will fight back like one.” His eyes turned green again as a threat. As a promise. 

“I don’t take orders from spooks!” The agent shouted, securing his finger on the trigger and preparing to fire. Star had ducked to avoid the blast so she missed exactly what happened. All she saw was the green glow and heard a strangled scream from the agent followed by a series of thumps. By the time Star had gotten back into her seat, Danny was aggressively pulling apart the ectogun with his bare hands. There was no sign of the agent and, around them, the ghost shield fizzled away. 

“Jerks,” Danny grumbled, kicking at the remains of the ectogun he’d destroyed. “Sorry about that, Mr. Faluca. I knew they’d cause problems but I didn’t think they’d come to school.” Their teacher stared at Danny like a rabbit facing down a lion. “You okay?”

“Fine, Mr. Fenton, just fine!” Falcua grinned in a high pitched voice. “Shall we get back to our quizzes?” The bell rang just then and Danny did a little fist pump.

“Tomorrow then? After I get a chance to study more?” Danny asked with puppy dog eyes. It looked wrong on his face that had just threatened the government with bodily harm. Faluca just nodded dumbly, not sure what else to say. “Yes! I’ll pass tomorrow for sure. The attention kinda sucks but it does come with some perks.”

He walked back to his desk, ignoring the wide-eyed looks of the class when he stopped and gasped, his breath fogging in front of him. His lips pursed again with annoyance. A few people jumped in surprise as the Box Ghost, a familiar annoyance, poked his head through the wall.

“Child! Your requested reprieve is up and the Box Ghost is here to cause insurmountable square shenanigans!” He laughed heartily, stopping when the room temperature dropped again. Danny didn’t even turn to face the ghost. 

“Your watch is off, Boxy. I have another 10 hours before I have to deal with you annoyances again,” Danny growled. “I’m feeling good right now, take advantage of it and leave in one piece.”

“Uh right okay then,” the ghost stammered, sinking back into the wall. “See you tomorrow.” Danny cracked his neck before he walked to his desk, grabbed his things and walked to the front of the room.

“Late bell’s gonna ring any minute, you guys should hurry if you don’t wanna be late,” Danny said as he left. Falcua’s strength gave out as soon as Fenton was gone and he hit the floor, one hand clutching at his chest.

“Jeepers,” Mikey surmised appropriately before stuffing his things in his bag and leaving as well. Star watched everyone loosen up themselves and begin gathering their things to leave. No, she would never like Danny Fenton but he and his ghost weirdness was just part of the deal now, whether they wanted it or not. Such was life in the most haunted city in America which was only haunted by a single ghostly entity.

[storiesforallfandoms]

inspirational ~ corpse husband

word count: 1589

request?: yes!

“Hi! I was wondering if you could do a corpse husband imagine where the reader has a feeding tube? If you can’t that’s perfectly fine, I just haven’t been able to find one yet.”

description: in which the group plays with a popular streamer that has a feeding tube and corpse tells her how much she inspires him

pairing: corpse x female!reader

warnings: swearing, mentions of chronic pain and cancer, also i only know a little bit about feedings tubes, i tried to do research in order to make myself more familiar but if there’s a lot of inaccuracies or anything i am very sorry i’m gonna try my best

masterlist (one, two)

Corpse listened to his friends shouting at one another to accuse each other of being sus. As usual, there was no use in trying to get a word in. Corpse spoke so softly that no one would even hear him unless they wanted to hear what he was saying.

“(Y/N)!” Toast suddenly exclaimed. “You’re being very quiet right now.”

“Because my damn tube is mixed up in my headphone wires!” (Y/N) exclaimed, sounding like she was far away from her mic. The group chuckled and continued with their conversation about who they thought the imposter was.

(Y/N) was a known Twitch streamer and YouTuber that rose to popularity when she started a series on her YouTube channel to show her journey through cancer treatments. Long before his own sudden boom in popularity, Corpse had watched all of her videos and became invested in her Twitch streams as well. Being someone who also struggled with chronic illness and pain, Corpse felt a sense of hope watching (Y/N) go through her treatment and still seem to optimistic in life and so productive in her YouTube and Twitch channels.

When Toast messaged the Amigops group to ask if anyone wanted to join his Among Us lobby with (Y/N), Corpse jumped at the chance. He hadn’t had much time to speak with her alone, but he was hoping to be able to tell her how much watching her content lifted him up during his worst times.

The meeting ended with no one being voted and brought them back to the office of the Polus map. Since they were playing with proximity chat, the argument from the meeting immediately continued with Rae and Toast warning everyone to stay away from Sean, who they were susing at the second imposter after already voting out Charlie.

Corpse watched (Y/N)’s pink astronaut run out of the office, silent amongst the chaos. He waited a moment before deciding to follow her, hoping he could meet her somewhere alone so he could talk to her.

He ran into O2 and noticed a pink bean in the boiler room stood by the water wheels. He ran in and stood in the doorway a moment before speaking.

“Hello (Y/N).”

“Ah fuck!” (Y/N) exclaimed. “Corpse! Don’t scare me like that!”

Corpse chuckled. “Sorry, I’ll warn you next time.”

“Are you here to kill me?”

“Maybe.”

“I’m okay with that. I feel like being killed by Corpse Husband in Among Us is like a rite of passage at this point.”

Corpse slowly approached (Y/N) to which she quickly ran away from him to the other water wheel. He laughed again before assuring her, “I’m not an imposter, you can trust me.”

“I don’t think I can, but I will choose to trust,” she told him.

“I actually came looking for you because I wanted to talk to you.”

“What did you want to talk about?”

There were so many things running through Corpse’s mind. He just wanted to blurt out everything he had thought about (Y/N) and her story, to thank her for giving him hope, to tell her what an inspiration she was. But his words caught in his throat and he struggled to get anything out.

Finally, he said, “What’s it like trying to be a streamer with your...with the um...”

“The feeding tube?” (Y/N) finished for him. “You can say it, Corpse. It’s not exactly a secret.”

He sighed, glad that she had a joking tone about it. “Yeah, with the feeding tube.”

“It’s annoying,” (Y/N) admitted. “Like...I’m assuming you’ve seen my streams or my videos but for the sake of anyone watching your stream who hasn’t: I have a nasogastric feeding tube, or an NG-tube, which is a feeding tube that goes in through the nose. As cliché as it is, just picture Hazel Grace from the Fault in our Stars. Additional cliché, I have it because I had cancer and the treatments left me so malnourished that I need a feeding tube even after I’ve gone into remission. So, because it’s tubes that are connected in my nose, I keep getting my headphone wires tangled in my tube or, very rarely, my mic wires, and it’s fucking annoying. It hurts like a bitch when I go to stand up and I yank the wires  by accident or something.”

“Does...does anything else hurt? Because of the cancer or the treatment or anything?”

“Not as much as it used to. I went into remission like nearly a year ago, so I’m doing better. It’s a process, but it’s had an amazing outcome in the end so I wouldn’t change a thing.”

“I find you really inspirational,” Corpse finally blurted.

He felt his face heat up with slight embarrassment as (Y/N) giggled. “You do?”

“Yeah. I followed your series about your recovery and I’ve watched some of your livestreams every now and then. What always stood out to me was when you talked about the negative side effects of your treatment, and eventually having to put the feeding tube in and how you’ve found that effects you, too. Being someone with chronic illness and constant pain, I’ve also had those days where it feels like even getting out of bed is too much work and I don’t feel like I can stream or make a video, but then my anxiety tells me that everyone is going to forget about me if I don’t make some type of content, so it’s just an internal struggle when really I should be resting.”

“Being a content creator and having an illness is tough,” (Y/N) agreed. “It feels like you can’t take a day off. I sometimes regret making that series because on days that I felt absolutely awful, I didn’t want to film or edit anything, but I felt like I had to because so many people were watching. Ironically enough, that became the topic of one of those videos; I just sat in front of my camera looking the worst I think I’ve ever looked on camera and talked about how exhausted I felt just from being alive, but felt like I couldn’t rest because of my channel. That’s when I started taking longer breaks between videos and streaming. Your fans won’t leave you, not the true fans anyways. They’ll always be by your side even if you decide to disappear from the Internet forever.”

Corpse half smiled to himself. “I’ve thought about doing that sometimes.”

“It’ll be easy for you to do that where you’re faceless. No one would bother you even after you left the Internet cause they’d have no idea it was you unless you spoke.”

A brief pause in their conversation caused them to hear Sean yelling as he ran past the room. (Y/N) giggled and walked out of the room. Corpse followed, hoping to continue the conversation somewhere else.

“It means a lot to me that you think that about me, though,” (Y/N) continued as she ran into the storage room. “I find you pretty inspirational too.”

This took Corpse by surprise. He didn’t know how to respond. Sure, he heard that all the time from his fans, and it always meant the world to him to know that people found him to be an inspiration, but it felt different to hear that from someone he had looked up to for so long.

“I wish I could’ve been a faceless creator like you,” she said when Corpse didn’t respond. “One of my biggest regrets is probably showing my face online. Although, it wouldn’t make sense for me not to show my face when I’m making a series about cancer treatment, but people can be mean. Even when someone is struggling with illness or a disease, the Internet doesn’t care. Whatever makes them feel better over someone else feeling like shit.”

“I still get a lot of hateful messages even though I’m faceless, though.”

“You do, but you’re so unbothered by it. Publicly anyways. When I get messages about how sickly I look I get so overwhelmed with sadness and I just wanna delete my channel forever. I can’t even fake not caring because it really does effect me.”

“Stick with me, I’ll teach you my ways. My favorite is trolling the troll.”

(Y/N) chuckled. “I’d like that a lot.”

Corpse watched (Y/N)’s pink bean approach his black one. “I’m glad we had this chat, Corpse. It made me really happy, but now it also makes doing this a lot harder.”

Corpse gasped as a kill animation popped up on the screen and (Y/N)’s astronaut quickly disappeared into the nearby vent. He was stunned into silence for a long time, just watching his ghost floating above his dead body. To make matters worse, (Y/N) had closed the door to storage so no one would find his body unless they had to go in there.

Charlie’s ghost floated through the walls and came to float next to Corpse’s. “Figured out Jack wasn’t the other imposter, huh?”

“Yeah,” Corpse said, laughing. “She really had me fooled. Buttered me up with compliments then killed me.”

“I taught her well,” Charlie comments before floating away again.

Corpse couldn’t help but laugh about the situation. He wasn’t mad, more impressed than anything. And he was a little happy; he got to talk to someone that had always been an inspiration to him and he made a new friend.

[hiraethenthusiast]

"I love you most."| t.h.

pairing: actor!tom x reader

warnings: floof attack.

synopsis: tom gives you the best wedding you could've gotten. he's in love with you madly, that's what he says.

a/n: guess who wants this? i do. i absolutely adore a loving husband no matter what, and i adore heartfelt gifts even more! i hope you all like this fic, this one's really close to me! tpwk everyone!

listen to clinton kane's i guess i'm in love

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

“So do you, Y/N Y/L/N take Tom as your lawfully wedded husband?” The priest asks you while you and Tom look at him with impatience in your eyes.

“I do.” You say, making everyone cheer and making Tom smile.

“And do you Tom Ho-” “I do!” He shouts before the priest could even complete his sentence, making everyone at the altar erupt into laughs.

“Let him finish bubba” You laugh along, signalling the priest to go on when Tom mutters a small ‘sorry’ to him.

“Do you, Tom Holland, take Y/N Y/L/N as your lawfully wedded wife?” He asks again, while Tom looks at you with nothing but adoration in his eyes.

“I do.” And everyone cheers once again, and you gently squeeze his hand.

“So I shall now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.” The priest says lastly before getting off the stage and as if on queue, Tom sweeps you under his arms and holds your waist before pressing his lips to yours. The moment was wholeheartedly content, his and your parents, both with tears in their eyes, even Paddy and Harry shed a few, because the moment was so pure to just not cry at. Tom kisses you as if he was the luckiest man on Earth, like he had achieved something which he thought he could never. He pulls back to look at you beaming with the biggest smile he’s seen on you in years, and smiles to himself once again.

This was the best day of both of your lives till now, and there was no doubt about it.

After 4 years of being together, Tom finally proposed to you, and then forgot where he kept the ring, but you couldn’t care less because the man you were in love with was now, going to be a forever favourite in your lives. And today, he was now your husband from your fiance, and you couldn’t be anymore happier.

You both settle down after roaming from one place to another greeting every guest that had attended your wedding, finally for a drink and some food. Harrison sits right behind you, completing the duties of best man with all his will, and you smile at him. The twins and Paddy come in a bit later, but your eyes are looking for someone else. Where’s Tom? Your question was answered when you hear the clinking of a glass, just to find your handsome husband there.

“May I have your attention please?” He looks directly at you and you blow him a kiss, him pretending to catch it making everyone laugh. Actors.

“Thank you all for attending and being a part of our very wonderful day, I swear you guys are our favourite people” He says while chuckling.

“Today is the day I married my wonderful and stunning lover, Y/N and in recognition of that, I decided to give you the best gift of this evening.” He says, making you wonder what he got for you.

“I remember when Y/N once told me that she always loves heartfelt and handmade gifts filled with love more than people buying her the gift of her choice. She likes the element of surprise, as she likes to say. So Y/N my darling, I thought you might notice and scold me for it but you didn’t, not even once in this 4 year old relationship, and trust me this is going to shock you. I’ve managed to record every important and goofy moment of our lives, from falling on a staircase to the time I proposed to you, I have it all. I’ve compiled them into one sweet video for you, while your favourite singer of them all, Mr. Clinton Kane sings a song for us! Please give him a huge round of applause!” You jerk your head to the place where Clinton enters from, and he waves at you making you wave instinctively as well.

You look back again towards Tom, who was smiling sweetly at your little fangirl moment and continues.

“I’d also like to thank Harrison and Harry for helping me edit this video, because I’m literally so dumb without anyone of these four with me.”

“Can you put the lights out and start the video please?” He asks one of the workers there at the venue, and jogs up to sit down beside you, giving you a small peck while you take a hold of his hand.

And on queue, the lights are dimmed and the video starts to play. You can hear the faint strumming of the guitar that Clinton is currently playing, but you aren’t able to identify the song just yet. You look ahead towards the screen, and your eyes light up when you see Tom dressed up in his wedding tuxedo, you finally realising that this bit was filmed just a few hours ago.

“Hello my lovely wife! Well, I’m filming this part before the ceremony starts but I think I’m pretty certain on showing you this video after we’re married. This was...boring. Anyways, I hope you enjoy the video my love, and don’t hit me when we get home! I love you so so so much, enjoy!” He says before shutting off his camera, while everyone laughs at his goofiness and you glare at him playfully. The video rolls again and you look forward, but suddenly realise the song. It’s ‘I Guess I’m In Love’, you say to yourself. Tom had proposed to you after a few days when the song came out, and somehow on the night of him proposing, this song was played. You labelled it ‘our song’ and he happily obliged. 

“Haz hold the camera correctly for god's sake...” You hear your husband’s voice and move your head towards the screen, smiling brightly.

“Oh I’m obsessed. With the way your head is laying on my chest.” Clinton starts, immediately soothed by the presence of your lover and the melody in your ears.

“I am holding the camera nicely mate bugger off! Nikki taught me well!” Harrison says in the background making everyone giggle.

“She’s coming shut up” 

“What’s this Tom?” You ask him, as he looks at you like a kid in love.

“Y/N”

“Tom” You say in the same manner, feeling anxious by the second.

“So we’ve been dating for 4 years and trust me those have been the most beautiful four years of my life. I know this is so out of the blue, but Y/N Y/L/N, will you do the favour of marrying the person who loves you immensely? A.k.a. Tom?" He says and you laugh. You hold on for a few seconds, looking in his eyes which were filled with desperation.

"Yes" You say and his face lights up like a Christmas tree. He can't stop beaming and searches for the ring in his pocket, only to find out that he didn't have it.

"Oh I'm a mess. When I overthink the little things in my head."

"I have the ring I promise." He says, moving frantically.

"Tom-"

"I swear I kept the ring in my pocket-"

"Tom-"

"How can I be this stupid you probably don't want to marry me anymore-"

"TOM!" He jerks his head towards you as you shout his name.

"It's okay. I just want you right now." You say and he immediately hugs you, the tightest of them all.

The clip ends and you knew the tears were coming very soon, Tom senses the action and rubs your knuckles., giving you a hearty smile.

The second clip rolls in soon, your eyes brightening almost instantly.

"You seem to always help me catch my breath. But then I lose it again, when I look at you, that's the end."

"Why the hell are we on the top of the Eiffel Tower? And why do you want your phone to crash?" You ask him, while he struggles to make a video with his phone while the winds roar at the top of the monument.

"Because I want to remember this moment!" He shouts, making you smile even more.

"My goof"

"Your goof"

"You're lucky I love you"

"I wouldn't have it any other way darling" He says and gives you a quick peck on the lips, this moment too pure to realise.

"Why do I get so nervous when I look into your eyes? And butterflies can't stop me falling for you."

"Now we may invite, a very handsome young lad, who happens to be Spiderman, Mr. Tom Holland!" Harry shouts in the video, while you all pretended to have a grand gala when you couldn't attend Tom's premiere.

He walks in wearing a black tuxedo, his shirt buttons open from the top, looking dashing.

"Thank you for inviting Harold, but please, call the star of today's night." Tom says, making everyone groan about how in love he was with you.

"Patience Thomas. Now may I present, the queen of today's night, Ms. Y/N Y/L/N!" Everyone applauds as you walk down the stairs as you hear your name. You reach the door wearing a red and black dress, the clothing complementing your body more than ever. Everyone seems to keep clapping but your attention is towards that one dummy, who's standing like he's seen a ghost.

"..Oh wow." He's speechless, and everyone knows it. You blush at your boyfriend's gesture and nudge him in the shoulder, as a signal to stop staring.

"I hope you all understand that I scored a jackpot, thank you" He sees and everybody laughs.

You laugh along with the other guests, remembering the faint memory from over two years back. This was one of the most fun nights you've had with Tom. While you laugh at the clip, all Tom can do is stare at you in awe. How did he get so lucky, he thinks. He watches how your face glows when you see someone happy on the screen. He truly was blessed.

"And darling this is more than anything I've felt before. You're everything that I want, but I didn't think I'd find. Someone who was worth the wait of all the years of my heartbreak. But I know now I've found the one I love."

"Please don't go" You sniffle on Tom's shoulder, asking him to stay one last time before his flight leaves for Atlanta.

"If it was in my hands darling I'd never leave your side." He says, trying to hold back tears.

"It's okay, I understand." You say, pulling back and clearing your throat.

"Awh Y/N please don't cry." Tom tries to persuade his emotions by telling you to stop, but a tear falls down his cheeks in an instant.

"I'm sorry." You say, chuckling lightly, making Tom chuckle too.

"I'll be back before you know it."

"I know you will be"

"Please board the flight for Atlanta which leaves at 1330 hours" The flight attendant announces, and you know it's time to let him go.

"Come back home to me soon okay?" You say, wiping your tears.

"As soon as possible"

"I love you" He says.

"I love you more."

"I love you most." You can't argue with that now.

"Bye bubba" You say, giving him one last kiss, a very long one indeed, that left you both searching for oxygen.

"Bye darling" And he leaves to board his flight. You look in the same direction until he disappears and you turn around.

"Harrison, are you crying?"

"No-" He sniffles and you laugh.

You knew you were going to cry as soon as you saw the location. This was one of the hardest moments of your life, letting your lover go away from you for so long, and you weren't ready for that. You wiped your tears while Tom rubbed your hand with one of his, the other cleaning his tear stained face. You look back to see Harrison crying once again, and you laugh a bit at him before giving him your hand for comfort. He really was the best man. You blow a kiss to your family and Tom's, who were currently high on emotions. Even the brothers had tears in their eyes. You really did get the best family.

"And I love the way. You can never find the right things to say. And you can't sit still an hour in the day. I'm so in love, let's run away because us is enough."

The rest of the video were some clips of you and Tom being goofy and so in love, which were a delight to watch. The song played in the background, adding its own special touch, which was necessary to bind this moment together. All these moments which Tom managed to shoot secretly were a lifelong reminder of how much your person loved you. He loved you.

And that is all you need.

The video gets over and Tom looks at you with puppy eyes.

"So, how was it?"

"You're the reason my makeup is ruined and I have mascara stains" You say, laughing while crying.

"That good, huh?"

"That good." You say and he pulls you in for a hug and kisses your forehead.

"I love you bubba"

"I love you more" He says, kissing your cheek.

"I love you most." 

He couldn't argue with that.

"But I know now I've found the one I love."

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

tagging some friends who'd like to read!

@evanssimpybaby @hollandsmushroom @tomsoxytocin @scarletspideyy @leafy-holland @t-lostinworlds

[ssscentral]

Stain Me

Summary: Hooking up with the most popular wizard of your college should be no big deal. Well, unless he summons a demon who is more than eager to join you.

Pairing : Wizard!Namjoon x Witch!Reader x Demon!Jimin

Genre : Smut. Fantasy.

Warnings : Explicit sexual content, Threesome, Demon summoning, Overstimulation, Swearing, Switch!Namjoon, Dom!Jimin, Switch!Reader, Dirty Talking, Oral Sex (f. & m. receiving), Fingering, Handjob, Light choking, Drunk Sex, Unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap your willy), Rough sex, Deepthroating

WC : 5.3k

Member : Rid || @taegularities

A/N : I struggled a little with this - but in the end, it worked out well! This fic is the third part of the group prompt “Hell of a Ride” - stay excited, there’s more to come! Also, some parts are inspired by the show “Supernatural”, the similarities are not coincidental. Thank you very much @biaswreckme for being such a talended beta!

taglist: @lurejoon @mimikookie​ 

—————

This was not meant to happen.

Not that you didn’t enjoy it – but if someone had told you this morning when you’d woken up that you’d find yourself in your current situation in less than twelve hours, you would’ve sarcastically thrown your head back and walked away with a wave of your hand.

Sweaty and out of breath, you looked to the figure in front of you, then to the one over your shoulder, him smirking as he looked at you with dark eyes, licking his full lips delicately. You closed your eyes as memories rushed back to you, pictures of today evening reappearing.

--------

The club was filled to its core, the dim lights tiring you as time went by. You had been here for quite a while now and the initial excitement you had felt at the thought of enjoying yourself tonight, had long vanished into the thin and hot air.

Your best friend had seemingly ditched you and you felt stupid for not noticing earlier. It had only occurred to you as you sipped on your third drink, slowly fading into the dizziness that you had been waiting for the whole week. While your intoxicated state should’ve made you feel lighter, happier, clumsier, you only sat at your stool, heart growing heavy, feeling lonely while everyone else was having their best time on the dancefloor.

And as you were about to stand up, flatten your dress and walk home, you noticed a familiar face sitting down right next to you. You almost choked at your drink, realizing that it wasn’t just anyone who had his eyes glued on you, but the most popular wizard of your magical school – most definitely not looking like a delicious meal, no.

He was a top-notch student, always bringing in the best grades and having everyone fall for him; and then there was you, a lazy girl who would wing assignments shortly before the deadline would end. You couldn’t help but smirk when you noticed that you had captured his attention, as he was now facing you intently, eyes grazing over your face and your body.

“I know you, right?” he asked, his eyes squinting as he brought his lips up to a beautiful smile. You knew he didn’t have to ask. He was one grade above you, but the school was small, and everyone knew each other’s names.

“I assume so. I’m certain that I know you,” you answered, cupping your chin in your hand, “you’re Kim Namjoon. The teachers’ sweetheart.”

He laughed before he waved at the bartender, ordering another drink for you and himself that you weren’t sure you needed. You let him do his thing anyway.

And as you sat there, talking about life and magic, you found yourself becoming consumed in his way of telling a story, no longer caring for your friend who had never shown up, would probably not show up anymore. He spoke with elan, throwing in side-facts now and then that you were eager to hear, because – what was it?

Not just his ability to have you hung on his lips and every word he uttered. It was his glasses, too. And his turtleneck sweater. Definitely the deep dimples. The way his full lips looked pillowy soft. His hair that hung in his eyes – you not wanting anything more than to stretch out your arm and run your fingers through it. And then his hands: the long and beautiful fingers that held his glass while you imagined how they would feel insi-

“Do you dance?” he suddenly wanted to know, snapping you out of your fantasies.

Fantasies. Yeah. What could you say? Namjoon was gorgeous. Every girl dreamed of him, of the smart, powerful, and mysterious wizard; every girl wanted to touch him, tempt him into her bed – and as weak as it sounded, you were no exception. The last few years at the magical college had made your crush on him solidify with each passing semester and you would’ve lied to yourself if you hadn’t admitted that you were someone who wanted him, too, that he was the absolute hottest guy of the entire school.

“Sometimes. Depends on who’s asking.” You grinned at him, your red-painted mouth reaching your eyes.

“What if I say it’s me who’s asking?”

“In that case,” you said, gulping down the last sip of the alcohol, “I might remember how to dance.”

You stood and took his hand, guiding him to the already crowded dancefloor.

It started harmlessly first, your arms on his shoulders and his on your waist. You were looking at each other, the loud music not allowing you to talk, but you felt like you didn’t need to. His hands were doing that for you.

First, his fingers dug into your skin lightly, leaving goosebumps on your arms. Then, he started caressing your almost naked back, pulling you closer when he noticed that you didn’t protest. The light brush of his fingertips had you shivering, and when your torso finally touched his, you could even feel his warm breath against your face.

For a while, you danced like this, contemplating if you should kiss him; something told you that he wouldn’t say no, that he would give in to your request easily. And as you played with the thought so much that you started leaning in, he grabbed your waist again, suddenly turning you around, so your back was now pressed against his chest.

So that’s what it was. He wanted to grind, too. He could have that.

You stretched your ass, testing the waters as you grazed it against his stomach and dick, knowing that it would affect him if you did it just right. Your movements were smooth, elegant, planned, and he knew you were well aware of what you were doing.

And despite the noise, you could clearly hear him moan lightly each time your bottom rubbed against his sensitive zone. Soon he was pressing soft kisses behind your ear, slowly wandering down, settling on your temple, on your cheeks, then on your neck, on your shoulder, and ultimately on your cheeks again.

Then, finally, a question left his mouth, his lustful voice causing your heart to jump.

“What do you think about getting out of here?”

--------

The first thing you did in your dorm was to shout for your roommate. You were absolutely delighted when you didn’t get a response, your whole place dead silent. You smirked and turned around to look at your guest, him closing the door behind you both before he rushed forwards to basically attack your mouth.

You reacted fast, grabbing his shoulders to maintain balance, tilting your head and closing your eyes as Namjoon’s hand sank in your hair. He was impatient, panting, eager to swallow you whole as he guided you backward towards your bed. The dorm room was small and your walls thin, but being here with him, in a situation as steamy as this, the tiny space provided a weird intimacy that you couldn’t quite describe.

You brought your whole body down onto the mattress before he hovered over you, looking at you with an intensity that had your stomach churn. Slowly, softly, you brought your hand up to his face, taking off his glasses to place them on the nightstand beside your bed.

Namjoon grinned at you, opening your legs with his thighs, so he could settle between yours. Something about it was frustrating, you not being able to press them together anymore for extra friction – but you soon learned that this wasn’t necessary.

He leaned down to kiss you again, his lips only allowing to press against yours for a mere second before they trailed down your jaw and to your neck. They were only ghosting over your skin, giving you a tingly sensation that left you wanting more. And suddenly, he started moving his hips, his already hardened dick teasing your clothed core, and you moaned at the unexpected pleasure.

He liked what he heard, oh, he liked it a lot. Doing all of that would lead exactly to where he wanted you, exactly to what he was desiring to achieve. That you were so content with everything just made the whole affair easier for him. Besides, you were absolutely delightful to look at.

Your fingers traced the edge of his shirt, until they found the button of his jeans, carefully opening and unzipping them. He stilled for a second, only for a moment before you felt his lips curl up into a smile against yours, his tongue coming out to ask for permission to enter your mouth that you granted him gladly.

He helped you toss his pants off, his shirt following before he fumbled at the hem of your own. You nodded, knowing he was silently waiting for you to allow him to see you naked. No matter how much your skin was burning for him, you felt like this was the right moment to drunkenly confess something to him.

“Namjoon, I-“

He looked up at you immediately, patiently awaiting what you had to say before bringing his face to yours. “I’m… It’s been a while, so I’ll probably be… very sensitive.”

“You’re saying that as if it’s a bad thing,” he stated in between kisses on your cheek, not seeming to mind your confession at all. “It’s okay, baby. Let me take care of you.”

“Okay,” you simply said, closing your eyes and lifting your arms, so he could take off your shirt. His skilled hands didn’t hesitate to wrap around your torso, swiftly unclipping your baby pink bra to reveal your breasts.

All of a sudden, he froze, looking at you as if he remembered something. “I don’t have a condom.”

You smiled. “It’s okay. I take the pill. Hormonal issues.”

He nodded, exhaling relieved.

Closing his eyes, he put his attention to your neck again, not settling for long, but moving on to caress your nipples, licking and softly biting them. He was floating on clouds as you let out delicious moans, whimpering and shaking under him.

Namjoon gripped your waist as his lips wandered down your body, until he reached your pants, taking them off just like his before, but this time pulling down your panties along with them. He was so impatient, and this made your arousal grow even stronger, thinking about how he wanted you so much that he wasn’t ready to wait even one second longer.

He pulled down his boxers, too, his hard, thick, red-headed cock springing against his stomach, and you grabbed it immediately to stroke it. Your slow movements made him growl and grab the sheet next to your head as he gritted his teeth, looking down on you with heavy lust and longing.

It just got better when he decided to tease you back, his long fingers finding their way to your clit, slowly grazing and rubbing it before he suddenly slid a finger into your hole gently. For a second, he stayed like this, not moving his digit as he saw you unwind under him, out of breath and trying to focus on his dick that was twitching in your right hand.

“What’s wrong?” he asked teasingly, biting his lower lip, driving you even crazier.

“Nothing’s wrong, I just – I like what you’re doing,” you whispered back, your back slightly arching, nipples grazing against his chest.

He started moving his finger, slowly first before picking up the pace, not waiting long and then adding a second one which drew a long and intense whine out of your mouth – scrumptious, beautiful, sexy as hell.

And then it was a little too much; not the pleasure but the waiting, letting the time tick without having his cock inside you. You wanted to make him feel good, make him make you feel good, so you pushed his hands away in a sudden motion.

Namjoon looked at you surprised – but he didn’t have much time to wonder as you got up and pushed him down the mattress, back facing him now and straddling his chest. You leaned forwards, grabbing his cock again as you eyed it hungrily, taking in its beauty for a moment before you pressed yourself flush against his body.

You started by licking the tip of his head with your tongue, continuing with his length and ultimately taking him all in. At first, you only managed half of it, trying to adjust to his thickness and ignoring the gag reflex. You’d just started moving up and down when you felt him grab your waist to bring your core to his mouth. He eagerly licked a hot stripe against your fold before he brought you even closer, sucking at your clit and inserting his tongue as he moaned, sending vibrations through you that had you on edge.

For a few minutes, you continued like this, your sounds music to his ears and lips wrapped around his cock leaving him blissful. He tilted his head, looking at your head bop up and down as he said, “you’re ridiculously good at this, Y/N.”

You smirked, looking over your shoulder. “It’s been some time. That doesn’t mean I forgot how to do it.”

And instead of continuing to suck, you sat up straight, moving to face him again. He released his grip on you as you shifted, bringing your pussy close to his cock. You took him in your hand, guiding him slowly as you saw Namjoon’s lips parting, darkness completely taking over his eyes.

You rubbed him against your folds, almost feeling like you were just torturing yourself; then, finally, you sunk onto him, gasping as you took him in inch by inch. He was stretching you immediately and it felt so familiar, yet so new.

You gave yourself a few seconds to adjust, locking your hands with his as you leaned down to kiss him. And then you started to move, whimpering, throwing your head back. Riding him felt indescribably perfect. His hips started to move too, both of you chasing your highs as you leaned down yet again to kiss him.

He wrapped his arms around you, now fully taking control and starting to thrust into your tight pussy relentlessly, making you moan so loud that your neighboring students must have heard you.

Despite the pace, he was being soft, panting against your ear and holding you tightly, careful not to hurt you too much, but still thrusting with enough force to have you melt into him. “How does it feel?” he asked. “You like the way my cock is filling you up like that?” And these filthy words, along with his actions, were the hottest thing you’d ever experienced, your orgasm approaching fast as he fucked into you, muttering unholy questions and statements into your ear.

And just like that, you snapped, your legs starting to shake, goosebumps forming on your whole skin as you went lump in his grip, him still going on. But suddenly, the atmosphere shifted, the mood becoming weird as you noticed him mumble something you couldn’t decipher.

At first, you thought you were crazy, but as you heard him say a few words, including ligandum or coram, you lifted your body, looking at him in surprise to figure out what the hell he was saying.

And then, the room, no, the whole world seemed to go dark, clouds forming in the sky and everything becoming so cold that you shivered, physically shaking at the sudden change.

Namjoon seemed unaware, still thrusting into you, but you were too distracted, too taken aback to enjoy it anymore. And when you snapped your head to your desk to suddenly find a figure sitting on your chair, you shrieked, your magical impulse shattering the glass of water on your nightstand as you lifted yourself up, falling onto the bed behind Namjoon.

You expected him to at least flinch at the sight of the silhouette, but instead, he smiled, whispering “It worked” as he stood to bow, politely, but… well, naked.

The creature stood, nearing you slowly as the light from outside hit his face, dark black eyes staring back at you. And black eyes meant that the whole of his eyeball was stained in dark ink, making you whimper at the sight of him.

A demon. Namjoon had summoned a damn demon. You didn’t know much about this type of magic, but you hadn’t expected that it only took muttering a few words to make them appear in front of you. What about the salt? Or the paintings on the floor? What about everything that TV shows had shown you?

“I’ve heard you can help me. I need you, so I can become the most powerful wizard of the school and I am ready to sacrifice my soul for it… Sir,” Namjoon started in a stern tone, looking at the demon carefully whose eyes had become normal all of a sudden, his mouth twitching.

You stared back and forth in disbelief, contemplating to run away, but fearing that you wouldn’t come very far.

“You do realize you won’t get it back, right?” spoke the guy – monster? –, just for a second glancing at you, before shifting his focus to Namjoon again. His voice was… soft; way too pleasant to fit his profession.

He looked past your hookup again, his expression dangerous and intense. He was wearing this neat suit and his silver hair was parted on the left side. He ran a hand through it, before he took his coat off, licking his lower lip as he came closer to you.

“I- I just heard demons like you can be summoned during sex as you’re someone who feasts from desire. Other than that, she has nothing to do with this!” stuttered Namjoon and you glared at him wide eyed, not believing what you were hearing as hot anger boiled in you.

“What the fu-“ you started, but you were cut off by the stranger who’d leaned in close, inhaling deeply as he took in your scent.

“Proposition,” he said, presumably to Namjoon, but without turning around, “I take her instead of your soul.”

You shifted in your bed, moving into the corner and curling up in yourself.

“Take her where?” Namjoon asked, now visibly nervous. “She doesn’t-“

“I meant, take her like this. Right now.”

Your stomach turned. All of this was insane. The fact that he suggested that, the fact that a demon had suggested that, and most importantly that your fear had somehow settled enough to make you kind of… want it?

He was a sex demon after all. You knew that. And still, you felt drawn to him when he touched you, his soft finger now tracing the skin of your arms, leaving goosebumps as he went.

Namjoon was biting his lip, standing behind this guy who was teasing you shamelessly, and you saw your date shiver. “What do you say?”

God, what an asshole. He didn’t feel bad about anything of this at all. But somehow, you didn’t care. You hadn’t cum and you were on the edge, his touches not helping in the slightest.

“… Okay,” you answered.

“Okay?” Namjoon questioned, astonished at your willingness.

“I want to try that. As long as you don’t hurt me.”

The demon smirked, cupping your cheek affectionately, not exactly suiting his whole existence. “I wouldn’t hurt you. I feed on desire – I don’t do more or less than that unless you want me to. Like, fulfill wishes to make someone a powerful wizard, in exchange for souls and other stuff.” He winked before he continued, “My name is Jimin, by the way.”

His hands suddenly left you to pull down his black slacks and taking off the rest of his suit, leaving the demon you had just gotten to know a few minutes ago bare in front of your very eyes.

But he didn’t come close again. Instead, he sat down at the edge of the bed, gesturing Namjoon to come back. “Finish it. As I can see, you’re not done.”

“And you?” you asked. Your eyes wandered from his smooth hair over his pretty nose to his full lips. He didn’t seem as dangerous as you’d initially thought, and something in you told you he was able to give you exactly what you wanted.

He nodded in Namjoon’s direction as he answered. “I’ll join when he’s done… or still at it.”

You inhaled and exhaled deeply, nodding before glancing at Namjoon, too. “Finish it, then.”

All restraints gone, you came to the middle of the bed again, one hand grazing Jimin’s underpants as you opened your legs, patting the bed for Namjoon to lay down. You noticed that you were still wet, despite the fear you had felt not long ago. And Namjoon, looking sort of confused, still hard as he walked to you.

And you didn’t waste any time.

As soon as his back hit the mattress, you straddled him again, repeating the actions from before by bringing his cock to your entrance, rubbing against it before you slid down onto it.

He moaned, grabbing your waist tightly, for sure leaving bruises on your soft skin. You’d wanted to wipe off the arrogance of his face since Jimin had entered and now that he was under you, sounds escaping his throat that almost sounded like pleading, you relished in the feeling. Your hips were moving up and down persistently and you knew you would be sore the next day; but frankly, you didn’t give a single fuck about that right now.

You were quite proud of yourself, always having thought you were a sub – it didn’t occur to you that you had a dominant side on you that could actually do this well. Not that you minded being manhandled, though.

And you were reminded of that again when you felt Jimin stand up and come closer. He put two fingers under your chin as he moved your head to look at him. You gasped at the sight of him: he had one hand on his hardened length, precum already clearly visible, looking so mouthwatering good.

You knew what he wanted you to do and you were more than ready to give it to him. Looking him in the eyes that flashed black for a single moment, you opened your mouth, leaning forward as you sucked on only the tip for a small moment. He shuddered, tightening his grip on your face before he said, “What a good girl. Already so willing to suck my cock?”

Instead of answering, you lifted one hand to grab his throbbing sex, your pace above Namjoon faltering as your focus shifted to Jimin. The former helped you out, though, taking over control as he started thrusting up into you, too impatient to wait for your ministrations. Your left hand secured the balance of your body by holding onto Namjoon’s chest, while the other stroke parts of Jimin’s cock that you couldn’t reach.

Not that you could decide on the pace much. Jimin wasn’t as submissive as Namjoon was being right now – his hips were moving on their own, fucking your mouth as you tried not to gag. His hand had made its home in your hair, messing it up completely as tears formed in your eyes.

At some point, you heard Namjoon’s whimpers get louder and when you side-eyed him, you noticed how he was struggling underneath you, his movements becoming sloppy, his face contorting weirdly, yet sexily.

He brought his finger to your clit as he started rubbing it and you let out a loud moan, your mouth clenching around Jimin’s dick that made him gasp sharply, too. It took only three thrusts more until you came, your vision turning black before you felt Namjoon empty himself inside you, your juices mixing, while Jimin continued ramming his cock into your throat.

“Enough,” he eventually said, pulling out as he walked to stand behind you, pushing you down, so your torso and your face were just inches away from Namjoon’s. “On your knees.”

You followed the order, slowly and silently lifting yourself from Namjoon’s softened cock, still having trouble breathing and shifting your weight on your hands as you stretched your ass towards Jimin.

He reacted fast, not wasting a single second in which he enjoyed the sight of you in front of him. Pushing Namjoon’s cum inside of you again, he started fingering you, your sensitive pussy already aching, but giving in to his touches anyway.

His other hand came down on your ass hard and you gasped. He didn’t move it away, though – he left it there, squeezing your cheeks as his finger moved in and out of you at a merciless speed, his smirk clearly indicating that he was determined to draw these beautiful sounds out of you. Not that you could see that anyway. “So wet. So fucking wet. You seem to like the idea of a demon fucking you open, huh?”

You were almost whining, dying for him to finally sink his cock into you to give you what you wanted. “I do! I do, just- please, fuck me…”

“You just got drilled so well. And you’re that impatient? Aren’t you a bad girl, hm?” He chuckled behind you, removing his finger before he suddenly, and without a single warning, inserted himself into you. His cock was rock hard, filling you up so nicely.

You cried out loud, going crazy over the painful fact that he didn’t ease you into the whole process, that he didn’t let you adjust, but instead chose a mind-wrecking pace right from the beginning. You could hear Namjoon moan under you and you noticed that he was stroking his length, apparently hard again as he saw your reactions while being fucked into oblivion.

You leaned down to kiss him, tongues crashing against each other desperately. His hand curled one of your breasts, massaging your hardened nipple while Jimin didn’t slow down in the slightest, your body lighting up, begging for more, more, more.

At some point, you felt Jimin lean down to you, his sweaty torso against your back as his hand reached your neck. He pressed his fingers into it slightly; while Namjoon had somewhat let you have control of him, and had been soft to some extent, Jimin was pitiless, eager to wreck you entirely.

Hand still on your neck, he pulled you up and you were forced to break the kiss with Namjoon. You were on your knees, back against Jimin as Namjoon got up, too, continuing kissing you while his erection pressed against your stomach. You intuitively grabbed his cock, moving your hands as fast as you could while simultaneously concentrating on everything Jimin was doing to you.

You were literally sandwiched between the two, so pressed against them that you felt your release near. This type of worshipping of your body always made you tingly, and while this wasn’t your first threesome, you had surely never felt the urge to be this close to your intercourse partners as you did now.

Panting, moaning loudly, you brought Namjoon’s leaking tip to your bundle of nerves, rubbing it against your clit to welcome your second orgasm that would soon take over you. Despite the cramp that was building in your arm, you continued stroking his cock while enjoying the way Jimin was breathing into your ear hard, nibbling against the shell of it and smiling when he noticed what that did to you.

“Do you like that? Two guys pleasuring you? Do you like the way my cock is destroying you?” he growled, making you feel things you had never felt, things you didn’t want to stop feeling at all.

“Yes, yes, yes, please!” you screamed, hundred percent sure that your neighbors could hear you clearly by now if they hadn’t already.

“Please what, huh?”

“Let me cum, please,” you whimpered, eyes stinging, whether from oversensitivity or pleasure, or both, you didn’t know.

He laughed softly, his velvety voice not suiting his actions at all. “I’m not stopping you, baby, am I?”

And you came, everything in front of you blurring as you rode out your high, not noticing that your hand movements had caused Namjoon to milk all over your stomach and bedsheets.

Jimin kept fucking into you harshly before he came, too, biting into your shoulder hard and causing you to whine as a result. He let go of you, pulling out as you collapsed on your bed next to the sitting Namjoon who was panting almost as hard as you.

Both their fluids were running out of your pussy, messing up your sheets entirely. It was a wonder that your roommate had still not returned, but you were immensely grateful for that at the moment.

You could hear the demon and your hook-up speak softly – probably discussing their whole unholy demon-wizard deal or whatever. You didn’t care. You had gotten something for free and you were content with that fact.

The mix of your exhaustion and your still drunken state caused you to almost doze away before you heard Namjoon call your name. You opened your eyes, looking at the now fully clothed and concerned guy you had been dancing against only a few hours ago.

“Are you alright?” he asked, clearly testing whether you were still conscious or not.

“Yeah, I am,” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes as you wrapped yourself in your blanket and stood up.

He smiled at you softly, speaking so crystal clear that you wondered whether the alcohol was still affecting him at all. “That was… quite something. If you ever want to do it again, you know where to find me.”

You started grinning, almost laughing out loud at his words as you tried to somewhat smoothen your hair. Jimin was still standing in the room, leaning against your dresser as he waited. What was he even waiting for exactly?

With a look to Namjoon, you put a hand on his arm to guide him to the door. He looked down at you confused. “What are you doing?”

“Throwing you out. You’re welcome to leave now.”

“Wha-“ he started, but you were quick to interrupt him.

“Listen, that was hot and all, but you practically used me for your deal to become powerful for the greater good or whatever you snobby wizards always want. That’s very asshole-y to me, so there’s no fucking way I’ll want to do anything with you ever again. With that in mind, take care and goodbye.”

You shoved him out the door and closed it in front of his nose before he could say anything else. You smirked, satisfied with yourself as you turned to Jimin – not as intimidated before, but still somehow scared. Especially when he did this weird trick with his eyes, flashing black here and now.

“Yeah?” you asked, demanding an explanation as to why he was still lingering around when his purpose here was obviously done. “You can go now. The deal’s sealed.”

He chuckled, his silver hair still a little damp on his forehead, but flawless nevertheless. “You could say that. I just wanted to look at you a little longer.”

“Uh, you wanted to loo-“

“For a little human girl, you can take fairly much. None of the others take me so well – especially when they know what my meal consists of,” he whispered, leaning in closer to press a soft kiss on your earlobe, “and the desire that I take in from you is intense.”

You shivered and he noticed. He placed his hands on your arms, moving up and down as if to warm you. Which didn’t help. At all. “You keep faltering under my touches. I love that.”

He knew the effect he had on you; he knew he intimidated you while simultaneously putting your hormones on edge.

You sighed as he removed his hands, only to bring his lips to your knuckles, kissing them softly, before he said, “Summon me anytime, sweetheart.”

It took only one blink of an eye and he was gone, along with his gentle touches that you had felt just a second ago.

You were alone again.

[goodlucktai]

out past the shallow breakers

the untamed pairing: jiang cheng & wei ying, jiang cheng & lan sizhui word count: 3148 read on ao3

x

“He died!”

The words ring loud, sharp—in the pavilion where they’re taking their evening meal, surrounded on all sides by untroubled water, the words seem to carry for miles.

It’s unlike Lan Sizhui to raise his voice at all, much less to raise it toward a senior. His hands, resting politely on his knees under the table, have curled into fists.

“Everyone goes on and on as though baba has so much to atone for,” Lan Sizhui says, each word lurching from his throat like a line of fierce corpses shambling through brush. “What more is there for him to give? What more do you want? He died.”

Jin Ling is staring at his friend as though he’s never seen him fully before. On Lan Sizhui’s other side, Wei Wuxian’s expression is shifting rapidly from alarm to comprehension. His gray eyes are full of a painful understanding.

“Sizhui ah,” Wei Wuxian says, touching the boy’s shoulder. “Come take a walk with me.”

Jerking his head in a nod, Lan Sizhui pushes to his feet and then pauses there. His Gusu Lan whites, those extra lines and layers that denote him a member of the main family, ghost elegantly around him when he lowers himself in a bow that is every inch deep that it needs to be and not one inch deeper.

“Sect Leader Jiang, this disciple apologizes,” he says. The cheerful ‘shushu’ of earlier that morning might as well be a memory of another life. “My behavior was unworthy.”

He doesn’t grit it out, the way Jin Ling would probably have had to. It doesn’t even seem to cost him any pride.

For one, single, impossible moment, it’s as though Jiang Yanli is standing there, making her apologies to their mother for her brothers’ sake, to spare them any pain she could. It didn’t matter that the blame wasn’t hers. It didn’t cost her any pride, either.

But Jiang Yanli didn’t have a chance to be a part of her nephew’s life, as much as she would have wanted to be. This likeness isn’t hers, not truly. Wei Wuxian was always more like his sister than he or Jiang Cheng were ready to admit.

“Forget it,” Jiang Cheng says. His voice is hoarse, but in the stillness of the water and the silence of the pavilion, it carries, too. “Go on.”

Wei Wuxian shepherds his son from the table. He glances back at Jiang Cheng once, a grimace of apology on his face, but then Lan Sizhui’s hand finds the trailing black hem of Wei Wuxian’s sleeve and clutches to it, and that steals all of Wei Wuxian’s attention as easily as a slap or a shout might have.

The moment they’re gone, Jin Ling lets out a breath he must have been holding, and rounds on his other uncle with wide eyes.

“What did you say?” Jin Ling blurts. “I wasn’t really paying attention, but it didn’t sound like—I mean, it sounded normal.”

Jiang Cheng is still staring at the place Lan Sizhui had stood.

The last living remnant of a persecuted clan, so much an amalgamation of his two fathers that it didn’t make sense that one of them had been dead for most of his young life—holding a grudge and bowing his head at the same time. Lan Wangji, in Jiang Cheng’s experience, has never once let something go that he could nurse icy resentment for instead. Wei Wuxian has always choked down hurt like it was second nature, no matter that it must feel like swallowing nails every time.

It was a normal conversation, but perhaps that’s exactly why Lan Sizhui couldn’t bear another second of it.

“He died,” Lan Sizhui had said, as raw as a fresh wound, or one that kept getting torn open again before it could heal. “What more do you want?”  

#

“Ah, Jiang Cheng,” Wei Wuxian says the next morning, meeting him in the courtyard. “Did you sleep well?”

He’s smiling with a certain nervous energy that Jiang Cheng can only pick out because he spent the formative years of his life raising and being raised by his siblings. To an outsider, there probably wouldn’t be a single visible chink in that cheerful armor.

Jiang Cheng, for all his failings, isn’t an outsider. Not quite. The door between them is closed—has been closed for years, almost decades—but Wei Wuxian isn’t the one who closed it. There almost certainly isn’t a lock or talisman keeping Jiang Cheng from forcing it open again.

It won’t come open again easily. There is so much stacked in the way. Hurt and betrayal and grief throw their weight into keeping it shut, weighing it down on either side.

But—

“What more do you want?” Lan Sizhui had asked.

“Fine,” Jiang Cheng forces out. Wei Wuxian blinks, as if he didn’t expect a forthright answer, or any answer at all. Something about his open surprise at the barest scrap of civility makes Jiang Cheng add, “If you’re awake this early, you didn’t sleep at all.”

His brother takes the opening for what it is, and bends into character. “Oh! You know me so well!”

Mo Xuanyu’s body is smaller, slighter, than the body that Wei Wuxian was born into, and his face is not quite the same, but Wei Wuxian’s mannerisms shine through so clearly that it’s easy to look past everything else. Even the way he stands still is entirely his own, his whole body vibrating with the necessary focus it takes to keep from bursting into movement again.

He is so familiar. The most familiar thing in Jiang Cheng’s entire, almost-empty life.

“I’m sorry about last night,” Wei Wuxian says. The words spill from his mouth like river pebbles, scattering around their feet. There’s that echo of their jiejie again, smiling around I’m sorry. “Don’t hold it against him, please. He’s so young, and he’s struggling to make sense of some things. He was happy that you invited him to Lotus Pier.”

The past-tense makes Jiang Cheng want to flinch, but he doesn’t. He just stands there in the peach pink morning and absorbs the beginning of a goodbye.

“So you’re leaving, then?” he mutters.

“I think we’ve definitely worn out our welcome this time,” Wei Wuxian says, easily shouldering the blame for everyone else’s bad behavior. They might as well be twelve years old again, kneeling here in the courtyard under Madam Yu’s furious eyes. “But it’s alright! Wen Ning sent word that he’s waiting for us outside of Yunmeng and Sizhui is eager to see him. We’ll go find some trouble to get into before we head back home.”

He won’t say a word about this change of plans to his husband, but Lan Wangji will still find out—whether Lan Sizhui tells him, or Wen Ning, or he just picks up something from Wei Wuxian through osmosis—and the next cultivator conference will be excruciating. And if the Jiang clan gets anything out of it, it won’t be anything good. And Jiang Cheng will feel slighted and angry for months, until the next time Wei Wuxian swings by for a visit. And having his brother nearby will soothe an ache in the pit of Jiang Cheng’s chest that he’s able to ignore all the rest of the time. And then, inevitably, Wei Wuxian will look wistfully at the water, or linger for too long by the flowers their sister liked best, or bring some other manner of ghost to the dinner table, and Jiang Cheng will lash out because it’s the only way he knows how to handle hurt. And then Wei Wuxian will extract himself and go home to Cloud Recesses early, and Lan Wangji will rightly guess why. And it just never fucking ends, does it?

The grief he carries around with him—he’s not wrong to carry it. It’s his. He was hurt, time and again, by a person he used to count on not to hurt him. He’s two times an orphan; once when his parents died, and again when his siblings did. He had to rebuild his home from the ground up, by himself, with his own two hands. Everything he has is what he was able to dig out of the dirt and ashes.

It isn’t Wei Wuxian’s fault that Lotus Pier fell. It isn’t his fault that the Wens were persecuted, that they had nowhere else to turn for protection. And it isn’t—

This one hurts; this one comes away bleeding. Jiang Cheng forces himself through it anyway.

It isn’t Wei Wuxian’s fault that Yanli died.

She died for him, but he didn’t ask her to.

Jiang Cheng feels his brother’s golden core thrumming inside his chest, hyper-aware of it now in a way he rarely was before—how it feels the way the sun looks in the morning, warm and brilliant and spilling color across the dull gray of dawn.

He didn’t ask Wei Wuxian to cut himself open for Jiang Cheng’s sake. He can’t be blamed for his brother’s choices. And if that’s true (and it has to be true or Jiang Cheng will go insane) then Wei Wuxian can’t be blamed for their sister’s choice, either. Yanli died for Wei Wuxian because she loved him, and Wei Wuxian gave Jiang Cheng his golden core because he loved him, and Jiang Cheng never moved on and never let go because he loved them, too.

They weren’t raised to love softly or quietly. Love between the three of them was always fierce, like a wild animal baring its teeth. Clinging to each other in a world that wanted to rip them apart. Even Yanli, who smiled and spoke with such sweetness, went to war because her brothers were there.

“What more do you want?” Lan Sizhui had asked.

Jiang Cheng lifts his head. Wei Wuxian is already looking at him, poised, as ever, to leave the moment Jiang Cheng gives him any indication that he should, like a bird ready to fling itself into flight. His brother, dead for thirteen years and back again, and only sometimes-welcome in the place he used to call home. Only sometimes-wanted by the person who used to be his family.

In a world full of people missing people they’ll never see again, Wei Wuxian is a miracle that Jiang Cheng is entirely unworthy of.

He’s right to carry his grief, because it’s his. But he wouldn’t be wrong—it wouldn’t be a betrayal—if he chose to set it down.

“You find trouble as easy as breathing,” he says, speaking through his heart, where it’s lodged in his throat, “so that shouldn’t be too hard.”

“Maligned!” Wei Wuxian cries with an air of great sorrow. “Blatantly maligned, by my own flesh and blood!”

Jiang Cheng can’t say what he wants to say. He can’t find the words. There’s only so much of himself he can dig up and expose like raw nerves before the pain of it becomes overwhelming, and he reacts to the hurt the way he always does, and shoves Wei Wuxian away.

“Don’t forget to say goodbye to Jin Ling, or he’ll never forgive you,” Jiang Cheng settles for. “And I’ll be the one stuck hearing about it.”

“I would never forget my favorite nephew,” Wei Wuxian says easily.

“And if you fuck up, and get yourself into a stupid mess,” Jiang Cheng adds, before he loses his nerve, “don’t let me hear about it from someone else.”

For a moment, Wei Wuxian doesn’t seem to know what to say.

“What if it’s very stupid?” he finally asks, his voice at once both faint and painfully fond.

“What else is new?” Jiang Cheng snaps. “Just send for me, and I’ll come.”

Above them, the pink and orange of fresh dawn make way for vivid blue. As Jiang Cheng stands in his childhood home with his only brother, while the market comes to life outside the walls and the breeze sweeps the smell of lotus flowers and scallion pancakes through the courtyard, the years seem to fall away. For a brief, uninterrupted moment, they’re both back where they belong.

“Aiyah, shidi,” Wei Wuxian says. “Of course you will.”

#

The next time Jiang Cheng sees Lan Sizhui is at the cultivation conference in Gusu, two months later.

The boy smiles politely but greets him as ‘Sect Leader Jiang’ again, and next to him, Jiang Cheng can feel Jin Ling wince. Lan Sizhui’s counterpart, the wildly opinionated and deeply un-Lan-like Lan Jingyi is giving him a frank, up-and-down appraisal.

“I mean, I’ll give it to you,” he says baldly. “You’re brave. Like, if Hanguang-jun hated me as much as he hated you, I just wouldn’t show up. You couldn’t pay me to show up.”

“Jingyi,” Lan Sizhui says at length.

“No, I know. I’m just saying. Young Mistress,” he adds, sweeping into a deep, performative bow in front of Jin Ling, “if you’ll come with me, your presence is earnestly awaited by Young Master Ouyang in the library pavilion.”

“Shut up, Jingyi, I swear,” Jin Ling snaps, but he lets himself be herded away with only a single worried glance back at his uncle.

Lan Sizhui is gazing up at Jiang Cheng with a complicated expression. Even though the explosive anger of that disastrous dinner doesn’t seem likely to make a reappearance, there is still something troubled in his eyes.

“I wanted to apologize, shushu,” the boy says slowly. “Properly, that is. For the way I spoke to you last time.”

Ah. So the stiffness isn’t born of lingering irritation, but worry. These Lans, Jiang Cheng thinks, with significantly less venom than he’s used to thinking of the Lan sect with.

He has a well of patience for his nephews that has never run dry. Jin Ling has stretched it nearly to the limit, more than once, but it will take Lan Sizhui more than one emotional outburst to come even close. Given that they’ve only been family (for given value of the word) for a short while, it makes sense that Lan Sizhui wouldn’t know that.

“It wasn’t you that I was angry with, not really,” Lan Sizhui says, explaining when Jiang Cheng has already largely guessed. “I know that you care about baba in your own way, even if a-die doesn’t think so. But—there are—”

His young face folds in frustration, less remarkably than Jin Ling’s does when he’s having a snit, but just a creased forehead speaks volumes in this repressed sect.

“There are other people. Who say similar things. And they don’t mean it the way you mean it.”

Jiang Cheng knows that. He attended those meetings, too.

“And let me guess,” he says, “my idiot brother doesn’t want you speaking up for him.”

Lan Sizhui’s mouth twists. “He says that he did horrible things, and those people are well within their rights to feel about him however they want to feel about him. But—he did good, too. He protected my clan, even though he had to do it alone. I don’t remember very much,” he goes on, slightly quieter, “but I know that he made the Burial Mounds a warm and safe place for me. I know that I never felt scared or cold or hungry when I was there with him. And I don’t think most people could have done that.”

Jiang Cheng boxes up the involuntary pain that swells into place at the poking of this half-healed wound, and gives himself a moment to organize a reply. Talking to the mind-healer his chief physician recommended to him has helped a lot, not that he’ll give that smug witch the satisfaction of admitting it.

“Wei Wuxian hurt a lot of people, but so did everyone else,” he says when he’s certain he can say it without losing his composure. “We were at war. None of us are blameless. He was just the most convenient scapegoat. He still is.”

Lan Sizhui’s eyes are bright with vindication. He was born a Wen and raised a Lan, but there’s a streak of Jiang in there, too, Jiang Cheng thinks with pride. It’s that love that Jiang Cheng recognizes, the same kind of love that he and jiejie and Wei Wuxian had cultivated between them since they were children—the vicious, untamed kind of love that marches to war and claws its way up from hell and clings too hard to things it rightly should let go of.

“It isn’t fair,” Lan Sizhui says.

“No,” Jiang Cheng allows. “It isn’t.”

#

Wei Wuxian waves animatedly at Jiang Cheng from across the room, even though it makes Lan Qiren scowl at him. It’s reminiscent of every single stuffy banquet they had to sit through as kids, making faces at one another when Madam Yu’s eyes were turned away.

Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes in return, and Wei Wuxian lights up like he’s been handed a pile of gold. Lan Wangji gazes at him with a tenderness that would be absolutely absurd if Wei Wuxian didn’t actually deserve every scant inch of it that got sent his way, and even though the entire cultivation world is waiting, he spares a moment to tuck a stray piece of hair behind Wei Wuxian’s ear.

Sect Leader Yao scoffs, a bit too loudly. “Shameless upstart.”

Lan Wangji’s eyes turn so sharp so fast that it promises violence.

Before he can say anything that starts another war, Jiang Cheng turns fully around in his seat.

“Problem?” he asks shortly.

Baffled, Sect Leader Yao’s gaze skates around the room for a moment before landing back on Jiang Cheng.

“If you have something to say about my brother,” Jiang Cheng says, his voice a snarl, zidian sparking on his arm, “say it so that I can hear you.”

“Ah, this meeting is off to such a lively start,” Wei Wuxian says into the ominous stillness of the room. “Shidi, you’re so energetic, why don’t you kick things off?”

It would be the first time in his career that he’s the first to speak at a conference. Openly disbelieving, Jiang Cheng looks from his brother to Lan Wangji. Lan Wangji’s eyes are narrowed, but not as though he’s sizing Jiang Cheng up for a coffin, which is how he usually sizes him up. All he does is tip his head incrementally, conceding the floor to him.

Gods. It’s that simple.

“You are really not a difficult person, are you?” Jiang Cheng says aloud.

“No,” Lan Wangji agrees, this force of nature who turned the world upside down and challenged every single person in it, who would do so again and again and again, just to be able to sit there and hold Wei Wuxian’s hand.

And then, in the closest the two of them have ever come to an understanding, Lan Wangji adds, “Neither are you.”

[paterson-blue]

Shadow of the Sea: Chapter 1

Summary: Kylo is used to being alone. It's how he's survived this long, in the cold ocean depths. He can take care of himself. Other creatures--other merfolk--are dangerous; he has the scars to prove it. Humans, however, are the worst of all. But one day, Kylo finds he has no other choice but to turn to one for help. The human he meets is nothing like he expects, and all he knows is he wants more. Is he willing to pay the price?

Word Count: 4,394

Warnings: fem!AFAB!reader, plot set up, kylo ren needs a hug confirmed, non-graphic descriptions of violence & bodily harm, brief mentions of blood & wounds, very vague medical descriptions lol, minor character death (happens off screen), oh but there's also one that happens on screen but it's brief, big time ocean nostalgia from your dear author— let me know if I need to add anything else!

A/N: Thank you @paper-n-ashes for beta reading! Icon behavior tbh.

Prefer AO3? I gotcha!

Kylo prided himself on his independence—his ferocity, his ability to fight his way out of every corner. His body was scarred and battle-hardened, but that didn’t matter. It was proof he was a survivor, and it’s not like he had anyone around him to care about his appearance. Most creatures he saw took one look at his massive form and ran.

He was intimidating, all muscle, his fins torn from previous fights. While his skin was pale, his scales were an onyx color; it made blending into the ocean depths easier. He couldn’t understand why merfolk’s standard of beauty was a brightly colored tail; didn’t it make camouflaging more difficult?

He guessed most merfolk didn’t care about that. They lived in large groups, colorful and cheerful and busy amongst other plant and animal life. Not many delved into the cold, murky areas Kylo had made his home. But he’d been there as long as he could remember, and there was no sense in changing things. He wouldn’t be welcome in the warmer waters anyway. They didn’t want him, and he didn’t want them.

So he kept away, and no one dared bother him. Those that did quickly learned not to. He had killed many creatures, and while it was all in defense, his reputation still preceded him. After all, he’d once fought one of the most dangerous predators the ocean knew, and he’d won.

He’d killed a human, after they’d captured him in their net. He’d overpowered them easily, yanked them from their boat into the water; he hadn’t even flinched when their little fishing knife plunged into his side. He’d watched with a furious gaze as the air left their lungs, their pathetic struggling eventually ceasing. Then he’d calmly cut himself loose from the netting. The knife wound had scarred over, but it was just one more to add to his collection.

Yes, Kylo prided himself on his abilities. He had no fear, no weakness; he never ran from a fight.

He was running now.

He’d been foolish. He should have realized why his normal hunting grounds had been so devoid of fish for the past few days—he should have seen the signs, should have been more careful. But hunger makes you desperate; makes you stupid. He hadn’t been paying attention, too focused on the singular fish he’d found.

It seemed to happen all at once. A sudden blow to his head that left him reeling, pain shooting through his skull as he whips himself around in attempts to find his attacker. A searing burn in his side the exact moment he feels a sharp pinch at the back of his neck. His head starts to spin with confusion, the scent of his own blood in the water.

He spots a figure out of the corner of his eye, and his heart leaps into his throat. It was a human, and they had some sort of weapon pointed right at him.

Kylo doesn’t think—he just bolts. They don’t seem to follow him at first, and he doesn’t understand why until he starts to feel the first symptoms of whatever they’ve injected him with. It makes him dizzy, makes his vision start to blur as a sickening metallic taste fills his mouth.

No, he thinks. I won’t let them do this.

He pulls strength from deep within and pushes himself to swim faster, farther. He hears a muffled shout from behind, and oh, they’re pursuing him now.

He swims frantically, skirting around rocks and through kelp forests, desperately trying to lose them even though he thinks he might hear the dull thrum of a boat motor over the thudding of blood in his ears. Kriff, he was so tired. It would be so easy to let the human magic overtake him, to sink to the ocean floor.

Was this death? A dreamless sleep that crept over your senses until you had no choice but to succumb to it? Kylo doesn’t want to die, not like this. Not where they can get to him, at least.

He doesn’t know where he’s going, doesn’t even know where he is until he catches a quick glimpse of a familiar rock formation. His mind is in shambles, drugged and panicked, lacking oxygen as his gills burn with the strain of his labored breathing.

A cove. Not too far from here. Too shallow for a boat, too rocky for humans. A cave to shelter in. Go, swim, fast, now, now, go.

The voice in his head doesn’t feel like his own—it’s frantic, urgent, thoughtless. Usually he was so composed, controlled. The threat of death had turned him into nothing more than an animal; he’s never felt so small.

He ducks and weaves as he swims towards the hidden cove, trying to convince himself he’s doing it on purpose and not just fading in and out of consciousness. If he can just stay awake a little longer, if he can just make it to that kriffing cave, he can die with dignity. Alone and cold, drugged and bleeding, but away from the humans trying to hurt him.

Kylo nearly loses his speed when he breeches the shallow waters of the cove, his mind wanting to shut down now that he’s made it. He forces himself to keep going despite his nausea and lightheadedness. His lungs are screaming, muscles aching; he scrapes his tail against the rocky outcroppings as he searches frantically for the mouth of the underwater cave.

It’s here, it’s here. I know it’s here, I’ve seen it, I mapped it. Where is it?!

His hands snag against an opening, just barely big enough for him to squeeze through, and he darts into it. It’s a tight fit, and for a brief second Kylo is terrified he’ll get stuck and pass out from whatever the humans hit him with—he’ll die, trapped, never to be found.

But then, quick as a flash, he’s through to the other side. The small tunnel opens up into a larger cavern, protected from the elements and decorated with several pools of varying depths. He’d explored it once, curious, thinking it would be a nice place to hide. It was a little too close to humanity for his comfort, but then again he’d never seen this area very populated. He’d figured he’d keep it in the back of his mind for later.

Turns out later was now.

Kylo pulls himself to the edge of the main and deepest pool, looking around urgently through spotty vision. There was a pool in the corner, half hidden by rocks—it looked shallow, but just deep enough to be submerged. Exhaling fast, he hauls himself up and out of the water, coughing and choking as his body tries to adjust from using his gills to his mouth and nose to breathe. It was never an easy transition, and he hated doing it, but right now it was what he needed.

He growls to himself as he pulls his heavy body along the rough stone cave floor, his normally nimble tail a dead weight. If he wasn’t about to faint, he thinks he’d be a bit more graceful. By the time he rolls unceremoniously into the shallow pool, his palms are all scraped up and bleeding. He doesn’t care; barely feels the sting. He’s not really feeling much of anything at this point, head spinning out of control.

Laying like this on his back, head propped up against the ledge of the pool, Kylo gazes up at the jagged rock ceiling. His lungs crackle as he heaves in breaths, heart still pounding loudly. It’s hard to hear anything else, and he wonders again if his attackers are closing in on him. Does it even matter? His dying mind questions. He doesn’t have an opportunity to think of a retort before his body finally breaks, and he succumbs to the drug induced sleep.

—————————————————————

You wake to the familiar sounds of distant crashing waves, whistling wind, and calls of seagulls. After years on the island, the noise was a comfort.

You’d grown up here, in this same cottage by the sea--been raised fishing, hunting for mussels, searching through tide pools. You and your siblings would bike into town to sell your wares at the local market before heading down to the pier to watch the boats come and go. It was a simple life, sometimes a little isolated, but it was good nonetheless. You loved the island and the ocean, and held great respect for them both. If you honor them, they will honor you--at least, that’s what your mother always said.

Your siblings grew up and moved to the mainland, but still you stayed. Got yourself a little apartment in town above the local grocery, worked at the marina as a clerk, and visited your parents on the weekends. When your mother passed, your father followed just weeks later—a broken heart, everyone said. Suddenly, your beloved little slice of heaven—of home—belonged to you.

So you moved back into the cottage you grew up in, a place haunted by the ghosts of memories and the sounds of the sea. If you’re being honest with yourself, you wouldn’t trade it for the world, no matter how many times you pretend to entertain your siblings’ urging to rent the place out. Think of all the money you’d make. It’s the perfect vacation spot.

Maybe so, but you don’t care. You don’t want strangers in your home—not those tourists who come to fawn over the village, who eat up the landscape with cameras without really seeing it, who gawk at the fishermen, who laugh at the prices at the market. They would probably call your cottage quaint and cute. You could picture them tittering over your family photos on the mantle, over the door frame where heights had been marked over the years.

Tourists, who both long for and pity an isolated life on the ocean. Oh, they have it so easy here, away from the stress of the city. Oh, could you imagine living this way, barely scraping by?

No, you didn’t want them in your home, a place so sacred. You didn’t care what money you were missing out on—you got by fine with your pay from the marina, and picking up shifts at the local cafe. You loved your cottage—savored every creaky floorboard, every leaky windowsill. The drip of the bathroom faucet, the howl of the sea wind through the chimney—these were the sounds of familiarity, of safety. No one would appreciate them like you did.

Twisting around in bed, you turn your gaze towards the open window that was letting in a fresh, salty breeze. It was early, the light still dim and grey, the air a little chilly. It makes you want to curl back up under your covers, catch a couple more hours of shut-eye. It was your day off, after all; you could afford to sleep in.

Except.

You sigh, scrubbing your hands over your face as you remember what your yesterday brain had planned. You’d told yourself you’d get up in order to gather mussels at low tide. There were plenty of tide pools around, especially in the caved area of the cove. It was your family’s little secret—the hidden grotto was all but invisible from the outside. The only reason you even knew about it was because your brother had been too adventurous for his own good as a child, always getting into places he shouldn’t.

Mussels, clams, seaweed, probably fish in the deeper tide pools—maybe some sea urchin you could sell at the market. Your stomach growls.

Well, that’s that.

Groaning, you haul yourself up and out of bed, wincing at the cold hardwood on your bare feet. You bounce on your toes, shivering, goosebumps appearing on your skin as you pad over to close the window. Despite growing up here, you were always surprised at the temperature. You stubbornly let in the breeze at night, all bundled up under your covers, pretending when you woke it would be nice and warm.

But nope, not here; even in the dead of summer the mornings were chilly. Sometimes you dreamed that you lived on one of those big, luxurious, heated beaches—hot sun and white sand as far as the eye could see, no craggy cliffs or rocky shores. Eh. You probably wouldn’t like it much anyway, too used to your own environment.

Glancing at the clock, you quickly throw on some warm clothes, half-assing your regular morning routine before grabbing your tide-pool hunting essentials: a flashlight, knee-high waders, a large bucket, and your trusty fishing knife. You take a deep breath at the front door, bracing yourself for the chill. Just think of the feast you’ll have later. And you can reward yourself with a hot bath and long nap.

It’s not too long a distance from the cottage to the rocky shoreline, and while the low tide has revealed the tempting sand leading towards the rolling waves, you head towards the jagged outcropping to the left. Years of following the same path means it doesn’t take you long at all to find the hidden entrance and carefully make your way into the cavern.

In the middle of a sunny day, light shone in through various cracks in the ceiling, glinting off the water and creating flickering reflections against the stone walls. Sometimes you came here just to think, or to take a dip in the largest pool. The water was always warmer here, protected from the full power of the currents by the rock face.

Now, however, it was dark—only the dimmest bit of grey morning light trickled in. You flick on the flashlight, humming softly to yourself. The melody echoes off the stone walls, and you set your bucket down at the closest tide pool, readying yourself to hunker down and get to work. The beam of the light scans the various pools as you turn to get your knife from its holder, and something catches your eye. It’s not much, and honestly if you weren’t so familiar with the cave you probably wouldn’t have noticed the dark shape in the far corner pool.

At first, you do a double take, eyes sweeping over the little red-tinged puddles on the floor. Blood. You grip your knife, mind racing with possibilities. Was there someone in here with you? Surely not. No one ever came out here. Swallowing hard, you take a couple steps towards the corner, torch in one hand and knife in the other. As you get closer, your gaze tracks the diluted blood trail into the pool, and at first all you notice is the black scales and fins of a fish. The grip on your knife loosens just a little, the fear of a possible threat fading.

It's a big animal, you can tell that even as you make your way over, and you wonder idly how it got in. You knew, logically, that the cave connected to the ocean somehow, but you can't imagine the tide being so high for a fish as large as this one to find its way into the back corner. You’re focused on this conundrum as you round the ledge that’s been shielding the animal from your full view--so much so that it takes you more than a couple moments for your mind to compute just what it's seeing.

The tail is thick and muscular, decorated in obsidian scales that lead to delicate looking fins at the bottom. There were smaller, fan looking fins on the sides of the tail--they were all ripped up, as if they had been torn in previous fights. Your brain clocks all of this in seconds but doesn’t dwell, because it’s focused on the top half of the animal--creature--merman.

Merman. A fucking merman.

The ebony scales at the waist fade seamlessly into pale skin and lean muscle, revealing a long, firm torso. If you weren’t so aware of the tail, you might--might--think he could pass for human. Well, except for the webbed fingers and razor-sharp nails adorning each of his hands. He’s half submerged in the water of the pool, dark hair covering part of his face so you can’t see it.

You stand there, frozen, staring, not quite knowing what to do. You weren’t… scared; weren’t even very surprised aside from the initial shock of seeing him. You’d grown up hearing stories, traditions, tales—it was more than folklore here on the island. Some of the elders believed in merfolk more than ghosts, more than aliens, more than god.

Mr. Mackenzie told tales of mermaids luring in his shipmates as prey, drowning them. You always thought they were just stories designed to scare children away from dangerous tides—and maybe they were. But other accounts, you weren’t so sure of.

It was the wonder on Ms. Fraser’s face when she recounted the long-ago memory of swimming along sandbars with a girl who could breathe underwater. It was the quiet reverence of Mr. McDougall’s voice when he whispered about removing an old fish hook from a merman’s tail. It was the tears in Mrs. Buchanan’s eyes when she insisted merfolk rescued her husband from a fishing boat wreck.

You believed them. You always had, even if you’d done it silently, bashfully. You knew those who still made offerings to the ocean and to the beings that dwelled within the depths. Your island community believed in things not seen, but passed down through generations of storytelling. It was your history, kept alive despite first hand encounters becoming few and far between.

Except, here it was—your own little slice of history, right in front of you. If you took a couple more steps, you could reach out and touch it.

Is he breathing?

The little voice in your head brings you back down to your body, and a sudden fear overtakes you. You can’t let him die—if he was even still alive to begin with. You glance nervously at the pinkish trail of blood leading to the pool; the sight makes you reach some sort of resolve.

Hyper-aware of the claws on his hands, you kneel down beside him, hesitating only briefly before you settle your hand on his large bicep. He doesn’t stir, and your stomach twists unpleasantly. Your hand slides down to his wrist, and while you can admit you aren’t an expert on merfolk anatomy, surely you’ll be able to feel a pulse from the spidery blue veins under his pale skin.

Relief washes over you in a wave when you do, indeed, find a pulse—slow, but strong. Okay, not dead then. Still, he doesn’t move, so you take it upon yourself to move his damp hair out of his face, curling it behind his prominent ears.

He’s handsome.

You feel yourself flush, immediately chastising yourself for the thought. This was—best case scenario—a complete stranger who was wounded and in possible danger. Worst case scenario… you didn’t want to think about. Needless to say, it was no time to be thinking about his level of attractiveness.

You force yourself back into action, cupping his head as you hold your hand under his nose. His breathing is steady, and you gently lay his head back where it rested on the rock ledge. Your fingertips brush against something, and you frown as you realize he has a lump on the back of his skull—as if he’s been hit. You can only hope it hasn’t done too serious damage; it wasn’t like you could really take him to the hospital.

Your attention moves down his body, and you make yourself bypass the gills in his neck in order to properly gauge his wounds. Minor cuts and scrapes littered his skin; from the number of scars decorating his form, you figure these aren’t a big deal, no matter how nasty they look. Not compared to the gash on his side, at least.

You wince when you see it, the delicate flesh torn open and ragged. The cut makes you think it’s from some man-made weapon, and you shake your head in disbelief. Who would want to harm a merman? Around here, it would be blasphemous to do such a thing.

Blood no longer seeps from the wound; you hope that’s a good sign—and that the salt water has somewhat cleaned the area. You think it may have needed stitches, but you’re no doctor with the ability to do such a procedure. If you're being honest with yourself, it’s probably far too late for stitches anyway. The wound would be another nasty scar, likely similar to the one marring his face, but the area isn’t red with infection. That’s a good sign, right?

You sigh, feeling helpless. You want to do something for the creature. There’s only one thing you can really think of. Chewing on your bottom lip, you study his face again. He still seems unresponsive, and you can only hope he stays that way a little longer.

The short trek back up to your home feels the longest it’s ever been, and your legs and lungs are burning by the time you rush through the front door, having run the entire way. You heave in breaths as you pack some supplies into a bag. It wasn’t much, but you should be able to use the waterproof gauze and antibiotic ointment to dress the nasty-looking scrapes on his hands and chest.

You hesitate for a moment before going into your bathroom and grabbing the waterproof pillow you had in the tub. Maybe it was silly, but you hated thinking about him lying on the hard ground for fuck knows how long. You almost grab some food for him—maybe the fish currently thawing in your fridge—but you decide not to. You weren’t sure what he ate, and there was no telling when he’d wake up anyway.

Your breathing has just settled back to normal by the time you’re jogging back to the cave, careful not to slip on any of the wet grass and rocks. The sun starts to peak out of the morning clouds, letting pale beams of light warm the grey morning. The cavern is illuminated slightly better when you enter; you find you can lay the flashlight at a distance and see just fine.

The merman is still asleep, and you feel a little relieved. You aren’t exactly sure what will happen when he wakes up—for all you know, you’ll return later in the day to find him gone. As it is, you plop down next to the pool he was in and get to work patching him up the best you can.

Taking the towel you brought with you, you dab at his scrapes, trying to dry them a little before applying the ointment and then carefully using the gauze to cover the wounds. His palms are so torn up that you wrap them completely, your brows knitted the entire time. It must hurt, but still, he doesn’t stir.

Finally, you’re left with the gash in his side. You debate with yourself as to whether you should cover it or not—if you even can. The front of his torso was out of the water with the way he was laying, but that could change at any second, and any real pressure on his body would cause him to sink into the pool.

Your urge to help him wins out in the end, and you decide you’ll try to bandage it to protect it from any further irritation, despite knowing water would seep in regardless. You lean forward, extra careful not to lose your balance as you pat at his pale skin with the towel once more. It’s an awkward angle and slow work, you trying your best to be gentle with him.

You add as much ointment as you dare to the bandaging, not wanting to put too much onto an open wound, before fixing the gauze to his torso with some waterproof medical tape. There. Sure, it wasn’t going to work a miracle but at this point you weren’t sure what else to do.

He’ll be okay, you tell yourself. He’ll be okay.

You take a moment to watch the rise and fall of his chest, reassured by the movement. Your gaze again drifts to his tail in fascination—you hope that, maybe, you’ll come back later and he’ll be awake. Maybe he’ll be friendly, maybe the two of you can talk. It’s illogical, you know. This wasn’t some fairytale, this was real life. You honestly just hoped he didn’t try to rip you to shreds on sight.

It’s with this thought in mind that you shift away from him, telling yourself you can’t sit and watch him all day. You have several other pools to collect mussels from, breakfast to cook, chores to do. You’ve done enough, and you have to trust that his body will do the rest—you refuse to entertain the idea that he might not make it.

Sighing, you pull yourself further away, but then remember the pillow you’d brought along. You grab it quickly before shuffling back towards him. He’s got a large lump of seaweed shoved haphazardly under his head in what you assume was a desperate attempt to soften the rock face underneath.

His damp hair is surprisingly soft when you gently lift his head to clear the ground of debris. You can’t help but run your fingers through it gently, brushing it behind his ears, almost trying to soothe his subconscious. You settle the small foam pillow in place, and slowly let his head and neck rest against it. You hope it makes some sort of difference, though you know it might be a childish thought.

Your task finished, you force yourself away from him once more, even though you suddenly ache to continue touching him. Picking up your things, you continue on your mission of prying mussels from each tidepool. You move slower and quieter than you normally would, shooting the merman furtive glances every few seconds.

By the time you’re finished with the last pool, you can’t find an excuse to linger any longer. He was as safe as he was going to be. The only thing left to do now was wait. You spare your new charge one last lingering look, then grab your things and head back to the house.

______________________________________________________________

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[trulymadlysydney]

Scorpio Season: Two

Harry is the ghost that haunts the sorority house, Misty is the only one who can see him, and Scorpio season is far too short.

tw: Death, brief mentions of sexual assault, lots and lots of filthy smut

(This is also 26.k words so like... be prepared for a long read)

Read Part One Here

***Do Not Repost Without Permission***

It’s Halloween, and Misty is drunk.

Okay, so perhaps she isn’t quite drunk, but she’s getting there, and Harry is doing his best to take care of her.   (And his best isn’t exactly good enough, considering she’s the only one who can see him.)

It takes him fifteen minutes to get her attention, and he lets out a sigh of relief when he finally sees her walking towards him- dressed head to toe like the devil (if the devil were, of course, sexy and wore a skin tight red dress and fishnets).

When she reaches him, she smirks, and he doesn’t know why.   “What?” She asks, raising her eyebrows challengingly.

For the sake of Misty’s pride, Harry turns away before anyone can see her talking to nothing.  “Follow me,” he says, nodding over his shoulder and leading her into the hallway.

They turn the corner into her bedroom, and Harry gently closes the door behind them. When it’s just the two of them, Misty grins.  “What’s up, buttercup?”

Harry smirks. “You doing alright?”

“M-hm!” Misty says with a nod.  “You want a drink?”

“Can’t, love.”

Misty’s smile slowly fades into a frown.  “You mean ghosts can’t let loose? Have a little fun?”

“Who says I’m not having fun?”  

Misty considers his words and offers him a shrug.  “I mean you’re just watching a bunch of drunk college kids in stuipd costumes get even more drunk and make out with each other.  That isn’t really my idea of a good time.”

“And yet here you are.”

Misty giggles.  “You know what I meaaaan.”

“I’m watching you,” Harry says smugly.  “That’s all I need.”

She laughs again, turning away so he can’t see the tinge of embarrassment on her face.  “Don’t watch me,” she says.  “Creep.”

“Not a creep,” Harry insists, plopping onto her bed.  “Just want you to take care of yourself.  That’s all.”

“I wish you could take care of meeee,” Misty says, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively and punctuating her sentence with a half-hiccup, half-giggle.

Harry doesn’t know if Misty meant to say that, or if she even meant it in the way that he’s taking it,  but he knows that if he had a beating heart, it would be racing at her words.   He brushes it off, smiling at her softly.  “M’taking care of you right now, aren’t I?”

“S’not what I meaaaaan,” Misty says, through another giggle, and now Harry knows exactly how her sentence was meant to be taken.

He laughs.  “Sunshine why don’t we get you some water, hm?”

“I like it when you call me that,” Misty says, sauntering clumsily towards Harry.  “‘Sunshine.’  Makes me happy.”

“I like making you happy,” Harry replies softly.  “Now, will you make me happy by getting yourself some water please?  I would get you some myself but, you know.”  He gestures vaguely with his hands.

“You can’t!” she says, tittering to herself.  “Cause you’re a ghost.  I know that.”

Her words sting just the tiniest bit, even though Harry knows she doesn’t mean it in a negative way.  He laughs them off anyway.  “You’re stalling, Misty.”

“I’m not stalling!” Misty says.  “I wish I could stay in here with you all night.”

And God, Harry wishes that too.

“And miss all the fun of the party out there?” Harry asks, eyeing her as she wobbles a bit around the room.  “I saw the way those guys were looking at you.”  He wiggles his eyebrows, and laughs as she gags.

“Ew,” she says, face twisting up in disgust.  “They’re the worst.”

“You didn’t like their flirting?  I thought that the trick the one guy did with the beer can on his head was very appealing. Especially with him dressed like a Greek God and all that.”

“You’re stupid.”

Harry grins.  “Water, Misty, “ he reminds her.   “You need to get yourself a glass of water.”

“Alright alriiiiight!” Misty holds up her hands in surrender. “You’re so neeeeeedy.”

Harry giggles, rising to his feet just in time to steady her a bit when she wobbles.  She laughs softly at the feeling of his cold hands against her hips, turning in his arms to face him.

“You smell good,” she says, her face mere inches from his.  “Have I ever told you that?”

Harry realizes that he’s held his hands in the same spot for just a tick too long, and he quickly drops them to his sides.  “No,” he says,  “Never told me that.  What do I smell like?”

“Like…”  Misty sniffs the air dramatically.  “Like cinnamon.  You’re laughin’ at me but it’s true!  Smells really good.”  She frowns up at him, as if a new thought just crossed her mind.  “What am I gonna do when you’re gone?”

Now her words really sting, and Harry struggles to just laugh them off this time.  Still, he knows tonight isn’t the time for sadness, and he doesn’t want to ruin Misty’s buzz.  So he grins.  “Buy a cinnamon candle?”

Misty pouts.  “Not the same.”

Harry laughs, booping her nose with the tip of his finger.  “Now I know you’re stalling.”

“Is it working?”  Misty grins mischievously up at him, and Harry shakes his head.

“No,” he says through another laugh.  “You little sneak.”

Misty giggles.  “But you’ll stay with me, right?  All night?”

“If you want me to.”  Harry nods.  “Yeah.  You can’t talk to me though.  Unless we’re in here.”

Misty frowns.  “I know.  Sucks.”

She turns like she’s going to leave finally, but then stops again.  “Why can’t you show yourself in front of everyone?” she asks, as if the thought just dawned on her.

Harry sighs, because as much as he knows she’s stalling, it is a valid question.  “I suppose I could,” he says, “If I really wanted to.”

“Don’t you want to?”

“Not really, no.”  Harry offers her a half hearted shrug, and when he sees her face drop he quickly tacks on, “Not that I don’t want to be able to openly spend time with you, of course! You know I do. It’s just difficult.”

“Why is it difficult?” Misty cocks her head to the side like a curious child, and it’s so cute Harry could burst.

“It’s exhausting,” he explains.  “As ghosts we only have so much energy. And it’s affected by the energies of others in the room as well. Manifesting takes up a lot of that energy, especially when you’re manifesting in front of a lot of other beings.”  He smiles, pausing to allow her to process what he’s just said before continuing his explanation.

“When it’s only you who can see me, the amount of energy I’m putting forward is far less than, say, the amount it would take for me to manifest in front of everyone else.  On top of that, being around all different energies-- feeling them interact with your own-- you sort of adopt those energies as well.  You take them upon yourself.  I don’t like doing it.  It doesn’t feel good.”

“Oh.”  Misty frowns.  “That sucks.”

“It does suck,” Harry says, nodding his head.  “Especially since I can’t walk around tonight and show you off the way you deserve.”

Misty giggles shyly, and Harry beams at her before continuing.  “Now if you don’t go and get yourself some water, I’m going to have to expose myself to everyone.”

Misty’s laugh is louder than it usually is, and Harry has no choice but to laugh along with her.  “Okay!” she says.  “Sorry! God.”

Misty makes her way over to the bedroom door with Harry close on her heels. He holds his arms out just in case she needs extra stabilizing.  As soon as the door opens, she’s met with a loud cheering from the people in the hallway.

Harry recognizes Rosie and Greg, but there are two other guys there that he’s never seen before.  And by the looks of their cheers, they’re super happy to see Misty.

“Mistaaaaay!” One of the guys, who is dressed as a lifeguard, shouts.  “What were you doin’ in your room all alone?”

Harry scrambles to come up with an excuse for Misty, when she surprises him and comes up with one all on her own.

“My little sister was calling me, weirdo,” Misty says. “She forgot our parent’s wifi password.”  She glances over her shoulder and shoots Harry a very subtle wink, and honestly Harry’s impressed.  He chuckles to himself, shaking his head.

“Quick thinking there, sunshine.”

Misty ignores him but her smirk does not go unnoticed.  Her attention is quickly pulled, however, when the original guy speaks up again.

“You’re lookin’ good tonight, girl.  You know Josh is looking for you?”

And just like that, Harry’s ears are perked and his stomach is sinking.

“Yeah?” Misty asks, completely uninterested as she tries to push through the crowd. “Well I’ve been here!”  She almost seems to sober up, and Harry is intrigued as to why.

���You should go see what he wants.”  Lifeguard wiggles his eyebrows, and Harry takes a protective and unintentional step forward.

Misty rolls her eyes, seemingly unbothered.  “If it’s really that important he can find me.”

Lifeguard whistles.  “Damn, Misty, alright!   Not interested?”

Misty spares a quick glance in Harry’s direction.  “I’m not, no.”

It should make Harry feel much, much better.  It really should.  But it doesn’t.

Misty, of course, offers no time for explanation-- which she shouldn’t, Harry knows, but still. She only continues to push through the crowd, with Harry close behind-- and he tries to ignore the random shivers from the people he accidentally walks through.

“Misty--” He says quietly.

“It’s fine.”  It’s barely audible, and of course Harry can’t blame her for that; for fucks sake, she can’t look like she’s talking to herself.

Misty stumbles a bit as she enters the kitchen, opening the fridge and reaching inside for a jello shot.  Harry keeps a close eye on her-- not because he feels he has to, by any means, but mostly because it’s getting to the point in the night where things are starting to get a bit nutty.  The boys are becoming handsier, the girls are becoming more giggly and loud.  In his lifetime, Harry had been to quite a few parties-- so he knows exactly the direction this night is headed.

Misty is about to close the fridge when Harry offers her a pointed look.  “Forgetting something?”

“Water!” Misty says out loud, without thinking.  “Duh! Sorry.”

She reaches into the fridge just as a voice comes from behind Harry.  “There you are, babe! Who are you talking to?”

Harry and Misty turn at the same time to see who the voice belongs to, and Harry immediately frowns.

He comes to the conclusion (based on little to no evidence) that this must be Josh-- just by the way he’s eyeing Misty like prey.  He’s dressed like Tom Cruise from Risky Business, only he’s left the shirt unbuttoned far enough that his abs (or lack thereof) are visible.

Misty speaks, confirming Harry’s thoughts.  “Hi, Josh.”

She sounds less than thrilled to be seeing him, and she goes stiff when he throws a hand around her waist and pulls her in for a hug.  He leans in to kiss the side of her head, but Misty quickly ducks away, regaining her distance from him and opening her water bottle.

“Not happy to see me?” Josh pouts.

“No, I am,” she says, unconvincingly.  She opens her water and is about to take a sip when Josh scoffs.

“You’re drinking water?  Lightweight.  Thought you were gonna get lit with us!”

“I am!” Misty insists. “Just don’t want to end my night with my head in the toilet.”

“You know I’d take care of you babe,” Josh says.  “What’s in your cup tonight?”

Misty takes a few long sips from her water bottle, eyeing Harry pointedly, before she speaks.  “Uh.  I don’t know exactly, Kennedy made it for me.”

“Hell yeah,” Josh says, eyeing her glass.  “You’re runnin’ low though, want me to get you another?”

Before Misty can even answer, Josh has taken the cup from her hands.  He’s walking over to the stash of various liquors on the counter, and Harry immediately moves to stand beside him.  He watches carefully as Josh pours the liquor into Misty’s cup.

“Heard you talkin’ in here,” Josh says.  “Who were you talking to?”

“What?”  Misty and Harry share a quick glance before she speaks.  “Oh.  No one.  I was talking to myself.”

“Yourself?”  Josh scoffs, still pouring vodka into Misty’s drink.  Harry has to stop himself from reaching out to stop him from pouring.  “You’re a little weirdo sometimes, Misty.  You know that?”

Harry lets out an annoyed sigh, wanting more than anything to put Josh in his place. Misty only smiles passively.  “I know.”

“Quite a bit of fuckin vodka he’s putting in there,” Harry says.   “He’s trying to get you drunk, love.”

“I know,” Misty repeats, both to Harry and to Josh.

“Hot little weirdo though,” Josh says, adding only a tiny splash of cranberry juice before turning around to offer Misty her cup again.  He pauses, just as he’s about to hand it to her.

“Did it suddenly get cold in here?”  he asks, glancing around him.

“I could kill him,” Harry states, emotionless.

Misty has to fight a giggle, reaching forward to take her drink from Josh.  “No, I don’t feel anything,” she says.  She takes a quick sip, immediately regretting her actions when her esophagus is burned with the taste of vodka.

Misty shivers and gags, coughing in an attempt to get the horrible taste out of her mouth.  “Jesus, Josh, what did you put in this?”

“Vodka cran baby!” Josh says.  “Know you like those!”

“Vodka with a fuckin’ shot of cran,” Harry adds.

Misty coughs, putting her cup down on the counter.  Josh frowns.  “You don’t like it?”

“No,” Misty chokes, “I mean it’s fine but… fuck, dude, how much vodka did you put in there?”

“Nothing you can’t handle, Misty!” Josh steps forward, hip checking Misty and nearly knocking her over.  “You’re a tough little girl aren’t you.”

“I really could kill him,” Harry adds.

Misty clears her throat, finally done with coughing.  “You need to work on your bartending skills, Josh.”

“Yeah?”  Josh puts his cup down, moving in on Misty.  Before she even has time to react, he has her pinned against the counter, with both his arms trapped on either side of her. She leans her head back in an attempt to get further away from him.  He, completely oblivious to social cues, only grins.  “Maybe I do.  But I know of one skill I don’t need to work on.”

“Josh—“ Misty couldn’t lean any further back if she tried, and she glances at Harry out of the corner of her eyes.

Josh leans in, pressing his lips to Misty’s neck. “C’mon, baby, you know what I’m talking about.  Don’t you remember how good it was?”

Harry takes a step forward as Misty manages to get her hands unpinned and shoves them weakly against Josh’s chest. “You’re drunk,” she says.

“And you’re not?” Josh licks his lips, trying to kiss Misty again. “Take another sip then.”

Harry has never felt so helpless in his entire existence, and he doesn’t even think twice before reaching forward to yank Josh off Misty. Misty coincidentally pushes at his chest at the exact same time, sending Josh practically toppling over.

He regains his balance after a moment,, glancing at Misty with a confused look.  There’s a thick silence in the air, and Harry instinctively takes a step between Josh and Misty.   Josh glances around, as if searching for whatever just yanked him, and Misty shoots Harry a nervous look.

A menacing grin spreads slowly across Josh’s face, and he swipes his teeth with his tongue. “Damn, girl. You’re strong.”

Misty blinks back at him, swallowing. “Josh,” she says slowly. “I’m not interested.”

“That’s not what you said last time.”

Harry feels like his insides are on fire with anger, and Misty rolls her eyes.

“Yes, it is actually.  Interesting how you don’t seem to recall that.”

“Say the word and I’ll kill him,” Harry says.

Misty rolls her eyes, which goes completely unnoticed by Josh as he continues his tirade. “Look, I know you’re just being stubborn and I get it! I do.” He picks up Misty’s abandoned drink, sloshing the cup around in his hand. “Why don’t you just finish this drink I made you and then come find me when it hits you and you stop being such a prude?”

Harry can’t hold back any longer, and he doesn’t even think twice before he moves in- slapping the cup and tilting it all over onto Josh’s skin and his stupid white shirt.

Josh shrieks, and the look on his face is a mix between shock and confusion. He eyes the now empty cup in his hand as if he can’t believe he just spilled it all over himself. Misty scoffs quietly to herself.

“Wow Josh, you might want to lay off the drinks.”

“Fucker,” Harry adds.

“I’m not that drunk!” Josh insists, raising his voice and taking a step towards Misty.  Harry immediately steps between them once again, ready to push him away at a moment’s notice.

It’s at that exact moment that Kennedy walks in, saving the day.  She instantly notices the tension in the room, and her eyes dart between Misty and Josh.  She laughs when she notices his spilled drink.

“Woooow,” she says.  “What happened here?”

“I stumbled,” Josh laughs, trying to regain his composure and play the situation off.  “Misty saw it, huh?”

Misty shoots Kennedy a glance before muttering, “Yeah.  It was crazy.”

“Mm,” Kennedy says, and it’s obvious that she seems to have an idea of exactly what happened. She doesn’t like Josh, that much is obvious. Harry is immensely grateful for her, knowing that she’s going to take care of Misty in a way that he can’t.  “Well you should probably get that cleaned up, huh?  And maybe lay off the drinks a bit.”

Kennedy immediately walks to Misty’s side, and Harry can tell Josh knows his game is over by the look he gives. Neither Kennedy or Misty hint at being upset, and Misty shoots Harry a thankful look.

“I’m not drunk, Kennedy,” Josh lies, a smile on his face that makes it very obvious that he’s offended.

“Okay,” Kennedy scoffs.  “How bout you, Misty?  Need another drink?”

Misty’s eyes dart from Kennedy to Josh to Harry, who watches her with helpless and sympathetic eyes.  Misty wants more than anything to curl into Harry’s side, but she knows she can’t, and she’s thankful for Kennedy for stepping in when she did.

“Uh,” Misty says, clearing her throat.  “Yeah, actually, I do.  This idiot here spilled mine.”

Kennedy rolls her eyes, but it’s apparent she knows about the situation with Josh.  “What a douche,” she teases. shooting Josh a look as if to say she’s not actually teasing-- she means what she’s saying.  “Why don’t you go clean yourself up.  Misty, I’ll make you another drink.”

Josh rolls his eyes, scoffing as if he can’t believe what just happened.  “Yeah,” he says.  “Alright.”  He winks at Misty, shooting her an overly confident “I’ll see you later” before exiting the kitchen.

Kennedy, Misty, and Harry all watch him exit most ungracefully before Kennedy turns to Misty.  “You okay?  Like, actually.”

“Yes,” Misty lies.

“No,” Harry adds.

Kennedy rolls her eyes as she gets to work making Misty another drink. “He’s a fuckin douche canoe. I can’t believe he even still thinks he can talk to you.”

“I know.” Misty grabs a paper towel to clean up the bit of the drink that spilled onto the ground. “I don’t either.”  

Harry watches Misty, continuing to feel helpless— almost as if he’s butting in on a conversation he shouldn’t be. But he doesn’t move. He remains still, almost frozen in place as he watches Misty clean up the mess he made.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “I should’ve planned that better.”

“It’s okay,” Misty says, both to Harry and Kennedy. “I’m fine. He didn’t do anything.”

“He wouldn’t have given up though,” Kennedy says, pouring the actual correct amount of vodka into Misty’s cup. “He’s a creep.”

Misty sighs. “He is. But—“

“No buts.” Kennedy and Harry both say this at the exact same time, and it takes Harry a moment to process.

“God I hate him,” Kennedy says. “Don’t let him intimidate you.  Here.”  She finishes mixing the drink in Misty’s cup and hands it to her. “Stay with me, yeah?”

Misty smiles gratefully at Kennedy. “Thank you.”  She glances over at Harry, a soft grateful smile directed in his direction as well.

Kennedy and Misty make their way out of the kitchen, and Harry once again feels helpless as he follows them.  Should he leave her alone? She asked him not to, but now he feels awkward and, if he’s being honest, angry that he couldn’t help her more.  

Harry numbly follows Misty and Kennedy through the house and into a cozy but messy living room filled with tons of other drunk people.  He feels a slight sense of relief when, immediately upon sitting down, Misty’s eyes search for him. She seems to visibly relax when she sees him, and he smiles sadly at her.  He reaches out to stoke lovingly at her cheek, and try as she might to not react, she can’t help but flutter her lashes closed for a brief second and lean into his touch.

The rest of the night seems to pass by slowly.  Misty hardly touches her drink at all, and as normal as she’s behaving around everyone else, Harry-- and Kennedy, it seems-- can tell that something is wrong.  She seems sad, her eyes less bright, and as the hours tick on she becomes less and less secretive about her glances towards Harry.

The party ends-- finally-- around 3am, with most of its guests falling asleep in various places throughout the house.  Misty moves slowly, helping Kennedy clean up the apartment, and Harry follows her anxiously-- wishing he, too, could help.

“Are you okay?”  Kennedy asks, once she and Misty-- and Harry-- are alone in the kitchen.  “Like, actually.”

“Yeah,” Misty insists.  “My buzz just wore off and like… I dunno.  I just want to sleep.”

“I get that,” Kennedy says, turning on the sink to wash out a glass.  “Well why don’t you go up to bed?  I’ll finish up in here.”

“I don’t want to leave it all to you--”

“I’m good! I’m just gonna do a couple more dishes and then head up to bed myself.  We can do the rest tomorrow.”

Misty hesitates, glancing from Kennedy to Harry before sighing, smiling a little relieved smile.  “You’re the fucking best, Ken.”

Kennedy grins.  “Duh.  Go get some sleep.”

Misty throws her arms around Kennedy from behind, giving her a big squeeze and pressing the most obnoxious kiss to her cheek before bidding her goodnight.  She still seems upset-- something is still very clearly on her mind, but she seems a bit relieved that she’s finally able to leave.  

As she pulls away, she shoots Harry a questioning glance, as if asking him to come with her.  He nods, holding up his finger to indicate that he’ll be right there.  Misty smiles, nodding her head before disappearing out of the kitchen.

Harry turns back to Kennedy, making his way slowly towards her.  He reaches forward, hesitating before giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze.   He’s thanking her, in the only way he knows how to without revealing himself, and much to his relief, Kennedy only jumps slightly before giggling.

“I knew you were here,” she says softly.  “Whoever you are.  And I know you care about our girl, too.  Don’t worry, I’ve got her.”

Harry smiles to himself, wishing he could verbally thank her.  But just her knowing about his existence-- and being okay with it, at that-- means more to him than he can explain.  So without any more delay, he disappears from the kitchen and makes his way to Misty.

He finds Misty in her room, waiting in the doorway, and she smiles when she sees him.  He makes his way quickly into her room and she closes the door behind him, her face immediately dropping the moment it’s closed.  Harry waits for her to speak, but she doesn’t-- she only busies herself with retrieving the items she needs in order to get ready for bed.

“Are you alright?”  Harry finally asks, voice gentle.  He doesn’t know if he should step closer, touch her, hug her, or just stay away, so he stands awkwardly off to the side.

“I’m alright,” Misty says, most unconvincingly.  

“You sure?”  This time he does take a step towards her.  “I don’t think--”

“It’s nothing,” Misty insists.  “Seriously. He’s a creep.”

‘You shouldn’t have to deal with him,” Harry says.  “Does he treat you like that often?”

Misty pauses, then sighs, nodding her head slowly. “And everyone kinda just… lets him get away with it because….” she scoffs cynically, “He’s Josh.”

“Fuck Josh.  Where does he get off?”

Misty shrugs, opening a drawer and rummaging through it in search of a t-shirt.  “It’s just who he is.  I don’t know.”

“Well I mean…”  Harry isn’t sure how to word his next question.  “What makes him think that he can mess with you like that?”

“It’s literally nothing,” Misty says, exasperated.  She pauses, considering her words before turning to face Harry.  She opens her mouth, then closes it, and then finally decides to speak.

“You really want to know what happened?”

“If you don’t mind,” Harry says.

Misty sighs again, removing her little devil horn headband.  “We were drunk at a Kappa party my freshman year.  We kissed a little.  I was… stupid.  He kept pouring me drinks, and I just… kept taking them.  And….”

Harry waits for a moment, before gently pressing her a bit more.  “And?”

“And stuff happened.  We didn’t like, have sex or anything. I know that for a fact.  But he…”  She trails off, lost in thought, before continuing. “I don’t remember a whole lot of it.”

Harry is furious, and he wants more than anything to go find Josh and kick his ass.  But he knows that isn’t what Misty wants-- and definitely not what she needs right now.  So he stays put, offering her a sympathetic sigh.  “Oh, Misty.”

“It’s okay,” she offers. “I remember he made me a drink that was particularly strong. We went up to his room and then… next thing I remember I was throwing up in the yard.” Misty laughs bitterly. “My big was the one that found me. With him, I mean. That’s how I know we didn’t have sex. But she saw what we were doing and I—“ Misty trails off, shaking her head. “I don’t remember it at all.”

Harry swallows heavily as he takes in her words, scanning her face. The way Misty is looking at him right now, with her big soft eyes and genuine smile, he’s feeling guilty for even bringing it up.

“So. That’s what happened.”  Misty shrugs.  “I wish it didn’t, but it did.  And that’s it.”

Harry runs a hand through his hair, feeling for the first time just how cold he really is.  The only thing Harry can settle on in this moment is a sigh, and so he lets all of his anxieties out in a big puff of air that actually, admittedly, does make him feel better.  As soon as he’s pushed all the air out of his lungs, his guilt increases, and he meets Misty’s eyes.

“Misty,” he says softly,  “Sunshine.  I’m so sorry.”

Harry reaches for Misty, nervous that he’s pressured her to talk about something so personal. She does lean into his touch-- thank God-- and she lets out the deepest sigh she feels she’s ever let out in her life.

“Harry….I don’t know how to navigate a situation like this,” Misty admits, voice hardly above a whisper.  “I only want to make you happy.”

“Darling, you do make me happy. I can’t believe he would ever—“

“It’s not about him,” Misty says. “I’m okay. I’m talking about you. I don’t know how to navigate… this.”

Harry pauses, realizing that she’s talking about the blatant chemistry between the two of them. “Well, I—“

“You’re just…. such a wonderful guy. And I wish—“ she trails off, as if second guessing her words, before starting her next thought. “All I know is that you’re someone I just… want around. All the time.”

“I want to stay around,” Harry says gently.  “I wish I could stay around longer.”

“Me too.”  Misty smiles sadly up at him.  “Our situation is unique.”

“Unique,” Harry repeats.  “That’s a nice way of saying ‘weird as hell.’”

Now Misty giggles.   “But I like it,” she tacks on quietly.  “I like…”  She trails off, closing her mouth as if the rest of that sentence hangs heavy on her tongue.

“I know,” Harry offers.  “I do, too.”

They stay like this for a moment, before Misty sighs.  “I have to get ready for bed now.  So--”

“I’ll go!” Harry says quickly.  “I’ll let you get to sleep and--”

“No, wait!” Misty holds up her hand.  “I’ll be right back.  I’m gonna change and stuff in the bathroom.  But then I’ll come back so we can… say goodnight.”

Harry wonders what exactly she means by that, but he doesn’t even allow himself to question her.  He smiles.  “Alright.  I’ll be here.”

Misty looks almost relieved.  “Alright.”

Misty disappears into the hallway, leaving Harry behind with the silence and his own thoughts. He knows Misty is still a bit buzzed, sure, but her words were pointed.  He tries not to overthink what she could have potentially meant by ‘say goodnight.’

He sighs, walking around her room and trying to distract himself from the nervous feeling in the pit of his stomach.  He looks at the pictures in the frames along her dresser, the unfinished homework lying on her desk, the paddle made by her “big” hanging on the wall.  All these pieces of Misty’s life make him smile, but what really gets him is the framed picture on her bedside table.

It’s a picture of her family, taken from when Misty couldn’t have been more than fifteen years old. She’s smiling the biggest smile Harry thinks he’s ever seen, and she’s the spitting image of her beautiful mother, who stands behind her, laughing.  

Beside her mother stands her father, a tall, broad man with some wrinkles around his eyes and graying sideburns.  He looks like the kind of guy that Harry would love to chat with, sharing a whiskey neat or two while giving each other shit.  He seems pleasant, and he seems like a wonderful man just from this picture alone.

Surrounding Misty are her siblings: an older brother, and a younger sister and brother.  Harry wants more than anything to be able to meet them.  To have to earn the respect of Misty’s older brother, to spoil her younger siblings and make them love him.  He wants to be close to the whole family, really.  He wants to be the boyfriend that Misty brings home one year for spring break.  The boyfriend who brings a new plant for her mother, who watches football with her father and impresses them with his knowledge of American traditions, despite being british.

Harry wishes, more than anything in the world, that he was still alive.

He doesn’t realize how long he’s been staring at the picture until he’s startled by Misty’s presence as she enters her room once again.  He jumps a bit, and Misty giggles.

“Hi,” she says.  “Sorry.  Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Hi. Ghosts don’t get scared.”

“Debatable,” Misty says.  Harry gets a good look at her, and he’s completely enamored. He’s just watched her transform from a sexy demon, with dark makeup and long lashes and the plumpest red lips he’s ever seen-- to the most adorable person he thinks he’s ever laid his eyes upon.

Her makeup-less face reveals a few zits on her cheek, her lips look chapped, and she’s dressed only in a long t-shirt and shorts.  She discards her costume into her hamper without a second thought, completely unaware of the way Harry is watching her.

“You look cute,” he says, as she pulls back her comforter.

“Shut up,”  she says, rolling her eyes as she crawls into bed.  “Ew.”

Harry snorts.  “I’m serious.  You’re so pretty.”

“Well,” she says, plumping up the pillows behind her.  “You’re so nice, but I’m going to have to respectfully tell you that I think you’re lying.”

“Well,” Harry mocks, “agree to disagree then.”

Misty relaxes against her pillows, rubbing sleepily and adorably at her eyes for a few moments.

“Thanks for being so wonderful to me,” she says after a bit, pulling the covers up tighter around her hips.  “Like, all night I mean.  You didn’t have to do that.”

“Don’t be silly,” Harry says.  “I care about you.  I had fun.”

“Me too.  I just…” she sighs, and Harry takes a step towards her.

“What, love?”

“I just wish you could’ve actually like… had a good time.  Like, drank and hung out with us and stuff.  I wish I wasn’t the only one who could see you all night.”

“You don’t like havin’ me all to yourself then?”  Harry fake pouts.  

Misty rolls her eyes, but she smiles anyway. “It is nice to have my own personal ghost, but I just… wish you weren’t one.”

Harry smiles sadly.  “Me too,” he says.  “But I like watching over you.  Like your own personal guardian angel or summat.”

Misty giggles.  “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Feelin’ okay?” Harry asks, trying to change the subject. “Need more water or anything?”

“No,” Misty says. “Think I just need to sleep off the rest of this buzz.”

“Yeah,” Harry agrees.  “Sometimes that’s best.”

“Yeah.”  There is a weird sort of tension fizzling in the air between them, as if Misty has something else she wants to say.

Harry waits patiently, watching as she avoids his gaze. She seems deep in thought and on the verge of asking something, but when she doesn’t Harry realizes that maybe he’s the one being awkward. Maybe she wants him to leave now and she’s too polite to tell him so.

So Harry clears his throat. “Alright. Well. Goodnight, bug.” He nods in finality.  After a few more seconds, he takes a step back before vanishing right in front of Misty’s eyes.  He’s about to actually leave, and he figures he can go inspect the house.  Maybe see what damage has been done, and try to discreetly clean up a bit in order to help speed up the process tomorrow for what he knows is going to be a very hungover group of girls. But something catches his attention that he absolutely cannot ignore.

“Wait, don’t go!”

Misty’s voice sounds so pitiful that Harry can’t even pretend like he’s not going to come back.  He manifests immediately in the corner of her room and he coos at her.  “What is it, sunshine?”

“Can you sleep with me?”

She seems so embarrassed to be asking, it makes even Harry’s cheeks flush.  “You want me to… get in bed with you?”

Misty nods, eyes bigger than Harry’s ever seen.  “Yeah,” she mumbles.  “Can you?”

Harry doesn’t remember the last time he spent a night in a bed-- much less with a beautiful girl-- but the thought of doing it tonight excites him.  He doesn’t want to come across as too eager, of course, but he can’t help but feel touched by her request, and he all but runs to her side.

As he makes his way towards the bed, he speaks.  “I might be a little bit cold,” he offers.  He looms over her, reaching down to brush a bit of her messy hair off of her forehead.

“S’okay,” Misty sighs, “I have lots of blankets.  Just wanna cuddle.  Is that okay?”

Harry smiles at how cute she looks, bundled up and sleepy in her bed.  He chuckles softly, reaching to tug gently at her covers to pull them back for himself.  “Yeah,” he says,  “That’s okay.  I can do that.”

As Harry settles himself in bed, he tries not to beat himself up too hard for the slight shiver in her body.  She obviously doesn’t seem to mind as she cuddles up close to him instantly.  The feeling of her warmth is almost too much for Harry to handle-- similar to the feeling of getting into a hot tub too quickly-- but he doesn’t mind.  It feels so good, and if he closes his eyes he can pretend, just for a moment, that he’s human, too.

“Can ghosts sleep?” Misty asks abruptly, tearing Harry from his fantasy and reminding him of his actual form.

Harry chuckles. “Yeah, we can sleep,” he says.  “It’s not exactly the same as how you sleep, though.”

“What’s it like then?”

Harry thinks for a moment, choosing his words carefully to explain this in a way that it makes sense.  “You know how I mentioned I can visit dreams?  When I’m… gone.”

“Yeah?”

“So if I go to sleep while I’m here, I’ll just go there.  To the dreamscape.  Where I can visit anybody’s dreams that I want. That’s usually how I visit my mum or say, a friend.”  Harry chuckles.  “Or someone who wronged me in the past.  So I can haunt their ass.”

“But you’ll still be here when I wake up right?”  She sounds so sleepy, almost needy, and it makes Harry hold her that much tighter.

“If you want me to be,” he answers.

“I do,” she says softly.  There is a beat of silence before she’s changing the subject again. “Tell me what it’s like.”

“What?”

“The dream stuff.  Like how do you just… do that?”

“Mmm. It’s like… how can I explain…”   Harry thinks carefully once again.  “I’m in a black… room?  Sort of.  Like where I go when I’m gone.  And there are a ton of doors, right?  In this room I mean.  And I can enter any one of them that I’d like, at any time. Anywhere in the world.”

“You can enter anybody’s dream?”

“Mhm.”

“At any time?”

“At any time.”

“Woooooow.”  Misty’s sleepy exclamation tickles softly against his neck.  “That’s so cool.”

“It is yeah,” Harry says, smiling to himself.  

“Can you come into my dream tonight?”

“If you want me to, yeah.”

“Can you make me dream about you?”

“Well,” Harry says, tracing a circle into Misty’s spine.  “Yes and no.  Whatever you’re dreaming about, I can enter it if I want to.  But I won’t know what you’re dreaming about until I’m in there.”

“Oh,” Misty says through a yawn.  “Ew.”

Harry snorts. “Why ‘ew?’”

“Because what if I’m dreaming something embarrassing?”  

“Then I can embarrass you about it forever,” Harry says.  “How fun!”

Misty pulls Harry closer, burying her face deep into his neck.  He can feel her visible frown, and it makes him smile.  “Don’t pout,” he coos, scratching at her back.

“Don’t tease meeee,” she whines, but the way she says it sounds like she has another thought to add on.

Misty hesitates, and Harry gives her time to think about what she’s going to say.  She arches her back the teeniest bit, leaning into a particularly good scratch, and it makes Harry smile. Finally, she finishes her thought.

“I actually did have a dream about you the other night,” she says,  “although now I’m guessing you already knew that.”

Harry nods.  He did know that, because it was his doing. Nothing out of the ordinary had happened; if anything it had just been pretty mundane-- similar to every day he’s spent with her in real life.  But it felt more real, more permanent, more tangible.  Harry had been careful, of course, not to be too obvious with it-- he didn’t interfere with the natural plot line of her dream as much as he normally would if it were a real visit.  He had just wanted to spend more time with her, and it had been lovely.

“Was it weird?” He asks, although he already knows the answer.

“It wasn’t weird,” Misty says.  “You were just kinda… there.  But I…” he feels her body tense up, and she curls herself even further into his side, as if hiding herself.  “I wanted to kiss you so bad.”

Harry feels his breath hitch in his throat, and his fingertips cease their movements along her spine.  “Yeah?” he chokes out.

“Yeah,” she whispers back.  “Is that weird?”

“It’s not weird, sunshine,” Harry whispers.  “I wanted to--”  He trails off now, letting the rest of his sentence fizzle out in a sigh.  “It’s not weird,” he repeats.

“I’m falling asleep,” Misty announces through the softest yawn Harry thinks he’s ever heard.  “It’s not weird right?  Like, things between us aren’t weird just cause I got drunk and kinda… confessed some shit?”

“Confessed what?”  Harry says.  “You’ve told me nothing.”

Misty giggles  “You’re a good man, Harry.”

“I’m not a man,” Harry teases.  “I’m a ghost.”

“Can you not be annoying for like, one whole second?”

It’s Harry’s turn to giggle now. “Alright, I’m sorry. I’ll chill.”

Misty yawns again, and the feeling of her breath against his neck makes him shiver.  He smiles, snuggling his cheek against the top of her head. “Well,” he says.  “Goodnight, sunshine.”

“Goodnight, Harry,” she mumbles.  Without thinking, she presses the softest little peck against his neck that almost goes unnoticed by him. It makes him freeze, letting out the rest of the air in his lungs in a little sigh. He doesn’t know if he should kiss her back or not, but she doesn’t seem to mind either way.  So he lets it slide.

But he spends the entire night replaying the feeling of her lips against his neck over and over and over again.

------

Misty sighs as she reaches into the fridge for a bottle of water.  Somehow she’s been roped into a conversation that she wants no part of; gossip between Lindsey and Rosie about Lindsey’s boyfriend who’s been openly cheating on her for weeks. Perhaps she had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time, but somehow Misty has found herself listening to the girls chat away, one feeling sorry for herself, and the other kissing her ass.

When Misty closes the door, she jumps when she sees Harry, who has manifested right in front of her.  She lets out a frustrated sigh through her nose, and Harry grins cheekily at her, raising his eyebrows and daring her to speak.

“What’s wrong, Misty?” Rosie asks, and Misty realizes her little scare hadn’t gone unnoticed.

Misty glances between Harry and the two girls, who stare expectantly back at her.  “Uh,” she says,  “Nothing.  I… thought I saw something.  Sorry.”

“Is it that fucking ghost again?” Rosie’s face grows pale at her own words. “I swear to God if that fucker is back I--”

“No,” Misty says, cutting her off.  “He-- it-- isn’t back. Continue with your story.”

Lindsey launches right back into it, hardly giving Misty’s words a second thought. “Anyway, Brad was like, totally flirting with me that night right?”

“He totally was,” Rosie replies.

“Thank you! I thought he was, and Jade thought he was, but then now he’s back with Jessie again and--”

“God who cares about any of this?” Harry’s voice drawls in Misty’s ear. “She’s been going on and on about this for ages.”

Misty sighs softly so that only Harry can hear her.  She knows she can’t verbally respond to him, but he hears her response and smirks. It’s then the idea pops into his head.

“Whatever you do, don’t smile,” Harry says, voice low and teasing in Misty’s ear-- a surefire way to make her smile.  

The corners of Misty’s lips twinge and she visibly gulps, and Harry knows he’s got her.

“I said don’t smile,” Harry, sing-songs, inching closer to Misty’s ear and trying his hardest to get her to break.  “You’ll look like a crazy person.  Can you imagine?  Lindsey’s pouring her heart out, and you can’t stop smiling?  What will they think?”

Misty clears her throat a bit more aggressively than normal as a desperate plea to get Harry to shut the hell up.

“No,” he replies, with a cheeky grin, knowing exactly what her noise meant.  “I’m not going to stop.”  

Misty holds her breath as an attempt to hold her composure as Harry continues.  “Imagine if Lindsey’s water like, came out of her nose right now. Wouldn’t that be crazy?”

Harry notices the way Misty runs her tongue over her teeth, setting her jaw firmly so as not to slip up again.  And honestly, he’s impressed.  He presses her further.  “Did you know I could make that happen?”

This time Misty’s breath hitches, and she eyes Harry threateningly out of the corner of her eyes.  “I really can,” he says. “I can snap my fingers and she’ll be like a faucet.  A free flowing spirit.”

Harry thinks he’s almost got her, her lips twitch up again and she raises her water bottle to her lips to cover it up.  Harry snorts.

“Nah, I’m fucking with you,”  he says,  “you think I could really do that?  Who do you think I am, fuckin Harry Potter?”

Misty rolls her eyes without giving it a second thought, which luckily goes unnoticed by her sisters-- but not unnoticed by Harry.  He raises his eyebrows.

“Ope! Careful there.  Going to give yourself away, eh?”

When Misty stares blankly ahead, Harry laughs.

“Wow,” he says, “so you’re really not gonna smile, are you?  You’re good at this.”

His tone makes Misty think he’s giving up, and she gives a subtle smirk of satisfaction in his direction.  

But Harry is nothing if he isn’t persistent.  And he is not going to give up that easily.

It’s when Misty raises her arm to run a hand through her hair that Harry gets his idea.  He doesn’t even allow himself time to think about it before he’s setting his plan into action.  Before he knows it, he’s going right for Misty’s ribs.  

Harry digs his hands into Misty’s lower ribs, squeezing a few times, and Misty folds instantly into his arms.  She lets out a surprised shriek mixed with an almost honking laugh, and both Lindsey and Rosie stop the conversation immediately to shoot her a puzzled look.

It’s all too good, and Harry is so utterly pleased with himself right now.  He’d be lying if he said this kind of power didn’t go to his head, especially when Misty immediately realizes that she’s got to stop giggling.  Harry doesn’t let up on her ribs, lowering a hand to pinch softly at her side, and Misty tries desperately to cover up her remaining giggles with a cough.

Harry would also be lying if he said that seeing her laugh like this didn’t turn him on.  But that is neither here nor there.

After a few more seconds of tickling her and watching her desperately try to contain her giggles and cover them up with the fakest coughs Harry’s ever heard, he decides to show the poor girl some mercy.  He removes his hands from her torso, and it takes her a few seconds to realize she’s free.

The silence that follows is charged with awkwardness, and Harry almost feels a bit bad.  Misty, whose face is visibly hot, reaches for her water bottle on the counter and takes several long sips from it.

“You alright?” Rosie asks, slowly raising an eyebrow.

Misty gulps down one more sip and gestures vaguely at her throat.  “Yeah, sorry I just--”

“Have a tickle in your throat?”

Harry beams, voice low in Misty’s ear.  “Something like that,” he says.

Misty closes her eyes and lets out a long sigh, as if she’s just heard the worst joke of her life.  Harry snorts.  “I know,” he says.  “That was a good one, wasn’t it?”

“Linds, I’m so sorry to interrupt,” Misty says,  “But I have this huge paper due in a couple of hours and I’m super behind so--”

“Oh is it that stupid paper for english?” Lindsey nods sympathetically.  “I worked on it like, all night last night.”

“Yeah,” Misty lies,  “I have to work on it.  I promise in a few hours I’ll be right back down to--”

“No worries, baby, do your thing!” Lindsey says, shooing Misty with her hand. “I get it.  You’re good.”

“Thanks.”  Misty begins making her way out of the kitchen without even sparing so much as a glance in Harry’s direction. “I want to hear all about it later though.”

Misty storms up the stairs with Harry close on her heels. He is giggling the entire way, but Misty doesn’t even smile.  It’s about halfway up the stairs that Harry begins to get a bit nervous.

“You have to admit that was good,” he says through his laughter, obviously trying to lighten the mood.  “Come on.”

Misty ignores him, continuing her path to her room.  When she arrives, she doesn’t even check to see that Harry is behind her.  She closes the door a bit harder than she intends, and Harry effortlessly glides through it.  The silence that follows is absolutely deafening.

She turns, agonizingly slowly to face him, and the look on her face is unreadable.  Harry isn’t sure if the smirk on his own face is appropriate or not, so he tries his best to suppress it while he waits for her to say something.  When she doesn’t, his lips twitch.

“I take it you’re angry,” he tries.

“How could you do that?!” Misty hisses, the sort of whisper that’s stupidly loud.  He knows she isn’t angry, not fully, but he almost worries he took things a step too far.

“Sunshine, I’m sorry, I didn’t--”

“Made me look like a fucking idiot.” Misty runs her hands through her hair and shakes her head at him.  “And for what?  So you could get a laugh?”

Harry tries desperately not to smirk, but the corners of his lips turn up ever so slightly-- giving him away. “Yeah.”

Misty stops, not exactly expecting that answer.  She pauses for a moment before sighing through her nose and closing her mouth.  “Ridiculous,” she mumbles, before brushing past Harry to rummage through her closet.

“I really think you should lighten up,” Harry says, walking over and plopping himself on her bed.  “Wasn’t meant to be a personal attack.”

“Lighten up?!” Misty says, whirling around on her heels.  She hesitates, realizing that she’s raised her voice a tick too loud.  She takes a step towards Harry, lowering her voice significantly before speaking.  “You think I need to lighten up?  Harry, you--”

“I didn’t mean to ruin your bloody day, Misty, Christ.  I was just trying to make you laugh.”

“Well don’t.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

There’s an intense pause between them, and Harry doesn’t shy away from Misty’s intimidating stare.  In fact, there is hardly any emotion on his face at all, and Misty can’t tell whether it infuriates her or turns her on. She can feel the blood rushing to her cheeks growing hotter by the second, and she lets out a flustered sigh.

“You seem like you have something else to say,” Harry states calmly.

It’s so unfair, Misty thinks.  It really fucking is.  She scrambles to find words to express how she’s feeling, but her brain is cloudy with the thought of how goddamn attractive he is. When she really thinks about it, she isn’t angry at all, really.  The thought of Harry being able to do whatever he wants to her- whenever he wants- in front of people both embarrasses her and makes her excited.  

Truth be told, she’s never been more excited in her entire life.

Harry raises his eyebrows expectantly.  “Well?”

“I don’t have anything else to say,” Misty says quietly.

“Are you sure?”  Harry asks, rising to his feet and taking a cautious step towards her.

Misty lets out a frustrated breath, reaching up to push her hair off of her face.  “Yes, I’m sure! Will you stop doing that?”

Harry scoffs, mockingly.  “Stop doing what, Misty?  Trying to call you out on what we both know is true?”

“No!” Misty’s voice is dangerously loud, and she catches herself again before she can get any louder.  She rolls her eyes at herself before continuing at a much softer pace.  “Stop… looking at me like that.”

And oh, now Harry understands.

Harry shakes his head.  “I’m not looking at you like anything.”

“Yes you are!” she insists, closing the space between them just the tiniest bit more.  “You’re always looking at me like… like that!”  She gestures indistinctly.

Harry licks his lips, eyebrow subconsciously raising challengingly.  “I’m going to need you to be more specific, Misty.”

“You know what I’m talking about.”

“Sunshine,” he drawls, voice thick as honey,  “all I ever want is to make you happy.  That’s a promise.”

Misty swallows, nostrils flaring as she tries to get her breath under control. “Harry, I…”  She trails off, because truth be told she doesn’t know where she was even going with this thought.

“What?” he asks, taking another step towards her.  “Tell me.”

After a beat of intense silence Misty groans.  “I don’t know! You’re so annoying and you’re so perfect and you make me so happy and I just--”

“What?” Harry says, inching closer.  “You just what?”

Misty lowers her voice, eyes thick with sadness.  “I just… don’t want to be feeling this way about you.  I can’t.  But you make it impossible to not.”

“To not what?”

“Fall for you.”  Misty sighs.  “I’m trying so hard not to because… well, you’re not actually here  are you?”

“Can you see me?”  Harry asks, matter-of-factly.

“Well, yes, but--”

“I’m here.”  Harry reaches forward, lightly caressing Misty’s arm.  “I’m right here Misty.”

Misty glances down to his hand, then back up at him.  “Harry, I don’t know what I’m feeling.”

He pulls away, not wanting to pressure her into feeling any type of way at all. “What do you mean?”

“I mean-- God.”  She lets out all of her air and shakes her head, almost cynically.  “Harry I… really, really like you.”

If Harry had blood running through his veins, it would run cold at her words.  “You do?”

“Have I not made it obvious?”  Misty scoffs.  “Fuck, dude, you’re so perfect.”

“I’m not,” Harry says in a breath.  He steps forward.  “Misty, I’m not.”

“You are,” she insists.  “I want you so bad, Harry.  And I’m scared.”

Harry processes her words slowly, and he knows he shouldn’t say what he’s about to say. But he does it anyway.

“I’m scared, too,” he admits softly, feeling more human than he’s felt in a long time.

“I’m scared that I’m going to really fall for you,” Misty continues, “because I know you’re just going to have to leave in the end. And I’m going to be sad, and I’m going to miss you, and—“

“Well then why don’t we just pretend?” Harry tries. “We’ve still got a few more weeks, haven’t we?”

“Yes, but the thought of you leaving won’t go away, Harry! It’s all I can think about. Every time I feel something for you I’m reminded of our situation and how you’ll never actually be mine.”

“I hate it,” Harry agrees, his own voice matching hers in volume now. “I absolutely hate it, but Misty, we can’t let that thought hang over the time we have left like a raincloud.”

“But--”

“You make me feel alive again, Misty!” Harry doesn’t mean to cut her off, but he can’t help it.  “I know that’s forward, and we haven’t known each other for all that long, but it’s true.”

Misty looks like she wants to cry, and her eyes feel thick and heavy.  She wills herself not to break, taking a moment to regain her composure before speaking.  “Harry, I don’t know what to do,” she whispers.  “I don’t… we can’t--”

Harry leans in, taking Misty’s chin in between his thumb and forefinger.  He tilts her head up softly, effectively quieting her, and she realizes her lips are still parted. Harry can feel her breath, and it feels far too intimate to be real.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, voice tender and quiet.

Misty blinks up at him. “God,” she breathes, “I’ve been waiting for you to ask me that.”

Harry smiles, leaning in gently and fastening their lips together slowly.  He takes her top lip between his own, and he can feel her instantly relax against him. She smiles faintly into the kiss as well, but makes no movement to pull him closer— as if she’s still a bit unsure.  He kisses her again, then pulls away, scanning her face for any sign of discomfort.

“How do you feel?” He asks after a moment.

“Like I want to do that for the rest of my life.”  Misty reaches up to cup Harry’s face and bring him in for another kiss.  

Harry, of course, happily complies to her nonverbal request, snaking his hands around her waist and holding her gently to him.  He timidly peeks his tongue out, gliding along her lip as if asking for permission, and she willingly submits— opening her mouth for him to lick into.

Misty giggles into his mouth the minute their tongues interact, and it makes Harry pull away. “What?”

“You taste good,” she says. “You taste…. sweet. I don’t know. I love it.”

“Oh.” He grins, pulling her back into him to pick up immediately where they left off.

It’s beautiful, and Harry feels happier than he’s felt in a long time now that he’s finally kissing her. He licks into her mouth softly, trying to convey all the words he isn’t yet brave enough to say.

“Harry.”  Misty pulls away, smiling up at him.  She’s so happy that it feels like everything her eyes land on is glowing. “God, I can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted to do this.”

“Why didn’t you do it then?  I wanted it, too!”

“Well why didn’t you?!”

Harry grins.  “Wanted to see how long until you gave in, I suppose.”  When Misty rolls her eyes, Harry chuckles.  “Alright I’m kidding.  I guess I was just… scared.”

“Me too,” Misty admits.  “I mean… feelings are scary one way or another, but then when you add our situation in there its…”

“Weird as fuck,” Harry says, nodding.  “Yeah.  I hate it.”  He smiles, cupping the back of her neck and bumping his nose tenderly against hers.  “But I don’t fully. I’m very happy that I have you, sweet girl.”

Misty smiles, leaning gently into his touch.  “Kiss me again,” she asks,  “Please.”

Harry grins, pulling her close to him and pressing his lips gently to her forehead.  “With pleasure.”

They continue like this for a while, giggly and unsure and so, so happy.  It is weird, as they both admitted, but it’s so incredibly wonderful and fills both of their hearts with a warmth that neither of them have felt for a while.  And as Harry continues to kiss against Misty’s smile, he forgets his situation— if only for a moment— to revel in the fact that he’s kissing the most beautiful girl he’s ever known.

He doesn’t think his entire existence could ever get better than it is right now.

------

Later that night, Misty sits cross legged on her bed, fresh from a shower and rubbing lotion into her arms while Harry explores her vinyl collection.  She’s wearing the cutest t-shirt and pajama shorts combo Harry thinks he’s ever seen, and it’s driving him crazy.  Things are definitely not awkward between them by any means, but the whole situation feels silly and exciting, like two middle schoolers who just admitted they had a mutual crush on one another.

Misty nods towards the Fleetwood Mac record Harry currently holds in his hands.  “I found that one at a garage sale,” she says.  “Luckiest find of my life.”

“No kidding.”  Harry turns, smiling at her.  He holds the record up.  “Do you like Fleetwood Mac?”

“Nah, just thought the vinyl looked cool.  I don’t even know any songs by them.”

Harry halts all movement, eyeing Misty to figure out if she means what she’s saying.  She’s got him for a moment, her expression remains completely unbothered as she rubs her vanilla lotion into her arms.   But then she giggles, face twisting up like she can’t believe Harry would even ask her that.  “What the fuck kind of question is that, Harry?  Hello?  Why else would I have that?”

Harry snorts.  “You know what?  I’ve had enough of your sarcasm.”

“My sarcasm?” Misty says.  “You’re one to talk!”

“Me? I’m a dream!”  Harry returns the record to it’s rightful spot and makes his way over to the bed.  “You on the other hand--”

Harry reaches for a pillow to whack Misty with, but Misty is quicker.  She grabs the other pillow on her bed and shields his attack, squealing as he continues his fight on her regardless.  He eventually tosses the pillow aside, going for what he knows will absolutely get her to cave and digging his fingers into her sides.

Misty squeals, instantly bucking into his touch as he squeezes at her.  “Wait, no! Fucker!  This is cheating!”

“Careful!” Harry taunts, fingers wiggling up to her ribs. “No one else knows I’m here! Would be awful embarrassing if they heard you talking and giggling to yourself, wouldn’t it?”

“Well then fucking stooooop!” Misty whines, wriggling under his grasp.  “Why are you making me--” She is cut off by her own cackle before she continues-- “Do this?!”

“Because I can.”  Harry beams down at her, leaning down to press a kiss to her nose.  “Because it’s cute and you like it.”

“I don’t like it!” Misty practically howls.  “You’re annoying!”

“Oh,” Harry says, ceasing the movement of his fingers.  “I’m annoying?”

“YES!” Misty whines, pouting up at him.

He smiles, leaning closer into her face and enjoying the heat radiating off of her cheeks.  “Do you really not like it?”

Misty pants, catching her breath and smiling up at Harry.  “No,” she admits after a beat.

Harry squirms so he’s fully on top of her now. “‘No’ you don’t like it? Or ‘no’ as in you do like it and don’t want me to stop?”

Misty reaches up to cover her face as much as Harry’s body pinning her will allow.  “‘No’ as in… don’t stop.”

Harry grins, pressing a kiss to Misty’s nose.  “I figured.”

Harry trails his lips lightly along Misty’s cheeks leading up to her mouth, pressing smiley kisses to the soft skin and loving the way he can feel her smile beneath him.  “Pretty girl,’ he mutters.  “You’re the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”

When he finally fastens his lips to hers, Misty sighs.  She opens her mouth willingly, allowing him to lick his way in, and she delights in the sweet taste of his tongue against hers.  She allows her hand to trail up Harry’s icy neck, tangling her fingers in his hair before she tilts her head away slightly to speak.

“You know,” she muses,  “You could be awful mean to me if you wanted to be.”

Harry quirks an eyebrow, cocking his head to the side teasingly.  “Do you want me to be mean to you?”

Misty only sighs. “If you have to ask--”  She trails off, fingertips lightly toying with the hem of Harry’s shirt.  There’s a moment of tense silence in which she bats her eyes up at him innocently, and that’s all the starting gun he needs.

“Ohh, sweetheart,” Harry coos.  “You’re going to have to be more convincing than that.”

Misty groans, her facade crumbling away little by little.  “I cannnn’t,” she whines, hiding her face in her hands.  Harry can see her smile between her hands however, and it eggs him on.

“You can,” he says, voice almost mockingly sweet. He rises to sit on his knees. “Know you can.  You just won’t.”  

Harry reaches up, trying to gently coax her hands from her face as best he can. “You know why you won’t?”

Misty peeks through her fingers, shaking her head but not verbally answering Harry.  He flashes her his cheekiest dimpled grin.  “Because you want me to make you say it. Am I right?”

Misty giggles as Harry successfully lowers her hands.   “You can’t make me say it,” she says teasingly.

Harry shrugs, placing his hand on Misty’s calf and squeezing lightly.  “It’s true.  I can’t. Can’t make you do anything you don’t want to, baby.”  He walks his fingers up her leg, tauntingly tracing his pointer finger around her kneecap and making her shiver.  “But darling, this cute little act of yours is only going to get you so far.

“It’s gotten me far enough, hasn’t it?” Misty licks her lips subconsciously, reaching forward to scratch behind Harry’s ear.  “Obviously things have gone my way.”

“Have they?” Harry says, cocking his head.  “I haven’t given in yet, have I?”

“How much longer until you do?” Misty asks, giggling nervously.

Harry shakes his head, leaning in to press a kiss to the side of Misty’s chin.  “Dunno,” he says.  “Wanna see how long you’re going to act like this for.”

Harry presses a few more rapid kisses directly to Misty’s chin before trailing them up to the fleshiest parts of her cheeks.  After a few kisses there, he pulls away.

“Your cheeks are so hot, sunshine,” Harry muses, reaching up and tracing a knuckle along the tender skin.  “Why?”

“Hot in here,” Misty breathes, voice so low that Harry can barely even make out what she’s saying.  

Harry’s honey drip of a voice sends shivers down Misty’s spine when he speaks.  “No,” he says with a grin.  “That’s not it.”  

With his other hand, Harry trails his fingertips down the sensitive skin of her arm, making her squirm a bit.  “Know what I think it is?”  His fingers squeeze delicately over her hips before resting on her exposed thigh-- where he gives her a soft scratch.  “I think somebody is embarrassed about how badly she wants me to be mean to her.”

Harry leans in, pressing an icy kiss to her neck that makes her instinctively tremble.  A breathy moan floats past her lips as Harry ghosts his own along her collarbone.  He takes his time with this, really inhaling her scent and her warmth as he makes his way down her body.  His fingers trace delicately along the waistband of her pajama shorts, her stomach jolting a bit when he hits a sensitive spot on her hips.  Misty watches his face with parted lips, so completely enamoured by him and his touch that she’s rendered speechless.

Slowly, gently, Harry lowers his hand to the spot between her legs, feeling the damp heat against the soft fabric of her short pajama bottoms.  He grins, slowly adjusting to sit up on his knees once again.  He takes her in, her entire body, and allows himself to really savor this moment.  When his eyes fall on the beauty between her legs again, however, he stops.

“And you know what else I think?” Harry says, grinning over her as his fingers tease her waistband once again.  “I think you like being embarrassed like this.  I think you like that I can do this to you, and we’re the only two who’ll ever know about it.  Hm?  Am I right?”

Misty gulps, goosebumps prickling her skin and lips glistening.  She nods.  “Yes,” she breathes.  “You’re exactly right.”

“I knew it,” Harry says, hooking his fingers into her waistband. “Filthy girl, aren’t you?”  He begins lowering the shorts from her hips, never breaking eye contact and smirking at how willingly she complies with his movements.  When he pulls the shorts past her feet he flings them carelessly to the floor, then glances down at the ever-growing wet spot on the fabric between her legs.  He grins up at her.  “Messy thing you are, too.  Look how wet you get just from some teasing.”

“Harry--” Misty breathes.

“Love it when you say my name like that, darling,” Harry purrs.  He leans forward to press a kiss directly to her bellybutton. The kiss is wet, and the sound of it mixed with Misty’s beautiful sighing is enough to make Harry melt.  He can’t help but to close his eyes and take a deep breath in, sighing when he’s met with her heavenly scent.  “Smell so fucking good,” he mumbles.  “Haven’t smelt anything like this in years.”

“Don’t--” Misty breathes,  “Don’t tease.”

“Ohh,” Harry tuts, tracing the spot where her inner thigh meets the fabric of her panties.  “Poor thing doesn’t want me to tease?”

He glances up at her from under his lashes, and the look on her face sends Harry over the moon.   Her eyes are wide and the smile on her slightly parted lips is so warm and inviting that Harry almost has a hard time keeping this up.

“Well, I find that hard to believe.”

He sinks his teeth into the waistband of her panties without any warning, and she gasps at the sudden sharpness mixed with the temperature of his mouth on her hips.

Misty lets out an unfiltered moan and immediately flings her hand up to her mouth to keep herself quiet.  She gives herself only a few moments to compose herself before whispering, “Harry, I… I need you--”

“Aww,” Harry coos, his teeth still hooked around her panties. He shakes his head a bit, curls falling in his face as he pulls the fabric away from Misty’s skin. “Needy,” he mutters, tugging a bit in an attempt to remove the panties.

When the lower half of Misty’s body is exposed to the chill of Harry’s skin, she shivers, and he delights in the movement for the first time since he’s met her.

“Know I’m cold,” he says quietly, teeth still clenched around her panties as he drags them down her leg.  “But it feels good, doesn’t it?”

Misty nods.  “M-hm…”  She’s eyeing him, and he’s moving slowly because he can tell she has something she wants to say.  He discards her panties onto the ground and tries not to outwardly show just how fucking delicious she looks right now.  He’s practically drooling at the sight of her, but she’s nervous, and he doesn’t want to push her too far.  So instead, he trails his nails slowly up her calf, looking only in her eye  and waiting patiently for her to speak.

“Nervous?” he asks.

“Well, no,” she says.  “But I…”  she trails off, squirming when his eyes land between her legs once again.

“What’s wrong?”

“I…” she starts, squirming a bit.  “I didn’t shave.”

Harry almost laughs at her when she says this. “Oh, darling. That’s what’s got you so nervous?”

She nods.  “Yeah.  I mean, I didn’t think… I don’t know.”

“Your pussy looks amazing,” Harry says, deciding to just bite the bullet and be as forward as he feels.  “Looks fucking delicious.  Smells delicious as well.  I certainly don’t mind a bit of hair.”

“You don’t?”  she asks, sitting up.

“Are you kidding?” He reaches forward, brushing against some of the hair with his finger.  “Fucking sexy as hell.  Don’t be silly.”

“I mean,” Misty says quickly, “I suppose it’s probably been, like, a minute since you’ve seen a pussy.  So I guess any pussy is gonna be fine.  I mean, not to assume your preferences, or anything, but you know--”

Harry leans forward, biting Misty’s thigh and making her yelp.  “Shh,”  he mumbles.  “Please.”

Misty giggles nervously. “Okay,” she says.

Harry leans down and kisses the spot he’s just nipped at, trailing his lips up her thigh and settling himself on his stomach. Being this close to her core ignites something in him that he hasn’t felt in years, and just the smell of her alone makes his mouth water.

With one hand Harry coaxes Misty’s leg up and over his shoulder, and now with a clearer view of her beautiful pussy he licks his lips.  

“You’re already so wet,” he observes. “Wanted it this badly, did you?”

“Want you,” she replies, squirming. “So bad.”

Harry takes his time with it, eyeing her body up and down before leaning in to press the most velvet soft kiss directly at her center  His scruff tickles her lightly, and she lets out a sigh.

Harry hums against her core before really diving into his work, peeking his tongue out from between his lips to lap delicately at her clit.  He watches her from under his long lashes, waiting for a reaction from her as he explores her with his tongue— wanting to find the best spot to really devour.

She watches him intently, as if in a daze, while he sucks at her, and it takes him a moment to realize she’s holding her breath. So he pops off of her clit gently, making her jolt, before reaching up to place a hand on her belly. “Breathe, baby.”

Perhaps Misty didn’t realize she was holding her breath, because she lets it all out in a puff. Her tummy immediately grows a bit and Harry loves it, loves seeing her fully relaxed for him like this.

“You okay?” He asks. “Genuinely.”

“I’m okay,” she says.

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

“Cross your heart?”

Misty snorts.  “I swear on my life, Harry, come onnnn.”

He giggles, “Alright alright.”  Without any further warning, he leans down and presses the softest kiss directly to her clit, resuming his work and licking against her.

The only noises in the room are Misty’s heavy breathing and soft sighing, mixed with the wet noises of Harry’s mouth-- and it all feels so filthy and intimate that it makes Harry lose himself in his work. He moans, even louder than she does, and it makes her back arch a bit off of the mattress.

“Harry--” she sighs.

Harry tilts his head, ghosting his lips against her thigh.  “Careful,” he says.  “I don’t have to be quiet. You do.”

Misty smiles to herself, enjoying the feeling of his tongue between her legs. The sensation of his temperature down there is something she’s never experienced before in her life, and it makes the entire experience all the more intoxicatingly wonderful.

“God you taste so fucking good,” Harry mumbles, pulling his head back only slightly and reaching up to rub at her clit. “Like fucking honey. Delicious.”  He lowers his fingers to collect her wetness, observing the stickiness coating the digits before raising his hand to her mouth.

He doesn’t even have to tell her to do anything, she’s already opening her mouth and sticking her tongue out. Harry rests his fingertips on her tongue, and she envelopes them with her lips, giving them a nice long suck that causes Harry to make a most obscene noise in the back of his throat.

The temporary distraction lights a fire in Harry’s soul, and he ducks down to bury his face in her pussy once more. She arches her back when he hits a particularly good spot, and she accidentally bites down gently on his fingers— which Harry is surprised to find that he loves the feeling of.

Harry hums against her, wiggling his fingers a bit as a silent request for her to loosen up.  She opens her mouth, unable to contain the moan that escapes her lips when she does so.  Harry envelops her clit with his lips and sucks harshly, and she squirms against him.

“Harry--” She breathes.  “It’s so… fuck-- you’re so good…”

“Quiet now,” Harry mumbles against the skin of her thigh.  “Unless you want them to know how filthy you are.”

“I don’t care,” Misty pants breathlessly.  “I’ll blame my vibrator, I don’t care,  I’ll--- oh fuuuuck.”  She’s cut off when Harry sinks his teeth into the flesh of her thigh, and even he moans at the sensation.

“Fucking shit,” he mumbles as he pulls away, admiring the dents that his teeth left and the string of saliva trailing from his bottom lip to her plushy skin.  “You taste good everywhere.”

“More,” Misty pleads.  “Harry, more, please.”

Harry sits mesmerized by the imprint of his own teeth on her thigh.  “They’ll think you’re crazy if they hear you.”

Misty groans, and Harry instinctively reaches up and covers her mouth without hesitation.  He considers stopping, punishing her for not listening to him and being loud.  But looking up at her, seeing how needy and fucked out she already looks has him weak.  So he buries his face between her legs and prepares to finish the job, licking her out like it’s the one thing he was born to do.

Misty’s hand flies to Harry’s hair and she tugs so hard it makes him wince.  Honestly, it’s the best feeling he’s felt in ages.  No one has pulled his hair like this since long before he died, and the feeling alone causes him to moan out loud against her core.

“Fucking shit, Misty,” he mumbles.  “Do that again.”

“You like that?” Misty cries breathlessly, her fingers moving frantically to grasp at his curls once again.  

Harry groans, lapping against her clit and enjoying the most pleasure he’s felt in years. “Misty,” he breathes, relishing in the way she twitches against the tickle of his breath against her skin, “You’re so fucking perfect.”

“Fuck,” Misty groans.  “Holy shit--”

“Is this good sweet girl?”  

“I need more,” Misty cries, and who is Harry to deny her of her simple request?

He reaches down, fingering gently at the wetness pooling between her legs before teasing a single finger into her-- never once removing his lips from her clit.

He sucks harshly while his finger simultaneously searches for the spongy spot inside of her. She squirms around his digit, and Harry has to use his other hand to pin her hips down.

“Hold still,” he instructs.

“I can’t,” Misty whines. “I need another finger.”

She’s practically begging at this point, and it makes Harry so smug. “Ohhh,” he says, lips ghosting her thighs again, “So you’re the one calling the shots, are you?”

He’s teasing, of course, because he knows that she absolutely is the one in control of everything that’s going on right now.  But the way she’s dripping, tugging on his hair and practically shoving his face into her-- as well as verbally begging him-- strokes his ego.

“Please,” she groans.  “I want-- fuck-- I need to cum.”

Harry smirks up at her, tutting his lips.  “Not even embarrassed to be so needy?” he teases.    “My god…”

As much as he loves to tease her, though, he wants to make her cum more than anything else. And seeing her on the brink like this-- already-- makes him all the more eager. So he adds a second finger, pumping his digits in and out and lapping at her clit like it’s his last meal.  

She lets out an obscene moan, louder than any of the others she’s let out, and he knows she’s close. But for the sake of her pride, he knows she has to stay quiet. So he removes his hand from her hip and presses it to her mouth.

“Quiet,” he instructs, giving her face a little squeeze before putting his entire heart and soul into eating her.  

Misty is wiggling like mad now, and it takes everything in Harry to keep his mouth on her.  He knows that if he lets go of her mouth to try and pin her hips down again, she’ll expose herself— loudly— so this is a challenge Harry gladly accepts.

She stills briefly when her orgasm hits, and then her thighs are trembling around his face.  Her stomach is clenched and she’s drooling against the palm of his hand.  Her muffled moans are music to his ears, but they do sort of catch Harry off guard because he’d never guess that she’d be such a vocal cummer.  Of course, he isn’t complaining, and he wishes that he could hear her, completely unfiltered, with no one around to catch them.

Misty’s stomach relaxes a little bit at the same time she lets out a few little cries, and Harry realizes that she’s finished-- although her pussy continues to flutter with aftershocks against his tongue.  He slowly removes his hand from her wet mouth and looks up at her from under his lashes.

She looks utterly fucked, with tears in her eyes and chest rising and falling gently as she tries to catch her breath.  Harry is fascinated, thinking he’s never seen anyone so beautiful in his entire life, and he realizes that he hasn’t moved in a while when Misty squirms beneath him.

He removes his lips from her but continues to watch her, relieved when her features seem to relax and she lets out a breathy giggle.  “My god,” she says, voice somewhat hoarse.  “That was--”

“A dream,” Harry says, now allowing himself to relax a bit as well.  He looks down at her soaked pussy and grins.  “You’re messy.”

“Can you blame me?”  Misty reaches up to run a hand through her hair.  “Fuck, that was good.”

“Yeah?”  Harry smiles.  “I’m so glad.”

Misty hums, reaching down to playfully muss up Harry’s hair.  “Now, come up here so I can take care of you, pretty boy.”

Her words hit Harry’s heart, causing it to sink immediately. “Oh, doll,” he tuts,  “God, I wish you could.”

Misty frowns.  “What do you mean?”

“No blood in my veins,” Harry explains sadly, still making no effort to remove himself from between her legs.  “No blood… no boner. I don’t get hard.  I don’t cum.”

“Holy shit.”  Misty props herself up on her elbows, looking down at Harry and causing the cutest double chin Harry thinks he’s ever seen.  “Seriously?”

Harry nods.  “Seriously.  So even if you did… I wouldn’t feel anything.”

“Do you…” Misty’s voice gets quiet, as if suddenly going shy.  “Do you still get horny?”

“Yeah.”  Harry kisses Misty’s knee.  “Of course. You think I don’t feel anything while I’m eating your beautiful pussy?”

“I don’t know!” Misty whines.  “I feel like there is so much about you that I’m still learning.”

“Well,” Harry says with a sigh.  “You turn me on.  More than anyone I’ve ever known.  My body may not be able to physically show it… but you do something to me that I haven’t felt in years.”

“So I’ll never be able to suck you off?”  Misty pouts.

Harry smiles sadly.  “I’m afraid not, sweet girl.”

“Holy shit.” Misty frowns. “That fucking sucks.”

Harry laughs. “I mean… it’s not so bad. I get to make you feel good.” He licks softly at her pussy in an attempt to begin cleaning her up, and she flinches out of sensitivity, causing him to chuckle.

“I hate it though,” Harry admits, “kind of. I hate that I can’t…. well… pardon my French here but—“

“Fuck me?” Misty finishes. “You hate that you can’t fuck me? Because I want you to.”

Harry snorts. “Well damn, miss Misty. Never expected you to be so forward but yes, I hate that I can’t fuck you the way you deserve to be fucked.”

Misty frowns. “I just want to make you feel good.”

“You do make me feel good.,” Harry says with a smile. “Every second that we’re together feels better than the last.” He licks at her pussy once again, smiling at the way she wiggles against his tongue instantaneously.

“Now,” he says, “let’s get you cleaned up and get that English paper done, hm?”

-------

It’s the night of Misty’s sorority homecoming, and Misty is having a less than ideal time.

It isn’t that the venue isn’t wonderful, or that her friends aren’t being lovely. Everything seems perfect from the outside, and Misty knows she should be enjoying it. But her problem isn’t with the event itself— it’s the fact that she’s here alone.

Because the one person she’d wanted to bring as her date happens to be a ghost.

Harry had watched her get ready all day, constantly telling her how gorgeous she looked and laughing, amused, when she’d tried countless times to get him to give in and come with her. Of course he wasn’t going to do that, and she understood, but still.

He’d sent her off with a kiss, reminding her one last time how absolutely stunning she looked and promising to be waiting up for her the minute she returned home.  And she’d left, reluctantly, because she knew he was right— she did need to go off and live her life.

But god, what she would give to have him here right now.

“Misty!”  

Misty realizes she’s been staring at the wall, the drink in her hand nearly spilling over, when she’s startled out of her thoughts.  Angie walks excitedly towards her.  

Angie, of course, looks stunning.  She’s wearing a long, blue gown that compliments her eyes nicely, and her hair is done up in curls that are so perfectly put together they don’t even look real.  She flashes Misty a warm smile as she approaches.

“Girl!” she says.  “What’s wrong with you? You alright?”

Misty smiles, realizing that she probably looks silly all zoned out like this.  “Yeah, no, I’m good! Sorry. I didn’t sleep well last night.”

“You look sad,” Angie says, worry creasing her eyes.   “You sure you’re just tired?”

Misty sighs, because god, she really wishes she could explain her situation to Angie. Or anyone really.  “Yeah, I’m good.  Sorry.”

“Well you should get out there and dance!” Angie says encouragingly.  “The DJ kinda sucks but like, if you take a shot beforehand it’s not that bad.”

“He does kinda suck, doesn’t he?” Misty giggles.

“Oh, also…”  Angie hesitates before speaking her next sentence.  “Josh is looking for you.”

Misty rolls her eyes, but Angie continues talking.  “I knoooow, I know he sucks but like… I don’t know, maybe if you got drunk and made out a little bit it would--”

“Why would I do that?” Misty asks.  “He came here with Brooke anyway!”

“Oh yeah, and she’s pissed about it,” Angie giggles. “Everyone knows he was just trying to make you jealous.  Poor Brooke.”

“Yeah,’ Misty says.  “Josh sucks.”

“You know, I don’t know why you won’t give him a chance!” Angie leans against the wall, taking a sip of the bright orange drink in her glass.  “I mean, he like, very clearly wants you.”

“I don’t want him,” Misty replies.  “Like, at all.  If he can’t take a hint, then--’

Misty trails off when she notices Angie squinting over her shoulder.  “Who the hell--”  Angie whispers.

“What?”  Misty turns slowly, and her jaw drops when she sees what it is that Angie is looking at.  

In walks Harry, physical body and all, waving at everyone like he’s known them all his life.

Is she dreaming? Surely she has to be.  She shakes her head, then reaches up to her forehead as if to check her temperature.  Can everyone else see him?  How is he here?

Her movement catches Harry’s eye, and he beams at her, turning his full attention towards her and heading in her direction.  “Misty!” He calls, waving at her.

Angie’s jaw is practically on the floor, as are the jaws of almost every girl in the room.  “You know him?” Angie asks.

And honestly, Misty isn’t sure what the right answer to that question is.  “I--” is all she can manage to get out.

Harry approaches, and Misty is not only greeted by his delicious cinnamon scent, but a strong, spicy cologne. He looks delicious in this suit, and when he hugs her she shivers, partly because of his cold skin and partly (mostly) because she can’t believe her eyes.

“Hiya, darling,” Harry says, wrapping Misty up in a chilly hug and kissing her cheek.  “You look absolutely beautiful tonight.”

“Thank you,” Misty manages to stammer out, although her facial expression must give away how confused she is.  

Harry only smiles down at her, reaching up gently to close her mouth.  He then turns to Angie with a pleasant smile.  “I don’t believe we’ve met,” he says, extending a hand.  “I’m Harry.”

Angie wastes no time, reaching forward to shake his hand quickly.  She seems taken aback by the temperature of his hands, but Harry pays it no mind.  Instead he brushes it off with a quick, “Don’t mind the cold hands.  Can never quite get used to the weather out here.”

Misty giggles, awkwardly, wrapping her arm around Harry’s back.  “Darling,” she says, as forcibly normal as possible, “I had no idea you were coming tonight.”

“Wanted to surprise you!” Harry answers cooly, before turning back to Angie.  “I’m sorry, love, I didn’t catch your name…?”

“It’s Angie!” Angie blurts, cheeks growing redder by the minute.  She giggles like a little schoolgirl.  “Misty never mentioned she had a boyfriend… much less such a handsome one.”

Harry smiles.  “I’m flattered, Angie.  Thank you.  But no, actually, Misty and I are just casual for now.  We met a few summers ago during her spring break back home.  We’re… oh, I don’t know what to call it… talking? I suppose?”  Harry laughs, grinning down at Misty.

Misty, still in shock, misses a beat before realizing that he’s addressing her.  She laughs stiffly.  “Yes,” she says, “‘talking’ is a good word.”

Harry grins back at Angie.  “And you?  Where’s your lucky fellow tonight?”

“Oh,” Angie says, biting at her lip, growing visibly excited at the mention of her date.  “He’s um… he’s somewhere around here. I guess we’re uh— talking as well.”

“Ah,” Harry says, “I see.”

He’s so ridiculously chipper, so casually cool, and Misty is growing more and more impatient by the minute.  She laughs, accidentally cutting Angie off just as she begins a sentence.

“Angie, I’m sorry, but would you mind if I took Harry outside for a bit? I didn’t realize he was going to be here tonight and we… uh…” She looks up at Harry, who only grins smugly back at her,  “We have a bit of catching up to do.”

“Oh sure!” Angie says.  “Of course, babe, go have fun.”  She smiles brightly at Harry.  “It was so nice meeting you, I’ll catch up with you both later, yeah?”

“Yeah!” Harry says, warmly. “Of course!”

Misty smiles at Harry,  but the look in her eyes informs Harry that she has a lot to say.  He smiles, so ridiculously casual and sweet, and takes her hand.

“After you sunshine,” he says.  

Misty rolls her eyes, but she does smile softly to herself as she leads him outside. Harry doesn’t know if she means to, but she gives his hand a slight squeeze as she walks.  He gives her hand a squeeze right back, far more intentional than hers, and her breathy little giggle does not go unnoticed by him.

Harry eyes the room, taking in his surroundings and looking for who he has decided is his number one enemy in life (and technically death)-- Josh.  He doesn’t find him at first, and he has to admit that his heart sinks a bit at the thought of not being able to show Misty off right to Josh’s face.  But then he finds him, outside smoking a cigar with a few other guys, and Harry perks up once again.

Misty doesn’t even acknowledge the boys as she continues to lead Harry to a quiet corner of the garden, but Harry of course isn’t going to stand for that.  Not when he has the satisfaction of seeing Josh’s face light up upon Misty’s arrival only to completely drop half a second later when he sees she’s with somebody.  Harry’s not letting it end there.

“Evening, guys.”  Harry raises his free hand to his forehead, giving the group an effortless salute.   “Gorgeous night, innit?”

Josh takes the bait, immediately stepping out of the circle and making his way over to Harry and Misty.  Misty doesn’t even notice until Harry is resisting her tug, and when she turns around to see who’s approaching she rolls her eyes.  “Fuckin hell,” she mumbles.

Harry, of course, has the complete opposite reaction, smiling warmly right back at Josh.

“Hey man!” Josh says, holding out his free hand.  “I’m Josh.  Don’t think I’ve ever seen you around?”

“Never been around,” Harry says matter-of-factly.  He takes Josh’s hand with a grip so firm Misty can sense it.  “I’m Harry.”

“Nice to meet you, Harry!” Josh’s smile is so fake Misty wants to scream, and she wishes she could evaporate into thin air to escape the awkward tension in the air right now.  “How do you know Misty?”

“I’m from her hometown!” Harry says.  “Met her a few spring breaks ago.  We’ve been casual for a while now.”

“Have you?”  Josh looks pointedly at Misty, and she rolls her eyes.  Harry never looks away from Josh.

“I would say so, yeah,” Harry smiles.  “On and off of course.”

“I see.”  Josh nods stiffly.

“Oh wait!” Harry says suddenly, as if a thought has just occurred to him.  “Ohhh, you’re Josh!  Misty here has told me quite a bit about you!”

Misty can feel the blood rushing to her cheeks as she glances frantically between Harry and Josh.  Josh smiles.

“Oh yeah?  All good things I hope!”

“Mmm…” Harry says in a questioning tone, shrugging a bit but maintaining his smile.

Josh stares blankly back at Harry, completely unsure of how to process what he’s just said, and Misty can’t help but giggle.

“Okay, well!” she says, trying and failing to hide the smile on her face.  “This has been super lovely but Harry and I have quite a bit of catching up to do, don’t we?”

“We sure do, pumpkin!” Harry wiggles his nose exaggeratedly at Misty and she laughs.    He turns back to Josh.  “Nice to finally meet the famous Josh,” he says.   “I’m sure I’ll see ya around!”

“Uh,” Josh stammers.  “Yeah.  See ya.”

Misty tugs Harry away from Josh and over to a secluded corner of the garden, and Harry shoots Josh a pointed and intimidating look over his shoulder before turning to Misty.  She tries to be serious, but she can’t stop herself from giggling.. “Harry what the hell!” She hisses.

He smiles.  “Surprised?  Happy? Do you want to kill me?”

“Um, yes to all of the above!” Misty lightly slaps his arm.  “What are you doing here?!”

“Wanted to surprise you,” he says, reaching forward to gently hook his pinky with Misty’s.  “Figured a beautiful girl like you shouldn’t be alone on a big night like this.  I wanted to help make it special.”

Harry leans in and places a kiss right on Misty’s cheekbone.  “Besides,” he says, softer,  “I couldn’t give Josh the satisfaction of thinking he had a chance tonight.”

Misty giggles, oblivious to the way the nearby group of boys are all watching her longingly.  Harry laughs along with her, kissing her nose and then her smile.  “Are you happy, sunshine?”

“So happy,” she says, kissing him back.  “Beyond happy.”  

Misty pulls away, eyeing Harry in his suit.  Never in her life has she ever seen a more handsome man, and she lets out a hum of satisfaction.  “But,” she says slowly.  “I don’t… understand.  Your energy--”

“I’ll be fine, love,” Harry insists.  “It’s one night.  As long as you’re happy.”

“Yeah but--”

“No buts.” Harry smiles.  “Now, something tells me you haven’t danced much tonight. Is that true?”

Misty smirks.  “Didn’t feel right dancing without you.”

“Well, that’s a shame,” Harry says. “We’ll have to fix that, won’t we?”  He holds his arm out to her, raising his eyebrows.

Misty eyes his arm before giggling and linking arms with him. She shakes her head. “I can’t believe you.”

Harry leads her back inside, shooting Josh one more pointed look before holding the door open for Misty.  She’s like a giggly schoolgirl as she walks through, taking Harry’s hand in hers and giving it a long squeeze.

Misty practically floats onto the dance floor as a slower song begins, and Harry can’t believe she’s real. He twirls her under his arm, admiring the way her skirt swishes and catches the dim lights. She beams up at him brightly before wrapping an arm up around his shoulders and pulling him in. They begin swaying together as Harry pulls her in closer by her hips; the scent of her perfume just below his nose. He can feel her sigh contentedly against his chest, and it makes him smile to himself.

“It’s so nice to finally dance with you like, out in the open and stuff,” Misty says.  “Instead of looking like I’m possessed.”

Harry laughs.  “I know.  It’s nice to be seen.  It’s nice to show off my dancing.”  The minute he finishes his sentence, he spins Misty out, then in, before dipping her.  She squeals, giggling up at him and going limp in his arms.

“Love hearing you laugh like that,” Harry says, mirroring what he’d told her the first night they danced together.  “I mean it.”

He pulls her back up into him, her hair flying behind her.  “No one makes me laugh the way you do,” she admits.  “I love it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.’

A comfortable silence falls between the two of them for the next few moments, and they can’t seem to keep their eyes off of each other. Harry let’s out a boyish giggle and leans forward, pressing a peck to her nose.

“You know,” Misty says. “You’re actually a pretty good dancer for a ghost.”

“I’m not sure whether I should take offense to that or not.”

“It’s a compliment,” Misty laughs. “I’m just impressed. A lot of guys I know aren’t really good at dancing.”

“I was known to be quite the dancer in my day,” Harry says, spinning her out and then quickly back into him once again.

“Really?”

Harry gives Misty a soft little hip check. “Not at all.”

Harry and Misty laugh their way through the rest of the dance, hardly even realizing when the music slows to a stop. Harry leans down, pressing the sweetest kiss to Misty’s lips before she even has a chance to say anything, and she smiles into the kiss— communicating exactly how she’s feeling just by her kiss alone.

After a few more dances, they make their way to a table, giggling and out of breath. Harry orders Misty another drink, socializing with everyone at the table like he’s known them his whole life. And as Misty watches him through slightly buzzed and love drunk eyes, she allows herself to feel, just for the moment, that everything in her little world is perfect with Harry.

———

About an hour and a few drinks later, Misty wanders into the restroom, leaving behind a very happy Harry— who chats effortlessly with the other people at their table.  She realizes halfway through her journey that her face hurts from smiling, and she giggles to herself quietly.

Her situation may be incredibly unique, but she’s so lucky to have Harry here on her arm this evening.  She giggles, throat thick with the sweet drink she’s been sipping on and eyes hazy, before washing her hands and making her way back out into the hallway.  No one is around, and she begins to make her way back into the large dance hall when she nearly runs someone over as she turns the corner.

“Oh, sorry!” She looks up, immediately relieved to find that it’s Harry she’s bumped into.

He smiles down at her.  “Slow down there, speed racer.  Where are you going in such a hurry?”

“Coming to find you,” she says, smiling at him.  She rises up onto her toes and kisses his chin.  

“Mm.”  Harry hums, tilting his head to kiss her lips.  “Having a fun night?”

“Yes.”  She wraps her arms around his waist, pressing her face to his chest and inhaling the delicious cinnamon scent of him.  “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Yeah?” Harry presses a kiss to the top of her head.  “Me too.  So glad.”

Misty pulls away, licking her lips and adjusting Harry’s bowtie that she’d accidentally muffed up.  “How are you feeling?”

“Fine!” Harry insists.  “Like I could run a marathon.”

‘Oh yeah?”  Misty eyes him quizzically, and he laughs.

“I mean… no,” he says. “But I feel fine.”

Misty groans.  “You’re using too much energy.”

“Will you stop?”  He asks, pulling her closer by the small of her back. “I’m fine.”

“Promise?”

‘Promise?”

“Swear?”

Harry chuckles.  “Swear.”

“Cross your heart?”

Harry boops Misty’s nose.  “And hope to die.”

Misty rolls her eyes, reaching up to comb her fingers through Harry’s slightly messy hair.  “You’re not funny,” she says, booping his nose right back.  “But you are handsome as hell.  Especially tonight.”

“Yeah?”  Harry tilts his body, tugging at the ends of his suit jacket.  “Like it?  Picked it out myself.”

“How?”

Harry winks.  “Magic.”

“Oh god,” Misty giggles.  “Well, however you actually did it… I’m glad you did.”  She runs her hands along his shoulders and down his arms, squeezing his hands gently.  “You look fucking delicious.”

“Hardly.  You’re far too sweet to me, angel, but I figured that if I was going to be this beautiful girl’s date tonight, I needed to look the part.”

Misty hums, pulling him in by his lapel and buttoning her lips with his. He smiles against her mouth, and she licks eagerly against his bottom lip.  He knows exactly the kind of mood she’s in just by the way she’s kissing him, and he reaches up to cup the back of her neck.

“God,” she breathes, lips ghosting his. “The things I would do to you.”

Harry gulps, loving the forwardness coming from her pretty lips. “Yeah?” He nods, as if urging her to go on.

“Mm, I could devour you. It’s all I want.”

Harry tilts his head, pulling Misty closer and kissing her ear. “What else do you want?”

“To feel you,” she says. “I bet you’re so big.”

Despite having no blood in his veins, Misty’s words stroke Harry’s ego and twist his stomach into knots.  “Mm,” he hums, trying to maintain his smug demeanor.  “I am, actually.”

“Damn.”  Misty pouts, softly fingering at Harry’s bowtie.  “God I wish I could suck you.”

Harry gulps, because fuck does he sure wish that as well. He raises a hand to brush Misty’s hair back from her face, eyes flickering between her lips and her eyes.  “I know, sweet girl.  Me too.”

They spend a few moments just looking at one another, speaking without words.  Harry gently caresses her cheeks, wishing more than anything that his touch wasn’t so damn cold.   He clears his throat softly.  “We have to get back out there, you know.”

“I know,” Misty sighs.

‘You look so beautiful.”  Harry smiles, reaching forward to take Misty’s hand in his own.   “Never seen anyone so beautiful.”

“You’re one to talk,’ Misty says softly, making Harry scoff.  “Can’t take my eyes off of you.”

“Then don’t,” Harry teases.  “Does wonders for my ego when you look at me like that.” He wiggles his eyebrows.

Misty hums, reaching up to thumb at Harry’s cheek. “I want you,” she says quietly.  “So fucking badly.”

“Yeah?”  Harry says softly, gears turning in his head as he realizes the exact kind of mood Misty is in.  “What is it you want exactly, baby?”

Harry has only known Misty a short time, comparatively speaking, but he knows her well enough to know exactly what buttons to push.  He knows what that look in her eyes means, and he knows how to turn her on with only his words.  

He also knows that making her put into words exactly what she wants turns her into a messy, embarrassed puddle that turns them both on.  So he watches her expectantly.

“Well,” Misty says slowly, heat radiating off of her face.  “I want…. To suck you off.”

“I know,” Harry coos, trailing his fingertips along her jawline.  “Said that already. But you know you can’t, baby.  Doesn’t work like that.”

“I hate it,” Misty pouts.  “I just want to make you feel as good as you make me feel.”

“Making you feel good makes me feel good,” Harry says.  He waits for a response, and when it doesn’t come, tense idea forming in his head comes to fruition.

He reaches around to cup the back of her neck, scratching lightly at the hair there.  “You want me to make you feel good right now, pretty girl?  Hm?”

Misty snaps almost fully out of her trance then, glancing around nervously.  “Harry, we can’t right now.  Are you joking?  We’re in public--”

“Why not?”  Harry grins down at her.  “You know I can disappear.  Make it so that only you could see me.”

“Yeah but--”

“Nobody would know,”  he shrugs, tacking on a quick,  “that is, if you can keep quiet for me.”

Misty sighs sharply at his words, and he chuckles.  

“Sunshine, if you don’t want to, I won’t.”

“No, I…”  Misty lowers her voice, despite the fact that they’re still the only two in the hallway.  “I want to.”

“Yeah?”  Harry asks.  “You sure?  Not trying to pressure you.”

Misty looks up at him, a nervous smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “You’re not pressuring me.  I’ve always wanted to do some raunchy shit like this.”

“Oh yeah?  Bit of an exhibionist are we?”

Misty giggles.  “Harry.”

“I’ll go under the table. No one will even know I’m there.  Even if they look.”

“But where should I tell them you went?”

“Hm.”  Harry hums, considering this for a few moments.  “Cigar break.  Went out to smoke.  You were out with me for a bit but I got a phone call and you got cold.  So you came inside.”

Misty frowns. “You don’t smoke.”

“I’m also not a living human being, but here we are.”  Harry grins, pulling Misty in closer and lowering his voice.  “Gonna let me make you cum, pretty girl?  Hm?’

“Yes,” Misty whispers back, shyly avoiding his gaze.  “Yes.”

“In front of all these people?” Harry asks teasingly.  “Naughty.”

“Harry--”

He laughs, pressing a kiss to her nose.  “Alright, alright.  Go sit at the table.  I think they’re about to serve dessert anyway.”

“And you’re going to miss it?”  Misty pouts.

“Misty,” Harry says,  “You know damn well I’m going to be enjoying my own dessert.”

Misty rolls her eyes.  “I walked right into that one, didn’t I?”

“You did, yeah.”  He pinches her butt.  “Now go.  Please.  I’m hungry.”

“Oh my godddd. Fine.”

She presses one more quick kiss to Harry’s cheek and turns to leave, but he reaches forward-- taking her hand and spinning her back around.  “Wait.”

“Hm?”

“When I come in, you’ll be the only one who can see me. You’ll have to cover for me when I get under the table.”

“Okay.”  Misty nods.  “I’ll pretend I dropped something under there, and I’ll lift the table cloth.”

Harry grins.  “Alright.  Good girl.”

“God,” Misty laughs,  “You’re relentless, huh?”

“What do you mean?” The way Harry’s smiling, he knows exactly what Misty means.

“You just want to get me as worked up as you possibly can, don’t you?”

“You caught me.”

Misty rolls her eyes.  “God you’re annoying.  Okay, I’m going.  See you soon.”

“See you soon, bug.”

Misty turns once again to exit, and Harry gives her bum a quick and subtle slap, which makes her giggle.  

As Harry watches her go, he tries to ignore the ache in his bones.  He’s exhausted-- of course-- from exuding so much energy, but he doesn’t even care.  It feels so good to feel alive again like this.  To be on the arm of a pretty girl, in the midst of a bunch of young happy people with their whole lives ahead of them.

He sighs, pushing his yearning feeling far out of his head and ignoring the exhaustion in his body.  He’s going to give Misty a few minutes to get settled in her seat before he joins her, and he thinks maybe he should go hide in the bathroom for a moment to give himself a bit of an energy break.

The idea is quickly shattered, however, when Angie and her date turn the corner, giggling all over one another. Angie stops dead in her tracks as soon as she sees Harry, and she grows visibly embarrassed.

“Oh! Harry! Hi!”

Harry smiles politely. “Hello Angie. This must be your lucky man.”

Angie smiles shyly up at her date. “Yeah,” she says, “this is Eric. Eric, this is Harry.  He’s Misty’s date tonight.”

“Hey man!” Eric removes his arm from around Angie’s shoulders and holds it out for Harry. “Nice to meet you!”

Eric seems like a pleasant guy, a bit on the short side with big brown eyes and hair that has been perfectly gelled for this evening. Harry shakes his hand warmly, grateful for the fact that Eric hardly seems to even notice the temperature of his hands.

“Where you from, brother?” Eric asks. “Never seen you around before.”

“I’m from Misty’s hometown.”  Harry nods. “Known each other for ages. It’s a sort of casual thing between us, you know?”

“Right on!” Eric grins. “Sort of casual for Ang and I too, I suppose.”

Angie’s face falls just the slightest bit for only half a second, and if Harry had blinked he’d have missed it. She smiles. “Yeah!” She adds. “Super casual.”

“How wonderful.” Harry grins. “You’re a lucky man, Eric.”

Angie blushes at Harry’s words, then gives Eric’s arm a squeeze. “Harry you’re way too nice.” She lets go of Eric’s arm, turning towards the restroom door. “I’m gonna run to the bathroom, if you guys will just excuse me for a second.”

Harry and Eric mumble their goodbyes as Angie makes her way quickly into the bathroom.  Harry smiles at Eric, nodding his head as a parting gesture before turning to make his way to Misty.

“Wait, Harry.”

Eric’s voice surprises Harry, and he whirls back around.  “What’s up man?”

Eric seems hesitant, opening his mouth and then closing it.  He laughs, as if embarrassed of his own self, before speaking.  “Man… I don’t know why I’m asking you this.”

Harry steps back towards Eric, his friendly smile never leaving his face.  “You alright?”

“No I’m good! I just… maybe it’s cause I’m drunk… but I’m--” Eric sighs.  “Dude, I don’t know what to do.”

“About what?”

“Angie,” Eric admits.  “You know, like, I really like her and I-- I don’t know.”

“Mm.”  Harry nods.  “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know if… if she feels the same.”  Eric seems nervous, and Harry smiles reassuringly.

“Are you kidding me?  Do you not see the way she looks at you?”  Eric’s eyebrows furrow, as if what Harry is saying makes no sense to him, so Harry continues.  “She looks at you like you hung the bloody moon, mate.”

“Seriously?”

“You know, I asked her about you earlier. ‘Course, I didn’t know who you were.  But when I asked who her lucky man was, her face lit up like the sun.  How long have you been an item?”

Eric smiles a dimpled smile, seemingly relaxed.  “Almost two months now, I would say.”

“Why the hesitation, then?  If you don’t mind me asking.”

Eric sighs.  “I don’t know, man.  I guess I just…I don’t want to do things wrong.”

“You want to know what I think?” Harry takes a step forward.

“Yeah. If you don’t mind.”

Harry takes in a big breath, pondering the words he’s about to say. He opens his mouth, then closes it, before taking a step towards Eric. “I think,” he begins slowly, “that life is too short.”

Eric chuckles. “Man, it really is, huh?”

Harry nods. “Way too fucking short—pardon my French- to let perfect moments pass you by.”

“Yeah?”

“Mate, if you really feel this way about her, and you know you have this beautiful connection… why wait? You know what I mean?  There were--er, are-- so many moments in my life that I look back on and think, ‘god if only I hadn’t been so stupd.  If only I had done this, or said that.  If only, if only, if only.  And I think…”  Harry sighs.  “I think that when it comes to telling someone how you feel about them…  it’s important to be honest and vulnerable. That’s what makes you feel human.”  Harry smiles, almost lost in his own thoughts.  

“And feeling human,” he adds,  “The good and the bad, is what life is.”

Eric doesn’t reply right away. He smiles, taking in everything that Harry is saying to him. “Shit dude,” he says, after a long while. “That’s some profound shit.”

“Nah,” Harry says, playing it off with a cheeky smile. “We’re just drunk.”

Eric laughs at this. “Maybe. But that was really good advice.”

Harry shrugs. “Just telling you what I wish someone had told me.”

“Yeah.” Eric grins. “Well thanks man.  Ang and I were coming over here to like….” Eric lowers his voice, “.... do stuff, but like, I want her to know it’s more than that for me. You know?”

“I know.”  The door to the women’s restroom begins opening and Harry raises his eyebrows cheekily. “Off you go then,” he tacks on quietly.

Harry turns to exit just as Angie enters, and he can’t help but feel somewhat giddy in his stomach for Eric. He hears Eric and Angie chatting softly behind him when he’a suddenly stopped by the sound of his own name.

“Harry!”

Harry turns on his heel. “Hm?”

“Thanks.”  

Angie glances between Eric and Harry, a bit confused but still smiling. Harry shoots her a quick wink before raising two fingers to his eyebrow and saluting Eric loosely. Eric smiles, an unspoken confirmation between him and Harry, and Harry rounds the corner, leaving him and Angie to talk things out.

And now, there’s only one pressing matter on Harry’s mind:

Making Misty cum until she can’t think straight.

Misty’s stomach churns as she watches Harry enter the room.  She is so nervous for what she knows is about to happen, and yet she’s so excited.  She makes casual small talk-- of course about Harry-- with the others at her table.  “Yeah he went out for a cigar and then got an important phone call from work” and “oh yeah, we met a few springs back.  It’s been very casual” and “God, I know, he’s handsome, isn’t he?”

Harry’s eyes never leave Misty’s face, and he’s smirking so deeply it makes Misty’s stomach (and other parts of her) twitch. “Hiya, baby,” he says quietly, and Misty has to raise her drink to her lips to cover up the enormous smile on her face.

“You remember you have to help me out here?” Harry asks, and Misty doesn’t answer him. Instead, she subtly knocks her knife off of the table.

It doesn’t cause much of a commotion, just enough for the others at the table to glance in her direction.  “Oops!” Misty says, “My bad!” She leans over, lifting the tablecloth and shooting Harry a subtle glance.

He grins. “Sneaky girl,” he mutters, before dropping to his knees and crawling under the bit of space that Misty has opened up for him.

Misty tries to cover up the rustling of the tablecloth as Harry crawls, and luckily the movement goes pretty much completely unnoticed by all of her drunken peers.  Harry settles himself beneath the table, and grins at her.   He presses a kiss to her knee.  

“Still good with this?”

“Yes,” Misty whispers.  “Are you?”

Harry scoffs, gently running his hands up her calves.  “What a dumb question.”

Blood rushes to Misty’s cheeks as she drops the tablecloth and sits up straight. She offers the others at her table a forced smile, but no one seems to notice or care.  She squirms, parting her legs ever so slightly.

Harry reaches for the bottom of her long dress, taking his time and really teasing her by building up anticipation as he drags the fabric up her calves. He kisses the skin he exposes as he goes, taking care to love on her knees a little extra because he knows they’re sensitive.  Misty instinctively opens her legs a bit more, and Harry chuckles quietly.

“Gonna need you a bit more open than that, love.” He gently pries her knees apart, bunching up the fabric of her dress and gasping quietly at the sight before him when he realizes what he’s looking at.

“Ohhh, baby,”  he breathes, “no panties?”  He reaches forward with a single finger, teasing at where he knows she’s already damp. “My god, you’re a dream.”

She wiggles a bit in her seat, hoping for more friction from Harry’s finger, and Harry chuckles almost menacingly. “Squirmy little thing, aren’t you? Barely even touching you yet.”

Harry leans in, pressing another slow kiss to her knee before trailing his lips and tongue up her thigh. He drapes the skirt of her dress over his head, immediately shivering at the feeling of her warmth and wondering if she likes the sensation of his coldness.  

Under the protection of her skirt, all Harry can see, hear, and smell is Misty, and he takes a moment to really soak it all in. Her scent is intoxicating, and he swears that if he were alive, he would be more than content to live out the rest of his days with his face buried between her legs.

Harry takes a big deep breath in through his nose, and exhales slowly, making a point to blow against her skin. He can feel her subtly shiver, and he grins.  This is going to be easier than he thought.

For him at least.

“Now careful,” he taunts.  “Gonna keep quiet for me?” He smirks, pulling away to tease her skin lightly with his finger.  “That was a trick question.  Know you’re going to because you don’t have a choice.”

Misty kicks lightly at Harry, and he grunts.  “Ouch.  Feisty thing.”  He grins. “Alright, alright.  I’ll stop teasing.”

And somehow, Misty doesn’t believe him.

Harry leans in, licking and kissing softly at her clit, just to get her nice and relaxed.  His curls tickle at her thighs, and he hooks his arms around her legs to hold her in place. He’s hardly even started, and yet she’s already so wet. He’d be lying if he said that didn’t do wonders for his ego.

He can faintly hear the conversation going on above the table, but he does make out his name and something about missing out on dessert.  

“He’ll be fine,” Misty says.  “I’ll grab him a slice in a bit.”

“What a generous girl you are,” Harry mumbles, although he isn’t sure if Misty’s heard him or not.  If she had heard him, though, he doesn’t give her time to react.  He opens his lips wider, lapping at her clit from a new angle that makes her shiver.  She squirms in her seat, lowering herself just a bit so that Harry has easier access, and he unhooks one of his arms from her legs to rub gently at her clit while he repositions himself.

Misty squirms against him, and her hands make their way under the table.  Harry isn’t sure what exactly she’s doing until her skirt is lifted up from over his head, and he blinks in the dim light.  

“What, baby?”  he asks.

She threads her fingers through his curls, squeezing, before gently trying to push his head back down.

“Oh you want my hair?”  Harry chuckles. “Cute.”

He licks gently at her clit, enjoying the way her fingers scratch a bit harshly into his scalp. He hums. “Fuck, that feels good.”

Misty jolts when Harry kisses a specific spot, and he chuckles. “Ohhh...You liked that, didn’t you?”  Harry pulls back, examining the spot he just kissed.  “Noted.”

Harry leans in then, attacking the same spot he’d just been lapping at, and the way Misty yanks suddenly at his curls informs him that it’s definitely a good spot.  He moves his hand to grip either side of her waist.

“Misty,” Harry gulps quietly, grasping at her as if he can feel her slipping through his fingers. “Baby, please, I need—“

Misty’s fingers curl into Harry’s hair even more, tugging slightly until Harry finds himself with his forehead pressed to her thigh. He shivers, mumbling against her skin,  “Need you to open up just a bit more for me, baby.”  Without thinking, he presses a kiss to the fleshy spots just below her pussy as she continues to scratch affectionately at his head.  “You’ve done such a good job.  Been good so far.  Need you open.”  Harry sponges kisses along the hem of her dress.

Misty pulls Harry’s head up gently by his curls and rubs her thumb along his cheekbone before squeezing lightly at his cheeks, opening her legs more and pulling him closer to her pussy.

Harry needs only that squeeze as a starter gun, and then he’s off. His hands find their way up to her hips as he bunches up her skirt.  He presses several chaste kisses to the velvet soft skin of her inner thigh, taking his time to soak in her warmth before attaching his lips to her pussy again.

He flattens his tongue along her, licking a long broad stripe just to get the wetness all soaked into his tongue before wrapping his lips around her clit.  He sucks softly, flicking his tongue between his slightly parted lips to give her a heavier sensation.

Misty hums quietly, letting her nails trail along his scalp to the back of his neck.  He knows she wants to moan, and it only encourages him to work harder.  He removes his lips from her clit with a popping noise that startles her, and she lifts the tablecloth ever so slightly.  Their eyes meet, and Harry can tell she’s already fucked.  He grins.

“They couldn’t hear that,” he reminds her. “You’re the only one who has to keep quiet here.”

There’s a visible lump in Misty’s throat as she sighs, begrudgingly removing her eyes from Harry and focusing on the party occurring around her.  Harry clicks his tongue.

“Ohh,” Harry coos,  “poor baby.  Feels so good and she can’t even moan for me, can she?  Sweet girl.”

Harry pulls the tablecloth out of her hands, yanking it back down before resuming the movement of his tongue against her clit. She squirms against him, obviously growing impatient.

“You love this so much,” Harry says,  “don’t you, sunshine?”

Harry doesn’t know if he’s ever in his existence had it this bad for anyone before, and somewhere deep down he knows that Misty fully cognizant of the power she holds over him. It’s exciting for the both of them really, and Harry knows that Misty does not take it lightly.  Still, he loves the exhilaration of teasing her to no end-- he loves how wet it gets her and he especially loves being the only one who gets to see her like this.

Harry lets out a low-bellied grunt, and Misty sighs, an almost inaudible mumble of “oh god” passing her pretty lips.  Harry removes his mouth from her clit, tilting his head to attach it instead to the sensitive skin of her inner thigh with a mumbled coo of,  “Careful.”  He sucks harshly, pulling until he feels her skin against his teeth and then he lets off with a pop.  Misty wants to moan so badly it’s killing her, and Harry can see her toes curling in her heels.  He kisses the spot he’s just bitten, where he knows a mark is already beginning to blossom.

“Feel how wet you are?” He asks.  “Feel how messy you get just from a bit of teasing?  Are you not embarrassed to be so wet??”

“Christ.”  Misty’s voice is so low only Harry can hear it, but he smiles against her inner thigh when he does.

“How cute,” he muses, reaching out to feel the stickiness pooling between her legs. “I wonder what everyone would say if they knew how messy you get for me.” He brings his fingers to his lips, tasting the wetness against his fingertips and humming to himself.  “Wonder if they can smell you.”

Harry buries his tongue directly into the center of her and shakes his head a bit, ignoring the one loose curl of his that falls into his face.  He can feel Misty’s entire body tense up, and he knows she’s close.  He takes his opportunity to make it a million times worse for her; with one hand he reaches up and spreads her lips further apart.  With the other hand, he gently tickles at the back of her knee.

She squirms, partly from his touch against the sensitive part of her leg but mostly from the sensation of his tongue against her clit.  He can see her fingers clench against her chair, and he smiles before buying his own fingers inside of her warmth.  Misty all but lurches forward, and Harry is almost worried he’s given her too much too quickly.  Still, he’s nothing if not a tease, so he curls his fingers gently inside of her.

He smirks, deciding that she’s had enough teasing and wanting to make her cum. He can hear her let out a quiet, breathy giggle, obviously confused at the sensations she’s feeling, overwhelmed with the desire to both laugh and moan, and when he thinks she’s had enough he pulls his fingers away from her knee.

Harry hums against her core, shaking his head. “Cum for me, sweet girl.”

Misty grips the edge of the table at the same time Harry notices her stomach clenches, and then he knows she’s cumming because her knees begin trembling.  He can feel her orgasm pulsating through her, and he works her through it patiently with his tongue.  He curls his fingers a bit more, and sucks a bit harsher, and for a moment he completely loses himself in his own actions.

He’s never seen Misty so wound up, and she lightly stomps her heels against the ground in frustration.  He knows she feels good-- hell, he feels good, too-- and he tries his best to keep her as grounded and still as he possibly can.

It’s when she tangles her fingers in his hair to lightly tug his head away that he realizes he hasn’t stopped, and she’s completely spent.

Harry sits for a moment, staring at her soaked pussy and now slightly bruised thighs, and he admires his work.  She combs her fingers lovingly through his curls, and he knows she’s thanking him for making her feel so good.  It’s then, of course, that he realizes exactly how exhausted he is.  He turns his head to kiss gently at her wrist, then allows himself to sit for a moment and catch his breath.

He doesn’t know how much longer he’s going to last like this. He’s never used this much energy in manifesting before, and he didn’t expect it to be this hard. But Misty is having a wonderful time, and of course so is he— he doesn’t want the night to end by any means, but god, is he ready to lay down.

Harry musters up all the strength he can manage and taps Misty’s knee. “Can you let me out, sweet girl?”

It takes Misty a moment before she lifts the tablecloth, pretending to mess with her heels.  She gives Harry the softest smile the moment their eyes meet, and she looks completely wrecked in a way that only he would recognize.  He chuckles.

“Got you that good, did I?” He begins crawling out from under the table, trying his best to cover how exhausted he is.  As he passes Misty he presses a chaste kiss to her nose, making her giggle.  “I’ll be back.”  

He rises, weakly, to his feet-- and he hopes Misty doesn’t notice how slowly he moves, but she does, and she frowns.  He brushes it off, refusing to make it into a big deal, and then disappears from sight.

Misty is left, trying to cover up the fact that she’s struggling to catch her breath-- and she smiles the moment she sees Harry physically enter the room.

He’s grinning- because of course he is— and his finger guns in Josh’s direction do not go unnoticed by Misty. She rolls her eyes as he approaches the table, smiling brightly at everyone in the small circle.

“Sorry,” he says convincingly, “my mum called.”

Misty smiles up at him. “Oh that’s okay, my love! Everything okay?”

Harry grins at her, reaching over to take her hand in his own. “Everything is absolutely fine. Couldn’t be better, in fact.”

Misty grins, obviously flustered just by the way he’s looking at her. “Yeah?”

He leans forward, kissing her nose lightly.  “Yeah.”  

Harry turns to everyone at the table, smiling that charming smile that Misty is so obsessed with.  “Now,” he says, “Am I too late to get a slice of this cheesecake?”

----

Harry drops, completely spent, onto Misty’s bed.  As soon as she closes the door behind her she rushes to him, immediately undoing the laces on his left shoe.

He’s paler now, his skin looking thin and white, and he smiles sleepily down at her as she gets to work tugging his shoe off.  She seems worried, but he only chuckles.

“Had so much fun with you,” he says, voice weak.  “Did you have fun?”

“Harry, you shouldn’t have put so much energy forward.”

“Wanted to,” he says.  “Worth it.”

“Harry,” Misty coos, tugging the shoe off of his foot before working on the other.  “My god, look at you.”

“Just sleepy,” Harry says.  “I’ll be completely back to normal tomorrow.  Promise.”

Misty is unconvinced; she frowns as she tugs off his other shoe before sitting fully on the bed, crawling up the length of his body.

“I’m gonna undress you,” she says.  “Is that okay?”

“Yeah,” he sighs,  “‘Course it’s okay.”

Misty begins by unbuttoning his suit jacket, then the buttons of his shirt. Harry watches her the entire time, reveling in her warmth. “Feels nice to be taken care of like this.  Wish you didn’t have to.”

“Harry, it’s the least I can do.  You’ve done so much for me.   You shouldn’t have come out tonight.  You should have…”  She notices the way he’s watching her, and it catches her off guard.  “What?”

Harry grunts, trying weakly to prop himsef up on his elbows.  “Do you realize,’ he says, voice frail, “that this is the most fun I’ve had in years?  That getting to feel alive, with the most beautiful girl I’ve ever known, is worth any pain I might be in now?”  He catches Misty’s worried frown, and quickly tacks on, “But I’m not in pain. Just sleepy.”

Misty sighs. “I can’t help but feel like it’s my fault.”

“Awfully selfish of you,” Harry teases. “Not everything is about you, you know.”

Misty rolls her eyes, using all of her strength to sit Harry up and remove his jacket. Harry chuckles, a weak laugh that trails off into a cough. “I promise,” he says, as she settles him back down. “I’m okay. I’m just sleepy. It’s not like I’m dying.”

He watches her expectantly, waiting for a reaction and obviously proud of his stupid joke.

Misty shoots him a deadpanned glare that makes him cackle. “Come onnn,” he says, “that was a good one!”

“How can you still be so annoying when you’re so exhausted?” Misty says, chuckling as she works to unbutton his shirt.

Harry doesn’t answer her, propping an arm up behind his head and watching her work.  She allows her eyes to trail down his body as she reaches the bottom button, pausing at a small patch of hair she notices leading from his bellybutton down into his trousers.  Her breath hitches in her throat as she comes to the realization that she’s never seen him beneath his clothes.

Harry seems to realize this at the same time, and his smile fades just a hair.  “What, baby?”

Misty doesn’t answer him.  Instead she slowly pulls the two sides of his shirt apart further, exposing his entire torso.  She lets out her breath slowly, surprised at how completely normal he looks. She reaches a hand forward but stops herself, unsure if she should actually touch him.

“You know I used to have a tattoo there,” Harry offers.

Misty’s eyes flicker from his tummy to his face.  “Yeah?”

“Yeah.  I had a ton actually.  But I guess when you die, they don’t come with you.”

“What were they?”

Harry trills his lips.  “God I had so many I don’t even remember all of them.  There was a butterfly right here--” he points to the direct center of his stomach, --”some swallows here--” his collarbones,  “and…” Harry smirks, pointing to his hip bones.  “Some ferns here.”

“God.”  Misty continues to scan at his body, eyes landing on a soft purple mark on his ribs.

Harry knows immediately what Misty sees, and he smiles softly at her, taking her hand in his as his face takes on a far more serious expression.  “Where I landed,” he explains. “When I—“

“Oh my god...” Misty is torn between wanting to touch the scar and wanting to leave it be, and Harry seems to be completely sympathetic to that because he only chuckles.

“It’s weird, isn’t it?” He asks. “Took me a while to get used to.”

“I didn’t…” Misty trails off, confused as to how she should even word her question. “I mean, I didn’t think—“

“I know,” Harry says. “It’s weird. I mean how could you ever even know what to expect to see on a ghosts body? How could you  expect, like… a sign of death on another body.”

“I just—“ Misty genuinely doesn’t know what to say, and she’s so thankful that Harry doesn’t pressure her at all.

“I know,” he repeats. “It’s weird.”

“Can I…” Misty’s voice is hardly above a whisper when she speaks. “Can I touch it?”

Harry smiles softly.  “If you’d like.”

“I--”  Misty trails off, unsure of what exactly it is that she’d like to say.  She reaches forward with a timid hand, almost pulling her hand completely back before touching the gentle purple mark.  It’s not raised-- she doesn’t know why she was expecting it to be-- but it’s colder than the entire rest of his body.  She gasps without even realizing what she’s doing.  Harry flinches slightly at her touch, but he doesn’t move.

He allows Misty to run a loving finger over his scar, taking in exactly what it is she’s looking at, before he speaks.  “Are you alright?”

“What?”  It takes Misty a moment to realize what he means, and she tears her eyes from the scar immediately. “Oh god, yeah, sorry.  I’m okay, I just--”

“It’s weird,” Harry says for what feels like the ninetieth time.  “I know.”

Misty sighs, hesitating a bit, as if she wants to say something more. She scans his body again, glancing up at his eyes sadly, before slowly moving forward.  

She moves as if in slow motion, and Harry watches her with baited breath. She squirms a bit, angling her body a certain way, and lowering her face towards his torso.  Harry realizes with sadness what she’s doing, and pressure builds behind his eyes when she lowers her lips to the purple scar.  She presses the most velvet soft kiss Harry thinks he’s ever felt into his flesh, and his eyes cloud with mist.

Misty trails her lips from his ribs up to his collarbone. There is nothing but love in her movements, and Harry tries to swallow down a lump in his throat.  His breath is shaky as he looks down at her, loving on his body.  

She seems lost in her movements, kissing all over his torso as her lashes flutter slowly.  She lowers her lips to his stomach, and he can’t stop the single tear that slips from his left eye.

He hasn’t been loved on like this in years, and he’d almost forgotten what it felt like.

There is no sexual intention behind her kisses, and her low breath from her nose tickles gently just above his belly button.  Harry reaches up to dab at his eye, trying to prevent another tear from escaping.  “Misty,” he says, voice cracking the slightest bit.  “Darling--”

“Harry,” she says softly against the skin of his tummy.  She lifts her head, looking into his eyes and giving him a sympathetic smile.  She reaches up to wipe at his cheek with her thumb, and she doesn’t move her hand away when she’s done. She sighs.  “You are so, so beautiful.”

“Misty,” he says.  “I don’t--”  He trails off when she pecks at his collarbone, trailing warm, wet kisses up his neck.  She noses at his cheek when her lips hit his chin, and then she’s kissing his lips.  It’s all so gentle, so ridiculously intimate and sweet, and Harry doesn’t even realize he’s still crying when two more tears roll down his cheek.

“My sweet boy,” she says, pulling away to wipe gently at his cheeks.  “My god.”

“It’s not fair,” Harry whispers.  “It’s not fair.”

“I know,” she says, continuing to run her thumbs over his cheeks.  “I know, baby.  But it is what it is.  And Harry…”  She smiles softly.  “We can’t let it hang over the time we have left like a raincloud.  Hm?  Remember that?”

Harry laughs in spite of himself, knowing that she’s repeating his own words.   “I know,” he says.   He reaches up weakly to cup her face as well.  “I just want to be able to love you the way you deserve. Fully.  Without fear.”

Misty’s heart freezes the minute she hears Harry speak the word “love” but she doesn’t react.  Instead, she leans in, kissing his jaw.  “Harry,” she says slowly.  “I know it’s not ideal.  But you have given me the best month of my entire life.  I’ll never be able to thank you enough.”

“Don’t,” Harry says, “Don’t say that.  You don’t need to thank me.  Misty I--”

“Shhh.”  Misty rubs her thumb along his bottom lip.  “I know.”  She smiles now, trying her best to hold back her own tears.  “I’m so… so thankful for you.  My beautiful boy. We will meet again, okay?  I promise you.”

Harry swallows thickly.  “I know we will.  I’m coming back the moment I can.”

“See?” she says, smiling.  “And next time will be even better.  But you know what?”  she sniffs, feeling herself slip further into sadness and begging herself not to cry. “We’ve still got a few more days, yeah?”

“We do, yeah.”  Harry chuckles, reaching up to wipe at his eyes.  “God, I’m a sap aren’t I?  I didn’t think this was going to hit me so hard.”

“It’s good, my love!  Sometimes it’s okay to let your emotions out like this.   You’ve done so much for me.  Let me love on you a little bit for a change.”

“You love on me constantly!”

“No,” Misty says.  “Not enough.”  She kisses him again before sitting up.  “Let me get changed.  We’ll go to sleep.  We both need it.”

Harry watches her rise to her feet, and he reaches up to wipe at his damp face.  “You’re too good to me, sunshine.”

“Yeah, yeah.  You can thank me later.”

Harry snorts and Misty throws him a joking glance over her shoulder.  “I’ll be right back.”

Misty disappears into the hallway, making her way to the bathroom to wash her face, brush her teeth, and put on a t-shirt.  She allows herself a few tears, crying quietly to herself for only a minute because god, it hurts so bad.  It hurts feeling something so deep for somebody who isn’t even alive; for someone who she knows she’s going to have to spend 90% of the next year without.  

As soon as she allows herself that moment of weakness, however, she forces it to pass.  Wiping her tears away, she continues with her bedtime routine, making sure she doesn’t look like she’s been crying before making her way back into her bedroom.

When she gets there, Harry is fast asleep on top of her bed-- still in a state of various undress.  She recalls him telling her that ghosts don’t sleep, not exactly, but he looks so peaceful-- wherever he is right now.  

Misty works to gently undress him the rest of the way as he blinks sleepily, hardly even responding to her at all. And when he’s in only a pair of boxers, Misty crawls into bed beside him after turning off the light.

She rolls onto her side, watching him as he sleeps-- or, whatever it is ghosts do.  He looks so beautiful, and she reaches forward to gently stroke at the scar on his ribs again. She loves him, she thinks.  Even though she’s only known him for a short amount of time, she loves him. And there’s an ache in such a weirdly specific part of her heart that she can’t even begin to put into words.  

Pressing the gentlest kiss to Harry’s temple, she cuddles into his side, and he subconsciously wraps an arm lazily around her.  Misty wills herself not to cry-- not to think about the situation at all-- as she drifts gently to sleep.

-----

It’s a somber day.  Colder than usual.  Misty sits with her feet dangling over the side of her bed, and Harry stands off in the corner of her room, nervously fidgeting with some of the trinkets on her shelf.

They know it’s coming.  They’ve known it was coming for the last few days, but they’ve both been avoiding the subject, pretending that if they just ignore it, it will go away.

But it won’t go away.  And Harry has to leave.

Harry glances out the window.  It’s gray outside, matching the atmosphere in the room.  The trees blow angrily outside Misty’s window, and Harry swears he can feel the wind in his body.

“Looks like it’s going to rain,” he remarks casually.

Misty doesn’t reply, and he turns around to see her just staring sadly at him.  She isn’t crying, not yet anyway, but her eyes look damp.

“Are you sure you can’t stay?” Her voice is quiet, like she doesn’t want to be asking the question, and she won’t even look directly at him. It makes his heart-- however dead it is-- feel like its shattering, and he takes a step towards her.

He brushes her hair behind her ear.  “You know I wish I could,” he says, equally as quiet.

“And what would happen if you just… didn’t?”

“Didn’t what?”

“I don’t know.  Didn’t… go?”

Harry smiles sadly.  “It doesn’t work like that.  I don’t have a choice.”

Misty opens her mouth, then closes it again.  Her breath hitches in her throat before she lets it all out in a sigh.  “What’s it like?”  She’s speaking in a whisper.

“What is what like?”  Harry matches her tone.

“When you… go, I mean.  The process. Do you just like, fall asleep?  Or is it like you just blink and you’re in the void?”

Despite the heaviness of their conversation, Harry chuckles.  “Somewhere in between, I suppose.”

“Does it hurt?”  She gulps subconsciously, and she looks so curious and cute right now Harry could scream.

He shakes his head. “No.  Doesn’t feel like anything.”

“So one minute you’re here and the next you’re just…”  She trails off, and Harry sighs.

“Gone,” he finishes somberly.  “Yes.”

After a beat, Misty chuckles bitterly.  “Seems a bit unfair.”

“I’ll be back the first moment I can be,” Harry says, then adds with a smile, “If you’ll have me.”

“Of course I will,” she says, finally turning to face him fully.  She takes his cold hands in her own, and her warmth makes him shiver.  “I’ll wait for you every single day.”

“Don’t say that,” Harry says, shaking his head and sitting beside her on the bed.  “You have a life to live.  I don’t.”

Misty’s eyes grow damp, but she blinks back the tears just as quickly as they arrived.  “But I’m going to miss you so much,” she says through a shaky voice.

It all seems silly, really, for Harry and Misty both.  But neither of them can help it.  This connection they’ve formed in such a short amount of time weighs heavily on both of their hearts.  And Harry is certain that he would do just about anything in the universe to get another chance at life, if only to be with her.

“I’m going to miss you so much it’s going to hurt me every second,” Harry says, not a trace of humor in his voice despite the slight exaggeration.

Misty lets out her breath in a loud, shaky sigh.  She rests her head on Harry’s shoulder, and for a while they just sit there like this, him and her, pretending with all their might-- if only for a few minutes-- that this is just another day for them.  That Harry is human, and that they can grow old together.

“I have a selfish request,” Misty says after a while.

“Anything.”

Misty takes a deep breath.  “Will you come visit me?  In my dreams?”

“You already know that’s my plan.”

“Every dream?”

Harry chuckles.  “Well, that’s a bit of a tall order.  I don’t know if I’ll be able to come every night.  But, as often as I can, and as often as you’ll have me, I will come.”

“Promise?”

Harry turns to kiss Misty’s forehead.  “I promise.”

Misty closes her eyes and leans gently into Harry’s kiss, breathing in the scent of cinnamon that she’s grown to love so much.  “So when does it happen?” she asks, almost hesitantly.  “When do you… go?”

“I don’t know the exact moment,” Harry admits.  “Whenever the sun enters Sagittarius. Whatever that exact time is.”

“Is there gonna be a Sagittarius Season ghost?”  Misty asks.  “Ghost of Sagittarians past?”

Harry laughs. “I don’t think so, no.  But if there is, don’t go fallin’ in love with him now.  Sagittarians are nothin’ but trouble.”

“Don’t think I ever could,” Misty says, a bittersweet ache in her voice.  “Think I’ll only ever have feelings for you.”

Harry sighs, patting gently at Misty’s knee.  He savors her scent and her warmth for a few beats before he changes the subject.  “Your sisters will be glad to have you around again,” he says.  “I know I’ve been hoggin’ ya.  They must think you’re really goin’ through something, the way you’re keeping to yourself.”

“They wouldn’t understand even if I did try to explain it to them,” Misty replies.

Harry nods sympathetically.  “And you’re gonna have a hard time explaining to them what happened to your mysterious long distance boyfriend from back home.”

“Oh shit,” Misty says, worry suddenly showing on her face.  “What am I gonna tell them when they ask?”

“Tell them he died.”  The look on Harry’s face is so smug, and Misty can tell that he’d been holding onto that one for a while.  She rolls her eyes, but doesn’t even try to refrain from smiling.

“Oh my god, Harry.”

“It’s not wrong!”

“That’s not funny!” The smile on Misty’s face tells Harry otherwise, and he nudges her shoulder with his own.

“Alright alright.”  Harry smiles, reaching forward to interlace their fingers.  There’s a moment of drab silence, and Harry sighs thickly before finally admitting weakness. “God, I’m going to miss you.”

Misty’s smile softens, but it doesn’t completely fade.  She turns her head, pressing the softest kiss to Harry’s shoulder.  “I’m going to miss you more than you know.”

There’s a comfortable silence that falls between the two of them, and Harry interlaces his fingers with hers.  “Maybe you’ll meet a boy to take you to next year's homecoming,” he muses.

Misty frowns.  “That’s not funny either.”

“Not trying to be funny! Trying to encourage you to live your life, darling.  I wish I could still live mine.”

“You can live in my dreams. Rent free.”

With a snort, Harry stands up. “Oh I intend to. As much as possible.”

“Well good.”

Harry walks over to Misty’s window again, watching the trees blow in the wind for a few quiet moments.  After a bit, he speaks again.  “I have an idea.”

“Hm?”

“Let’s have fun tonight. Let’s watch a movie. I’ll manifest in front of everyone and we can end on a high note. Instead of being sad.”

Misty considers his words for a moment. “But I want you to myself.”

Harry grins. “So they won’t question it when we excuse ourselves early, will they?”

Misty rolls her eyes.  “Well, when you put it that way--”

Harry laughs.  “No one even has to join in with us if they don’t want to.  But I figure my last night here shouldn’t be spent so upset.”

“Yeah,” Misty agrees.  “But I’m still gonna be sad.”

“Don’t you want to remember me having fun?  That’s how I want you to remember me, at least.”

“Yeah but--”

“No buts!”  Harry holds his hand out to her.  “Come on then. You get to pick the movie.”

The evening progresses unbearably fast, and it isn’t long before Misty finds herself curled up into Harry’s side on the couch, watching him giggle alongside all her sorority sisters and their various partners.  She hopes he doesn’t notice her staring at him, but she can’t help it of course. He is so lovely, so full of some type of light that she has never seen before and cannot seem to get enough of.

As Misty watches him, she realizes how heartbreakingly human he really is.  He may be a ghost, but he died a young college boy— with so much ahead of him and so much to look forward to.  Never in Misty’s life has she seen a more genuine smile, nor has she ever met anyone as charismatic as Harry. Try as she might to forget it, she knows her time with him is coming to an end and she hates it. But watching him interact with everyone around him, as charming as ever, she realizes that he genuinely needed this.  He needed to feel alive, to feel apart of something once again.

So Misty leans closer into him. He smiles down at her, looking so full of life and warmth. He reaches down, pulling the fuzzy red blanket covering both him and Misty up over her shoulders.  “You alright?” He asks softly.

Misty tilts her head, leaning up to press a peck to his nose. “I’m wonderful,” she replies quietly.

Harry grins down at her, and for a moment the two are lost in their own little world— looking into one another’s eyes as if the entire universe existed in them.  As if reading her mind, Harry gives Misty’s lips a soft kiss.  The kiss is tinged with sadness, of course, because the darker it gets outside the less time they know that they have together.  So he pulls away, bumping her nose with his.

“You sleepy?” He asks quietly.

And Misty knows exactly what he means. “Mhm.”

“Mm,” Harry hums. “Me too.”

He moves to rise to his feet to make a graceful exit with Misty. “Well,” he says, addressing the room. “Misty and I are going to go up to sleep now. I have to head back home pretty early tomorrow and—“

“You’re going to fuck,” Kennedy says, matter-of-factly.  Misty and Harry both gape at her, and she laughs.  “It’s alright! No shame in that.  We’re all adults here.”

Misty laughs nervously, and Harry remains calm and smug.  “You’re hilarious, Kennedy.  I think I’ll miss you most of all.”

Kennedy laughs, winking and pointing finger guns at Harry.  Misty rolls her eyes, but she’s giggling as she turns to exit.  Harry follows close behind her and Kennedy calls out, “Be safe! Use protection!”

Harry and Misty giggle the entire trip up the stairs, and as they approach Misty’s bedroom, she speaks quietly.  “Okay, but how are you feeling?  Like, energy wise.”

“Fine,” Harry says, and he honestly means it.

Misty glances at him like she doesn’t believe him, and he snorts.  “I promise, Misty.  I mean it.  I didn’t use that much tonight.”

She rolls her eyes, making her way over to her bed and sitting on the edge of it.  Harry closes the door behind him, still buzzing from the fun he’s had today, and a playful smile spreads across his face. He turns slowly on his heels, eyeing her mischievously.

She looks back, tensing up a bit as a smile spreads across her face.  “What…”

Harry growls playfully, bounding over to her and tackling her onto the bed before she can even say anything.  She squeals, giggling as she and Harry come tumbling down.   Harry attacks her face and her neck in kisses while squeezing at her hips, and she squeals.

“No!” She shrieks.  “What are you doing?!  NO!”

He growls, nipping at her cheeks before lifting his head and grinning down at her.  “Gimme kiss.”

“If I do, will you chill?” She giggles.

Harry makes a face, pretending to consider her words.  “Mm… maybe.”

She lifts her head slightly, pecking at his lips, and he shakes his head.  “Better than that,” he says.

She kisses him again, but he only repeats, “Better than that.”

Misty lets her head fall back again, mouth falling open as the most lovely laughs bubble out of her lips. Harry seizes this opportunity, leaning down and kissing her open mouth with a dimpled grin.

Misty’s giggles die down the minute their lips interlock, but the smile never leaves neither her nor Harry’s faces as they kiss.  Misty licks gently into Harry’s mouth, and he immediately grants her access, swirling his tongue against hers. He speaks between kisses.  “You’re--” kiss, “so--”  kiss, “beautiful.”

Misty rolls her eyes.  “No you are,” she says, and Harry kisses her before she’s even finished her sentence.

He chuckles.  “No you.”

“Nooo…”  She pecks at his nose.  “You.”

Harry snorts. “God we’re disgusting, huh?”

Misty hums, reaching up to brush a stray curl away from Harry’s face.  “Yeah.  Ew.”

He leans down, burying his face in her neck and sucking softly.  He feels her melt against him, squirming a bit as she lets out a long, humming sigh.  He smiles, lifting his head to press another kiss to her lips before speaking.  “I have an idea,” he says.

“Another one?  Do tell.”

“How about……”  Harry sing-songs,  “One more orgasm for you.  As a parting treat.”

“Hmm…” Misty muses.  “Only one?”

Harry snorts.  “Or two.  Or… however many you want.”

“How many do you want to give me?”  Misty scratches lovingly behind Harry’s ear.

“Oh sunshine,’ Harry says,  “If I had my way I would never stop.”

Blood rushes to Misty’s cheeks and ears, but she tries to hide it.  Harry only laughs again, thumbing at her cheek.  “Gonna miss that.”

“What?”

“How easy it is to get you hot.”

Misty rolls her eyes, but she laughs.  “You’re an idiot.”

“Gonna miss that, too.  Love when you insult me.”

“Oh my god.”  Misty shakes her head.  “Just shut up and kiss me.”

Harry hums.  “With pleasure, sweet girl.”

They continue kissing for a bit as Harry undresses Misty gently.  He loves on every inch of her body, reveling in every single reaction he gets out of her. He tries to remember every detail that he can, and everything about the evening they’re sharing.  And when he makes her cum, four separate times, he savours her taste, her smell, and the noises she makes as best as he can-- without making himself even sadder than he is.  He knows she feels the same, noticing the way she continuously glances at him with more love in his eyes than he’s seen in a long time.

After hours of messing around with her, loving on one another’s bodies and sharing giggles and playful kisses, they realize it’s time to go to bed.  They undress one another, and Harry helps her remove her makeup-- which makes them both laugh the entire time.

When they find themselves in bed together, stroking lovingly at one another’s faces, they realize that they can’t run from the inevitable anymore. Their time together has been reduced to only hours, and there is nothing they can do about it at all.

“I’m going to miss you,” Misty says, tracing his features in the darkness.  “Have I told you that already?”

Harry laughs softly.  “Maybe once or twice,” he admits.  “But I’m going to miss you more.”

Misty sighs, kissing his lips gently.  “Promise to come visit my dreams as much as you possibly can?”

Harry leans into her touch, tilting his head to kiss the palm of her hand.  “I promise.”

“I don’t want to fall asleep.” She looks on the verge of tears, and Harry wishes there was something he could do to stop her.  At this point, however, he knows it’s inevitable.  So he tries to make her smile.

“You need to,” he says.  “Humans need sleep.”

“Maybe,” she says.  “But I need you more.”

“That’s not true, baby. You know it’s not.”  Harry strokes a spot just in front of her temple-- a spot he’s noticed over the past month that relaxes her more than anything else.  As if on cue, she yawns.

“Listen to me.  You are meant to live your life, sweet girl.  You are meant to be happy, and grow old.  Promise me you will.”  She frowns at him, but he doesn’t allow it.  “Promise me, baby.”

“I promise,” she whispers.  Harry smiles.

“Say it like you mean it.”

“I promise Harry,” she whispers, blinking against the sleep in her eyes.  “But I also promise that when you return, I will be waiting.”

“That’s fine.  You can wait.  But do not let it stop you from living.  You hear me?  Please don’t. I would give anything to live my life again.”

Misty yawns again, finally giving in to the heaviness of her eyelids and closing her eyes. She leans into him.  “I promise.  I’ll live every day in your honor, Harry.”

“Yeah?”

She smiles sleepily, still not opening her eyes.

Harry watches her, taking in every last detail of her sleepy face.  He can feel himself fading, but she doesn’t seem to notice, so he says nothing.  He ignores the pressure building behind his eyes, swearing to himself that he’s not going to cry.

Misty is also fading fast, succumbing more and more to sleep by the second.  Harry knows it’s going to be a hard year without her, but he takes comfort knowing she is surrounded by people who love her.

And it also doesn’t hurt that he plans on haunting Josh’s dreams so that he leaves Misty the fuck alone.

He smiles softly, completely unable to stop the tear from leaking from his eye.  He’s grateful that Misty’s eyes are closed, and he presses the slowest, most gentle kiss to her forehead.

“I love you, miss Misty.”

Without opening her eyes, Misty speaks with a distant, sleepy voice.  “I love you too, Harry.”

Harry replays that moment in his head for the next few hours, reveling in the way those words sounded coming out of her mouth.

And when Misty wakes in the morning, Harry is gone.

[osferth]

the haunting of cookham house: chapter 1

summary: In the midst of an exhausting flat search, newlyweds Sophia and Anjali Abbot suddenly inherit a large country house miles away in the serene village of Cookham. It proves to be much more than the couple bargained for, however, when they arrive to find it already occupied... by nine ancient ghosts.

tagging: @lauwrite1225​ @maggiescarborough @morosemagick @solinarimoon @lannisterdaddyissues @firexfate @93xdiagonxalley @aadmelioraa @emilyhufflepufftlk

“Won’t be long now,” murmured Finan.

The laboured breaths of the elderly woman began to slow as the ghosts grouped around her bed watched over almost reverently.

“She had a good life,” Uhtred said quietly.

“At least she’s comfortable,” Sihtric added.

“Yeah, there are worse ways to go,” Osferth pointed out, gesturing to the arrow lodged in his chest. There was a mumbled chorus of assent amongst the ghosts before Hild shushed them all.

“Quiet,” she hissed.

“I think it’s happening,” said Father Beocca. “Look.”

Silence finally fell as a bright light began to emanate from the woman’s body, Beocca making a sign of the cross as her spirit rose up to face them all. “Who are you?” she asked.

Everyone immediately looked toward Uhtred, who for some reason was still considered their unofficial leader despite being… well, dead.

“I was once the lord of the village you call Cookham,” he began ostentatiously, “true Lord of Bebbanburg and a warrior with great reputation, now forced to wander the lands where I was slain as a ghost for all eterni-”

“And she’s gone,” finished Father Pyrlig unceremoniously.

“This always happens,” muttered Uhtred, staring at the patterned wallpaper before him. “I do not understand.”

Pyrlig shrugged. “Yeah, well, the rest of us do.”

“I have always thought not everyone seems to enjoy your speeches as much as you think,” commented Skade, appearing suddenly behind Osferth and making him jump.

“I wish you wouldn’t do that all the time,” he grumbled.

“Oh, honestly!” snapped Hild suddenly, glaring at all of them. “The woman has barely passed on! At the very least, we should show some respect.”

Father Beocca nodded. “The abbess is right. I shall say a prayer for her soul.” He cleared his throat slightly before beginning. “Our Lord in Heaven…”

Finan leaned across to Sihtric. “Bagsie her room,” he whispered over the prayer, to which the Dane only rolled his eyes.

“Amen,” said Beocca finally.

“Amen,” chorused the ghosts, Finan a little louder and later than the rest. With nothing more to add, silence returned for a brief moment until it was broken by Osferth.

“I wonder what’ll happen to this place once she’s taken away.”

Pyrlig looked sideways at him. “Well, I imagine someone else will move in,” he said dryly.

“All of you!” said Hild exasperatedly. “Please! Her body is still warm, for goodnessʼ sake.”

Looking appropriately chastised, Osferth looked down at the floor. “Perhaps one of us should say a few words,” he suggested. 

“I shall do it,” said Uhtred immediately, straightening up. “As the lord of Cookham, I…” 

“And he's off again,” muttered Pyrlig, shaking his head as he left the room. The other ghosts quickly followed suit amid murmurs and eye rolls, although Uhtred did not notice as his speech grew more passionate and heartfelt. 

“Who will be the one to reclaim this as their home?” he sighed finally, looking through the window at the overgrown front garden. 

~~

“Um… let’s take a look at the view, shall we?”

The estate agent led Sophia over to the window with an apologetic look on his face, Anjali trailing slightly behind with about as much enthusiasm as you would expect when buying a cramped, one-bedroom flat in the middle of nowhere. 

Peering over Sophia’s shoulder, she was greeted with the scenic image of a local chip shop sandwiched between a defunct barber shop and a Londis. Just on time, an old poster tacked onto the front door swung off one corner and was quickly carried down the street by a gust of wind.

“Well,” began Sophia uncertainly, “at least we won’t have to go far for groceries. Or fish and chips.”

“I don’t like fish or chips,” Anjali muttered.

Sophia squinted at the shop sign. “They also do kebabs,” she suggested, although she did not sound too keen.

“I’ll leave you two to have a chat in here,” said the estate agent tactfully. “Just give me a shout when you’re ready, alright?”

Anjali watched him disappear into the kitchen before turning to her wife. “I do like kebabs, I s’pose,” she conceded. Sophia smiled slightly, but before she could reply, her phone started buzzing.

“Hang on, I’ll just… hello?”

“Hello, is this Sophia Abbot?” asked a slightly-garbled male voice.

“Speaking,” she replied.

“I’m calling about a house.”

“We’re only looking at flats, we can’t afford to buy a house.”

“This one’s not for sale.”

Sophia frowned. “Well then, why are you calling?” she snapped, ending the call. God. Some estate agents really were the worst-

Her phone buzzed again before she could have a chance to think. Still irritated, she picked it up but did not answer.

“Sorry, I think we got off on the wrong foot,” said the same man quickly. “I’m a solicitor at Willard and Phillips and I’m calling to inform you that you have, in fact, inherited a house.”

~~

The moments after that were a blur for Sophia and, after being informed of the news, for Anjali, too. Their estate agent simply seemed relieved to not have to accompany the couple on visits to flats that had, quite frankly, seen better days.

An appointment was scheduled for the very next morning. It all felt wildly surreal to Anjali and particularly Sophia, who was baffled upon being informed that the previous owner of the beautiful Cookham property was actually a distant great-aunt… or something along those lines, anyway. Even the solicitor seemed to be having trouble connecting the two, but as there was no other living relative, the house was legally Sophia’s. 

Unable to contain their excitement, they promptly called off the flat search and decided to move in that same afternoon. Neither of them were familiar with Cookham, but the further they drove through the more they grew to love the village. With its gorgeous landscapes and old-fashioned architecture, Sophia and Anjali felt only enthusiastic to be able to call this place home.

“Feels like we’ve gone back in time, doesn’t it?” Anjali sighed, gazing out of the window.

“Yeah,” smiled Sophia, “it’s nothing like Croydon.”

Anjali consulted her phone, reading through the Wikipedia entry on Cookham. “It’s got a lot of history to it,” she said. “Listen to this: ‘By the 8th century there was an Anglo-Saxon abbey in Cookham and one of the later abbesses was-” sorry, no idea how to pronounce that- ‘widow of King Offa of Mercia.’ It’s still there, I think. We could visit at some point!”

“8th century,” repeated Sophia. “Bloody hell, it’s ancient, isn’t it?”

“Ooh, look: ‘It became the centre of a power struggle between Mercia and Wessex. Later King Alfred made Sashes Island one of his-’ er, berrs? Boors? Dunno- ‘to help defend against Viking invaders.’ This is so cool!”

“Is there anything a bit more recent?” Sophia asked. 

Anjali rolled her eyes, skimming over the rest of the article.

“Nothing interesting… ooh, except,” she snickered, “a ‘Miss Isabella Fleming in 1869, who wanted to stop nude bathing at Odney.’”

Sophia snorted. “What?”

“Yeah, there is zero elaboration on that one.”

“Shame.”

~~

“That yellow wagon’s given me an awful headache,” Finan complained, rubbing his head. 

Brida looked disdainfully at him. “That’s not possible,” she said flatly. “You’re dead. And I believe they called it an ambulance last week.”

“Well, I would’ve had a headache if I was still alive,” muttered Finan. 

Beocca sighed. “I am beginning to miss her already.”

Uhtred nodded, although the other ghosts suspected that had more to do with her being an indirect relative of his rather than him having any actual interest in her as a person. It was taken for granted that he continued to behave as though he still had ownership over the cottage - and indeed the village itself - even if he was because he was physically unable to leave it.

A creak sounded from the far corner of the room suddenly, startling most of the ghosts. Skade looked up from her seat by the table, a vase slightly out of place, as she met them all with narrowed eyes. 

Thoroughly unsettled, Uhtred and all three of his men turned around without a word. Brida shook her head at all of them and marched off to sit beside Skade. Their relationship had been rocky at first, certainly characterised by animosity while they were still alive, but spending over a millennium together had softened it somewhat. It was more to do with the fact that nobody else, other than Hild and sometimes Osferth, tended to visit the lake she haunted. While Brida spent the most time at the lake, Hild had started venturing out to visit every so often, her hatred of the seer lessening as her curiosity grew. Osferth’s visits were still rare, however, given that he remained wracked with guilt. 

“I wonder-”

“Who will come to reclaim this place as their home,” Pyrlig said, interrupting the former Lord of Bebbanburg, “yes, we wonder that too.”

Despite their respect for him, Finan and Osferth snickered.

“Well,” said Hild, “I don’t think we’ll have to wonder for much longer.” She waved all of them over to where she was standing by the window, Brida being the last to get there - the last they looked, Skade remained in her seat.

Standing near the back, Osferth suddenly felt a presence on his left. He jolted upon seeing the seer standing only inches away, smirking. 

“Y’know, I’m beginning to think you enjoy this,” he grumbled.

“Looks a bit like that medical wagon, doesn’t it?” Finan commented, watching the car pull into the driveway.

“Ambulance,” Brida supplied flatly.

“I don’t think that’s an ambulance, Brida,” said Uhtred wisely, blind to the dirty look she gave him.

Hild shushed them as two women climbed out. One was considerably shorter and clad in an oversized jumper and jogging bottoms. Her skin was brown and her hair dark and wavy, curling over her shoulders. The other was slightly taller, dressed in jeans and a lilac knitted jumper. She was dark-skinned and her curly hair was pulled back, away from her face. Her arm was around the other woman’s shoulders as both gazed in awe up at the house.

~~

“I think - this is it!” Sophia announced, slowing down as the car bumped over the gravelled drive. “Oh, wow.”

Parking the car, she turned the ignition off and opened the door to let herself out, taking in the sight of the grand house before them.

“It’s even prettier than in the photos,” Anjali sighed dreamily. “And it’s all ours.”

“I still can’t believe it,” said Sophia, breaking her gaze from the house to look at her wife. 

Anjali beamed, pressing a little kiss to her lips. “Well, shall we?” she said, offering Sophia her arm. Sophia smiled and hooked her arm in Anjali’s, the two of them making their way over to the door. 

As she turned the key in the lock, she felt a strange sensation from above, almost as though she was being watched. 

Anjali shook her arm a little. “You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” she said quickly, “it’s nothing.” Shaking her head, she pushed the door open. 

~~

“Did you see that!” Finan exclaimed, watching the young couple before them briefly kiss before disappearing under the doorframe.

“I think we all did,” said Osferth dryly. 

“Times have changed,” Uhtred said thoughtfully. 

Sihtric rolled his eyes. “Have they?” 

He was the only one who noticed the way Brida had begun looking longingly towards Skade, the seer seemingly having tired of tormenting Osferth for once. 

“Well, it’s been a thousand years,” Father Pyrlig pointed out snidely, missing what was going on. “Obviously they have. Jesus.”

Clearly in a rush to get a closer look at the people who had ‘reclaimed his home’, Uhtred quickly left the room - prompting the other ghosts to follow.

“He was never one for patience, was he?” huffed Father Beocca as they descended the stairs. 

Hild raised her eyebrows momentarily. “I’m afraid not.”

~~

“How old did they say the actual house was?” Sophia inquired, peering over Anjali’s shoulder at her phone. 

“Er… oh, yeah, here! It was built in 1808 and renovated in 1953.”

Sophia grinned. “Reckon it’s haunted, then?” 

“Probably,” Anjali said, all-too serious. Out of the two, she was the believer - Sophia was the staunch sceptic. Anything even slightly out of the ordinary terrified Anjali, from flickering lights to objects moving without cause, while Sophia always had a rational explanation handy. Perhaps it was a good thing, then, that this fear did not extend to spiders - those were Sophia’s weakness. 

The chess board was what caught Sophia’s eye first. “This is so cool,” she murmured, leaning over to pick up a pawn. Upon seeing that it was coated in a thin layer of dust, however, she pulled away. As she did so, she felt a strange sensation course across her forearm, almost as though a cold breeze had blown its way over. Ever the sceptic, she assumed there was a window open nearby and thought nothing of it. 

~~

Finan shuddered, backing away from the chess board. “God, I’d forgotten how awful that feels.” 

Pyrlig rolled his eyes from where he was standing a safe distance away.

~~

Just as Anjali was about to collapse onto the couch with the golden-gilded legs she had been eyeing for several minutes, Sophia pulled her away.

“It’s all dusty down here,” she explained, her voice muffled by the hand she was using to cover her nose. “Let’s dump our stuff upstairs and take a look around.”

“Won’t it be dusty upstairs, too?” Anjali dubiously pointed out.

“Nah, they'll have cleaned the bedrooms out at least,” said Sophia, “‘cos the last owner died up there.”

Anjali stared at her. “What?” she exploded. “Which one? I don’t want to sleep in the same room where someone died, what if-”

“It won’t be haunted,” Sophia quickly reassured her, “‘cos we’re not gonna stay in that room, not if it scares you that much. Ghosts aren’t real either way, so... you’ll be alright.”

“Agree to disagree,” mumbled Anjali, letting Sophia lead her upstairs anyway. As she left, she felt the uncomfortable sensation of being watched. It could have been simple paranoia, as Sophia would explain it away as, or it could have been something Anjali did not even want to consider - but either way, she was beginning to understand exactly why old houses gave some people the creeps.

[fanficimagery]

A Baby Spark

Imagine it being almost two years since you've seen your family. You've been through some changes since you've been gone and you're surprised at how well your family just seems to roll with the punches. Then again your little sister is exactly how you remember her either.

Words: 8.7K Author's Note: I'm a weakass bitch who loves a good crossover. Hopefully I did these two fandoms some justice. I'm warning you right now there's a little violence in here.

Pacing in front of the couch out back in the studio, Julie opens her mouth to say something but snaps it shut and shakes her head as she mumbles to herself. For about ten minutes now she's been like this and Luke, Reggie, and Alex can only stare at her with dread slowly creeping in.

"Is she having a breakdown or something?" Reggie asks quietly, eyes following her back and forth. "I've never seen her like this."

"I don't know, but I'm starting to feel queasy," Alex says.

Luke rolls his eyes. "It's Julie. It's nothing bad," he says. "We all know she works herself up over nothing."

"Okay!" All three boys startle, jumping in their seats and practically clinging to one another. When they realize what they've done, they quickly let go and attempt to act cool. "So my sister is coming down for a visit and dad thinks we should ease her into the secret of you guys being ghosts."

"Your sister?" Alex wonders, intrigued. "She finally got in touch?"

"Yeah." Julie slowly smiles. "She, uh, she sounded weird on the phone. Really emotional. But she said she's ready to be home for a bit."

"Well you said you haven't seen each other face to face in almost two years," Reggie says. "It's understandable that she'd be emotional."

"True." Julie shrugs. "Anyway, you guys need to remember no vanishing into thin air or appearing from thin air while in the same room as her. We can't have her asking questions until we're ready to tell her."

"I think we can handle that." Luke nods, looking at the boys. "At least I'm pretty sure we can."

Alex nudges him, scoffing. "Of course we can."

"Okay. Good. Because she's going to be here any minute now."

"WHAT?!"

"I thought we had more time!"

"Aw man," Reggie whines. "What do I wear?"

          - - - - - - - - - - 

You pull up to your childhood home about twenty minutes after the sun has set, excited to see your family and the boys who had reintroduced your baby sister to music after your mom had passed. You'd been keeping up with her via social media and was shocked to see her performing with holograms. Something about the holograms didn't quite add up, but you didn't question it seeing as your sister was thriving with her newfound friendships.

You've barely shut the door to your rented vehicle when the front door swings open, and your baby brother and baby sister are barreling down the porch. You laugh at their enthusiasm, opening your arms wide and bracing yourself for the impact. The moment they hit you, you bring your arms down around them. "Oh my god. You guys have grown so much!"

"Well that's what happens when you don't visit. We grow up."

"Carlos!" Julie quickly reprimands him. She then glances up at you, chuckling nervously. "He didn't mean that."

"Of course he did," you muse. "He's a Molina. And it's not like he's wrong."

But your sister isn't having it. "You had valid excuses- school and then you were really sick that one time. It's okay."

Sick, you mentally scoff, if only it were that simple.

"Right. Well I'm home now and I plan to visit whenever I can in the future," you say. Carlos and Julie beam at you. "So come on. I'm starving and I really want to see dad and meet these phantoms."

Carlos releases you and immediately turns to run back inside, and Julie latches onto your arm as she walks side-by-side with you. The closer you get to the porch, the more a faint scent on the air tickles your nose. Then once on the porch, it's a little bit stronger and it has you tensing.

Julie notices as she continues to walk, only to be pulled back from where she's still connected to you. "What's wrong?"

Staring off the side where you know the gate is for the backyard, your nostrils slightly flare, but at the sound of Julie's voice you close your eyes and shake your head to clear it. "Nothing. I'm fine," you mumble. "I just- I thought I smelled burning wire or something." Looking forward and then towards your sister, you chuckle. "My roommate started a fire a couple weeks back. It's made me paranoid ever since."

The lie comes a little too easily and you feel guilty. But then Julie snorts, you breathe a little easier, and then the two of you make the rest of the way inside the house. The smell of home makes your shoulders sag and feel like a weight's been lifted off of you. You glance around the living room, smiling softly at various touches you knew your mother added and the fact that your dad's kept them as reminders of the love of his life. There are three familiar, yet unfamiliar at the same time, faces sitting together on the couch. They stare at you, hesitant expressions on their faces until you smile and wave at them. The boy in a leather jacket is the first to smile back, waving, followed by the blonde and the shaggy haired brunette.

"That's Reggie, Alex, and Luke," Julie introduces them to you. "Guys, this is my older sister Y/N."

"Hey guys, it's nice to finally meet you face to face."

"Likewise," Alex says. "Julie's told us so much about you."

"Aw." You let go of Julie's arm just to wrap it around her head, she immediately struggling to get out of the headlock you put her in. You laugh, tugging on her curls. "You talk about me? Am I the cool older sister? You love me that much?" You tease her.

"Get. Off." Julie tries to shove you off, but the two of you just end up falling to the floor.

"Alright. Girl fight!" Reggie cheers. "I got money on the older Molina."

"I don't know," Alex muses. "Jules can be pretty feisty."

"Pft. No way." Carlos scoffs. "Y/N has this in the bag."

"How are you so freakishly strong?" Julie complains. "Did you start working out or something?"

"Or something," you laugh.

There's a sigh that has you looking up instantly. "You would think that my college-aged daughter would be adult enough to not wrestle her younger siblings on the floor."

"Dad!" Immediately you abandon your sister, flicking her forehead once for good measure, before launching yourself at your dad. "You're lookin' healthy, old man. The younger crotch goblins keeping you in line?"

"Hey!"

The boys laugh at Julie and Carlos' simultaneous shouts, and you wink at them before squeezing your dad a little bit longer. "How was the drive, mija?"

"It was fine," you say. "Long. And now I'm just ready to chow down."

"You have perfect timing then. The stew is ready, but now we're just waiting on Reggie's rolls to come out of the oven."

You dramatically gasp as you look towards the boy in question. "Not only is he cute, but he bakes too? Julie, you better husband that one up."

Two out of the three boys laugh as the other one frowns, and Julie rolls her eyes. "Shut up." Then looking out towards the group, she says, "Someone come help me set the table."

Your dad and Carlos head into the kitchen behind Julie, and you walk over towards the couch to sit on the armrest nearest Luke. Putting a hand on his shoulder, you squeeze. "Don't frown, biceps. I totally ship you and my sister. The two of you just ooze chemistry and I find it utterly adorable."

Alex groans. "Please don't say ooze again."

"Ooze," you deadpan. You look Alex in the eye. "Ooze. Ooze."

His nose wrinkles. "So you're the evil Molina. I know who Carlos takes after now."

All four of you chuckle and fall into a comfortable silence. However, as you sit there, you realize something odd. Everyone, human or not, has a scent. But these three boys next to you? There's no hint of B.O or cologne. Nothing. You frown as you stare at each one, at how human they appear to be, but before you can notice anything else your dad's calling out.

"Dinner's ready!"

You quickly paste on a smile as Luke and Reggie rush towards the kitchen. Alex sighs. "I would say sorry on their behalf, but then I'd be saying sorry the entire duration you're here because it's just how they are."

"I get it," you chuckle softly. "I have a friend like that. Stiles. He's- he's a lot to handle sometimes."

Dinner is quite the affair and you can't help but be in awe with how these three boys have brought life back into your home. When your mom passed, it was like the life was sucked out of everyone. There were no smiles, there was no laughing, and everyone seemed to lose interest in something. You almost didn't go back to school, instead choosing to look after Julie and Carlos, but from one day to the next it was like your dad snapped out of his grief and started looking after the kids again. So you went back to school, kept up with your schoolwork, got.. sick, and finally had enough strength to visit your family. You wanted it to be a happy family reunion, so you'll be damned if three charming boys took advantage of your family.

The following day is spent with just your family and a brief visit made by Flynn, but throughout the entire day you can't help but notice something is off. Every now and then it feels like the temperature drops or you have an overwhelming feeling of being watched or you catch Julie mumbling towards nothing but thin air. Your little sister acts highly suspicious, but she plays it off every time you call attention to it.

On your third day home, however, your family's been out grocery shopping when you decide to visit your mom's studio. It's the first time you've gone out back since you've been home, so of course the scent that first put you on edge hits you full force. Annoyance immediately sets in and you follow the musky scent which leads you to the studio. Hearing voices inside makes you freeze and you tilt your head to get a better listen.

The three voices are Luke, Reggie, and Alex, and while that should be weird since no one is home.. it's not the oddest thing. The oddest thing is that while you can hear them talking and the hum of their amps, that's all you hear. No heartbeats.

Pulling open the door, all three boys look like deer caught in headlights. "Hey, boys." You quirk an eyebrow at them, walking in and taking a little pleasure in watching them squirm. "Whatcha up to out here?"

"Oh, um," Alex stammers, "R-Ray lets us practice out here whenever we want."

"Mhm." You glance at Reggie, his demeanor entirely too soft to threaten. Instead you glance at Luke and realize he'll be the one revving for a fight if you go after the other two. So you set your sights on him. "I'm sure my mom would have adored you boys." Walking around Luke, you step close and trail a finger along the strap of his guitar. "Well at least she would have adored whatever it is you boys are." The boys all seem to cease breathing and quick as lightning you grab a fistful of Luke's shirt and bring his face close to yours. "So tell me, Luke, what are you?"

His eyes blow wide. "W-What? I'm a d-dude. Human!"

"Wrong answer." Eyes flash gold and you can feel the teeth in your mouth shifting. Luke seems to lose what little color he had left in his cheeks. "You have no scent. You have no heartbeat! So tell me what you are."

Luke gapes at you until all of a sudden he completely vanishes out of your grip. You growl, eyes darting all over the place.

"What am I? What the hell are you?!"

You whirl around, snarling, and startling all three boys. All three are gaping, staring wide-eyed as they take in the full picture of what you are. Of what you had to become. "Why are you messing with my family?"

You're so caught up with the boys that you're not listening to your senses and completely miss the fact that your family has gotten home. You're caught off guard as Julie walks through the studio door and you take a step back as Julie's erratic heart nearly makes you whine.

"I- what?" She mutters. You exhale shakily and you can feel your face shifting back to normal. "Y/N?"

"I can explain," you tell her softly. She stares at you, fear wafting off of her and making your nose itch. "But first your boys need to come clean. They're not exactly what they look like." All four- FOUR!- suddenly fidget nervously and your eyes narrow. "But you already knew that, didn't you?"

She numbly nods her head. "Yes. Dad and Carlos too. B-But it's nothing as crazy as whatever is going on with you." She gulps. "Which, by the way, what- what even are you?"

You sigh, backing up until you're plopping down onto an armchair. You gesture to the couch across from you and watch as the three boys keep themselves between you and Julie until they're all on the couch. "Remember when I was sick? And the doctor said I had a fifty-fifty chance of surviving?"

She frowns. "Yeah. But what-"

"He was lying to you. I didn't have a fifty-fifty chance. I was going to die. No ifs, ands, or buts about it."

"How would you know that?"

"Because my roommate could smell death on me," you say. Julie, Luke, Reggie, and Alex all blink at you. "The thing you need to know, Jules, is that pretty much every supernatural creature we grew up reading about is real."

Alex gulps. "Witches?" You nod.

"Vampires?" Luke starts to grin. You nod again.

"Werewolves?" Reggie wonders, awe already filling his features.

You glance at him and flash your eyes. "What do you think I am?" You muse. His eyes widen, but then a smile breaks out and you breathe a little easier. At least he won't be running from you. "Anyway, she literally smelled me rotting from the inside out. So when she really grew concerned, she went to one of her alphas and told him what was going on with me."

"Wait. One of her alphas?"

"Yeah." You shrug. "It's a whole pack, the Hale-McCall pack. There's two alphas within the ranks and instead of protecting one little town they decided to spread out. Scott protects Beacon Hills since that's where he lives and Derek came down south to expand our territory. We're kind of all spread out in California with two ally packs further up north."

"Okay so this is all interesting, but how does that explain how or why you changed?" Julie asks.

"Oh. Right." You sigh. "Well Cora- my roommate- didn't want me to die. She came to me and asked me that if there was a cure of sorts, a way that only granted me a fifty-fifty chance of survival rather than a hundred percent death, if I would take it. I asked for more of an explanation and she showed me what she was while explaining more about the supernatural world. So I said I wanted the cure. And then I met her brother Derek."

"Who and what is Derek?" Your sister asks.

"A werewolf. An alpha werewolf to be exact," you tell your audience. "Only the bite of an alpha werewolf can turn someone, but at that it's only a fifty-fifty chance. So I took it since it was more of a chance than I originally had and I became a beta werewolf."

"Is this why you stayed away?"

"I had to. Turning isn't as simple as it sounds. I had to learn control and I had to learn to protect myself. I might be stronger and faster and not entirely human, but there are people out there who train to kill people like me. It wasn't safe for any of us if I were to come so soon after becoming a werewolf."

Julie nervously shifts. "And it's safe now?"

"Yeah. We have some friends in the Hunter community, and Scott and Derek have been working hard to mend bridges between everyone. Since Derek approves of my control, he said it was okay for me to come."

Luke huffs. "You call this control? You attacked me."

"Can you blame me?" You raise an eyebrow at him. "I came home to find three individuals with no scent or no heartbeat practically living with my family, and the scent of another werewolf around my childhood home where my very human family still lives. What was I supposed to do?"

"Wait, what?" Julie's eyes blow wide. "There's been a werewolf around us?"

"Yeah. And speaking of," you say, "since these three appear to not be the culprits, has there been anyone hanging around? Staring longingly or just giving off the creepiest of vibes? The scent was maybe a few days old, but it's definitely werewolf."

Your sister shivers and crosses her arms over her chest as if to hug herself. "Not that I noticed."

You glance at the boys and all three shake their heads. "Keep an eye out then. That's kind of suspicious." Everyone nods. You inhale and then exhale deeply, looking at each individual. But as no one says anything, you lightly clear your throat. "So is anyone going to tell me what you three are or..?"

"Oh!" Julie leans forward, smiling softly. "Ghosts."

"Ghosts?"

"Ghosts!" Reggie disappears from his spot on the couch and reappears at your side. You faintly startle, but he still sees it and chuckles. "We kind of kicked the bucket about twenty six years ago now."

Luke sighs. "Street dogs, man. We can never look at them the same way ever again."

You snort and then slap a hand over your mouth as you stare at the boys with wide eyes. "I am so sorry. I didn't mean to laugh."

"Don't even worry about it," Alex says. "We've had some time to get over it and well now we have this cool gig with Julie so it's fine."

"Well either way I'm sorry you guys died, but I'm stoked you came into my family's life when you did."

The three boys beam, but Julie leans forward. "You know you have to tell dad, right? This is something dad needs to know."

"I know." You frown. "I just- how do I tell dad I'm not exactly human anymore?"

"Together." Julie smiles sadly at you. "We'll tell him together."

After calling an emergency family meeting the previous night, telling your dad and baby brother that werewolves existed was possibly the hardest thing you had to do. Out of the two of them, Carlos was most excited about all the new information you were offering up. But your dad, however, had a brief breakdown when you explained that you were literally going to die unless you had taken the bite from a werewolf. It had taken you almost ten minutes to calm him down, but you only made it a little bit worse when you told him there were rules now that the family knew the supernatural world existed.

Your dad and Carlos had tons of questions, and by the time dinner rolled around Ray just called in several pizzas so they could continue to grill you. Eventually things had settled and everyone went their separate ways to shower and get some sleep.

Then the day after that, you spend the day watching Julie and the boys rehearse because they got a last minute gig this coming Friday night. Even when they're goofing off they play amazingly and you praise them every moment you can. You're so caught up with your family and the boys that everything else is pushed to the back of your mind. And that's where it stays until after Julie and the Phantoms' performance three days later.

It's approaching midnight when you get home, you having rode with your family to and back from the club. It was the most fun you had in awhile, standing directly in front of the stage and screaming the lyrics back at your sister and Luke as they performed. And when you get home you and Julie are still singing along to one of her songs as you walk towards the front door, only to stumble to a halt when the scent of werewolf hits you full force.

"Mija, what's going on?"

"Shh!" You push Julie towards your dad and walk closer to the front door, eyes narrowing at the fact that it's cracked open when it should be locked. You put your nose close to the gap of the opened door and inhale deeply, eyes glowing gold in anger. There's a loud thump from inside and you whirl around to face your dad. He tenses as he eyes the fangs peeking from between your lips. "Get back in the car," you growl. "Do not get out until I come get you."

"Mija-"

"Do you understand?" You growl again, cutting him off. Your dad gulps and quickly nods, grabbing ahold of Carlos and Julie's hands to rush them away.

When you hear the car doors slam shut, the rummaging from inside your house stops. So before whoever is inside can flee, you brace yourself and walk inside. Slamming the door behind you, you open up your senses to tell you who or what is inside with you.

There's a warning growl from up above you and you snarl in response, not taking kindly to being warned off in your own home. Suddenly there are footsteps rushing towards the staircase and you lunge for them, bounding up the steps a few at a time. You meet the werewolf on the stairs, roaring at the sight of electric blue eyes glaring at you. He tries to leap over you, but you catch him by the ankle and tug him down with all your strength.

He's taller than you and more solid than you originally thought, so you mentally curse yourself when you can hear the staircase creak and crack as you fall down the stairs with him. Taking a boot to the gut, you swing out to claw him down his thigh. You draw first blood, but then the werewolf rounds on you with his teeth and claws bared. He lunges, catching you around the waist and slams your back down on the stairs. You grunt in pain, punching and clawing, but only earn a set of claws being dragged down the side of your face in return.

You hear him grunt, followed by a large crack, and your eyes fly open wide when you feel a thin pole from the wooden bannister be shoved into your gut. You roar out, completely shocked at this wolf's aggressiveness, and your saving grace comes in the form of three ghosts.

Alex, Luke, and Reggie pop in, startling the werewolf hovering above you. Their exclamations of pure joy quickly turn to ones of surprise and fear, and you use this brief reprieve to summon all your rage and push back. Once your feet are back beneath you, you shove the wolf back and against a wall. One hand goes around his throat and you use the other to shove your claws into his gut.

"What.. do you want.. with my family?" You ask, shoving your claws in deeper with each pause. The werewolf growls and easily overpowers you, shoving you back and fleeing through the back door.

When you get back to your feet, you attempt to run after him but Reggie rushes in front of you. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! Where do you think you're going?!"

"Reg, get out of my way," you seethe.

"Nope. No way. In case you haven't noticed, you've been impaled!" His hands flail in the direction of your abdomen. "Shouldn't you like go to the hospital or something?"

"I'll heal." You grab the wooden pole protruding from your body, grasping it tightly and yanking it free.

Reggie gags and you let it drop, only to then be approached by Luke." Y/N, where's Jules? And Carlos and your dad?"

At the mention of your family, the haze of rage starts to fade. You breathe deeply, letting the aches and pain take over as your features shift back to normal. "They're in the car," you say. "Can you go get them? I need to check upstairs to see what that asshole was doing."

"For sure."

As Luke poofs away, you turn back towards the stairs and make your way up them. You follow the scent of werewolf and when you find where it leads your rage comes back ten-fold. Shoving your way in Julie's room, you snarl when you find the strange scent by her dresser, in her closet, and on her bed. You catch whiffs of his scent on random items and you tense when there's a shout of your name from downstairs.

Realizing it's only your dad, you give yourself a moment to make sure you have yourself under control before making your way downstairs. "I'm sorry about the staircase," you say. "I'll call someone in the morning to come estimate the damages and fix it." Everyone is oddly quiet and when you meet their gazes, you see half are on your face and the other are on your stomach. "Relax. It'll heal."

"Will it?" Ray asks. He walks forward, gently cupping your face and angling it so he can get a better look.

"Yeah. It's already stopped bleeding. Now all they gotta do is close up."

"Okay." Your dad gulps. "Did you- did you figure out what was going on?"

"Some rogue werewolf," you tell him. "Normally I wouldn't worry because it's normal for a werewolf to scope out another werewolf in their territory, but this one was only in Julie's room. He didn't go near mine. Something's up."

Luke wraps an arm around Julie's shoulder as she gasps and Ray worriedly glances at his daughter. Carlos steps up on Julie's other side, grabbing her hand and looking every bit determined to keep her safe.

"What can we do?" Luke asks.

"Well for starters," you sigh, "everyone can take a chill pill. Go change, go shower, and go to sleep. I'll clean up and I'll call in reinforcements. I hope you guys are ready to meet my alpha."

"Are you sure, mija?" Your dad asks.

"Yeah. I'm too amped up to do anything other than keep watch and my alpha is necessary since this rogue werewolf easily overpowered me. I'm still new to this whole supernatural business, so it's better if someone more experienced comes in."

Ray and Carlos hesitantly make their way towards the stairs, but as Julie moves she makes a lunge for you. Her arms wrap around you and yours her, and you rub the side of your jaw along her temple. "You're going to be okay," you mumble. "Trust me."

"I do."

Luke and Reggie readily follow your family upstairs, but Alex lingers. You look at him, smiling softly. "Are you sure you're okay?" He asks. "You literally had a pole sticking out of your stomach."

"I'm fine, Al." You lift up your shirt, showing him the barely there hole. "See? It's closing. The healing process is just a little slow for me because I'm a bitten werewolf, not born."

"Oh. Okay. Cool." His hands go into his pockets as he glances around the room nervously. "So do you want some company?"

"Sure." You chuckle softly. "But first, I have a call to make."

Alex follows you into the kitchen where you lean tiredly against the island counter, putting your phone down on the counter top as you look for a specific contact and then put your phone on speaker as to not be rude to your guest. It rings a couple of times before the line clicks open.

"Y/N? What's wrong?" Derek's gruff voice makes you smile and Alex's eyes widen.

"Why would you think something is wrong, Der?"

"Because you told us not to contact you until your two weeks with your family were up. You still have another week with them and you're calling me. In the middle of the night. So again I'll ask, what's wrong?"

You sigh and this time it's Alex's turn to grin at you. "So I might have a problem."

Derek groans. "What did you do this time?"

You open your mouth to play off the seriousness of the situation, but after the night you had you're just not feeling. So you snap your mouth shut and sigh once more. "When I first got here, I smelled a werewolf around the house," you say. "I didn't think anything of it because it was faint, but tonight I found the werewolf in my little sister's room. We fought and he fled. I have an uncomfortable feeling about this, Der."

A moment passes in silence before Derek says, "We're on the way."

"Okay, but before you come to the rescue there's something you need to know." He doesn't say anything, but the line is still connected so you know he's waiting. "So you know how we always said something was odd about my sister's holograms?"

"Yeah?"

"Well funnily enough, they're ghosts! But don't worry," you're quick to cut off an inevitable rant, "there's nothing fishy or any ulterior motives. These guys are good, pure, and goofy. Please don't start anything."

There's a heavy exhale and then, "We'll see."

"Bring food!" You're quick to toss in, grinning that you got that in before the call ended. Alex stares at you and you roll your eyes playfully at him. "Relax. It's going to be fine."

Derek and the others could have been there within a few hours, but they didn't want to be rude and show up while your family was sleeping. You texted back and forth with Cora after Derek spilled the ghost secret, and you laughed when she mentioned she was excited to meet them because your little sister's music was quite catchy.

When you hear your family starting to stir awake, you send off a quick text to Derek to let him know that it was okay for them to finally come over. And to bring food because there's not enough to feed three werewolves, three ghosts, and three humans in the house.

Carlos is the only one who looks well rested, Ray and Julie looking like they tossed and turned all night. Luke, Reggie, and Alex poof into the room and you tiredly nod at them.

"Did you get any sleep?" Your dad asks.

"Nah. I've been keeping watch and keeping in contact with the pack," you say. "Derek and Cora are on the way, and Scott said to let him know if we needed him. The rest of the pack would come if needed."

"Mhm. Is there anything we need to know about this Derek and Cora?"

You glance around at your family and ghosts, and sigh when they're waiting for some sort of answer. "Just that they had a really traumatic event happen when they were younger, so if they're not exactly warm in the beginning don't take it personal."

Reggie leans forward in his seat. "Mhm. How traumatic are we talking?"

"Like their entire family was trapped in their home and burned alive traumatic." Everyone's eyes widen and you wince. "Yeah. A bunch of other stuff happened, but it's confusing and not everything is black and white as you may think. I just rather not delve too deep into their personal business moments before you meet them."

After a few lingering moments, Carlos is the first to mention he's hungry. Your dad says he'll get started on breakfast, but you stop them before they can even make it to the kitchen. Then before you can explain why making food isn't necessary, the doorbell rings and everyone freezes.

"I'll, um, I'll just get that."

Hurrying to the door, you open it up and smile in relief at the sight of your two favorite Hales.

"We come bearing McDonald's," Cora says. "We also might have pissed off a long line of cars because we bought out all their sausage biscuits and hash browns."

You laugh. "And I bet you cackled as you drove off."

"She did," Derek deadpans.

You shake your head and then step out of the way, gesturing the two Hales inside. You shut the door behind them and when you turn around to follow them you find that you don't have to go far. Everyone is just standing around, staring at the two newcomers and you shake your head. "What are you all doing out here? Get into the kitchen! I want to eat."

Carlos steps forward, staring up at Derek and Cora with a curious expression. "So werewolves, huh? And you're the one who bit my sister?" Derek tenses, but nods nonetheless. "Well thanks for saving her, but now I'll never beat her in a wrestling match. Can someone biscuit me so I can eat my feelings?"

You snort just as Cora cracks a grin and she walks forward while gesturing for Carlos to follow her into the kitchen. Derek stays put and you step up to his side, nodding up at him before looking out. "So," you start, looking at everyone else, "I'd like you guys to meet alpha Derek Hale. Der, this is my dad, my sister Julie, Carlos followed after Cora, and then we have Alex, Reggie, and Luke."

Everyone gave some form of acknowledgement as they were introduced and Derek sticks his hand out for your dad. "It's nice to finally meet you, sir. I'm just sorry it's under these circumstances."

Ray grasps onto his hand and shakes it. "Ditto."

"Okay," you drawl. "Now that the awkward introductions are over with, can we eat?"

Everyone walks into the kitchen then, you nudging your sister and chuckling at her wariness. Then once in the kitchen, you introduce everyone to Cora as well. The food is passed out and it feels like you're smiling encouragingly at everyone because they're intimidated by Derek's mere presence.

When everyone appears to be done with their food, it's Derek who clears his throat. "So do you wanna know why there's a werewolf interested in Julie now or later?"

The table falls silent and it's Julie who finally addresses him. "Wait. You already know? Without snooping around?"

Derek looks at her and smiles kindly which sets your heart a flutter. You're not stupid, you're well aware just how attractive your alpha is, but you never let yourself cross that line. Cora, however, has no problems teasing you about it, nudging you and smirking. You glare at her and return your attention to Derek. "I do. I'm not surprised Y/N didn't pick up on it, but I am surprised my sister hasn't mentioned anything."

Cora stops her teasing them, brows furrowed as she looks at her brother. "What?"

Derek pushes back from the table and offers his hand for Julie. "I'm sorry this might be uncomfortable for you, but will you join us over here?" she quickly glances at you and your dad, and your dad nods at her. She gets up and joins Derek at his side, and he gently grabs her arm to hold between you and Cora. "Focus on Julie's scent. Who does she remind you of?"

Cora's more in tune with her senses, so it doesn't take her long to pick up on what her brother is suggesting. It takes you a minute and when her scent has fully engulfed you, your eyes fly open. "How did I miss that?"

"M-Miss what?" Your sister stammers, pulling her arm back.

Cora glances between Julie and her brother, and you shake your head. "It's impossible. Stiles is a.." you trail off and Derek quirks an eyebrow at you, grinning.

"Excuse me," Luke pipes up, "but who and what the hell is a Stiles?"

Derek and Cora snort, and your gaze darts between Luke, Reggie, Alex, and your sister.

"Mija, what's going on?" Ray asks.

You gulp as realization slowly settles in. Looking at Julie, you ask, "They used to be invisible, right?"

"Yeah."

"But then they were cursed by another ghost, almost jolted out of existence, and you pulled them to you at the Orpheum. You wanted them and they appeared, and then by some weird happenstance you didn't want them to go and the curse was lifted. You were finally able to touch and everyone could see them."

Julie frowns at you. "You knew this already. What does that have to do with-"

"You're a Spark."

"What?"

Ray glances between both his daughters. "What's a Spark and how bad is this?"

You're left blinking at your sister in awe, so Derek takes over once more. "A Spark is someone with magical abilities, sir. When trained properly, they're a force to be reckoned with. They're highly sought after because they're not as neutral as a pack Emissary and can offer a hell of a lot more protection than an Emissary."

"Mhm. And what's an Emissary?"

"It's someone who offers advice and keeps peace during pack meetings," you say. "They're limited in their knowledge and magical abilities, but a Spark.. a Spark is so much more."

"So that's why this werewolf was sniffing around the house?" Ray asks. "Because he could smell the magic coming off Julie?"

"Yes." Derek tells him honestly. You can hear Julie's heartbeat pick up speed and you're quick to stand and wrap her in a hug. "If he's an Omega, which I believe he is since no one else came back when he faced off against Y/N, I think he wants to grow his own pack."

"And having a Spark within his pack would look good when recruiting others," Cora says.

Ray sighs. "What do we do?"

"Honestly? Julie needs to harness her power and learn how to use it."

"What? No!"

"Dad." You look towards him, frowning. "Derek's right. Julie is full of untapped potential and you do not want the wrong person training her. We can help."

Your dad sighs some more, rubbing his hand down his face. Finally he looks at Julie. "What do you want to do, mija? This is your life we're talking about here."

Everyone seems to hold their breath as Julie glances at every person she's come to love. But before she can say anything, Cora speaks up. "Before any decisions are made, I think we need to make sure Julie is a Spark." She then looks at your little sister. "Would you be willing to complete a test? There's no pain, no questions, just simple concentration."

You sister shrugs. "I guess so."

Julie is still apprehensive as Cora exits the room, so you rub her arm up and down. "It's going to be okay." You smile reassuringly at her. "If you truly are what we think you are, I think you might enjoy this. I know Carlos will."

Your baby brother perks up and you grin at him. You're quick to clear away the trash and are done just as Cora re-enters the room. She drops a duffel bag atop the table and Derek opens it up, pulling on a pair of gloves before he removes a vial full of black powder.

"What's that?" Luke asks.

"Mountain ash." Derek explains. "Create a closed barrier with this and no supernatural creature can cross it."

"And the rest?" Reggie wonders, peeking into the bag. Several vials clink together and he's quick to back off.

"Wolfsbane," you tell him. "It's lethal to us, but if we're shot or nicked with a weapon that holds a certain strain of this stuff, we figure out which strain it is and burn the ash that we have on hand to press into our wounds. For some reason it counteracts the effects."

"But in order to see if Julie truly is a Spark," Derek says, pulling everyone's attention back to the main topic, "we need her to create a barrier of mountain ash around Cora."

Julie quickly glances at you and you give her a nod. She walks towards Derek and Cora, and Derek opens up the vial to pour a small mound of black ash in the center of her palm. Julie glances up at him in surprise and then at the space around Cora's feet. "That's all you're giving me?"

"That's all you get."

Julie glances at you again and the panic is clear in her eyes. "Relax," you say. She gulps. "Relax," you say again, softer. "Inhale and exhale, Jules." She does as you say and after a couple of deep breaths, you say, "Now close your eyes. Form a loose fist and believe that you have all the ash you need there in the center of your hand as it tips out while walking a circle around Cora."

Julie's eyes fly open as she scoffs. "Seriously?"

"Seriously." You grin. "Magic is all about belief. Now close your eyes and concentrate. You have to want to close this circle. Do it."

Again everyone seems to hold their breath as Julie closes her eyes and shakes herself out. She takes a few deep breaths, letting them out slowly. You can practically see the moment her mind clears, her expression going slack right before she tips her fist and the ash starts to fall. She walks in an unsteady circle, her brow furrowing halfway around. She unknowingly walks the entire circle, her eyes flying open as she groans. "This is dumb."

"Is it?" Cora wonders. She raises her hand and goes to touch Julie, but her hand hits an invisible wall that shimmers a faint blue before fading.

Julie glances down, her eyes widening before she looks at you. "It worked?"

"It worked," you assure her. Everyone seems to scramble up from their seats then, gathering around Julie and Cora. You snort as Carlos and Reggie easily put their hands inside the circle, but Cora has no such luck of reaching out of it. You raise your eyebrow at that. "Well at least we know mountain ash doesn't work on ghosts."

"Um, how do we get her out now?" Julie nervously wonders.

"You or any other human can just drag the toe of your shoe through it. It'll break the circle."

"Cool!" Carlos readily drags his socked toe through the ash and Cora laughs as she steps out of the circle.

"So what happens now?" Alex asks, glancing between his newfound family a bit nervously.

"Now we find her a mentor," Derek says. "And a pack because without one-" he says, cutting off your dad, "it'll just be a matter of time before another werewolf comes looking. Or something worse."

"We, uh, we know a Spark," you say, glancing at Derek who gives you a nod to continue. "Stiles. He's obnoxiously smart and powerful, and unfortunately he refuses to leave alpha McCall's side long term. But since we're basically in the same pack, he'll visit and help mentor Julie if we ask."

"What about a pack?" She frowns. "I don't want to join a bunch of strangers."

"Then join the Hale pack," Derek says after a beat. You and Cora look at him in surprise, but he only has eyes for your baby sister and dad. "We can locate further south so Julie doesn't have to leave anyone behind."

"Der, are you serious?" You shakily ask.

He glances at you and smirks. "Of course. We'll start house hunting if your sister agrees."

You glance at Julie and her eyes are wide. A moment passes and then she looks at you, a relieved smile taking over. "Yeah. Uh, yeah. I'll join if it's okay with my dad?"

Everyone looks at Ray. "Why do I get the feeling my grocery bill just got a whole lot higher?"

You, Cora, and Derek laugh. "Don't worry, dad. As alpha, it's Derek's job to provide for the pack."

Over the next couple of days, Derek and Ray spend a lot of time in Ray's office- the alpha filling in your dad about pack politics since Julie was still so young. Stiles has already been called, but he had a few things to take care of before he could make the trip down south. So until then, you, Derek, and Cora were going to be staying with your family. Derek took to searching for a new pack house while you and Cora happily told the younger generation about your favorite pack stories.

Julie, Ray, and Carlos have a chaperone everywhere they go, but surprisingly no one complains. You and Cora had to take a brief leave from school, citing family emergencies, and you spend the newfound time protecting your family.

Unfortunately, before Stiles can show up and lay protection wards around the house, the omega werewolf strikes again. Fortunately, however, your dad is with Carlos at one of his baseball games so they're not there to witness the brief brawl.

You and Cora are sitting on the back balcony, listening to Julie and the boys rehearse. Derek had gone for a quick jog around a few blocks, most likely scenting the area for anything out of the norm, and you were in charge of holding down the fort. But the comfort of your house and the fact that nothing had recently happened made you let your guard down, and the opposing werewolf was smart enough to stay down wind.

But then there's glass shattering, the music suddenly cuts out, and Julie's shout pierces through her still live microphone. Without second guessing yourselves, you and Cora get up and jump over the balcony railing. You both land in a crouch, faces immediately transformed, growling. You're quick to straighten up, running towards the studio and throwing open the door.

Julie is huddled into Alex's side with Reggie and Luke brandishing their guitars as weapons in front of them. The werewolf in question is nearly six feet tall with electric blue eyes and a lean build. He's more clean-cut than you remember, but it's the same wolf you saw inside your house. It's a quiet stare-off, but the moment your eyes track to the completely shattered bay windows at the back of the studio a snarl rips free.

"Walk towards us," Cora says. "Do not turn your back on him."

The moment Julie takes a step back, the other werewolf growls and shifts in agitation.

"Try it and you're dead," you seethe.

There's a moment of hesitation and then he's lunging. Cora lunges for the male werewolf while you lunge for your sister, you shoving her and Alex aside. Luke and Reggie are quick to poof out of the way, and then reappear at the couch where Alex and Julie are huddled together. The snarling of Cora and the other werewolf keeps you on edge, and you join your packmate in clawing and shoving, and making sure you do not damage your mom's beloved studio too much.

You and Cora receive a few blows and gashes of your own, but Julie's frantic heartbeat has the two of you fighting for her. You try to fight with all your might, but you know you're in trouble when you and Cora both show obvious signs of tiring whereas the male werewolf still looks as anxious as ever to get his hands on your sister.

A mistake on your part has the male werewolf taking the upper hand, he kicking Cora away and grabbing you by your throat. The sudden action startles you and your lack of air makes you panic. So instead of using your full strength to break his hold, you claw at the hand squeezing your throat.

"Stop. Stop!" Julie pleads.

But her cries fall on deaf ears and it takes the roar of an alpha to startle the male werewolf into dropping you. 

As you gasp for air and scramble towards your sister, you look towards the studio doors to see Derek standing there with glowing red eyes. Derek, half transformed, is completely more terrifying than either you or Cora, and even though you're part of Derek's pack you can't help the uptick of your heartbeat at the power radiating off him.

"The girl is under protection of the McCall-Hale pack," Derek growls. "In fact, this entire territory is now ours. You have until sunrise to be gone or I'll rip your throat out with my teeth if any of us ever see you again."

The werewolf has the audacity to growl at Derek, but you and Cora are quick to flank your alpha. The two of you growl threateningly behind his back and as the opposing werewolf glances between the three of you, he grunts and slowly backs away towards the window he'd thrown himself through.

The second he's gone, Derek leans towards Cora. "Follow him. Make sure he leaves." A growl rumbles from her chest to show she understands and a moment later she's disappearing out the same damaged window. Derek takes a deep breath and let's it out before looking over at your sister. "You okay?"

Reggie blinks and then huffs softly. "Well I think I ghost peed a little, but I'm fine."

"Same, dude," Luke nods. "That was intense."

Your werewolf features fade as you fail to contain your laugh, Alex then glancing over at his friends. "You guys are so lucky you can play instruments and sing."

Julie giggles and you step forward to lean against Derek's arm. "I'm pretty sure Der was talking to my sister."

"Oh."

"Oh."

"I'm fine," Julie says. "But he's not- he won't come back, will he?"

"Not unless he wants an alpha to rip him to shreds," you tell her.

"I'm gonna follow after Cora and make sure the rogue is gone. You good here?"

You glance up at Derek and nod. "Yeah. We're good." Derek smirks at you and you roll your eyes, nudging him to go. After a moment he jogs out of the studio, no doubt following Cora's scent. Someone clears their throat and you glance back at your far too amused sister. "What?"

"So.." she drawls, "care to explain what that just was?"

"What what was?" You ask.

Luke starts to smile. "You totally have a thing for the scary wolf." Alex and Reggie eagerly nod in agreement.

"What? I do not."

"You totally do," Julie says.

"Oh whatever." You roll your eyes, willing yourself not to blush or smile. You'd be damned if you let them in on that particular secret crush, even though you were pretty sure it was mutual. "We have more important things to discuss like fixing the window and informing dad of what went on without freaking him out."

Julie's smile slowly fades. "Are things always going to be intense like what we just saw?"

"I hate to break it to you, baby girl, but yes. Sometimes worse."

"Oh great."

"But you're going to be a total badass," you assure her as you walk towards her. You kneel in front of her, taking her hands in your own. "Stiles is the best and he will make sure you know everything to protect yourself and those close to you. And besides, you'll have three badass werewolves just a few blocks over. You won't be alone."

"Are you sure? I'm still kind of young. I don't want to put your pack in any danger."

You shake your head. "You won't. I don't mean to brag, but the Hale name carries some weight. Scott kind of made a name for himself as well, so when everyone finds out you're under our protection it'll be okay. Trust me, sis. It won't always be this scary."

"Well as long as you're positive."

"I am. Now come on." You let go of her hands and pat the tops of her thighs as you stand. "Let's go find something to eat and call Stiles. We'll see if he can speed up his trip out here."

[mask-of-anubis]

1 with Nina and Jerome 🙌

This took me so long to get to but here it is! (other asks are coming soon, I promise!)

“Nina asks Jerome to do something ‘no questions asked’ and Jerome fears the worst.”

____________________________________________

Anubis House, 9pm.

As a matter of principle, Jerome liked to stay as far away from Nina Martin and her trail of bad luck as much as possible. He learned that lesson early on, but that didn’t mean he stuck to it. He always seemed to get involved with her Scooby gang eventually, even if he didn’t mean to. They were nothing but trouble, and he had more than enough of his own.

So when his phone rang at 9pm one night and he saw her contact name, he almost chucked his phone under his bed. Against his better judgement though, he answered it.

“Is this a butt dial?” he asked, hoping to quickly communicate that a call at this time of night (when she was right upstairs, mind you) was not welcome.

“I’m cashing in my favor,” she said, cutting right to the chase.

“I’m sorry?” He raised his eyebrows.

“I need you to do something for me ‘no questions asked,’” she said.

Jerome stopped. “Absolutely not...” he started to say, but she cut him off.

“You owe me a ‘no questions asked,’” she said.

“I do not…” Jerome scoffed, but she once again interrupted.

“Valentine’s Day, last year,” she said. “Need I remind you?”

“Okay! Okay, I remember,” he said quickly. Ugh. Why the hell did he ask her of all people to help? He had hoped she would forget and never cash in, but apparently today was the day.

He couldn’t believe he was on the hook for a girl who had even more enemies and sketchy night activities than he did. It was equally likely she would ask him to help her find a nerdy signed book as a present for Fabian as it was that she would ask for help burying a body. He hoped for the former.

There was nothing he could do. A “no questions asked” was binding at Anubis. He was indebted and it was time to cash in.

He sighed. “Fine, what do I need to do?”

“Meet me in the Frobisher Library, 11pm. Bring your noise-cancelling headphones, a headlamp, and a trowel,” Nina said. The second she was done talking, she hung up.

“God dammit…” said Jerome.

____________________________________________

Frobisher Library, 11pm.

“We better not be burying a body, Martin,” said Jerome three hours later when he walked into the library and found her sitting in the dark with a heavy looking satchel over her shoulder.

“I’m surprised you actually came,” said Nina.

“Despite what you might’ve heard, I pay my debts,” he said.

He gestured to his equipment. “What’s all this for then?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I meant what I said: no questions. Let’s go.”

She walked over the bookshelf and pressed the button to make it swing open. Great, Jerome thought. He didn’t know what he expected when she asked him to meet there of all places, but he had hoped going down into the tunnels wasn’t on the agenda.

There was still time to escape. But at what cost? If he ran now, Nina would undoubtedly spill the details of his humiliating Valentine’s “no questions asked.” He really couldn’t live with that. He sucked it up and followed her inside.

____________________________________________

The Tunnels, 11:15pm.

Down in the tunnels, it was worse than Jerome remembered. Granted, the only time he’d ever been down there was when he was running for his life, so he hadn’t taken his time to peruse.

It was also freezing. He rubbed his arms as he trailed behind Nina, wondering how she wasn’t shivering.

It was true what everyone said about her; she really was unphased by stuff like this: subterranean tunnels, deadly tasks, et cetera. She’d changed since last year. She was always a bit of a daredevil, but he remembered her in the history classroom, shaking with fear, tearful at the thought of their teachers tipping the scales.

Now though, she walked past chilling stone rooms haunted by the ghosts of deadly tasks completely steady, jaded even. Speaking of ghosts, from the rumours Jerome heard, Nina spoke to spirits regularly, like it was normal. She kind of terrified him.

He was really scared of whatever she was leading him to. After all, they didn’t have the best track record in their relationship. He’d betrayed her when her life was at stake, not once, but two times. Granted, both times he didn’t know her life was at stake, but it didn’t make it any better really. Plus, Nina notoriously held grudges. He just hoped she wasn’t leading him to his doom.

“Okay, here it is,” she said finally.

She stopped in front of a dusty trap door. It looked like an ancient air vent. Jerome looked around; this couldn’t be what she meant.

She opened the hatch door and crouched down. Jerome peaked inside. It was pitch dark. He switched on the headlamp and shined it inside.

“Oh god…” he said. Behind the door was a long, dark, dusty tunnel that, for all he knew, led straight to the depths of hell. In the quiet between each of their breaths, he could hear a distant, dull roar coming from inside.

Nina tied her hair up into a ponytail. “Okay, I need the stuff you brought,” she said, holding out her hand. She strapped the headlamp to her forehead, tucked the trowel into her back pocket, and put the headphones around her neck.

“If you hear me screaming, don’t panic,” she said – easily the most alarming thing anyone had ever said to him. “I won’t really be in danger. The only time you’re allowed to come in and help me, is if you see the walls collapsing.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Jerome said. “This is insane! What the hell are you doing in there?”

“You’re on a strictly need-to-know basis,” Nina said. He dropped it. He knew no amount of questioning would make her budge.

He also knew something else: if he left right now and refused to help, she would 100% do whatever it is she’s doing on her own. That was how they were the same; they were both stubborn, sometimes to the point of self-destruction. The least he could do was stay there and make sure she didn’t self-destruct.

“Fine,” he said. He had so many bad feelings about this — about why they were here in the dead of night, about why she asked him of all people, about what was in that tunnel, and about what the hell she had in that satchel.

As she steeled herself to enter, he got his answer to the last question. The flap of her bag shifted and Jerome spotted an unmistakable flash of gold. The Cup of Ankh.

His eyes went wide. Before he could say anything, she put on the headphones and disappeared into the tunnel.

____________________________________________

The Tunnels, 11:30pm.

It was agonizing waiting for Nina to reappear. He only brought one headlamp, so he sat in the dark of the tunnels, listening to the wind pass through and rustle the dead ivy twigs and leaves on the ground.

He didn’t hear anything in the tunnel once Nina entered. He watched her crawl in, the headlamp casting eerie, moving shadows on the dirt of the cave. But eventually, Nina and her light disappeared.

His ears had never been more peeled as he listened for any sign of struggle or danger. He had no idea what she meant when she said he might hear her scream. Did she mean in pain? In fear? It didn’t even matter because she told him to stay put anyway. He didn’t know if he could do that.

For now, he listened for signs of rubble falling. What would he do if it collapsed? If she was buried alive? He shuddered. Being buried alive sounded almost as bad as his worst fear. Almost.

Thinking about it made his skin crawl. He got up to pace and walk it off.

He looked to his left and saw a long stone beam stretched over a dark pit. Light streamed in from the moon through a grate in the ceiling. He peered into the pit, but it descended into darkness. He kicked a pebble into it. He didn’t hear a sound until nearly a minute later.

“What the hell is this place?” Jerome whispered. Not only was it architecturally impossible, but it was also clearly full of horrors and death traps. No wonder the Scooby gang wasn’t afraid of his ghost stories anymore.

He kicked another rock into the pit, but while he was waiting for the drop, he heard a noise from in the tunnel. It was a distant whimper — Nina. He paused, listening for another noise.

“Ahhhh!!” Nina shrieked.

Jerome ran to the tunnel. “Nina?” he shouted. “Hello!” She didn’t answer. She didn’t scream again.

He knew what she told him. Stay there, don’t react, it’s fine. He knew something else though: she was stupidly reckless. His heart was pounding. For all he knew, she could be dying in there, all alone, and he was doing nothing.

It was normally his M.O. to stand by, let other people deal with their problems while he dealt with his. He did that all year. He saw his friends sneaking out at night, jumping at the slightest noise, clutching burning brand marks, turning pale at the dinner table — and he ignored it. Not this time.

He pushed up his sleeves, steeled himself, and crawled into the darkness.

He couldn’t see anything at all, it was totally dark, but he crawled forward. “Nina!” he called. “I’m coming to find you. And this is the worst ‘no questions asked’ ever!”

She didn’t respond. He listened hard, but he couldn’t hear her screaming. He couldn’t even hear her telling him off for coming in. Instead, he heard dripping. He crawled forward.

Drip. Drip. Drip. He followed the noise. It was all he had to go off of. He still couldn’t see Nina or her headlamp.

The drip sped up to a steady stream. He heard a babble, like the sound of a tiny stream. Where the hell is water coming from, he thought.

“Nina?” he shouted. “What the hell!” Jerome’s hand sunk into a puddle. When he pulled it out, it was covered in slippery mud. He wished he could see. He kept crawling against his better judgment, but then he felt it: water rising.

All around him, he felt freezing water seep out of the ground. A moment later, he felt a drip from above. “What…” He stopped in his tracks. The water was rising. Panic set in.

He was petrified. He didn’t know whether to turn around or find Nina. The water started to pour in heavy streams from the top of the tunnel. It soaked his hair and his clothes. It was freezing cold.

“Nina!” he shouted desperately. Please let this be a dream, he thought. “Nina!”

He pushed his hair out of his eyes but it did nothing because he couldn’t even see. His pulse pounded in his ears. He remembered when this fear started — the day at the beach, his first time at the coast. He nearly died. Alone. This time he wouldn’t be lucky enough to catch the current to shore.

He spit out water and coughed. He sat back onto his heels. The water was at his waist. “Nina!!”

Then he heard her, her voice like a dual-edged sword: sharp on one side and terrified on the other. “Jerome! What are you doing? I told you to stay —” She was cut off by a rush of water from the ceiling. It splashed into their faces.

He couldn’t see her at all, but when the water drained from his ears, he could hear her choke and cough.

“We have to get out!” she yelled. Another rush of water descended on them. Jerome tilted his chin toward the ceiling. He couldn’t stand to put his face underwater. It terrified him.

A horrible rumble moved through the tunnel. All of a sudden, Nina’s headlamp glitched back to life. She was right beside him, soaking wet and squinting in the light. The water was murky brown and nearly a meter deep. Jerome was petrified.

Nina, however, shouted, “Let’s go!” She started paddling toward the entrance. Jerome couldn’t. He couldn’t do it.

“Wait!” he shouted, but before he could do anything, he heard the rumble again and a huge wave of water descended on him from the back of the cave.

It was so powerful that it pushed him and Nina back. He knocked into the walls of the cave and flipped onto his back as the wave shoved him. He was completely disoriented, flipping back and forth, hitting the floor, suffocating from the lack of oxygen, until finally the wave dumped them out in a heap onto the cold concrete floor of the tunnels. Water flooded out in waves behind them.

Jerome kneeled on the ground, choking and gasping. His heart pounded. His skin was frozen.

“What the hell?” he shouted when he caught his breath. His vocal cords were wrecked.

He looked up at Nina. She kneeled in a heap on the ground, coughing up water. “I’m sorry,” she exclaimed. “You weren’t supposed to go in there,” she said.

Jerome laid down on the cold floor. He heard the roar of crashing waves, all in his memories.

____________________________________________

The Grounds, 11:50pm.

They walked back to Anubis in silence. With every step, their shoes squeaked and squelched with water. Jerome was freezing. He looked over at Nina; she was shaking. It reminded him of that night in the history classroom. He noticed her satchel was now empty.

“Answers, now,” Jerome said.

Nina sighed, but she didn’t argue. “I had to bury something down there,” she said.

“The Cup,” he said. Nina stared at him. “I saw it in your bag.” He didn’t ask how it survived the furnace.

“Then you can understand why it needed to be hidden somewhere no one would ever go looking for it,” she said. “The tunnel was part of the tasks. It shows you your worst fear.”

“No kidding,” Jerome scoffed. He looked at her, but she stared off into the distance. He couldn’t help it; he wondered what the hell she saw in there. He didn’t ask.

“I asked you to come because no one in Sibuna would have let me do what I just did.”

“For once I agree with them,” he said.

“Well, I had it handled,” she said. “I’d done it before, so I knew what I was getting into.”

“Yeah, until we almost drowned,” he stressed. Just saying the word struck fear in his heart. His skin froze all over again.

“That’s why I said to stay where you were,” she said. “I never wanted you to get mixed up in that.” She ran a hand through her soaked hair and sighed. “I’m sorry I got you into that mess.”

Jerome nodded, his version of accepting an apology.

Nina half-grinned. “Trust me, I really thought you’d be the one person on earth who would actually mind your business when I told you to,” she joked.

He cracked a smile. “Trust me, normally I would have.” But when he thought about it, he’d stuck his neck out for her kind of a lot. He realized with a shock that she had done the same for him, and she probably would again if given the choice.

“Well, Martin, after tonight I believe you owe me at least three ‘no questions asked,’” he said. She probably owed him a couple hundred actually, but he was feeling generous.

She sighed. “That’s fair,” she said.

They reached Anubis finally. They ditched their soaking shoes and socks outside and snuck in the house. Jerome shuffled off to his room, eager to rid himself of his soaking clothes and the memory of this night forever, but Nina stopped him.

“Jerome,” she whispered. He squinted at her through the darkness. “Thanks.”

“You live a weird life, Martin,” he said, his way of saying “you’re welcome.” She was the most reckless person he has ever met, but he had to admit, she had guts.

That was how Jerome learned to never request a favor from Nina Martin ever again, no matter how many embarrassing things he did on Valentine’s Day.

____________________________________________

Valentine’s Day, 2011 (one year ago).

Nina knocked on Mara and Patricia’s bedroom door, staring at the text she got from Jerome.

A second later, Jerome opened the door and stepped outside, looking panicked.

“What the hell is a ‘no questions asked?’” she asked.

“No questions!” he whisper-shouted. He grabbed her wrist and tugged her into the room.

The room was covered in pink frills, plush stuffed animals, glitter, and red hearts. A string quartet sat on Patricia’s bed. When they saw Nina, they readied their instruments and started to play.

“NO!” Jerome shouted, more desperate than angry. “It’s not her.” He turned to Nina, “Help me get rid of it!” he pleaded.

Nina’s jaw was on the floor. “What the…”

“No. Questions. Asked,” Jerome hissed.

[alluringjae]

[ 23:45 ] ⮕ END   

part of my collection of cookie cuts from all i do is wait

in order to understand, read the main story first here.

pairing: ghost!doyoung x female!reader

genre: angst, sum fluff if you really squint

warnings: death, grief

author’s note: someone asked me how i would interpret this scene, so here it is. this hurt A LOT. have fun though!

leave me some feedback, constructive criticism or hellos!

Mid-1953

At long last, the Korean War has ended after 3 years.

Over 5 million people dead, and to be one of the lucky survivors was a miracle.

The remaining soldiers who’ve fought through it all could return home, whilst civilians can properly rebuild all that was devastatingly destroyed in their cities. Their own normal lives included.

The fiercest 3 years of your life must you say, too engaged with self-studying your history books saved pre-war while dealing with the bargaining stage of your grief towards Doyoung. Every day, you couldn’t go on without overthinking the what-ifs. On top of that, your toddler Areum was at the stage where she loved creating a mess on the walls with her crayons. No matter how many times you’ve corrected her because it wasn’t your house, she continued anyway.

Now, she’s full-blown crying after you confiscated them and you’re on the verge of it. Thankfully, your mother stepped in to take her out for a walk in the neighborhood so you could unwind for a bit.

Since news broke out that the war ended, everyone from every street cheered and danced on the streets. You hailed with praise along with them, positive that things were going to get better. Yet deep down, you’ve selfishly wished that he was one of the lucky few to come home.

If only you didn’t chicken out so easily after he told you he was enlisting so you had a few more seconds with him.

If only you compromised him to join another field.

If only you told him about Areum earlier so he could go home.

These thoughts revolved your mind the most, instantly getting you to break down wherever you were. Even photos of him and you together were enough to tear down your walls. So, they remained hidden until the day you’re in a much better state of mind.

Dear god, you longed for him. Everything that consists of him.

In hopes to forget this tremendous loss in your life, you poured hot tea in a cup and started on this new book from this ongoing series, The Chronicles of Narnia. Getting it during this harsh period was tough, bartering it with old books you’ve owned in the market.

Fully preoccupied in the fantastical universe, flipping the pages quickly, you almost missed the continuous knocking on your door. You let out a tiny gasp and made your way to the entrance. As delusional to think it was Doyoung, you knew it wasn’t your mother and Areum either because they would’ve simply walked in. Opening it anyways, you were met by two young tall men. One had a bandage on his cheek while the other had a cast on his right arm. Noting their growing hair, they must’ve fought in the war.

Oh, if Doyoung was one of them.

“Hello, may I know who you two are?”

The one with the bandage spoke up, bowing first. “Hello, I am Lee Taeyong and this is my friend, Kim Jungwoo. We were good friends of your late lover, Kim Doyoung.”

Late lover.

Haven’t heard that since people in the neighborhood gossiped about your taboo pregnancy, but it’s not like they knew anyways. But from the letters exchanged with Doyoung before, he talked about these two highly. Whenever there were times of ease while serving, Doyoung was always up to mischievous things with these two. In a situation where they had to man up, they brought out his inner child.

“Oh, yes! Doyoung used to talk about you two in his letters, but I had no clue how you guys looked.”

By instinct, you invited them inside for tea by the patio. You’ve always wanted to meet them despite the circumstances. Bringing in a tray with a teapot and treats, mostly you were inquiring about their lives. Aside from knowing their positions in the team, you learned of their new plans moving forward.

“I want to return to university to finish my studies in mechanical engineering, maybe travel the world too.” Jungwoo stated, blowing on his cup before sipping it. He’s said to be an organized man according to Doyoung, always cautious of his surroundings. It balanced out his liveliness.

“Me too! I want to complete my major in finance, then marry my childhood sweetheart after a few years.” Taeyong expounded, his round eyes glowed in wonder. He must’ve been looking forward to this day, and you were content for him. Meanwhile, it processed to Taeyong what he said, realizing that it may have been insensitive.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” He burst out instantly. “I got stuck in my feelings there.”

“It’s okay, nothing to worry about. You shouldn’t apologize for how you feel.”

“I do think we should feel worried about you though.” Jungwoo interrupted, sighing heavily. “What happened with Doyoung-hyung all those years ago, we’re really concerned for you especially.”

At the mention of the painful memory, this wasn’t the right time to crumble. You weren’t capable to show your vulnerability to anyone but yourself. Plastering a wrenching pretend smile, “I appreciate the concern, truly. But I’ll be okay again. I’m planning to return to university too, then proceed to law school. A shared dream of mine and his.”

Taeyong and Jungwoo transparently viewed you like glass, coping with the grief of it. They were on the same page as you, and unaware to you, they knew his final words. With their interpretation, it only felt right to reach out to you. Befriend you, aid you in any possible way.

At the end of the day, three of you equally shared the suffering over the death of a loved one.

Sitting in peaceful silence, the front door creaked open followed by a tiny, high-pitched voice squealing.

“We’re home!” Your mother shouted.

“I’m at the patio, we have guests over!” You replied, pouring more tea for the two quiet boys.

From such a low-spirited atmosphere only did it liven up when an energetic Areum came into your setting. She had pigtails this time, satisfying herself with fresh bungeo-ppang from the neighborhood. No matter what you’re feeling, it took a single glance of her with her small moon-like eyes to recharge you.

“Mom, who are your friends here?” She pondered cluelessly.

The two boys exchanged looks at each other first, then to you in one breath. Their expressions of perplexity by how one’s hand was on their mouth and the other boy couldn’t stop staring at Areum, you identified exactly what they were thinking of.

“Areum, these are your dad’s friends in the army.” You animatedly confirmed. “The one with that tiny bandage on his face is uncle Taeyong, and the one with the white cast is uncle Jungwoo.”

Doyoung’s death was already so heavy to take in, but upon discovering this hidden surprise, Jungwoo wiped his tears on his sleeve. But you were fast to hand him some tissue. He was younger than you, so your older sister instincts kicked in.

“This is unjust, (Y/N).” He murmured across you so Areum won’t pick up his words. Your lips pressed against each other, maintaining a straight face at him. He was right.

With Taeyong, his arms spread out wide for the small girl who willingly walked to him. He loved children, having a nephew back home. He caressed her smooth hair down to her jaw. The first thing he distinguished was her pretty eyes followed by her squishy cheeks, resembling so much of his late friend.

“You’re so pretty, Areum. Did your mom tell you that you mirror so much of your dad?”

“Yes, she does! But I’ve never met him and I don’t when I will, uncle Taeyong.”

A tragedy how the splitting image of his best friend doesn’t see what everyone sees. But again, she’s only 3 and she can only process so much. She doesn’t know the real truth behind her father’s location, except that he was working far, far away. There are days she’d ask if he’d come back soon, yet your only response is not now. This isn’t the right time for her purity about life to stain.

“Well Areum,” Jungwoo gathered his senses again, crouching down to her level. “As his friends, we know that you look just like him! Prettier even.”

“Really? Tell me more about him, uncle Jungwoo!”

It’s about time someone else shared stories about your late lover because yours was short-lived. It’s even more intriguing to listen to what other people have to say about Doyoung that weren’t his parents. Some stories told by Taeyong and Jungwoo were new to you too, giggling along to their ridiculousness when they’re not training or fighting. Loving their presence, you invited them to stay for dinner with your family, which they couldn’t reject.

What started as a tense conversation transformed into a heartwarming experience. These two boys earned a spot in your life, aspiring for longtime friendships with them. The tender way they cherished for Areum like they’re own after meeting for the first time, it’ll fill in bits of her void. In exchange, they insisted to chip in for you and her lives so it wouldn’t be just you and your family. Struggling already with the consequences of the war, it only felt proper to do so.

“Doyoung has always been there for us, now let us return the favor and be there for you and Areum.”

Your protests were deemed useless, so you allowed them to do so. Once you finished law school and take the exams, you could pay them back. It’s phenomenal how Doyoung’s good influence towards others multiplied even after his passing. Maybe if you began to view things this way, you’d recover sooner. Although he’ll always be in your thoughts, it wouldn’t be as sensitive as it is now.

For now, you’re just going to enjoy the bliss Taeyong and Jungwoo brought, retelling old tales of a drunk Doyoung on the dining table.

From behind your garden fence in secret, Doyoung secretly observed as his treasured companions interacted at last with positivity. His only daughter mirroring his adored smile, he lived in that moment vicariously through her.

What a good time to visit today, truly.

[amintyworld]

We Lost - Sorrowful Song AU

A/N: Hey guys, I back with a few prologues/intro chapters to some of @dreamsmp-au-ideas’s AUs. This one is the one I never thought I’d have time to write, but here we are - the Sorrowful Song AU. The premise is simple: What if during the Final Disc Confrontation, no one came to help Tubbo and Tommy? The answer: The fluffiest fluff, and the angstiest angst. Please check it out on their blog! I hope you guys enjoy! - Minty

TW: Major Character Death(s?), Blood/gore, afterlife, suicidal thoughts, memory loss, arguing, cursing, drug/alcohol mention, smoking. (Let me know if I need to tag anything else!)

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

As Tubbo and Tommy embraced in the cold air of Dream’s lair, Tommy squeezed Tubbo tightly, as if that could keep him here, alive, for just a little bit longer. That he would have his best friend for just a little bit longer. “So, are you… are you accepting this?” His eyes pricked with tears. “Are you o-?” His hands lingered near Tubbo’s arms as they pulled away, not knowing what to do or what to even say. Tubbo’s face filled with gentle warmth as he looked up to his best friend and mustered a smile,

“Hey, it’s okay.” He slowly reached to take Tommy’s hand in his and give it a comforting squeeze. “We had fun, it’s okay. We said our goodbyes at the start.”

“But we… we are optimistic you know we were optimistic-” Tommy’s body shook slightly, backing up a bit, as his eyes wet with tears. “The whole way here- my mic broke and we were… we were optimistic-!”

Tubbo crossed his arms around himself, almost like a hug. His eyes never left the floor. “Yeah, I know, but you get backed into a corner, like how he describes me as a pawn?” He looked up to meet Tommy’s gaze, his own eyes glistening with tears. “This is checkmate. This is it. This is the end.” Tubbo’s shoulders sagged. “I suggest you resign.”

A knot formed itself in Tommy’s throat at his friend’s words, and he thickly swallowed. “Tubbo… even though for this entire server I regarded you as my sidekick, and the character and all- But really Tubbo, I was your sidekick.” A moment of shock passed Tubbo’s face as he slowly began to shake his head.

“No..” A sad smile traced Tubbo’s lips. 

A tear rolled down Tommy’s cheek. “Please don’t go.” Tubbo slowly began to move toward Dream once again. “Please don’t go…”

“No, no it’s fine.” Tubbo gathered up his courage as he closed his eyes in front of Dream, who held his ax at the ready. “It’s about time anyway, it’s about time.”

“Say your goodbyes.” Dream’s voice echoed through the empty lair.

“Goodbye, Tommy.”

Tommy’s vision blurred with tears as Tubbo’s body fell to the floor, crimson blood staining his chest. Tommy called out his name, running toward him trying to help him, hold him, anything- But, within seconds, his body disintegrated into nothingness, the only sign of his existence being a puddle of blood on the door and a pile of items. The teenager’s body shook with sobs as he fell to the floor, his heart aching as his mind scrambled with the simple fact that Tubbo was dead. 

Tubbo was dead, and he wasn’t coming back. 

“Hm…” Dream hummed to himself as he went through the pile of things apathetically. Curiosity piqued his interest as he pulled out a compass with the tag ‘Your Tommy’, looking it over to see if he should add it to his collection. “Interesting.”

“Don’t you fucking dare you bitch!” Tommy angrily shouted through tears as he rushed over, punching Dream in the face, er… mask. It cracked and a small bit of the signature painted eyes fell to the ground with a shatter as a single green eye stared down at him. Tommy’s heart dropped in his chest at how dull it looked. He remembered how dull his own eyes used to look, in exile.

Quickly, Dream kicked Tommy square in the chest and sent him flying as he landed on his back, practically all the air was knocked out of his lungs. As he sputtered for breath, Dream walked up to him, pointing his sword at Tommy’s chest. “Come on, Tommy. Let’s go.”

“Fuck you.”

The sound of glass breaking filled his ears as all the energy was quickly sapped out of Tommy’s body as he struggled to move, paralyzed, and he looked up at Dream in confused shock. “Do you really think you have a choice?”

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

“Fucking great, another one!”

“Shut up, Schlatt.”

“This is my void too, you know!”

Tubbo’s entire body ached as his dead felt dizzy. His mind struggled to remember what had happened. Why was it so fuzzy? He slowly opened his eyes to find… Wilbur? Wilbur gave him a smirk.

“You know when I felt like space was opening up the last person I expected here was you.”

Tubbo sat up, the shift in his position made his head throb in pain as he let out a groan. “Where… where is here, exactly?”

Though Wilbur looked just as he did when he was alive, except for a hole through his chest, of course, he was gentle and looked to Tubbo with a warmth that Tubbo honestly missed seeing. His hand found Tubbo’s as he helped him stand up. “Careful, I know it’s a bit jarring at first.” All around the two were nothing but darkness. They were floating in a sea of nothingness. Tubbo looked at his hands and noticed how translucent they were. Was he…? He was a ghost? Wilbur gestured around them. “Welcome to the Void!”

“Void…?”

“I mean, it’s under the world, at least we think… so… yeah. Welcome to the afterlife.” Wilbur shrugged as his face quickly lit up in excitement. “Oh, let me show you around!” Wilbur smiled as he dragged Tubbo, who looked down to notice he was floating, toward more ghostly figures coming into view. There were cows, pigs, flowers, trees, even translucent endermen. “Anything that ever was alive and died is down here, including all those pets- Fungi and Friend should be around here somewhere… oh, over there’s Schlatt’s little corner…”

“Wait, Schlatt…?” Tubbo asked, turning around to see the former President of L’manburg’s small hut, across from him a tent and in the middle a campfire.

“Yeah, still the same old Schlatt - you have no idea how pissed he was when he figured out there’s no drugs or booze down here.” Wilbur sighed with a chuckle. He looked over to notice a certain blue sheep sniffing around Wilbur’s pockets. Wilbur smiled as he leaned down to pet the small creature. “Hey there Friend. You want some grass, don’t cha?”

As he fed the sheep, Tubbo’s eyes narrowed in confusion. “Why do you need to eat when you’re dead?”

“It’s not so much that we have to, it’s more like we choose to. Friend enjoys his grass, yeah?” Wilbur shrugged. Wilbur led Tubbo under a tree as the two sat on the dead grass and flowers. “I was wondering… where’s Tommy? I would’ve thought you two would come down as a package deal.”

“I… Dream cornered us…” Flashes of memories began to play in Tubbo’s mind. “He threatened me, he made Tommy give up everything. He has everything that everyone’s attached to - their pets, their stuff… he said that Tommy brought attachment to the server, so he needed him alive. He was going to put him in this inescapable prison, and… and he killed me.”

Wilbur’s bright attitude fell. “Oh.”

“It was time anyway,” Tubbo brushed off, forcing a smile. “My time to go, I guess.”

Wilbur’s eyebrows furrowed. “Was it?” Tubbo sighed, laying back on the grass as he stared up at the darkness around them. Tubbo’s hands played with the glowing and slightly translucent grass as he stared at the ground lost in thought, trying to wrap his head around it all and not finding any words. “Hey, hey - it’s all good, sorry I didn’t mean to just-” Wilbur sighed, moving to stand and holding out his hand for Tubbo to take. “Hey, uh, you… you like Uno?”

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

Tommy hadn’t said a word through the entire trip, though it’s not exactly like he could if he wanted to - Dream didn’t care for his protests or his few pathetic attempts to escape. He pushed away from the tears in his eyes as his heart hardened once more, feeling oddly heavy, weirdly… empty. He kept his head down, his arms tied up in front of him as he marched toward Pandora’s Vault. Every step he took he felt like he was walking toward his own demise.

Memories flashed through Tommy’s mind of how he slowly walked towards the edge of the bridge, staring down at the lava, his head full of nothing but thoughts. What had Dream said again? “It’s not your time to die yet, Tommy.”

It really never was his time to die. 

Always pulled and pushed along by people or things, fighting wars and facing down all the odds, prepared for the inevitable, welcoming and facing it head-on, only to wake up the next day and forced to move onto the next thing. Tommy used to feel happy and light, drifting wherever the wind would take him. Now, he felt like he dragged the world with him, with every move he made - it was so heavy, it hurt so much that the teenager almost felt as if at any moment he’d shatter.

But he hadn’t. And Dream wanted to know how much more he could take.

“Ah, Punz. Just the person I wanted to see.” Dream grinned as he slightly shoved Tommy forward. “The prisoner is here.”

Punz thickly swallowed in hesitation as he looked over toward the teen, who looked up at him, expressionless in a way that seemed so incredibly odd for Tommy that Punz stepped backward slightly in shock. “I… uh… I wasn’t aware that… that you’d be here this early.”

“I do pride myself on efficiency when it comes to these types of things.” Dream’s smiley mask bore into Punz, before turning towards Tommy with a cheerful smile. “Let’s get you settled in then, huh?”

As Tommy threw all his items into the chest, with no protest, he was turned as Punz checked his pockets for any lingering tools before handing him a tacky orange shirt and pair of pants to change into. Throughout it all, Punz tried to remind himself that he was doing the right thing, he was keeping his promise to Dream, he trusted him with his loyalty after all. Still, pangs of guilt rang through his stomach, tying it in knots at how utterly and completely broken the teenager looked. His eyes looked so dull he looked like an obedient zombie. He didn’t fight. He didn’t try to get away. Why wasn’t he trying to run?!

As they waited for the bridge to appear while the lava drained, Dream tightly kept the boy’s hands behind his back. Tommy’s voice was small and broken, almost pleading. “You’ll visit me in prison, won’t you Dream?”

“I’m afraid you won’t be getting visitors for a while, Tommy.” Dream pushed his hair back, almost… fondly? “I need to learn to trust you again, remember? I need to be able to trust you won’t try to run away.” As Tommy stepped onto the bridge with Dream behind him, only one thing he knew was for absolute certain - He wouldn’t run away.

He had nowhere else to go. He had no one to run to. He had nothing - L’manburg was gone, Wilbur was dead, Tubbo was dead.

Dream won.

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

Tubbo couldn’t help but smirk as he slammed down a plus-four on the pile, much to the ram’s dismay as the table erupted with shouts and hollers at the play. It had been awhile - Tubbo knew they lost count somewhere along the line, the last day was… the 20th day? Yeah, there had been at the very least twenty days since he landed down in the Void. he hung around with Wilbur for the majority of it, and though it was pretty clear he’d changed since pushing that button so long ago, there was definitely a side to him Tubbo remembered well, that he hadn’t realized how much he missed. 

Schlatt was… well, he was Schlatt. The ram hybrid barely left his own little corner where he napped, and when he did he was usually poking around for his next cigarette from the small stash he and Wilbur shared, or the few times they needed a player three. “You cheater!” Schlatt exclaimed, throwing his cards down on the table in anger, making Tubbo giggle and Wilbur laugh.

“I think it’s safe to call it, yeah?” Wilbur smiled, getting up to grab the score paper and pen.

“No, it’s not over yet!” Schlatt said, searching through his pile for anything useful.

“Schlatt, you have over half the deck in your hand.”

“How did you get so many plus fours?!”

Wilbur sat back down with the paper, smiling. “So, that completes game four hundred and thirteen - so far, Tubbo and I are tied for a hundred and seventy-five wins, with sixty wins for Schlatt, and three for Mexican Dream.”

“Remind me again why I keep playing with you two?” Schlatt groaned, and Tubbo patted his back sympathetically.

“Well, Wil and I always need a third, and Mexican Dream is… well you know how he is.” Tubbo laughed. “You’re a very good competitor.”

“Don’t patronize me.”

“Uh, guys?” Wilbur looked own at his hands for a moment, calling the other’s attention as slowly, his hands began to fade away from view. “Guys…?”

“What… what’s going on- Schlatt?” Tubbo looked over to Schlatt nervously as the ghost looked around in a panic.

“I… I dunno what’s happening, this hasn’t happened before-!” As Wilbur’s ghost form began to fade more and more, gods it felt absolutely painful - that shredded feeling of being disassembled, only this time he had no idea where he was going. A sense of fear struck him as he tried to keep his voice even, trying to forcibly ground himself here, let him stay here, please-! Wilbur slowly crumbled into the dark ground in pain, and as Schlatt rushed over to help him, he heard Tubbo and look over to see him in the same condition. “Fuck, fuck fuck what do I do?!”

Tubbo tried to gather his strength to stand when that same headache pain from when he arrived exploded in his head once more. He looked over toward Wilbur and crawled over to him. “Wilbur, what’s happening?”

Wilbur tried his best to appear calmer than he felt. He hissed and winced at the pluses of pain throughout his body. “I… I don’t know, but it’ll be okay, alright? It’ll be okay.” Tubbo hugged Wilbur tightly as Wilbur ran his hand up and down his back to soothe him.

“It hurts, Wilbur.”

“I know. But we’ve been through worse, right?” Wilbur tried to reassure him. “We’ll get through it, we always do.” One moment, Tubbo felt arms around him, trying to comfort him through pain, and then… they were gone. His voice began to fade. “It’ll be okay…”

Then… silence.

Tubbo felt his heart being ripped open of losing Wilbur again. Tubbo looked up at Schlatt, who pulled him into a hug as Tubbo began to sob - in pure pain. “I know kid. I know.” Schlatt whispered comfortingly.

“Schlatt, I’m scared.”

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

Cold.

Cold, and wet. 

A voice. He remembered a voice, calling out for him. It… it was Tommy. 

Where was Tommy?

A numbing feeling took over Tubbo’s body and suddenly he shot up, on top of a snow-covered mountain. It took a minute for him to calm his breathing, as he looked around at his surroundings, memories flooding back into his head - a battle. They were fighting Dream… the discs…They won - they must’ve. Tommy wouldn’t have left him here, right? As he moved to stand, he noticed how he began to float a foot or so off the ground, not now noticing his greyed-out skin. He felt weird… sluggish. He didn’t feel like… himself.

What happened?

Pinching himself, he quickly realized he can’t feel pain. Piling the evidence in his head as he stumbled down the mountain, he tripped, falling forward and bracing for impact, and-! He fell, but again, no pain. The only constant being the growing emptiness he felt at the edges of his being. 

Was he…? Surely not.

Looking down he noticed a large slash across his chest. Curious, he reached over to touch it, finally finding nerve endings as memories flashback and pain coursed through his body. Tears pricked at the edges of his eyes, as he slowly walked over toward a small pool of water, getting on his knees and peering over.

Surely not.

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

Tommy sat on the edge of his bed in the cell, shaking as he felt like crying, but realizing he had no tears left and feeling extremely thirsty. His eyes were red and puffy as he pulled his knees up toward his chest for the slightest bit of comfort. Usually, he’d feel stupid looking like this, but at this point, he didn’t care. In the five hours he’s been locked in the cell, Tommy figured out he didn’t care about a lot of things. Whether he ate, whether he got out of this hell hole somehow… whether or not he lived to ever see the sun again.

He didn’t have a choice anyway, no one had a choice, so what did it matter?

Within five hours, he screamed, cursed profanities as loud as he possibly could, and even tried throwing himself against the wall of the obsidian. It did nothing at all but made him tired, and left a very large bruise against his right shoulder. Part of him commended Dream on his plan. It was a brilliant one, that was for sure. This whole prison was a testement to how much he really knew him, how long he’d been planning this - because if it weren't for those iron blocks, Tommy would have thrown himself into the lava an hour ago.

He was about to turn and try to see if he could sleep forever, when a loud splash erupted his thoughts. “Fuck, why is there water here?!” He mumbled, pulling himself up against the wall.

Tommy’s eyes widened, his voice rubbed raw from the day’s events. “Wilbur?”

Wilbur, startled, nearly fell back into the small pool of water at the end of his cell again, clinging to the wall, dizzy from being manifested back into the world again. “Tommy…?”

“You’re… you’re here… you’re… whatthefuck-?!”

As Wilbur slowly got his bearings, he looked over toward Tommy warmly, smiling. “Hey, Tommy.”

Tommy couldn’t help but smile back seeing his old friend. “Hey, Wil.”

“I heard you and Tubbo went up against Dream, yeah?” Wilbur looked around the cell. “What’re you doing in here?”

“Dream… he, uh, he said I brought attachment to the server, and since I’m too important to kill, he put me in here.” Tommy said, gesturing around him.

“Yeah? Huh. So get out of here, then.”

“Wilbur-” Tommy sighed. “I can’t, there is literally nothing I can do to escape. I can’t break through the walls, there’s mining fatigue. I can’t pearl out, they took all of my stuff. What would even be the point, anyway?”

Wilbur leaned against the wall, arms crossed and looking over at him thoughtfully. “That doesn’t sound like the Tommy I know.”

“Yeah, well, things changed. People changed, places changed. Everything changed after you left. And… and I have enough self-respect to know when I’ve been beaten.”

“So you’re really going to just… give up now?” Wilbur asked. 

“There’s nothing left to do but give up, Wilbur. Dream won.”

“How do you expect to get out of here if you’ve given up before you even begin?”

“Wilbur, there’s obsidian, mining fatigue, lava-”

“So you’re just letting him win?”

“Dream blew up L’manburg, Wilbur.” Tommy could see Wilbur tense out of the corner of his eye. “Dream turned everyone against me during exile by framing me for the Community House, Dream murdered Tubbo.” Tommy’s fists tightened. “Tell me, what else do I have to lose Wilbur? What’s the point of me nearly dying trying to escape with Dream tracking me night and day, what do I have to fight for, anymore?!”

Wilbur’s gaze turned soft as his hand reached out toward Tommy’s. “Tommy, I-”

“We LOST, Wilbur.” Tommy snapped. “Dream won, and we… we lost.” Wilbur was silent as he looked toward Tommy with an expression the teen couldn’t recongnize. Pity? “We lost.” Tommy managed before his body shook again, closing his eyes and letting a few new tears slip. “Look, Will, I-”

And, when he opened his eyes, Wilbur was gone.

[dreamsmp-au-ideas]

Can we get some fluff in the 2b2t!Eret au??

Eret’s been stuck in hell for almost a month straight, there’s been no sign of her friends, no word. She’s given up on them coming for her, but she’s going to get back to them even if it kills her. Anywhere is better than here.

She keeps an ear to the ground at all times. Information can be a life saver out here, so over a month in to the worst period of her life she hears about the strange new group of fighters almost immediately. They move in a group, probably some sort of new faction. It doesn’t affect her right now so she dismisses it. She’ll keep an eye out if she needs to.

It’s been two months when Eret walks right into an ambush. Her glasses had been shattered beyond repair in a crystal explosion her second night on the server. She’s given up on trying to hide them, ignoring the usual unease at people seeing them for the advantage of night vision and the intimidation factor they give her. The night vision doesn’t save her. There’s an explosion, her ears ringing as she hits the ground. The shine of enchanted armor emerges from the dark, at least five people, possibly more. She tries to push herself up but a foot lands solidly between her shoulder blades and pushes her back down.

“Well well, look what we have here”

“I’ve heard of you. Ghost eyes. Herobrine’s descendent.”

“Bet you’d look lovely decorating our base.”

“I say we just take the head”

Eret presses her forehead into the dirt and tries to breathe. She just needs to get her hands on something, anything from her inventory.

Someone grabs her wrists and she manages to push past the ringing in her head enough to struggle. Her helmet is pulled off and someone starts tugging at the straps of her chest plate. There’s tears pricking at the corner of her eyes but she viciously pushes them away, this is hardly the time or place. She considers calling out, but that would only make things worse, though she might just have a chance to get away if whoever shows up decides to fight.

She’s still struggling under the weight of the people pinning her down when there’s the familiar whistlling thud of arrow fire. Some of the weight disappears from Eret’s back, sliding sideways to crumple to the ground with an arrow put precisely through the small gap between their armor plates. The people around her stand at attention, pulling out crossbows and axes, “the fuck? Is this you?” one demands, kicking her solidly in the temple. Eret isn’t sure if she cries out or not, but she’s definitely sure she’s bleeding now. He goes down in the next moment with a choked off cry. His buddies start to shift, looking nervous. One says “fuck this!” And takes off, he screeches as a figure looms out of the darkness. Barely raising his enchanted sword in time to block a heavy axe blow. More figures drop down and the person sitting on Erets back stands up and nervously backs away, “heyyy let’s talk about this” they gesture to Eret, “you want it you can have it, seriously. Just let me go and that’s all yours”

Eret scrambles for her helmet, her chest plate, anything. She’s alone and unarmed and vastly outnumbered and she dearly want to cry but this is quite possibly the worst possible moment for that. Someone touches her shoulder and Eret nearly jumps out of her skin, instead she dives forward. She’s got no gear, and no chance of beating a single armed fighter, let alone a group as clearly organized as this one. Her only chance is to get away and hope the two groups will be too distracted killing each other to go after one lone runner. She’ll have to start over, but at least she’ll be alive.

One of them is still coming after her, armor gleaming in the faint moonlight. Their arms are out stretched and they’re saying something but Eret’s ears are still ringing from the blast and her breath is starting to quicken. They reach for her again, get a hand around her wrist. Eret panics and plants a foot on their chest, sending them flying. They must not have been expecting it because they’re in full armor and Eret has nothing. She scrambles to her feet, swaying and starts to run. She only manages a few steps before she slams into something solid and unyielding. She bounces off of what must be someone’s chest before they tug her back, her back slamming into their chest plate. “Eret!” The person is shouting right next to her ear, pinning her arms, how did they know her name? “Eret calm down!”

Eret’s temple throbs, her eyes hurt from overuse, and her wrist aches where one of her first assailants had ground their heel down on it. She’s been hunted down for weeks, ambushed and trapped and finally caught and she’s so tired. She just wants to go home. She sobs and her knees go out from under her. The person pinning her -it’s funny she could almost swear it feels like a hug- sinks with her, murmuring something.

The last thing Eret sees before she passes out is the stars.

When Eret wakes up, she’s lying in a bed. She panics immediately, flailing upright. She’s not restrained and she’s wearing a loose shirt and pants. But the last thing she remembers doesn’t exactly fill her with confidence for her safety. The room looks almost comfortable, cluttered. It reminds her of- Eret shuts that thought down hard. She doesn’t have time to break down right now. Whoever is keeping her has obviously underestimated her because there are multiple things she could use as improvised weaponry. She refuses to entertain the thought that her captors are good enough that they don’t have to worry about her not insignificant combat skills, because that means she’s fucked from the start.

She’s deliberating over what to do when footsteps sound out from the hall. Eret grabs whatever’s nearest, long fingers wrapping around a metal candlestick. She flattens herself against the wall behind the door and slows her breathing. The door opens and the person hums as they walk in. Eret shoulders the door closed and gets a hold of the back of their jacket. She jerks them backwards against her chest, the candlestick braced against their throat. The person squawks and drops the tray they were holding.

Eret licks her lips and tries to sound as threatening as possible as she says, “You’re going to tell whoever’s-“ she breaks off as she gets a good look at their face, “Fundy?”

The fox hybrid stares up at her, blinking owlishly, “uh, hey Eret.”

Eret blinks, dropping the candlestick from Fundy’s throat, “I... what?”

Fundy shifts, “sorry it took so long to find you, we’ve been looking for ages. That server is crazy, it’s a good thing we showed up when we did, huh?”

Eret stumbles backwards, sitting down hard on the edge of the bed, “Fundy? I-what?” She repeats.

Fundy crouches down, looking concerned, “Eret? are you alright?”

“But- but-How are you here?” Eret bursts out, sounding like she’s second away from tearing her hair out, she feels about three seconds away from screaming into a pillow and not stopping.

Fundy wrings his hands together, “oh I yes-I guess you wouldn’t know, huh? So uh Dream? You know Dream?” Eret flinches at the name and Fundy hurries to continue on, “of course you know Dream. So anyway, we kind of figured out, finally, that’s he’s been um. Manipulating everyone. Yeah, really creepy hall of things people cared about. Like there was a cage for Skeppy? It was weird. Then someone pointed out that there wasn’t anything for you and then someone else pointed out that they hadn’t seen you in a while. And then Dream started laughing so Tommy made him tell us what he did and um. yeah.” He fidgets again, his voice going quieter, “sorry we didn’t notice sooner.”

Eret blinks, “so I’m, I’m back on the smp? We’re not in- we’re not... there anymore?”

“No! We left as soon as we got you, and Techno finished murdering those assholes who jumped you. It kind of took a while to convince him to stop.” Fundy grimaces, looking squeamish.

“Oh,” Eret says faintly, the thought of Technoblade in a protective rage over her causing some cognitive dissonance.

“Are you alright though, Eret? You never answered my questio-“ Fundy is cut off as Eret envelops him in a tight hug.

Her voice is choked as she says, “I am now.”

“Oh! Eret, you’re awake!” Niki claps her hands together delightedly in the doorframe, before the door slams open wider to reveal Tommy and Tubbo and Ghostbur standing there, behind them is the entire rest of the server, “We’re so glad you’re ok! Everyone was so worried.” She hurries inside, everyone pouring in after her and suddenly Eret is surrounded in the biggest cuddle pile she’s ever experienced. There’s legs tangled in hers and someone is running their hands through her hair and Ghostbur is humming something soft and soothing. She lets out a slightly choked laugh and tugs Fundy closer. It’s good to be home.

I love this. Oh god this is good fluff. Just fluff after hurt and hurt/comfort is something I love. Oh my god.