#he eats cobblestone probably

[rosesofchaosmeow]

Oh mi gauwsh…for the first time Prussia is calm

THIS IS A MOMENT IN HISTORY TAKE A PICTURE /j

Anyways a drew the silly man with his fugly bird

I wanna eat it ALSO HE DOESNT HAVE EYE SHADOW I JUST DREW HIM THAT WAY GRR

Btw this is the sketch 👇

[candycandy00]

congrats on 2k!! Character: Gojo AU Setting: Mascarade Level: NSFW Mood: Writer's choice Kinks: Praise and Spanking

Once Upon a Time - A Gojo x Reader Fanfic Part 1

Retold fairytales featuring the JJK men! First up is Cinderella starring Gojo! You met Prince Gojo as a child and fell in love, but you’re sure he doesn’t remember you. When you’re forced to take your stepsister’s place as his “pleasure” for the evening, you’ll get your reunion, but it might not be what you hoped for.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Read Sukuna x Sleeping Beauty here!

Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. Fairytale AU. Gojo as Prince Charming. Reader as Cinderella. Dubcon. Coercion. Oral. Spanking. Rough sex. Light bondage. Mentions of abuse by the wicked stepmother and stepsisters. 

Any and all feedback would be appreciated so much! There will probably be three parts. Dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more and @benkeibear.

The crowds are bigger than usual today as you walk along the cobblestone street, carrying a bag of items you bought at the local market. You’re in a hurry to get home and start dinner before your stepmother gets angry. If you’re even a few minutes late, she’ll either take the rod to your arms or not allow you to eat. 

Someone in the crowd calls out, “Look, there he is!” Another voice, feminine, excitedly yells, “Prince Gojo!”

The sound of his name stops you cold in the middle of the street. You look out across the river of people, across the roadway reserved for carriages. On the opposite street, flanked by guards in crisp uniforms, you spot him. 

He’s difficult to miss. Taller than everyone else nearby, with stark white hair, flawless skin, and crystal blue eyes brighter than the sun. He’s smiling and waving at the people as he makes his way down the street. 

You can’t help stopping to watch, dinner be damned, because you and the prince have history. Even if you’re certain he doesn’t remember it.

You were ten, he was twelve, and you didn’t even realize he was the prince. He’d introduced himself as Satoru when he found you ducked behind a set of stone steps leading to a flower shop in the town square. You had run away from your house after the first time your stepmother used a rod to beat welts into your arms and hands. You were crying, covered in marks and bruises, still grieving over the recent loss of your father. 

That’s when a radiant boy with an angelic smile appeared, asking you what was wrong. You were embarrassed to be seen that way, so you wiped your face and said you were fine. 

“You don’t look fine,” he’d said. “Want me to help you?”

You couldn’t fathom how a boy so close to your age could help you, but you were glad that someone wanted to. Soon after, you heard voices calling out the name he’d given you, and he blanched. “Ugh, that’s my nanny,” he said with a grimace. Then he looked straight at you with those beautiful clear eyes and said, “You ran away from home too, right? Let’s run away together!”

Satoru took your hand and pulled you out from behind the steps, dragging you along with him as he ran down the street. As a child, at that moment, you thought you were actually free of the abuse you endured at home. Satoru was going to take you far away, and you’d never come back. 

Of course, you were both children, so running away together meant making it to the edge of the woods and playing among the trees for a few hours. You held hands and danced beneath the shade of the forest canopy, chased a rabbit that refused to let you pet it, pretended to be a princess that he rescued from an imaginary ogre, and laughed together under the setting sun. 

It was the most wonderful day you’d ever had, until you both got hungry. When he suggested going back, your heart sank, but even at that age you understood the reality of your situation. 

Back in town, you stopped in front of a fancy boutique and looked through the display window. It was full of dazzling dresses, hats, and jewelry. But what drew your attention most was the pair of delicate glass slippers, with their shiny inlaid stones and lovely shape. 

Satoru stood beside you. “Do you like those?” 

“They’re beautiful,” you replied, staring at them longingly. You’d seen them there many times before, and you spent every available moment standing in front of that window, enjoying the view. 

Satoru disappeared, and a few seconds later a lady came to the other side of the window and retrieved the slippers. You watched in shock as Satoru walked out of the boutique with a package in his hands. He reached it to you. “Here. We probably won’t see each other again for a long time, but maybe these can cheer you up when I’m not around.”

You opened the package, already knowing yet not believing what was inside. Those beautiful shoes were in your hands! Even though you didn’t fully understand how valuable they were, you did grasp that not just anyone could walk in and buy them. “But… they cost a lot of money, don’t they?” 

He grinned. “That’s no problem for me. And I know they’re too big for you now, so when you’re older, and they fit you, come see me. I’ll make sure you never cry again!”

You hugged the shoes to your chest as you looked up at him. “How will I find you? Do you live nearby?”

He laughed. “Oh, you’ll find me. Trust me.”

At that moment, a royal guard appeared, looking a bit frazzled. “There you are! The whole castle is in a state of panic, Your Highness! Where have you been?”

Satoru shrugged. “I was just playing with my friend.”

The guard called to another passing guard, “I found Prince Gojo!”

Your eyes went wide as you realized exactly who you’d been playing with all day. As the guards led him away, he looked back at you over his shoulder and winked.

From that moment on, you have been deeply, madly, in love with Prince Gojo. 

When you got home that night, you managed to hide the shoes before your stepmother found you and punished you severely. You knew she would either take them for one of her own daughters who were slightly older than you, or sell them. 

Occasionally, when you’re certain that no one will see, you pull the shoes out and admire them. They make you think of Satoru, of his beautiful crystal eyes. You’ve been trying them on for years, and now that you’ve grown up, they fit you perfectly. 

He told you to find him, but you know exactly where he is. At this very moment, he’s only feet away from you. But the reality you’ve come to accept, one he probably didn’t realize himself as a child, is that someone like you could never approach the crown prince. You’re the daughter of a minor lord who died years ago, leaving his meager fortune to his wife, your stepmother, who only shares enough with you to keep you alive. You have nothing but shabby old dresses to wear, and you smell of sweat and hard work. 

No, best to simply love him from afar, to long for him, ache for him, but never reach out to him. 

As you watch, he disappears into a cafe, two of his guards following and the rest remaining outside to keep the crowd from storming the place. Prince Gojo is extremely popular with the common people, especially since his father has basically turned most of the ruling duties over to him. Poverty is rare, crime is even rarer. Prince Gojo’s policies have benefitted everyone. Add to that his otherworldly beauty and his friendly personality, and you have a monarch that’s beloved by all. 

A few times a month, he comes to the small town surrounding his castle and spends all day and evening there. He interacts with the people, hears their concerns, and patronizes local businesses. You’ve heard whispered rumors that he invites pretty young noblewomen to his room at the inn. Your heart burns to think of him with other women, so you try not to think about it at all. You’ve also heard that he’s being encouraged to take a wife soon. You try to think even less about that. 

In the end, you make it home ten minutes late, and your stepmother gives you ten lashings across your extended arms with the rod. You barely flinch when the rod connects with your skin. You’re used to it by now. Even though you’re an adult now, you have no means of surviving without her support. She controls your father’s estate after all. You have no choice but to endure her abuse. 

While you cook dinner, your two stepsisters sit at the table, demanding to know when you’ll be finished. 

“Just a few more minutes,” you tell them, stirring the pot of stew on the stove before checking the bread in the oven. 

“It better not be longer than that,” one of them says, “or we’ll tell mother you’re slacking off!”

The other laughs loudly. “So hurry it up, Cinderella!”

You wince. Cinderella isn’t your name. It’s a cruel nickname your stepsisters gave you after you cleaned the fireplace one day and emerged covered in dirt and cinders. 

Without another word to them, you finish dinner. When your stepmother joins them at the table, you serve all three of them bowls of soup, along with fresh buttered bread, and then take your much smaller serving to your tiny bedroom to eat alone.

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

Prince Gojo is sitting in one of the finest restaurants in town. The food doesn’t compare to the luxurious dishes he’s served at the castle, but he enjoys trying new dishes. He smiles to the cook who brought out his plate. 

“It looks delicious!” he tells the elderly man. 

The man beams with pride. “Thank you so much, Your Highness! We’ve prepared a special dessert for you as well. Please let us know when you’re ready to try it.”

Gojo grins at him. “That sounds great! I appreciate your kindness!”

Once the man walks away, Gojo looks across the table at his friend-turned-advisor. “So? Do you have things lined up for me tonight?”

Geto Suguru smiles as he takes a bite of his own meal and slowly chews, then wipes his mouth. “Not yet, but I will by nightfall. Just enjoy your dinner and stop being horny for five minutes.”

Prince Gojo laughs. “You know I can’t do that! I don’t know why you don’t pick a girl for yourself. I see the way they look at you. They’d probably rather sleep with you than me!”

Geto shakes his head. “You bring enough drama to my life already. I don’t need romantic entanglements making it worse.”

Gojo lowers his voice. “Romance has nothing to do with it. Just unmarried adults enjoying each other’s bodies for the evening.”

“Regardless, I’ll pass for now,” Geto says. He takes another bite, swallows, then asks, “Do you still want the lady I bring to wear a mask?”

“Of course. When I’m in town looking out over my loyal subjects, I don’t want to be recognizing faces and remembering fucking their brains out.”

Gojo says it in an airy, careless way, but it’s important to him. It would be too awkward to climb out of his carriage and see a dozen faces he’s covered in his cum.

He’s been inviting ladies from town to visit him at the inn for a few years now. When he first came of age, he started going to high end brothels. But his presence in such places caused a scene every time, and he felt too exposed to try some of the more… daring activities he was interested in. The last thing he needed was a bunch of vulgar rumors going around about him.  

It had been his friend Geto’s idea to invite noble ladies to privately visit his room at the inn. Being a rich, handsome prince who is actively searching for a wife means there’s no shortage of women throwing themselves at him. But he had stipulations: no women under age twenty, no married women, and no women who were not excited to be there. 

Geto does the selecting and vetting, keeping a keen eye out for any hints of someone being pressured or coerced. If he gets even the faintest whiff of something like that going on, he shuts it down immediately. That’s why Gojo can relax and enjoy himself, even if the ladies pretend to be shy or reserved at first. 

Prince Gojo signals for the old man who owns the restaurant. “Sir, I’m ready for my dessert now!” he calls, then he gives Geto a sly grin. “At least my first dessert of the evening.”

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

Later that night, after you’ve cleaned the kitchen, tended the fireplace, and sewed a loose button back onto your stepsister’s coat, you finally sit down for the night and pull out a tattered old book to read. You’ve read it dozens of times, but it’s one of your favorites. 

You only make it a few pages in before your door bursts open. Your stepmother gives you a stern look and says, “Come to the kitchen. Now.”

This is somewhat unusual for her, as the woman is normally in bed by this hour. You wonder what’s going on as you walk into the kitchen behind her and find both your stepsisters sitting at the table. One of them looks upset and the other looks worried. 

Your stepmother walks over to stand behind them. She puts one hand on the shoulder of the one who looks angry. “We have a situation that needs resolving,” the older woman says, lightly rubbing her daughter’s arm. “This little fool volunteered to go see the Prince at the inn tonight.”

You feel like you’ve been punched in the chest. Your voice sounds tiny and hollow when you say, “What?”

“Obviously she’s not going,” your stepmother says, and you feel a sense of relief. 

The stepsister turns to look at her mother. “But I want to go see the Prince! He’s so handsome!”

There’s fury in her eyes as your stepmother says, “No daughter of mine is going to be a whore, even for the Prince.”

Your stepsister frowns. “I’m an adult! I can do as I please!”

“Not while you live under my roof!” your stepmother says firmly. “Now we have to do something to fix this. Changing your mind suddenly would anger the Prince, and we do not want to risk his wrath.”

Without really thinking, you speak up. “I don’t think he’s the kind of person to get angry about that.”

Your stepmother glares at you. “Stupid girl! What would you know about the Prince? He’s a man, and they’re all insatiable beasts! No, the only way to salvage this night is to send someone in my daughter’s place,” she says, looking at you pointedly. 

No. No no no. She can’t be thinking of sending you, can she? You don’t know which scenario is more horrific: your abusive stepsister being intimate with the man you’ve loved for most of your life, or you having to be intimate with him while he doesn’t know or care about you at all. You’ve never even been touched by a man before. “I can’t,” you say weakly. “Please don’t make me do this.”

Your stepsister looks between you and her mother. “You’re going to send her?! Cinderella?! That’s not fair! I want to be the one who goes!”

An outburst like that from you would have earned you at least fifty lashes, but your stepmother merely gives her a warning look and says, “Think about what you’re saying. The Prince will sully her, use her up, and then toss her aside. She’ll be forgotten by morning. Do you really want that for yourself?”

You feel tears in your eyes, and your heart is pounding wildly. Is that really what will happen? You’d rather die. You’ve dreamed of the Prince making love to you since you were a teenager with blossoming desires, but if it’s just hollow, loveless sex from his perspective… you can’t imagine anything more unbearable. 

“I won’t do it,” you say, surprising yourself. You’ll take however many lashes you have to. You can’t endure having your heart broken in such a way. 

Your stepmother looks at you with cold eyes. “You’ll do it or you’ll get out of my house. Right this minute. I’ll cut you off completely.”

You’re stunned by the threat. This is your house! You were born here, all your memories of your father are here. You sometimes go into his untouched study just to feel his lingering presence. The thought of being locked out, with nowhere to go, while these people lounge around in your family home, fills you with both sorrow and rage. 

“Alright. I’ll do it,” you say, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. 

You’re given one of your stepsister’s dresses to wear. It doesn’t fit perfectly but it looks much better than the rags you normally wear. Before dressing, you wash with rose-scented soap, fix your hair as best you can, and even dab on a bit of your stepsister’s lip color. Before leaving, you glance at the small cupboard in your room where the glass slippers are hidden in a brown cloth bag behind some books. 

Would he remember you if you wear them? Would the sight of them stir some distant hazy memory of a pitiful little girl he was nice to once? You open the cupboard and pull out the bag, clutching it in your hands. If they could make him feel anything at all for you, even just a tiny spark of nostalgic affection, maybe you could endure this. 

You carry the nondescript bag with you as you walk out the door, not wanting your stepmother to see them. There’s a carriage waiting for your stepsister outside, but you’re the one who climbs in. You change out your plain satin slippers for the ones made of glass, praying they will give you strength. 

When the carriage arrives at the inn, a guard helps you out and directs you to go inside. Your heart is like a hammer in your chest. You’re finally going to be face to face with the man you’ve longed for all these years. 

And he’s going to have no idea who you are. 

The inside of the inn is cozy, not too lavish, but clean and comfortable. There’s a welcome room, with a desk set up to accept guests. There’s a set of wooden stairs going to the upper floor, which itself creates a balcony over looking the welcome area. You can see rows of doors from down here, and you wonder which one Prince Gojo is waiting in. 

Another guard ushers you up the stairs. You walk very carefully, afraid of damaging the glass shoes. At the top, a door opens and you see the Prince’s advisor, Geto Suguru. You’ve seen him often in town, almost always by Prince Gojo’s side. He gestures for you to come inside, so you do, finding yourself in a room much larger than you expected.  There are two chairs, and Geto takes one while telling you to take the other. 

As you walk across the wooden floor, your shoes make more noise than you intended. Geto looks down at them. 

“Glass slippers? How unusual,” he says before his eyes flick upwards to study your face. “What’s your name?”

You feel a stab of panic. Should you give your stepsister’s name? Or would you get in trouble for lying? “Um, would it be alright if I use a nickname?”

“Of course.”

You swallow the lump in your throat. “Then call me Cinderella.”

He raises his eyebrows at this, but says nothing more about it. “I’d like to discuss some rules before you go to see the Prince,” he says. When you nod, he continues. “You are not to discuss anything that happens in the Prince’s room, with anyone. Even your family. The Prince has some rather… eccentric tastes, so some of the activities he engages in might seem strange or perverse. You are welcome to refuse these activities if they make you uncomfortable. If at any time you decide you don’t want to do something, simply tell him to stop, firmly and clearly. Our Prince may be a ravenous beast, but he’s still a gentleman. He will treat you as a lady and respect your wishes.”

You feel a bit of relief to hear that, though you wonder if word would somehow get back to your stepmother if you refused to sleep with the Prince.  

“Do you understand?” Geto asks, watching your face intently. 

You fidget in the chair. “Yes, I understand.”

He’s quiet for a moment, staring at you. Then, “Did you come here by your own choice?”

You look up at him in alarm. Does he know? How could he? You have to cover for yourself somehow. “I want to see the Prince,” you say, and the honest emotion in that statement gives your voice an earnest edge. 

“I see,” he says, then he stands up. He pulls something from a pouch and hands it to you. It’s a lovely silk mask in the shape of a butterfly. “The Prince insists you wear a mask to protect your own identity. It’s to help you feel less self conscious.”

You hold the mask in your hands for a moment before pulling it on, tying the ribbons behind your head to secure it. You’re not sure how you feel about it. He definitely won’t recognize you now, but there was almost zero chance of that happening anyway. 

When ready, Geto opens the door and leads you out, then to the next door over. He knocks three times, then opens the door. “Go on in,” he tells you with a charming smile.

You take a deep breath, willing your hands not to shake and your heart not to race. Then you walk into the Prince’s room, Geto behind you. 

Prince Gojo is sitting on the bed, but he stands up when you enter. Here in front of him, you can see just how tall he’s grown over the years. With a start, you realize this is the closest you’ve been to him since that day when two children held hands and danced in the woods. His face is even more beautiful up close, his eyes even more striking. And he’s wearing that same easy going smile you loved when you first met him. 

“Allow me to present Miss Cinderella,”

Geto says. 

“Cinderella? That’s a unique name,” Gojo says, those eyes you love so much looking right at you. 

“Th-thank you, Your Highness,” you say, lowering your head in a tiny bow. He spoke to you! And you spoke to him! 

Looking at the floor, you notice that the room is covered by an ornate rug. That’s why your shoes made no noise. You hope he notices them, but so far his eyes seem to be drawn to your chest and your hips. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Cinderella,” he says, looking at your eyes through the holes in your mask. “Let’s enjoy each other’s company tonight.”

You nod, too nervous to speak again. Beside you, Geto laughs breezily. “Don’t be so shy. The Prince does bite, but I’m told it feels marvelous.”

Prince Gojo frowns at him. “Suguru! Don’t say things that might give her the wrong idea!” 

Geto shrugs, then says, “I’ll take my leave now. You two have fun.”

Prince Gojo is smiling at you. “We definitely will.”

Before leaving, Geto’s eyes shift to your feet for a moment, then back to your face. He leans closer to you and says in a quiet voice, “I hope your Prince is everything you’ve dreamed of.” And then he’s gone, sweeping out of the room and shutting the door behind him.  

Now alone with the Prince, you feel your nerves becoming increasingly frayed. He steps closer to you, probably eager to begin. He’s a healthy man in his prime, after all. You’re still looking down, afraid to meet his gaze. His eyes are so piercing, they scare you. 

Suddenly you feel his hand on your face, and he gently tilts your head up so that you have to look at him. “Are you actually frightened?” he asks, the self assured grin from before gone. “Or are you just shy?”

“I’m just shy, Your Highness,” you tell him, trying to keep your voice from quivering. “I volunteered of my own accord.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” he says. “Now just relax, and I’ll take you to heaven.”

You blink up at him, feeling heat spread over your skin. “O-okay.”

He leans forward, and you think he might kiss you, but instead his head dips and he kisses your neck. “Take off your clothes,” he murmurs against your skin. 

You shiver at his touch, your nerves practically on fire now. He steps back to give you space, and begins unbuttoning his crisp white shirt. With a feeling of defeat, you step out of the glass slippers and sit them aside. You glance over to see that he didn’t even seem to notice them. He’s too busy pulling the belt off his pants. 

With his shirt now open, you can see his finely toned chest and abdomen. He looks like he was carved from stone. You blush furiously as your fingers fumble with the buttons and ties on the bodice of your dress. You’ve never worn it before tonight, so you’re unfamiliar with its various closures. 

Prince Gojo steps close again and helps you with the dress. You can’t help noticing that his hands seem practiced and skilled at opening women’s dresses. When he’s done, you’re left in your thin but modest slip, feeling more exposed than you’ve ever been. The fabric is white, nearly sheer, with thin straps at your shoulders. It hangs to your knees, and beneath it is only a pair of panties.  

He doesn’t remove your slip right away, perhaps giving you more time due to your shyness, but his large warm hands glide over your body as he kisses your throat again. 

You can’t keep yourself from trembling at the feel of his soft lips pressed against your skin. He draws back to look at you, at what’s visible of your face beneath the mask. His thumb traces over your red lips, painted with your stepsister’s lipstick. 

He wears the most angelic expression as he looks down into your eyes and says, “I’m gonna cum in this pretty little mouth.”

You draw in a sharp breath, your heart pounding so hard you’re certain he can hear it. Before you can say anything in response, he’s tugging your arm to pull you toward the bed, where he sits down. He spreads his thighs apart, gives you a sultry look, and says, “Kneel for your Prince.”

Part of you wants to flee from the room and never look back. But another part wants to do literally anything he says. Caught between these two urges, you ease yourself down to your knees before him. He opens his pants and reaches one hand in to pull out his stiff, hard cock. You stare at it, comparing it to all the silly daydreams you entertained over the years, trying to imagine what it looks like. Somehow, it’s even more magnificent than you pictured in your mind. Tall and pale and beautiful, like him, with a tip flushed slightly pink. It’s much bigger than you thought it would be, though it’s also the first one you’ve ever seen outside of crude drawings.

He reaches down and takes one of your hands, then pulls it to his thick shaft. Your fingers curl around it carefully, and he moves your hand up and down. “There, just like that,” he says, releasing your hand so that you’re stroking him on your own. It feels strange. You assumed a cock would be a bit more delicate. You’d seen boys fall over in pain if they were hit there, after all. But Prince Gojo’s is sturdy, firm, strong. You notice the tip is glistening, and you lean forward slightly to get a better look. 

“Why don’t you have a taste?” he asks, staring down at you, a casual smile on his lips. 

Your eyes shift nervously from his beautiful face to his leaking cock. You lick the edges of your lips, forgetting the lipstick you’re not used to wearing. Then you extend your tongue and flick it lightly over his tip, smearing some of the clear fluid. It tastes different from what you expected. Not bad or gross at all. It simply tastes like him. You give another feathery lick, then another, and then you feel his hand on your head, patting it. 

“You’re adorable,” he says, smiling sweetly at you. “Now open wide and take my cock down your throat.”

You flinch at the words. Hearing such vulgar things being said in his lovely, pleasant voice is making your head spin. But you do as you’re told, opening your mouth widely. And as he pulls your head forward, you feel his hard cock slide between your lips and rest on your tongue. 

Yet another act you imagined countless times. And now, you have the cock of the man you love in your mouth, so instinct takes over. Your tongue moves, licking the meaty shaft and drenching it in your saliva, helping it to ease further in. Your lips finally reach the base, creating a red ring there as you struggle to breathe through your nose. He fills your whole mouth, and much of your throat. It’s uncomfortable, but you’ve dreamed of having him in your mouth for so long, you don’t mind the ache. 

You feel confused as you begin bobbing your head, moving up and down his length with your lips. The Prince you’ve longed for is using your mouth for his own pleasure, not really caring who you are. But this is your only chance to touch him, to taste him. Should you just let go of your romantic dreams and let yourself enjoy the physical sensations? Can you even separate the two? 

After a while, Prince Gojo takes hold of your hair and pulls your head back, not harshly but firmly. “Mouth open, tongue out,” he says, “and don’t spill any, Cinderella.”

On your knees in front of him, you open your lips and let your tongue hang partially out of your mouth as you look up at him. Your lips are quivering, your eyes glassy, as he strokes himself a few more times before shooting ropes of sticky cum onto your tongue. Most of it slides into your open mouth, but some drip down your chin. Reflexively, you catch some of it with your fingers and lick them clean. 

This cum is precious to you. It’s proof you pleased him, and it comes from your beloved. You feel the need to savor it. You glance up to find the Prince staring at you with slightly widened eyes, lips parted, a pink tint to his face as he watches you enjoy his seed. 

For a moment he doesn’t say a word, seeming almost transfixed, but then he laughs and says, “Oh no, you spilled a few drops. Looks like you disobeyed your Prince! How shall I punish you?”

“I’m sorry, Your Highness,” you tell him, still licking your lips to gather any cum you missed. 

He stands up, then helps you to your feet. “To start with, let’s get rid of this,” he says, sliding your slip up your body and over your head. His eyes move to your bare breasts, making you blush again, but then he reaches forward and pulls your panties down to your ankles. You step out of them somewhat clumsily, trying to keep your legs together. 

Taking his seat on the bed again, the Prince takes a moment to look you up and down. Your face is burning with embarrassment. The Prince is seeing every inch of you! 

After a moment, he takes hold of your arm and pulls you toward him. He’s still wearing his unbuttoned shirt and his pants, making you feel even more exposed. You allow him to move and maneuver your body however he wants, and soon you’re in the most humiliating position of your life: lying face down, your naked body draped across his lap.

He pulls your wrists together behind your back, holding them in place with just one hand while his other hand rubs over your ass. When he squeezes the flesh there, you give a tiny squeak of surprise. You can’t see his face from this position, but you hear him laugh. It’s a sound you’ve always adored. Then you hear his smooth voice, a little deeper than usual, say, “So cute and helpless. So many things I could do to you.”

The words make you squirm a little in his lap, and to your horror you realize you’re wet. You can feel a slickness between your thighs, and you pray he doesn’t notice. 

His hand leaves your ass, and then suddenly comes back down in a slap that makes you yelp and jerk. His other hand is still firmly holding your wrists, so you’re still in position as his hand comes down again, making a loud sound that reverberates around the room. 

It doesn’t really hurt, just a bit of a sting. You have plenty of experience being hit by someone who actually wants to hurt you, so you can tell the difference right away. No, what makes this so bad is the embarrassment, the vulnerable position, and the fact that you can feel your arousal smearing all over your thighs. Should you tell him to stop? He would, you know that. But your heart is so conflicted. You want to be with him, in any capacity, but simply being used this way is emotionally damaging. 

He gives a few more slaps to your ass, then rubs it again. When his hand slides down between your legs and his fingers reach the wetness there, you freeze, going still as a statue, barely even breathing. You feel his fingers part the damp flesh and then stroke the sensitive little nub inside.

“Ahhh!” You let out a shameful cry, trying to jerk away from him, but he’s still holding you in place. 

He withdraws his hand. “You’re drenched, Cinderella. Do you like being at my mercy? Restrained and helpless?”

Your mind races. Do you enjoy it? Of all the scenarios you imagined with Prince Gojo, this one was never part of it. But you can’t deny the thrill of being held down by him.

He gives another slap, and you cry out again. There’s a pause, where he doesn’t move or say anything, then his hand releases your wrists. You feel him rub gently over one of your arms, and remember the welts covering them. 

Suddenly he turns you over in his lap and pulls the both of you up. “Let’s do something else,” he says, for the first time seeming a tiny bit awkward. He directs you to lie down on your back while he pulls off his shirt and pants, finally standing fully nude in front of you. 

It’s a glorious sight. Every single inch of him is truly beautiful. His clothes had made him seem thinner than he actually is, and now you can see the taut muscles along his arms and torso. He notices you staring, and grins. 

You blush and look away, but it does you no good. In the next second he’s climbing onto the bed and pushing your legs widely apart. You gasp in surprise, mortified, but as he stares down at your dripping, bare pussy, there’s a hunger in his eyes. 

“I told you I’d take you to heaven, remember?” he asks, and then his head lowers, and you feel his lips on your delicate flesh. 

Your body jolts, but he has his arms around your thighs, holding them apart while his fingers open your folds. His tongue glides over your swollen clit, coating it in his saliva. You begin to tremble, your hands gripping the sheets for dear life as his lips close around the little bundle of nerves, suckling gently. He pulls away, only to press his tongue inside you as his thumb rubs circles into your clit. 

You cry out, over and over, your back arching off the bed. You love him so much! And he’s bringing you such pleasure! You think your heart might burst. 

Something is going to burst. You feel something building, like pressure inside your core. His thumb is relentless, becoming more aggressive as his tongue gathers your wetness and slurps it into his mouth. You’re so sensitive, the stimulation almost hurts. 

But he keeps going, his thumb only moving faster, applying more pressure, until finally the dam breaks. Pleasure washes over you like a flood, your body twitches and shakes, and Prince Gojo’s thumb slows to languid, soft motions while you ride out your first orgasm. 

You’re left panting, dizzy, your skin flushed and dewy. You look up to see the Prince raised up on his knees, staring down at your spread open body, licking his thumb. 

If you can burn one image from this night into your memory forever, this is it. He’s never been more gorgeous. But then your eyes move down and you see that he’s fully erect again, his cock somehow looking even bigger than before. 

He slips his hands under your ass and lifts your hips from the bed, pulling you to him. You almost panic. You almost tell him to stop. You wanted your first time to be with the Prince. But you wanted it to be romantic, full of love. Now, he’s about to take your virginity, but he doesn’t love you. He doesn’t even know your name. 

You close your eyes, deciding to let it happen. You suppose you should consider yourself lucky to be deflowered by the man you love. 

You feel him push into you, slowly, and you’re shocked by how deep he goes. You feel yourself stretching, maybe even ripping, as a small amount of warm fluid, probably blood, leaks out around his cock. He’s clearly trying to be careful, but he’s just too big, and his fast breathing indicates he’s having a hard time holding himself back. 

You feel his hand on your face. “Are you okay?” he asks, his voice strained. You nod, then you hear him say, “Look at me.”

You open your eyes, only to be met with his stunning eyes boring into you. “I’m gonna start moving, okay?”

“… okay,” you say in a tiny voice, feeling like a small prey animal beneath a giant wolf. 

He begins thrusting then, slowly at first but going so very deep. At some point he picks up speed, his hands gripping your hips tightly. Soon he’s practically slamming into you, grunting each time his cock buries itself to the hilt in your aching pussy. 

You feel so many emotions, you can barely make sense of them. 

The man you’ve loved for so long is inside you! 

He doesn’t care about you at all. 

He’s enjoying your body, you make him feel good! 

He’s done this with countless other women. 

He made your body come alive with pleasure! 

He’s being too rough with you. 

That roughness, that pain, is somehow turning you on. You’re practically gushing as he pounds into you! Your body is as confused as your heart. You can’t even tell what hurts or feels good anymore. Then you realize with some alarm: you don’t care. You don’t care if he hurts you. You only want to feel him. 

Completely overwhelmed, you feel tears flood your eyes, and you can only hope the mask hides your face enough, that you can hold back your sobs, so that Prince Gojo doesn’t realize how you feel. 

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

Prince Gojo grunts when he feels Cinderella clench his cock tightly, like her pussy doesn’t want to let him go. He can’t remember the last time he’s been this riled up. 

At first, he thought she was just putting on a shy act to tantalize him, but when he thrust into her for the first time he realized she was a virgin. Probably not an act then. 

That probably should have concerned him, but she’s so wet and so tight, the little moans and cries she makes are so sweet, that he’s losing control of himself inside her. 

He hasn’t missed the way she looks at him, even through the mask he can see there’s something beyond the usual admiration or shallow crush on a popular figure. And the way she licked up his cum as if it were her last meal… he literally felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. 

And so he shoves into her as deeply as possible, loving the feel of her around him, and when he looks down at her face again, he realizes she’s crying. Tears are dripping down her cheeks, under the mask, and her body is shaking. It’s almost enough to make him stop. Almost. 

Instead he leans down over her, pulling her upper body up and into his arms, cradling her. “You’re so pretty,” he says in his softest voice. “You feel so good. You’re taking my cock so deep…”

She sniffles, burying her face in his shoulder, her hands clutching his arms. Then he hears her voice, so quiet yet so clear, say, “Satoru…!”

He freezes, his eyes wide. Her face is hidden from him, but he heard her clearly. None of the women who visit him at the inn have ever called him by his first name. It’s always “Your Highness”, or if they’re the bold type, “Prince Gojo”. 

But the way she said it, as if it was natural to her, surprised him. His name, a personal, intimate thing for him, reserved only for those closest to him, spilled from her soft ruby lips like a prayer. The sound of it, somehow familiar, sent a shiver rippling through his body. 

He pushes in deeper, his fingers digging into her skin, and she cries out, clenching him even tighter. Her whole body quivers as she cums again, little sobs wracking her form. The feel of it is enough to push him to his own climax, and with a groan of pleasure he cums, realizing a moment too late that he came inside her instead of pulling out. 

He holds her as they both come down from their shared high, her warm walls still clamped around his throbbing cock. After a long while, much longer than with any other woman, Gojo separates from her and they both get up from the bed. 

They both dress in silence. He’s usually chatty at times like this, but his mind is elsewhere, still in those moments when he was inside her, when she said his name. 

He glances over to find her back in her dress. She reaches up toward her mask, probably to remove it and wipe her eyes, but he stops her. 

“Don’t take it off until you’re out of the room,” he says, though part of him wants to rip it off immediately. 

She looks at him then, and gives a small, uncomfortable smile. “Of course, I’m sorry, Your Highness.”

“This way is better for both of us,” he tells her, though he feels conflicted. He wants to ask her name, her real name, but that would defeat the purpose of the mask. Instead he says nothing as she gives a small bow and leaves the room. 

Gojo flops across the bed and sighs, his thoughts still full of Cinderella. After a moment, he notices a sound coming from outside his room. Perhaps on the stairs?

Click, click, click. 

Over and over. The sound calls to him. He stands up and crosses to his door, opening it slowly and listening. 

Click, click, click. 

What is that? It stops, then starts again but softer. He walks out and looks over the railing, down to the first floor. Cinderella is walking toward the door. The light glints off something on her feet, and he focuses on her shoes. 

Are those… glass slippers?!

It can’t be! 

Suddenly everything snaps into place. The familiar welts on her arms. The way she looked at him as if she knew him. The way she called him by his first name. 

The way tears spilled from her eyes. 

It’s her! The girl he’s been waiting for all these years! 

He runs toward the stairs, shouting, “Wait!” but she’s already going through the door. 

By the time he runs down the steps and flings the door open, she’s gone. He looks both directions on the street, but it’s dark, and there are still crowds of people moving about. She’s nowhere to be seen. 

Cinderella has vanished into the night. 

[partycatty]

johnny, kenshi, kung lao, raiden, liu kang > lollipop

thank you for 450 followers! take a chunkier post as my thank you 🫶

suckin on a lollipop n wondering how they'd react >:3

warnings: they all need to be neutered

notes: it's orange flavored btw

[ masterlist ]

liu kang

• oh he tries, he tries so hard to not let it get to him

• but when your pretty lips part to speak and he catches a glimpse of the color staining your tongue? excuse him while he mad dashes to his quarters to smack one out silly style.

• no, not really. liu kang just avoids eye contact, tries to focus on training. perhaps he'd step away for just a moment to remember how to breathe.

• asks you to not eat during training, as it could be a choking hazard. he really just says that so you'd stop before he gets too hot under the collar.

• makes you hand it to him to discard, but when he sees the string of saliva as you remove it from your mouth you find it hard to miss the twitch in his eye.

• when you notice how much it gets to him, you make an extra effort to look up at him through your lashes when your plush lips pull the lollipop out with a pop. it's almost like a little game, how much you can do it before liu kang snaps.

johnny cage

• johnny couldn't ignore what you were doing, he would probably be under the delusion that you're sucking on it like that on purpose.

• takes several double takes throughout the day, having very little shame in being caught. he'd just grin at you and shrug after a light scolding.

• even when you put your lollipop onto your plate to eat or on the rare occasion you don't have one in, johnny's reeling over the tint to your lips. it looks like a pretty coat of lipstick, and johnny's hand squeezes so tightly on his chopsticks as his mind wanders, the boys wonder if it just might snap in two.

• it takes him some time, he doesn't want to come off as too weird after all, but at some point he draws the line when you flatten your tongue and swipe the lollipop down the entire length. johnny snatches it from your hand and puts it in his own mouth.

• could he recall the flavor, or is he too focused on your spit mixing with his? both! gross.

• winks at you as the stick dangles from his lips, trying not to lose his own mind over the taste.

• "i like this flavor," he cockily observes, pulling it out to inspect it. "tastes like you, sugar."

•...gross. did you even want to share? no. are you complaining? mm, not really.

kenshi takahashi

• kenshi cuts the habit short as soon as he notices. training is his priority. kicks, punches, slashes, the way the lollipop coats with your — NO.

• he coldly hisses orders at you to "spit that thing out." doesn't say why, doesn't say much other than that. what else could he say, "don't do that before i pop a hard-on?" are you crazy?

• speaking of kenshi, he's literally losing his mind over it but puts every ounce of anger he has accumulated since meeting johnny into hiding his expressions.

• "are you always this childish?" crossing his arms and rolling his eyes when you unwrap yet another one from your pocket... how many are in there?

• hell, he might even try to tell on you. might make a stabbing comment every now and then when you're all together to train. choking hazard this, immature that.

• he wants to do what johnny does and just get a taste, but he's not as graceful. yanking it from your lips after catching it on your teeth, kenshi throws it on the ground and stomps on it, shattering the sugary goodness all over the cobblestone floor. sad face :(

• you want to be mad, to rip him a new one for not knowing how to mind his own business, but you A) have more in your room, and B) notice his blatantly obvious red hue to his face, and you know it's not anger.

kung lao

• all the charm, none of the grace. help this man, the image of your mouth haunts him at the unholiest of hours.

• lao would, at times, flick the stick dangling from your lips just to make it crack against your teeth and make you whine in surprise. he'd shrug and walk off, like it was somehow your fault for having a lollipop in the first place.

• he's not oblivious to your subtle advances when your tongue swirls around the flavored orb, and he's no better.

• "you really are shameless, aren't you?" kung lao crosses his arms with a huff, trying to roll his eyes but looking away feels like an incomprehensible task.

• pesters you endlessly, asks about the flavor and brand and if they're just like the ones at home! but he's just doing it so he can admire the glossy tint to your tongue and lips from the artificial dyes.

• stares so hard, raiden has to heel him in the foot so he'd pay attention to liu kang's lectures and announcements. it's like he's the only one that can hear the amplified swirling in your mouth, and he probably is (that is, because he is straining himself to hear).

• lao would ask if you had any extra in your pocket (of course you do!) and pop one into his mouth himself, giving you a taste of what he's been losing his mind over as his pursed lips suck and play with the lollipop. you thought you could get away with toying with him, didn't you? now it's an even playing field!

raiden

• come on, champion, keep it together! everyone notices the static raising their hairs when they walk by. that, and he's white-knuckling the fabric of his robes so hard they might just tear. thank god for his hat, as it conceals both the sun and his creeping blush.

• the sassy man apocalypse infects even raiden. sure, he's not a timid guy in the slightest, but something about how you toy with the candy makes him feel weak in the knees.

• "do you really need to have one at all times?" he'd ask rhetorically as he tucks his hands under his armpits. "those are pretty unhealthy for you." you become a victim of his polite scrutinizing, insisting that that much candy is bound to have a negative effect on you. anything to get you to put that thing away so he doesn't shock the next person he touches.

• raiden is trained, he is disciplined, he knows better than to stare. but the moment you're in his peripherals, he's side-eyeing you so hard you wonder if he's trying to send a telepathic message.

• whining his name as you pathetically jump up to reach his extended arm, clawing at the fabric after he tore away your lollipop the moment you pulled it from your lips. your subtle pouting brings a smug smile to his face as he watches you fruitlessly attempt to climb up his body.

• "four before noon is more than enough," he tuts, looking up at the lollipop before getting a downright evil idea. he's well-mannered and well-spoken, but if the opportunity to toy with you arises, of course he's taking it. boldness is one of his wildcard traits!

• he pulls the lollipop down into his mouth, sucking it in before you have a chance to protest. staring in awe as raiden moves the lollipop around in his mouth, an eyebrow quirked as he stares down at you.

• "hm," he hums, grinning down at you with the stick between his teeth. "this is actually quite nice." and of course, you're too flustered to argue further, instead retreating to your room to get a new one - and calm down from that sight.

[ihavethedreamies]

In the Doghouse | Yeosang

Kang Yeosang - ATEEZ

Rating: M (18+) MDNI

Word Count: ~4.8k

Pairing: Dog-Hybrid!Yeosang x Cat-Hybrid!AFAB!Reader

Genre: Hybrid AU!, Historical/Period, Reader-Insert, Fluff, Smut, Some Plot, Strangers-to-Friends-to-Lovers

!!This is smut…if that much isn't clear you should probably leave now!! MDNI!

Warnings: She/Her Pronouns used, Pet Names (Kitten, Love), Swearing, Kissing, Biting/Marking, Bonding/Mating, Heat/Rut, Pheromones, Oral (F! Receiving), Unprotected Sex (This is pre-birth control so…), Breeding Kink (u3u)

Trigger Warning: There is some talk of abuse and/or neglect in this. It doesn't go into detail, but the reader in beginning is living with a cruel relative. It's not related to Yeosang or the relationship between the two. Also, Yeosang is a 'Police Dog', but there is very little talk of police and cops.

Author's Note: This is NOT Omegaverse, but they do both go into rut/heat. They have animals ears and tails and he's got a knotted doggy cock. Yeosang is supposed to be a Doberman, even though the breed wasn't in this time period. This is set in the late Victorian Era of London, and sorry if it's not completely accurate to the time.

I will be doing all the members and uploading them as I go. I normally like to upload a whole series at a time but I'm trying to pack to move.

-> Series Hub <-

🦁 Hongjoong's 🦁

🐻 Jongho's 🐻

🐯 San's 🐯

I am cross-posting this on Archive and Wattpad. Please reblog! If you know anyone that would like this or future fics but they aren't on here my name and icon are exactly the same on the other sites. Happy reading!

"Geddat fuckin' cat!" You heard the storekeeper’s shout echo through the narrow street as you dashed in the opposite direction. You clutched the bag closer to you, hoping to hide it from prying eyes. You purposefully wrapped your tail around your leg, hoping to make it less obvious, ears flattening to your head to blend in with your hair. Turning a narrow corner into an alley, you heard some footsteps against the cobblestone behind you, but they ran past where you had entered. Leaving the alley into the opposite street, you turned the way you had come, back toward your house. Sliding into another back alley, you placed the strings of the bag in your mouth. Without stopping, you jumped up onto the ladder hanging down from your second-story window. Climbing up the rungs, you pulled the window open all the way and jumped into your bedroom. Unhooking the rope and wood ladder from the windowsill, you reeled it in and shut the window. Panting for breath, you rested against the wall, sliding down so you were sitting on the floor. Heaving for air, you glanced at the bag that you had brought it, laying in a heap on the floor under the window. Finally, when you could breathe easily enough, you got on your knees so you could reach and grab the sack, opening it. Inside, the two loaves of bread were still steaming and your stomach rumbled in desire.

"Man, I wanna fish…" You sniffed in displeasure, tail whipping angrily behind you. It was bad enough you had to steal food to eat, but all you could typically manage was some bread or maybe potatoes. As you stood to close your door so you could enjoy your haul, you heard banging from downstairs. Someone was pounding on the door. You heard your aunt call for the person to hold on and you stood still, staring at the open door of your bedroom. Did they really find you? They never had before…

"Hello, madam. I hate to bother you, but I was told that a thief might have made their way into your second story window." You heard from down the hall, at the base of the stairs. Your eyes widened in panic and you prayed that your aunt would cover for you. Fat chance.

"Second story? You've got to… (Y/N) get down here, right now!" She screeched and your ears flattened at the noise. Stepping forward as quietly as you could, you stuck your head out just enough to look past the door frame to see your aunt standing halfway up the stairs. Her own tail was swinging back and forth with ire and her arms were crossed. The nastiest look you had ever seen was on her face and you clicked your tongue.

"What did you steal this time, you lazy stray!" She hissed and you shuffled out of the room, bag hanging limply from your hand at your side. There was a man in a police uniform in the doorway, and next to him…A dog hybrid. He was…beautiful, honestly. Prettier than you for sure. His hair was longer, with a slight wave at the end of the black strands, two tall, pointed ears sticking out from the top of his head. You couldn't see a tail, so it was probably docked into a nub. The hairs at the back of your neck and base of your tail rose, shoulders tensing as you got to the top of the staircase. His sharp eyes met yours, and you knew that's how they found you. Fucking police dogs…

"Give me that!" Your aunt swiped the bag from you, her claw-like nails scratching your hands, making you pull them back. Holding your other hand over the red marks, you glared hard at her when she opened the sack.

"Bread?! You stole bread?!" She hissed, fierce eyes searing holes into your skull.

"Maybe if you didn't fuckin' starve me, I wudduna had ta'!" You hissed back and you flinched as you saw her raise her hand.

"Now, madam, it’s nothing to harm her over. We'll take her to the station." A smooth, deep voice prompted you to open your eyes, seeing the guard dog holding the wrist of your nasty aunt. His grip was loose, so as not to dig his thick claws into your aunt's skin. He should have though… Your aunt took her arm away from him when he let her go and you were more willing to go with him then stay there any longer. Honestly, jail would be a welcome change. You followed the dog down the stairs and your aunt went as well, handing the stolen loaves to the human officer. With a strong hand on your bicep, the police dog led you further down the street, his partner following.

"Did you really steal because she starves you?" The elder officer asked you, his tone gentler than you expected. Your aunt wasn't poor, by any means, but you lived in what was equivalent to a storage room.

"I get a potato every other day if I don't." Your tail flicked nervously, ear flicking when a drop of water hit it. Glancing up at the sky, you sneered at the gathering clouds, feeling another drop land on your face. You wiggled your nose, feeling the drop most likely wash a trail of dirt off your face.

"She doesn't feed you any meat?" The dog furrowed his brow, letting you go, eyes zigzagging over you. It was evident your clothes were somehow too big and too small at the same time, and your boots were old.

"Alley bastards don't deserve meat." You spat out the words you were so used to hearing. It wasn't your fault that your mother slept with a commoner, but your aunt and grandparents took it out on you. The only reason your mother's sister took you in was because she got a tax cut for listing you as living with her.

"How old are you, Miss (Y/N)?" The human officer asked.

"Twenty…somethin'…" You weren't for sure, never celebrated your birthday.

"I think the baker will be willing to forgive if we return the bread. Yeosang?" The officer looked at the dog and you did as well.

"The poverty shelter doesn't take cats, does it? Just dogs?"

"Yessir." The dog, Yeosang, sighed, glancing back to you. The rain seemed to be waiting as well, only a few drops falling as you looked nervously between the two men. What were they going to do with you?

"She could stay with me, if that is alright with her." Yeosang cast you a look, his gaze warm and you blinked in shock. Charity? Wow, you had heard of it before…

"Any where’s better than auntie's…" Your tail was still whipping and the elder officer nodded with a hum.

"Thank you, son. You may get off your shift early. Make sure she gets a good hot meal." The human smiled warmly himself and headed off toward the bakery, bread bag in hand.

"Are ya sure? I'm notta hassle?"

"No, kitten. Let's get you some meat." The hand that had been on your arm went to your upper back so he could pull you to walk next to him, then he led you presumably to his home. Right as you got under the awning over his front door, the rain started to pour.

~*~*~

"Slow down, love. There's plenty." The dog was way gentler with you than you expected. His home was nice and warm, cozy, and smelled good. He had presented you with bread that he had bought the day before, as well as some cured meats, cheese, even some fruit. Not sure where to start, you reached carefully for a slice of summer sausage and then your vision went red, your appetite raring to full force. Yeosang huffed in amusement, able to hear the rapid purr you let out as you ate. When he had removed his uniform coat, he just had on a thin white button up underneath. The shirt did very little to hide the obvious muscle underneath, the buttons struggling to hold still over his chest. As you had started to eat, he rolled the sleeves up to above his elbow, showing toned forearms. He ate more leisurely, and once you were no longer ravenous, you slowed your pace. You took each chance you got to look over him, he was absolutely stunning.

"Yer' from the far east, yah?" You asked around a mouthful of different things you had just shoved in. He hummed with a nod and your eyes flicked to the water ewer he had set on the table and he poured some into a stein. Eagerly taking the drink, you chugged it down, a little bit of the water dripping past your bottom lip. Letting you a groaning exhale after you had gotten everything down, you slumped in your chair. You hadn't felt so full in so long and you weren't expecting to get a nice meal when you stole the bread.

"Are ya' like…a saint or somethin?" You asked, not sure why he would help you.

"Pardon me?"

"You know, like those folks in the Bible that help…saints or whatever…" Your nail clicked against the glass cup you were holding. You weren't very educated, but you tried to retain what little bit of information you had learned.

"Oh, um, no. I think I would just qualify as generous." He smiled bashfully and you let out an 'ah' in realization.

"Thanks for the meal…I um, I don't want to go home but…"

"You don't have to go back there, kitten." The dog smiled, his own pointed ear drooping a bit along with his pitying gaze. Normally that look pissed you off, but you just felt bashful then.

"Do you have somewhere I can go, then?"

"I told you; you can stay here. I have a spare room anyway. It's hard for women to find work, harder yet for a cat hybrid…" He paused to think it seemed.

"I-I can clean! Or, uh…well, I'm good at physical stuff, I can run…places." You weren't sure what else specifically you could do, your only 'skill' was cleaning. Or stealing.

"If you want to help with housekeeping, that's up to you. I am more worried how people might see a man and woman living together outside of marriage." The dog grimaced a bit.

"Oh. Right." You hadn't thought about that… It was one thing for normal everyday people, but he was a public officer.

"What if ya’ hire me? As yer' official housekeep? That wouldn't look suspect, yeah?" You offered.

"That would probably work. For now. Here." He stood up, motioning for you to follow him. You did so, going toward the narrow front entryway and then up the steep stairs to his second floor. There was a room to the left, but he let you into the one on the right, the door right on the landing. It was pretty bare, and to most, small. However, it was way bigger than where you had been before and had a real bed.

"I-I can really stay here?" You felt your throat tighten, stepping further in.

"Of course, love. Tomorrow we can figure out the details, why don't you get some sleep?" You turned back to look at him, that warm and sincere smile still present. Overcome with emotion, you pounced forward, wrapping your arms around his toned middle, cheek to his chest.

"Thank you, Yeosang!" You sniffed, trying not to bawl. He rested his hand on your head, thumb rubbing the back of your ear.

"You're welcome, (Y/N)."

~*~*~

Over the next two months, you lived the best days of your life. Yeosang had commented that his house had never looked so clean, even though it wasn't messy before. After the third day there, and you had thrown up from overeating, you paced yourself more. Finally, you were used to being well fed, and you no longer looked like you were actually starving. The second week you were there, he had taken you to a tailor and bought you two new outfits, ones that actually fit. You preferred the simple shirt and pants, but he also got you a simple dress that was a soft blue. You cried. You had been crying a lot, so touched by how sweet he was being.

One day, you were in the market to buy a few things. No one that you had stolen from in the past knew it was you. Combined with being healthy and clean, you were also in a nice dress and your hair was done.

"(Y/N)!?" The voice made you stop cold, hand still reaching for a squash on the seller's stall table. Your aunt.

"You stupid twat!" She screeched and before you registered where she was, her hand was in your hair, claws scratching your scalp. You yowled, dropping your basket, potatoes and apples rolling away. People gasped, turning to watch the fight, but not stepping in to help.

"I've had to pay more than ever now that you left! I had to pay a bloody fine as well, endangering a ward or something! You little whore! I know you're living with a man not your husband! What would your mother think, you raising your tail for a dog?!" She was screaming, hissing and spitting. You tried to get her to let you go, but not wanting to fight and ruin your dress. You knew the words she was speaking weren't true, but the people around didn't, and you didn't want the negative gossip to get back to Yeosang. When a blowing whistle hit your ears, you mewled in relief, rapid footsteps nearing. The horrible woman was pulled away from you, and you slumped into a pile, holding your head.

"(Y/N), are you okay, love?" Yeosang was quick to your side, looking over your head. A growl was rumbling in his chest as he shot a searing glare at the other woman. You didn't look up to see who the other officers were subduing her, burying your head in Yeosang's chest to hide.

"Oh, kitten." He whined, holding you to him. You wrapped your arms around his neck and he easily lifted you, carrying you toward home, ignoring the stares and whispers.

As you sat on the table, he dabbed at the scratches with a cloth dipped in alcohol, the disinfectant stinging. You winced again and he apologized, trying to be gentle.

"Did you hear what she said?" you whispered. Your eyes were glossing over the bottle next to you, brain trying to process the letters you saw. Yeosang had been teaching you, but you could only read the big word, 'VODKA'.

"It's not true, so it doesn't matter." he whispered back.

"Maybe…I should leave?" Your voice cracked, really not wanting to follow through with the suggestion. The cloth on your head left and he stepped back, hand on your chin to tilt your head back. He looked over your face, noticing your red blotchy cheeks and glossy eyes.

"Why?"

"Because…what if it comes back and hurts you…?" You sniffed, trying to avoid his eyes. His hand left your chin, but then both went to cup your cheeks.

"(Y/N), kitten, I would be heartbroken if you left." The dog's deep voice was so warm, soft, like his hugs.

"Yeah?" He wiped a tear away from your eye and smiled, leaning forward and pressing his forehead to yours.

"Yes. If you're so worried…" He drifted off, one hand leaving your jaw to take yours.

"What if we get married?" He finished and it was like time stopped. Your ears started to ring and you slowly lifted your head back up to look him in the eye again.

"What?" Your voice was so soft that if he wasn't a dog or another hybrid, he probably wouldn't have heard.

"(Y/N), I know it's only been a couple months, but I've fallen in love with you. I want you to stay with me." He brought your hand to his mouth, kissing your knuckles. You burst into tears then, crying hard, harder than you had before, babbling nonsense.

"I-I-I want to stay too!" You cried and he pulled you into his chest, thumb rubbing the back of your ear.

"Then?"

"I wanna be your wife." You mumbled, sniffing hard so you didn't drip snot on his uniform shirt.

The next few minutes were nearly a blur, your mind finally caught up as your back hit his bed, his lips fervently pressing to yours. His breath was heaving, chest rumbling and his sandalwood and rosewater scent was growing stronger. You felt like he was going to swallow you whole, and you wondered why it was said cats and dogs didn't get along. You had never felt so loved unconditionally and wholly but by Yeosang, a dog, despite that you were a cat. An alley cat at that. In that moment though, you truly saw him as a big, strong working dog, easily surrounding the little stray cat that had been taken into his home. But instead of growling and scaring the little kitty, the big pup had laid down and wrapped around the small cat, protecting and loving her.

"Your tongue's rough." He huffed in amusement, only pulling back a second before his mouth sealed back to yours, tongue wrapping around your smaller one. You whimpered and mewled, head growing hazy from his kisses. Your back arched as his mouth left yours, trailing to your jaw and down to your neck. As he unbuttoned your dress, he licked and sucked over the skin revealed, tugging at the fabric to get it over your breasts so he could shuck it off. The dress floated down to the floor behind him, settling on the floor with a flutter. Once you were down to your undergarments, nothing more than a thin chemise and light set of stays, he sat up to kneel over you. He had luckily taken his uniform jacket off earlier, because in his haste to remove his shirt, two of the buttons flew off, clattering against the wood floor. You had seen him shirtless before, but never had the chance to touch, so you had to take the chance. Yeosang chuckled, his ears drooping a bit in pleasure as your small, warm hands ran over the smooth skin of his chest and stomach. He really was physical perfection. Biting your lip, your hands went to work on his belt and he took the chance to untie your stays. You felt a little more air flow easier threw your lungs as he pulled the garment off and you squeaked as he moved. Quickly, so quickly, he pulled your chemise off as well, leaving you bare, and essentially picked you up and tossed you back up the bed. As you tried to get your bearings, you didn’t notice him resting his stomach on the bed.

“Y-Yeosang!” Your nails dug fast into the sheets as his long tongue lapped a path through your slit. A growl rumbled from him and his hands held your thighs apart so he could slide his tongue into your cunt, the feeling made you twitch and shiver. He was breathing so hard through his nose you felt the puffs of air against your clit, tail flicking against the bed. Something was rising fast in your tummy, and he could feel your gummy walls clench unevenly around his tongue. The dog’s nose bumped your clit once more and you nearly squealed as your orgasm hit. He eagerly drank up the slick that flowed from you, licking his chops as he pulled away once you were done. He smiled down at you, softly, admiring your red face and heaving chest. Before you could really come to reality, he had flipped you onto your stomach. There was some rustling, and you had been too busy trying to register what had just happened, the next thing you knew, his bare body was laying over yours. He didn't rest down too hard, he was bigger and heavier, but you shivered at his skin on yours, hard chest to your back. You shivered as his hard cock nestled in the crook your ass.

"Big as my fuckin' arm…" You huffed to yourself and he chuckled, biting his lip, chest rumbling.

"Think your sweet cunt can take it?" His deep voice right in your ear was in itself orgasmic and your core was rapidly heating. You were pretty sure you hadn't had a heat in so long from being in poor health, and so it seemed your system needed to compensate. Your whole body was rapidly rising in temperature, he could tell from where his skin pressed to yours. The delightful scent of vanilla and lavender you normally exuded was growing stronger, the aroma filling his lungs. You whimpered when his strong arm wrapped under your stomach, lifting your hips into the air as he grinded his cock against your weeping folds. He wasn't normally one for crass language like you, but he was spewing sweet filth as you tried to formulate a thought to respond. The heat was nearly growing painful, and even though he was huge and you inexperienced, you needed him inside.

"Such a pretty pussy, kitten. Bet it's leaking so much to let me in. Take my cock and my knot." He groaned when he ran his thumb up your slit, gathering your slick that was nearly dripping from your core.

"Want me to ruin your cunt, love? Split you open, fuck you silly, then pump you full. I wonder if a kitty can even get pregnant by a dog. Guess we'll find out…" It seemed your heat was sending him into a semi-rut, his mind was full of nothing but sinking into you and fucking you into the mattress. He had honestly wanted to for weeks but had tried to keep the thoughts away.

"Y-Yeosang! Please!" You mewled, nails digging into his pillow, tail flailing back and forth. You yowled when his strong hand grabbed your tail at the base, wrapping some of the length around his fist, tugging on it. He smirked as your cunt let out another glob of slick from the sensation, your rapid purr growing in strength.

"Not just my wife, but my mate. Want your womb to hold my pups." The male chuckled, adjusting to press the fat head of his leaking cock against your core. You shivered, a bit worried he was too big, but you needed him. And his knot.

"Hold on, kitten." He licked his lips to prevent the saliva that had gathered from leaking, holding the base of your tail and hip for leverage. Your breath hitched, cunt spasming as he started to press in. He watched in delight as your folds eagerly stretched and sucked his cock in, even more slick spilling out, leaving a puddle on his bed. The base of his cock had already started to swell a bit, but he wasn't going to knot you so soon. No, he was going to have his way with you for a good long while first.

"Fuck!" You squealed, claws puncturing his bedding, teeth digging into the pillow. His hot cock was searing through you, the burn of the stretch just fueling the fire in your womb further. Tears sprung to your eyes and you gasped for air, intense waves of pleasure crashing over you, sending you to climax before he was even halfway in. Yeosang felt your gummy walls clench and pulse around him, and he threw his head back, tongue lolling out of his mouth as he groaned. The grip on your tail tightened just a bit and you keened at his slow ease, but his restraint was wavering.

"J-just do it, 'Sang~" You mewled, sparks of arousal shooting up your spine from your tail. He didn't hesitate with your consent, and he snapped his hips to bury the last few inches into your hot vice. Your vision spotted as the head of his dick pressed at your womb, hips pressed to your backside. He sat there for a bit, letting you get used to the searing pleasure, grinding down into you every so often. As he heard your breathing even out a bit more, you let out a big shudder and he released your tail, falling forward so his hands caught him on the bed. The dog let out a small whimper, furrowing his brow. A clawed hand went to your sternum and he helped you hold yourself up on your arms so your back was parallel to his chest. His nose ran over your shoulder, right new to your neck and your body tensed in preparation, your cunt tightening even further. With a little lick, his teeth dug into your skin, and he sucked and licked as he bit, sealing you as his mate. Your eyes rolled back into your head, most of your strength leaving you as you came again, spurts of slick drenching his groin and balls. Pulling back from the mark, he licked the blood away and you fell onto your chest, using what little strength you had left to grip the already torn sheets.

"Ready?" He didn't wait for your response, slowly puling his hips back, cock halfway in, then fucked back into you. You yelped, his rapid and hard pace was immediate, no build up, and your brain ended up as fucked as your cunt. You were babbling and mewling, tail thrashing before he gripped it once more, holding your hips still as his battered against your ass. His free hand snaked down to your stomach, and he groaned at the shallow bulge that would form each time he buried to the hilt, your tiny body straining to take him. You bit the pillow again, using it to muffle your scream as he plowed through another one of your orgasms. His thrusts grew shallower, burying deep each time and fucking back in just by an inch, hard and grinding. Your eyes crossed when the base of your core started to burn once more, pussy searing as his knot started to swell. He whimpered between grunts and growls, head thrown back, sweat slick black strands tickling his upper back.

"I'm going to breed you, kitten. Fill you with my seed till you have my pups. Even if it takes all night." He groaned as your cunt fluttered once more and he gave one more hard thrust, letting his knot swell. You gasped and heaved at the feeling; he hadn't even begun to cum yet. When the hot spurts started to fill you, flooding your weeping womb, you nearly passed out. The sticky fluid dowsed the fire that your body had set and his hips jolted with each squirt, pressing as deep as he could. As the waves of his orgasm faded, he let your tail go, falling forward once more, heaving for breath himself. You were breathing heavily, but otherwise quiet and he glanced down to look at your face. You were still conscious, barely, eyes staring blankly at the wall, tears drying on your cheek and drool had left a dark spot under your mouth. Gently, so much so compared to his rough fucking, he pet your hair, pulling a few strands away from your sweaty brow.

"I love you, (Y/N)." He whispered and he noticed your lips quirk gently into a small smile.

"Love you too~"

-> Series Hub <-

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[shadow-fell]

Notes on Cazador's Spawn

Mostly for my own reference but hey, someone else might find it useful.

Cazador Szarr becomes the Master Vampire of Baldur's Gate in 1276 (list of master vampires) completing the Rite of Perfect Slaughter on his master, Vellioth.

Astarion's gravestone gives his years as 229-268 DR. There are two assumptions we can make here: the first is that this is just being written without the 1, so he's turned in 1268 DR. The second is that it isn't DR, but instead meant to be Northreckoning - which would make the dates 1261-1300 DR.

We have a few choices here: if it is in DR, either the 1276 date is wrong, or Astarion was somehow turned before Vellioth was killed. Because of that, I think it's a bit easier to assume NR, especially since he's "one of the first" and not "the first". But this is a bit nitpicky.

For the rest of the spawn:

Petras is around ~1390 ("one hundred years eating rats and dogs" from the Flophouse convo)

Yousen is around ~1430 ("only sixty years" after Cazador's defeat)

Dalyria was Physician General to the Parliament of Baldur's Gate (journal). The Parliament of Peers was founded in the mid-1400s, so she would have been turned after this point ~1450

Leon is at least from 1486 (6 years of favored spawn) maximum ~1480 (turned while Victoria is alive based on diary)

Violet and Aurelia have nothing that concrete. However, Violet does offer a prayer to Kelemvor after Cazador's defeat, so I'm going to assume she didn't pick up worship of a new god as a vampire, which makes her turning after Kelemvor's ascension in 1358.

This leaves us with like a century gap, with Astarion (and maybe Aurelia) being turned around 1300 and everyone else in the 1400s. But there's an answer to that as well...Jaheira and Astarion have a party banter

Astarion: Cazador always warned us to stay clear of this neighbourhood. Never said why, though. Jaheira: The last spawn who tried was sunk into the cobblestones and left for the sun to find. I had an unfortunate taste for theatrics, in my youth. Astarion: Ah. Yes, that was probably it.

The original BG games are set 1368/69 - so probably around then or shortly after is when Jaheira killed at least one of the spawn; we can assume there's a few more that got killed and replaced in the 1400s to get back up to magic number seven.

(more on the Szarrs below the cut)

The Szarrs were a merchant family. In 1479, they had been wiped out in an attack that destroyed their home in Tumbledown in the Outer City, leaving only Cliffside Cemetery within large caverns, and which were home to strange lights that could be seen from the river. Rumors about the Szarrs being seen as ghosts were commonplace.

The crypts under the Szarr Mansion we see in BG3 are the Tourmaline Depths, discovered by Donnela Szarr the architect - based on the article while she was Master Vampire in 1138-1204, but potentially earlier. I think it is reasonable to assume that the Depths are connected to the Cliffside Cemetery and Szarr family crypts underground (deeper than the Sewers or Undercity).

Amanita Szarr, or Lady Incognita, has a series of journals dated to 1477 recounting her turning.

Alturiak: describes that she was raised near Anga Vled, and rarely visited her 'Uncle' Cazador

Tarsakh: summoned on her thirteenth birthday

Mirtul: references every living (well, vampire) Szarr as Uncle Cazador, Granddam Fistula, Great-Aunt Dralia, and Cousin Blovart.

Kythorn: describes being turned, imprisoned in the attic. for refusing to participate. Then she drank human blood, and at least a year later, sent up a captive.

Flamerule: "succumbed" and declares herself Lady Incognita.

These span over 6 months (skips Ches after Alturiak). Reasonably, I think these were written during the period of the "captive" sent up, which puts her turning proper probably in 1476, born ~1462. We can probably date the death of her parents to be the killing of the Szarrs, while she was very young. About 15 years before 1479 is perfect time for a ghost story to develop while gangs to take over.

(Anga Vled is a gnomish village between Baldur's Gate and Elturel, along the Risen Road - so not far at all from where Act1/2 are set)

If we assume that the relations Amanita describes are accurate, the tree would look like this. Given that they're an elven family (or at least, Cazador is elven) that means we have a lot of space to work with, timeline wise, but the quotes around 'uncle' might mean he's actually Dralia's son or Amanita's great uncle, to give a bit more space.

??? (Donella Szarr?) |-------| Dralia Fistula |-------|--------| Cazador ??? ??? | | Blovart Amanita

The question is: if the Szarr family are all vampires, then what does it mean that they haven't shown up? And that Vellioth was apparently not a Szarr but was still the Master Vampire (and definitely in charge over Cazador?) Who turned them?

My personal theory goes something like this:

Donnela Szarr, wealthy (but not Patriar) elven merchant has at least two children, Dralia and Fistula (probably not real name because come on)

some time from 1019-1138, Donnela Szarr, while investigating the tombs below her family's estate, encounters Hideous Gathwycke and is turned as his spawn.

1138, Donnela Szarr kills him and becomes Master Vampire

Donnela turns Vellioth

Donnela potentially turns her children to grant them immortal life

1204, Vellioth kills Donnela, becomes Master Vampire

Vellioth takes control of the Szarr family (intimidation, magic, or potentially turning Dralia/Fistula, if they're his spawn and not Donnela's)

Cazador is turned by Vellioth (at least 1260, probably earlier)

1276, Cazador completes the Right of Perfect Slaughter

~1460, other Szarrs die; Amanita sent to the countryside.

~1475 Amanita turned

I imagine that Cazador was fairly young when Donnela was killed (young enough to not be turned yet), and knew Vellioth already, even if it might have been some time before he was turned. I'd put him at no more than 100 when Vellioth becomes Master Vampire; their relationship (and "martinet") feels very 'strict teacher' which makes me wonder if he was a tutor beforehand.

The debate is whether the Szarrs were killed for mundane reasons (rival merchants), by vampire hunters, or by Cazador himself. If he killed them, it might be for refusal to let him turn them into vampires (Blovart as the exception), or some level of sibling rivalry? Amanita's parents are presumably not vampires since she was turned, but that doesn't remove the chance of monster hunters.

Based on the timeline, Blovart may have died sometime after Lady Incognita's entries, placing Leon as his replacement for the seven spawn (maybe the Favoured Spawn room was his by default, and became a competition after? The fact it only goes back 6 years is interesting). Perhaps related to how she left or died herself.

Dralia and Fistula's absence might be that they don't live with him, but I could also see if they discovered the Rite of Ascension and tried to usurp him and got killed for it. Cazador is fascinated by the idea of family, and I could see him very much wanting to keep his family intact but also has no qualms about killing his own mother / aunt if they actually posed a threat to his real goals.

All of this + the Lady Incognita stuff is very rough, presumably a lot of it having been cut with the Upper City/shift in direction for Cazador's story. For more links/information, there's also this masterlist.

[cattimeswithjellie]

Stream Recap, DocM77, 07/06/24

In which Doc is trapped in the sky and given birthday love and harassment by both his hermit friends and the Chat. He harvests a lot of cherry wood and acquires a valuable moss block after a base tour with Pearl and her llama ends in tragedy. ((I have not recapped the llama tour itself because it is admirably covered in Pearl's video and will probably feature prominently in Doc's Friday video as well.)) False stops by to tease him and Ren pays a visit to hear about Doc's new plan to darken the server with a massive cobblestone ceiling.

9:00 Doc opens his stream in studio view with one minute left on the clock, during the playing of his channel intro song. He headbangs along with the song, declares how great it is, and welcomes the Chat. Today is Doc’s birthday and he is severely emotionally compromised. Not only has everything gone wrong for him in game with losing the court case, it has been one month since his big sub jump and he was not able to stream last week, so his sub count has gone back to 900 from a high of 5000. He specially greets all the single ladies and talks about the chat he had with Ren about there being many single ladies in the stream chats. Ren turned on his facecam to appeal to the single ladies in his stream but feels moral qualms about it. Doc laugh and admit that he is making all of this up. He welcomes the DCP (Doc Collaboration Project, his artist collective) back from TwitchCon in Amsterday

12:00 Doc tells Chat that today he has set the Doccy Fund (now renamed Birthday Fund) to $7777.77 with the assumption that some millionaire will happen into the stream today and fill it up because it is his birthday. If he has learned anything from the court case where he was branded an enormous baby and banished to the sky to beg items off his friends, it is that whining can be effective to get what you want. Chat points out that TwitchCon was in Rotterdam. Doc shrugs this off, he never goes to TwitchCon anyway. A chatter sends a tongue-in-cheek birthday message, Doc admits that he doesn’t really look forward to birthdays anymore because it just means getting older. He decides that from now on he will conceal his real age (notwithstanding the “77” in his handle) and workshops the sexiest age to be with the single ladies in chat. It is now Chat’s job to spread the word that Scar is 48 years old and Doc is 33. Doc starts to tell a joke about how he was looking through the adult ads in the local paper the other day, then abruptly decides he is not going to tell that joke.

13:40 Doc thanks subs and donos. He opens the game and logs into Hermitcraft, where he is on his Skyblock island. Someone has covered his dirt blocks with lit candles and there is a cake with a sign wishing him a happy 77th birthday, with love from Cleo. Doc is initially upset, but calms down when he realizes this is a birthday gift. There is also a sympathetic and condescending message from Skizz telling him that being stuck up here is the only way Doc will reflect on his actions. Given recent events, Doc has to check every inch of his base to make sure nothing has been stolen, after which he can eat some cake. Someone has also named the sheep “Doc’s Only Friend.” Chat thinks that is very funny.

15:30 Doc rants a bit about how all of this is so unfair, then wonders if anyone is going to bring him any useful gifts. What he really needs is some moss blocks so he can make a bonemeal farm. These candles are next to useless and they are making his base too cute. Candles and cake and pink fences take away from the whole Fortress of Solitude look. Doc informs in-game chat that he is online and streaming, and thanks subs and donos. He stares longingly over at his shop, then tells Chat about how yesterday he was filming the outro for his new video and reminds everyone that the new TCG cards are coming out soon, some of them worked on by the DCP. His cards are taking longer than usual because he does not get back to the artists (especially SubToMumbo) with feedback in good time. Chat points out that Doc has already claimed SubToMumbo is his fandom alt. He is hoping for Goatfather and Docmaid as his alter ego cards.

20:00 A chatter says Doc is aging like fine wine. He says that fine wine aging means it just gets more sour, and at his age it means just rotting from the inside. But he wants to do something useful today! He wants to grow more cherry trees, for a start. He begins picking up the candles and lets out a truly headphone-demolishing “NOOOOOOOO” as he accidentally breaks one of his precious dirt blocks and sends it plummeting to earth. Chat is both deafened and bereft. Doc has now lost two dirt blocks and he cannot afford that kind of lack of concentration. He needs to make a lower floor, stat. He shows chat the boat on his hotbar and explains that if he does fall, he’s going to try and boat MLG so he doesn’t touch the ground. He also blames Chat for the loss of the dirt block.

22:20 Despite the setback, Doc has plans for today which include growing cherry trees both for wood and to collect leaves for his composter. He’s down to 15 iron blocks now and really needs an iron farm, but he still has the shears he used to cut leaves for the cobble farm. A chatter makes a large gift of subs, which makes Doc feel a lot better. He tells Chat that what he wanted for his birthday IRL was just to go out to dinner with Karin. She works for a newspaper and got an insider tip about a restaurant that is about to get a Michelin star but that is currently not overexposed and still has good prices. They went there and had a lovely meal. Doccy was there too and behaved very well, asking frequently “Papa, am I fancy?” Doccy was extremely popular and got free dessert. Chat thinks this story is adorable. Doc doesn’t typically want to bribe for good behavior with sweets, but he made an exception this once. He also got a card and little present from Doccy, who is left-handed and still writes upside-down.

27:20 A cherry tree grows, big skyblock excitement! Doc thanks subs and donos, who are being quite generous this morning. He says this birthday is great, makes him forget he’s trapped in Skyblock. Chat is much better than YouTube commenters, who can still be obnoxious after all the years Doc’s been dealing with them. One commenter on the new video went on a super-obnoxious rant about how Doc isn’t smart because he didn’t make a giant grass platform to easily spawn all the friendly mobs he could need for food and wool. Doc walks to the edge of the platform and looks out over the vast, grassy world spread out beneath him and points out that this is not actually Skyblock, he is not playing in an empty void where animals have only one place to spawn. Chat joins him in mocking the commenter.

29:20 Doc says someone told him he could plant a golden carrot for regular carrots. Chat tells him that is not a thing. Doc tries it anyway. It does not work. He thanks subs and donos, then begins harvesting his new trees. Today is Day 3 of Doc’s Skyblock exile, and the plan is mostly chill. Doc doesn’t want to build anything very big on stream because he wants to save big tech jumps for the video, but he can grind out some resources for those things. Doc tells the story of why he could not stream last week: Karin was sick and Doccy wanted to go to the swimming pool, and family always comes first. But Doc really is trying to keep his consistent streaming schedule so he can build subs and avoid having to take product endorsements. Chat is supportive of Doc’s priorities.

35:30 Doc shears leaves and talks about his Skyblock experience so far. Docs feels a lot of pressure due to his technical Minecraft skills to always be pushing forward on everything, including Skyblock. A lot of people expect him to be going full-bore even starting from nothing, and there’s some pressure there to perform. He tells Chat that the Hivemind is currently extremely busy with the jump to 1.21 and there is some very exciting and confusing stuff coming up! He can’t talk too much about it until it is ready to display on video, because the Technical Minecraft community is very competitive and even a whiff of a clue will get everyone looking in the same direction for the next new thing. He tells Chat elaborate lies about his text-to-voice mod and about the single ladies sliding into his DMs, then admits it’s all a lie and everyone knows he has a partner. But he has checked on a few of the more active “single ladies” in chat just to make sure they are actually adults.

43:00 Doc uses up his shears well before he runs out of leaves and resorts to just chopping the rest of the cherry wood. Chat suggests hitting Mumbo up for some more iron. Doc points out that even without actual checking, some people are active enough in the community over the years that you learn what they look like and their basic facts just from longevity and proximity. Some of Doc’s chatters have been around for 10+ years. “StalkM77,” jokes Chat. A chatter asks why Doc doesn’t just waterstream down and grab his gear from his chest. Doc says he could probably do that, but it would be against the spirit of the punishment and also make for less good content. Doc also doesn’t want to take Cleo’s suggestion of placing blocks to hop or bridge across the ground, but he may build a flying machine. He points out that this whole exercise is voluntary in the sense that the other Hermits can’t exactly force him into the sky, but this is a good way to ensure Cleo doesn’t have a grudge against him for the rest of the season.

48:00 The real problem with this exile is that the Ore Snatcher now has the opportunity to do their terrible deeds unopposed. Doc has seen the messages from YouTube commenters about how some of them are tired of the storyline and want it to stop, but this is a storyline Doc has no control over! It goes however long the Ore Snatcher wants it to, and Doc just has to go crazy on his Skyblock in the meantime. Doc admits he knows it is Cub. Chat is not sure, but Doc is sure. This is in Cub’s wheelhouse and only he would have the dedication. The only think Doc doesn’t know is Why? He hasn’t done anything to Cub this season. He ridicules the outlier theory that he has an evil alter ego and is doing it to himself.

51:00 The only way to stop Cub is to catch him red-handed. Doc thanks subs and donos again, he is getting quite a few but his hype train is still on cooldown. Chat is sympathetic to Doc’s exile and think maybe he should’ve had a better lawyer. Doc discusses the giant baby defense, which was funny but ultimately useless. He admits that hiring Joe was sort of an accident. He threatened Cleo in chat with hiring Joe due to Joe’s convoluted style of argument, and was surprised when Joe jumped in immediately to accept the job. Saying no at that point might have hurt Joe’s feelings, and it cannot be argued that Joe does have a very creative mind. Doc notices some lag on the server and asks Xisuma if he’s running his copper farm. Copper farms put a lot of strain on the server.

57:00 A chatter gives Doc a dono to help offset the emotional distress caused by Skyblock and suggests Doc get his husband to help him out. Doc says Ren has already helped him ((Ren provided him with nine sand blocks and a grass block in Doc’s last episode)). He plants some more saplings, saying his mid-term mission is to get enough wood to not have to worry about it for awhile. He flirts with the single ladies of Chat, then makes it clear that anyone in Chat under 30 should not count themselves as the focus of his flirtation, though men can also count themselves among the single ladies if they would like. He tells the story about the time he went to the sauna when it was Ladies Day and nobody told him and he didn’t realize why there were so many women there.

1:05:40 Doc is losing his mind stuck up on the Skyblock. He also needs to start watching his alcohol choices because yesterday he drank one glass of wine and got a nasty stomachache from it. He drinks so rarely these days he’s got no tolerance anymore. The older folks in chat sympathize. By the time you get to 40, Doc says, there’s hardly any regular casual drinking, you either drink rarely or you’re an alcoholic. He thanks subs and donos again. Doc tells a story about his dad, who had two beers every night for years and who seemed completely chill about it until they were in a situation where he couldn’t get his evening beer and it became clear that he had a real physical dependency on it. Talking to his dad about it didn’t turn out well and his dad was not a good person in general. He has not talked to his dad in about 20 years now. Doc’s grandfather was his male role model and his grandfather didn’t drink at all, which was strange in a village where all the social life revolved around alcohol.

1:14:00 Doc gets distracted by talking about Berliners with very large bottles of alcohol just walking around after work. He’s not a fan. A chatter asks what beer Doc likes and he says he likes the beer Methodz brews but not really anything else. He’s a cocktail guy when he drinks, he likes a gin and tonic with a bit of ice. Doc investigates the “mixed drink” golden carrots that Kerlis gave him, which is reskinned as a pina colada. Doc sings the song and advises Chat not to drink. It’s not really that great. It’s not so much a social lubricant as it just makes people obnoxious. Being a little tipsy at a party is fine, but more is not good.

1:20:00 Doc remembers he wanted to make some bonemeal. He feeds leaves into the composter and collects the bonemeal. He tells the story of a time when he’d been out with a group of couples and they’d all been with their drinks, and one of the women in the group still got roofied. They took care of her and she was safe, but it was weird and scary. Some people are just messed up. A chatter makes a big donation, Doc thanks them and makes a joke about sugar daddies and mommies. He tells a story about going to visit some very wealthy family friends and meeting weird people there. A chatter asks if Ren isn’t Doc’s only single lady on the server. Doc laughs and says Ren is great, and that’s why Ren is his husband. Or wife, or something. He just knows the fans like that sort of thing. He repeats his mini-rant about complicated flags and how the Jolly Roger is the only really good flag. Chat laughs at him and calls him an old man.

1:30:00 A chatter makes a very large donation with a text-to-voice saying “Happy birthday, also Cleo said she’s going to kill your sheep in front of you.” Doc becomes very distracted by all of this. He says this news is bittersweet, with the money and the sheep at the same time. He jokes about how he’s going to max out the donation bar and take a two week vacation to Thailand, except that Karin would kill him. Thailand is great, he assures Chat, but it’s also very expensive and his priorities have changed now that Doccy is around. He describes Doccy sitting on their bed in the morning singing a song about how life is great and it is very cute. He looks at Doccy and all he wants to do is protect them and make sure that they are never afraid ever.

1:33:50 A chatter asks if Doccy is bilingual, Doc says yes, to a certain degree, but they are not trying to teach them specifically. Kids just pick up the language that is spoken to them. A chatter asks if Doccy likes Minecraft yet, but Doccy has minimal screentime yet. Doccy did like the Perimeter and considered it “Home” on Hermitcraft 9. They also knew Decked Out and had a very cute interaction with Dungeon Master Tango. Chat remembers that moment very fondly.

1:37:00 Once you have kids, Doc explains, everything changes, and you don’t want as many things for yourself anymore. He thinks that is why so many dads end up with socks and wallets for Father’s Day, because it’s hard to think of thinks you actually want. A chatter tells Doc that Cleo has been running interference for him with the other Hermits and has stopped several pranks on his Skyblock already, including Skizz killing his sheep. She says she and Doc are friends now. Doc says that Skizz should not be interfering in this punishment, he is a lawyer and it is against his probation rules or bar exam or something like that. Another chatter suggests spreading the love of chickens across the server, Doc would like to do that but he hasn’t managed to get hold of a chicken yet. He looks over the edge, just in case there might be a chicken around.

1:40:40 Now that Doc has bonemeal, he can bonemeal grass blocks and get seed, which he does. He grabs hold of his lead and decides to go down a little ways to see if chickens will appear. He creates a water column and, after being distracted by a dono, heads down the stream. He sees a chicken! The chicken is too far away to respond to his seed, or his pleading and whistling, or him calling it a stupid-ass chicken. Chatters suggest a fishing rod, but Doc doesn’t have a fishing rod. Someone says break his carrot on a stick, but that’s not a thing. He waits through the night and goes back out to get the chicken, already deciding that this is stupid to do on stream and also that Chat is being really unhelpful. A chatter says that using up all the durability on a carrot stick will return a fishing rod, but Doc does not have a pig. If only there were a pig conveniently located just underneath the skyblock and not a pig head sitting in Doc’s base…

1:50:00 Doc drops another water stream and starts sinking. The chicken is still pretty far away. Doc explains to chat that an MLG bucket clutch from a height might save his life but it would count as touching the ground and is still bad. He watches the chicken approaching and is excited until the chicken turns and dives down a ravine. He unnleashes another headphone-killing NOOOOOOO as Chat howls with laughter. There is still another chicken though, and also an egg. He still has a chance, but he is definitely going to fall if he keeps looking at chat. Doc moves the water column and tries again. He laughs at how chat has slowed down and subs and donos paused because everyone is glued to the screen and watching to see if he falls. This time he manages to catch the chicken with the lead and drags it back up the water stream. Doc admits he is sweating. He gets back to the platform and tells everyone they can unclench as soon as he has the chicken at the base.

2:00:00 Doc scoots the chicken around the edge of the base to find a good place to pull the chicken up. After a close call with some lava, he gets the chicken safely tethered to the side of his house. Doc takes a relaxation break and mines more wood, then takes a quick bio-break.

2:06:00 Doc comes back and is momentary bamboozled by chatters claiming the chicken died, but it is fine. A little close to some lava, but far enough to be safe. Doc scolds chat for organizing so quickly to troll him. He goes back to harvesting wood, because you can’t have enough of crappy pink wood. He tells Chat that he knows they are a good audience because the Hermitcraft hermits have spent years brainwashing their audiences into behaving. A chatter asks what happened to the oak Doc was collecting before, he says he got enough apples and oak is much more annoying to grow than cherry, with fewer saplings and sticks and less wood per tree. A chatter says that Hermitcraft is honestly the best TV show on YouTube and Doc agrees. He points out that if you added up all the group views from some of the most popular seasons, they probably did better than a lot of TV shows out there. If they got those views on Netflix, they’d be rich! Netflix needs to come after Hermitcraft. Chat suggests House of Goat for a name.

2:12:00 Doc and Chat bluesky about a Netflix treatment of Hermitcraft. Chatters are torn between a documentary about Hermitcraft and a Minecraft Story Mode treatment of the storylines. Doc concedes that production companies only think in the short term and if they were going to do a show about SMPs, it would be some flash in the pan that blows up, not something that is solid for a decade. And a lot of YouTubers are very young and inexperienced and can much more easily be trapped into bad contracts. Doc is musing aloud about this phenomenon when he notices Pearl is standing on his roof. Chat is very happy to see Pearl.

2:16:50 Pearl asks Doc if he wants to go on an excursion. The events that follow have been documented well (and hilariously) by Pearl in her “Malicious Compliance” Hermitcraft episode and will almost certainly feature heavily in Doc’s next episode as well, so don’t really need to be recapped here. The episode is _very_ worth watching, but the TLDW is that Pearl drags Doc on a llama to see her finished flower shop, Doc is terrified the whole time but not too terrified to take a crack at getting into an ender chest when he has a chance, accidentally shifts while doing so and touches the ground, and then gets blown up by a creeper Pearl accidentally navigates the llama close to. (The llama is fine.) Doc respawns on the skyblock, Pearl gives him back his things and offers to keep the secret, but Chat has already snitched. Pearl feels bad and goes to get Doc a block of moss to make up for it.

2:38:30 A chatter donates for text-to-voice and tells Doc that the shop does not count as “ground,” so no extra time. Doc and Chat are excited by the possibility of a loophole. Some chatters say that blocks Pearl placed count as “ground” and only Doc-placed blocks are “not-ground,” but it’s enough of a theory to hang a possible legal defense on. He decides the best way to proceed is to pretend to still be upset so he still gets the moss block, and to build up his XP again to conceal the fact that he ever died. Pearl comes back and gives him the moss block and wishes him good luck with finding loopholes. She leaves. Doc decides it was overall a good trip because he got an apple, a horn, a moss block, some wither roses and A LOOPHOLE. ((Also some cyan dye, for those keeping score at home.)) He was a little distraught at first, but he thinks this loophole is going to work for him. Chat encourages Doc to write a message to Pearl to keep her from feeling bad about the accident, he writes to her and tells her not to worry, loophole.

2:44:00 Chat argues with itself about the definition of ground and the validity of the loophole. Doc knows that Cleo is going to find out about this eventually and wanted to not be in the position of arguing semantics and the fine points of the rules, mostly because he’s pretty sure Judge Bdubs will solve edge cases by coin toss. Doc is back to regretting his life choices. Pearl dies to a zombie and Doc tuts about it, saying things aren’t really that bad, she doesn’t need to go killing herself over it. Doc’s chest is almost full, he needs to make another one. It’s also extremely chaotic and he misses his storage system. But he has a moss block now, and that is huge. He could make a moss farm. The thrill of skyblock is that any new block he gets opens new frontiers of possibility.

2:50:00 Doc plants more trees and tries to relax as he explains how he accidentally shifted. Pearl pulled him far enough away to close the ender chest inventory just as he was shift-clicking something into his inventory. Without being in an inventory screen, the shift was a dismount command and the rest is hopefully-loopholeable history. Chat is still quibbling with itself about the loophole, but everyone is distracted when “Oh my god HI!” starts playing again and again overhead, and a Hermit arcs in for a landing. It’s Falsesymmetry! Chat is happy to see False.

2:52:30 Doc, who is a ittle on edge after his previous visitor, demands to know what False wants. False plays hurt, saying she hasn’t even been here before and she wants to know what he’s been up to! Doc explains that he can’t trust anyone right now because Pearl just threw him on the ground and it was only his masterful reflexes that allowed him to land safely on some stairs. False is baffled at how Pearl could’ve thrown him on the ground, Doc says it’s a long story. False wishes him a happy 77th birthday, like it says on the cake. Doc, who hadn’t read the sign before, is a bit shocked. False tells him sympathetically that eyesight does get bad when you get old. Doc has to agree with that and says that he’s gotten to the age now where he has to hold things away from himself to read them.

2:54:00 Doc asks False how TwitchCon was, and mentions she met some of the DCP members. She is not familiar with the name, but did meet the artists. One of the artists is in chat and pleased to be remembered, False does the OMG HI horn at them. Doc realizes now that it was a horn and laughs, saying that it didn’t really sound like False and it confused him. She responds with a barrage of OMG HI, both spoken and horn form, that soon has Doc cowering under the trees and Chat yelling along. False remarks that this is great because Doc can’t go anywhere. Doc says it’s not great, but he definitely isn’t going anywhere now after his Pearl “adventure.” He explains that Pearl took him out the way one takes a dog on a walk. False remains baffled, but Doc tells the abbreviated story of the llama walk, leaving out the stair-touch. False thinks this might require additional time added to his sentence, but Doc suddenly redirects the conversation to the possibility of False being the Ore Snatcher. He hadn’t suspected her before, but she could well be!

2:56:40 False thinks it’s Cub. Doc knows it is Cub. False demands to know why he’s blaming her, then! Doc can’t be sure, not until he catches Cub red-handed. He knows it’s not False, though. False wishes it were her, because she could use some diamond ore. Doc tells her that when he gets down, he is going to make the Ore Snatcher everyone’s problem because everyone will be so miserable that they will find the ore snatcher just to appease Doc’s wrath. False points out that this seems like a pretty good case for keeping Doc on the Skyblock and out of the way. She flies away, leaving Doc to grumble that they don’t know he has a record up here, which means MOTIVATIONAL QUOTES FOR EVERYONE! Last season Tango didn’t like the quotes at Decked Out, so Good Guy Doc restricted the range, but no more of that! He might just do an enormous loop of himself whining and play it for everyone on the server. Chat points out that Doc is not beating the giant baby allegations.

3:00:00 Doc demonstrates his most annoying whining techniques. ((The recapper has a brief traumatic flashback to her own preschooler not wanting to go to bed.)) Chat likes this idea, but it might be too evil. Another chatter mentions the gear chest below the Skyblock, but Doc reiterates that it is against the spirit of the challenge. He wouldn’t have gotten wings from the ender chest either, he was mostly fooling around. He has the epiphany that if he can record Doccy whining, that could be very easily weaponized for Hermitcraft. Chat is excited about all this vengeance.

3:03:00 Doc decides it’s time to relax a little and play some guitar. Chat grooves along. He plays some Pearl Jam, then some Alice in Chains. The guitar needs some tuning. He promises one day he will tune the guitar before stream and there will be more music. He takes a minute to tune it a little, then plays a bit more. He plays Wonderwall. Chat is amused. He plays Rocking in the Free World, then realizes he should probably play some Minecraft. He chops more wood. Doc tells Chat he used to be pretty good and know a lot of songs, but if you want to stay good, you have to play regularly.

3:10:00 Doc has been streaming three hours now and is starting to get hungry. He and Chat talk about guitars and about Doc’s plan to create ETERNAL DARKNESS with automated block-placing systems covering the village, the SD and all the bases in cobble. And then there will be the whining as well! And this time he will not be the one cleaning up the prank the way he did with the Perimeter, so there! Oh, and he will blame it all on the Ore Snatcher. He is already claiming to be a baby, this will definitely fit. He thanks subs and donos, makes a slightly off-color joke about satisfying the single ladies, then jokes about forgetting he was streaming. Doc’s hingedness level is clearly dropping the longer he streams today.

3:16:00 Doc gets a brainstorm and looks up the tabs for All the Single Ladies. He tries to play it on the guitar by sight-reading the tab sheet but can’t remember how the song goes well enough. It’s not a very good tab, either. He gets distracted realizing he’s never looked at the lyrics for the verses and is trying to parse the meaning of “Up on him, he up on me” when leaf decay strikes and drops him out of the tree he’d been harvesting. Luckily he was still over his platform, but the near miss means music time is over. Skyblock is no place for distractions! Doc blames the single ladies in the chat and says that if he’d died because he was looking up the lyrics to All The Single Ladies, he never would’ve been able to explain it to anyone.

3:20:00 Chat spots an egg and is very excited about it. Doc collects it and puts it in the chest. He realizes that False has changed the birthday sign to read “Happy 777th Birthday” and changes it to say “Happy 7th Birthday” to go with the big baby theme. A chatter says that they usually watch Ren and it is hilarious how mean Doc’s chat is to him. Chat takes umbrage but doesn’t exactly deny it, while Doc is happy to be vindicated at last! He can’t say too much though, after all these gift subs and donos. He makes a joke about one chatter, Rosie, slipping into his DMs, then realizes he shouldn’t do that because people are still harrassing SubToMumbo on MCCI and making jokes about them being Doc’s alt account.

3:25:00 Ren joins the game and Doc is pleased to see him. Chat is too, declaring Husband Time. A tree grows into the block Doc is standing on and does damage; Doc makes a joke about the tree growing up his ass. Doc sends a message saying he is lonely and asks Ren to hang out. Ren is too busy, he is working on an episode. Doc responds “ok”. Chat is very sad. Doc tells Chat he is not going to guilt trip Ren, he is proud of Ren for really grinding his way through the season so far. Ren might have more episodes done than anyone at this point! Ren also had a really hard time last season and he’s come back strong. He talks Ren’s base up and all the time and effort put in there, then rotates his view enough to take one long, pointed look at Hypno’s house and Wels’ castle, both of which are looking a bit sparse at this point in the season with their builders not around much. But Doc’s not going to point any fingers, obviously! Chat is impressed that even on a Skyblock island with no shadows, Doc can still throw shade.

3:29:00 A chatter asks Doc about getting an ender chest somehow, Doc points out that an ender chest would basically negate the challenge of skyblock entirely. He has lot of things in his ender chest, including the wings that would let him just fly away. He talks with Chat a bit about the importance of pacing oneself, not burning out at the beginning of the server and falling away once the new server energy goes away. He mentions that he’d been considering making a counter diss track for Wels’ rap battle, but had suspected that Wels wouldn’t stick around and it wouldn’t go anywhere. This is the part of the season where it is important to have a long-term plan on what to do for the season, so that even though things arise unplanned, such as court cases and skyblock exiles, Hermits know what they want to do with their episodes. Someone mentions the momentum problems that can arise when Hermits start new side series mid-season and Doc says he doesn’t like that. If it were up to him, all Hermits would work on Hermitcraft only, but honestly side series are good for the YouTube algorithm and good for bringing in new fans. And he may groan a little when a new Life Series game starts and takes attention away from Hermitcraft, but on the other hand he watches it too! In Chat, several chatters confirm that they found Hermitcraft through the Life Series or other side content.

3:35:00 Doc confirms that he would like to join the Life Series and has reached out to Grian about it, but the interest in joining that series is extremely high and it’s hard to pick new people to bring in. Doc understands that, but he does think it would be right up his alley. Chat suggests maybe not upload on Fridays if he doesn’t want to be in direct competition with the Life Series. Third Life got cooked up right when Doccy was tiny and he missed out on the game coming together, and sometimes the timing is just not right. He talks with Chat about MCC as well, he is not sure MCC is for him because he doesn’t want to have to grind to get good first. Chat has mixed opinions about MCC. Most Chatters like MCC best when Hermits are there, which is not terribly surprising.

3:42:40 Doc finds it a little funny that there are people who actually work on honing their Minecraft movement skills to the competitive level, but he realizes he probably shouldn’t talk about who is getting obsessive about what finer points of Minecraft, given the givens. He’s about to talk more about that when he gets jumpscared by the Etho “What’s going on?” horn, followed by Cleo’s “Are you actually kidding me?” horn. He runs around looking for the source and finds Ren flying around under the base. He laughs and calls Ren a bastard. Ren still has to work on his episode but wanted to pop in and say hello. Chat is REALLY happy to see Ren! Ren has uploaded a test version of his project to check sound levels so everything is perfect, Doc laughs at the idea of being so meticulous. Back in Season 8 when they were basing together, the difference between Ren’s meticulous nature and Doc’s “get it done” attitude got pretty comical, but made for great content!

3:45:00 Ren compliments Doc on his base progress. Doc brags on his new moss block and chicken, but says he is now not sure that he needs a moss farm, because people only need wood when they’re are planning on building things. Ren doesn’t catch the ominous note to these words because he is admiring the creeper farm. He like’s Doc’s choice to use pink wood and compliments him on playing Disney Princess Skyblock. He is both impressed and terrified by the cobble farm his gift of sand helped create and decides that the best place to stand is far away from the TNT duper. Doc assures Ren that he will be spared when the big skydome comes down. Ren is also impressed by the idea for the whining torture and suggests that maybe it can morph over time into promises of revenge, five stages of grief style. The server lags a bit and Doc blames Xisuma again. Ren agrees, but shoulders a bit of the blame because he has been part of the reason that so much copper is required this week. He has made something like 500 copper trapdoors to make a giant crane machine for Skulk. Doc reminds Chat to go watch Ren’s new video the moment it comes out. He promises to check and make sure they do it. Ren thanks Doc, then says he needs to go listen to his draft episode on YouTube to check the audio levels. Doc tells him that he is literally the only person in the world who does that. They jokingly scoff together about how quality is worthless on YouTube and in life, the way to get ahead is by scamming and whining!

3:50:00 Ren ruminates how the Disney Sky Island looks so friendly and fluffy when one looks at it, but actually talking to the builder is like talking to Satan himself! Doc tries to guilt Ren into giving him some more stuff, but Ren is pretty intent on following some unspecified rules of Doc Skyblock that include mostly not outright giving him things. Doc says Pearl gave him wither roses and Ren is impressed, pointing out they can be used for several mob farms. Doc is not super interested in mob farms, he just wants to destroy things. Ren asks if Wels is going to be the first target, being so close, but Doc says it will be Cub. There will be flying machines involved, given the distance to Cub’s base. Cleo is second, and after that, who knows? Doc contemplates how Ren used to say “bastards” a lot while playing, and now he is very PG while Doc says “bastard” all the time. Ren laughs and admits he almost didn’t get added to Hermitcraft because he said “bastard” and “ass” too much. He confides that his first regular sign-off for videos was something like “If you don’t subscribe, I’m gonna shove this pick up your ass.” Chat is scandalized. Doc is laughing. He and Ren talk about swearing on camera and YouTube comments, and how commenters somehow get weirdly mad if someone’s style doesn’t stay the same for a whole decade. Doc claims that one day he and Ren will go to South Africa together for a real brai (barbecue). They will livestream it, and at the end they will tell everyone the meaning of life.

3:56:00 Doc and Ren talk a little bit about traveling in Africa, how it is best if you know someone because going as a tourist is a very different experience. You can stay in a hotel and go on safari, but that’s not really Africa. They have another conversation about the single ladies, but Ren refuses to be distracted by talk of single ladies. He has an episode to make! Doc tells Chat that they are not allowed to be Ren’s single ladies right now, this is his stream! He tells Ren to go away and stop distracting Chat. Ren laughs and flies away. Doc scolds Chat for their lack of fidelity, then goes on to decide it would be fun to go with Ren on a date, he’d probably be awkward in that shy good-guy way. Chat is not sure what’s going on, but they are here for it. Doc clarifies that he would like to be a fly on the wall watching Ren on a date with someone else.

4:01:00 A chatter makes a large sub drop, Doc thanks subs and donos. He realizes that his lava pool is full and decides not to make a second level. He flirts with the Single Ladies after reiterating the “only 30+” rule and talks about how he doesn’t believe in marriage because his parents’ marriage was very bad. He doesn’t feel the need for that kind of declaration and the sort of party where everyone is judging it compared to other peoples’ parties. He and Chat talk more about relationships and families. If Karin ever gets sick of him, he supposes he will have to go live in the basement because he could never imagine leaving his family for any reason, marriage or no.

4:09:00 A chatter talks about having pain from being abandoned by their father. Doc commiserates, the same thing happened to him and even before his dad left, his love was very performance-based and conditional. He tells the chatter to try not to worry, that sort of pain does not have to pass through generations. He is a much better father than his father was, because he is consciously trying to be. He talks with Chat about family backgrounds and the things that influence kids growing up. If it hadn’t been for Doc’s grandparents taking him in hand and modeling good behaviors, he probably would’ve ended up a criminal. He tells a story about a scary man in his apartment building growing up, and the first time he punched somebody. The place where he spent his youth was pretty rough, and it got worse after the Berlin Wall came down. Doc has some wild childhood stories that are hard to recap but worth a listen.

4:23:00 Doc moved out on his own when he was 16 to get out of his bad neighborhood, from the money he was starting to earn from basketball. It was a very small apartment but still a lot of freedom for a very young guy. It was also a lot cheaper than apartments are these days. Getting out of his bad neighborhood was good for him and he was lucky to be tall and strong, which helped him get by easier. Doc pulls out to studio view to start winding down his stream. He still visits some of his old friends from his youth and talks with them about the old days. Doc is mad about the European Football Finals but he is not going to talk about the absolute crime of Germany’s quarterfinals elimination. It’s about time to wind up this very long stream. Doc thanks all the subs and donos for being so generous for this birthday stream. He may stream midweek this week, Skyblock is very streamable! He reminds Chat to watch Ren’s new video, raids into Falsesymmetry and ends his stream.

[carajilloplz]

i. cowboy like me ₊˚⊹⋆ billy the kid

warnings: none really lol, just 1870s bs and low-key flirting

The lace fan in your hand and the spring breeze did little to soothe the flush caused by the early afternoon sunshine, making a light blush crawl up to your cheeks and small beads of sweat pool at the nape of your neck. It was pleasant to be out on the terrace of your friend’s townhouse, basking in the pleasure of not having to fuss over much before the season starts, but the imminent peril of your debut kept your mind elsewhere from the untouched tea and pastries laid out before you.

“Ada, do you suppose your brother’s guest will be handsome?” mused Josie, slumped over her chair turning to look at Ada

“Josie! Hush, don’t say things like that, I’d never be interested in someone who’s my brother’s age.”

“I’m just saying that if he’s going to be staying in your house, eating your food, and disturbing your peace he might as well be nice-looking”

“Perhaps Josie has a point, Ada.” you reasoned “Do you really know who this man is?”

“I barely just learned this morning that my brother’s coming back to New York, give me a break girls.”

“What I do know is that his friend’s a cowboy at his father’s ranch in colorado and that he’s looking for a change of scenery for a while, so my brother’s bringing him up here.”

A cowboy? You’d seen what they’re like on your trips to Texas— rough, rugged, almost uncouth, but there was something that intrigued you about a man that could ride in the ranges all day and never get tired of the landscape’s expanse. You saw a bit of yourself in that. A cowboy’s the furthest you’d expect to have in new york, especially attending the events of the social season.

“Just cross your fingers it doesn’t turn into a shitshow, Ada”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

The rattle of the carriage’s wheels on the cobblestone streets did nothing to help the unease in Billy’s stomach as they headed to Ash’s house in a side of New York drastically unlike the one he used to be familiar with. Is this really a good idea?

"Billy, while the people here can be greay gossips, they probably won’t think too deeply. As long as you keep a low profile and not cause any trouble, you should be fine. In due time you can return south," reassured Ash

“I couldn’t be more grateful Ash, really. It’s just going to be real hard to lie about everything.”

The carriage came to a sudden stop infront of a tall brownstone that matched all the ones next to it, creating a cookie-cutter row of houses that ran down the street until the eye could see. Finely dressed people walked down the sidewalks, conversing or walking their dogs, seeing and being seen under the spring sun. Billy stepped out of the carriage with Ash, giving a grateful nod to the driver and going up the steps behind his host. The door was opened by a maid inside, who greeted Ash with a smile, and as he and Billy walked in there was a rumble heard on the stairs as three young girls stormed down and an older woman walked behind them.

“Ash!” exclaimed one of the girls, her face lighting up as she rushed to greet him, followed by the older woman billy assumed was his mother. The other two girls stayed on the staircase, offering ash a polite greeting and peering curiously at Billy. You particularly, wearing a soft cornflower blue dress with your hair pinned up caught his eye, but he knew it was rude to stare so he quickly bright his gaze back to his host.

“Everyone, this is my friend William Henry from Colorado. Billy this is my mother Helena, my sister Ada and her friends”

“Pleasure to meet you ladies, and thank you Mrs. Upson for allowin’ me to stay in your house for some time. I hope it’s not too much of a bother.” As he said this, Billy finally had the chance to take a look at you, his stomach flipping but now for a good reason. His gaze lingered momentarily, trying to piece together the intrigue you caused -- you were beautiful, undoubtedly so but there was lightness and grace about you that captivated him. You smiled softly and nodded as a greeting, and he couldn’t help but notice the lightly flustered blush of your cheeks or the small hairs fallen from your updo that framed your face and neck.

Mrs. Upson snapped him back to reality. “It is absolutely no trouble, Mr. Henry. Hattie will see to your belongings, but for now you can join the girls and I for tea if you’d like.”

Everybody moved to the terrace once more, Ash being whisked away by Ada to catch up, leaving Billy to sit with Mrs Upson, Josephine, and you.

When Billy had stepped through the front door of the Upson’s house, your breath left you for a moment. He was very much a cowboy, slightly rugged and stoic but a gentle demeanor about the way he carried himself that brought your breath back to your lungs. He towered over you just the right amount and his shoulders, which he carried with a humble confidence, were (weirdly) attractively wide. Josie was also right about something— Ash’s guest was absolutely handsome.

“So your father is a rancher, Billy?” Asks Josephine, sitting next to you and nudging you slightly, making you pay attention to the cowboy sitting before you. Josie’s bluntness made you blush, elbowing her and shooting her a warning glance. “I apologize, if you don’t mind us calling you Billy.”

“I don’t mind that at all, I quite prefer it actually.” He swallowed before continuing, a strain in his face that piqued your curiosity. “And yes, my father owns a few ranches along the Arkansas river.”

“How wonderful, must be a beautiful sight.” you mention absentmindedly, picturing the mountains and the rolling hills that you imagine as his home. A small smile breaking his face snaps you back into the moment and it makes your stomach warm and cracks a smile out of you too.

“It is, really. Y’all should visit sometime, it’s beautiful around this time of year.”

“That’s quite a nice idea, William we would love to see your father’s ranches.” remarked Mrs. Upson, “I know you must be tired from your travels, but will you be joining us at the soiree tonight?”

“I’d love to Mrs Upson, what’s the occasion?”

“The girl’s debut this season! It’s just something small with some family friends before the ball tomorrow.”

Billy was visibly confused, “Debut?”

“It’s a ball where the girls get paraded around in white dresses like cattle so they can get married off” interjects Ash, joining them. “Frankly it’s degrading, but it’s tradition.”

Your stomach churned. Degrading is the perfect word to describe it. You were not looking forward to the next few months of insipid suitors and the prospect of a proposal. It’s not like you were completely opposed to a proposal, but this culling process was not the way you wanted to approach it. Yet, as Ash said, it’s tradition.

“Sounds…grueling” Billy admits.

“Absolutely. The balls are quite fun though.” says Josie.

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Later that night, the Upson household was bustling with people laughing, drinks pouring, and conversation buzzing with excitement about the upcoming season. Poor billy looked like a fish out of water, dressed in one of Ash’s suits that he was visibly unnaccustomed to using. You looked at the interactions from afar, Billy charming but clearly feeling uncomfortable, as you could see with the tension in his sharp jaw. Josie, a little bit tipsy, comes up to you and leans in with a giggle.

“Have you noticed he’s been staring at you all night?” she whispers.

A blush creeps onto your cheeks and you try to hold back a smile “And what would make you say such a wild thing, josie? Is it the champagne?”

Josie placed her hand on her chest in fake offense “Gah! You offend me darling”

“What’d she do now, Jo?” Ada, also a few drinks in accuses cheekily.

“She doesn’t believe that she is the most stunning girl in the room and that Mr Cowboy here has been stealing a few glances.”

“Oh Josie is right, you’ve been the only one he’s looked at.”

You noticed that he had excused himself from the conversation across the room and headed to the drinks table where the three of you were located, a soft smile greeting you and making your heart flutter. You realized then and there that it was impossible to get tired of his deep, kind blue eyes.

“How’s the night treating you, Billy?” asks Josie. Billy lets out a small laugh and glances at you and Ada.

“She needs to start findin’ her way home don’t she?”

Josie scowls, and you and Ada are laughing at your friend’s cheeky behavior “Gosh, you’re no fun! I’m just getting started, Billy boy.”

“Oh she is, Billy. She always has a few too many glasses of champagne but she’s great fun” you say with a smile. You both meet eyes for a moment and you drop it after a second, a bashful blush painting your cheeks.

“All three of y’all seem like great fun, champagne or not. I’m lookin’ forward to my stay here.” he admits. Billy gives you a smile too, picking the eye contact back up and going to say something before Ada interrupts.

“We should cheers to that then!” she says, serving each one a glass of champagne and handing it to them. “To Billy’s fruitful stay in New York!”

You all clink your glasses together and you down yours mostly in a few sips.

“Josie, you should go play some music!” squeals Ada, grabbing Josie, who is also downing her glass and pulls her towards the piano at the other side of the room.

You and billy share a laugh at the antics of your friends, and you go to serve some more champagne for the two of you. The bubbly buzz of the champagne was getting to your head a little and you faltered a few drops onto your dress.

As you served some into Billy’s glass, you couldn’t stop yourself from commenting—“Your accent slips out a little more when you’re drinkin’ Billy.” you noticed. It was cute though, your time in Texas had made you fond of a southern drawl.

“Does it really? You’ve kinda got one too.” he points out with a laugh, looking down at you through half-lidded eyes.

“Do I? It’s probably the champagne, I apologize.” you laugh, a light smile covered by a laced hand spreads on your face and you look up at him. “I haven’t been down south in forever, I thought it’d gone away”

“You’ve been?” he asks furrowing his brow in question and developing a curious smile. He quickly dismissed the thought of how much he loved the way your eyes looked from below him. “Didn’t take you for a southern girl.”

You let out a shy laugh and looked down, “I am, grew up in Texas and moved here with my mother and sister when I was eleven. My father’s still down there. He’s got an oil field in the Panhandle and takes care of a few ranches in the prairie near Dallas.”

Billy nodded, slightly surprised but still, extremely curious and amused by your personal history. He’d wondered whether he’d seen the same prairies as you had growing up, fallen in love with the same nature.

“Well darlin’ I’m quite surprised,” his stomach churned at his lie— “My father’s ranches run along Colorado but I’ve been to Texas quite a few times and I can’t wait to go back.”

“Me neither,” you confess, staring wistfully at your cup. “My father comes up every once in a while but I haven’t been since I was fifteen.”

“I’d happily take you in as a guest if it’ll take that downhearted look off your face.” he said softly, taking your chin in his hand and bringing you to look at him with the most tender gesture, giving you the most comforting smile. All of this made your heart flip and your chest tighten the lightest bit in fear. You’d had one or two callers before that had caught your heart, but whatever Billy did to you was different. Speaking to him felt familiar and the slightly calloused feel of his hand on you was a commiserative connection back to the wild girl you had once been. Being in New York tamed you, but he had a look that took you right back home.

You couldn’t. With a polite smile, you leaned out of his touch after a few moments and tried to will the blush off your cheeks.

“I’d much like that Mr. Henry, I appreciate the invitation.” He nonned curtly in response, a little confused at your sudden distance. “I should catch up with my friends. Enjoy your evening.”

You walked away, your heart almost beating out of your ribcage as you made a beeline to your friends. Looking around discreetly to see if anyone had noticed your interaction with billy, you caught the curious eye of your sister and her fiance, giving them a dismissive stare and catching up to josie and ada, who were sitting at the piano.

The rest of the night you stuck to your friends, the drinks pouring and the conversation flowing through the bustle of people in the salon. As you stepped through the balcony doors to take a breath, remembering the feeling of billy’s touch and the way he made you feel, your sister followed you through. It was pathetic how he had affected you so much with a single touch.

Your sister, accompanied by her fiance Theo, stared at you teasingly.

“And what was that with Ash's friend?” She asks, “I know you have a thing for cowboys.”

With a rush of blood to your face once more, you dismissed her with a gesture of your hand.

“Stop it Clemmie, you know that stupid crush was forever ago, and there is nothing going on with Mr. Henry.”

“He looks awfully familiar, somehow.” Theo comments. “Feels like I’ve seen him before”

“Theo, my love, you know I adore you but just because we went back home last summer doesn’t mean you know everyone in the South.” Your sister says, giving her fiance a teasing tap on his cheek. “Well, from what i’ve heard through the grapevine he is truly an uncut gem so I say go for it”

You blush, impossibly even more, at her comment. “Shut it Clemmie, my debut is tomorrow and I cannot have you putting stupid things in my head.”

“But he’s quite darling isn’t he?”

Hesitating, you sighed, staring wistfully at the man inside, speaking with Ash and somehow stirring your heart from afar, “I won’t deny that.”

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a/n: HEY GUYS WELCOME so happy to be putting this out omg i've been working on this for forever i hope you enjoy :) part 2 is in the works but in the meantime if you have any ideas for any tom characters lmk jijiji i am very much taking requests (and look at my masterlist so you can see who else i write for !!)

[zapreportsblog]

Hey really enjoy your writing. I was hoping if you could accept my request. Fem reader is human mate to the volturi kings . She met them while her friends and her where Ghost hunting it was night time and they friend to get in she’s ended up meeting them that way lmao she was 😳

Spooked but intrigued needles to says her life changed that day. She has had a blast getting to know the 3 kings and befriended the guard. She’s was always insecure and sometimes it’s hard to believe she gets to be with amazing people like they have so much knowledge and even been through a lot in life. One day she over heard a new guard talking shit about her. “Why is a human so important to the kings. The probably will just use her and toss her out. She’s so useless and doesn’t do anything. She heard it and got so depressed she locked herself in her room. It got so bad she sorta stoooed eating because she thinks he sorta is right compared to the kings she really does not grasp why they are with her she understands she’s their mate but wishes she could do more.

Cue the kings and the guard being worried /pissed because they can’t see her and got even more worried because she’s not eating and crying all the time. The twins are also mad they investigated and slowly found out how she heard some new guard talking shit. The vampire will now understand the phrases fuck around and find out.

Needless to says the guard is pissed with this vampire and the kings will take care of him soon 😡

But first their b loved need to understand how her work and her perspective as a human is so precious to them and to the her she’s that breath of fresh air that they need she makes their day’s joyful and they can’t see life without her. Marcus s all of them coax and explain how much she means to them. They get very vulnerable with her 🥹🥺

You cans add romance and fluff if you feel comfortable.

Now after reassuring her they take her so she can see them end this fool 😡😈

A trial is done to this stupid guard that dared to do this to their mate it’s not going to be a pretty execution 😈

👁️👄👁️ this is so long but at the same time 👁️🫦👁️ I like it, therefore enjoy 👁️👅👁️

↱ protecting what’s theirs ↰

➘ summary : a stupid ghost hunting trip leads to an unexpected meeting

➘ aro x reader x caius x marcus, twilight x reader, volturi x reader

The full moon cast an eerie glow over the ancient streets of Volterra as (Y/N) and her friends ventured into the heart of the city. Armed with flashlights and a sense of adventure, they were on a ghost hunting expedition like no other. Volterra's rich history and legends of the supernatural had drawn them here, but little did they know, they were about to stumble upon a world beyond their wildest imagination.

The cobblestone streets echoed with the hushed laughter of the group as they meandered through the shadowy alleyways. The atmosphere was charged with a mix of excitement and nervous anticipation. The tall, imposing buildings seemed to watch their every move, and (Y/N)'s heart raced as her flashlight flickered, casting eerie shadows against the ancient stone walls.

As they turned a corner, the distant sound of footsteps caught their attention. A chill ran down (Y/N)'s spine, and her grip on the flashlight tightened. The footsteps grew closer, accompanied by an indistinct murmur that sent shivers down her spine.

"Did you guys hear that?" (Y/N) whispered, her voice barely audible above the hushed whispers of her friends. They nodded, their expressions a mixture of excitement and trepidation.

Their flashlights converged on the source of the sound, revealing three figures emerging from the darkness. Dressed in attire that seemed both elegant and out of place, the strangers exuded an air of authority that demanded attention. Their eyes glowed with an otherworldly intensity, capturing (Y/N)'s gaze and holding it in a vice-like grip.

"Who are you?" one of (Y/N)'s friends stammered, her voice quivering.

"We are the Volturi," the tallest of the strangers replied, his voice smooth and commanding. "And you are trespassing in our domain."

A mixture of fear and fascination washed over (Y/N) as she studied the enigmatic trio. The Volturi - the name resonated within her like a haunting melody, awakening something deep within her soul. Unbidden, her eyes met the piercing gaze of the Volturi king, his crimson irises holding a promise of secrets and mysteries beyond her imagination.

Before anyone could react, the situation took an unexpected turn. A low growl reverberated through the air, followed by the emergence of another figure from the shadows. This newcomer was different from the Volturi, his presence radiating an aura of danger and wildness. His eyes locked onto (Y/N), a mix of curiosity and something more primal flickering in their depths.

"Demetri, Felix, we have guests," the newcomer's voice was a velvet whisper, sending a shiver down (Y/N)'s spine.

The tension in the air was palpable as (Y/N) and her friends found themselves caught in a web of intrigue and danger. The meeting of humans and supernatural beings was fated that night, setting in motion a series of events that would forever alter their lives.

The atmosphere grew electric, the very air around (Y/N) seemed to thrum with a hidden power. She tore her gaze away from the newcomer and back to the enigmatic Volturi kings, who exuded an unsettling mix of authority and intrigue. Questions tumbled in her mind, but the words caught in her throat.

"Forgive our intrusion," one of (Y/N)'s friends managed to stammer, her voice trembling. "We didn't mean any harm."

The tension eased slightly as the Volturi king who had spoken regarded them with an inscrutable expression. "Curiosity often leads mortals to unforeseen encounters," he mused, his tone measured.

"But now that you've seen us, you pose a risk," the newcomer interjected, his voice like velvet edged with steel. "A risk that requires management."

(Y/N)'s heart raced as the implications of his words sank in. What did he mean by "management"? The situation felt precarious, like a fragile balance hanging by a thread.

"We promise, we won't tell anyone about what we've seen," another of (Y/N)'s friends hurriedly assured, her voice quivering.

The Volturi kings exchanged a look that conveyed volumes without a word spoken. It was as if they communicated through an unspoken language that (Y/N) couldn't comprehend. After a tense pause, the leader of the Volturi spoke again, his gaze resting on (Y/N) once more.

"Your words are noted. However, secrecy is not the only matter at hand. There is something... unique about your presence here."

The intensity of the Volturi king's gaze sent shivers down (Y/N)'s spine. She felt like he was peering into her very soul, unraveling the thoughts and emotions she kept hidden even from herself.

"What do you mean?" she managed to whisper, her voice barely audible.

A ghost of a smile touched the corners of his lips, but it did little to ease the unease coiling within her. "Some things are better shown than explained," he said cryptically.

Before anyone could react, a swift movement caught their attention. The newcomer, who had been lurking at the edges of their conversation, now stood in front of (Y/N). His intense gaze bore into her, a mixture of curiosity and something far more primal.

"Would you allow me to show you?" he murmured, his voice like a seductive whisper.

(Y/N)'s heart raced as she met his gaze, her mind torn between fear and a strange attraction she couldn't explain. Her friends exchanged nervous glances, their unspoken concern palpable.

"Show me what?" she asked, her voice wavering slightly.

The newcomer's lips curved into a predatory smile, and a flicker of something unreadable danced in his eyes. "The truth about who we are, and who you are becoming."

As the moon cast an ethereal glow over the ancient streets of Volterra, (Y/N) stood at a crossroads between the mundane world she had known and the enigmatic realm that had suddenly opened before her. Unforeseen encounters had set her on a path of discovery, a journey that would challenge her perceptions and forever intertwine her fate with that of the Volturi kings.

In the days that followed that fateful encounter, (Y/N)'s life took an unexpected turn. Intrigue and curiosity won out over fear, and she found herself agreeing to the newcomer's proposal. What could he possibly show her? It was a question that echoed in her thoughts, driving her to embrace this newfound journey.

As days turned into weeks, (Y/N) discovered a world she had never dreamed of. The Volturi kings, Aro, Caius, and Marcus, each held a presence that was simultaneously awe-inspiring and intimidating. Yet, to her surprise, they welcomed her into their midst with a warmth and hospitality that shattered her preconceived notions.

There was something about their timeless wisdom and the stories they shared that drew her in. Aro's insatiable curiosity, Caius's unwavering determination, and Marcus's melancholic wisdom—each king offered a unique perspective that broadened her horizons.

But it wasn't just the kings who left a lasting impression. The main guards, Felix, Demetri, Jane, and Alec, became her friends. They possessed a camaraderie that was forged through centuries of loyalty and trials. Their stories, filled with both triumphs and heartaches, served as a reminder that even the seemingly immortal beings had faced their share of challenges.

Despite their extraordinary existence, (Y/N) found that they too were grappling with their own vulnerabilities. Jane's fierce determination masked a deeper longing for acceptance, while Alec's quiet demeanor concealed a well of emotions. Demetri's playful banter belied a complex history, and Felix's imposing presence shielded a heart of gold.

As (Y/N) spent time with them, she began to realize that they weren't just powerful beings, but individuals with their own struggles and insecurities. It was a humbling revelation that helped her see herself in a new light. Her initial insecurities, the nagging doubts that she didn't belong, began to fade.

With each passing day, (Y/N) embraced the friendships she had forged. They didn't judge her for her mortal limitations; instead, they celebrated her unique perspective and her willingness to learn. She found herself laughing more, exploring the hidden corners of Volterra with her new companions, and immersing herself in their world.

And through it all, the enigmatic newcomer who had introduced her to this world kept his promise. He showed her the secrets of their existence, revealing the intricate web of alliances, rivalries, and histories that shaped the Volturi's power. (Y/N) listened with rapt attention, her thirst for knowledge deepening as she delved into the labyrinthine tales.

As the weeks turned into months, (Y/N) realized that her life had irrevocably changed. She had transformed from a mere mortal into someone who walked among beings of unparalleled power. But even more importantly, she had found a sense of belonging, a place where her presence was valued and her voice was heard.

The grand halls of the Volturi castle echoed with footsteps, laughter, and murmured conversations. (Y/N) had grown accustomed to the rhythms of this supernatural world, finding comfort in her friendships with the kings and their guards. But one day, as she wandered near a corridor, her steps slowed involuntarily as she overheard a conversation that shattered her newfound sense of belonging.

The voices, though hushed, reached her ears with a clarity that cut like a blade. Her heart hammered in her chest as she recognized the voice of a new guard, someone she hadn't interacted with much. The words he uttered were like poison, seeping into her thoughts.

"Why is a human so important to the kings? They'll probably just use her and toss her out. She's so useless and doesn't do anything."

Those words echoed in her mind, a chorus of doubt that she couldn't escape. As if struck by an unseen force, she retreated from the corridor and fled to her room, her steps heavy with a sadness she couldn't put into words.

Locked away from the world outside, (Y/N) sank onto her bed, her thoughts a tumultuous storm. The echoes of the guard's words reverberated in her mind, amplifying the insecurities she had once managed to overcome. She had believed that she belonged here, that her friendships and connections were genuine. But now, the shadow of doubt loomed over her.

Tears welled in her eyes as she battled the emotions that threatened to engulf her. She had thought she was strong enough to face the skepticism of the outside world, but the venomous words had struck a chord deep within her heart. The weight of her perceived uselessness bore down on her, suffocating her spirit.

Hours passed like a blur as (Y/N) grappled with her emotions in the solitude of her room. The once-familiar space now felt like a prison of her own making. The world outside seemed unreachable, the bonds she had formed now tainted by the poison of doubt.

But just as darkness threatened to consume her completely, a soft knock on her door drew her attention. Tentative at first, then growing more insistent. With a heavy sigh, (Y/N) forced herself to rise from the bed and open the door, revealing the concerned faces of Demetri and Felix.

"(Y/N), are you alright?" Demetri's voice was gentle, his eyes reflecting a genuine worry.

Her voice caught in her throat, and she turned away, unable to meet their gazes. It felt like they could see right through her, past the façade she had constructed.

"(Y/N), you heard that, didn't you?" Felix's voice was quiet, tinged with a sadness she hadn't expected.

Unable to speak, (Y/N) nodded, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. She felt vulnerable, exposed, as if her deepest fears were laid bare for them to see.

Felix stepped forward, his large frame engulfing her in a comforting embrace. "You're not useless, (Y/N). You've brought light into this place, and your friendships are genuine. We've seen it, felt it."

Demetri joined them, his hand resting gently on her shoulder. "We understand that words can hurt, but don't let them define you. You're part of this world because you've earned your place."

Tears spilled down (Y/N)'s cheeks as their words sank in. She realized that she hadn't been alone in her struggle. The friends she had made here saw her worth, even when she couldn't see it herself.

Despite the support of Demetri and Felix, (Y/N)'s mind remained ensnared by the guard's hurtful words. Their reassurances were like a lifeline, but her doubts had taken root, growing stronger with each passing day. The castle that had once felt like a sanctuary now seemed like a place where she didn't belong.

The laughter of the kings and the guards, once a symphony that brought her joy, now felt like a reminder of her perceived inadequacy. She watched them with a heavy heart, wondering why they would choose to be with her, a mere human. In her eyes, they were luminous beings, powerful and wise, while she was fragile and ordinary.

As the days turned into weeks, (Y/N)'s insecurity morphed into something more insidious. She began to withdraw, spending more time in her room, lost in a sea of introspection. The once vibrant glow that surrounded her seemed to dim, and even her interactions with Demetri and Felix felt strained.

The guard's words had taken root deep within her, echoing through her thoughts even as she tried to push them away. Food lost its appeal, and her appetite waned as she contemplated her own worth. She wanted to do more, to contribute something meaningful, but the weight of her perceived uselessness bore down on her, sapping her energy.

Demetri and Felix's concern deepened as they watched her retreat further into herself. They tried to offer solace, to remind her of her place among them, but their words fell on deaf ears. Every reassurance seemed like an empty echo against the overpowering tide of self-doubt.

In the heart of the Volturi castle, a sense of unease hung in the air as Demetri and Felix stood before the three kings. The normally imposing presence of Aro, Caius, and Marcus seemed muted in the face of their guards' obvious distress.

"Demetri, Felix, you both seem troubled. What weighs on your minds?" Aro's voice was laced with a curiosity that never failed to unnerve.

Felix exchanged a look with Demetri, a silent understanding passing between them. With a deep breath, Demetri began to recount the events of the past few weeks—the encounter with the new guard's hurtful words, (Y/N)'s growing isolation, and her plummeting emotional state.

Caius's expression darkened as he listened, his fingers tapping rhythmically against his armrest. "And you say she's confined herself to her room? She's not eating?"

Felix nodded, his voice grim. "Yes, she's been locking herself away, hardly eating, and she seems to be in constant emotional distress. We've tried to reach out to her, but our words don't seem to reach her."

Aro leaned forward, his fingers pressed together in thought. "This is troubling indeed. We were aware of her insecurities, but we had hoped that she would find solace within our company."

Marcus, who had been silent throughout the conversation, finally spoke in his characteristic soft tones. "It appears that the shadow of doubt has taken a firm hold on her. She questions her place among us, her worthiness."

A heavy silence settled in the room as the weight of the situation hung over them. Aro's eyes glinted with a mixture of concern and determination. "We must not let this darkness consume her. We have seen her strength and resilience. It is our duty to remind her of the light she brings into our lives."

Caius's gaze was steely as he spoke. "Felix, Demetri, I want you both to find a way to reach her. Encourage her to open up, to share her thoughts. We cannot allow her to remain trapped in this cycle of despair."

As the guards nodded in agreement, Marcus offered a quiet suggestion. "Perhaps, the presence of the kings themselves might help break through her isolation."

Aro smiled, his expression one of reassurance. "Yes, we shall pay her a visit. Together, we will show her that she is not alone, that her place among us is secure."

With renewed determination, the three kings and their loyal guards set forth on a mission to bring light to (Y/N)'s darkness. The castle's grandeur and power faded in importance as their collective focus centered on the fragile human whose presence had stirred something profound within them.

As twilight settled over the Volturi castle, the air was charged with an unspoken tension. The kings had made their decision, and Alec and Jane, the twins known for their formidable powers, were chosen to investigate the events that had cast a shadow over their domain. The twins moved with an eerie grace, their gazes set with an intent that held an unspoken promise of retribution.

Their path led them to the new guard's quarters, and with a swift motion, Alec opened the door. Jane's crimson eyes bore into the guard, her gaze like a laser that could cut through steel. The guard looked up, caught off guard by their sudden presence.

"Mind if we have a word?" Alec's voice was deceptively calm, but there was a flicker of danger in his eyes.

The guard shifted uncomfortably, his bravado faltering as he sensed the aura of the twins. "What do you want?"

Jane's lips curved into a cold smile, her power radiating from her as she stepped closer. "We heard about your little chat the other night. About (Y/N). Care to elaborate?"

The guard's eyes widened in realization, but he tried to maintain his composure. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Alec's patience wore thin, and his tone hardened. "Don't play games with us. We know exactly what you said. We know about the doubt you sowed in (Y/N)'s mind."

The guard's defiance wavered, and fear crept into his eyes. He stammered, "I... I didn't mean anything by it. I was just venting."

Jane's voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "Your words have consequences. You underestimated her strength, and now she's suffering because of it."

A tense silence hung in the air as the twins' words hung heavy between them. The guard's mask of arrogance had crumbled, revealing a hint of vulnerability that Alec and Jane took note of.

"We suggest you tread carefully from now on," Alec's voice was a chilling warning. "Because you've just invoked the wrath of the Volturi kings, and they don't take kindly to those who threaten their own."

With that, the twins turned and left the room, leaving the guard to his thoughts. As the door closed behind them, a sense of unease settled over the castle.

Meanwhile, within the chambers of the kings, the atmosphere was fraught with a simmering anger. Alec and Jane's report had ignited a fire within them, and the knowledge of (Y/N)'s suffering had only fueled their determination.

Demetri's eyes darkened with rage as he clenched his fists. "The audacity of that guard to undermine (Y/N)'s place among us. She deserves more respect than that."

Felix's jaw tensed, his expression mirroring the anger of his comrades. "It's clear we need to set an example. We can't allow this kind of behavior to go unpunished."

Aro's lips curved into a dangerous smile, his gaze glinting with a mixture of power and retribution. "It's time to show this guard what it means to cross the Volturi."

The kings and their loyal guards united in their determination. The guard had unwittingly invoked the fury of the most powerful beings in the vampire world. The phrases "fuck around and find out" took on new meaning as they hatched a plan to ensure that the guard understood the gravity of his actions.

In the shadows of the castle, a reckoning was brewing—a reminder that the Volturi did not tolerate threats to those they cherished. The guard's actions had set in motion a chain of events that would shape the fate of all involved.

As the days unfolded, (Y/N)'s sense of isolation began to wane. The support of Demetri and Felix, along with the kings' determination to mend the damage, had chipped away at the fortress of doubt she had built around herself. The light that had dimmed within her began to flicker once more, illuminating the path toward acceptance.

One evening, as the moon cast its silvery glow over the castle, (Y/N) found herself alone in her room. The atmosphere was charged with a mixture of anticipation and unease. The knock on her door signaled the arrival of unexpected visitors.

"(Y/N), may we come in?" Aro's voice was gentle, tinged with an underlying warmth.

Heart racing, (Y/N) opened the door, revealing the three kings standing before her. Their presence was awe-inspiring, yet this time, it didn't fill her with trepidation. Instead, a sense of belonging enveloped her, and she welcomed them with a mixture of gratitude and curiosity.

"Please, come in," she managed to say, her voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside her.

As they entered her room, the kings' expressions were a blend of concern and determination. Aro, the one most adept at voicing thoughts, took a step forward. "We want to apologize for any distress you've experienced due to the actions of one of our own."

Caius's gaze was piercing, yet there was a hint of understanding in his eyes. "We should have intervened sooner, defended your place among us."

Marcus's voice was soft, carrying the weight of his centuries of wisdom. "You are not just our mate, (Y/N), but a valued member of our family. Your presence has enriched our lives in ways words cannot convey."

Tears welled in (Y/N)'s eyes as their words sank in. They had come to her, not just to reassure her, but to affirm her worth in their lives. The fortress of doubt she had constructed crumbled, and she felt like she was standing on the precipice of a new understanding.

"I... I don't know what to say," she whispered, her voice catching.

Aro's smile was warm as he approached her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "You don't need to say anything. Just know that you are cherished, valued, and loved.”

Caius's voice was a whisper that held an unspoken promise. "And we want to make amends for any pain you've endured."

Marcus's gaze held a quiet intensity. "Which is why we've decided to have a trial for the guard who caused you harm."

(Y/N)'s eyes widened in surprise, a mix of emotions churning within her. "A trial?"

Aro nodded. "Yes, a trial. We want you to be there, to see the consequences of his actions, to understand that the Volturi do not tolerate threats to their family."

Caius's voice was firm. "You will witness his judgment."

Marcus's words held a sense of finality. "And you will know that you are not alone."

Tears streamed down (Y/N)'s cheeks as she met their gazes, her heart overflowing with gratitude and a newfound sense of belonging. In that moment, she understood that her place among them was not just by chance, but by choice.

As the moon bathed the room in its glow, the kings and their mate stood together, bound by a connection that transcended words. In the embrace of their love and support, (Y/N)'s journey of self-discovery continued, her spirit rekindled by the realization that she was an integral part of the world she had come to call home.

[midnightjewel]

Playing Minecraft With The Bakusquad

What it’s like to play Minecraft with the Bakusquad? (With avatars that I made myself included! :) )

A/N: Keep in mind that I’m not by any means a Minecraft expert at all! I just play for fun! (this is written with the idea of y’all playing survival)

Characters Included: Bakugo, Kirishima, Denki, Mina, and Sero

Bakugo

Kingexplosion04

Claims to be annoyed by playing with y’all and he lowkey is, he just wants to play the right way but ofc Denki and the others don’t want to do that

No bs when he first loads in, goes straight for getting wood for a house

Probably the only one who has a house by the first night and everyone is begging to stay there

Is grumbling the whole time that y’all are in his house that night and gets annoyed by Denki’s screaming into the mic

Almost never dies due to mobs unless there is multiple on him at once

One time there was a witch poisoning him at the same time that a skeleton was shooting him, he died and let’s just say y’all learned at least three new combinations of curse words

First one to find diamonds and everyone suddenly has everything and anything to trade with him, he never trades with you guys

Always stocked on food and plenty of weapons and does not really work well with others, prefers to do things on his own

Has a small house but it’s reliable and surrounded by a cobblestone wall for extra protection

Kirishima

Kirishark69

When he spawns in he knows the basic things like getting a crafting table and regular wood weapons

Second person done with their house and absolutely the first one with a pet dog

Builds a house out of cobblestone, and Burch wood and it’s awkwardly big for a survival house but it’s okay because he lets you stay with him until yours is done

Doesn’t like killing animals so he makes Bakugo or Denki do it at first but he gets warmed up to it the more he plays (but he still hates doing it)

Doesn’t get killed by mobs too much but the god forsaken skeletons are what always get him

Quickly builds a boat and fishing poles, his favorite thing to do is go catch fish and cook them to eat

Really good at working together with you to find resources

Is a contributor to Denki’s mic screaming sometimes but only when he’s being attacked

Denki

milfhunterdenki

Is so fun to play with because he’s absolutely hilarious when it comes to commentary

Probably the last one to finish his house and it’s just the right amount of space for a survival house

Just rooms with Sero until his house it built but they don’t mind

Doesn’t mind killing animals for food and often does it for you and Kirishima if you don’t like doing it

Ends up dying by testing an enderman by looking it in the eyes to be funny but it backfires and he can’t find his stuff when he respawns and ofc he screams a lot when this happens

If you two share a house he builds it while you go out to find decorations for it it’s a happy medium

First one to get leather armor bc he just kills the animals without a care in the world

Mina

PinkyAcid22

You two have the most gorgeous garden out of your house and you both have the privilege of calling everyone else’s houses boring and plain

Just ends up spending a lot of time digging to find caves and other materials such as diamonds or gold

Often yelling at Denki to shut up when he’s screaming but is doing it in a loving and joking way while laughing at him for dying to the endermen

Very fun and successful to play with, you two more often than not are the first ones to have diamond weapons

You all often get the message “PinkyAcid22 fell from a high place” which is how she normally dies

But you two have come up with a pact to collect each others stuff if the other one can’t find it so that way Denki and Sero don’t come steal it

Sero

Stonedsero420

Very chill when playing by himself but when Denki joins the party it gets chaotic pretty quick

Often bands with Kirishima to kill spiders and make fishing poles, they like to go out in boats and fish

Mostly looks for caves to find iron and diamonds but mostly just ends up with a bunch of holes around the squads base

Often dies by either falling into the holes or by drowning

Sero likes to find and explore shipwrecks so more often than not that’s how he ends up dying and if it’s not by drowning it’s definitely by a drowned

Normally the first one to be dripped out in diamond or gold armor

Probably the first one to find a village. He loves to loot them 

Very nice and gives you or makes you all the supplies you need, you might come back to your house and notice that there’s extra food or weapons in the chest… it was him



[corneliaavenue-ao3]

Summer's a Knife (a graveyard fic)

Graveyard fics are fics that I started and will never return to. Some are vague outlines, some are 4 sentences, some are 40 pages. But if they haunt me, I want them to haunt you too.

I am actually sad that this became a graveyard fic. But I truly cannot write it anymore. I wanted to release this first chapter in May of 2022... you see how well that went for me.

This is the first summer after the war from Ginny's POV. It is sad, it is romantic, it deals with grief. It was going to have flashbacks to Ginny's sixth year. It was going to have 4 big chapters and a small epilogue, each chapter focusing on a month. It was going to be one of my favorite things I wrote. Unfortanetly, I don't feel that way anymore.

May (chapter title: so long daisy May) is the only complete (non-edited) chapter. I knew what I wanted to write in June (the best and worst day of June), no clue what July (I've been down since July) would bring, and an idea for August (August slipped away)

I even had a playlist made

Chapter 1 is below the cut because it is 10k words, and I am giving it all to you. After that I will explain the rest of the vibes of the fic with some snippets I wrote. Sorry this is a LONG POST.

You say that we'll just screw it up in these trying times. We're not trying.

If I bleed, you’ll be the last to know

So Long Daisy May

Ginny’s bloodstained trainers echoed on the cobblestone path to her Great Aunt’s house. 

Once again, she was sent away for being too young. It wasn’t that long ago her parents were begging her to leave, to come back here for safety away from the final battle. Harry gave her a look that he didn’t want to see her either. She stayed of course. Fought in the war that was her fight as much as any other member of her family’s fight. Probably even more than most of them to be honest. 

Now the war was over, she was sent away again. Her mum didn’t want Ginny to stay at Hogwarts any longer than necessary, wary of any lurking danger from Death Eaters still roaming the grounds. The Burrow was not safe yet. Her dad, Bill, and Charlie left soon after Voldemort fell to ensure that their home would be safe for them to come home. Molly Weasley could not bear to convince George to leave his twin’s side in the room of all the deceased. Ron was off somewhere once again, probably conjoined to Harry and Hermione’s sides, unbearable for them to separate. 

That is how Ginny ends up with Percy of all brother’s returning to Great Aunt Muriel’s cold mansion that foggy, early morning.

Percy took a moment to knock on the front door. Ginny was planning to just walk inside, finding herself too tired to care about politeness and proper etiquette. 

The front door swung open 30 seconds later, a small house elf stood in the entryway. 

“Hey, Milsey. We were sent here to update Muriel and wait it out until the Burrow is safe,” Ginny said. 

Milsey bowed down, “Of course, anything for Prewett blood.”

Ginny didn’t even try to hide her eye roll. She could practically hear Hermione in her ear ranting about House Elf Welfare. 

“You don’t need to bow for us, Milsey,” Percy said. The first words he said aloud since their mum sent them here. Ginny did not know what to make of Percy anymore. He was the only brother who noticed anything was wrong with her during her first year at Hogwarts, and then he was the only one who checked up on her during her second year. Then he stopped caring about her. Ron told her that he got a letter from Percy telling him to stop being friends with Harry during his fifth year. She didn’t even get that. She could not understand how he could ignore his family for two years, and then come back begging for forgiveness. 

Fred had forgiven him. 

The thought of Fred made her entire insides clench. She wanted to vomit even though she had not had anything to eat in hours. 

Percy walked through the front door, Ginny closely following. 

“I am 109 years old, I just can’t have people showing up to my house unannounced at the crack of dawn. I have not even finished my tea yet this morning. Ginevra, your shoes are filthy. Take them off before you step on my Egyptian Rug, it is older than me and made from Sphynx fur,” Ginny’s aunt said in one breath. 

Muriel stood in the doorway, wrapped in her silk nightgown, arms folded, looking very unpleased to see her niece and nephew. “And where is Molly? I need to speak with her about her inability to raise polite children who give warning when they are going to visit their aunt!”

Ginny felt Percy’s hand wrap around her bicep, warning her to not make a retort. “We will make sure we give you notice next time we visit, Auntie Muriel. Thank you for letting us pop in this morning,” Percy said, using his trademark pompous voice. 

Muriel grunted, "I missed you Percy. You were always the most respectable Weasley. The Prewett blood runs strong in you."

Percy squeezed Ginny's arm again as a reminder to stay calm. Ginny turned and gave him a look that read something like I’m not a baby, get your annoying hands off of me. She wasn’t sure he quite got the message, but he removed his hand anyway. 

“We are only here until dad gives us the all clear to go back home. I will clear out all of our things we left in your spare rooms. Your favorite Weasley can update you on what has happened in the last 24 hours.” Ginny turned, not even sparing a glance at Percy to see his reaction to the news that he would be the one updating the family about Fred’s death. She crossed over the sphinx rug and stormed up the stairs, making sure to leave dirty footprints with each step.

Her room was first. Her trunk sat in the middle of the floor, a few articles of clothing scattered across the floor, but mostly still packed. She didn’t want to admit it to her mum at the time, but she kept her trunk packed in case they needed to make another quick escape. Now, it seems so frivolous caring about her things when her family is now forever torn apart. 

She quickly gathered her clothes strewn around and shoved them into her trunk. Levitating her trunk out the bedroom door and into the hallway.

The Ministry of Magic has more to worry about at the moment than some underage magic. 

Her parent’s room was next. Unlike Ginny, they did not have their trunks already packed from school, so they did not bring much from the Burrow. Ginny noticed this on her third day at her aunt’s house when her mum had not changed robes. Looking around the room, Ginny gathered what little items were there and put them into her own trunk.

The twin’s room was last. 

Ginny took a deep breath, bracing herself before pushing the door open slowly. Unsurprisingly, the room was a mess. Weasley Wizard Wheezes products piled in boxes on the floor and stacked on top of the bed. Mail in orders haphazardly organized in some system that only made sense to George. In the corner was Fred’s belongings frozen in time, never to be touched by him again. 

Flashbacks to the Great Hall flooded her brain. 

The smell of burning smoke clogged her nose. Seamus guided her back inside from the courtyard into the entryway of the Great Hall. Everything was too quiet. The emeralds littered on the floor cracked under her step, echoing against the stone walls. Suddenly Bill was there, pulling her from Seamus into his arms. He was crying. Why was he crying? He led her to the middle of the Great Hall where her family was huddled together. She counted the amount of heads, realizing two were missing. Slowly she approached her mum, who was kneeling on the ground in front of - NO.

Ginny stumbled, tripping over a box of sparklers on the ground. Her knees crashed into the footboard of the bed. A spare sparkler fizzled on the ground then ignited the entire box. An impressive explosion lit up the entire room, burning an imprint on the ceiling. Smoke filled her lungs. Spluttering, Ginny sunk to the ground, trying to catch her breath. 

Breathe in. Breathe out. In and out. Quicker. Faster.

In. 

Out. 

In.  

Out.

She felt herself start to hyperventilate. Her throat clogged up, unable to suck in deep enough breath to fill her lungs with oxygen. Tears blurred her vision. Pressure built in her head, she felt like she was submerged underwater. Unable to catch her breath. Drowning in her tears. 

Arms wrapped around her, pulling her close. For a second, she thought she was with Bill back in the Great Hall again before realizing that was not the brother holding her. 

“It’s alright, Ginny,” Percy soothed her.

Sobs wracked her body. She was exhausted. She could not keep them in any longer. Tucking her head into Percy’s chest, Ginny cried for her brother. She would never hear Fred tell another joke or have a late night race on the brooms. Her whole body ached. Several hours after his death, she finally felt the magnitude of the loss of Fred. 

Percy scratched her back, lightly tracing his fingertips down her spine, soothing her. Just like he had the time she broke down during their trip to Egypt. Slowly, oxygen inflated her lungs and her sobs lessened. Her breath slowed back to a stable rate. 

"Thanks, Perce," Ginny said when she finally trusted her own voice. 

"Don't mention it," he shrugged. "How about you get some rest, I will clean up the rest of this room."

Ginny was too tired to protest. Pulling herself to stand, Ginny nodded at Percy before slowly making her way back to her guest bedroom. She didn't even bother changing into fresh clothes before crawling into bed. Curled into a ball, she pulled the covers tightly around her. 

Her thoughts drifted to the same person she dreamt about for the entire year before the blackness wrapped around her, pulling her into a deep sleep. 

Hours too soon she was gently shook awake. Groggy eyes opened to her father smiling down at her. He aged so much within the last year. What red was once in his hair has turned primarily gray, fresh wrinkles were etched into his face. Ginny flung her arms around his neck.

“It’s safe to go home now.”

“Where’s Percy?” Ginny asked, hating how childish her voice sounded.

Her dad stroked her hair, “Already home. Let’s join him.”

Her dad grabbed the trunk on the ground and Ginny’s hand, side-apparating her to the Burrow. Teaching the sixth years how to apparate was not a priority this past year. Just another flaw in her education from the last 9 months. Her landing was not soft. Stumbling a few steps, Ginny stood at the top of the hill, just inside the ward line. 

“Everyone else is inside,” her dad said. 

Stumbling over herself, Ginny ran down the hill to her home. At first glance, the Burrow looked the same as the day she left it. But as she got closer to the front door, she noticed more things amiss. The treeline looked different like a few branches were knocked away. The grass was scorched yellow like someone burned it. Windows were cracked or blasted open with missing shards of glass. 

The front door groaned open with her push. Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat together, heads bent down, all snapped up at the sound of her entering the kitchen. 

“Ginny!” Hermione smiled, standing to embrace her in a hug.

Ginny squeezed her friend back. She didn’t get to appreciate seeing the three of them at Hogwarts. Hermione was much thinner than the last time she saw her. They all were. 

Ron embraced her next, giving her a pat on the back. She let go and looked over at the end of the table where Harry now stood. 

“Hi,” Harry said.

He looked good. Thin like the other two, but still handsome. He had somehow gotten taller over the last year, his hair long, messier than she had ever seen it. The dark rings around his eyes and his hollow cheeks emphasized his green eyes. Staring at her the same way he had a year ago, like he was staring into a brilliant light. 

Her heart skipped a beat. 

But in the next heartbeat, they were crossing the room to one another. His arms wrapped tightly around her shoulders, hers around his waist. Pulling each other close. She pressed her ear against his chest. 

He's alive, heart is beating, lungs are expanding with each breath.

Alive. Alive. Alive. Alive. 

The stairs creaked, alerting them to the presence of another Weasley member. Ginny pulled back from Harry just slightly, not completely breaking contact, as George entered the room. Slowly, he crossed the room, giving Ginny a quick pat on the head before leaving out the back door. Reality sunk back in as she watched the back of George’s head.

Fred's dead. 

Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. 

She felt her throat start to clog again. The unbearable feeling of loss started to overwhelm her. Slowly, she pulled away from Harry. She could not lose it again, especially not in front of the others who went through so much more than she had. Ron also lost Fred, and he wasn’t breaking down at the sight of George. 

And George, who would see Fred’s face whenever he looked in the mirror, did not deserve Ginny breaking down by looking at him. It made her feel like an awful person for almost losing it. No one needed the stress of taking care of her while they too were struggling. 

“He hasn’t said anything,” Ron said, filling the silence. Ginny realized her eyes had not left the back door George exited. “Charlie went back to Hogwarts to convince him to leave. He got back maybe 20 minutes before you did.”

Ginny wouldn’t know what to say either when everyone looked at you like they were seeing a ghost.

“Where’s everyone else?” Ginny asked.

Ron nodded to the back door. “Bill and Fleur are out back. They checked the house for curses, but haven’t finished the rest of the property.” He pointed to the stairs next. “Mum’s up in her room. I imagine now that dad is back, she will spend the rest of the day in the kitchen. She shares her love through food, you know. And I think she has a lot of love she will want to share.”

Ron’s prediction that Molly Weasley would cook a feast for dinner was not far off. A few hours later, everyone was crammed at the table, along with enough food to feed them for days. Harry sat next to her with a plate stacked full. Throughout their meal, they exchanged casual brushes and quick glances. 

“What are Kingsley’s plans with the Ministry?” Harry asked her dad as he passed the salad bowl to her.

“There is a lot to figure out. The Ministry was corrupted, that is no secret.” Percy kept his head down, avoiding the gaze of his father. Arthur took a bite of his chicken before continuing, “It is fair to assume there will be trials, but those probably won’t occur until later this summer. First, the physical damages of the war need to be fixed before the government can fix itself. Kingsley is working with Gawain to assess the damage first.”

“Do we know how many people lost their lives?” Bill asked.

Arthur shook his head. “It is unclear. There are still those unaccounted for in addition to those in critical care at Saint Mungos. But right now the number is at 43, not including Death Eaters.” 

The clattering of silverware halted. Silence overcame the table as the magnitude of the battle overcame them. 

“Excuse me,” Harry stood, tossing his fork on his half finished plate of food. He crossed the kitchen and made his way up the stairs, not bothering to look back at any of them. 

Ron silently stood too, following Harry up. Hermione paused, eyes following Ron, but she stayed in her seat. “He will be fine,” Hermione reassured the table, not making eye contact with any direct member of the Weasley family as she spoke. 

The table remained awkwardly quiet for the rest of the meal. Fleur spoke of Shell Cottage to fill the silence. Ginny excused herself to her room as soon as she felt appropriate to leave. 

“I will be right back,” Hermione said as she passed Ginny’s bedroom door later that evening, two plates of food balanced on her arm. 

Ginny nodded and continued to get ready for bed. By the time Hermione returned, Ginny had already tucked herself into bed, facing the wall. Hermione silently dressed for bed. “Goodnight, Ginny.”

Her circadian clock was off. Even though her entire body felt exhausted, Ginny lay awake staring up at the cracked ceiling of her own bedroom for hours. Sleeping at Muriel’s threw her off. In other circumstances, she would have taken this opportunity for a night flight. But she didn't feel safe flying alone tonight. Her mum would also be worried sick if she found out Ginny went out alone unsupervised in the middle of the night. Ginny did not need to be an added reason for her mother's stress right now. 

So instead she shifted in her bed, trying to drift off to sleep. Counting Hermione's rhythmic breaths as she slept on the cot next to her bed. 

One.

Two.

In.

Out.

Ginny tried to prevent her thoughts from drifting to anything depressing. No Fred, no Hogwarts, not even her childhood home. So instead she tried to make her mind go blank, to think of absolutely nothing besides the sound of Hermione’s breath.

Her counts of Hermione’s breaths quickened. “No, please no!” 

“Hermione?” Ginny leaned over the edge to peer down at her friend. Her face was twisted in distress. The faded quilt was thrown off her body as she tossed and turned in her sleep. “It’s fake! Please stop!” a blood curdling, terrible scream escaped Hermione’s lips. 

Hermione bolted straight up, eyes widened in fear, her hand reached for her right forearm. Ginny crawled out of her bed, squeezing next to Hermione on the cot. Tentatively, she reached out, stroking her back. 

Hermione flinched away from her touch before finally relaxing. She tugged the sleeves of her jumper down her arms and pulled her knees into her chest. Ginny continued to try to provide comfort to her friend.

After a few minutes of silence, Hermione finally looked at her. “Sorry.”

Wrapping Hermione into an embrace, Ginny whispered, “You have no need to apologize. I wasn’t even asleep.”

Hermione hummed. “Bellatrix, well…” she trailed off, staring out the bedroom window. The quarter moon provided minimal light in Ginny’s bedroom, so Ginny could hardly make out the look on Hermione’s face. “Nevermind,” Hermione finished, pushing herself away from Ginny, standing. “I’m going to go sleep upstairs, so you can get some rest. Goodnight Ginny.”

She grabbed her wand and bolted out the door, leaving Ginny all alone. 

Ginny sighed and crawled back into her own bed. She punched her lumpy pillow, trying to find a comfortable enough position to drift off to sleep. With Hermione gone, she lost her distraction from letting her mind run wild. Now, thoughts of Bellatrix infiltrated her head. 

Chaos reigned. Flashes of lights of every color surrounded her. She fired off spells at any person still cowardly enough to hide their face behind a mask. Harry was dead, but Tom had not won. She would make sure of it. Ginny caught sight of her wild mane of black hair before she saw her face. Firing off a cascade of curses, each aimed for Tom’s right-hand woman, each somehow deflected with ease. Bellatrix gave her a wicked smile, and for a moment Ginny wondered if Bellatrix knew exactly who she was and why she was so distraught. Hermione and Luna joined her side to fight Bellatrix. A streak of green passed her head, and for a moment, Ginny thought she would finally be at peace.

All good judgment she made hours prior about not flying tonight was out the window. She needed out.

Shoving her feet in her trainers and grabbing a jumper to combat the cool May evening air, Ginny quickly slipped out of her bedroom. Taking the stairs two at a time, pushing open the backdoor, and sprinting the moment she stepped out into the night. 

With no one to tend to it in over a month and Death Eaters to trample it to the ground, the orchard was a disaster. Apples littered the ground, the sweet fruit squashed underfoot. The burnt grass damp with dew. 

The broom closet smelled musty. Thankfully,  it appeared untouched. Ginny grabbed an old Cleansweep, swinging one leg over the handle in a fluid motion. Her feet firmly placed on the ground, inhaling the cold air, she pushed off into the dark sky. 

The common phrase “It’s like riding a broom,” never fit so eloquently. Months away from the sky, and it is almost like she had never left. She pressed her chest closer to the handle to center her gravity, and she was soaring. Past the treeline and the top of her home, she flew lazy laps. Circling the property, spiraling in the open air. 

Her lungs expanded with cold air, her heart kicked faster with adrenaline, and her mind forgot old haunts. She felt invincible. She felt alive. 

Slowly, she looped closer to the ground. 

She noticed his dark hair first. 

Once she flew within earshot, Harry started to speak. “Imagine my surprise to be awoken in the middle of the night to the sound of your brother snogging.”

For the first time in days, Ginny smiled "I hope it wasn't with the picture of Aunt Muriel he keeps stashed under his pillow.”

A laugh escaped Harry’s lips. It was one of the most joyous sounds Ginny ever heard. "I think he finally has reason to dispose of that picture."

“Oh?” Ginny questioned, the tips of her toes grazing the grass as she hovered closer to him. 

The corner of Harry’s mouth quirked up, “Your brother is snogging Hermione Granger.”

“When did that happen? Oh, you haven’t been stuck third wheeling them this entire time have you?” Ginny asked, sympathetically patting Harry’s arm. 

Harry looked down at where Ginny was touching him, slowly moving his other hand up to give her fingers a gentle squeeze. Ginny sucked in a breath. 

He shook his head, letting go of her hand, “They didn’t snog until yesterday.”

“But yesterday was the ba-”

“Exactly,” Harry said, interrupting her. “How long have you been out here?”

"I couldn’t sleep, and Hermione had a nightmare,” she said, shaking her head. “It was Bellatrix. That's all that I know."

A dark look crossed Harry’s features. "I can only imagine."

Ginny did not push further. It wasn't Harry’s secret to tell, nor was it her's to know. 

Instead, she slid off the Cleansweep and took a seat next to him. Enough space to not touch, but enough to feel the electricity between them. The hairs on her arm stood straight up. All day, tension wrung between them. Each touch sparked every nerve in her body. For months, she dreamt about what she would do when she saw him again, and now she was too overwhelmed to act. 

They sat in the silence, staring up at the stars. As each second ticked by, she became more and more unsure how to express how much she missed him. Harry shifted beside her, and Ginny braved a glance to peek over at him only to find his bright, green eyes focused on her. 

He hesitated for only a moment before his signature look of determination swept across his features. A look found right before doing something brave and stupid. 

And then he kissed her.

If Ginny thought it was easy to return to flying after time away, nothing compared to kissing Harry. The feel of his mouth slanted against hers felt like coming home. Nothing was more natural. An instinct. Just like the instinct of Harry’s hands to wind in her hair and hers to press against his chest. 

No words were said aloud, but so much was shared within one kiss. They were always good at having silent conversations. A single look. A single touch. So many emotions and thoughts expressed between them in those moments. 

His hands in her hair. I missed you.

Her hands wrapped around his waist. Please don’t go again.

Their lips pressed together. I need you.

Eventually they broke apart after what could have been several days. Ginny always lost track of time when Harry kissed her. Pulling away, Ginny let out an uncharacteristic giggle, relishing in the warmth of an alive Harry. 

She shifted her weight, leaning against his side. Her head rest on his shoulder. His arms snaked around her waist. Slot against one another like no time had passed since those days spent by the lake. 

That is where they stayed until daylight broke over the horizon. 

Days were quiet. Planning funerals drained livelihood out of the Burrow. Ginny found herself helping where she could. Her mum was constantly cooking in the kitchen, so Ginny would help clean. She didn’t speak, she kept her thoughts to herself. When Harry was in the room, they moved like they were dancing. Never touching. 

Nights were loud. Hermione would leave her room after everyone officially went to bed to join Ron in his. That was when Ginny would sneak out to fly. Harry would join her minutes later, some joke on his lips about Ron and Hermione and how he wished maybe they went back to fighting. Then they would fly together or sit and talk. Eventually, they would fall asleep under the stars pressed into each other's arms, waking just at the crack of dawn to sneak back into their respective bedrooms. 

One bright morning, Ginny followed the scent of fresh breads and sweet sugar down to the kitchen. Her mum hunched over the oven, a faded floral apron tied loosely around her waist. Ginny would not be surprised if she barely missed her mum waking up to slave away in the kitchen right as her and Harry were sneaking back into their beds. 

“Morning, mum,” Ginny said, giving her mum a squeeze around the waist. 

“Good morning, dear,” her mum replied, leaning into her hug. “I would like you and Charlie to run some errands for me today.”

“Sure,” Ginny said, stealing a pastry from the counter. “What do you need?” She asked, mouth full of scone.

Her mum turned back to the oven to pull out a fresh pie. “I would love it if you could run some of these breads to some families for me. The Browns, the Deacons, and the Rivers. I believe Deacon’s daughter was in your year. Sophie was it?”

The scone in her mouth went stale. Bile rose, burning her throat on the way up. Ginny grabbed a napkin off the counter and spit out the mushed up pastry. “Yeah, Sophie,” Ginny’s voice wavered. She cleared the acid from her throat, pushing the sound of late night giggles about Hogwarts gossip out from her head. “I can do that for you. Where’s Charlie?”

After wrangling her second eldest brother from the yard, the pair apparated, Ginny tightly wrapping her hand around Charlie's arm, to the home of Ron’s ex girlfriend. 

Ever the introvert, Charlie left her to do all the talking and condolences. 

After giving her final sorrows to the Brown Family, Charlie grabbed her arm and apparated them to the small Wizarding village the Deacon’s lived. 

Ginny stumbles forward as her feet crashed into the stepping stones of her dead dormmates home. Steadying herself, Ginny wondered if she would ever get used to apparition. Flying makes sense. Apparating does not. 

Grabbing her brother’s arm, she turned him to face her, “Listen, let me do this house alone, yeah?”

Charlie gave her a look, questioning her judgment. “You know you aren’t of age and mum would slit my throat.”

“Please. She was my friend.” 

Something in her eyes must have given enough reasoning to Charlie to let her go alone. “I will wait over at the shop across the street. Meet me there when you’re done.”

Ginny pulled him into a hug, wrapping her arms around his thick waist. Charlie was the closest of her siblings to her own height, so she could rest her chin on his shoulder during the embrace. “I won’t be too long.”

She turned away from her brother, the pie her mother gave her rest carefully on her arm. Steadying herself with a shaky breath, she knocked.

A moment passed. And then another. Ginny held her breath as she waited. Maybe she would not have to face them. Maybe she could set the pie down on the step and turn her back and run away from the grief inside the home. But before Ginny could follow her intrusive thoughts, the door opened to a beautiful woman with short auburn hair and laugh lines carved into her face even though she looked as though she had not had a reason to laugh in a long time.

“Hello, my name is Ginn-”

“Ginny come in,” Sophie’s mum invited her in, opening the door wider for Ginny to slip inside. 

She shouldn’t be surprised that Mrs. Deacon knew who she was, a classmate of her daughters, a Weasley, a blood traitor whose family housed The Boy Who Lived for years. Ginny did not want to know what the exact reason was that Mrs. Deacon recognized her. 

“My mum made this for you,” Ginny said, offering the baked pie that would never fill the Sophie-sized hole in her heart. 

“Thank you, that is very sweet of her and sweet of you to drop it off.”

Sophie’s mum took the pie and set it on the kitchen counter filled with other condolence foods. Ginny felt nauseous at the sight. 

Ginny sat on the gray loveseat and turned away from the sight and took in the room around her. Light cascaded in and reflected off of the framed photos on the cream wall to brighten the room. Photos of Sophie and her little brother, Samuel, were everywhere. Together with a woman, who must have been their grandmother, standing in Diagon Alley. Sophie singing in the frog choir with her hair tucked back in her signature butterfly clips. Sam tugging on a much younger Sophie’s hair and running away. All moments forever to cycle on repeat, but to never be updated again.

The bile that she swallowed that morning began to rise again. 

“Would you like something to drink, dear?” Mrs. Deacon asked, pulling Ginny out of her reverie. 

“No, thank you,” Ginny replied, even though she could probably use a glass of water or a shot of firewhiskey.

A grunt from the door leading to the hallway alerted Ginny of Mr. Deacon’s presence. He was a tall man, not as tall as her own father, but much wider. He worked for the Ministry’s Portkey Office. Sophie often boasted about all the places her father traveled for work, and Ginny could see it. A man like him did not belong behind a desk. 

“Elric, this is Ginny. She is,” Mrs. Deacon paused, “She was one of Sophie’s classmates.”

Ginny stood to her feet, “Mr. Deacon, I am so sorry for your loss.”

Mr. Deacon waved his hand, his other rubbing his sternum like he too struggled with gastric reflux at the reminder of Sophie. 

“I too am sorry for yours. I heard you lost a brother.”

The grief of losing Fred washed over her again like a wave that quickly retreated into a cool, cold nothing. “Yes, I did. Thank you.” Ginny sat back down on the couch. The Deacons sat across from her, gripping each other’s hands. 

Silence swept over the room like a cloak. Thick, warm, and suffocating. 

Ginny broke the silence first.

“Sophie was-,” Ginny paused, clearing her throat, “she was a beautiful soul. Her voice lit up the dorm room. She would sing under her breath and she studied and then belt songs in the shower. She was wicked at potions and brilliant at Gobstones. She was one of my best friends, and I am so sorry for your loss.”

The all too familiar prickling sensation behind her eyes grew. Rapidly blinking, trying to keep the tears at bay, because she had so much more to say. So she pressed on. “I was there,” Ginny said, looking up to meet Mrs. Deacon’s eye. 

The scent of smoke encroached her olfactory system. The feel of Sophie’s manicured hand in her own haunted her skin. 

Ginny ignored the memories and pressed on. “When You-Know-Who asked for a pause, I went out to the ground to help.” The words recover bodies left unsaid. “I saw her lying there. She was alive, and she was asking for you. She loved you so much.” The tears building in her eyes escaped, rolling steadily down her cheeks. 

"They told us her body was recovered during The Silent Hour, but never by who," Mr. Deacon said, tears brimming his eyes. “Thank you, Ginny.”

The guilt bubbling in her gut was interrupted by footsteps bounding down the steps. Little, 12-year old, Samuel Deacon slid into the room.

“Ginny!” Samuel shouted, eyes filled with joy as though he were seeing a hero. And to him he probably was. She had not seen him in months. Thankfully, Samuel was long gone from Hogwarts during the battle, but the last time she saw him was forever ingrained in her brain. The memory seeped through her pores.

“Pain does not last forever,” Amycus Carrow said to a room full of scared students. “But the memory of it does.”  He sauntered across the front of the entrance hall, each step deliberate to draw out the dramatics of what he was saying. Ginny guessed he got this schtick from Tom. “Which is why it makes such an excellent punishment. You remember the pain, so maybe next time you won’t misbehave.” He turned to face her, smiling like a Grindylow ready to to entangle their prey within their long fingers. 

“Now can someone please tell me which illiterate idiot graffitied the walls?” Amycus’s voice echoes through the hall. Dozens of eyes stayed focused on the floor. “Was it you?” A finger pointing at a short Hufflepuff boy standing over in the corner. His eyes widened at being called out for a crime he never committed. 

“No,” the boy stuttered. 

“I don’t believe you,” Amycus sneered, clenching the collar of his cloak, dragging him out into the open. “What’s your name, boy?”

“Sa-Samuel,” the young boy managed to stutter out. 

“Well, Sa-Samuel, I hope you remember to never misbehave again.” With those words, Amycus lifted his wand.

Quickly shoving her hand into her bag, fumbling around searching for the jar of paint stashed at the bottom. Her fingers found the cool glass and she yanked it out and threw it at Amycus’s feet. 

He turned to meet her, and grinned. The Grindylow caught his prey. “I see I found the illiterate idiot.” He turned his wand to her face, “Crucio.”

“Sam, it is good to see you,” Ginny asked, voice overly pleasant. 

To Ginny’s horror, Mrs. Deacon said, “Samuel has told me a lot about you.” She smiled too warmly at her. Like she wasn’t the reason Sam was not almost cursed in the first place. Like she wasn’t the last one to see her daughter alive. Like she deserved forgiveness.

Ginny’s stomach turned and threatened to spill out on their carpet. She needed to leave. 

“Thank you so much for your hospitality. I do need to get going.”

Both of the Deacon’s stood immediately. 

“Of course,” Mrs. Deacon said. 

“Let me walk you out,” Mr. Deacon said. 

So Ginny let herself be ushered out. She kept her mouth clamped shut. Afraid to vomit out words along with her guts. 

As she reached the door, Mr. Deacon stopped her, “Sophie’s funeral is set on the thirteenth. We would love it if you could make it.”

Ginny couldn’t trust her words, so she nodded in agreement, and burst out the front door. As soon as the door closed, she broke out into a sprint, down to the corner shop where Charlie should be waiting for her. 

He was leaning against the side wall, lazily smoking a cigarette. 

"Take me home." Ginny said, walking past Charlie. 

"But we have one more-"

"Take me home."

Charlie paused before grabbing her arm and spinning on his heel. They arrived in front of the Burrow a second later. Ginny sprinted to the broom shed. Grabbing the closest broom, not even checking whose it belongs to, Ginny kicked off of the ground. 

She lapped the Burrow several times, streaking by as fast as the broom allowed her. Up in the air, she could blame her tears on the wind in her eyes instead of the guilt she felt in her heart. 

That night, she did not fly.

Hermione snuck out of the room, but Ginny stayed in her bed. Waiting. A soft knock on the door alerted her of his presence. Her bed shifted from his added weight. 

They avoided each other that day. Well really, Ginny avoided him and everyone else. Hiding in the sky, and when she was called inside by her mum, she hid in the kitchen. Charlie did not say anything to her, which was a blessing. Her mum did comment on the extra pie brought up, but a quick lie that the Rivers were not home avoided anymore questions. 

Harry’s arms snuck around her waist, pulling her against his chest. She tucked herself under his chin as he pressed his nose into her hair. Her hair was still damp from the shower she took earlier that evening, but she knew Harry would not care. In fact, he probably preferred it. The scent of her shampoo freshly washed into her hair. It calmed him. 

She wondered if he was struggling with what was going to happen tomorrow as much as she knew she would. 

But she did not ask.

Slowly, his breaths evened as he fell asleep behind her. And Ginny fell shortly after.

All mornings have been quiet since the battle at the Burrow. But none compared to this one. Outside, the morning fog was thick and suffocating. Inside, so was the silence. 

Weasley family members dressed in black to bury their loudest family member. 

When it was time, her father led the family to the grave. Walking in a line to the apparition line on the edge of the Burrow property, and one-by-one apparating to Fred’s final destination. Ginny stood and watched as her loved ones disappeared with a pop. Her dad stood by her side and lifted his arm. 

“Ready?”

No.

“Yes,” she said, gripping his arm. 

The graveyard was busier than she expected. Her family is large, but so was Fred’s impact. 

Old classmates of his, old teammates, old co-workers lined the chairs in the back. Professor McGonagall could be seen from her tall witch’s hat. Hagrid stood off to the side, already loudly sobbing. Ginny felt her tears join his. 

She made her way to the front and sat in her seat nestled between Ron and George. The same small wizard that preached at Dumbledore’s funeral and Bill’s wedding stood in the front. A twisted thought crossed her mind about how busy that man is during this week. 

And he talked in platitudes. He talked about his sacrifice, how he was a light in the family. But never really about Fred. Ginny wished she had taken the time to write something, then maybe Fred would have gotten the send off he deserved. 

George gripped her hand near the end of the small wizard’s speech. “Are you ready to see some magic?” 

Ginny grinned, a warmth spreading across her chest. “Always.”

George grinned back at her, reaching into his pocket, pulling out his wand. With a small flick of his wrist. A bang behind the gravestones went off.

Gasps wrang out from behind her. Aunt Muriel gave out a shriek of terror, as fireworks lit up the foggy sky. 

Sparks flew above her, spelling out the initials F.W. And for the first time all week, Ginny was  crying, but she was not upset by it. 

After the funeral, the mood was much brighter, the fog outside lifted with the smoke of the fireworks, and Ginny could feel like she could breathe again. 

Slowly, the crowd began to thin. Angelina grabbed George’s arm and loudly declared that they were going to the Leaky to celebrate Fred’s life and a group followed her. Bill, Charlie, and Fleur followed shortly after them. After a moment of contemplation, Percy followed suit. 

Her mother gave her a kiss on the cheek before heading further into the graveyard to where her brothers lay. Her father followed a few steps behind her. 

Ron and Hermione were still sitting in their seats. Their chairs were now pushed impossibly close together as Hermione almost sat on Ron’s lap with her head tucked against his chest, and Ron’s face pressed into her hair. Masking the tears that he was shedding.

Ginny steadily made her way up to Fred’s grave. Ash sprinkled the grass from the firework show. She lowered herself to the ground, sitting to the right of the gravestone. 

“Hey, Forge,” Ginny murmured, closing her eyes and resting her head on the stone. “Miss you.”

Ginny slowly descended down the stairs, unsure exactly which one would creak under her step. She wasn’t sure who would be worse to alert of her late night excursion: her mother or her great aunt. 

All she wanted to do was see them and not just take Bill’s word for it that they were safe. Luna. Dean. Hermione. Ron. And of course Harry. Mum nearly locked her in her bedroom when Ginny asked to go to Shell Cottage. 

So now she was sneaking to the fireplace in the middle of the night to floo her way over to Shell Cottage. A task significantly less dangerous than any of the times she snuck out in the middle of the night this last year. 

The third from the bottom step let out a loud groan. 

“Shit.”

“Going somewhere?” A voice from the top of the stairs called down to her. Thankfully, it was the person who would most likely go with her on this adventure.

“I thought getting some nice fresh, saltwater air would be nice at this time of night. Want to come along?” Ginny asked, nodding her head to the living room.

Fred quickly descended the stairs, uncaring if he woke the entire house along the way. 

"Is that the plan then? Run off to Shell Cottage without letting anyone know where you're going?"

"You know."

"I know because I caught you sneaking out," Fred retorted. "And when mum and dad wake in the morning and find your bed empty? What will you do after they chain you to your bed?"

Ginny rolled her eyes, "They won't tie me to the bed." 

"No, probably not, but you won't be let out of their sight. And when the time comes when it is important for you to sneak out, you won't be able to." 

"What do you mean?" Ginny asked, hating that she didn't understand. 

"I'm saying, wait. Wait until something big. I will go with you then. Not when you're sneaking out to see your boyfriend."

"Ex-boyfriend."

"I didn't realize you were sneaking off to see Thomas. Don't let me stop you then," Fred teased. 

"Oh, shove off," Ginny said, pushing his shoulder. 

Heavy footsteps pulled her from her thoughts. Harry stood above her, head of messy hair blocking the sun. He held his hand out, an offer to help her up. 

She took it, pulling herself up and into his arms in one fluid motion. He enveloped her in a hug, holding her tight against his chest. Ginny breathed in the scent of him. Woodsy and cool, like the morning air in the autumn. 

Reluctantly, she detangled herself from him, keeping her hand intertwined in his. There they stood, hand in hand, staring down at Fred Weasley’s grave.

Fred Weasley

1/4/1978 - 2/5/1998

Mischief

Harry gave her fingers a squeeze before letting go. He bent down in front of Fred’s grave. He paused for a second, before pulling out his wand, waving it carefully. A bouquet of daisies appeared in the dirt. Fresh and white. Harry stood, reaching back for her hand, but refusing to look at her. 

“Hermione and I went to my parent’s graves on Christmas. She did this,” Harry said, waving his hands at the flowers on the ground, “I thought Fred deserved some too.” He bent down and picked one from the ground, “Daisies mean new beginnings.” 

He shifted his weight, "or at least that's what Hermione told me when she showed me how to do the spell."

Ginny’s gut twisted into a knot. "They're beautiful," was all she could muster out. She wasn't sure she wanted a new beginning. She wanted to start all over. 

"For you," Harry said, handing her a single flower. 

Ginny smiled and accepted the pity flower. Harry didn't believe in the pity flowers either, but it was thoughtful, so Ginny tucked it into her pocket. 

When she got home later that night, she tossed it into her windowsill. With hope that maybe the rest of the summer improved from the beginning. 

The next several days were spent in mourning. Traveling from funeral to funeral. 

Colin’s funeral was hard because she spent 30 minutes before leaving being coached by Hermione on the intricacies of a muggle funeral. Obviously, no fireworks like Fred’s nor an ablaze casket like at Dumbledore’s. But instead a metal contraption that would slowly lower his wooden casket into the ground. 

She sat near front on the side with Neville and Seamus on either side of her. Harry with Ron and Hermione in the back, trying to keep attention off of them as much as possible. 

Ginny grieved for her friend. Her Herbology partner. The person who never tired answering her questions about the Muggle World. The same sinking feeling that ebbed and flowed in her since the battle came back. She was the reason why he lost half of his first year lying petrified in the hospital wing. Tom was the reason he lost the rest of his life.

Tonks and Remus’s funerals were next. Members of the Order carried both caskets. Kingsley had tears streaming down his face with Tonks’ casket on his shoulders. Her dad looked more tired than usual under the weight of Remus’s casket. 

Only one other gravestone stood in the ground on the plot of land. Tonks’ final resting place lay next to the empty grave of her father whose body was never recovered. 

In the last row sat Andromeda cradling a young Teddy Lupin. Remus showed her a picture of young Teddy when he visited the Weasley’s at Muriel’s place. Then, his hair was a bright orange. Now, it lacked any sign of vibrance, instead he wore Remus’s signature sandy hair. 

Next to Andromeda sat Narcissa, poised, dressed head to toe in expensive black robes. Looking every bit out of place Ginny is sure she felt.

Harry did a double-take after he noticed her next to his godson. Ginny reached forward and laced her fingers with his, offering a squeeze of comfort. On the other side of Harry, Ron pulled Hermione closer to his body. 

Instead of the small wizard, Kingsley stood in front of the graves and gave a speech about hope and love and loss. A personal story about Tonks catching a death eater by tripping on top of him was interrupted by wails coming from the back row.

Little Teddy’s uncontrollable sobs echoed in the cemetery. Andromeda tried shushing him to no avail. Narcissa stood, offering a hand, a moment passed before Andromeda passed over her grandson to her sister. Narcissa carried Teddy further away from the funeral and whispers of the guests.

“She has no right,” hissed Ron. 

“It’s fine,” Harry replied, his leg bouncing, looking everything but fine. 

Kingsley continued on with Teddy’s sobs quieted by distance. Ron kept anxiously looking over his shoulder back at Narcissa while Hermione stared straight forward. Harry leaned forward in his seat, releasing his grip on her hand. 

Ginny, for her part, kept listening to Kingsley and silently wondered if she would ever fully understand what happened with those three last year. 

The funeral ended with Kingsley and Gawain Robards casting golden sparks at the pair of caskets before they slowly descended into the ground. 

Gradually, the crowd began to thin out. Narcissa carefully returned to her sister’s side off in the back, swaying back and forth, cradling a sleepy Teddy in her arms. 

Harry stood and started to make his way back towards where his Godson was. 

“Mr. Potter. May I have a word?” Gawain Robards asked. 

Harry froze momentarily, and Ginny wondered if he was going to tell the Head Auror to fuck right off before he calmly nodded. Robards stuck out his hand, leading Harry away from the crowds, in the opposite direction of Narcissa Malfoy. 

Ginny stood frozen next to Ron and Hermione, both just as conflicted as she felt on whether they should eavesdrop on Robards and Harry’s conversation or confront Mrs. Malfoy. 

Her mum approached the Black sisters. Ginny snuck over to the back, Ron and Hermione following her closely, ready to witness whatever drama could unfold between Molly Weasley and Narcissa Malfoy. But instead of sharp words or curses shot from wands, her mum swept both Andy and Narcissa into a warm embrace

“I am so sorry about your sister,” Mum said, pulling away from the Black sisters. 

Narcissa placed a hand on her mum’s arm, “We do anything to protect our children.” She gave Andromeda a curt nod and took a slender finger to brush Teddy’s cheek. “I won’t intrude any longer than I meant to. It was good to see you, Andy.”

With a pop, Narcissa disappeared.

Harry stormed by a few seconds later, Robards still standing where Harry left him, hand rubbing the bridge of his nose. 

“Harry?” Hermione’s voice questioned.

“Later,” Harry shortly replied before apparating off, not even sparing Ginny a second glance. 

Hermione sighed, turning to Ron. “Ready?” Ron gripped her hand and then both disappeared with another pop. 

“Wanker,” Ginny muttered under her breath, “You were supposed to apparate me home.” 

Kicking a rock on the ground, Ginny begrudgingly walked back to where her mother was now rocking Teddy. 

On the thirteenth, Ginny dressed once again in black. Hermione and her traded their black robes so they were not wearing the exact same outfit to every funeral they attended. By the fourth day of funerals, Fleur was offering her wardrobe to them as well, altering her clothes to fit their bodies. 

Harry, Ron, and Hermione attended every funeral, each of them feeling like they owed it to the witch or wizard who lost their life. Just yesterday, they attended the funeral of a Slytherin fifth year girl that none of them had even met. Ginny joined them most days. Harry side-along apparating her to the graveyard. Occasionally, other members of the D.A. would be in attendance and Ginny would stand next to them. 

Harry planned on arriving right before the funeral started, but Ginny wanted to be there as early as possible. Hermione’s heels clicked as she walked down the Burrow steps into the kitchen. “Ready, Ginny?”

Together they apparated to a large wizarding cemetery. A place where thousands of purebloods were buried before. A place that currently had an unusually high amount of fresh mounds of dirt and 6 foot holes due to the significant amount of deaths during the war. 

Ginny found her dormmates immediately. Jessica embracing Elise with Athena rubbing circles on her back. They all looked up as Ginny and Hermione approached the trio.

Jessica let go of Elise to engulf Ginny into a hug. "I am so sorry about Fred, Ginny."

"Thank you, Jess."

Jessica paused before wrapping Hermione in a hug as well.

Athena pulled something out of her pocket and placed it in Ginny’s hand. 

"Here."

Opening her palm, Ginny felt that familiar tug of her gut. In her hand was a green butterfly clip, similar to the ones Sophie often donned in her hair. Looking up, she saw her roommates all had one clipped in their hair as well.

"Thank you," Ginny choked out, clipping her loose strands back. 

"Do you want to sit with us?" Athena asked Hermione. 

Hermione shook her head, "Thank you for the invite, but Ron and Harry should be arriving soon. I will sit with them in the back. You four should sit together."

Hermione gave Ginny’s shoulder a squeeze before walking to the back row of chairs.

The funeral started not too long later. Ginny pressed between Athena and Elise near the front. The four dormmates held hands the entire time, offering gentle squeezes of support to one another as they buried their friend. Little Samuel Deacon sobbed throughout the entire procession, and Ginny wished nothing more than him to have his sister back.

Ginny stayed back after the funeral to watch Harry approach the Deacon family. It was something he did after every burial, apologize to the family. Ginny wished Harry understood that Sophie’s death was not his fault. 

Samuel turned away from his parents and gave her a small wave. Ginny lifted her hand, but turned away. The nausea associated with Sophie was churning in her stomach once again. 

That night, with her back pressed against Harry’s chest and one of his arms draped across her churning stomach, she lay frozen still.

"You okay?" Harry murmured in her ear.

She wasn't, but she couldn't admit that secret out loud. Especially to the person who carried so much more guilt than she could even begin to imagine. So she lied.

"I'm fine."

Harry had no reason to believe her lie, since it was his favorite lie to tell too. But he pretended for her, pulling her closer to his chest, pressing his lips to the back of her skull.

Not shortly after, his breaths evened out as he was lulled to sleep. Ginny’s brain was ignited on fire, keeping her awake.

“I know, it’s going to be alright,” Ginny lied. Sophie continued to whimper in pain. Ginny could only bear to look at her face, scared of what the rest of her crushed body may look like. 

“I want to go home,” Sophie cried out, tears leaking down her face. Ginny felt tears well up in her eyes too. 

A sound from behind her drew her away from her dying friend. Ginny couldn’t see anyone, but something in her wanted to get up and follow. 

Sophie’s weak cough drew her back in. Blood tinged on her lips, her face losing color as each second passed. “Will you stay with me until I go?” Sophie asked, her voice childlike. She is just a child, Ginny realized. At 17 years old, there was so much Sophie never experienced. So many people Sophie was leaving behind. Ginny’s gut flipped realizing this is why her own mother wanted her to stay hidden.

“Of course,” Ginny choked out.

Sophie’s fingers managed to find Ginny’s. “It’s okay, Gin. You were one of my best of friends.”

Ginny snapped herself out of the memory. Harry still wrapped tightly around her, his heat radiating off his body suffocating her. She wrestled herself out from underneath him, desperately trying to not wake him. She needed fresh air.

Barefoot in the grass, Ginny padded to the paddock and grabbed her broom. She took flight and hoped the night air could cool the fire she felt in her brain.

As the sun began to crack streaks of light in the sky, Ginny crept back into her bedroom. Harry softly snored in her sheets. Ginny smiled as she slid back into his arms. She had been awake for nearly 24 hours, her brain was finally exhausted enough to finally fall asleep.

With no more funerals to attend, the rest of May trickled by. Everyone was stagnant with grief, finding it difficult to progress on. Charlie was growing restless, staying now at Shell Cottage with Bill and Fleur, but not feeling like he could abandon the family back in Romania just yet. Every time he mentioned the country, her mum would burst into tears. 

Percy was just there. All the time. He and her dad would attend work, but then he would always come back to the Burrow instead of his own apartment.

Ginny sat with George most days. They had a quiet understanding that talking was the last thing either one of them wanted to do. A few days a week, they would go to Weasleys' Wizards Wheezes and organize the mess. Some days, Lee Jordan and Angelina Johnson would stop by and help up, filling in the silence with endless chatter. Other days, the pair would sit on the front counter, passing back and forth a bottle of butterbeer with the radio blasting Wizard Rock in the background. 

Ron and Hermione were wrapped around each other at all times of the day. One couldn't even use the toilet without the other hovering nearby on the stairwell.

She had not seen Harry in days due to conflicting schedules. He would fall asleep in her bed after a long day of performing bullshit politics with Kingsley, and Ginny would join him after her nightly flight. When she finally rose in the late morning, his side of her bed would be cold.

Moments alone were rare, and those moments were spent exploring each other's bodies instead of exploring each other's thoughts. They were two vastly different novels only sharing a page with one another and then snapping the book shut before either one could read any further. So Ginny came to her own conclusions. 

The burn marks on his thighs were fresh as though his escape dragon from Gringotts scorched him. The ribs she traced with finger in the dark told her that food was scarce. The lightning shaped scar on his chest told a horror story she didn't want to touch with a ten foot pole. The erythematous circle branded into his chest was the most confusing part of his story. 

Ginny hated to think what conclusions Harry was drawing from her body.

On a cool evening in late May, Ginny decided to actually retire to bed at a reasonable time. The sky had opened into a massive thunderstorm which was not relenting any time soon. Harry and her had played a round of Exploding Snap earlier in the day to pass the time. 

"Are you falling asleep with me tonight?" Harry asked, bare legs crossed on her bed, his hand propped behind his head. He looked so casual, like her bed was his own. 

"Only if you promise not to snore tonight," Ginny teased. 

A pillow flew at her face. Ginny snapped it from the air and threw it right back into Harry’s face. With glasses askew and a smile tugging at his lips, Harry reached out a hand to her.

She eagerly took it, being led to her own bed.

Ginny melted into Harry’s side, his hands immediately resting on her hips pulling her close. She tilted her chin to slot her lips against his.

This part was easy. Harry’s body was a map she had traced and memorized a year ago, and, during the quiet dark nights in her dorm room, she recited to herself. 

His lips were soft and chapped. Teeth grazing her own lips, threatening to roughen her up with a bite or two. His chest pressed against her own. His hands, one always wrapped around a strand of her hair, tugging her whenever she pressed up against him just right. His strong thighs, one always slotted in between her legs.

That was the mantra she replayed in her head over and over while her fingers wandered down her skin last year. 

But now, in the dark of her warm bedroom, it was Harry’s fingers trailing down her body. 

“You’re perfect,” Harry murmured into her collarbone as she moaned his name. 

Ginny came undone with the touch of his fingertips, her world bursting, once again, into a fire. Her insides ignited for Harry. She felt far from perfect, but with Harry she felt alive.

Her hands worked to remove his faded T-shirt, eager to return the favor. Fingers trailed down his chest, avoiding the new scars on his body. She wrapped her hand around his length and Harry’s breath hitched, a noise escaping his mouth that Ginny wanted to bottle up and savor forever. He never had to say anything to her ever again as long as he kept making that noise. 

“Ginny,” Harry moaned, “I don’t think I will last much long-”

Ginny shut him up by capturing his mouth with her own. Teeth grazing his swollen lips. With a few more pumps, Harry shuddered about another moan that made Ginny’s toes curl. 

Harry blinked his eyes open, green irises hidden behind his black pupils, staring hungerly at her. He pressed lazy kisses along her jawline, nose, forehead, before finally catching her lips. “You make me forget everything bad,” Harry sighed into her lips. 

Ginny’s insides turned cold, the blazing heat evaporated and replaced by an icy tundra. She wasn’t sure why, Harry’s confession or the idea of forgetting, losing memories. 

“Goodnight, Harry,” Ginny said, hoping to prevent any more confessions from slipping through his loose lips. 

“Night, Gin” Harry replied softly. 

Harry’s bare chest rose and fell with each breath, and Ginny wished nothing more than the ability to join him in unconsciousness. Her finger traced the lightning bolt on his chest, her own chest tightening with memories of that day. She thought she lost him. The final blow in a series of blows that kept hitting her over and over again that night. 

With everything she lost, she had to keep taking steps. One at a time. 

One breath in. One breath out. 

Ginny glanced out her window. The rain had slowed to a trickle. The blooming daisy sitting in the window sill caught her eye. She bolted up from her bed, grabbing the flower on her way out the door. 

The orchard was still a mess. Her mum had removed the destroyed flowers, but all that was left was upturned earth. Falling to her hands and knees, Ginny dug in the soil. A wand would have made it easier, but she did not want easy.  

Taking a step back and admiring her work, the daisy Harry had given her now rooted in the soil of the orchard. Alone. With a promise of growth.

To new beginnings. 

The best and worst day of June (chapter 2)

If May trickled slowly like the water on the River Styx, June crashed in like a tsunami under Poseidon's rage. 

The back door slammed close after George drunkenly stumbly out 

Maps of Australia and pictures of the brain were pinned up on her walls. Gwenog Jones’s face was covered by a colorful poster highlighting the anatomy of the brain. 

“Do you need any help?” Ginny asked.

Hermione tutted, wrapping her hair into a bun and sticking her want through it. “I wouldn’t mind a fresh pair of eyes. Thanks.”

Ginny picked up one of the massive textbook with a brain on the cover Charms of the Central Nervous System: Don’t be Nervous! Opening to the back glossary, Ginny scanned the O’s until she found what she was looking for.

Peering over her shoulder, Hermione said “I didn’t obliviate my parents’ memories. I blocked them.” 

“What’s the difference?”

Hermione stood from the bed and walked over to the brain poster covering Gwenog’s face. “Obliviation destroys old memories. Burns them. That is why Gilderoy Lockhart will never fully recover because so much of his brain was destroyed. If little bits are taken then there is some neuroplasticity and ability to regenerate what was missing, but if I took 17 years of my parents' lives from them, I would never be able to get that back.” She paused, staring off into the distance, as though she was realizing the challenge she could be facing instead.

Shaking her head, Hermione continued. “So instead of taking away their memories, I hid them behind a wall.”

“The hippocampus stores memories,” Hermione said, pointing to a part of the brain that looked nothing like a seahorse. “So that is where my parents’ memories are being blocked. I just put their old memories behind a wall and put new memories in front of that wall.”

“There has not been a whole lot of research, but in theory, worst case scenario, if I remove their new memories too quickly, I could cause their brain to blow.”

“I’m sorry what?”

“Not like pew pew,” Hermione said, mimicking an explosion. “More like, their brains would swell to fill in the space of the memories that I took back. Which could cause their brain to expand and possibly herniate causing a stroke." 

She mindlessly flipped through the pages of the textbook, hoping something would give her hints about memory and memory loss.

Ginny drops comments every now and then about memory loss

She is not very happy that Hermione took her parents memories

“What are you planning on telling your parents when you see them?”

“That I am their daughter and I had to keep them safe.”

“Do you think they will understand?”

“From personal experience, amnesia and having your memories taken from you can be very traumatizing.”

“This is different from the diary, Ginny. I was trying to keep them safe.”

As we will find out in a later chapter, Ginny is not talking about the diary

"Are you going to go with them?" Ginny asks on a warm night.

"No, I don't fancy facing another Winter so soon," Harry replied

And there it was. A hint about what he had faced this past year, but neither one pushed forward. She could ask, and he might answer, but then he might ask the same of her. And that was something she did not want to answer. Some Gryffindor she is.

Harry tells her everything about the horcruxes and how we was one for the last 16 years of his life.

Ginny tells Harry very little about what she experienced this last year.

Hermione goes up to switch beds like they do every night and when Harry is lying next to her, she dreams about him. But when he talks she hears Tom. When she wakes and Harry is laying right next to her, she freaks the fuck out. 

The next day she runs away to Lunas

Luna “I always liked being outside. Now I love it even more. It is open, and bright. I’m not a big fan of the dark right now.”

“If you want to talk about it, I will happily listen.”

“Ginny, you are such a good listener, but not a very good talker.”

“You should tell Ron that. He says I never shut up.”

“Oh no you talk, you just don’t talk about what is bothering you. You ask questions about me or how other people are doing, but when people ask how you are doing. You deflect. You talk about how Quidditch is going, or how your family is. But never you.

A few nights later, Harry joins her out flying, and that is when she admits that she is afraid that she was never in love with Harry, but she was attracted to the horcrux within him this entire time.

Harry has to put his big boy pants on and try to be emotionally mature hearing that from her. (Boy does not do a very good job, but at least he is trying)

He tries to get her to open up more about what happened to her and slowly we start to see some things

She picked up a strand of grass, carefully pulling it apart into two separate pieces. A simple distraction. "What do you know of last year?"  

"Only what little Neville has told me."

"I'm sure what he told you paints the picture of what happened," she shrugged. She couldn't meet his gaze, she stared at the grass in her hand, delicately tying it into a knot. His hand reached for hers, fingers intertwining. He squeezed her hand gently, reassuringly. Offering support. 

---

She is hiding. She doesn’t want to talk to Harry, or see her mum’s broken face. So she is hiding in the one place no one would look. 

Laying on Fred’s bed, she could finally be alone. 

***enter depressing thoughts here***

---

On June 22nd, she dreams of Tom. She always dreams of him on this day. Their anniversary of meeting face to face in a chamber meant to be a secret. She wants to ask Harry if he remembers, but she doesn't dare for the fear of what he might say. 

I forgot.

Lucky you.

So she keeps this nightmare to herself just like she kept the past year to herself. She felt like she was slowly becoming a chamber full of secrets herself.

That night, with her back against Harry’s chest and one of his arms draped across her stomach, was the first time she felt brave all day. In the dark where he couldn’t see her face, when they were alone, unlikely to be overheard since the house was asleep. She finally muttered the truth that haunted her.

“I'm the reason Sophie's dead.”

The only indication that Harry heard her was the pause in his breath. Harry’s arm tightened, pulling her impossibly closer to his chest. And because he understands her perfectly, he does not suggest that she possibly could not be a murderer, he asks a different question.

“Why do you think so?”

She inhales slowly, calming down her nerves. “I left her on the courtyard. We were fighting together, Colin and Seamus were also there. Spells were flying everywhere, and I lost her in the crowd. There just was so much chaos. Then a death eater was in front of me, I think it was Avery, firing curse after curse at me,” Ginny paused, flashes of that night playing over and over in her mind. “I fired a reducto at the arch above his head and it collapsed on top of him. But it caused a lot more damage. It wasn’t much later that Voldemort called for a pause. 

“After, well after, I went inside,” Ginny said, skipping over finding out about Fred’s death, “I went out to the courtyard to find survivors. To help. That is where I found her. Underneath the rubble that I caused.”

"You couldn’t have known.”

But Ginny felt like she should have known better. She knew innocent actions have consequences after surviving her first year

I've been down since July

In the cracks of light, I dreamed of you

The Great Depression 

Pieces of her life were black. Dark and missing and forgotten. She had soared to unimaginable heights to try to find them, but every time she thought she heard a whisper of a memory, it turned into his voice mocking her, or worse, her own voice laughing at her. 

Hermione and Ron come back from Australia

Hermione apologizes to Ginny because her mum cannot forgive her. Her dad had to play mediator in the argument.

Her parents are coming back to England eventually, but not yet. They wanted more time before returning home. 

Ron and Ginny conversation

"It's supposed to be easy. Harry and me. How it was before."

"What did you used to talk about."

"I tried prying once to know what he was up to with Dumbledore, but Harry not so subtly shut that down quickly.  So we stuck to safe topics. Quidditch, O.W.L.s, how maroon definitely isn't your color."

Ron scowled. 

Criminal Trials get announced for the Death Eaters and the date

A brown owl flew into the kitchen, dropping off the newest edition of the Daily Prophet on Hermione’s plate. She reached into her shorts pocket to trade a knut for the paper. Ron fed a small piece of his breakfast sausage to the owl as compensation as well. The owl gave a satisfied hoot before flapping its wings and flying out of the kitchen window. 

Ginny pointed her fork at her brother. "Who was the person I suggested you snogged for practice?"

"Are you seriously asking me security questions right now?"

"The Ron Weasley I know would never voluntarily give up some of his breakfast."

Ron stabbed his fork in another piece of sausage, taking the whole thing in his mouth, "Yeah well I've matured."

"Oh! They released the dates for the trails!" Hermione shouted, interrupting them. 

Ron looked away from her and turned back to his girlfriend. “When’s Malfoy’s?” He asked, kindly swallowing his food before asking. 

The Carrow trials get announced for like August 13th, making sure that they are AFTER Ginny's birthday which makes her an adult, therefore, she is required to speak at them if they summon her as a witness 

yeah this was done intentionally, fuck the ministry for forcing my girl to have to relive her trauma

Harry’s birthday 

Ginny gets drunk at Harry’s party

I love you, ain't that the worst thing you’ve ever heard?

August slipped away

Ginny’s birthday 

Carrow trials

Amycus was a man. He only understood pain in tears and in blood. He didn’t understand that to girls blood meant nothing more than washing their sheets that night before bed. He didn’t understand that girlhood was pain, or that tears could be shed from grief or laughter. 

Alecto was a woman. She understood that trauma of girlhood because no matter how horrid she currently is, she was a victim of it too. She understood how to torture a young girl scared of her past. She knew how to weaponize memories, or the lack thereof, so that Ginny could continue to torture herself without Alecto lifting another finger. 

Ginny turned to the other side of the courtroom where Amycus Carrow sat. His face emotionless, but his muddy eyes filled with glee, like her reliving her torture was *erotic* for him. 

She felt her heart quicken. Calm down.

Breathe in and out.

"Her brother told me."

Her mind brought her back to the floor of the DADA classroom. Those same hungry brown eyes staring down at her, his wand still raised. Every one of her nerve endings felt like it was on fire, every synapse filled with ice. Her mind bounced from one area of her body to the next, unable to focus on what body system hurt the most. Amycus lowered his wand and sneered down at her, "I know Alecto makes you forget her detentions, but I want this one to be unforgettable."

The courtroom was silent. The judge leaned forward in his chair, "Can you please further explain, Miss Weasley?"

Breathe In.

Out.

In.

Out.

• So since I never actually wrote what happened to Ginny during her time with Alecto, I will tell you all now. Alecto would erase Ginny's memory after every detention. Often times, the detentions were tame, because the punishment was the fact that Ginny was slowly losing her mind and she felt like she was reliving her first year at Hogwarts. Alecto figured out that Ginny was the girl in the chamber (because how would people not know this information? like Ginny wrote her suicide note on the wall in red paint) and used that to torment her. Also tying in the fact that Amycus was still torturing my poor girl with the cruciatus curse, Ginny was going through it. And it is not like she could really tell anyone what was happening to her because she didn't know what was happening to her. She eventually pieced it together.

• The coming together of Harry and Ginny officially 

You'll Have New Septembers

The epilogue where Harry sends Ginny off on the Hogwarts express

[rosesofchaosmeow]

He has the blank eye stare…

It’s the Netherlands 🇳🇱 from Hetalia !!

(Oh god why did I get Hetalia autism and not math smart autism..)

He’s such a silly money man

I hope he falls down a cliff and snaps his neck :3

My favorite part of drawing this was his hair bcz lowkey it was the easiest and fastest part lol

Next drawing will be Nyo!England !!

[veevei]

DAWN IN THE ADAN

megumi x reader smau | prev | masterlist | next

ch 25: minecraft

yn rushes back to her dorm after she just got a text that the stream would be starting soon.

opening the door from her 15 minute sprint from the coffee shop to her dorm —why did she even go get coffee and an egg and cheese sandwich at 8pm?— doesnt matter anyways as she turns on her laptop

“i should get a better laptop.. maybe a pc when i graduate..” mumbling to herself while texting maki, not even bothering to tweet a stream announcement. toge and yuji probably did it already anyways.

yn joins minecraft and the proximity chat with nearly everyone in it. they were still waiting on one more person, megumi. whatever

she continues eating her english muffin which is nearly finished by now. once shes done megumi finally joins the call. yn puts down her phone which she was scrolling on pinterest on for minecraft house ideas and starts getting blocks.

this wasnt a speedrun anyways, theyll probably play again soon. while yuji and toge are doing their own thing— killing mobs, mining, actually progressing — yn was barely done either getting the wood for her house.

she was pretty quiet for the stream because of how tired she was. not because shes sleepy but because of classes. whenever shes not in class shes either studying or streaming, sometimes alone sometimes with her friends. she only got rest on sundays and fridays, this week looks like its going to just be friday.

even though she was with her friends she still felt alone. toge and yuji were trying to speedrun the game, and maki was pretty much doing the same thing yn was doing but with nobara following along, yuta was mining, he was still talking on stream and had some energy left. megumi was.. what is he doing?

maybe maki and nobara will become better friends. thats fine, nobaras nice enough.

hours later they go into the end and kill the ender dragon. this is boring. shes nearly done with her house and hasn’t spoken to basically anyone after the end. right now everyone is trying to kill eachother—more like yuji and toge trying to kill everyone— and yn still hasnt gotten above iron armor

she heads into a random strip mine that yuta probably dug in the beginning on the game, after 20 minutes she starts to hear a voice. she turns around to see nothing. the voice is probably coming from above her anyways. before long she starts getting hit by what she thought was a zombie. she turned around and started immediately hitting megumi.

“oops sorry. i thought you were a mob” yn says while giggling. “thats my fault anyways. do you have any iron?” megumi asks yn. “why?” yn says while checking her inventory, not that she needed to. she knew she had atleast a stack of iron by now.

yn throws him the iron. “i didnt say my reason first, i could be trying to kill you, you know” megumi says. “are you trying to kill me?” yn retorts. “nah, kay bye. thanks for the iron”

“no problem”

by the time she gets to the surface most everything is either on fire or covered in random cobblestone. no one had died yet but yuji was chasing after nobara screaming about how she killed his dog.

yn laughs to herself as she starts to travel back to her house from spawn. she made sure it was far away just because she did not want her house to be burned down by toge.

when she checks her chest she finds that all of her diamonds that she got from the end city were gone. probably yutas or makis doing, toge wouldve destroyed the house down the moment he saw it.

yn crafts herself a suit of diamond armor and a diamond axe from the diamonds she just minded and she heads back to spawn. 5 minutes later she starts to here yelling, she sprints to yuta asking where her diamonds went. “yuta! did you take my diamonds? i had like 7 but now theyre all gone” “oh yeah.. i thought that was makis house.”

yn gives the deadest stare to anyone who was still watching her stream, they all probably moved to yuji or toges because they still somehow were talkative.

“whatever”

by the time yn makes it back, she sees yuji and toge scavenging in her house. how did they even find it? it was like 700 blocks away from spawn, she thought that was far enough. atleast they didnt burn it down yet.

STUPID BABY WAS SLAIN BY YUJI

“MY CAT WHAT THE FUCK YUJI” yn yells. yuji gasps and says “THAT WAS YOURS?” yn gets her axe and immediately starts hitting yuji “THIS IS MY HOUSE WHAT DID YOU THINK??”

“i thought it was makis!! STOP HELP, HELP ME TOGE”

toge had already left the moment yuji started killing her cat.

4 hours later yuji and toge are being killed for their crimes. right after that the stream ends.

“that was fun.. i think atleast.” yn mumbles to herself as she shuts her laptops, clearing the food and drink off her desk. she glaces at the clock.

1:47 AM

damn it.

whats up guys

this ISNT proof read.. at all

egg and cheese english muffin are so fucking good

1 breakfast food DONT PLAY WITH ME.

yn and megs first interaction???!!!

25 ch deep 😭🙏

i hate this

i haven’t started ch 27 yet… 😕

spiderman across the spider man reference

“givemeamin” how cute he put it in one word yk kids these days

idk what he said but it was smth like that

everyone thinks yns stuff is makis

bye

yns english muffin 🤤 yns inspo from pinterest

taglist (19/20) ask to be added/removed

@frogtits1 @matsugumisou @megumisdivinedogs @satoryaa @starmaiya11 @tuna-toes @loriisheart @kurtcobaingirlie @san-it-is-i-guess @tomikixd @blu3-l0v3r @goobleissocool @lucislovebug @jasminasblog22 @walllflowerrrsss @creteansailor @gumims @kiss-my-asscheeks @sirenla

[shhh-secret-time]

Part 2 is 21 pages. Part 1 was 16 pages. Combine that together and that's a 37 page request I pumped out in a day.

oops.

Warning: NSFW, Strong-Language, Dirty Talk, Slight Praise Kink, a bit of jealous behavior, mention of character death, bug violence(?), bit of PTSD

Pairing: Gunslinger!Kyle x Fem!Reader

When you finally woke up, the first thing that came to your mind was just how dry your mouth felt. You swallow roughly and it burns the back of your throat in a different way the alcohol of last night did. It felt like you were trying to swallow steel wool, forcing what little saliva pooled in your mouth down your throat.

The second thing was the fact the horse had gone back to a slow trot. No longer could you hear hooves on cobblestone. The wind was no longer whipping around your head and through your hair. The smell of the city long gone, now replaced with a deep earthy scent.

The third was the feeling of Kyle's arms still wrapped around you, one pulls away from your side for a moment. You feel him move around, trying to rub the sleep out of his eyes. He presses his fingers into his heavy eyelids before returning them to the reigns.

Finally, all three things fall into place as you piece it all together. Kyle feels the way your body bolts up away from his chest and brings his horse to a stop. He pulls her off to the crummy dirt road and off to the side.

"Oh! I apologize! I didn't mean to fall asleep like that! I can't believe I just passed out!" Panic sets into your voice and guilt eats at you when you realize he probably rode all through the night.

"It's fine ma'am. I figured you could use the rest. Please don't take any offense or nothin' but you look like you ain't seen much shut eye." Kyle smiles at you holding his hand up to try and settle you.

"I-.... you’d be right. Still, that's no excuse. You're still a stranger, the fact that I just fell asleep like that..."

"A stranger you shot a man for. A stranger you saved from gettin' strangled to death. I never did get to thank you for that." He pauses for a moment as he gets down from the horse. Kyle takes the reigns with him, choosing to walk along aside the horse now. "I've only had a few people in my time willin' to do somethin' like that for me and I at least know their names."

It hits you like a brick. In less than twenty-four hours you got into your first ever bar fight, shot a shotgun, slugged a man with said shotgun, all but bribed the sheriff, ran off with a man who didn't even know your name, and then fell asleep on said man who didn't even know your name. You catch yourself staring down at the handsome gunslinger, breaking yourself out of the daze trance like stare. It was hard not to admire him; looks aside he's been nothing but a delight to you. It would have been all too easy for him to just dump you off somewhere, leaving you and your problems behind.

Instead, here he was. Walking alongside you and his horse, without even so much as asking you about your business. Why you wanted to go out West, or why you needed to hire him in the first place. You hadn't even told him how much you were paying him for all of this.

"Ma'am?" Oh, right, your name.

"I'm being all types of rude, aren't I? I'm sorry..."

"Ain't nothin' to apologize for. I figured you got a reason for keepin' secrets. If you don't wanna tell me, I ain't gonna make ya." He shrugs.

 It takes you a minute to gather your thoughts, but when you do you finally gain the courage to ask him. "Why are you being so accepting about all of this? Shouldn't you be surprised or at the very least upset?"

"The way I see it, you saved my skin back there twice. Once with Knucklehead and the other with the Sheriff." He says sheriff with a sneer, "I owe you. Besides the way you begged the sheriff to let us go, I could tell you were in some kind of trouble. Wouldn't be right of me to turn my back on someone who needed help."

"So, what, you're just doing this out of obligation and the kindness of your heart?"

That makes him laugh again, but he quickly shakes his head. "Guess you could put it like that. Walk the righteous path and clear all debts sort of ordeal. But I don't think it goes that deep. Like I told the bartender last night, I'm just a simple fella tryin' to make a livin'."

You sit on his horse in awe, if this was an act he was putting on it was a damn fine one. You run your fingers through the horse’s mane, brushing out the sand and dirt on the poor creature who must be so tired. She huffs a little, but she doesn't move her head, so you continue.

After a few moments of walking and silence, you tell him your name. Your full name.

Every time you speak, he gives you his full attention, looking up at you with that gentle smile. You expect his eyes to widen like everyone else's when you drop your last name, your family was famous after all. Instead, he nods along and practices the sound of your name on his tongue.

He says it again and hearing it whispered in that voice of his sounds divine. Once he likes the way it feels and sits, he turns back to the road and keeps walking.

"Pretty name...like the way it sounds. I hate the fact that I ain't gonna get to use it much." His lips purse, talking like he's just mumbling to himself.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, it wouldn't be real wise to be usin' your name if you're tryin' to go into hidin'. Even if we are on the road alone, I don't wanna take any chances. If I get in the habit of usin' your name, I ain't gonna wanna stop." He brings the rim of his hat down over his eyes trying to hide the blush on his face. Even though he says it with such confidence it's hard to look you in the eye.

He's not alone, his words have a greater effect on you than he knows. You pull the cloak still wrapped around your body closer to your form, burying your face in the material. Maybe you could just rub your flushed face away or at the very least it would buy you time to slow your heartbeat down.

Kyle was right about one thing. Your last name has brought you nothing but trouble your whole life. So, for now you'd get rid of it, toss it to the side like the various newspapers you saw littering the city streets. Let it drift away and be carried by the Eastern winds. It was time to leave the city girl you were raised to be behind; you were going out West now.

"The only thing I can't seem to wrap my head around." Kyle breaks the silence between you two again. "Is how someone like you learned to shoot like that."

"How do you mean? It doesn't take much to point a gun at someone and pull the trigger, can't really miss with a shotgun when you're that close."

"That's what I'm askin'. It don't take much to pull a trigger, but you knew how to hold it. Held her like you knew her."

"How'd a lawyers boy go from that to being a bounty hunter?" You ask, bringing up the little fact that Sheriff Cartman spat at him last night.

His lips press together in a thin line and for a moment you feel like you might have crossed a line. Said something you shouldn't have, but when his shoulders slump forward you can feel something different. It's not anger in his eyes, maybe regret? Hurt that rests behind those tired green eyes.

"I don't know why I'm tellin' you this. But we're gonna be together for a while, might as well make conversation I suppose." Again, he talks like he's not really talking to you. His inner thoughts spilling from his mouth like brandy in a bottle. "It was bandits."

Your blood runs cold, that could mean anything but, in this context, you had a feeling it wasn't a good one. Your fingers brush down the coat of the horse as he talks, finding comfort in the animal. You can feel the warm and gentle breathing coming from her. If you squint, you could almost swear they had lined up their breathes. She would take in an inhale, and he would let out a puff of air.

"Pa was a lawyer, Ma was a stay-at-home mama. He made enough for all of us and another. I have a baby brother they adopted when I was younger." He goes to tell his story with a little pause in between.

"You said have. He still around?" That question hurts to ask, but curiosity was gnawing at you. You wanted to know more about this gunslinger, that included the bad too.

"Yeah. I think it was when I was fifteen? Pa was puttin' me through school, was studyin' to be like him. I was gonna put away bad people just like him." He takes his hat off with his free hand, he stares down at the inside of the hat. You catch a glimpse of stiches and patchy line work. Past the scuff marks and tears on the old thing it looks like someone tried to patch it back together again. Enough to where it would hold up. But past that there was a little black and white picture tucked in the makeshift pocket of one of the patches.

A skinny man, honestly looked like a strong gust of wind could blow him away, standing next to the most gorgeous looking woman you've ever seen. Her hair was put up in a tight bun, curves on every ounce of her that made her look like something out of those fancy paintings. The dress she wore clung to her body and on her lap was a little boy. Black hair that didn't match the shade of grey on either of the adults behind him. He had a big toothy grin on his face as he held an outstretched hand for the other boy beside him.

It was Kyle. Much younger than he is now, hopeful looking face with his hair cut short and kept clean. The curls sat neatly on the top of his head, and he dressed like some of the men your father did business with. Fine button up grey shirt tucked into a pair of black slacks. A grey tie came down from his collar that disappeared behind a black vest. Still had that soft smile on his face as he looked at the camera.

He quickly puts the hat back on feeling your eyes peering down behind him. Again, you felt like you got a peek into something you shouldn't have seen. If he was bothered you couldn't tell, he just kept talking.

"Pa was always real good at that, puttin' bad people away. Could do it the civilized way, take him down and give 'em a trial. Rely on the system to put 'em behind bars and supposably reform 'em." He scoffs at that statement, "lotta good all that did. Pa put away the wrong man. Some no name bandit leader thinkin' he could take the short way through life and rob some rich folk."

Kyle stops, completely. Stops the horse, stops talking and just stares down at the ground below. You watch a little red scorpion scurry after its dinner. Stinger pulled back and at the ready.

"Men like that got one thing goin' for 'em. They travel in numbers. Numbers that don't like when you mess with their own. Pa wasn't even the man that brought that bandit leader in, but he was the reason why he'd never walk under the sun again. They were gonna keep that no named man locked away in the deepest parts of their holdin' cells. His men didn't like that idea much."

The scorpion chases the target down until they come to a ledge. Something that would be so easy for you to just step over, something that would barely be an obstacle in your way. But for the tiny bug that was fleeing for its life, it was the end of the road. It wasn't dexterous enough to try and make it over the little ledge, the path to freedom taunting it as it falls on its back.

"Don't really know what they were thinkin' or how they came to the conclusion. But they decided in the dead of night they'd...burn down the town? Came in on horseback makin' all types of racket. I remember Ma pushing my brother in my hands an' tellin' me to run out to where we kept the stagecoach. Somethin'-" He chokes and clears his throat to collect himself. "Somethin' about the horses already hitched and ready. To just jump on and wait for her and Pa."

The scorpion closes in on the bug. His stinger blocking the view of the sun, casting the shadow of death over the poor thing.

"I protested, wanted to stay and help her pack bags. Carry somethin' other than my cryin' brother." His hands clutch the sarape around his body, right where his heart would be. "She told me not to argue with her and to get my ass outside. Never heard her curse before..."

The bug kicks its little legs, trying to roll off its back. It squirms, fights, and rocks trying to do anything. Anything but die.

"I did what she told me. Go where she told me. You don't question your mama when she tells you to do somethin' ya know?" He licks his lips, and you wonder if they're as dry as yours are right now. "I put my brother and I in the carriage and I wait for 'em. Then...the house just...erupts. One of those sons of bitches threw somethin' against the side of the house and it catches a blaze."

Kyle closes his eyes, a bead of sweat drips down his face. Like he can still feel the roaring flames against his face. The poor man is standing there reliving it all.

The scorpion finally brings its stinger down. Strikes the pathetic creature in the stomach one good time. The venom does its job, you're sure if the little thing could scream out it would. Instead, it just goes slack, goes limp and dies.

"I... I didn't know what to do. I had just learned to drive the damn thing, so I grabbed the reigns and snapped it. If it wasn't for my brother, I probably would've run into that blazing hell. Probably be a dead man too."

"Probably." Your voice finally pipes up. Kyle looks up at you and you're not giving him the look of pity others have when he tells this tale. Your face is softened sure but there's nothing in those eyes that tell him you're looking down at him.

"That's the last time I saw 'em. Last time I said good night...I only wished I woulda got to say I love you."

The scorpion closes in on its meal. Now that it's not trying to run it figures it can eat in peace. Pinchers at the ready to pick the corpse up.

"I didn't. Spent a lotta time wishin', and a lotta time gettin' good with a gun. Pa taught me there were other ways to take a man down, not everythin' had to be solved with violence. We could do it humane like instead of usin' a gun. Just a shame I turned out to be a damn good shot."

Kyle starts walking again, and as he does, he walks over the scorpion. Crushing the creature under his heel without a second thought. You watch as when he moves his heel the thing lays there with the sand already started to claim it's body. You wonder if it got to at least get a bite of what it worked so hard for.

"So that's how you started bounty hunting?"

"Yep. Started with the assholes that took my parents from me and my brother. Guess they're the only people I never brought in alive."

"Really?!" That was a part of the man you didn't learn from rumors.

"I'm flattered you seem to think I had the ability to bring in fifteen men all by my lonesome, but no. I gave 'em the same treatment they gave my parents." Most men would be proud of that, say it with their chests out. Kyle doesn't, he keeps his eyes on the road and his head down.

"You burned them?"

"Set their whole lil' hideout on fire. Got a bottle of whiskey, drank some of it for courage and then tucked a cloth in the rest of it. Lit the sucker on fire and tossed it."

You try not to imagine the sounds that fifteen men on fire would make, or the fact that not even one of them got away. Kyle was a lucky man that there weren't a few to make it out of that fire that night. Who knows what would have happened if he was caught or worse, they lived to enact revenge like Kyle had.

"Took my brother to an old friend’s ranch and we stayed there for a while. You ever hear of the Marsh family?"

"Sure. They're famous ranchers, good at breakin' in horses and growin' crops."

"Their son is my best friend. I call that man my brother. Call him that until I take my final breath." A smile finally comes back to his face, talking about someone that means so much to him seems to put him at ease.

"Why'd ya leave?" You ask, letting a smile come across your face at the sight of his.

"Didn't feel right just sittin' around. Plus, if word got out that I was stayin' in one place I figured it'd just bring trouble. My brother didn't do nothin' so I asked if I could leave him there. Been out on the road ever since, I send him letters from time to time but it ain't easy gettin' 'em out to me so I just assume he's alright."

"You should visit your brother...I'm sure he misses you." You tell him. It almost breaks your heart the way his smile doesn't reach his eyes.

"With the reputation I built up, I'd only be bringin' danger to his doorstep. I couldn't do that to him or Stan." That must be his friend he mentioned, you note. "I take what I earn from bounty hunting and send it their way. Just because I chose to throw away the life our Pa had set out for me, doesn't mean he's gotta. Every nickel and dime I get goes to keepin' me goin' and buildin' a better life for him."

Your heart swells, swells with admiration and pain. It hurts to see a man who so clearly loves his family have to keep himself away from what little he has left of it. Who has to distance himself from the two people he'd call brother. Neither really blood related to him but they might as well be. You can't help but admire him, how he tries to carry all that responsibility on his back. You thought the tired look in his eye was just from staying up all night and riding into the morning.

"Kyle, that's incredibly brave of you. Putting yourself out there for your brother, if it means anything...I don't think you're throwing your life away." You find that courage you somehow mustered up last night and put your hand over his, the one that still has the reigns. He looks up at you, watching as the sun sits behind your head like a halo. You bend down a bit and get closer to him, whispering as if someone was listening in. "I think what you're doing is the most noble thing I've ever heard. You're the kind of man they talk about in story books...if I didn't believe in you before I do now. Thank you."

"For....for what?" He asks and swallows, his adams apple bobs. For the first time in a long time, he can't seem to find his voice, it drops to a low whisper.

But could anyone blame him? The way you look at him so gently, every little blink of your eyelashes has him sinking deeper and deeper into the color of your eyes. That golden sun behind you makes you look like an angel, and maybe you are one. As far as Kyle is concerned only an angel could look at him like that. Find a way to admire him and sing his praise after being told he set fifteen men to hell in a blaze of hate.

"For being you. I used to not think there were good men out there, but you're changing that." You say it like it's the simplest thing on earth. Like he should have just known the answer to that.

But when you say it, it's like being punched in the chest. You have your hands so tightly wrapped around his heart he's sure if you say anything else he's going to keel over. He lets himself have this moment, lets a breath escape his chest and holds onto each little word you said.

"Ma'am, you ain't got a clue as to what you're sayin'. You don't know me well enough to be passin' judgement like that."

"Hm. Good thing I'm a real good judge of character. A man as bad as you claim to be would've robbed me blind especially if he knew for a fact, I was carrying enough money on me to buy your friends ranch."

His eyes widen at that, he stares at you as if you just told him the sky was red and the rapture was coming. Kyle's respone catches in his throat, unable to say anything at that. You can't help but laugh at that, the sweet sound coming from your lips makes his knees weak.

You toss him the stained white bag of cash, the once pure white cloth now soiled by the desert sands. Dirt clings to it but that doesn't stop him from catching it and opening it up. True to your word, there was so much cash in here Kyle could probably beat a man to death with it.

"You walked into that damn saloon with this?!" Kyle yelled quickly, closing the bag.

"I risked a lot on trying to find you." You say with a little shrug. "Sold everything I owned, took what I could carry and set out to hire you."

"You're either crazy or desperate. Please, for the love of God don't take offense to this."

You laugh again and shake your head; you couldn't argue with him. He was right. Maybe you were both, but it was either this or get unlucky one day and go missing. You'd take your chances with the handsome man next to you. At least he wasn't a stranger much anymore.

"I just got tired of the life I was living. Heard there was good opportunity out West. Figured I could settle in Texas or...Colorado?"

"Colorado?! Ma'am if this is some elaborate plot to give me a heart attack just to take me out, you're doin' a damn fine job." He clutches the bag into his chest and takes a deep breath. Quickly he stuffs the bag into the saddle bag on his horse. She stirs a little and shakes her head letting him know that her patience is running thin.

"So, you're suggesting Texas?"

"It's better than fuckin' God damn Colorado!" The way Kyle's cursing picks up when he's stressed is kind of adorable.

Laughter echoes down the road all the way out of the state. You finally find yourself off the East coast for the first time in your life. The company you keep makes it all the better! Eventually you stop at the nearest town and purchase your own horse. You have to slow down a little because Kyle has to all but teach you how to mount her and how to keep her from freaking out. He's calm and patient with you the entire time, only laughing at you a few times when you forget to buckle the saddle completely and almost slide right off. He teaches you how to take care of her and you end up spending most nights swapping stories by campfires.

You're somewhere deep in the state of Missouri, where exactly you're not sure that's Kyle's job. The night sky hangs above your heads with the stars staring down at you. Each little twinkle makes you think they're winking down at you. Kyle's told you that a few of the stars have names and stories behind them, you let him ramble on about it for hours before informing him that you already knew all that. The look on his face alone was enough to make you laugh.

You must have laughed again because Kyle's looking up from the worn-out map up at you now. He has a lazy smirk, the corners of his lips hidden behind the scruff on his face that's starting to grow in. His hair just now starting to go back to when you first met him, he's shaved it off a few times since your journey much to your dismay. You complained for days when he first did it only to be met with an eye roll.

That was something you always noted, that whenever you would complement Kyle's appearance, he'd brush you off or find a way to deflect. Telling you that you were the pretty one or that you were just seeing things because you weren't drinking enough water. The heat was getting to you, and you needed to take some time by the shade.

But he really was a handsome man, the rugged look didn't really line up with his personality but damn if it didn't do something to you. Being next to the man for so long, having made the first real connection with another person for the first time in your life. Well, it was getting harder and harder not to see him in a different light.

Especially since every moment leading up to this point, Kyle would do everything in his power to protect you. Putting himself in harm’s way time and time again just to make sure you'd be safe. Bandits thinking the both of you were easy picking, Kyle's reputation didn't reach every corner of the country. And the few times it did, it only encouraged people like Knucklehead to try and take a shot at bringing him down. There were a few times people recognized you. Someone had put out missing wanted posters with your face plastered all over them.

Of course, when danger came rearing its ugly head, Kyle would be there by your side. At first it was a lot of him taking shots for you, you patching him up. Using those studies your parents provided, removing bullets, and cleaning the wound left behind wasn't exactly what you had studied but eventually you got the hang of it. Each time you'd scold him to be more careful, he'd argue that catching bullets with his body wasn't something he liked doing. And each time just as you'd finish bandaging him back up, he'd give you a look that had your heart fluttering. His eyelids would lower down, and his lips would part in just a way that made them look so kissable. But every time you'd think you got the courage to just do it, he'd pull away and wish you a good night. Disappearing in his tent as if he wasn't just staring at you thinking the same thing.

Little did you know he was thinking the same thing. Countless nights he'd stay awake at night, tossing and turning in his bedroll trying to get the image of you so close out of his head. It had been a long time since Kyle felt this close with anyone, much less got to share the road with another person. Those little moments where you'd brush your fingers over his exposed skin or when you'd wake up nice and early to make sure he got something in his stomach before riding off. It made it harder and harder to want to not make you, his woman. To not take you up in his arms and take you into his tent for the night.

But that's not why you hired him. Once he got you to Colorado, he'd drop you off, probably stick around long enough to make sure you were settled, and then be on his way. Leaving you in that state all by yourself and he'd return to wherever the road took him. That thought filled him with an indescribable loneliness, one he tried to keep out of his head. He tried to focus on how good he felt just being near you, savoring the moments he got with you now.

Like how pretty you looked when you sat next to the fire, back against a log that he dragged over to make it a little more comfortable. A book resting in your lap and a page between your fingers, some novel you both picked up and swapped back and forth. How every time you looked over at him thinking you could steal a few glances without him noticing, only to be caught in the act. Ever since he met you back at the bar you would avert your eyes from him and try to find something else to look at or pretend that you were looking past him. He found it so cute.

"Somethin' funny darlin'?" You don't know when he started calling you that, can't recall but every single time it makes your heart leap.

"Just thinking about that time, you were telling me about the stars. How I'm gonna miss this..."  You say with a little shrug and smile, reaching down next to you to grab the bottle of wine.

"You'll still be able to see 'em in Colorado. In fact, I hear they're mighty pretty over the desert." He says watching you take a drink from the bottle.

"It's not the same." You wipe your mouth with the sleeve of your blouse, the red liquid staining the shirt. "It's not the same if you don't have someone to share it with."

It's Kyle's turn to blush a little, he gives you a little hum and a nod like he understands. There's a moment where he thinks his heart stops, but it thumps against his chest, and he finds it in him to speak up. "You always know just what to say to make a man flustered huh?"

"Since when have I talked to other men like this?" You ask scooting a little closer to him, that night wind pushing you a little closer to his warmth.

"I don't quite recall..." He mumbles meeting you halfway.

Kyle helps close the gap between the both of you until your thighs are touching. The material of his jeans brush against your legs, exposed because of the skirt clips holding your skirt to where they just cover your thighs.

"Think it would work on another man?" Your voice drops to a whisper.

His brows furrow at that and his face twists into a scowl. You watch the way his eyes narrow and darken a little. He huffs and you can smell the scent of coffee on his breath. Kyle doesn't say anything, instead he goes for the wine bottle in your hand. The man takes a swig of it, trying to hide the jealous feeling that's starting to creep up on him.

"Reckon it would... if you had the backbone to be talkin' to other men."

"What's that supposed to mean?" It's your turn to furrow your brows at him, they knit together.

"Just sayin' you ain't exactly a smooth talker with everyone you come across. I seem to remember a certain run in with that snake oil salesman that was tryin' to get you to agree to go on a lil' date with him." He taps the bottle against his lips a few times before taking another drink.

You take the bottle from him, crawling over his lap to reach the darn thing. You press your palm into his thigh and suddenly he's very aware of just how close you are to him. Kyle isn't sure if you're doing on purpose but either way it makes his dick twitch against the fabric of his pants.

He doesn't give you time to protest as he moves the bottle out of reach, holding it back just as you brush your fingertips against the cool glass. "No, I think I remember you fumblin' over your words and I had to come over and tell the fella you weren't interested."

Damn him. Damn that handsome red head for calling you out and looking so cocky while doing it. His smirk returns as he cocks his head down at you, the way his lips glisten against the campfire almost has you distracted. Almost.

But you wanted your wine, so you take another lunge for it. Pressing your body into him to try and climb over and snatch it back. His hand comes down to your waist, keeping you in place.

"Ah! No ma'am, I think someone's had enough. All that talk about flirtin' with other men ain't much like you. Think this is messin' with your head." He tuts and shifts you in his lap. He's hoping you don't feel the effect you're having on him.

"You know what I think Broflovski? I think you're jealous!" You challenge crossing your arms under your chest.

"That so? That what you think darlin'?"

"Why else would you be acting like this? You're acting like a damn child! Now give me my bottle, I'm a grown woman I can drink as much as I wanna!"

He laughs at that. Laughs right at your protests and the way you're pouting in his lap. It makes your face burn up, it makes you wanna hit him, makes you wanna kiss him until he shuts up.

"You're real cute when you get fussy you know that?" Kyle lets the compliment slip out of his mouth before he has time to think about it.

He knows better. He knows he shouldn't be flirting with you, shouldn't get attached. But that ship has long since sailed, he's been infatuated with you since the day you told him he was a good man. But fuck if it isn't getting harder and harder, especially with you sitting so pretty on his lap.

"Kyle Broflovski! If you don't start acting right!" You know the blush on your face doesn't help, the scolding falls on deaf ears.

"I ain't the one crawlin' into a man's lap for a bottle of cheap wine." He sets the bottle down beside him off into the dark where it no longer matters. That hand finds home on your waist, rolling his thumbs over the material of your skirt.

You suck in a breath and sit up on your knees, pushing them to rest on either side of him. "You're not just another man...that what you want me to tell you?"

"Can't say I wouldn't like it." Kyle's voice dips low, gravely and makes a shiver zip down your spine.

"If you don't want me flirting with other men..., why are you waiting so long to kiss me?"

"Oh darlin'," He growls and squeezes the back of your thighs, rough hands sliding up your skirt. "I want nothin' more but...you and I both know I can't."

"No, I don't think I do. Enlighten me." You're not letting him get away this time, there would be no running off to his tent to avoid this. You had him wrapped around your little finger, even if your heart felt like it was about to explode.

" 'Cause if I start kissin' you. I'm gonna keep doin' it..." He gets closer, sitting up to his full height just to graze his lips over yours. "Keep kissin' ya 'til I ain't go breath in my lungs left. Then I'll wanna take you in my arms jus' like this." He gives you a little squeeze pressing his chest further against yours. "I wouldn't be able to stop myself from makin' those sweet lil' noises come out of your mouth. Wouldn't wanna stop either."

Your breath hitches and you let out a soft little moan. You card your fingers through his hair, his hat was put away somewhere in his tent, so it left those gorgeous red curls unguarded. He groans and inadvertently bucks his hips up into you, the rough feeling of his jeans grinding up against your underwear.

"Fuck and if you ain't makin' it difficult. Talkin' like that makes me think you planned to get me all worked up. You ain't stupid, just about the smartest woman I've ever met in my life." He continues grinding his hips into you, rolling you over his growing erection. Kyle groans and doesn't even bother trying to stop the sounds coming out of his mouth.

"K-Kyle just kiss me already!" You whimper in his lap.

And he snaps, whatever wall he built up to resist you comes tumbling down. Just the way you say his name has him tossing all logic out the window. He grabs the back of your neck and pulls your face down towards him, crashing your lips onto his. His teeth almost knock into yours from how desperately he needs this, how much he needs you. It's like being able to stretch your legs after riding for days, or a cool drink of water after being under that blazing sun for too long.

That crackling fire that keeps your little camp sight illuminated doesn't give off nearly the amount of heat Kyle's kiss does. His chapped lips move against yours, somehow despite being on the road for so long they're still so soft. It takes a second for your brain to register that he's finally kissing you, after so long he's finally doing it. Before he can pull back, you press back into the kiss. Hands coming down from his hair to cup his jaw like it'll anchor you from floating away.

He kisses you again and again, each kiss turning more passionate. He goes from a desperate kiss to kissing you like a starved man. His tongue slips out and swipes against your bottom lip, when you don't open your mouth, he growls and pulls you down, so you're now firmly sat in his lap. The action makes you gasp, and he slips his tongue into your mouth, more than excited to explore the inside of your mouth until he finds your tongue. You poke back nervously and chase after the pink muscle. Finally, your tongues twine together, wrapped up in some kind of dance.

He kisses you until your lungs burn, desperate for air. In this silent little battle to see who would break first, it's you. You pull away from him and take in a large gasp. The lack of air and how heated the kiss was makes your head spin. Just as you collect yourself, he's on his feet lifting you up with him. You cling to him and wrap your arms around his neck, even though you know he won't drop you the shock of being moved so quickly like that caught you off guard.

"W-where are we going?"

" 'm takin' you to bed." He walks you over to the tent he's got pitched up, moving to your tent. Kyle bends down and gently lays you down on the bedroll. He sucks in a breath when he sees the way your hair's all laid out and how you've got your thighs pressed together. Lips wet and slightly puffy from the way he kissed you. "Now if you ain't the prettiest thing I've ever seen. Take your blouse off for me."

Kyle looks down at you with darkened eyes, heavy eyes filled with lust. He watches every single little movement you make. They watch as you slip the buttons of your blouse through the little slots holding them together. Watch as you slip the shirt down your arms painfully slow, far too slow for his liking. But ever the gentleman he simply hooks his thumbs in his belt and watches, rewarding you with a low hum.

"That's my girl." His praise all but makes you purr; you like the way he calls you his. "Jus' a lil' more for me. Take that skirt off." His hand slips up your skirt and taps the side of your thigh.

You do it, work the skirt clips off along with the skirt itself until you're left in nothing but your underwear. He tosses them to the side letting them land in your pile of bags. He tugs off his sarape and works his belt, the clinking of his buckle rings out. The only other sound besides your heavy breathing is the bubbling brook next to your camp sight. Occasionally, you can hear the horses stir, but right now all you can focus on is the way Kyle strips down to nothing.

Kyle lays his gun down carefully on top of his clothes before joining you under the furs used to keep you warm. His cock nudges against your thigh, twitching against how soft it feels. You let out a shaky sigh and peer down at it, the angry red tip brushes against your skin.

"I-is that going to fit?" You ask him suddenly a bit worried, but it melts away when he takes your jaw and kisses you again.

"Darlin' we can stop at any moment. But if you'll have me, I'll make you feel real good." His hand snakes down between you two and his fingers go to spread you open.

You let out a little moan and whisper a soft, 'yes' and it's all he needs to continue. His middle finger rolls your bud gently at first until you start to squirm and push against his hand for more. He applies enough pressure to the circular motion that has you seeing stars. He continues rubbing circles on your clit and your hips buck up against his hold. It felt so good.

You moan out in pleasure when he slides two fingers into your hole with ease, your arousal making it so easy for him. He pumps his fingers in you once or twice, pushing into that spot that has your back arching off the bedroll. Kyle keeps his fingers buried in you for a moment, spreading them out and curling them in a come-hither motion. His lips find their way down on your neck, leaving faint love bites. Sucking on the exposed skin with enough force to pull a loud moan out of you.

"Kyle..." A low breathless whimper escapes your lips as he comes off your neck with a pop. "Please, please."

"Sound so pretty when you moan my name like that. Shoulda done this sooner." He works his fingers in you again, thrusting them up into you over and over again. "Fuck you're so fuckin' wet."

You're moaning so loudly you're sure if you weren't alone on the side of the road you would have woken a whole neighborhood. When you try to muffle those moans, he stops moving his fingers leaving you just teetering on the edge. The knot in your stomach starts to tighten, he can feel the way your pussy flutters around his fingers.

"That's it sweetheart, let go for me. Look at me when you cum." He holds your jaw with his free hand making you look up at him.

Your eyes widen and as you finally clench around his fingers giving you that orgasm you desperately begged for. His fingers keep pumping in and out of you until you're whining, and tears are beginning to spill from your eyes.

"Shh, I know, but I gotta make sure you're nice and prepped for me darlin' don't wanna hurt ya too bad." Kyle whispers in your ear until he pulls his fingers out of you finally. You whine at the loss of contact, suddenly feeling so empty. You watch him bring his fingers up to his lips and swirl his tongue around the digit. "Think you're ready for me baby?"

"Kyle, please. I want this, I want you!" You whimper.

"That's a good girl. Roll over on your stomach for me." He leans back up and gestures for you to do as he says.

So, you do, you roll over on your stomach and just as you do, he tucks a pillow under your stomach. His hands glide up and down your legs until they find purchase on your hips. They tighten and squeeze around your waist pulling you back against his cock. Kyle glides you back against his member, grinding your wet pussy up and down his shaft. He lets out a soft moan and lets his head lull to the side.

"Oh," He says quietly as the tip of his cock nudges against your folds, "thaaaaaat's it." Kyle slips every inch of his cock into you slowly, dragging your velvet walls back against him. He pushes and sinks deeper into you until he bottoms out.

"O-Oh god." You bury your face in the bedroll. "Fuck feels so good."

"You have no fuckin' idea..." He grips your hips and begins slowly thrusting in and out of you, "how many times I've thought about fuckin' you senseless. How bad I just wanted to make you fuckin' mine!" His voice comes out in a breathless moan over your desperate cries.

" 'm yours!" You're a mess at this point and he hasn't done much but finger you and start a lazy pace. Each time he drags his cock out he pulls all the way out leaving you empty again. Only to push it right back in at that antagonizing slow pace, like he's trying to get you to remember every little vein on his cock. "Please just go harder, I can take I-I promise!"

"Yeah? Want me to really fuck you baby? I was gonna take my time with ya, show you just how badly I wanted ya." Kyle bucks into you with a sharp thrust making you bounce forward, "but listen to yourself, beggin' for my cock. Beggin' me to go faster. Do it again."

You bite your lip and squeeze your eyes shut; the first time was easy you weren't really thinking about it. Now that he's making demands of you it makes you feel flustered. That embarrassing feeling of having him looking down at your wrecked form washes over you. When his fingers card through your hair and grip the base of your roots, you let out a shocked gasp.

"Darlin' I believe I asked you to do somethin'. I ain't exactly a patient man right now. Not from the way you're squeezin' me soooo tight." He nudges your insides with a lazy little thrust. All it does is make you moan and claw at the bedroll.

"Please Kyle! Please, please, please" You're reduced to nothing but moans and whines. Begging him to do something, anything!

He seems satisfied with that from the way he pulls you back against his chest. Pulling your head out from the bedroll and letting your moans ring out into the night. With a quick slap against your ass, he begins to pick up the pace. The length of his cock claiming you and pounding into you. Your heart rate spikes as he pushes into you deeper than his fingers could reach. He hits that spot in your pussy that his fingers hit earlier, the one that has you seeing stars and drooling. Kyle lets out a moan when your cunt tightens around him again, one that lets you know just how good you make him feel.

"So fuckin' tight. You take me so fuckin' good baby, like you were made for me. Made to take this cock. Fuck gotta feel you cum around my cock this time. That's it, that's it." Kyle grunts and takes his hand out of your hair. Snaking it around your form he grinds his fingers against your clit again.

Your eyes roll up to the back of your head from everything. The way his cock bullies your insides, how his fingers assault the already sensitive bundle of nerves, and the way he spouts filth in your ear. The praise makes you feel so good, puts you in a head space you've never been in before. The only thing you can think about is what he tells you to. Right now, he wants you to cum around his cock, so you do. You don't even register it until it happens. Until his hips begin to lose that rhythm and he stops pulling out as much.

But when your walls clamp down around him like they had done his fingers, milking him for everything he's worth, he lets out a low moan. He calls your name, not a pet name or the fake name that you've been accustomed to. Your name.

"That's it baby. Fuck I love you, fuck I love you." There isn't so much as a second thought as he just repeats how much he loves you. After one final hard thrust he's spilling into you, filling you with his hot cum. He empties until it's dripping down your thighs, creating a white ring around the base of his cock.

Both of your bodies were wet with sweat from being pressed together. What little strength he has keeps him from collapsing on top of you. His chest pressed against your back, your hearts beating in unison. Eventually Kyle sits back up and slips his cock out of you, carefully lowering you down onto your bedroll again.

You look up at him with an exhausted smile, absent mindedly pushing stray curls out of his face. He looks down at you and smiles in return, he takes your hand and kisses the inside of your palm. That afterglow of sex that clings to you and the way you look disheveled has to be his new favorite sight. You guide him down towards your chest and let him rest his head against your heartbeat. He closes his eyes and holds you close.

"I love you too." You say after a while, not sure if he's asleep or not from the way he hasn't stirred.

"Be mighty awkward if ya didn't." Kyle murmurs in between your chest, placing a gentle kiss onto your collarbone.

"Took you long enough to confess." You joke.

"Yeah...don't know what I was thinkin'. Guess I just didn't wanna put them feelin's out there if you weren't inclined to stick around. You got dreams of settlin' down somewhere quiet..."

"Nothing says you can't be there with me when I do."

"I don't know if I could ever go back to a quiet life like that...I don't think I deserve somethin' like that."

"Oh hush." You cup his face and bring it up to yours. "Don't ever wanna hear you talk like that again Broflovski. You're a good man, I told you that before. I don't love bad men."

"You ain't ever been wrong before."

"Wasn't wrong when I went out to find you all of them months ago. I ain't about to start."

"Ain't?"

"Huh?"

"You said ain't. Never heard you talk like that before, usually you talk all proper like. I think you're pickin' up my accent."

"Go back to laying your head down!" You huff and shove his face back down into your chest which only makes him chuckle.

"If I get to wake up to somethin' like this every day.... I reckon I can see myself settlin' down. Maybe we can get a little farm, start our own little ranch."

"I like that...we can send a letter to your brother, and he can join us."

Kyle smiles warmly at that. You remembered his brother, that conversation on the road that started all this. He closes his eyes and begins to picture it all. You and him tucked away in some area in Colorado with his brother who he hasn't seen in years. Maybe down the road you could change your last name to his. His hand finds yours and he rubs his thumb over your ring finger. Imagining a little metal ring, one that matches his.

The road’s starting to look a lot less lonely.

<- Previous Chapter

[merlin-reboot-when]

So I decided to get back into bbc Merlin. I have been thoroughly obsessed with that show several times over the past 6? 7 years? But somehow, I never really wrote for that fandom beyond short headcanons.

Haven't come very far with this new wip yet either, but I always thought that in season 4 one of the knights (other than Lancelot, RIP) should've discovered Merlin's magic and maybe that Gaius had fulfilled his purpose and should've... died? Sorry Gaius. Anyway, here are the first ~400 words of my 4x07 (the secret sharer) AU.

There was a fire in the courtyard. Not a pyre, not today, but one could still smell death in the air. It was a funeral fire. Dozens, maybe hundreds of people were present, all gathered on the wet cobblestone to pay their respects and honour the man they’d all known. Arthur could feel Merlin quietly standing behind him on the palace steps as he delivered his speech. Usually writing that speech should’ve been Merlin’s task, but under the given circumstances Arthur had for once opted to write it himself. As he spoke he tried to keep his voice calm and even, but even he could hear the slight tremor in his voice. For the first and only time since Merlin had come into his service, the servant’s quiet presence did nothing to soothe Arthur’s nerves. Quite the opposite, really. The guilt over what had transpired was eating him alive. He had even gone so far as to avoid Merlin alltogether since his return to Camelot yesterday. Not entirely on purpose, he had actually been pretty busy with planning the funeral, listening to Agravaine and Gwaine’s narrations of what had happened and grieving himself – all on top of his usual duties. After the speech was done the crowd slowly dispersed, the cold and terrible weather driving them back to their homes, but Arthur and many of the knights remained there by the fire for a long time until even the last of the flames had died down. Eventually he turned around to face Merlin. He couldn’t avoid him forever, the man was his employee and, Arthur had to admit, his friend. Surprisingly, his usually rather emotional manservant didn’t look like he had shed a single tear. Instead he just stared straight ahead to the ashes, stone-faced and silent. Arthur sighed and opened his mouth. He wasn’t even sure what he was going to say. “I’m sorry” didn’t seem like enough. “Are you alright?” was probably the most stupid thing he could possibly ask right now. Maybe a pat on the shoulder and a sympathetic look would be more appropriate? Arthur had never done well getting his feelings across with words anyway. But before he could decide on a course of action, Merlin beat him to it. His gaze was still empty and his voice carried absolutely no emotion. “You’re going to need a new Court Physician”, was all he said and without even looking at Arthur he walked away.

[underfaller]

I grow maddened. 

Rating: T Bill Cipher/ Ford Pines Word Count: 1.5k

I grow maddened. 

Stanford races away from the town until the cobblestone path turns into thick snow. The words circle around his skull, over and over-- a broken record that plays into his increasing insanity. As he stumbles through the woods, his vision lurches; Ford swears that all the dark trees have familiar, yellow eyes, watching every step he makes. 

Watching. Waiting. Ready to devour him right then and there. 

The townspeople all have Bill's eyes. They’re all watching me. I can’t trust them. 

In Gravity Falls, you can trust no one. That isn't a problem-- Stanford Filbrick Pines has no one. 

He barges into his cabin, fumbling with the door’s (multiple) locks before sinking to the floor, back against the hardwood. Ford clutches his right eye. It’s agonizing. Thick blood drips from the organ, sliding down his fingers as he sits, half panting, half sobbing, and fully delirious. 

My muse was a monster. I was a puppet.

Ford stands up, storming through his empty home, still clutching his wounded eye. Blind. I was so blind! How could I have been so stupid? He’s hurt. Betrayed. And furious at himself. 

Ford tears off at the golden tapestries that adorn every corner of the cabin. He shatters every crystal prism until his boots crunch against glass that litters the floor like iridescent snow. Still, he cannot shake his delirium. 

‘Sixer, it’ll eat you alive.’

He’s exhausted, yet he can’t sleep. When Ford even closes his eyes a bit longer than usual, his vision dances with triangles and he snaps them open in a panic. No, he can’t possibly sleep knowing who he’ll see in his dreams.  

But Ford doesn’t know how much longer he can stay awake. He’s growing desperate. He wonders if this is all worth it.

I grow maddened.  

Stanford’s never considered suicide but in his misery and fatigue, the blissful peace of eternal sleep is tempting.Even rabid animals gain the respite of death, surely, Ford reckons, he deserves that much. 

Or do my failures make me less than an animal? 

Ford wonders if he should leave a note. It would certainly be in character-- Stanford always needed to have the last word.

But who would even read it?

Not F. His former partner is probably already in  Palo Alto, enjoying his doting family without even a sliver of thought about Ford or their former dreams. 

Not his brother. How long has it even been? It must have been over ten years since Ford saw him. He envisions his twin’s face-- identical to his own despite their opposite personalities and paths in life. 

Was I too harsh on him all those years ago? 

Would he even care?

Perhaps, his old muse and his current tormentor. Though, Stanford’s suicide note would be more of a white flag than a triumphant last statement. Bill would certainly be amused by his former devotee’s fate. 

Stanford Filbrick Pines has no one. 

Ford makes his way up to the attic.

Perhaps this is the most logical course of action. 

He plans every step in his life yet the one to end it is one done most spontaneously. 

If I do this one thing by myself, will it finally be of my own accord--my own freedom? Or am I still being pulled by his strings?

Ford is in no mental state to pursue such theoreticals now. 

After some fenangling, he undoes his tie and stands atop a rickety chair begging to be kicked over. A red noose hangs over his head, its shadow looming over Stanford like Death. 

Watching. Waiting. Ready to devour him right then and there. 

Stanford looks down. On the floor is a pair of knitted gloves. He made sure to take them off before tying his noose. He closes his eyes. 

He doesn’t see Bill. Instead he sees Fiddleford. Then Stanley. 

They make him hesitate. 

“Ha… hahaha!” 

Stanford’s stomach lurches as his vision doubles. A wave of nausea washes over him before all he can feel is pain and panic and as he grapples for something-- anything-- he only falls further into blackness. 

When Stanford opens his eyes once more, he’s met by his muse. He hovers in front of him with a smug grin. 

“Hiya, Stanford! Watcha doin’?” 

He’s paralyzed in mid air but can still muster words filled with malice. 

“Get out of my head.” 

“Why? So you can continue trying to kill yourself? You’re so dramatic, Fordsy!” 

Bill lets out a shrill laugh; it makes Stanford’s ears ring. 

“I said get out of my head!” Ford shouts. 

Bill stops laughing. There’s a short silence. It feels like an eternity in this pitch darkness. Bill shrugs, raising an eyebrow. 

“Fine, if you want to die so badly, let me help!” 

“Wait-” 

Ford’s body suddenly goes limp, his mind goes slack. Fear overcomes him. 

“Have you forgotten? You’re my puppet.” Bill stumbles around in Ford’s body, giggling. He watches in horror as Bill puppeteers his body off the chair, towards the window. He throws it open, exposing himself to the freezing, winter temperatures. 

“I can do whatever I please with this meat puppet and you, well, you’re just here for the ride! So relax, Sixer, and enjoy the show!”

Even from his mental prison, Ford feels the biting January snow against his skin. 

“Let go of me, Bill! Our deal is off! Get out of my body! Get out of my-” 

“Mind? You first, IQ!” Bill taunts. “Do you think I’d let you go so easily? No, no. Silly Stanford, you’re mine. From now until eternity!” 

Bill takes in a deep breath and exhales, clouds forming from his hot breath. He looks down. 

It's a long way down. 

“Now this is the way to go! Not with some half baked noose made out of your own tie. No, no, my Sixer deserves a spectacular death! Haha!” 

Ford watches in horror as his body teeters over the snowy ledge. He tries to fight the darkness but he’s paralyzed, at the mercy of Bill’s control. 

“What was it again? Ad astra per aspera?” Bill shouts into the icy wind. He cackles maniacally. “Well you better start flapping, Icarus!” 

Ford tries to summon even an ounce of willpower to stop Bill’s possession of his body. He’d never beg aloud for anything. He’d never grovel to Bill Cipher for his meager life. 

But Bill hears all of his thoughts. 

Stop Bill. Please stop. 

Bill laughs aloud.  “Aww…Scared to die? Don’t get cold feet now!” 

Ford’s suffocating. His mind is swimming. His vision swarms. He can’t breathe. 

He needs control but he’s not in control. He never was. 

I am going to die. I’m going to really die here. 

He’s being buried alive in this void. Still, he chokes, 

“Why? I thought you still needed me to turn the portal on?” 

His muse shushes him with a hand wave.

“Can’t a demon help his old partner out? Call it an act of divine benevolence.” 

Bill’s simpering voice makes Ford shiver. He tries to protest further, but he can’t speak. He thinks of Fiddleford. 

He thinks of Stanley. 

He thinks of Shermie. 

He thinks of his mother. 

I am really never going to see them again. 

I still- 

Bill snaps his fingers and everything goes dark for Ford. As he prepares to throw Ford’s helpless body off the window’s ledge, he suddenly stops. Silence. The wind howls. Bill slowly steps back. 

“Ya know Sixer, I could completely wipe your memory with a snap of my fingers. Make you this petty revenge. You could be my little human pet for all of eternity! Wouldn’t that be much better than whatever this is?” 

He examines Stanford’s body in a mirror. Yellow eyes glint back at Bill. This is the optimal Ford. Too bad his little pet didn’t see eye to eye anymore. 

“But it wouldn't be that much fun, would it? At least for me. It’s not the same when I force you to worship me.” 

Ford is still incapacitated but Bill continues. Bill furrows his brow. He sighs. 

“You were such a devout worshiper. You’re actually adorable! Not to mention, very useful-- and a freak of nature to boot! We were the perfect duo! Though I suppose that’s come to an end…” 

Bill laughs bitterly. 

“If you were any of my other henchmen. Oho--you'd be a splatter on the wall right now! It’s ridiculous how difficult it is for me to actually kill you.”

L kdyh ixoo frqwuro ryhu brx, bhw, vrphwlphv, L ihho olnh brx’uh wkh rqh zlwk wkh vwulqjv.

Bill looks at the open window one last time before his smirk returns. 

“You'll come around in time, ” He says. “Eventually. For now, keep futilely struggling. I'll just wait. I have all of time to wait.” 

Bill snaps his fingers again. Ford is once again in his body. The hallucination is over. He looks around wildly. 

“Either way, this party is far from over so don’t go offing yourself yet!” Bill's voice calls. “If you do, I might have to get your twin involved-- and you probably don’t want that.” 

Silence once more. The sun is rising. Ford stands in the middle of the empty room, his heart in his throat.  

As dawn arrives, a soft, golden light shines upon him through a single, triangular window.

[holllandtrash]

bestie what if we write a lance one shot of your first kiss

I need this I’m a lance girly, also it’s not edited

1.8k words I think?

You met Lance through Chloe a few years back and the two of you always got along, always a little flirty, always finding reasons to sneak off during parties or large dinners to go for walks and talk about the thoughts that flooded your minds.

And it was at one of these dinners sometime in august when you did exactly that. You were in Italy, no clue who’s idea it was, but there was a good amount of you there. It probably started as Chloe and Scotty wanting a vacation but then word got out and it turned into a trip with 10 of their closest friends and family.

You sat at the table, the late night breeze was welcomed during the august heat. All of you were dressed in light clothing, acting as though you weren’t sweating and wondering who’s dumb idea it was to go to Italy during a heat wave.

You weren’t complaining, though. You couldn’t. Not when Lance’s linen shirt was unbuttoned about halfway and he kept raising his hand up every few minutes to drag his fingers through his hair. He tugged on his shirt to get some airflow through the material as he caught your eye, mourning ‘it’s too hot’ across the table to you.

You nodded in agreement. You had also tied up your hair. You were blotting your face every few seconds, thank god you chose the no make up look tonight or it would all be melting off by now. Your cheeks were flushed, fanning yourself did little to help and even the dress you wore was suffocating, despite it being lightweight and barely there.

What you needed was a jump in a pool. Or a river. Or a puddle, honestly. At this point, you’d take anything. Even the bucket the wine bottle sat in was tempting and you seriously contemplated getting rid of the wine to pour the ice over your head.

Your eyes followed Lance as he pushed himself away from the table and stood up. He didn’t make a scene, no one else seemed to notice he was walking away, to busy in their own conversations. But of course you noticed, how could you not? You were always drawn to him.

And he knew this, which is why he stood near the gate and looked back at you. His mischievous smile matched the daring glint in his eyes as he nodded his head for you to follow.

Chloe was the only one who turned to you when you stood up, but there was no time to come up with an excuse. She spotted Lance standing by the gate and raised her eyebrows, choosing to say nothing and instead relying on her all-knowing smirk to get the message across.

“Oh save it,” you rolled your eyes, ignoring her little laugh as you walked towards Lance.

He pushed the gate open for you and the two of you walked side by side, your sandals scraping against the cobblestone path.

“I don’t know why we didn’t just eat inside,” Lance admitted, taking a glance at the dinner party fading into the distance. He dragged his fingers through his hair again.

“Oh come on,” you pushed your shoulder against arm, “Haven’t you always wanted to sweat into your food?”

“You’re disgusting,” Lance laughed. He grabbed the hem of his shirt and waved it away from his abdomen, “I’m dying in this, at least you’re not wearing sleeves.”

“No but your shirt is a lot lighter,” you pointed out, not even bothering to think twice before you grabbed hold of his arm, trailing your fingers up the sleeve to confirm that it was, in fact, a lighter material than your dress.

Lance did the same, his hand going to your waist and scrunching his nose up in disappointment when he realised how uncomfortable you were too.

You wished his hand stayed there longer than it had, but both of your arms fell back to your sides and you kept walking.

“The break is nice though, yeah?” You looked up at him, seeing the beads of sweat drip down his temple. It was a similar look to when he climbed out of the car and pulled his helmet off.

“The break is needed,” he corrected. The season had been stressful for him, for the sole reason of Fernando Alonso being his teammate. He couldn’t compare to the 2-time world champion.

You decided not to mention Formula 1 anymore tonight. He needed a break from the topic too.

Instead of letting it dwell on his mind, you lightly grabbed his elbow and pulled him down a different path, one lined with flowers and greenery and lit up by little lights sticking up from the ground.

“You’re going to get us lost,” Lance chuckled, but he wasn’t fighting you to go back either.

“Being lost in Italy doesn’t sound so bad,” you teased with an innocent shrug, taking a few steps ahead of Lance so he had no choice but to keep up with you.

“No, but being lost with you sounds terrible,” he muttered, but the way his lips curled upwards was enough to tell you he wasn’t being serious.

“Please,” you scoffed, turning back around and keeping some distance as Lance trailed behind you. “You’d love to get lost with me.”

When you looked over your shoulder at him, you expected another sarcastic response or maybe even an eye roll.

You didn’t expect him to stop walking and be staring at you, fingers spinning the rings he wore, something he only did when he was nervous or anxious or struggled to find his words.

You noticed it but didn’t call him out on it. You just smiled and nodded your head for him to follow, “I promise I won’t get us too lost.”

Lance snapped out of whatever trance he was in and kept walking, this time keeping with your pace as his clothed arm brushed against your bare one. You pushed some strands of hair out of your face, wincing at how damp with sweat they were.

You felt gross, to put it simply. Sure the dress was nice, but it was disgustingly hot outside and it wasn’t helping your appearance. Usually you at least tried to look good around Lance but tonight was a write-off.

Lance looked at you the same, though. With such adoration and contentment because he was happiest when he was with you. It didn’t matter where or what either of you looked like, Lance would never look away.

There was something lingering between you. Something unsaid and impossible to ignore but always so tempting to act on.

You couldn’t explain why you never did.

But Lance never acted on it either. Both of you didn’t know how to cross that line.

You’d think in Italy, alone, walking down a beautiful path, one of you would finally do something, but the most Lance did was brush his thumb over your wrist. An intentional move, one that had you glancing up at him, but he didn’t try to connect your fingers.

You didn’t want to think about it. You just wanted to enjoy this time you had with Lance because the rest of the trip would be filled with activities and it would be impossible to get another moment alone.

When Lance chuckled softly you looked up again, but you knew instantly what was on his mind.

Tucked away between trees was a small fountain, spurting water out from the top and attracting a few birds. The stone border around it was only a foot off the ground and when Lance caught your eye, it was clear you were both thinking the same thing.

Lance took the lead, sliding his shoes off and wasting no time in stepping into the fountain. He leaned down to dip his hands in as well, humming in pleasure as the cold water hit his skin.

He splashed you right as you were stepping in as well, and that stupid smirk of his told you he would splash you again, which he did.

It wasn’t long until the material of your dress clung to your body and all you could do was try and splash him back in an attempt to ruin his clothing as well.

Lance wasn’t bothered by it, though. He unbuttoned his shirt all the way and practically encouraged you to splash the water in his direction.

“This water is disgusting,” you laughed, turning your head when Lance shook his hands in front of your face.

“Refreshing, you mean.”

“Absolutely disgusting,” you said, but that didn’t stop you from cupping a handful of it and dumping it over top of his head. Lance didn’t argue about it though, probably welcoming the water dampening his head instead of sweat. He shook his hair out as he laughed and a few drops hit your face.

Lance stepped forward, one hand going to waist to try and peel some of the material away from your body but it only fell right back into place against your sink.

He then raised his other hand to wipe away the water that was under your eyes, thumb carefully brushing your cheek as you stared up at him and asked yourself if this was your chance.

It had to be.

When else were you going to find yourself standing ankles-deep in a fountain in Italy with the man you haven’t been able to stop thinking about for years now.

Your lips parted, “Lance-”

Whatever you were going to say was forgotten about when Lance pressed his mouth to yours. His hand on your face held you in place as he took it upon himself to act on what you had both been feeling for months now.

He kissed you and everything else faded away.

Your hand slid around his neck as you tugged your fingers through his hair, holding him as close to you as humanly possible because if this was your one and only moment you’d share with him, you were going to make it last.

It wouldn’t be the only moment, however.

His nose nudged against yours and his tongue slid past your lips to roam over yours, tasting the remains of the wine you had at dinner and deciding right then and there it was now his favorite wine.

It was him who pulled away, he had to. You both needed to catch your breath. He dropped his forehead to yours and your smiles mirrored one another’s. You waited a second to press your lips against his once more, a quick peck this time because now that you had a taste of him it was going to be impossible to live without it.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that,” Lance admitted, still holding your face.

“Probably as long as I’ve been waiting for you to do that,” you guessed and Lance’s laughter was music to your ears.

This, you thought, this was going to be the start of something truly beautiful.

And Lance was thinking the exact same thing.