#i did manage to escape the loop after laying on different parts of the floor 3 times to get myself an orange and some food and go

[elytrafemme]

GM i feel gross and like i was in a sawtrap bu tim pushing thry. tmi details in tags

[gryffindors-weasley]

Late Nights, Early Mornings

Benedict Bridgerton x Fem!Reader

Summary: When you can’t sleep, Benedict will always be there.

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: none—fluff, kissing

A sigh left your lips as you rolled further onto your side, resting your head tiredly on Benedict’s shoulder. You weren’t entirely sure of the hour, it could have been late in the night or early in the morning. Either way, you could not sleep and that much was certain. You’ve got far too much energy to sleep, though you were far too tired to do anything else but to stay in the comfort of your bed and hope dreams find you. Your mind wasn’t active with anything important in particular—well, maybe a few things.

Your mind was bouncing between one trivial thought to the next in a restless loop, anywhere from the happenings of early that evening to the walk you wanted to take through the garden with Benedict the following day. It left you no other choice but to settle for sulking, to dance your fingertips across his chest as you so often did. Your touch was featherlight as you did just that, eyelids tauntingly heavy as you continued the absentminded action.

It was a rather tiresome night at Lady Danbury’s estate, the events she holds always proving to be extraordinarily exceptional in all aspects. Your feet ache from a night of dancing with your beau and his brothers, your mind exhausted from holding one too many conversations, some of which with people you’d never even met prior to that evening. Not only that, but the event itself was much too long after the first hour or so, and the fatigue settling upon you would very much agree with that statement. You were quite sure you would be sore once you get up for the morning.

Needless to say, there was ample reason for you to be fast asleep in that current moment, but your mind fervently says otherwise as you remain awake.

Admittedly, it was rather peaceful as you lay there. The warmth of the sheets juxtaposed with the breeze filtering in through the open windows sweeping across your skin—it felt entirely calming. With it brought the subtle sound of said breeze gusting through the leaves on the multitude of trees in the garden, the scent of flowers wafting in. Moonlight streamed in through the arched windows, weaving around the burgundy curtains draping around them and stretching across the hardwood floor.

It was a sight all too beautiful—a different kind of beauty than that of elegant gowns and finely tailored suits, of polished dancefloors and well practiced music. While you did enjoy the constructed beauty of the estate you could call your very own home, even the very room you currently reside within, it paled in comparison to the natural glamour all around you. The intricate gold detailing around each and every door frame, the meticulously painted portraits on the walls, the grand pianos and chandeliers; they were all nothing short of gorgeous you must say. But there was something utterly enamoring about the way the curtains swayed with the wind and stars that twinkled above you.

Your gaze flits to Benedict as you breathe out another sigh, a soft smile on your lips. You’re smiling at the way his hair sits in tousled tangles of dark brown curls, dipping freely over his forehead. It was never necessarily neat and managed to begin with, and the thought alone had you stifling a quiet laugh. You gaze at the way his lashes curl over the tops of his cheeks, and the bridge of his ever so kissable nose and the soft smattering of freckles that dance across it. Your attention focuses on the occasional tightening of his grip around your waist out of instinct should you stray too far from him, and the moments he wakes up briefly just to kiss your forehead before drifting off. It was a seemingly unbreakable habit, one that you adored so wholly. It is but a wonder how his love can be so delightfully dizzying, how he himself could be so wonderful. But he is.

You hadn’t known quite how long you’d been caught up in your own thinking, in your own admiring, but you had most certainly known of the hand enveloping your wrist and the soft laugh sounding in the otherwise quiet room. One that startled you only slightly.

“I can feel you staring, my love,” he states, the corner of his mouth quirking to a smile before he turns his head and peeks an eye open at you. “I’m afraid you’re not as discreet as you may think.”

You smile brightly, beamingly as you lean up and press a kiss to his cheek. He smiles in bliss at the action, eyes fluttering closed only briefly.

“Sorry,” you mumble quietly, fingers still swirling on his skin, “couldn’t sleep.”

He hums softly in acknowledgment, your words capturing his attention fully as he turned his head to look at you. His eyes take in your sleepy expression, your grin there and just for him nonetheless. “Perhaps you’d like to tell me why?”

You bit the inside of your cheek to fight your growing smile and your efforts were quickly proving to be futile the more you held his amused gaze. He knew you were up to something, you always were and he always knew just when that was. He could tell by the very smile that had been playing on your lips and the mischievous look filling your stare.

“My mind won’t seem to let me forget the way you’ve twirled me directly into the Queen herself this evening.”

There it was.

His tired laughter continued once more at your words and you couldn’t stifle your own a moment longer, nor did you hesitate to scrunch your nose in displeasure at his reaction. “And I suppose you think that is all my fault? Never mind your perpetual clumsiness, of course it couldn’t be that.”

His jesting words were spoken softly against your lips, his nose brushing against your own as he kisses you to silence your inevitable scoff. Your inevitable complaint for stating the obvious. You relax against him then, almost letting yourself become distracted. Truthfully, you had, it wasn’t hard to with the way your lips meld perfectly with one another. Or perhaps it was the way he smiled against them because of the sheer love in his heart for you before continuing with a kiss far too intoxicatingly gentle and sweet to ignore. The way the warmth of his palm pressed gently to your flushed cheek before sliding down your arm as it had moments before. But, with all the reluctance in the world you part from him, a teasing smile on your lips.

“Yes,” you start, nipping the very tip of his nose. “I very much do think so, my love. And I do believe you are just as clumsy as I am.”

“Am not!” He defends, propping himself up on his elbow, his blue stare now narrowed playfully at you as his hand never leaves your arm.

You scoff incredulously, trying not to be swayed by your desire to kiss him once more though you will admit it was rather hard to ignore. “Need I remind you of the incident at Somerset House?”

He squints down at you as you raise your brow in a silent challenge, lips kiss swollen and pursed as you wait for him to break. He could deny it all he so desires, but you knew for certain that he’d had more than enough clumsy encounters for the two of you. You narrowed your eyes the more moments that passed, still amused and still patiently waiting as the brunette just inches in front of you bit the inside of his cheek. He was so close his breath fanned across your lips.

“That table was deceiving,” He explains, causing you to tip your head back and your laughter to escape you without hesitation as he flops back next to you with a bounce. “How was I to know it’d topple over like that?”

Your teasing smile had soon dwindled to a soft one as he settled close to you, your laughter mingling in the air. His eyes nearly sparkle as he looked at you, his grin equally soft. “Regardless, you nearly knocked a rather expensive painting off the wall in your attempt to grab my hand and flee from the mess you’d created. How ever shall I forget that?”

Your voice is soft and spoken with the utmost of lighthearted teasing, a squeal leaving your lips when his hand moves from your wrist to envelop your own, tugging you swiftly to be impossibly closer to him. His smile is sleepy and fond, your joined hands coming to rest on his chest as his thumb brushes gingerly over the back of yours. It’s quiet for a few moments, your cheeks flushing over the sheer lovingness held in his gaze.

“I don’t believe you shall ever forget it, you love to tease me far too much on the matter,” he chuckles, though not an ounce of exasperation finds its way in his tone at the obvious fact that surely you will mention it again.

Your smile is beaming as you nudge his nose with your own, lips brushing over lips and breath fanning warmly and softly over skin. Your kiss is tender and fleeting before you drop your head to his chest with a quiet sigh, hiding your face in his neck. He joins your sigh, his fingers trailing up and down your spine in a delicate touch.

For a short while you took the moment to bask in the safety of his arms, in the rhythmic beat of his heart as your ear remained pressed upon his chest. Traces of his laughter still shake you ever so lightly, his lips pressing to the top of your head in a simple moment of affection. He knew no matter how much you joked about it, the events just a few hours prior still bothered you. Even if it’d been just a little bit. It was the Queen after all.

The silence may have been brief but he felt as if he should say something, anything. He knew he needed to.

“In all fairness, you must know that you look rather cute when you’re flustered,” he states. He smiles when he feels your otherwise quiet laughter puff against his neck.

You lift your head slightly, resting it on his shoulder to better see him. “Must I?”

He lets go of your hand to brush the hair out of your face, to brush his thumb across your cheek. He felt as though his heart nearly bursted in his chest with the way the moonlight glimmered over you, with the way it made your eyes shine brighter than any star. With the way you looked at him, a look that will always give him butterflies, that will always make him melt. He nods. “Yes, you must.”

The corner of your mouth quirks up at his words, and you blink at him tiredly. “She nearly spilled her lemonade on my dress, and she hadn’t looked very happy with me.”

“Do not worry, darling, I have smoothed things over. She loves me after all,” he says, the pad of his thumb moving from your cheek to sweep over your lip.

The roll of your eyes was expected, something bringing out the softest of laughs in him as he tilted your chin up and kissed you. “Then I must say I don’t blame her.”

He parted from your lips to kiss the very tip of your nose, to kiss your cheeks, your forehead, your jaw. Your laughter sounded by the time he made it back to your mouth, his forehead rested on yours as he relished in that very moment. Any bit of time he has with you, just the two of you—it’s time always cherished. Even if it’s you teasing him in good fun for his clumsy mistakes, and him hopelessly trying to deny such clumsy incidents. It’s all he’d ever need and it’s all he’d ever want.

“I think we should go back to sleep now, Y/n/n,” he murmurs, tugging the blankets back up.

You finally could agree on that statement, the fatigue of the day just catching up with you as you yawn. He tucked you close, his hand soon finding yours as he lays back against your pillow. The moment you’re comfortable, your joined hands rest on his chest once more, fingers entwining and legs tangling.

“I love you, Ben,” you whisper softly.

He smiles at the nickname, peering down to meet your sleepy gaze. You press one final kiss to his lips to further confirm your affections, the action wordless and fleeting before you let your head fall to his shoulder.

“I love you more,” he murmurs, the corner of his mouth tugging up in a lopsided smile.

He’d love you forever—in the late nights and the early mornings.

—

Tags: @dreaming-about-fanfictions @awritingtree @writeroutoftime @elennox03

[emilia3546]

Reflections - Nessian NSFW

Nesta has no idea why Cassian bothered to buy a new, floor-length, mirror, but once she figures it out, she can't get her mind off it.

*****

Nesta hadn't given the new mirror that Cassian had bought a few days ago much thought, until now. Full-length, plenty of empty space in front of it, she hadn't thought anything of it, not even at Cassian's undisguised glee when he'd come home with it, assuming it was just some stupid joke, but days later the mirror was still there. She'd only thought about it yesterday morning when he whispered to her,

"Want to know what it's for? What it's really for?" Nesta had nodded, slightly confused, but realized at once at the gleeful look in his eyes,

"You want to fuck me in front of a mirror?"

"I want you to watch me fucking you in the mirror." She'd flushed bright red at that, but Cassian had already slipped outside, raising an eyebrow at her before disappearing to training. Still, Nesta hadn't been able to shake that idea, he hadn't mentioned it since, and even with her book, it was like the mirror was watching her, but that was ridiculous. She glared at it, slamming her book closed, and Cassian chuckled from beside her, clearly happy to escape his book, well, the book she had practically forced him to read.

"Stop that."

"What?"

"Stop it, stop looking at me like that," she hissed, opening her book again, but gave up after reading the same sentence at least three times,

"Something distracting you?" Cassian grinned, a mischievous glint in his eyes,

"I hate you."

"We both know that's not true," he laughed, and Nesta glowered at him,

"It is," she insisted, but yelped when he moved faster than she could register, flipping her underneath him,

"Then how come I'm the only one who gets to have you like this?"

"I don't know what you mean,"  she managed, but gasped and dropped her head backwards when he pushed her nightgown up, his hand so close to her sex, but staying just too far from it. She squeezed her eyes shut, this was what he wanted, and she wasn't going to lose, so she lifted her head again, "Who says that you're the only one?" She almost missed him move again, only noticing once his hand had curled around her throat. Her words died on her tongue, and she automatically grabbed at his wrist, not bothering to try to dislodge him, just ready to warn him if whatever he did was to much for her.

"I'm sorry?" The opportunity was too good to miss, even if his tone was dangerously low, even if the sensible thing would be to apologize, to save herself a punishment, she smirked as she spoke,

"That's okay, you're forgiven." She had underestimated him, underestimated how quickly he was going to react tonight, no sooner had the words left her mouth than Cassian's grip on her throat tightened. She could, of course, still breathe, but the lack of blood flow left her head roaring, the world fading as she panted, gently squeezing Cassian's wrist. He loosened his grip at her request, but still stared down at her with that unyielding dominance in his eyes, she'd lost, she'd completely and utterly lost.

"Try again," he whispered, and Nesta whimpered, her lie slipping away as she wriggled, Cassian raised an eyebrow, and she stilled, "What were you saying? That I'm not the only one who gets you like this?" He tightened his grip again, and she gasped out his name,

"No, please, I'm sorry, it wasn't true, it wasn't true." He released his grip on her throat, but kept his hand in place, holding her still,

"So you lied to me." She didn't have a clever response to that, "Well?"

"Yes," she whispered, "I'm sorry," she added after a moment, squirming under his gaze as he silently glared down at her,

"Oh we're definitely playing with the mirror now. Do not move." Nesta obeyed, laying still as he disappeared from her view, but shifted around at the sounds of rustling. "You can sit up now." She did, her gaze snapping towards the mirror, and she felt another rush of wetness at the sight before her. Cassian was utterly, gloriously naked, already hard and ready, a length of rope in his hands. It was an effort to stay still, to avoid rushing straight towards him, but this was part of the game, now she'd lost, she had to play the game, had to wait for his order. She grabbed the hem of her nightgown, pulling it over her head at Cassian's nod, "Come here," Nesta didn't need any more encouragement to practically leap up, but she caught herself in time, managing to maintain a steady pace as she walked towards him.

He tipped her chin upwards, one hand in her hair, the other tugging her waist against him, and Nesta moaned when Cassian tugged her head backwards, gripping onto his shoulders as he took the opportunity to slip his tongue into her mouth. She couldn't breathe fast enough, not with the way he was kissing her, hard, fast, so much that she almost couldn't match his movements. He was faster than her, catching her off guard when he nipped at her bottom lip, making her jaw drop further. He allowed her all of one breath before surging back towards her, claiming her lips so thoroughly that she had no doubt of what she wanted,

"No one else," he snarled, "No one else get to have you,"

"No one," she panted, still trembling in his arms, "I'm all yours," she whispered, and Cassian spun her around, and tugged her backwards against his chest, so that she was staring into the mirror. She tried to turn away, but Cassian gripped her chin, turning her head back to the mirror, forcing her to stare into her own eyes. She automatically moved back, but found herself pinned still, Cassian's arms around her waist, she could only see him in the mirror, see the way he was grinning, the way his lips were now slightly swollen, a deep flush creeping down his chest, not that she was in any better shape. With her hair unbound, he'd been able to mess it up enough to make her look truly desperate, if her red cheeks and panting breaths hadn't already given her away.

"Good girl," he murmured, and Nesta saw herself melt under the praise, saw herself sink into his arms, and didn't complain when he slowly leaned back, supporting her with one arm as he lowered them to the floor. He snatched up the discarded length of rope, and steel gathered in Nesta's veins again as she made to crawl away from him, from where she was sitting between his legs. While he was distracted she could snatch back control, but he wasn't really distracted, and he wrapped an arm around her waist, dragging her backwards with a yelp until she was pressed against him again. He locked his ankles against hers, dragging her legs open, and gently guided her head back so that it rested on his shoulder. She drew in a deep breath, but twisted her wrist out of his grip when he caught it, but forgot about the other one, and she huffed when he looped the rope around it, losing her concentration on evading him, and struggled against him for a moment when he caught both, before giving in and glaring at him through the mirror as he bound them together in front of her. In front, not behind, because he wanted to be closer to her, to touch her.

Nesta's eyes flickered shut at the first light touch across her stomach,

"Eyes open," Cassian reminded her, "Watch." She did as she was told, her gaze fixed on his hands where they rubbed circles across her skin, rising higher to knead her breasts in time with her ragged breaths,

"Please," she whispered, trying to keep the desperation out of her voice, and apparently failing, judging by Cassian's chuckled against the skin of her neck,

"Awwww, can't take it?" He tugged on her earlobe, and sped up at the same time, "That's too bad," he hummed, "How badly do you want it?"

"Bad. Please, Cass, please, please," he hummed wordlessly, as if considering her plea,

"You're so pretty when you beg, sweetheart, I want to hear some more." Despite his words, he did dip his hand to brush against her clit, leaving her wriggling, and rocking her hips against him, until he pulled away. She sobbed in desperation, biting her lip to keep from squealing,

"Please," she muttered again, "I need you," no difference, "General," she crooned, and almost laughed at the way Cassian's hands froze momentarily before continuing, "Please, General, I need your cock inside me, I need you to fuck me, please," she tried to sound teasing, but it still came out as a weak whimper,

"Fuck," Cassian muttered next to her ear, his head dropped into her neck as he pressed gentle kisses against her skin, his hair as messy as hers now, a dark angel, her warrior. "You see what you do to me?" He whispered, "Only I can have you, but only you can have me," she was still processing his words when he slid two fingers through her sex, coating them with her wetness, "Oh, you are desperate aren't you, Nesta?" He teased before sliding a finger into her, then a second, pumping them in and out a few times, his other hand keeping her head from falling back, forcing her to keep watching as she rode his fingers, her hips bucking almost uncontrollably now. She screamed his name when he curled his fingers inside her, already hurtling over the edge, and kept screaming as he kept moving inside her, dragging a second climax from her as soon as the first had finished, then a third, then a fourth. Nesta sobbed with pleasure when she came down from her fourth climax, trying to squirm away, trying to push his hand away,

"I can't," she gasped, "Please,"

"You can, and you will. You lied to me, you owe me another four before we play," No, no, no, eight was the number for lying, but she'd hoped he'd just spank her, this was so much harder, and she sobbed again when he pushed her towards the edge. She couldn't do it, it was too much, but she screamed her pleasure again when she came a fifth time, her body no longer responding to her commands to wriggle away from him, to escape the overwhelming pleasure arcing through her at each orgasm. She could hardly see through the tears blurring her vision, but she knew that she was absolutely wrecked, could feel the way her body was loose and pliant against Cassian's, how easily he could move her around, his fingers reaching deeper inside her as he stretched her out, "One more for me, sweetheart, one more, okay," Nesta nodded, and wriggled as her muscles tightened, coiling in her stomach, until Cassian bit down on her neck, sending it all rushing outwards, washing over her in a great wave, leaving her screaming and crying in pleasure.

Cassian gently stroked her hair, rubbing soothing circles against her ribs as Nesta struggled to fill her lungs again and again, spooling herself back together piece by piece, panting as Cassian untied her wrists

"Good girl," he murmured, and Nesta mumbled something incoherent, earning a chuckle from her mate, "So beautiful, so fucking gorgeous," he hummed, and kissed the top of her head. He meant it, Nesta knew he meant it, but the praise still made her squirm, still made her automatically think he was lying. "You did so well, sweetheart," she melted under the adoration in his voice, twisting in his arms to look into his eyes, "You okay?" She nodded, and buried her face in his neck, sighing happily. "Color?" Cassian murmured, and she twisted her head sideways to mutter,

"Orange, I just need a minute."

"Are you done?"

"No. I just need a break," Cassian held her against him as she breathed, and breathed, and breathed, her mind-stilling exercises helping her to relax, to bring herself back to her body, to the present, to Cassian. Once she was ready, she leaned back into him, dragging his face back to hers, her heart cracking at the gentleness of his movements, the worry in his eyes when he pulled back, and lightly kissed her nose. Nesta grinned, and kissed him again, nipping at his bottom lip to turn the kiss into something more, something more demanding. That familiar smirk returned the moment Cassian released her lips, and Nesta shifted her hips against him, chuckling at his muttered curses. She shot him a glance over her shoulder, "Green," she trilled, and leaned forwards onto her forearms, lifting her ass in silent demand. Cassian rose behind her, running a hand down her spine, sparking shivers wherever their skin met, and pushed her legs further apart. Nesta dropped her head onto the floor, suddenly grateful for Cassian's foresight to put a rug there, softening the hard floorboards.

"You're supposed to be watching," Cassian murmured, and Nesta yelped when he pulled her head up, her hair wrapped around his wrist, his hand fisted in her hair. She gasped when he tugged again, lifting her off her hands for a moment before letting her back down, "Now watch, sweetheart," he whispered before slamming into her in one thrust. The sound that left Nesta's throat was one of pure animalistic need, and she couldn't look away, not as he pumped his hips against hers, not as his eyes dropped half-closed with pleasure, not as she unraveled, screaming his name with each thrust. He released her hair to grab her hips with both hands, pulling her backwards at the same time as he thrust forwards into her, Nesta screamed wordlessly, stars filling her vision with each thrust. She lost track of exactly what she was saying, what she was begging for, but Cassian gave her everything she could have asked for, and then some. She came twice more, screaming his name, but still begging for more, until he finally groaned her name, and came himself after one last, harsh thrust. Nesta had already slumped forwards, her ass still in the air as his release slowly dripped out of her. She could never tire of this, of him, not if they had a million years, and she must have said as much, because Cassian eased her into his lap, still panting himself from the force of his climax,

"Now I'm done," she whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck as they sat in silence for a few moments, comfortable, safe in each others' arms. Cassian was still running his hands up an down her sides, as if he needed that contact, that reassurance that Nesta was okay, as he did every time. She kissed his jaw, "I love you," she mumbled, her heart aching at the undisguised worry in his eyes, "I'm fine," she wriggled back slightly, "See? Fine," still, Cassian would need to check for himself, but Nesta could do this for him, "I will always love you, you know that, right?"

"I know," he ran his lips across her jaw again, "But it does help to hear you say it,"

"I can say if every five minutes if that's what you need to believe me." He chuckled at that, and ran his gaze over her again,

"You sure you're okay? Do you need anything?"

"I'm fine," she took in a deep breath, releasing it slowly, proving to him that she was recovering fine, still remembering his panic when she'd come one too many times, and hadn't been able to catch her breath. Cassian had made sure to watch her breathing ever since, and she couldn't bring herself to tell him that she'd tell him if she was struggling, even if Madja had said that it was just because she had been tired. Cassian was still holding her to his chest, waiting until her breathing had completely returned to normal before carrying her across to the bed,

"Give me one minute, okay?" Nesta nodded, and Cassian moved quickly to the bathroom, coming back in less than the minute he'd asked for, finding Nesta alert, and glancing around the room. She relaxed again the moment he reappeared in her vision, "I'm sorry," he murmured, "I should have had this ready in here,"

"It's okay," Nesta muttered, "You're here, that's all I need," Cassian kissed her forehead again before gently cleaning her up with the washcloth he'd gone to fetch, but protested when she tried to do the same, claiming that he was fine, but Nesta just glared at him until he caved. She was still wobbly on her feet when she stood, and she didn't miss the note of satisfaction in Cassian's gaze when he noted that fact, but she ignored it, careful when she reached his back. "Do you want me to do your wings?" Cassian nodded, and Nesta swiped up a towel, quickly drying the areas she'd washed straight away, and Cassian dropped his head forwards, his eyes falling closed, a low groan sounding in his chest, not one of pleasure, but contentment. Nesta placed the bowl and cloths to the side, smiling when Cassian slipped under the covers, opening his arms to her. She slipped underneath one, half-laying on his chest, with Cassian holding her tightly against him, one hand around her waist, the other cradling her head. She sighed happily, and snuggled into him, giggling when he wrapped his wings around her, leaving her head free, her breathing space. She mumbled again that she loved him, but she was already slipping into sleep, hardly registering his chuckle as he stroked her hair softly until he too fell asleep.

[perseabethj]

i don't really have an explanation (iv.)

Percy didn’t let go of Annabeth’s hands once they entered in the apartment. It’s not that he thought she couldn’t defend herself if need be, but he didn’t fully trust his classmates -at least, not drunk. He hadn’t wanted to come to the party, but his friends had convinced him that, as part of the swim team, he couldn’t escape socializing forever. He was happy enough with his small circle of friends, but they had let him know that, while they were also happy being just the four of them, they wouldn’t mind surrounding themselves with the popular crowd every once in a while. Percy had felt a little bit guilty because of denying them that, and Annabeth had told him that going out once wouldn’t hurt. He had decided to trust her (he’d been doing that for years and that was the only reason as to why he was still alive), and thus had told Chris Parker, his team’s captain, that he would maybe show up at his party that weekend. It was Halloween, after all, and he felt a little bit silly staying at home during his senior year of high school. He knew high school parties could get a little bit wild, but the moment the door opened and music filled his ears, he was starting to regret his decision.

‘’I know that this is my first party and all that, but are guys supposed to walk around shirtless? Are they even pretending to wear a costume?’’ Annabeth asked to no one in particular, raising her eyebrows.

‘’We’re talking about the sport jocks,’’ Kayla reminded her with a pointed look, pulling at her cheerleader uniform; she'd never be caught dead with one of this seriously, but her sister had been a cheerleader years ago and Kayla wasn't about to spend forty dollars on a costume she would never wear again.

‘’Hey!’’ Percy exclaimed. These were his teammates, after all (he could also recognise some of the guys from the soccer team and some cheerleaders arounds, and he was pretty sure there were also some marching band kids, but he wasn’t about to point that out, since that would only support Kayla’s point).

‘’Don’t act all offended,’’ Annabeth told him, ‘’you spend half of your time at camp shirtless as well.’’

‘’I spend half of my time at camp at the beach, and the rest of my time I’m sweating my ass off because of you or Clarisse, so be thankful I’m wearing my shirt that half of the time and I don’t go to the dining pavilion naked.’’

‘’While most of Cabin 10 wouldn’t probably mind, Mr. D would turn you into a dolphin the moment he saw your naked butt.’’

‘’That he would,’’ Percy answered, laughing as he let go of her hand to wrap his arm around her shoulder. He leaned into her ear playfully and said, ‘’don’t tell anyone, but I miss the guy.’’

His friends looked at them as if they were crazy, but knew better than to question them.

‘’I need something to drink,’’ Matthew told the group. ‘’Do you want anything?’’

Percy and Annabeth shook their heads, choosing to wait before drinking anything at all (Percy also didn’t want to explain to his friends why he didn’t drink alcohol, and Annabeth knew that). Louis said something that sounded foreign to Percy -seriously, a vodka with a twist on the rocks? Couldn’t he simply say vodka? And did he really have to order it with a twist? He’d never understand rich kids-, and Matthew gave him a thumbs up, which was the only thing he could do with the foam cheer gloves he was wearing along with his baseball player costume.

‘’I’ll come with you,’’ Kayla said, looping her arm around his and dragging him across the hall.

Percy looked around the party, trying to decide what to do. He didn’t have to look at Annabeth to know she was doing the same thing, and he also knew she felt more uncomfortable than he did, since she knew nobody but him and his friends.

‘’I just wanted to let you know you made me lose a bet,’’ Louis suddenly said.

They looked questioningly at him and he pointed at them and their clothes.

‘’I had bet that you wouldn’t wear matching costumes,’’ he said. ‘’I didn’t take you for the kind of couple who does, even if you are all lovey-dovey. You both seem too mature for that.’’

‘’We didn’t plan it,’’ Annabeth told him. ‘’I mean, we both knew we’d be wearing this, but we didn’t really plan it. Percy didn’t know if he wanted to come until the last minute and we had no costumes at home, and we both suck at any kind of DIY. We had this at home from before.’’

‘’From before?’’ Louis asked, an eyebrow raised.

‘’We organised a Greek party at camp once,’’ Percy quickly said. ‘’We kept the clothes in case, and they have thankfully come in handy. An actual toga looks more dignified than a sheet, which was what my mum thought we’d be wearing when we told her about this.’’

‘’You have knifes from before?’’

Annabeth laughed and looked at the knife strapped to her arm. She had used the Mist to make sure her dagger stayed like one and Percy had complained that he couldn’t do that. She had then reminded him that walking around with a three-feet-long bronze sword wouldn’t be the wisest thing to do, considering that, if he were to hit somebody accidentally with it, everyone would know it wasn’t plastic when it simply moved through them, which was why he was weaponless.

‘’Who says it’s not a real knife?’’ Annabeth asked enigmatically.

Before Louis could say anything else, Annabeth pulled Percy forward with her and moved towards the dance floor. She could see Louis’s confused face as he walked to the kitchen to find the rest of the group and laughed lightly before wrapping her arms around Percy’s neck.

‘’You shouldn’t do that,’’ Percy told her, but he was definitely holding back a smile. ‘’His head is going to explode one day if you keep making those kinds of comments.’’

‘’It’s not my fault mortals are so easy to fool.’’

He finally smiled widely and brought her closer, his hands on her waist. Annabeth breathed a sigh of relief -between exams, monsters and the typical anxiousness that all demigods carried whenever they stepped onto the street, being at a party with her boyfriend and worrying about nothing at all was a godsend. She could feel Percy’s smile against her hair, since he was laying his cheek on her head, and she could also hear his heartbeat, her ear pressed against his chest. It didn’t matter to them that the song was definitely not a slow one, and so they swayed slowly to the rhythm of a song that definitely required more moving. Percy knew people were looking at them; not everyone knew he had a girlfriend, even if he wasn’t particularly secretive about it, and they made quite a striking pair in their white togas with golden details, golden tiaras and leather sandals.

‘’I love you,’’ he whispered, and Annabeth was amazed at the way he managed to make it sound romantic even in the middle of a techno song.

‘’I know,’’ she answered softly. ‘’I love you, too.’’

When the song finally ended, they separated; it’s not as if they had actually been paying attention to the music playing, but tuning out two loud songs and managing to dance for so long was too much for two people with ADHD.

‘’Shall we go to the kitchen to get some water?’’ Annabeth asked.

Percy nodded and threw his arm around her shoulder again, her arm automatically moving to wrap around his waist. It had made her uncomfortable at the beginning of the relationship how Percy always wanted to be touching her, since she didn’t fully understand why. She had always been the one to hold his hand when she was scared, and it had taken her a while to realise it was because he didn’t want to make her uncomfortable and he never truly believed that she could like him back. Now that Percy knew she loved him just as much as he loved her, his body always found a way to make sure he was touching her; even during the hot summer nights they spent together after the Giant War, he had always managed to wrap his leg around hers or to lay his hand on top of her hip while he slept.

They were greeted by his tipsy friends when they reached the kitchen, who thankfully didn’t question it when Annabeth simply grabbed a bottle of water and Percy a can of coke. Percy was happy with his life at the moment; things might not have been perfect, but they were better than they had been in a long time. His friends liked his girlfriend, nobody was trying to kill him on the regular (he didn’t even care about random monsters anymore; no god or Titan going specifically after him? Are you kidding? A dream ), he was about to have a baby sister, and he hadn’t exploded his school yet. Looking around the group of people surrounding him, he felt a sense of normalcy that he had longed for for a while. Matthew was talking about a different girl he had fallen in love with - ‘’I’m telling you, man, she is the one’’ -, and Kayla was mocking him while Louis laughed quietly and Annabeth laughed with him. He pressed a kiss at the top of Annabeth’s head and brought her even closer, relishing the situation. Of course, good things never lasted forever.

‘’Hey, blondie!’’ John Robinson’s voice called. He tried to grab her arm, but Percy pushed her closer when he felt her slipping away. She didn’t move away from him, but did turn to face John with a steely look in her eyes.

She said nothing, simply arching an eyebrow and defying him to say anything else. Had he been sober, he would have probably walked away -at least, Percy hoped so, since the guy was an asshole, but not stupid-, but he was, very clearly, drunk.

‘’Mind your mouth, Robinson,’’ Percy threateningly said. He saw his friends straightening up from the periphery of his eye, aware that this could lead to something ugly.

‘’You know, blondie, you scared me pretty badly the other day at the meet,’’ he said, slurring his words, ‘’but it was so hot that I jerked off to it when I got home.’’

‘’That’s enough,’’ Percy exclaimed, moving forward and raising his fist before being pulled back by Annabeth.

‘’Stop it!’’ she yelled. She turned to look at him and put one hand on his chest, the other holding his hand and forcing him to look at her before she whispered, ‘’I can do this myself. Besides, you don’t want to be taken off the team.’’

She turned again to look at the laughing John, who was now making fun of Percy. They had attracted a crowd and people were anxiously whispering, both excited and afraid of a fight breaking out.

‘’Man, she must be really good in the bedroom for you to be so submissive.’’

‘’If you don’t shut up, you’ll be breathing through your mouth for the next six weeks,’’ she calmly said.

‘’Oh, come on, blondie, are you being tough because you know it turns me on?’’

He raised his hand to touch her hair, but Annabeth used her left hand to push his arm away and, then, raised her right fist and punched him in the nose. He fell backwards, holding his nose and screaming in pain. His voice was the only one in the kitchen; everyone had gone silent the moment he tried to touch her, expectant of what was about to happen.

‘’You bitch!’’

‘’Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, you big baby,’’ she said, not even holding her hand or caring about her knuckles. She bent down and smiled happily, patting his foot. ’’Be thankful I didn’t dislocate your shoulder, because that’s my speciality. You can ask Percy. It turns him on when I’m tough, too, but, unlike you, he actually gets to do something about it.’’

She stood up and searched for Percy’s hand blindly, who had already extended it to take hers before she was even up. There was still an angry look in his eyes, but there was a troublemaker smile that she adored adorning his face.

‘’Do you want to stay for another song, or should we go home?’’ She asked, ignoring the glances everyone was sending them.

‘’Home,’’ Percy said, smiling. ‘’Definitely home.’’

They started moving towards the door, people moving to let them pass. Just before they were out of the kitchen, Annabeth turned around and smiled sweetly at his friends.

‘’Are you coming?’’

Silently, they followed them, making a mental note not to bother Annabeth or Percy if they didn’t want to end up with a broken nose. Once they were out on the street, Annabeth broke out laughing, and Percy followed. Matthew, Kayla and Louis couldn’t help but laugh as well, and they knew they looked like a group of drunk teenagers, but they didn’t really care.

‘’That was even better than when you judo flipped me,’’ Percy said once he calmed down, using his finger to dry the tears off his face.

Annabeth laughed and elbowed him on the side before pressing her face against his chest. His arm was once again around her shoulders, and they looked just as happy as they had when they had first arrived at the party.

‘’What an uneventful night, though,’’ Annabeth said quite seriously, but with a soft smile on her face.

Percy hummed and nodded, and his friends couldn’t help but wonder what was an eventful night for them. They knew, however, not to ask anymore.

[eirian-houpe]

Beauty Enlightened

Fandom: Once Upon a Time (TV)

Rating: Not Rated

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold

Characters: Belle (Once Upon a Time), Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Mad Hatter | Jefferson, Grace | Paige, Blue Fairy | Mother Superior

Additional Tags: curse, Angst, Romance, UST

Series: Part 2 of Beauty...

Summary: Lady Belle of Adelram Hall is dismayed to find her husband-to-be missing, and is brought to find, and to save him, by the man who confesses his love for Rumplestiltskin.

Beauty Enlightened

As the remaining winter days became a thing of the past, and the the first spring morning dawned, brighter and clearer than anyone anticipated, it was with a flush of renewed nervousness that Belle greeted the day.

Since before midwinter, so long ago now that she could barely remember the awkward days of stilted conversation, when she would twist the jewel on the ring finger of her left hand, the day of her fiance’s return had been a constant, and surprising, point of anticipation. She had been unable to come to know the man to whom she had promised herself, before business had called him away. A relief of sorts, for how could she not think it fortuitous, the chance to learn the estate she was to manage? With Grace for company, the time was such a gift.

As she sat with the young woman that morning, though, their mood was somber on what should have been a day of celebration; the first day of spring. They took breakfast with barely a word spoken between them. There had been a letter come that morning. Two as it turned out, as Grace slowly slid the missive across the table to her.

The paper was the same soft velum as before, with crisp, sharp folds, but the hand upon the front of the letter was not the looping cursive, not was it in her fiance’s customary ink, but in a deep, burnt umber color, and the seal on the back was in the shape of a hat.

“Aren’t you going to read it?” Grace asked quietly, sounding almost as fearful as she was suddenly. She took a deep breath, and then hooked her thumbnail beneath the seal, preparing to break it. Then she froze. A single word in tiny letters was printed beneath the seal, and she lifted it closer to her face to peer at it.

Believe.

She frowned as she read it, and a slight shiver went through her, like a warning, or some kind of expectation.

“Belle?” Grace questioned.

She shook her head. “I’m sure it’s nothing,” she said and tugged at the seal until it broke from the paper and she could unfold the letter, swallowing hard as she did.

The message was short, and to the point. It read, “Miss French, I shall call for you at 2pm, and you must trust me, and come at once.” And it was signed with the same, strange cursive as on the envelope with a single name. Jefferson.

Without knowing why, Belle felt her eyes fill with tears, and she fought not to let them escape. There was no real reason to suspect that Jefferson’s words meant anything untoward. She slid the letter over to Grace.

The girl read silently, then said to herself, “He went through with it,” in a tone that was part question and a good deal of worried surprise.

“Went through with what?” She questioned beginning to chew her lip in worry at what might have happened. Mister Gold had said that his journey was for business. What kind of business could he possibly have had that would warrant such a comment? 

Grace shook her head, though she reached to cover Belle’s hand with her own. “It’s not my place to tell,” she said. “Wait until my papa gets here. If he doesn’t explain, then he can show you.”

The greeting was not tearful. Belle would not allow it to be despite being worked almost to a frenzy by the appointed hour. Grace, too, shifted foot to foot as the Grandfather Clock in the main entrance hall of the house chimed the hour. Belle looked toward the door which for a moment seemed to shimmer as if it lay beyond some great blaze that she could not see, and then from nowhere, a man appeared as though he had simply come fully formed into existence even as she blinked.

He was tall and slender, neatly dressed for all his clothing was of mismatched colors, set off by the patterned, purple cravat tied around his neck with the ends disappearing beneath the v of his button festooned, soft leather vest. Most curious of all - more curious even than the high collar on his long coat - was the hat he carried in his hand. A tall, top hat, a little scuffed in places, but carried as though it were either the most precious, or the most dangerous, thing in the world. He stepped forward, and behind him came another man, though not Gold. This man had the look of a tenant farmer, tidy, but clearly a man accustomed to work.

Jefferson opened his mouth to speak, instead let out a soft ‘oof’ as Grace knocked the breath from him. She ran to him and threw herself against him with a cry of, “Papa!” Then Jefferson wrapped her in his arms, and lifted her feet from the ground to hold her close, as though she were a small child and not a young lady approaching adulthood. “I’ve missed you,” she said.

“And I you, my Grace,” Jefferson said softly, then setting her down added, “But there will be time enough for this later. Now we must bring Adelram’s lady to her lord.”

“I can come too?” Grace said with great excitement.

“Indeed,” Jefferson said, and waving his free hand at the farmer, continued, “I anticipated you would; nay, you must.”

“For the same amount of people that go through have to come back,” Grace recited.

“No more, no less,” Jefferson finished, and then looking up at Belle told her, “The hat’s rules, not mine.”

Belle shook her head. “I don’t understand,” she said.

Releasing Grace, Jefferson stepped closer to her, holding out his hat in her direction. It seemed to her to be an ordinary hat, and she looked up at Jefferson and said with exaggerated patience, “It’s a hat.”

“A magic hat,” he said. “A hat that opens portals to other worlds, other places.” Belle frowned, but did not scoff or deride Jefferson for his words. He spoke with such conviction that she found herself unable to do other than believe. “When I left from here, through the hat, it was with Mister Gold. Hence…” he gestured toward the farmer who was standing now, looking awkward, cap in hand, “…who incidentally should probably be fed and given lodgings until I can return him to his home.”

“Of… of course,” Belle stammered, and nodded to the silent, ever present Dove, who led the man out of the hallway.

“Now, since we must go, and bring back Mister Gold,” he pointed in turn at each of them. “We must be three.”

The mention of bringing back her fiance rekindle Belle’s worries.

“Did something… happen?” she asked hesitantly.

Jefferson’s face became somber. “A great deal, dear lady, and you must not be alarmed at the changes you will see.”

“What is it?” she snapped. “Is he injured… ill?”

Jefferson held up his hand. “Easier to show you, Lady Belle,” he said.

Swallowing hard, she nodded, and watched as Jefferson stepped back, set his hat upon the floor, and with the flick of a wrist, set the garment spinning.

A spot of darkness appeared then, as if it had climbed out of the depths of the hat, and after a moment expanded as it became surrounded by a purple maelstrom, which looked as though it should have been accompanied by a great wind. Instead, it brought silence, as though it had sucked into itself all the sound in the world to leave nothing in the space left behind.

Jefferson held out his hand to Grace, who took it without hesitation, then offered his arm to Belle. She glanced first at Grace, who nodded, filling Belle with the courage to slip her hand into the crook of Jefferson’s arm. With no further warning then, he jumped into the dark spot in the heart of the swirling mist, pulling Belle and Grace along with him.

Belle expected a feeling of falling, instead as though in a long, slow blink, the darkness swallowed her one moment, and in the next, before her stood a large, empty room encircled with doors, each bearing a different motif. Beside her, Jefferson once more had the hat in his hand.

“Wh— what… where are we?” Belle asked, feeling quite faint as she tried to comprehend all that was happening to her and around her.

“The Hall of Doors,” Jefferson told her, then added sharply, “Grace, come away!”

The girl jumped, and snatched her hand back from the door that she was reaching for, it’s mirrored surface shimmering, as though calling to be touched.

“Where does it lead, Papa?” Grace asked, contrite as she came to take Belle’s hand.

“Nowhere we ever want to go,” he answered, leading them toward a door on which the leafy motif of a tree stood out in stark relief against the dark oak of the wood. He reached out to pull open the door and Belle gasped. Beyond the threshold she saw a rolling countryside, with a rich forest on the other side of the fields. “This way,” he told them, and stepped through. Grace tugged on Belle’s hand, pulling her through, until Belle could feel the breeze on her cheeks, and hear the soft susurration of the leaves rustling in the trees.

She turned around, expecting to see through the doorway back into the Hall of Doors, and uttered a cry of surprise as she saw only more countryside, and more forest.

“Where are we, now?” she asked.

“This is the Enchanted Forest,” Grace answered. “It’s where I was born.”

Jefferson was already striding ahead, his long legs taking him further from Belle and Grace, who encouraged her to hurry to catch up.

“Where are we going?” Belle called to him.

“Into the woods,” Jefferson called back, without slowing his pace.

Breathless by the time they reach the cottage that was just within the shadow of the trees, Belle reached out and caught hold of Jefferson’s coat, bringing him to a spinning halt and then fixing him with a stare she hadn’t used in many a month. She folded her arms across her chest.

“I’m not taking another step until you tell me what’s going on,” she said.

Jefferson took in a deep breath, that seemed to fill his entire frame and then held it, his face beginning to redden with the effort until he let it out in an explosive breath as he answered, “Very well, but… come inside. We shouldn’t talk about it out here.” He leaned toward her then, and added in a voiced whisper, “You never know who’s listening.”

He nodded then to Grace, who led the way into the little cottage. It was more spacious than Belle anticipated, and in one corner of the main room, across from the fireplace was a loom, and from the beams hung hanks of yarn of many natural colors as though they were drying.

“Welcome to my humble home,” Jefferson said with a low bow as he followed them in, and then set his hat upon the nearby table.

“I… you… live here?” Belle asked softly.

Jefferson shook his head, even as Grace began to move around the cottage, gathering the things she would need to make tea, after lighting a fire in the hearth.

“We’re hardly ever here,” he said, gesturing to Grace and himself. “Not since Rump— since Mister Gold began his… journey.”

“Journey?” Belle said. “But he’s lived at Adelram Hall for as long as I can remember, I—”

“Yes, yes,” Jefferson said, as if trying to curb impatience. “That he has, but you see, before that…”

“Before that I wasn’t even born,” she argued, “and my mother before me said—”

“—that Mister Gold has been the Lord of Adelram and its surrounds for as long as she could remember. Since she were a little girl?”

“Yes.”

Jefferson just nodded, and then picked up a scroll from the table, which he handed to Belle.  She hesitated a moment, before she began to unroll the parchment. Faster than she could have anticipated, Jefferson reached out and placed his hand over it and warned her softly, “Be very sure you wish to know, my dear lady, everything that you do not yet comprehend about your husband to be.”  Belle fixed him again with the terrible stare, and with a gesture of submission, Jefferson stepped back, hands raised, and gave her a nod. “Then read, dear lady,” he said, and went to help Grace with the tea.

Belle watched the two of them for a moment, before she returned her attention to the scroll in her hand, and began to read. It was a heartbreaking, and yet terrifying accounting of spells and dark magic - all of the things of rumor about her fiance from her own world, writ large upon the page - unbelievable and fantastical creatures, faithless pirates and evil queens, and a curse… darkness bestowed by a mystical dagger and all in service to finding—

“A son…?” she questioned, looking up to find Jefferson and Grace long since engaged in cooking a meal, and lamps lit around the cottage. Jefferson wiped his hands and came over to her, to take the scroll from her hands. He nodded wordlessly. “He never said.”

“He wouldn’t,” he said, urging her to sit, and lowering himself to straddle another chair, turned backwards, and to lean on the chair back as he spoke. “After so long, and all the things he’s done as the Dark One…”

“Dark One?” Belle echoed.

“Last in a long line of Dark One’s before him,” Jefferson answered, his eyes unfocused into memory. “He took the curse, not out of avarice or greed, as those before him had, but out of love. The love of his son - the desire to save him, save all the children from fighting in a terrible war against fearsome and merciless creatures… but it was from men that he was saving them.”  He sighed. “There’s… a prophesy,” he said, refocusing again, his eyes meeting Belle’s, “that tells of one that will use the power of the Dark One for good.”

“You think that’s Mister Gold?” Belle as much stated as asked, barely giving a thought to her acceptance of this tall tale that her fiance could be some kind of dark sorcerer from this ‘fairytale’ world.

“He was the one that gave me The Hat,” Jefferson said in answer. “I should hate him for it.”

Belle watched the intensity of loss flash across Jefferson’s eyes, to be replaced by the quiet seriousness of a no less intense emotion that she recognized well… because she felt it too.

“You love him,” she accused softly.

“Yes,” he said simply.

Silence lingered for a time between them, before Belle raised the scroll between them once more. “So… what is all this? Why bring me here? Why couldn’t you just… bring Mister Gold back to Adelram.”

Another silence, and then almost a whisper, Jefferson answered, “Because he… doesn’t remember.”

“Tell me,” Belle insisted, “everything.”

In answer, Jefferson gave her only three words. “The Blue Fairy.”

Day had barely begun when Jefferson, leaving Grace sleeping in her own bed after so long, led Belle out of the cottage and along the track between trees leading deeper into the forest.

Her head swiveled back and forth, peering into shadows cast in green and gold as rising sunlight reflected off the leaves. The woods around them were alive with the song of awakening wildlife, but hushed, as if in some kind of awe - as if they were listening, and it made her listen too.

It was faint at first, almost so faint that she missed it. It carried on the wind… an impish giggle here… a cascade of words there… a grumble and a growl before more laughter.

“Is that…?” Belle whispered, almost too afraid to ask.

“Lost to madness, I fear.” Jefferson’s morose tones pulled a knot of anguish tight in her gut, and Belle stopped to lean against the nearest tree - listening.

“…careful not to lose the way…” snatches of babbling words reached her as she waited. It did little to curb her growing fear. “…to get the thing…” a peel of laughter. “…to make the potion…” a grumble, “…to get, to bring…” a growl, “…and home before—”

The nonsense stopped abruptly, followed by a loud sniffing, and then…

“Come out, come out, wherever you are…” the singsong voice challenged. “Or maybe I should just…”

Before she knew what had happened, Belle found herself surrounded by a chill, purple mist. One minute leaning against the tree, the next… 

It was a small clearing in the wood in which she found herself, beside a fallen tree that had partially rotted and was covered in fungi of many different kinds. The ground was littered with last autumn’s leaf fall, and twigs and other debris of the winter past covered the ground. In the center of the clearing, was an area that looked burned, scorched and black with coals, but the rising sun, shining through the prism of dew caught in the budding leaves above, cast rainbows over the coals as if pointing to the fearsome dagger buried at least half way along its fluted blade in the middle of it all.

On the other side of it crouched, goblin-like on the stump of the fallen log, a creature with green-gold scales over what she could see of his exposed skin, beneath a mop of wavy hair. It… he was dressed in leather britches, with a brown, scaled waistcoat over a black shirt, the sleeves of which billowed outward as he moved his arms as if waving them over the top of the dagger in some kind of arcane incantation. His head jerked up, lizard-like and Belle found herself captivated by amber eyes that bore into her, as his head swayed side to side, as if in an attempt to capture something… elusive… recognized.

“If you’re trying to frighten me,” Belle said, pulling in the fear she felt and trying to turn it into anger, “You’re wasting your time.”

She gasped softly then and took a half step backwards as he hopped as quick as the sound of a bell, off the log to stand before her, his arms half raised in a gesture of… what she couldn’t tell. However she reacted before she could catch herself, reached out and slapped the back of his uppermost hand as if to punish an errant child.

“You stop that, right now!”

She saw him then, clearly, as if for the first time, recognizing, through the hair and the scales and the color of his eyes and his skin, the image of her fiance.

“Mister Gold?”

He took a breath, held it, and then it sighed out before he announced, “Well that was a bit of a let down!”

“That I wasn’t afraid?” she lied. “I’ve never been afraid of you. You know that.”

Jefferson had told her that the only chance was for her to reach through the madness into the mind of the man she knew, to draw him back from the precipice on which he teetered after falling foul of the wards placed on what remained of the portal the Blue Fairy’s bean had opened; the one that took Mister Gold’s son from him.

“Know…? Know…? No,” he answered, but then… “but maybe… no… it’s gone.”

“Belle,” she reminded him. “Your fiancee, remember?” she leaned down a little to peer into his strangely alluring eyes for he had lowered his head. “You made my father promise you my hand because he stole one of your roses…?”

“But,” he answered, insisting, “I’m not looking for lurve…”

“Then what do you want?” she interrupted, adding, “You seemed to be… all the times we danced together. The way you held me. The way your breath…” her throat tightened as she remembered the sensations that had woken in her when his breath ghosted over the side of her face as they turned and turned in the dance and he held her close.

“I’m looking for a caretaker,” he went on as she faltered, “for my rather large… estate.”

“Adelram Hall, yes,” she agreed.

He stepped closer then, a frown upon his face, and began to circle her, and she could almost feel his eyes on her, moving up and down, taking her in, devouring her with his gaze.

“Yes,” he whispered. “Something, I—”

Then recognition was gone again, and he giggled, trilled, the whole of his upper body wriggling in delight as he rubbed his hands together. “Something special,” he crooned. “You…”

He trailed off as she turned her gaze from him, and back to the blade in the middle of the coals. It was as though it had called to her. Words whispered in her mind, an impulse, a command. Free me.

She stepped forward, instinct warning her that she shouldn’t touch the coals in any way, even though she knew they were long since cold. She leaned down to look properly at the blade, and the carvings upon it, the word she could half read, “…tiltskin,” she whispered.

The imp-that-was-her-intended giggled then, and sang, “The queen will never win the game, for R—”

“Rumplestiltskin,” Belle breathed as she closed her hand around the hilt of the dagger and pulled.

She felt the pulse of energy go through her, as the blue light from the rainbow cast by the rising sun exploded through the clearing. Belle felt herself begin to tumble forward, toward the coals, fear gripping her suddenly as she knew she could no longer avoid the inevitable.

Then, just as she would have touched the cursed place, she felt the strength of an arm around her waist, then another at her shoulders as she was eased upright again, and the words caressed the side of her face in a breath, “Rumplestiltskin is my name.”

“No!” a discordant cry from above the fallen log broke the moment. “What have you done!”

Rumplestiltskin, for now Belle knew the name by which she should call him, released her gently from his embrace, but eased her also behind him.

“Failed,” he said, his voice steady, recognizable to her now. “Failed, failed. You failed.”

The Blue Fairy settled on the ground, in full sized, human form, and addressed, not Rumplestiltskin, but Belle who - unafraid, moved to stand beside the man to whom she was promised.

“Foolish girl!” she snapped. “Do you know what you have done? How many will now suffer at your hand?”

“You don’t know that,” Belle accused, “And from what I understand, equally as many have already suffered by your hand. You send his son from him,” Belle pointed to the coals upon the ground, “tried to cage him in madness by pinning him with this,” she raised the dagger between them, and the fairy shrank back, “into the very place of his torment?”

“Give me the dagger, Belle,” Rumplestiltskin said softly.

“You can’t do that,” Blue warned, “He will enslave you with it,”

“No,” Belle countered, remembering all she had read, and all that Jefferson had told her. “He is a slave to the dagger in anyone else’s hands. It belongs to him, and I mean to return it to him, and to keep the promise that I made.”

“I forbid it!” The Blue Fairy took a step forward then, until Belle brandished the dagger again, this time as one would ordinarily hold a knife for fighting. The fairy froze.

“No one decides me fate but me,” Belle informed her calmly, then turned, and taking the dagger by the blade, offered the hilt to Rumplestiltskin.

“It’s forever, dearie,” he warned, though with such softness as she had ever heard from him since she had met him as Mister Gold in her own world.

“My father, the people, back home… they will all be safe? Cared for?” she asked him.

“You have my word,” Rumplestiltskin said.

“Then you have mine,” Belle told him. “However this,” she gestured with her free hand around them, “plays out, whatever must be done. I will help you find your boy.” 

Rumplestiltskin reached out, and closed his hand around the hilt of the offered blade. As he took it into his possession, the clearing, the fairy, everything dissolved around them in a haze of purple mist, which cleared slowly and she found herself standing in the great hall of a castle. The room, however grand, was simply furnished, with a table, two chairs beside a roaring fireplace, and a great spinning wheel, set upon a nearby dais.

As she wondered at this, she caught sight of herself, her reflection in the glass of a cabinet that stood against the wall, to find herself dressed in the most beautiful of golden gowns. She blinked, and turned to face Rumplestiltskin, to find him smiling at her, similarly dressed in great finery, a blue and silver brocade tunic and britches.

“Care to dance, my dear?” he asked.

“But… we have no music,” she answered in wry amusement, but remembering the time before - the first time they had danced - moved toward him anyway, and closer yet as his arm slid around her, and he took her hand in his.

“Maestro,” he whispered, and from out of the very air itself, came the strains of Chopin, as if he had read her mind, her memory.

Where their hands met she felt as if a tingling passed between them, still softly, but stronger than before, and it rekindled the feeling that fizzled in her lungs, a tenderness and excitement that she would never have expected to feel from so strange a being as was this man - the Dark One, that would be her husband.

Their movements matched the gentle nature of the music, the light piano tones guiding their steps, and as before, she followed him with ease, and with delight. Then the music intensified, moving to a minor key with many crescendos. He tugged her closer, and she held fast to him. The gentle fizzle becoming an ache, a need to be subsumed by the music, by the one that held her, turned with her, pressed her close to move as one, his thighs parting hers to step, to move around the spaciousness of the great hall that still did not feel large enough to contain them, and she became lost in him.

And then…

As if a dream, the power and energy that had possessed her, possessed them both, faded as the music turned again, to fall over them as the gentle patter of rain, washing them both clean, bathing them, blessing them together, and they came slowly to a stop, she breathless, and he…

“I rather fear I forgot myself,” he said, barely above a whisper, repeating the words he had spoken to her once before, but which held so much more meaning now. “Forgive me.”

“Nothing to forgive,” she whispered in return, and pressed a hand to his chest to feel his heart beat strong, fast, but slowing against her fingers. “Rumplestiltskin… I will stay, with you, forever.”

[myheroacademiashorts]

Hold Me Closer

Hiii it’s been a while, guys! Lots of crazy things happening rn, and I hope everyone is inside and at home, safe and sound. Im putting all of my requests on hold just to write this piece for the lovely @bakugou-katsukisgf, who has been feeling kinda down lately. @bakugou-katsukisgf, if you’re reading this, just know that I’ve always loved your work, and never apologize for how you’re feeling! I hope this makes you feel a little bit better. <3

-Jody

Prompt: found here ; Bakugou knows you’ve had a bad day, and despite his infamous explosive attitude, he wants to make sure you know he’ll always be there for you. 

Pairing: Reader x Bakugou Katsuki

Words: 2,880

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

You felt like crap.

You stepped into your dorm room and fell face-first into your bedsheets with a groan, backpack dropping to the ground with arms stiff at your sides as you allowed yourself to just... lay there. You’d had bad days before, sure, but today was just exceptionally terrible. It had started off with you spilling hot tea on yourself during breakfast, successfully staining your school uniform when you were already late for class. It continued to fall downhill from there, up to the point where you ended up staying after school to escape your friend’s questioning over your quiet state, camping out in the corner of the library until the sun began to disappear. Just the memories of the day caused your eyes to prick with tears.

You only lifted your head up from your mattress a few moments later, when your air supply had begun to dwindle, just in time to hear a rough knock on your door. Another groan escaped your lips, and you closed your eyes to pull yourself together. Then you stood, plastering on a smile as you made your way to the closed door. Before opening it, you swiped your hand under your eyes, wiping away any stray tears that had managed to escape down your cheeks. You yanked open the door, mask still in place as you found yourself gazing straight into a pair of familiar ruby eyes.

“Katsuki! What’s up?” Your voice was full of false cheer, and while most would’ve fallen for the act, your boyfriend’s brows furrowed. His attention swept over you quickly but carefully, taking in your stained and wrinkled uniform to your reddened eyes and tensed shoulders. He pursed his lips.

He held out a hand for you to take, while the other burrowed itself into his pant pocket. “C’mon.” He said, voice low and gruff as he glanced away from you. You hesitated before ghosting your fingers over his, and you didn’t get a second chance to think about your decision as he grasped your hand and yanked you down the hallways and away from your bedroom, making sure your door closed before doing so. He held your hand tightly, not sparring a look over his shoulder to ensure you were still following close behind as he led you up a flight of stairs and to his bedroom. Your heart tightened, and nervously you gulped.

He shoved his door open with his free hand, pulling you inside and shutting it behind the two of you. He seemed awkward at first, freezing by the closed door as he looked at you with cheeks dusted pink. He was lucky you were patient, and you stared back at him with tired eyes and a blank expression. After a silent moment, he moved to his closet, facing away from you as he rummaged through its contents with a grumble. He was in his workout clothes, a pair of basketball shorts and a tank top, and a stain of sweat was still fresh on his back. You clasped your hands together, averting your eyes and instead staring down at your chipped nail polish with a grimace. You weren’t sure what he was doing, but you knew you weren’t ready to talk about your feelings from the day. Not yet, at least.

You didn’t hear him turn around and approach you, not until he gently grasped your chin in one hand to force your attention back to him. Your eyes had lingering tears, unshed but present nonetheless, and he sighed before taking your hand in his once more. He didn’t speak this time, but you easily noticed the towels and extra clothes that were tucked under his free arm.

He led you right where you assumed he would, to the showers on the first floor. The two of you stayed quiet for the entire time, not even trying to start a conversation. At the time, you preferred the silence versus any questioning, and your grip on Katsuki’s hand tightened slightly. It earned you a soft squeeze in return, and you noticed Katsuki’s hand was just a little sweaty.

He took both of you into the men’s shower room, turning the lock until it released a satisfying click before moving further into the room. The first thing he did was walk to the first shower and switched on the water, the noise being the only thing within the room. Other than that, it was quiet, meaning the two of you were the only ones in the shower room, and he set the spare clothes and towels on a nearby bench before finally turning his attention to you once more. “We’re taking a shower.” He didn’t leave room for argument, and he stepped forward to loop his arms around you to reach for the clasp of your skirt, easily unclipping the small hook before pulling the zipper down. He smelled faintly of burnt caramel, a scent you had gotten familiar with since dating the hot-headed boy, and you inhaled it softly. It calmed you, as if he were your own personal relaxation candle.

You let him undress you, hands abnormally gentle like before as he slowly discarded your clothes, leaving them in a rumpled pile on the floor. He let his hands drift and linger on your bare back, caressing the skin before unclipping your bra and letting it hit the floor. He pressed a chaste kiss to your cheek; not sexual, but instead full of a very un-Bakugou-like softness as he pulled himself away, allowing you to strip yourself of your remaining underwear and socks. While you finished undressing, he started on himself, moving more quickly than how he treated you as he left his clothes in the same heap as your dirty ones. The shower room was similar to the locker rooms used before and after training, except the curtains were replaced with hazy glass doors and the lockers were a quarter of the size; just large enough to hold the essentials of a bath. You watched Katsuki pull out a few bottles from his locker, shampoo and conditioner being a part of them, before leading you to the now-heated shower.

He moved to let you enter first, and you stepped into the welcoming hot water with a grateful sigh. Immediately your shoulders dropped, and you let the water stream down your spine as you stared at the spot just underneath the showerhead. You heard Katsuki follow close behind, closing the door quietly before coming up closer behind you; close enough that you thought you could feel the heat radiating from his body. His hands glided over your arms, still keeping silent as he let you have a moment, before his voice finally broke through. “Turn around.” Despite being alone, his voice was hushed, and now that you’d had some time to gather yourself and your thoughts, you turned to face your boyfriend. His hands left your skin, one of them moving instead to your face to gently caress your cheek. His eyes were unusually soft, lips still pressed into a tight line as he scanned your face. “I have your favorite shampoo. The one that smells like coconut and shit.”

At that comment, you finally allowed a real smile to bloom on your lips for the first time that day. It was small and weak, but still there. “Aw, aren’t you a sweetie?” You teased, and a darker blush covered the blonde’s cheeks as he glanced away, dropping his hand to his side. Already, you were beginning to feel better, and you moved to grab the body wash from the shelf Katsuki had set it on. “And my body wash, too? Didn’t know you liked smelling like blueberries, babe.”

“Shut it, idiot!” The familiar snarl made your grin only widen further, and you lathered the gel in your hands before swiping them across his chest. “Hey! Cut that shit out!” He yelled, but a mischievous spark glinted in his eyes, showing you his anger was fake. The smell of blueberries and vanilla flooded your sense, and soon the two of you were chatting comfortably, little tidbit comments being thrown back to one another as you cleaned yourself. “Let me wash your hair.” Bakugou interrupted when he saw the familiar bottle in your hand, and you hesitated before handing it to him. He seemed serious to do it, even making sure that there was enough of the shampoo in his hand before barking at you to turn around. He had never offered to wash your hair before, although the two of you showered together often enough. The feeling of his fingers massaging your scalp nearly made you moan, but you bit down the sound and instead leaned further into his touch, humming gently as he worked the shampoo into your (H/C) locks. He rinsed it out, as well, and repeated a similar process with the conditioner, pinching your cheek and playfully biting your shoulder just to hear your shrill giggles instead of the silence. He loved your laugh, not that he had the courage to say it to your face; fighting villains was one thing, but you were an entirely different kind of monster. 

By the time you two had escaped from the shower, your spirits had been dramatically lifted. You dried yourself with the plush towel your boyfriend had brought for you, allowing your eyes to drink up the hard cut of his jaw down to his chiseled abdomen before yanking on the clothes he had brought; a pair of his own sweatpants and a black t-shirt with a skull adorning the front of it. He had grabbed himself a second pair of shorts, not easily as chilled as you, and a white shirt that clung appreciatively to his body.

You practically skipped back to his bedroom, momentarily forgetting about your horrible day as Katsuki followed close behind, dirty clothes already tossed inside of a laundry machine before the two of you made your way back upstairs. You couldn’t see it, but your boyfriend held a grin on his lips as he watched you joyfully bounce back to his room, eyes full of a light that had been missing for most of the day. He wanted to ask you about it, about the blankness of your face during school, but he kept his lips shut. He knew you’d tell him when you were ready. He could wait until then... Maybe. But patience was never one of his strong suits, unfortunately. 

You bounded into his bedroom first, immediately diving into his sheets and snuggling into them. They smelled like Katsuki, a mix of caramel and the musk of a boy that made your head just a little dizzy. You loved it, and buried your face further into the bed to inhale it with a blinding grin. Meanwhile, Katsuki shut the door, leaning against it as he watched you cuddle into his sheets like a puppy laying on the bed for the first time. He couldn’t help but smile, and pushed himself off of the door to sit next to you, leaning his chin in the palm of his hand. “Hey, dumbass, you plan to take up the whole bed or what?”

“Why not? You can sleep on the floor, can’t you?”

He snorted, and unexpectedly stood up to instead wrap his arms around your waist and hoist you from the bed. You squealed, the movement unexpected, but the sound quickly dissolved into giggles as he took your spot instead, leaning on his back and turning you around so you laid on top of him. “There. Much better.” He said in a rough voice, and you snuggled into his neck, pressing a kiss to the tender flesh that hid there. He shivered at the feelings, arms tightening around you, and responded by placing a peck to your still-wet hair. “Alright, let me up. I’ve gotta piss.” You nipped at his shoulder lightly before moving off of him, rolling to the other side and watching as he made his way to the bathroom.

It wasn’t until he shut the door that you found yourself alone once more, and the thoughts and bad factors of earlier came rushing back to you. You frowned. No, you thought to yourself, hands tightening into fists. Stop it. Just enjoy the moment now, dummy. Your argument with yourself was short-lived, and Katsuki quickly joined you back on the bed. A plastic bag was in his hand, and you stared at it in confusion before saying the first thing that popped into your head, which was: “Holy hell, you can pee out snacks?”

A booming, unexpected laugh escaped from Bakugou, and he thrusted the bag into your lap. “No, dumbass. Had to hide them for you. Here.” The bag was full of your favorites, from chocolate candy to chips and frowned-upon sodas that Katsuki always complained about. Your smile was a bit more uneasy, but still present. You knew comfort food when you saw it. “Thanks, blasty.” You said, squeezing his cheek with one hand, which he swatted away with a mere grumble.

He grabbed his television remote, directing it to the blank screen that sat across from his bed. “You like Disney movies, right? With the frilly dresses and talking shit?” He seemed to be talking to himself versus you, and you let him mumble to himself more as he fiddled with the controller, until the familiar golden letters of Beauty and the Beast flashed across the TV screen. Your heart warmed, because this was your favorite movie since it had come out in 2017, and just the fact that Katuski had remembered that fact made you want to smother him in loving kisses. Jeez, this boy really knew how to make a girl feel better.

He forced you to scoot over, propping the two of you upright with the many pillows you liked to hide in his room for yourself. He tucked you beside him, arm hanging around your waist and a blanket draped over your bodies as he stared at the screen, watching as Emma Watson danced across the town. While you might’ve liked the movie, Katsuki couldn’t say he was as big of a fan. He did like the beast though, even if he did get kind of mushy towards the end.

The movie played for some time, and finally you tugged at the bottom of his shirt to gain his attention. “Hey... I’m sorry with how I was today. It was just a really shitty day, and-” You cut yourself off, taking in a deep breath as unexpected tears began to form. You thought you had been done with crying, but apparently not. “Wh-what I mean to say is-”

This time, it was your boyfriend who stopped your words, placing a hand over your mouth with his eyes fixated into a natural glare. “Don’t do that shit.” He started, and used his free hand to pause the movie before continuing. “Don’t ever apologize to me about how you’re feeling, alright? Talk to me about it, but you don’t need to apologize for being sad, baka.” You knew he said the name lovingly, not as an insult, and smiled despite the unshed tears. “You got that?” You nodded your head, and he grunted. “Alright. Good.” He finally removed his hand, instead using it to wipe at a stray tear that had escaped from the corner of your eye. “Hey, don’t cry, dumbass. C’mere.”

He opened his arms wider, accepting you as you fell face-first into his chest as the tears flowed more freely. His arms automatically tightened around your smaller frame, and you fit snugly in between his thighs like you were meant to be there. He didn’t speak, instead resorting to gently rubbing his calloused hands over your back until your cries had subsided into quiet sniffles. “Sorry for causing you an idiot. I didn’t know it was going to make you cry.” It was Katsuki’s own way of teasing, and while it wasn’t very funny, you smiled nonetheless.

“I love you.” You sighed, cuddling further into his brace. He didn’t stiffen up like the first time you had said the three words, instead tightening his hold on you and tilting your head up to his. His lips found yours, soft and warm, and he pulled away more quickly than you would’ve liked. “I love you too, idiot. And even though you’re a dumbass, you’re my dumbass. Don’t you forget it.” You giggled, wiggling enough to reach your arms up and around his neck, lifting yourself up his body and pressing for a longer kiss, one that sent tingles throughout your body.

“Thank you, by the way. For everything.” You didn’t miss the way his ears reddened, or how he averted his gaze from your own as the blush spread to his cheeks. “Any time, babe. Just talk to me next time you feel like shit, okay?” You nodded, moving from on top of him to take back your original spot at his side, and grabbing the unopened bag of candy that sat scattered beside you.

“Alright, are you going to play the movie again? This is, like, the best part.”

“Depends. Are you gonna give me one of those Kit Kats, or what?”

[codegemini]

Rinse, Repeat - Part I

 (( Co-written with @sylaess / @sylaesschasewind . Tagging @argonas / @thefugitivemango​  for character mention))

 ~*~*~

The trees swayed gently in the breeze. She smelled moonflowers faintly, and looked around. This again. This grove. So familiar, it was going to drive her mad! She had to know.  But she didn’t. The void in her memory was a gaping wound she couldn’t get past. 

 Sylaess sighed softly, placing her face in her hands gently. There was no scar pitting the left side of her jaw, no exposed tissue. It was oddly gratifying. But it sealed the knowledge that she was not awake. Most likely. Torghast was a very difficult place to traverse when not plagued with traumas. Her grip on reality was fragile at best.

 “Va’shal dan duentha.”  “...I don’t understand you. Why don’t I understand you?” She fixed the other elf with a stare, trying to puzzle him out but only ending up with a headache. She knew that voice, it brought her comfort. Sadness. Longing.  ~*~*~ A sharp, ragged breath drawn in and the sword slammed into the ground beside her head, narrowly missing.  Oh, shit!  Teeth bared in a voiceless snarl of effort, Sylaess brought her feet up and kicked hard at the empty husk of armor. Saronite screeched across the floor as she slid away a little, clattering back to her feet. The intense throbbing in her skull cinched tighter, trying to force her eyes shut.  Breathe. Walk through it.  The brittle calm settled over her, a ragged safety blanket as she fell back into the warrior mindset. It was getting nearly impossible to draw upon. Half clenched fist, runes flared along her body. An enormous spike of ice crashed up from the floor beneath the guard, impaling the hollow armor and immobilizing it.  The rush of magic fled and she wilted, head falling back a bit.  Get your shit together, girl! Find her, get the hell out. You know the drill. 

 The elf scrabbled up her dropped swords, hunting around for one that had been kicked away. Brought herself into a slow jog up the corridor. She’d made it this far. Again.

 The cages hung over the expanse. Were they floating? Chains were taught from the bottom of each descended into unknown depths, but ups and downs were questionable at best. It was not helpful. But she saw her. The ghastly form of Sinafay.  Sheathed her swords and made one giant leap from the edge of the stairs, teetering the cage over the ominous expanse. “--Ugh--” The impact was as graceful as a rotten fruit being hurled. Syl looped an arm through the bars. “Let’s... Let’s try this again.” Her voice was ragged and worn out. A gravelly toneless thing. The elf started fiddling with the lock. “Unless you have a better idea.”

Sinafay gasped, eyes wide as she leaned back against the far side bars of the cage, both to keep herself from falling over as it swung and to be as far away from this image of Sylaess as she could.

 “WHY do you keep coming back?! Leave me alone!” She growled, “I -know- what this place is! I -know- you are not really her!”

 The lock finally came free. Sylaess let out a breath she hadn’t known she was holding, sagging against the cage, her elbow hooked through the only real support she had. “Seriously, the amount of times I’ve had my ass kicked here? The Jailer picks better people to represent him, I assure you.” The elf grimaced, maneuvering herself to the side so she could kick the door open. Hastily healed slashes, unattended gouges and a myriad of other mostly superficial damage that she just didn’t have the energy to mend up again gave her a very... earthy look. Much like a worn out rag.

 “If you’re going to torture me, just get it over w—“

Sinafay cut herself off, however, as she felt something different about the Kal’dorei. It wasn’t her, per say, but more of what followed her. Spirits… lost spirits. They clung to her… Sinafay frowned, confused. Spirits wouldn’t cling to the jailor’s forces. If anything, they would be repelled��� cowering.

 “Why do the lost follow you?” She asked, curiosity overcoming her panicked state.

  “...They think I’m a good option to get them out of here, but personally, I’ve now got fresh doubts up to my fucking ears. I come back for you because I promised Argonas I’d keep you safe.” Syl shut her eyes a moment. “I failed him.” And he’ll have every damn right to be disappointed, but let’s survive this first. 

Those black eyes seemed to stare off into the expanse of cloudy nothingness a moment, she shook her head. “I’ve got to try to get you out. I...”  Sylaess grimaced again, letting the words just fail. Steeled herself up for the next exertion. Leapt, caught the edge with her chest and her legs swung beneath the platform. Vivid swearing strained as she scrabbled her purchase of the edge, plated hands slipping. Saronite screeching on stone. It all made to ramp up her headache that much more. “Fuck sakes!” 

 A wisp flew wildly about her head. “Would you piss off!” Hanging on by sheer will and gumption, she snarled.  “This is the worst joke I’ve ever been the ass of. Almost.” Wheezed the words, resting her face on the cold stone of the platform, once she had enough grip not to be in perilous threat of falling. “Or at the very least, the worst drug trip I’ve ever been on.” She still dangled over the edge precariously. Hooked a foot finally.

Sinafay’s tail twitched and flickered erratically behind her as she didn’t move from her side of the cage. She kept her suspicious gaze on the struggling elf, internally debating on the validity of her words. She wanted to believe this was really her friend, but how could she be certain.

 “If you are the real Sylaess, then why do you not remember the very event that brought us together as friends? Do you remember Sigil? Draenor? Tanaan? Do you know anything about me other than the fact that I am Argonas’ mate? Why are your eyes like that? What is wrong with you?!”

Sylaess gave a good heave and hauled herself back on top of the platform gracelessly, laying there a moment. So tired. Empty. Debating on how to answer all of that. Breath in, hold, release. She brought herself up to sit on her feet, tucking back her ragged black hair. Drew a hand over her face wearily.  “A long story full of mostly bad decisions.”

 “I don’t remember anything because I sold my memories to an Old God. I remember snippets. Fragments. Worse, nothing makes real sense. No, I’m not sure you’re real either. In fact, I’ve not been sure about reality since falling in with N’zoth. Good news is, he’s dead.”  The abrupt and naked truth of it stung like a raw scrape in cold air. Somehow, hearing it in her own gravelly ruined voice made it all too much. 

 “My eyes are like this because the kaldorei--Tyrande--called upon the Night Warrior after the burning of Tel’drassil. I took the blessing with thousands of other kaldorei. This was before the Old God made an appearance.”  A bitter smirk twisted her face. “And as for what’s wrong with me,” Her gaze finally swept over to Sinafay as she rose. “I don’t think an eternity is enough to cover that one.” She spread her hands slightly, as if surrendering. The silent ‘what do you think now?’ so plainly evident.

Sinafay just… stared, head slowly tilting to the side as it often did when she was struggling to understand something. An awkward silence stretched on between them as she tried to make some sort of sense of everything Sylaess had said, before finally speaking up.

 “Teldrassil… burned? An Old God? Why would—“ 

 No, she didn’t have to ask about the Old God deal, she’d made similar mistakes in the past. At least that explained the missing memories.

 “I… remember a large influx of souls arriving… a lot of them ended up in this tower…”

 She shook her head. There was nothing to be done about that. This was her first time in Torghast, and she didn’t know how to get around at all.

 “My apologies, Sylaess. When we -do- manage to finally escape this place, and I manage to return to Azeroth, I will do all that I can to help get your memories back.”

 She looked at the distance between the cage  and platform.worried her bottom lip.

 “So I take it that, in true Sylaess fashion, you have no idea where we are or how to escape.

 “We’re in a place called Torghast. It’s the worst place in the Shadowlands you could possibly be. Of course.” The elf smiled a bit, superficially. A little refreshed that she wasn’t under extreme scrutiny. Something she shouldn’t have really feared with Sinafay. She knew that. Somehow.  “The halls keep on forever it seems. There’s a lot of levels down, the best we can do is keep trying.” She looked up at the swirling mass of clouds. At least she thought they were clouds. “This tower is the mirror of Icecrown citadel, so to speak. So. As we can’t get up and through to Icecrown, we’ve got to get back to whatever the hell is ground level. There has to be a door.”

 “Shall we?”

~*~*~

[hopelikethemoon]

vacation (Javier x Reader) [SMUT] {MTMF}

Title: vacation Rating: Explicit Length: 4,500 Warnings: Mild Angst (arguments, bickering) and TWO Smut scenes (Rough Sex, Fingerfucking, F Recieving Oral Sex, Handjob, Masturbation, Teasing) Notes: Set after ‘the three of us’ so about September/October 1996. You can find the Maybe Today, Maybe Forever Timeline here.  Summary:  These two idiots go on vacation, have sex and  argue some.

Taglist:  @grapemama​​​​​  @seawhisperer​​​​​ @huliabitch​​​​​ @pedropascalito​​​​​ @rogrsnbarnes​​​​​@thewallpapergoesorido​​​​ @twomoonstwosuns​​​​​ @gooddaykate​​​​​ @livasaurasrex​​​ @ham4arrow​​​​@hiscyarika​​​​​ @plexflexico​​​​​ @readsalot73​​​​​ @hdlynn​​​​​ @lokiaddicted​​​​ @randomness501​​​​@fioccodineveautunnale​​​​​​ @roxypeanut​​​​ @just-add-butter​​​​ @snivellusim​​​ @absurdthirst​

“Not a half-bad view,” You mused as you pulled open the shade, looking out over the balcony at the view from your hotel room. In the distance you could see the park — just as Connie had assured you, you’d be able to see the fireworks from the comfort of your hotel room without having to brave the crowds. 

Javier clicked his tongue against his teeth, “I think it’s a gorgeous view.” You glanced back at him and smirked when you caught the sweeping way his eyes raked over you. “It’s just the truth, baby.” 

You turned away from the window, putting just a little sway in your hips as you approached him. “We don’t have anywhere to be for—“ You glanced at your watch, “Three hours.”

At first, leaving Josie with Connie and Steve had seemed like a daunting task. She had never been anywhere without you since she was born. Javier had actually seemed far more devastated about leaving her with the Murphys than you had and he had spent numerous nights without her in the beginning. But you and Javi hadn’t had a night where it was just the two of you. Three days, just the pair of you, seemed like the perfect remedy. 

Javier was two months into teaching at the university, which occupied his evenings with preparing his transparencies and grading reports. You were balancing a few extra days at the police department, splitting your time between two offices as the city’s new drug policies impacted things differently. Frankly, you both had needed a break since 1993. 

“There’s a lot we could do in three hours,” Javier drawled out, hooking his fingers into the belt loops of your shorts and drawing you in close. 

You tilted your chin upwards, your eyes meeting his with an easy smirk playing over your lips. “Care to share with the class?”

Javier brushed his fingers over your jaw, cradling your cheek as he leaned down to kiss you. It was feather-light at first, before his mouth slanted desperately over yours. One kiss was all it took to stoke a flame of desire in your lower belly.

He dragged his teeth over your bottom lip, before sweeping his tongue out over it. “I plan to see how many times I can make you come.” Javi rasped out, catching the hem of your shirt and drawing it up over your head. 

“Sounds like fun.” You said lowly, tugging his shirt out of his jeans, fingers greedily seeking his bared skin. 

Javier guided you back onto the bed, working your shorts down your hips and tossing them to the floor. He pressed his knee between your thighs as he leaned over you, his mouth claiming yours again. 

You ran your hands up his back, nails scraping lightly over his skin. A groan rose up in the back of his throat, caught between your lips. One hand slid into his hair, tugging at the soft strands as they slipped through your fingers. 

He slid his knee up, pressing it against your already aching core. You rocked your hips, feeling the hardened length of his cock against your leg. “Javi.” You breathed out as you worked at the front of his jeans but he brushed your hands away, catching them and drawing them up over your head. 

“No.”

You whine, grinding against his knee again. You flex your hands in his grasp, arching your back in a vain attempt to get closer to him. “Come on, Javi.”

He dipped down and pressed a kiss to your collarbone, his mustache tickling your skin. “Keep your hands to yourself right now, baby.”

“But it’s hard.” You smirked, moving your leg so you could grind it against his cock. 

Javier shifted lower, keeping you from being able to grind against him anymore. He unclasped your bra, tossing it aside as he started kissing his way down your body. His rough hands grasped at your bras, palming them as his mouth skimmed down your stomach. 

A soft moan escaped you as he peeled your underwear off, lips brushing along your lower belly. His hands abandoned your breasts, instead moving to part your thighs as he settled between them. “Fuck.” He swore as he looked up at you.

“An even better view?” You teased, wiggling your hips as you spread them a little wider for him. 

“You read my mind.” He smirked, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh, his tongue sweeping out over your skin. “So wet.” Javier whispered as he dragged a finger between your slick folds. “Is that all for me?”

“Yes.” You breathed out, your head falling back against the mattress as he pressed his finger into you. It wasn’t enough, but the way he dragged it through you made your breath catch. “Don’t tease, Javi. We only have three hours.” 

He roughly bit at your inner thigh, high enough up that your shorts would hide the mark. “Patience, baby.” He warned you as he pressed a second finger into you, twisting them within you. His thumb brushed over your clit, merely teasing you. 

“You know I’m not good at being patient.” You reminded him, reaching down to drag your fingers through his hair. 

Javier’s teeth pressed into your soft flesh, before soothing the twinge of pain with his tongue. “Didn’t I tell you to keep your hands to yourself?” He circled his thumb over your clit, dragging his fingers in and out of you.

“Fuck off.” You hissed out, bucking your hips pointedly. He grabbed at your hip tightly, pressing you back down against the bed. “Come on, Javi.” You urged, trying to egg him on. 

Javier curved his fingers within you, pressing them against that sweet little spot within you that had pleasure unfurling within you. Your back arched up off the bed and you squirmed as he lowered his mouth to your cunt, his tongue sweeping out over your clit. You pressed your feet into the mattress, fingers gripping at the sheets for support as he forced you over the edge with skilled ease. 

You grabbed at his shoulder, fingernails digging into his skin as he didn’t relent. “Holy shit.” You panted out, the waves of your release refusing to subside as he kept twisting his fingers in and out of you, his lips wrapped around that little bundle of nerves, merciless in his teasing.

He had promised to see how many times he could make you come, after all. 

“Please!” The word came out cracked and broken as a moan escaped from you. You didn’t even know what you were begging for, but you needed it.

Javier drew back, fingers slipping from your trembling core. “I could do that all day, baby.” He whispered, licking his lips as his eyes met yours. He moved back up the bed and laid down beside you, “Just breathe.” 

“Easier,” You swallowed thickly as you tilted your head to look at him. “—said than done.” You reached for his hand, bringing it to your mouth. You wrapped your lips around the fingers he had just had buried within you, dragging your tongue over them.

“Goddamn.” Javier swore, brushing his thumb over your bottom lip as he drew his fingers out of your mouth. “What’d I ever do to deserve you?”

“Still trying to figure that one out.” You teased, nipping at his thumb. “I mean, I still don’t know what I did to get both you and Josie.” You admitted, which was the honest truth. Maybe you hadn’t fucked up as much as Javier had — you certainly never left someone at the altar — but you’d done your fair share of shitty things. 

“You deserve it all, baby.” He grinned at you, brushing your hair back behind your ear. 

You arched a brow, running your hand down his chest, nails scraping over the patch of hair that led lower, “You know what I deserve right now?” 

“Bet I can guess.” Javier bumped his nose against yours, lips lingering close to your lips. “But I wasn’t done.” He slid his hand between your thighs, dragging his fingers up your thigh until they found your still-throbbing center. “One more?”

“You’re going to kill me.” You breathed out, even as you parted your legs for him. “I’d rather die with your cock in me.” You fumbled with the zipper of his jeans, but you managed to get them open enough to slip your hand into them. “How do you want me?” 

Javier groaned as you stroked him through his boxers. “Hands and knees.” He dragged your hand away before he rolled over to get off the bed. He pulled his jeans off, followed by his boxers — his eyes fixed on your face with a heated gaze as he watched you position yourself on the bed. “You look so pretty like that.” 

You rolled your eyes and a short laugh that escaped you. “I could be laying here like a fish and you’d say I was pretty.” You teased him, pushing your hair back over your shoulder as you watched him move back onto the bed. 

“Well, maybe I just think you’re pretty.” He drawled out as he traced his fingers down your spine, grabbing at your hips and pulling you back flush against him. You rocked backwards, grinding against his cock. 

“I’m glad I still do it for you,” You taunted him and it worked. Javier wrapped his arm around your middle, hauling you back against his chest. You loved it when he was rough with you. “Fuck.” 

Javier reached down between you, guiding his cock into you. You gasped, eyes clenching closed as you sank back against his chest. He roughly grasped at your breast, his thumb dragging over the pebbled peak of your nipple. 

You reached around behind you, fingers dragging through his hair, settling as they curled around the back of his neck. “Fuck. Fuck.” You moved with him as he started to roll his hips. You had almost forgotten how good it could be when you weren’t hyper fixating on doing everything right to get pregnant. Not that it had been bad — but scheduling out the perfect time to have sex was a lot less fun than this. 

“You feel so fucking good baby,” Javier breathed out close to your ear, before he used your hair to guide you forward. You grabbed at the blankets beneath you for support as he started to pick up the pace of his movements. Every snap of his hips had your lips parting with a silent cry. 

You were already so sensitive, strung out from the first two orgasms he’d pulled from you — you were practically helpless to the third that washed over you. Your body clenched at him, pulsing around him every time he slammed into you. The grip he had in your hair only added to your pleasure, the twinge of pain mixing with the intense pleasure coursing through you.

His name was the only sound that made sense as your back arched and you shattered around him. Javier followed right behind you, his pace faltering before he pressed into you and you felt him spill within you. 

Your legs gave out on you and you ended up face down on the mattress with Javier draped atop you. “You’ve gone and killed me, Javi.” You mumbled, turning your face to the side so your cheek was resting against the mattress. He pressed his face into the crook of your neck and laughed. “Don’t! I’m not kidding.” 

Javier lightly scraped his teeth over your shoulder. “Then I’ve accomplished my mission.” He curled his arm around your waist and pulled you with him as he rolled onto his side. 

You shoved him playfully in the chest, before he curled in close to him, “I love you.” You whispered, pressing a kiss to his chest. 

“I love you too baby.” He drawled out as he kissed the top of your head, curling his arm around you possessively. “You excited about tomorrow?”

“Mhm.” You hummed as you nodded your head. 

 ———

“I hope that picture turns out. Josie would’ve lost her mind seeing that animatronic dinosaur.” Javier remarked as he adjusted the camera where it sat against his chest. “You have the bag, right?”

You shot him a look over the edge of the program you were looking at, “Yes, Javier I have the bag.” It was the third time he’d asked you in less than twenty minutes. “Do you want to eat over in Mexico? The Cantina de San Angel sounds nice.” You pointed it out on the map to him. “Or do you want to try another country? We could try poutine in Canada.” 

Javier arched a brow, “I don’t know if I trust them to pull off Mexican food well.”

“Do you want to try poutine then?” You questioned. 

“What else is there?”

You sighed heavily and shielded your eyes from the sun as you looked down at the map again, “We could eat in China. We both like Chinese food. We can find something we’ll both like.” 

Javier squinted as he looked down at the page, “What about that place?” 

You gave him a droll look, “The Rose and Crown? Really? Pub food?” 

“I’m hot and I could really use a beer right now.” Javier shrugged, tucking his hands into his pockets. 

“Then let's stop in and get a beer and then we can eat somewhere else.” 

“We can just eat there, I’m sure they have good food.” 

You pressed your tongue to the inside of your cheek as you glared at him. Could you get away with murder in the middle of Epcot? Would Mickey Mouse leap out of somewhere to distract from the bloodshed. “Fine.” You shoved the map back into your crossbody and started in the direction of the World Showcase. 

Javier must’ve finally realized he’d pissed you off because he caught a hold of your arm and pulled you back towards him, “Did you want to eat somewhere else, baby?”

You shook your arm loose of his hold, rolling your eyes. “No, it’s fine. We can’t eat at the Rose.” 

“You keep saying ‘fine’.” Javier pointed out. “That’s bit me in the ass before.” 

“Oh, really?”

“Mhm.” He gave you a look, shoulders sagging. “Where do you want to eat?” 

“I don’t care.” You said dryly, pressing your lips together firmly as you stared him down. Despite years of working in the field with Javier and years of living with him — vacation had proved that neither of you approached vacation the same way. He wandered aimlessly through the park, whereas you’d gone over the maps and programs to plot out your main interests. 

“You say that, but I know you care.” 

You clenched your jaw together tightly. “You’re driving me crazy.” 

He huffed, “Yeah, well you haven’t been a ray of sunshine yourself.” 

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes again. “Let’s just go eat.” 

“Where?”

“I don’t care anymore.” 

“What was the name of the place in Mexico?”

You exhaled heavily, resisting the urge to snap. “We’ll just eat at the Rose.” 

Javier swept his fingers through his hair, looking away from you then. “We don’t have to.” 

“Javi.” You stepped close to him, tilting your head as you looked up at him. “I really don’t want to fight with you.” You reached up and gently brushed your fingers against his cheek, before grasping his jaw as you held his gaze. “If you ask me about the bag one more time…” 

Javier swallowed thickly. “I won’t.” 

“We can have a beer at the Wine & Food Festival.” You told him, tracing your tongue over your bottom lip as you kept your eyes locked on his. “I want food.” 

He nodded his head slowly, “Whatever you want, baby.” 

“I love you.” You reminded him with a warm smile. “But you and I are approaching this whole vacation thing from two very different angles.” 

“I know.” Javi sighed, reaching down to take your hand into his. “I didn’t expect you to plan everything out. I thought we’d just wing it.”

“Did we ever wing a single mission we went on together?”

He clicked his tongue against his teeth and shook his head. “No. But do you consider this a mission?”

“Yeah.” You shrugged. “We have an objective, a game plan, variables” 

“Baby, we’re not at work.” He laughed. “Can’t believe I’m the one reminding you that you can have fun.” 

You squeezed his hand, “I just don’t want to miss out on anything. Who knows when we’ll get back here.”

“We do live in Florida. We can come back whenever.”  

“And we could have two kids in tow.” 

Javier rocked his jaw, “Are you still thinking about that?”

“Constantly.” You sighed. “Every time we walk past a family with a baby.”

“Me too.” He admitted. Javier leaned down and kissed you softly. “Let’s go to Mexico and check out how wildly inaccurate the food is.” He brought your hand to his lips and kissed each knuckle. “Do you have the bag?”

You shoved him in the chest, but you couldn’t help but laugh. “You are such a jackass.” 

“And you love me for it.” 

“Sad but true.” You deadpanned, before you rose up on your toes to press another kiss to his lips. “Beer?” 

“Beer.” 

You held the bag up in between the two of you and shook it. “And I have this.” You couldn’t blame Javier for being so obsessive about the bag. He’d promised Josie that he’d find her a dinosaur and they’d found one. You kind of regretted not having Josie with you — but the thought of the added stress that came along with her made your skin crawl. Javier was more than enough work. 

And you definitely couldn’t do all the things you wanted to do to him later if you had Josie with you. Connie had been smart to suggest that you guys needed a vacation. It was the first time you’d been truly alone with Javier since the start of your relationship. 

 ——

 After the success of the lingerie you’d purchased for your first date with Javier, you splurged on another set especially for vacation. Not to mention it was basically your anniversary, of sorts. In a few days it would be four years since the fateful night at the bar. Sure, it wasn’t for another three months before you both figured your shit out — but it was the night that started it all. 

You had never really been the lingerie type, but the way the lace felt where it crossed against your skin made you feel sexier than you had any right to be. 

The rest of the day had been fun. Mexico was unsurprisingly a bit of a caricature, which had set Javi off on an hour-long rant — which you fully agreed with. Epcot was exciting; new technology, glimpses into what the future might hold. And you both tried to lay off annoying the shit out of each other. 

After watching the fireworks from the comfort of your hotel room, Javier had gone to take a shower which gave you ample time to change into your lingerie and freshen up. 

You waited for him, lounging back on the white sheets, fingers trailing over the texture of the lace. You shivered a little as you lit upon a particularly sensitive patch of skin on your lower belly, before idly reaching your hand down between your legs.

Little finger-shaped bruises dotted your hips and thighs from yesterday. You loved it when Javier got rough with you — it was typically few and far between, but you could always coax it out of him. 

A soft moan escaped your lips as you dragged your fingers over the crotch of the lace panties, revealing just how slick you were with anticipation. You palmed your breast through the lace, scraping your nail over your hardened nipple. 

“Starting without me?” Javier quipped as he stepped out of the bathroom with his towel sling around his hips.

“Hi.” You breathed out as you leaned up on your elbows to look down at him. “I didn’t plan to.” You told him, spreading your legs to give him a better view of the way you were brushing your fingers over yourself through the lace. “I started thinking about yesterday.”

“Yeah?”

You bit down on your bottom lip and nodded. “And as much fun as that was… I have other plans for today.” You closed your legs and set up, tucking them beneath you. “Come here.” You patted the bed beside you.

Javier dragged his fingers through his damp hair, discarding his towel as he joined you on the bed. “What do you have in mind?”

“You drove me crazy today.” You told him as you brushed your fingers over the ‘V’ of his hip bones. “And I thought… maybe I should drive Javi crazy.”

He swallowed thickly. “How so?”

You scraped your nails through the soft patch of hair that led downwards, fingers slowly wrapping around the base of his hardening cock. “I thought you might enjoy being teased… I know I will.” You dragged your hand over his length. “I don’t know if you will.”

Javier licked his lips as he looked at you, his desire as evident in his gaze as it was in his hardening cock. “Then why don’t you do something we’ll both enjoy?” 

You leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to his lips, lingering as you spoke to him. “Do you not enjoy this?” You questioned, sitting back and gesturing to yourself with the hand you had been stroking him with. 

“Baby.”

You moved to straddle him, careful not to sit where he wanted you. Instead sitting on his thighs so you could curl your fingers around his cock again. “You know you’re enjoying this, Javi.” You smirked up at him.

His hips lifted up off the bed again, “Is this how you work your frustrations out now?” Javier questioned; 

“Oh, yes.” You twisted your fist over him, watching the way his expression faltered and his eyes fell closed. “You look so pretty, Javi.” You taunted. 

He caught your wrist, “Fuck off.”

You couldn’t resist. You started to get off him, smiling sweetly at him. “Alright.” 

He grabbed your hips and dragged you back down, this time pulling you down against his cock.

“So,” You started as you leaned forward and traced your finger over his nose. “Pretty.”

Javier surged up and caught your mouth, fingers curling around the back of your head as he kissed you like his life depended upon it. If there was any man in the world worth burning your entire career to the ground for — he had to kiss like this. Four years ago a kiss like that had sparked a fire that had yet to be extinguished. 

You rocked your hips against him as you met his desire with the desperation of your own. Your fingers trailed down the column of his throat, your thumb brushing over his Adam’s apple.

His fingers found the tie at your hip, making quick work of the scrap of fabric that separated the two of you. 

“Javi.” You breathed out against his lips as you rose up on your knees, slowly lowering yourself onto his cock. 

“Fuck, baby.” He hissed, dragging his teeth over your bottom lip as he pulled you down against his chest and thrust up into you.

The angle felt like fucking heaven. Every time he ground against you, it hit all the right spots. “Close.” You warned him, feeling the way your body was already tightening, ready to snap.

He ran his hands down your back, grabbing at your ass to hold you steady as he rocked into you, driving clear over the edge. A strangled cry escaped him and he kept wildly rocking his hips beneath you until he found his own release. 

“I had plans…” You laughed breathlessly as you slumped atop him, still coasting through the flow of your releases 

“Yeah?” Javier snorted out a laugh. “What was it?

 You pressed your cheek against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. “Ask me when my brain isn’t blissed out.”

It was nice to forget. It was nice to accept that things didn’t always go as planned. But your mind still wandered back to the afternoon — to the way Javier’s face lit up when the baby in line in front of you had taken an interest in him. He tried not to bring it up. You knew he was trying to protect you in his own way. He knew how defeated you felt. 

“Maybe we could get a dog.”

Javier wrapped his arms around you, “What are you talking about, baby?”

“If we can't have another baby, maybe we could get a dog. Josie would love it.” 

He gave your side a squeeze, “We could…” Javier pressed a kiss to your shoulder. “I still think…” He sighed. “I’m not ready to give up hope.”

“I know.” You tilted your head to look at him, “I love you.” 

Javier ran his hand up the length of your back, “I love you too.” He played his fingers through your hair, his eyes searching yours. “I’m sorry if I was an ass today.”

You laughed and shook your head. “You’re always an ass, but it’s fine.” You moved to roll onto the bed beside him, burrowing under the covers. “This is the first time it’s ever just been us.” 

“We have been alone before.” He pointed out as he pulled back the covers and joined you beneath them. 

“And we were usually at each other’s throats.” You reminded him, curling into his side. “So today wasn’t a surprise.” You curled your arm around him, resting your head on his shoulder. “Can you believe it’s been four years?” 

Javi took your hand into his and interlaced your fingers, “It’s fucking insane.” He shook his head. “The longest I’ve ever been with someone.” 

“Me too.” You squeezed his hand, rubbing your thumb over the back of it. “Do you ever regret it?”

“Regret us?” You nodded. “Fuck, no.” Javier breathed out, dragging his hand over his face before he looked at you with an arched brow, “Do you?”

“No.” You smiled at him. “You and Josie are my whole world.” You couldn’t even picture a life without them. It would’ve been a lot bleaker. Would you still be in Colombia? It wasn’t as though there was much upward mobility for you there. Would Javier have left?

You hated even thinking about what could have happened. What did happen wasn’t perfect, but it was your brand of perfect with Javier. If he wasn’t willing to fully give up hope that there was still a chance after six months — then you wouldn’t either. 

[wreckofawriter]

Never Forget

Pairing: Sirius Black x reader

Word Count: 3,406

Warnings: None? Swearing?

Request: hello~ thank you so much for responding to my request, its amazing and i dont mind at att that u responded a little later. so, if u dont mind too, could you pretty please do a sirius x reader when sirius escapes from Azkaban and when Remus come to see him brings y/n with him (they were fiances) and he wanted to hug her or somethin’ she looks werid at him and ask “ dude, i know you from somewhere? “ and sirius is shock that she forget him after all and y/n starts laughing and hugs him so tight and tells him how much he missed him and that she could never forget him. bassicaly a lot of fluff? thank you 🥺❤️

A/n: Sorry this took so long to come out! I hope you like it!

  You had never considered yourself a vengeful person. In fact you found yourself quite the opposite. You had always been kind, kind to those who were kind to you and kind to those who weren’t. You had never insulted someone back or got someone in trouble on purpose, you had helped with some pranks, but nothing too harsh, you never, ever helped pull one on Snape, no matter how many names he called you or dirty tricks he pulled. You knew he was only doing because of your boyfriend anyway.

         Yes you the sweetheart of hogwarts was dating the Sirius Black. You weren't quite sure how it happened, it was like you were suddenly submerged in a pool of minty breath, leather jackets and musky cologne. And you loved it. By age 14 you were madly in love with him, but unlike every other girl in hogwarts Sirius actually began to return your feelings. Not to say he admitted it right away, hell it took Sirius two years of denial and eleven months of fear before he finally asked you out. You had accepted, but not without hesitation, he had after all been rumored to have slept with half the school. 

Surprisingly to everyone, even the gryffindor's best friends, Sirius had stayed completely and utterly loyal. He barely even looked at other girls, becoming oblivious to the flirtatious attempts they threw at him. 

Sirius became the best boyfriend you could ask for. He did everything for you. He would buy you gifts that were far too expensive, showering you affection, help you with anything and everything, for the first time in his life he truly felt love and he wouldn't have given it away for anything, let alone risk it with his own mistakes. 

It was no surprise to anyone when you moved in together after Hogwarts, your parents complained about it being too early but you managed to keep them docile. You also joined the Order of the Phoenix and was the maid of honor at James and Lily's wedding. You even received a ring of your own from a blushing nervous wreck of Sirius, a ring which you happily accepted. 

Your seemingly perfect life was shattered only a month before your wedding. 

You remembered the day clearer than you remembered most. You had been cooking, your y/h/c hair was put up in a disgusting excuse for a bun, the short blue skirt you were wearing paired with an oversized david bowie t-shirt that wasn't yours was covered by an already stained white apron that read ‘kiss the chef’ in red looping letters. The room had been full of steam, the scent of curry and cumin thick in your nose. You had a bad habit of eating dinner late at night, something developed because of the wacky schedule your job held. You had been waiting for Sirius to come back. 

You jumped a bit at the sound of your door slamming open. Harsh footsteps echoed through the hall, your eyes widened slightly. 

"Siri? Are you a-" your sentence dropped to the floor when he stumbled into your view. His hair was a tangled mess, his creamy skin broken in a harsh cut on his left cheek. His lips were parted slightly, he was breathing heavily. But the thing that struck you most were his eyes. The stormy grey was rimmed with red, irises tinted pink, a supernatural gloss making them shine unnaturally. The looked broken. They hold an impossibly heavy weight, like the world had suddenly crashed upon them. 

"James is dead." He croaked, his voice raged and breaking.

You dropped the pan that you were holding, its contents scattering the ground. "W-what?" 

"Lily too." Silver drops shimmered lightly down his face. 

You felt tears sting your eyes, your vision blurring, "What about-" your voice fell short in a broken cry.

"He's alive, but I don't know what's going to happen." He sobbed rushing towards you and collapsing into your arms. 

"We'll get him, right?" You spoke so softly and delicately, Sirius found the need to stop his breathing to keep you from shattering. 

"Y/n, they were sold out." He clutched you desperately shaking. 

"What?" Your brain simply couldn't process all this information. 

"They think I did it. Everyone thinks I told him where they were." His voice was so raw with fear it was unrecognizable. 

You just stood there stunned tears clinging to the inside of your eyelids as you felt your heart smash to pieces. 

"They think I did it, but I didn't." He sobbed, "Peter did, I tried to fight him b-b-but now everyone thinks I killed him too, and he-he's alive and they are coming to get me." Tears began to wet your shoulder. 

You were too stunned to speak. The feeling of absolute terror and rage swept you. 

"They're gonna take me to Azkaban y/n/n." He looked up at you and your heart shattered. He was broken, utterly and bitterly broken. 

You felt your already shattered heart clench in protest, begging you to look away from this train wreck of a man before it was hurt anymore. You let out a choked sigh. Before grabbing Sirius neck and slamming your lips roughly on to yours.

His lips were chapped and salty, tasting of blood and tears. You felt his shaking hands wrap around your waist as his tongue slipped past your lips. 

You reluctantly pulled away from the kiss, lungs burning dully. You felt your heart stop when you looked at him. Even completely destroyed in front of you it was impossible to ignore his beauty. His cheeks dusted a light pin, eyes blotchy and red, making the grey storms that lurked there brighten with a melancholy light. He remind you of autumn leaves, he was so pretty just before he fell. You pulled him back into your secure embrace, your heart thumping loudly. You led your hands up his back resting them on his shoulders and tugging him towards you. You felt him nuzzle into your neck, inhaling sharply, attempting to engrave the scent of your shampoo in his head. His hands slid to your lower back, resting on the helm of your skirt as he shook violently. 

“I love you.” You whispered through a thick wave of silent tears. You didn't let your voice break, too many things in that room had already been broken. “I love you so much, and everything is going to be okay. Its gonna be okay.” 

And that's how you stayed, standing in the middle of a steamy kitchen, in the smell of curry and cumin, sauce burning in a saucepan on the stove, half sauteed vegetables littered around you like strange confetti. You repeated the last four words you spoke over and over again until you weren't sure who you were trying to convince. You stood like that when you heard loud rumbling footsteps come crashing to your door. You stayed like that as the chant of your impending doom continued up the stairs. The door bursting open. Four Arours came into the small room. 

“Ma’m step away from him.” Spoke one of them.

“Sirius Orin Black you are under the arrest for the murder of Peter Pettigrew.” A young woman said. 

You could no longer hide your tears as you shook with wails, tugging him closer to you. “I love you y/n.” He spoke quietly into your ear. “I love you so much.” 

“I know,” You cried, “I love you too.” 

Just as you finished your sentence you were ripped from his grasp. You struggled, delivering a harsh kick to the crotch of the man who held you. He fell to the ground with a groan as you scrambled back towards Sirius. Your wrist was snatched by a different Arour when you just millimeters from him. You spun towards the ground at the sudden gasp and landed with a harsh thump, as soft whimper escaping your throat. 

“Don’t you dare touch her!” Sirius hollard Struggling with the two men holding him as he glared at the women who had dragged you to the ground, were she now also lay. One of the men raised his wand whispering ‘crusio’ Sirius let out a painful scream as he began to write in their grip,

Your vision went red. You landed your foot harshly onto the women Aruors face with a crunch. She shrieked as you darted towards the man holding his wand with a fiery rage. When you reached him you slammed your fist into his face with such force you felt your nails price the skin of your palm. He stumbled backward hand instinctively flying to his jaw, dropping his wand. You snatched the wand from the air and aimed it at second man prepared to unleash hell but before you could utter a spell. You heard a loud yell.

“Stupify!” 

You flew across the room; flying straight in to your china cabinet. You felt your head thunk loudly on something as glass shattered around you. Your back felt like a pincushion, the needles of glass lodged into it. Your vision danced as you felt blood seep down your cheek.

“You fuckers!” The voice sounded so distant, like it was deep underwater, “She didn't do anything, you worthless sacks of shit!” 

“Siri?” you quietly mumbled quietly and suddenly your vision went black. 

You had awoken in a hospital, eyes fluttering open to fluorescent lights. The strong smell of medication and sickness made you want to gag. Suddenly the moments before your world fell, came rushing back to you in a sick wave. You sat up quickly gasping as you felt a searing pain in your lower back.

“Be careful, wouldn't want you to rip out those stitches.” 

“Sirius?’ You asked excitedly. But soon your vision straightened and your eyes locked with a pair of hazel.

“Hey y/n/n.” Remus sighed, his voice strained. He looked terrible, his eyes bloodshot. Dark circles making his face appear sunken. The bright scars on his face blending with his pale complexion. 

“Remus where's Sirius?” you asked. Maybe it was all a dream.

Remus felt tears climb slowly up to his eyes, he gasped for air as if he was being strangled, “None of us saw it coming y/n. I didn't expect you to.” 

You let out a throttle whimper, “He didn't do it Re. I know he didn't. He would never hurt Peter orJames or Lily or Harry.” You gasped. “Harry?”

“You’re getting him,” Remus spoke attempting a smile that turned to a grimace. 

“Where is he now?” You could feel tears seeping down your right cheek but, but not your left. 

“Your house with your parents.” Remus respond as he watched you slowly raise your hand to the bandage just below your lf eye, now damp with salt. “From the china cabinet, your lucky you didn't lose your eye.” 

“Who were those Arours. I’m going to get them fired.” You growled lowly.

“I don’t know y/n but-”

“They used an unforgivable curse on Sirius."  You explained urgently to the man sitting beside you.

Remus cringed as you spoke his name. “Y/n. He was being arrested for murder, they can use whatever force necessary.”

“But it wasn’t necessary!” you cried out suddenly.

“Y/n/n, I don’t really think that’s gonna hold up in court. I mean it would be the word of four respectable Aurors, three of which you banged up pretty bad apparently, verses the confused and delirious fiance of a murderer.” Remus explained slowly as if he were talking to a child. 

You felt blood rush to your cheeks as a dull ache that reminded you slightly of hunger, lodged into your heart. “Stop calling him that.” Your voice was dark and dangerous, for a split second, Remus was completely and utterly terrified of you. 

“Y/n you’re going to have to come to terms with it eventually.” He sighed, his voice holding the disappointment of a mother scolding her child. 

“He didn’t do it, Remus!” You shouted, “How can you possibly believe that-that Sirius would do anything to ever hurt James, hurt Lily, hut Harry? Do you really think that he would do that. Do you truly think that low of him?” 

Each word you spoke was like a knife thrusting into his heart, “Y/n, you know how his parents were, how his brother was, how his whole family was. They had a stronger hold on him than he would ever care to admit, he was a lost cause.” 

“Fuck you, Remus.” You spat, “He changed and you know it. He wasn’t like them. And if you truly believe that he did it, you clearly didn’t know him at all.”

“Y/n-”

“No. You are just using your brain. Your stupid logical brain and you only looked at the evidence. Your not looking at the fact that Sirius loved James. He was like a brother to him. No, he was a brother to him. He saved him. And if you think that Sirius would ever do anything to hurt James, Lily or their son, get the fuck away from me.” 

The werewolf opened his mouth to speak but before he could utter a word you cut in. 

“I said get out.” 

He didn’t bother arguing with you. He could see the pain and misery that had consumed you. You were going to need time. You would come around eventually. 

You never did. 

The first year was the worst. The glances, the whispers, the points, the overwhelming sense of pity that made you just about want to drown. The only thing that kept you going was Harry. You had to stay sane, for him. If Harry wasn’t yours you would have gone crazy for sure, maybe ending up in Azkaban right next to your fiance. But you kept a straight face. And you pretended to accept what everyone else seemed to believe to be a fact. 

You continued in the Order but it soon trickled out as Voldemort became less and less relevant. Once you were done with the Oder you got a job as a lawyer in a small law firm. No one at the firm was quite sure how, but you almost had a magical way of getting witnesses to confess directly on the stand. 

You detach yourself from the magical world, know that soon you would have to plunge back into it with Harry soon enough. The years sped by, and soon enough you were taking Harry to platform 9 ¾. You damn near through up as you watched Harry walk onto that platform, images of a boy who had pulled your braids and helped you with Defense Against the Dark Arts years before flashed through your mind. It didn’t help that a young girl who impeccably resembled Lily kept looking your way. 

By Harry’s third year you were heading to Hogwarts every other weekend to watch his quidditch matches. He was better than James. You thought of James and Lily often. Harry looked like James, but his eyes. His eyes would always be Lily. You only dared to think of Sirius in the deep of the night. When it was so dark that you couldn't see your hand in front of your face. So late you could convince yourself it was a dream. There was only one person who you kept in your mind constantly. 

Peter Pettigrew.

You knew he was alive. You knew he was somewhere out there. You knew that he had murdered his best friends. You knew he was the reason Sirius was in jail. And you knew you were going to kill him. 

You never spoke of Peter but your mind was clouded by red visions of him. 

You had developed an unexplainable rage towards rats though. Well unexplainable to most. 

But you had finally figured you how to live your life. You had finally mastered the act of pretending when the headline broke. 

When you heard Sirius had escaped you fainted. Harry had shown you the paper and you had crashed straight to the ground. Not but a day later your house was swarming with Aurors. Another thing you seemed to hate beyond a reasonable amount. 

After the people you referred to as vultures left you had met up with Remus, who seemed convinced that Sirius was attempting to kill Harry. You had wanted to slap him. But you swallowed the ever-growing ball of hate and nodded along like a simple-minded bobblehead someone had just flicked. 

You knew you were being watched, you could see their eyes everywhere, following your every move. You kept quiet silently praying Sirius has lost his dumbass energy in jail and had enough sense to stay away from you. He did. 

Reus had called you at 8:00 at night. “Y/n. You need to come here right now.” his voice was so desperate that you couldn’t refuse.

“Where to?” Your voice was a hushed whisper. 

“You know the place we used to camp as kids? James would always try to scare you and always end up getting punched in the face.” 

“Of course. How could I forget?” You giggled slightly the memory of campfires and smores, the feeling a leather jacket that was always wrapped around your shoulder. “I’ll see you in five.”

You once again filled your head with images of that small clearing, the large tree to the right side that you would always try (and fail) to climb. The circle of stumps you had dragged over as James harassed Lily. The scent of pine always so strong and fresh.  And then you opened your eyes and you were there. 

The stumps were decaying into the ground, moss covering them like a blanket of green. Dusk was setting in and the world was growing dark. You could see the lights of Hogwarts in the distance. You glanced up your eyes landing on the one star that shone brightly in the heavy grey sky. 

“Sirius.” You mumbled to yourself. The name rolling off you tongue so easily it hurt. 

“Y/n!” Remis ran towards you his eyes wide with a mixture of panic and excitement.

You turned towards him whipping your hair around. For a second you could have sworn your name had fallen out of someone else’s lips. 

“We have to go. Come on.” 

You followed obediently until you reached the outskirts of the forest. 

Remus stopped suddenly running back to face you. “You have to change.” 

“Change?” you asked. He nodded expectantly. Suddenly you remembered. “But Re I haven’t-” 

“You need to.” 

You sighed closing your eyes and intaking a sharp breath. You felt yourself shrink and grow a fur coat until when you opened your eyes you were looking at Remus’ knees. 

The werewolf smiled down at the pretty black dog below him. You smiled wolfishly at him flashing a pair of sharp k-9 fangs. He just chuckled before sprinting through the grounds. 

You followed easily jogging beside the man. When you reached the whomping willow you wait for Rums to pull his trick before darting into the small cave at its trunk. 

As the cavern began to open up you switched back, happy to be walking on two legs again. Remus soon caught up with you as you entered the shrieking shack. 

There he was, his back turned, hair a frizzy mess you almost giggled childishly at. You felt your heart soar to your throat.

“Ah, Moony, took you lon-” His sentence dropped. As he turned. His eyes locking with yours as you struggled to keep a straight face. Sirius’ eyes widened mouth dropping. “Oh my god.” 

He took two steps toward you, so hesitant and careful, as if moving any faster would cause you to bolt. “Y/n?” his voice was broken. 

“I’m sorry?” You spoke holding back a shit-eating grin, “Do I know you from somewhere?”

His face crumpled and you felt a wave of guilt was over you. He stumbled backward stuttering for words. His mind spinning.

Finally, you broke into a smile, “I’m only kidding Siri.” you giggled, only seconds after you finished your sentence you felt your body collide with his.

His arms wrapped around you so tight you felt your breath squeezed form you lungs. Your heart raced as you nuzzled closer to the man, you felt tears prick your eyes, “I could never forget you.”

Taglist: @accio-rogers @roslea @k3nz-doodl3 @songforhema

[tempest-toss]

“Recap” into teaser

[[Ozzie here! Just writing this author’s note to say that I’m really glad that this is finally done! It took three months (mostly procrastination) but it’s here! And if you’re wondering, it’s being posted here on the Tempest blog first because it is considered lore for Tempest. Before we begin I would like to say a few things:

1) The writing style is weird because it’s written in a recap sort of way 2) The writing style seems to switch partway through as it does start to lead into a teaser-sort of style near the end. Apologies for the weird switch, but it would’ve been harder to write if I had to stick to one style for this. 3) There are Content/trigger warnings including: mentions of blood/gore, death, mentions of suicide. If there’s more, please let me know so I can properly tag it.  --Ozzie]]

Sapphire woke up in a chamber. It was outfitted with a sink, a mirror, a bunk bed, and a metal door locked, needing a keycard. After getting herself familiar with her new surroundings, the room started to flood from a sudden pipe burst. With quick thinking, she looked around the room and managed to procure the keycard for her door. She quickly exited and shut the door. As she began to look around the new hallway she was in, seven more doors near her opened, and out walked people she recognized immediately: Bandage, Rewind, Neon, Sprockets, Goggles, Clack, and Pixel, code-named agents that worked alongside her for the MTF unit Omicron-5. The quick breather of reassurance that they got from meeting each other soon ended as Goggles pointed out that water was quickly filling the hall behind them. That was all they needed to bolt forward.

 They quickly found stairs and ran up them until there were no more stairs to use. A quick look revealed that they were at a level that opened up into a wide floor. Just as they were reaching the end of the stairs, they heard a commotion from up above. A quick look-up confirmed that there was a secondary set of stairs not attached to the ones they were on. Down from the secondary stairs arrived seven more people. It didn’t take long for it to be obvious that they were from GOIs.

The first ones to introduce themselves were an Alexylva student by the name of Gardenia Meadowood, and a Serpent’s Hand scholar by the name of Morty Aeron. Specializers in botany and embalming, these two were the first to introduce themselves to Sapphire and the others and were the only ones to not have any real immediate identifiers (Morty did have a snake tattoo that reached to his hand, but it was mostly obscured by his sleeves.)

The remaining five were easy to associate with a GOI considering they had their logos and/or markings on open display. Two of them, Iouli Thomaie and Vassilis Admetos, were Sarkites, easily identifiable thanks to their tattoos. Two other young men were members of the GOC, according to the picture they wore along with their ID badges, which identified them as Benny Smith and Jason Snike. The remaining three were a father, mother, and daughter trio all bearing the Insurgency’s logo on their matching hoodies; they identified as Blake, Cheryl, and Tina. Shortly after introductions were made, a part of the wall collapsed, revealing a young man who would identify as Jeremy Fairfield, a secretary for Dr. Wondertainment. 

After all, introductions were given (again), a voice was heard through speakers in the room. The voice identified themselves as “The Gamemaster'' and said that the eighteen of them were going to participate in a game of life and death. They were instructed to go through special numbered doors via numbered bracelets that they wore (something they didn’t realize they were even wearing), and that they could escape if they left through a door marked with a nine. They could only enter a numbered door if the digital root input equaled the door’s number; furthermore, the minimum number of people required to open a door was six, and the maximum was ten. When opened, the door would remain open for nine seconds, before closing on its own. Once the inputees entered through their door, they would have 81 seconds to find the deactivation panel. If they find it, they have to input their numbers and the countdown would end. If they didn’t find the panel, didn’t all input themselves, or if at least one person stayed behind outside of the numbered door, then those that were beyond the door would explode from bombs placed in their stomachs. The Gamemaster dropped two last bits of important info. Firstly, this game is timed. All players have nine hours to escape. Second, the transmitters that connect to their bombs are in their bracelets. The only way to get your bracelet off is to either escape or if your heart ceases beating. He then wished everyone good luck before the speakers signaled that they had been disconnected.

The eighteen began to talk amongst themselves. “What is going on?” “Why was I selected for this nightmarish game?” “We have BOMBS in our guts!?” Sapphire gave a sharp whistle, immediately quieting everyone. With the chatter quieted, and a deep breath taken, the conversation resumed, but now with a more logical focus. The first thing the group did was test to see if what The Gamemaster said was true. They tried to open one of the two numbered doors present to them with three, four, and five people, but found them unable to open. They tried one last time with six people, and the door was able to open. That’s when the first incident occurred.

Jason fell in after the door had been opened for seven seconds. He fell so quickly that no one was able to grab him as the doors shut. A methodic beeping was heard. Jason began to panic from the inside. He then told everyone to tell his siblings that he loved them before a sound of an explosion was heard. Shakingly, six of them opened up the door to reveal blood, tissue, and the clothes and bracelet of Jason. Nobody moved as the doors slowly shut themselves after nine seconds. His death meant that everything that The Gamemaster said was truthful.

After the reality had settled in, the overall motivation to continue had lowered. However, they knew that they couldn't stand around and do nothing because of the time limit The Gamemaster had put on them. They took a moment and figured who could go through which of the two doors and split up and entered them. 

After clearing the puzzles they had encountered in the rooms, (and after one group nearly exploded from being unable to find the deactivation panel early on), the groups met up again in an area reminiscent of a hospital room, except it was full of empty cots and had three numbered doors. A quick examination showed that the main power for the scanners had been removed, thus preventing them from going any further. Everyone agreed to split up and search for them, the only exceptions being Rewind, Gardenia, and Tina, who decided to assist Tina in finding a restroom. About an hour later, Goggles ran up to Sapphire to tell her that someone had restored the panels. Sapphire knew something was wrong when she noticed that Goggles was not smiling. As soon as she was about to ask why a scream was heard from the hospital room. Sapphire ran with Goggles back to see why a scream was heard.

In the middle of the room was Blake and Cheryl laying in their own blood. These two insurgents, father, and mother to Tina, now lay dead in front of the numbered doors. Suspicion was immediate amongst the now fifteen remaining “players''. After all, everybody had split up, so all alibis except for Gardenia, Rewind, and Tina were hard to trust. But it seemed that a culprit was found quickly, as Neon pointed out that Iouli had been obscuring her hand behind her back. A quick pull from Morty revealed that Iouli’s hand was stained with something red, which caused an argument as Vassilis defended Iouli, claiming that she was innocent. His words were swiftly eaten as Iouli pulled a blade from her pockets and lunged at Tina, only to be grabbed and suplexed by Vassilis himself, causing Iouli to be knocked out. Some rope was grabbed from a nearby room and used to tie her up; after affirming that she would stay put, the fourteen split up their groups and entered through the two rightmost doors. Fortunately, the puzzles this time around were a bit more straightforward. They soon exited back into the hospital room with relatively high spirits, despite the loop they realized they had made. 

Iouli was gone. They found her body lying in the hallway, stomach down. A quick test with Bandage and an examination by Morty confirmed the truth: Iouli Thomaie had no heartbeat, and she was killed by a sharp attack to her gut. Instead of suspicion, confusion spread amongst the fourteen; the only question that was floating in their heads was, “How could she be killed if we were all together?” It was a tricky conundrum indeed, as everyone except Iouli entered the two numbered rooms, and everyone was by someone the whole time, so there would be no possible way that someone could have left, murdered Iouli, and returned. Sprocket’s voice piped up, amplified by the silence.

“Well, what if she took her own life?” Everyone turned their heads toward him. How could he say something like that, and what prompted him to say that? 

“Sprocket may have a point,” Neon spoke. “We went through different numbered doors and we think we have each found half of a special document. We were discussing as we were leaving the hospital room a few moments ago.” Everyone gave their full attention to the duo as they began to speak. 

“Through my door, I found a document describing a neurotoxin called Korem-23,” Sprockets began. “It was discovered by Dr. Andrea Korem, and evidently, it’s very hard to create. It must be kept in temperatures at around 30- -10 degrees, otherwise, it’ll evaporate or solidify. It is also a very tricky toxin, as the resources required to make it are hard to acquire, and it can only be administered as a liquid.”

“Through my door, I found the other half that explained what it does,” Neon continued. “It would seem this neurotoxin is unique in the fact that unlike other neurotoxins, it is not fatal, however, it does interfere with certain aspects of a creature’s psyche. Mainly that it causes the victim to experience heightened aggression, stress, and desperation, which eventually leads to them becoming desperate to… y’know” she said, knowing that she needed not to expand further on the topic. Sapphire couldn’t help but look at Iouli’s body. Could that be true? Could Iouli have been injected with Korem-23? But if that is true, then wouldn’t the one behind all this, AKA The Gamemaster, have infected more of them? Sapphire wasn’t the only one that had this idea, as others were slowly coming to the same conclusion. The clock in the main staircase brought them out of their thoughts as the chimes were heard. They had a few hours remaining.

Panic began to slowly creep into the remaining “players”. Could they actually escape from where they were? After all, every single room that they had been in so far has made it seem like the location everyone was at was a ship of some kind in the middle of the Atlantic ocean. If they escaped, would there be a boat for them to use? Doubt was beginning to dampen their spirits, so to stay positive, Neon, Sprockets, and Benny decided to explore any remaining areas to see if they could find the number nine door since most of the ship was available to them.

About half an hour passed before a loud yell was heard. Without any hesitation, everyone ran down towards the general area where they heard, and the sounds of a pair of doors opening alerted them to what room to enter. The room they entered was designed in a way that resembled a celebration room, but nobody paid any attention to that, but instead the corpse of Sprockets. The mournful cry of Pixel echoed throughout the room. Tuning out his cry, Morty checked Sprockets’ hands, discovering a scrap of paper written with his blood. He showed it to Gardenia, and the two approached the door, drawing almost everyone’s attention. It was then they realized a possible motive for murder: The number 9 door. They saw Gardenia and Morty pull apart the panel and fiddle with wires, and an unlocking sound resonated through the room; using Sprockets’ final words, they were able to bypass the door without leaving anyone behind. With a promise to avenge him, Pixel was able to leave Sprockets’ body and join the group as they opened the door, and found the exploded remains of Neon. The sight alone prompted Tina to burst into tears, while a feeling of anger filled most of the others as the main culprit was now blatantly clear: Benny. With a few calming words, everyone continued beyond the door, eager to make sure that Benny could not escape.

Fueled on adrenaline, the remaining participants rushed forward, eventually reaching an open area with stairs and the murderous GOC member. A standoff was initiated, as Benny pulled out a gun, and threatened to shoot whoever moved forward. Then, presuming that all intel would die with them, began to monologue. He began a spiel admitting that he orchestrated almost every death and that he was part of a rogue cell of the GOC known as the Platinum Fangs, who were the puppet masters behind the Isolation Experiment. It was this experiment that caused them to separate from the GOC, as they didn’t approve of the human experimentation. As he continued, Jeremy reached into his pocket and pulled out Dr. Wondertainment's Stretchy Stretch Stretch String™ and with a quick whip smacked the gun out of Benny's hand and another attack brought him down. He was quickly restrained and was knocked out with a kick, for extra precaution. With that, everyone stopped and let out some deep breaths: They were finally going to end this experiment once and for all. With the mastermind tied up and with them, they bid a farewell to the building and their fallen comrades and then ran up the stairs. Soon the end was in sight and they burst through the door, expecting the sea breeze, only to walk out and see the barren frost land that was the wilderness of Russia. The ship was never real, but instead, all participants were in a facility built underground, most likely to withstand a nuclear event. A van, most likely having been used to transport everybody here was nearby. Using their skills, Goggles was able to hotwire it and Rewind was able to call in to Site-781, which was nearby, and let them know of their arrival. They then piled in and drove, all of them a mix of happiness and shock that they had survived the whole ordeal.

At Site-781, everyone was checked for injuries and the members of the GOIs were interrogated with the assumption that they had something to do with the earlier events. In the end, Morty, Jeremy, and Gardenia were allowed to leave, while Vassilis took Tina and vanished before the Foundation could decide what could be done about them. An encrypted message received later seemed to point to the idea that Vassilis took Tina to the Insurgent cell that she grew up at. Benny Smith was the main focus of the Foundations’ time; he was eventually incarcerated.

Unfortunately, the stress of the experiment took a toll on Pixel, who ended up slipping into a coma, in which his memories of the event were locked away as he eventually woke up with no knowledge of anything having happened. In order to heal and so to not trigger any horrible memories for him, Goggles, Clack, Bandage, and Rewind decided to go on temporary leave from the Foundation for several years, with the ultimate choice at the end to figure out if they would be willing to return or get amnesticized. With no more of her members to work with, Agent Sapphire pulled the plug on Omicron-5, and the name was retired.

It’s been nine years since the first Isolation Experiment occurred, but that didn’t mean it was the last. For a few years afterward, several other experiments occurred; some were short, some were done by other people, and one was so intense that it gained notoriety in the public eye. For each of these experiments, Agent Sapphire made sure that she was involved in their investigations so that she may be able to help end them once and for all. Five years after the initial one, the eighth Isolation Experiment ended up revealing a flaw that exposed the Platinum Fangs, and they, along with any possible connections, were apprehended. After this, Agent Sapphire became content with the knowledge that nothing that heinous would ever happen again. So she was hit with a horrible pang of unease when she received an email from an O5 with the simple subject of: “It’s happening again”. The rest of the email explained that Agent Sapphire would be a willing participant and would have to risk her life to put an end to this once and for all. After thinking about it, she obliged.

Elsewhere, different people were ending their days and packing up. Some were double-checking their bags, some went to the back of their room to check out a noise they heard, and some were simply on a drive. But each of them are met with the same fate of a white gas that puts them to sleep. When they awake they’ll each have to participate in a game of life and death, where teamwork is key but deception is much more profitable. Hopefully, they can all make it out alive when they go through The Isolation Experiment.

[lifeinahole27]

CS ff: “I Come Close” (Part 2/3) (au)

Summary: They’re not really rivals, but not really friends. What they are, instead, is the best sex they’ve ever had. It’s easy and simple, even with the rules they have in place. So what happens when those rules start falling apart?

Rating: Explicit - This chapter contains blindfolding, sensory play, and restraints.

A/N: It took me until just now to discover I’d never added a summary to the last chapter. Y’all do know you can let me know when I fuck that shit up, yeah? Anyway, here’s part 2! Part 3 is finally finished and in edits so I figured I could get this whole thing posted before I go on vacation next week. 

Part 1

Find it on Ao3!

-x-

Part 2

Killian wants to blame all of this on the merger their company went through a year ago. And by "blame" he means "thank profusely," of course. That’s the only reason that Emma Swan came into his life. They were both senior project managers within their original companies and now they’re practically pitted against each other because of their own competitive streaks.

He remembers the way she came into his office on her first day, striding right up to his desk and planting her palms on either side of his name plate, fire in her eyes as her hair fell over her shoulders. 

“You stay out of my way and I’ll stay out of yours,” she declared. It had been suggested they work together on some middle-ground projects, but they’ve both waved it off and split the files, preferring to work with their own teams. 

And then, something shifted. They were each working late one night and he could hear her swearing up a storm, so even as he shut down his own office for the night, he made a decision to go to hers.

“Everything all right, Swan?”

“Just fucking dandy,” she replied, scowling at the screen in front of her.

“I know it’s against our nature to help each other out, but is there anything I can do?”

She’d looked up at him, then, considering him from behind her glasses, her hair swept up into a ponytail. 

“Actually, there is something you can do,” she’d replied, an innocent smile forming across her lips.

A half hour later, she was leading him inside her apartment. Forty-five minutes later, her hands were holding his head in place as he did everything in his power to get her off. 

It started as just sex. They had rules, of course, including those regarding the location and frequency of their visits. And no kissing, Emma had announced as her hand closed around his erection that first time. They were rules they’d strictly held in check for the last six months that they’d been sleeping together. 

Right up until the moment Emma showed up at his apartment and kissed him before she left. 

Since that day two weeks ago, they’ve seen each other after work every other day, sometimes going to his place instead of just to hers now. They’ve not kissed again.

When he shows up on a Friday after they’ve both left work for the day, he’s treated to a new surprise: Emma answers the door in a satin robe, pulling him in by his tie and locking the door behind him. He barely has time to take off his shoes before she’s leading him to the kitchen table, slipping the plastic bag off his prosthetic hook as she goes. 

“I wanna talk to you about trying something new,” she tells him as she pours the wine. “We’ve been doing this long enough that I trust you like… a lot. You know as well as I do that we’re always expected to be the ones that call the shots at work. Well, tonight, I want to give you that control over me. Is that okay?”

“Much like when we first began this, love, I just ask that you let me know what I can do.”

“We’ll get to that. Dinner comes before you do,” she says, grinning as she doles out the containers. 

She makes sure the whole kitchen is cleaned before she leads him back to her bedroom. The lights are dim, and her nightstand has been cleared of the miscellany that usually clutters it. Those items have been replaced by a bundle of satin, a bottle of lubricant, and a few sensory items that he doesn’t really focus on, instead turning back to Emma. 

“You have something in mind?”

“Well,” she says, going for the satin first. “I want you to help me with these, and then the rest is up to you.”

The bundle is, in fact, two restrains and an eye mask. The restraints are soft, and she shows him how to loop them around her wrists. They don’t tie, which means she can escape from them if needed. He does, however, have to tie them to her bed frame, but he waits until she’s put the eye mask on her head and gotten comfortable against the pillows. She rests her arms overhead and he works from there to tie the straps to the bars closest to her. 

She tests them a few times, making sure they’re the right tension, before she lays back and tries to relax. Her eyes land back on him, watching with interest as he loosens his tie. When he notices he has an audience, he slows down, drawing out the act as he makes eye contact with her. 

He sets the tie on her dresser, moving next to the buttons on his shirt and making quick work of those. The shirt gets draped over a chair she has in the corner of her room, and he quickly shuffles off his socks at the same time. Her eyebrow pops up in question when he turns his attention to releasing the straps that hold his prosthetic in place. 

“You don’t have to,” she tells him, and he can tell by her voice that she’s just trying to make sure he’s comfortable.

“I want to,” he says quietly, leaving the whole contraption next to his tie. 

Down to just his trousers, he moves back to the bed and stands there considering where to start. He supposes the first order of business is to undress her. 

“Shall I strip you with or without the blindfold?”

“Without.”

“As you wish.”

He tugs carefully on the tie holding her robe closed, giving a pleased hum as it easily comes loose and he can push apart the two sides to reveal nothing but a simple thong. Already he can see the dampness on the crotch and he looks up at her as he smirks. 

“So wet already,” he comments. He moves closer to her side, kneeling on the bed for a moment to ease the blindfold down over her eyes. “You say ‘stop’ and I will do so immediately, okay?”

“Okay,” she says, her voice sounding breathy already. 

He moves away from the bed again, instead weighing his options on the sensory items she’s left out. There are three items on the table: one is a feather tickler, one is a small vibrator, and the last is a small wheel with dull spikes on it. 

He starts with the wheel, hoping to catch her off guard by not going for the tickler first. As quietly as he can, he moves to the bottom of the bed, hovering just close enough that he can reach without giving away his position. With a quick motion, he runs the wheel along the arch of one foot, biting back a chuckle when she twitches and brings her whole knee up.

“Seriously?” she exclaims, The surprise evident on her face even with her eyes covered. 

“You’ve given me the control, Swan. Just try to relax.” 

She grumbles out something that he very much wants to respond to but turns his attention back to setting the wheel back against her skin and rolling it up her shin. He draws patterns around her knee and zigzags his way up her thigh before moving back to the other leg. He can hear her exhalation of disappointment and almost tells her she’s in for a long night of sighs like that. 

Going along the outside of her thighs is fun, but it’s when the wheel dips to her inner thighs that he really enjoys. He gets to watch as she tugs at her restraints, her hands reaching as if wanting to pull him to where she wants. Just as quickly, her arms flop back to the pillows. 

The rest of her skin gets the same treatment - he runs the wheel across her abdomen, where she squirms away from the ticklish sensation. He rolls it between her breasts. He varies the pressure as he goes to different areas, watching the way she twists and moves in reaction. 

Before moving on to the next item, he instead chooses to remove her underwear. He uses his hand and teeth to drag each side of the thong down at the same time, enjoying the way she says his name like a curse as he does. 

He wants so badly to sink into her already, to bring them both to completion in any way he can, but he knows she wants more than just one of these toys used, so he opts to grab the tickler after he drops her panties on the floor. This time, he starts from the top and works his way down. From the space just below her wrists, all the way to the tips of her toes, he brushes the bundle of feathers across her skin. 

Deciding to add a new element to it, he climbs onto the bed and straddles her with one knee on either side of her torso. Other than kneeling on the robe that was trapped beneath her, he makes sure he’s not hurting her in any way.

“Still okay?” he asks, needing that verbal confirmation before he continues. 

“Yeah, good,” she responds, moving just enough that her skin brushes against the fabric of his trousers. He watches as goosebumps form across her skin and her nipples tighten up further. He bites his bottom lip, wanting nothing more than to kiss her right now, as she is, but holding back to honor her rules. 

He doesn’t say anything further, instead leaning up so he can draw the tickler across her wrists again. This time, however, he follows the line of the feathers with his tongue, using it to draw intricate patterns along the path. 

It’s the first time her control breaks and she moans. He does the same on her other arm before moving down her chest. He shifts to straddle lower on her body so he can access each new part he plays with. She tilts her head to give better access to her neck, then arches up into his touch when he gets to her breasts. 

For a moment, the tickler gets left to the side as he does a thorough job of licking and nipping at each breast. By now he knows exactly how hard to bite each nipple to get the perfect response, and today is no different as she cries out, bucking her hips up in hope of meeting some kind of friction. 

He shifts again so one of his knees presses against the juncture between her legs as he licks across her chest and down her abdomen, giving her a taste of what she wants as she rubs her center against his leg. Before she can get off, however, he moves again. 

Ignoring where she wants him most, he continues to trail down her legs, enjoying the noises she makes when he brushes the feathers across the backs of her knees as he nips gently at her kneecaps. Down he goes until he gets to her ankles, and then repeats the sequence again on the outside and inside of each leg. 

She’s panting by now, and even with the lights as low as they are he can see she’s glistening with her own moisture. The vibrator and lubricant, it seems, will have to wait until another time. He moves off the bed for a moment in order to carefully shuck his trousers and boxers, watching in interest as Emma cocks her head and wondering if she can tell what he’s doing or if she’s trying to hear where he is. 

When he notices how parched he is and how she’s repeatedly closing her mouth and swallowing, he decides it’s okay for one last little trick. As he stands at the foot of the bed, he wraps his hand around one of her ankles and moves her leg outward. He repeats the same motion with her other leg, leaving her spread open for him. 

“Don’t move,” he instructs before exiting the room as quietly as he can and heading for her kitchen. He knows by now where she keeps her cups, and he finds one with a lid and a straw that he’s seen her drinking out of during meetings. He fills it quickly and heads back to the room.

“Sit up a little and drink,” Killian tells her, guiding her to the straw and smiling gently when she greedily gulps. 

“How did you know?” she asks after she quenches her thirst. 

Instead of responding, he takes his own sips from the drink before stopping up the straw and pulling it from the cool water and leaving the cup on the nightstand. Starting between her breasts, he lets drops escape as he moves down her body and she gasps and arches. 

“You asshole,” she pants, but whatever she planned to say after that is long lost as the last final drops land just above her clit. The straw gets thrown to the side as he moves quickly, sucking up those drops before closing his mouth around her clit, his tongue flicking across it in swift movements. 

He’s coerced a lot of noises out of her in their time together. She has moaned his name in every cadence he could possibly imagine. This time, she shouts, and he knows that he’ll have hell to pay for this eventually. He only lets up long enough to fully move onto the bed between her legs, burying his face between her thighs and working with the singular goal of making her orgasm. 

She was already close, so he’s not surprised when he barely gets through tracing her clit with a “K” as he’s going through the alphabet and she traps him where he is, cursing his name and tugging tight at the restraints for the first time during this whole adventure. She bucks up into his mouth, riding out the pleasure as long as she can before she collapses back to the bed, her legs and arms all going limp at the same time. 

So lost is he by leaving little kisses along her pubic bone that he doesn’t notice she’s slipped off one of the restraints until her hand is buried in his hair and she’s tugging hard. Killian moans against her heated flesh, his hips stuttering against the mattress for a second. 

She releases him to push up the blindfold, where she meets his gaze with her heated one. “Get up here and fuck me.”

“As you wish,” Killian says again, hoping eventually she’ll get the reference and infer the meaning. But until that day, he does just as she commands. 

-x-

Part 3

[imaginesofharrypotter]

Dinner night

Sebastian Stan x fem!reader

Summary: Becoming fast friends with Sebastian on a movie set you do together is amazing, but one dinner night will change the situation between the two of you

Warnings: sexual tension, a little swearing

I was getting ready for a formal dinner night with the cast of the movie I was currently working on. All of us clicked well and had fun all the time, but there was one person who stood out amongst them.

Sebastian Stan. The literal definition of sweetness became one of my closest friends during the few months of shooting, and we were pretty inseparable. I knew he was kind even before we met but after I got to know him more and more - losing ourselves in deep and meaningful conversations, or doubling over laughing at anything and everything - I concluded that he is an utterly intelligent and caring person with lots of intriguing layers to him.

So here I was, standing in front of my large mirror in my hotel room, ready for the night. Sebastian came up behind me, flashing a beautiful smile, appreciation evident in his eyes.

"You look beautiful" - he said, stepping closer and planting a kiss on my bare shoulders

"Thanks, Seb" - I replied smiling and turning around, looking him up and down - "You look dashing too"

"Not bad for an old man, huh?" - he said half-jokingly

"Ohh, come on. You are in your 30's it's nowhere near old." - I pointed a finger on his chest - "Besides, you are like a fine wine, getting better with age"

A chuckle rumbled through his chest - "Sure thing, sweetheart. You are only in your mid 20's you'll see the world differently at my age."

"Ohhh, so you're saying I'll look old at your age" - I said mock offended, stepping back a little, but he seemed to take it rather seriously

"No, of course not" - he put his arms on my hips and pulled me back, closer to him - "I'm pretty sure you'll be the most breathtaking woman at my age, just like you are now" - He said, smiling down at me with glistening eyes... damn those beautiful blue eyes

I blushed very hard at that and wasn't able to keep our eye contact. I playfully slapped his shoulder - "Stop being such a flirt" - I said but smiling evident in my voice

"Stop being so god damn perfect" - He retorted

I looked up at him surprised, seeing a sincere and soft expression

"You know" - he started - "I've never enjoyed my time with anyone this much. Having deep conversations about anything, never failing to make me laugh, those shared experiences like going hiking, strolling through town, or just lay in bed and share our fears and doubts. You are always there when I'm struggling even tho I can be a burden sometimes, and reassure me that everything will be fine. Even if I feel like the whole world is crumbling upon me, you are a never-ending source of happiness and relaxation for me. You have no idea how easily you make me happy, pushing all negativity aside with your words, smiles, and touches. Well, I guess now you do." - he carded his fingers through his luscious dark locks, a nervous tick of his - "I know it's a lot to take in, and I know I'm quite a bit older than you, and we work so well as friends, and you are all bubbly and passionate and young, and I might not be your best choice, but damn. I swear I'd give you everything to make you happy because I'm in love with you, been for a while."

I just stood there, mouth agape for what felt like an eternity, not being able to completely process what was happening. All that was heard in the rooms was both of our heavy breathing, probably from the tension and the overwhelming emotions that we both struggled with. I realized that somewhere along with his speech he brought me even closer to him, his piercing blue eyes boring into mine while he waited for my reply, any reply.

"Seb..." - was all I managed to say in a breathless whisper

"Gosh, I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't have thrown this upon you, it's not the right way to do it, I just... I was never able to collect enough courage to ask you on a date." - he let go of me, leaning against the wall beside him and throwing his head back against it, sighing loudly with closed eyes

"Why would you be afraid to ask me out though?" - I stepped back closer to him

"Y/N, I can be such a mess and problematic so often, I'm older than you by more than just a few years, I need to travel a lot because of my job and just..." - he started to rumble, but I put a finger on his lips to stop him

"Everyone is problematic in their ways, we all have our flaws, but that just makes us who we are. Biological age is but a number, and you know that I don't care about that. And guess what? Our profession is the same, so traveling is second nature by now, I don't mind it. But..." - I tried to reassure him, but he cut me off

"But you still wouldn't go out with me." - he tried to finish my sentence, this time looking at me with sad eyes

"Gosh, Stan. For an intelligent man, you can be very, very blind to these things." - I rolled my eyes, but he just looked at me with a quizzical expression, so I continued, this time trying to be more clear and straightforward

"You say I wouldn't go out with you" - he just nodded, still with a sad expression - "What if I'm in love with you too?" - I inquired while stepping even closer, softly roaming my hands from his torso to his chest, looking in his eyes the whole time and smiling fondly at him

"That would make things easier" - he said and then realized what I did and how close I was to him and his baby blue eyes turned a shade darker as lust appeared in them. - "Can I kiss you?" - he asked breathlessly, mere inches from my face, suddenly finding his courage

"Yes, please" - I breathed out and before I knew it, his lips were on mine

It was gentle and soft, almost hesitant. Not long after, he pulled away from me a little, searching for something in my eyes. When all he met was a combination of adoration, passion, love, and lust, he dived back in, this time more eagerly. Our lips melted together, moving in synch, completely lost in the moment. Both of his hand grabbed my waist harder, pulling me flush against him, while my hands found their ways around his neck as a little moan escaped my lips at the sensation. He wasted no time entering his tongue and perfectly mapping every corner of my mouth. I was putty in his hands and he sensed it. He suddenly turned us over and pushed me up hard against the wall, putting a hand behind my neck, pulling my impossibly closer while his other hand reached for one of my tight, grabbed it and lifted it by his side. My skin and veins were on fire. If kissing the man felt this good, what sensation would I get from other activities? I tugged at his hair harder eliciting a low groan from him, feeling his chest rumble against mine as he pushed against me harder.

Eventually, we needed to part for air after what seemed like forever. Both of us were heavily panting, faces flushed red and lips deliciously swollen. He rested his forehead against mine, while we tried to come back to our senses.

"Wow, that was..." - he started, pulling back and looking lovingly in my eyes

"Yeah..." - I agreed, looking back with just as much adoration

He started to lean back in, but I put a hand on his chest, gently pushing away - "We still have a dinner we need to get to" - I reminded him

"Oh, shit" - he stepped away looking shocked, as I laughed a little bit at his reaction - "I completely forgot it. I just got so lost in you" - He said, us smiling fondly at each other

"Me too. But we better clean ourselves up and leave or we gonna be late." - I started to walk away but he looked at me questioningly "My dark red lipstick is most probably smeared on me, and you have at least half of it on your face" - I chuckled lightly at his expression when he looked in the mirror, then gave him a quick peck on the lips and went to the bathroom to doll myself up once more.

When I came out he waited for me at the door, grinning wildly with brightly shining blue eyes and clean face. The sight melted me every single time since I've known him. He opened the door and held out an arm for me. I looped mine in his, while we walked to the elevator.

When we descended, nearly reaching the bottom floor, he leaned a little bit down to my ears and whispered in a dark, deep, husky voice "Just so you know, we are gonna resume this when we get back home, and I'm gonna fully have you this time, my love"

I involuntarily squeezed my tights together, already feeling the heat pooling there. He noticed this and just had a proud smug expression on his face. Man, do I wait for dinner to be over already?

Autor's note: So yeah, I'm back. I realized I had this page and I'm burning with passion to write. What do you say to a smutty part 2 of this? Have a lovely day ^^

[vanaera]

The Constellations of the Big and Small Spoons

[Moodboard created by the amazing @jhspetitegf] Synopsis | You’re sick and your roommate’s gone for her hometown for the next days so your bestfriend, Jeon Jungkook (who loves you cares so, so much), plays nurse for the entire night. What he did not expect is to find himself also burning hot–moreover on your bed with your body intertwined with his. (OR: you and Jungkook’s single brain cells try to make sense of the night except Jungkook has his heart-shaped and yours, well, is just plain weird…or not? ) Characters | Jungkook x  reader (Football player!jjk x writer + childhood friend!you; college!au + bestfriends to lovers! tho more like idiots to lovers) Genre | So much FLUFF (welcome to the TPAHR Universe) Wordcount | 3.3k A/N | Sorry for my inactivity guys, uni’s been a little too hard on me lately :(((( Anyway, here’s something I made as a gift for all my hons who patiently waited for another installment of this drabble series. Have fun reading and Happy Jungkook Day!

Read more of football!jk drabbles in The Prince and His Rose

               The inky skies of the midnight haze are already sweeping across the room and yet, Jeon Jungkook feels the sun, even in its absence, is cursing him to the depths of hell. Scorching heat laps at his back, making him sweat even when the AC is blasting frigid air to his toes. A beaming glow, hot like the blinding afternoon daylight, seems to seep between his lashes, keeping his eyes excruciatingly wide open in the wake of the night. In this ungodly hour, such beam of light is non-existent, but Jungkook still feels it and he can’t do anything about it.

               “You’re still a…awake, Kook?”

               Jeon Jungkook can’t do anything about this heat when its very source is lying next to him–too close to him. Your legs are wound around his, your arms looped around the dip of his waist, and your breath fans against his nape, he could practically feel his baby hairs rising in succession.

               However, at your question, the only thought taking up every space in his mind is the question: What does he do now? Does he answer you? Should he pretend to be asleep? Or, do he–            

               “A-am I being too clingy? S-sorry…” Jungkook feels you withdraw your arms and he panics. He immediately turns on his side, not caring about the sheets of your bed uncomfortably tangling around his legs.  Jungkook’s hand shoots from his side, wrapping around your wrist that you have retreated back to your chest.  He sees the surprise written on your face and he instantly unclasps his hand, keeping them crossed across his chest, just like your current position.

               “N-no! You’re not clingy…I just,” Jungkook sighs and decides to let honesty play his cards. “I suddenly felt…weird.”

               You look at him, eyes peering into him and he gulps. But before he can explain himself, you have already opened your mouth and asked, “Wh-why? Is it because of me? I-I’m sorry…”

               Jungkook bites his lip as his heartbeat start to thunder loud and clear behind his ears, an imminent sign the songs in his chest are about to play anytime soon. He stares at you, drinking in your bleary eyes and furrowed forehead. If he’s gonna be honest now, everything about his current position is indeed all because of you.  

***

               It started with you overworking yourself again into the first month of the semester and Jungkook only knew about this when your common friend, Park Jimin, texted him you’re absent in the communication class you share with him. And Jungkook knows you care too much about your academic standing, with your scholarship and all, to tick off at least one of your course’s permitted leaves.

               “It’s not that bad,” you told him once you woke up and saw his worry-streaked face, his form crouching next to your bedside, but Jungkook begs to differ. First of all, he found you slumped on your desk that afternoon hair uncombed, clothes unwashed, lunch pack you probably bought for the day still untouched, and a mess of papers splayed around your head, with a stray piece even covering your face. And second, he realized you’ve come down with a flu the moment he  noticed your labored breaths and felt your skin burning up. So of course, this is bad. Jungkook frowns at the careless shrug you give him and it deepens when you tried to laugh at the situation and told him you’re fine and he should go back to his dorm even when you’re tucked up in your sheets, face pale, and voice hoarse like death.  

               Of course, he didn’t listen to you. With the years he’s grown with you, he always knew you easily get sick and take too long to get well. He would always hear your mom’s exasperated voice next door when she scolds you for getting drenched under the rain or standing too long under the sun. All of these were for the best of you, ten-year-old Jungkook found out, because when you turned seven, you got hospitalized for five days after coming down with an illness from just playing under the rain with him for an hour. As soon as you got discharged, your mom asked him to keep an eye on you if you ever try to pull off some stupid shit again. With three years ahead of you in age, Jungkook easily accepted such responsibility and for the next ten years, he zealously kept his promise to your mom.

               So now with you sick and your roommate gone for her hometown for the next two days, there are no further questions to be asked. Jungkook will stay by your side for the night. Three years of coming-and-going to your dorm is enough for him to memorize that every Wednesday, your RA does not do her rounds. His butt is safe for tonight from momentary bad landings on the ground whenever he has to escape from your window.  

               Taking care of you is easy. He knows playing along with your whines will get him to make you eat the food he nearly cut a finger for in preparation. Asking you to tell him another run-over of your stories is the key to coax you to ignore your work for the mean time and take a shower. Finally, letting you ramble about the most random things is the ultimate power move to get you into bed and tuck you under the sheets. He still goes for this technique even though he ends up with the most ridiculous ideas plaguing him in his sleep like that time you wondered what if the Cerberus has its body reversed: instead of three heads and one body, it has one head and three bodies.    

               However, this night was different from the other nights he played nurse because this is the first time the power move did not work on you.

               “Come lay next to me.”

               “What?!” Jungkook whips his head to you, fingers frozen in the middle of arranging the papers on your desk.

               “Come lay next to me,” you repeat, voice still soft but the conviction in it clearer. Jungkook straightens his back and faces you with a deadpan stare. The usual “No, Y/N, I won’t lie next to you. I have some blankets. I’ll sleep on the floor,” is already on the tip of his tongue. But as soon as he took a step towards you, your ultimatecounter-atack is played out in front of him: you with your puppy eyes and your bottom lip jutted out in a pout. Jungkook immediately freezes. Such sight used to affect his soft spot for you that will have him willing to consider your request back when he only saw you as a friend. But now–damn, not only does it affect his soft heart, it also instantly attacks a part of his brain–a part where he lets his feelings cloud his rational thinking and is most of the time occupied by you (in short, his whole brain–just kidding).  

               So there is no surprise Jungkook will only manage to squeak, “What?” amidst the tornado going on his body and the gigantic flash of red ready to take over his cheeks.

               Unaware of his interior war with himself, you only fixed your gaze on him and said, “Come lay next to me. I’m feeling too cuddly and…lonely. Yeah, lonely. I didn’t manage to talk with anyone yesterday and I crave some human connection, which also only made me miss my bestfriend more.”

               Jungkook is still rooted in his position, still giving you that troubled expression (brows knitted together, face flushed, lips parted in a weird semi-scowl, semi-smile that sometimes troubles you yourself), so you muttered, “Promise, you can leave my side as soon as I fell asleep.”

               Jungkook bites his lip but wordlessly goes to your side of the bed to raise his hand to your direction, pinky jutted out. “You promise?”

               You grin at him. “Aren’t we already too old for pinky swears? You’re making me look like I’m destroying your conscience by just asking you to keep me company.”

               “Because you do–Goddamn it, Y/N, just promise me or not?!”

               “Fine, fine, fine, I promise,” you interlock your pinky with his and seal the deal with a kiss on your thumb. “There, so can you know lay next to me? So I can also end your agony as soon as possible?”

               “Damn, woman, you’re so demanding.” Despite such remark, Jungkook concedes and goes to the other side of your bed. After he finally tucks himself next to you with your blanket pulled to his chest like you do, he fixes you with a begrudging frown. “There. Satisfied?”

               You laugh, “Yeah, so much!” You pulled his right arm closer to you, spreading his palm open to slot your fingers between the spaces of his own. Giggling at your now-intertwined hands, you turn to his side and look up at him. “Don’t you feel reminiscent of sleeping like this when we used to have sleepovers in your house?”

               “Yeah, totally. Can you now sleep?” Jungkook answers with an annoyed huff, facing away from you and you only giggle at him.

               “Okay, grumpy StarKook,” you chortle. “Remember not to get too close. You may get sick, too, and you can’t have that for tomorrow’s practice.” Drawling on your words, you pressed yourself further on your side of the bed to create more space between the two of you. 

               It is only when your soft snores fill the room that Jungkook breaks from his stiff position. He turns to your side, facing your curled-up form. The circles under your eyes have become darker than last week and your collarbones protrude on your skin a little too much for his liking. And he hates himself for not noticing anything earlier. He hates himself for missing out too much on you these days. He hates himself for making it up to you only now. But most of all, he hates himself for his inability to just outright say to you that he no longer sees you as just a friend but a person who’s unknowingly owned his heart.

               He hates how he can’t easily return the sweet sentiments you generously pour on him. His lips conditioned to say the opposite of what his heart meant in fear of losing you with the burden he’s impending to give you once you knew everything about the songs in his heart. And even if he tried to make up for his poor choice of words with his actions, he hates how his progress is close to nothing in trying to make you see the way he sees you whenever you feel insecure, un-loved, un-qualified to live in the world. Because, you are so, so much more than the faults you always see in yourself.

               So, even if Jungkook feels he’s still far from touching your heart the way you did his when you helped him realize his own passion, he won’t stop trying. Even if sometimes he gets easily knocked off his feet and rational thoughts fly away from his head the moment his eyes just as so much meet yours–Jungkook won’t stop loving you.

               Jungkook sees the way you suddenly shift closer to him, forehead scrunched and lips frowning in discomfort. He raises his hand and awkwardly pats your hair. That seems to do the trick as the lines on your forehead smoothen out, your lips curving into a small smile. Jungkook then feels a squeeze on his hand and his heart instantly warms into a soft mush at the way you managed to keep yourself far from him so as not to infect him, but still near enough for you to reach him.

               Jungkook’s about to sweep away the strand of hair that has fallen astray on your face when–

               “Ko-ook, I…felt so bad today.”

               Jungkook immediately tucks away his hand back to his chest. Your eyes are still closed, chest heaving evenly with your breaths so Jungkook’s not sure if you’re just sleep-talking or just letting him off the hook of what he’s about to do. Nevertheless, he replies, “W-why?”

               “Be…because I can’t write these days and I…and my studies take up too much of my time and I just–I don’t knoow, feel like I’m not improving at aall.”

               “I–,” Jungkok gulps “Well, I can help you with your studies?”

               “No offense, Kook, but I don’t trust you with my pa-papers…My program is a reading course and you a-already sleep halfway through a five-paged short stooory.”

               Jungkook laughs, “Okay, touché.” Damn, even in your drowsy state you still roast him well.

               Despite his small chuckles, you continue on, still serious. “Bu…but what if I can’t find the time to wri–write anymore and end up not getting any of my stories published?”

               Almost instantly, Jungkook replies, “You will get published.” Among all of the things he has agreed with, this is the only one he can be a hundred percent sure of.

               “How did you know?”

               “Because I know you will. And because I’ll make sure I’ll be the first person to buy a copy of your book.” Jungkook squeezes your hand, smiling.

               “You…you promise?”

               “Now look who told me we’re getting too old for pinky promises.”

               “I just sai-said promise, you know. You’re the only grown-up who still likes pinky promises–Whatever, do you promise or not?

               “Okay, okay, I promise.”

               “Hmmm,” you yawn turning on your side of the bed, “It’s already laaate so feel free to sleep on my bed, Kook. But if you still want to go to your dorm and rest, you can leave me now. I’m already sleepyyy. Thank you again for the night.”

               “Okay, I’m finally free!” Jungkook chuckles but he doesn’t make a move to leave. Not yet. He turns to look at your sleeping figure, eyes drinking in the curves and dips of your body. Jungkook shifts an inch closer to you, his hand poised near to your back. He aches to caress the soft tuff of hair in front of him but Jungkook keeps his hand to himself. This is enough for now. He just wants to prolong his opportunity to be with you like this, to have you close to him without worrying about the possible consequences of his feelings. A soft smile graces Jungkook’s face as he sighs.

***

               Your eyes flutter open when you feel a sudden movement against your skin. The first thing that registers in your mind is that you’ve practically latched yourself onto Jungkook – lips pressed on his nape, arms looped around the dip of his waist, and feet slotted against his calves. What worries you though is your bestfriend is barely breathing. With the way his abdomen feels taut beneath your fingers and the soft expanse of his neck trembling under the space where you managed to press your nose against, you’re sure he’ll pass out anytime soon from holding his breath inside for too long.

                “You’re still a…awake, Kook?” You called out, withdrawing your arms back to your chest, legs back to your side of the bed. “A-am I being too clingy? S-sorry…”

               Jungkook suddenly moves away and then he’s now facing you. “N-no! You’re not clingy…I just,” Jungkook sighs, “I suddenly felt…weird.”

               “Wh-why?” You mutter softly, brows furrowed. You then realize he must have been unable to leave just like you promised because you’re hugging him too tight in your sleep. You immediately brought your gaze down, apologetic. “Is it because of me? I-I’m sorry…I probably hugged you in my sleep and didn’t let you leave and go back to your dorm, and I’m sorry–”

               Jungkook shakes his head and looks at you, wide awake now. Of course, everything about this night is because of you. He’s feeling all these things because of you–you who stupidly neglect your health for the sake of studying, you who whine at him yet successfully convince him to join you on your bed, and you who look so endearingly beautiful even when you’re sick and can barely keep your eyes open. Of course, it will always be you.

               “No, it’s not because of you,” Jungkook breathes out.

               But he won’t admit it to you.

               “It’s because of me.”

               Because he’s also at fault for dragging his chances tonight for too long and you are yet to know the reason why. Especially, not now–not this way.

                “I got sleepy, too, so I just decided to sleep, and then I suddenly woke up when I felt you, uh…hugging me like that,” Jungkook clears his throat. “I-it’s just–I felt a bit queasy about you hugging me from behind.”

               You blink at him. “You feel weird being the small spoon?”

               Jungkook almost chokes on his own spit. “W-what?” Are you talking about spooning in bed? Where are you going with this conversation?!

               “I mean,” you huff, “most guys I talk with complain about their partners’ hair smothering their faces when they are the big spoon. And, it’s not like I purposely hugged you just to find out whether you like being the small spoon or not, I just unconsciously hugged you FYI. But then again, why don’t you like being the small spoon? You used to like it when I am the big spoon in our sleepovers.”

                “…When the hell did that happen?”

               You narrowed your eyes at him and Jungkook laughs. Huffing, you turn your back to him, facing your side of the bed. “Nevermind, deny it all you want when we know your mother still has pictures of you snuggled in my embrace. Anyway, it’s good that I woke up on time. You should have woken me up when you felt me hug you. You need to stay far on the bed or else you’ll get sick too and–”

               A thick arm drapes across your waist and a firm chest presses behind your back. You feel Jungkook’s knees slot next behind yours, his warm toes sliding beneath your cold feet. Before you can let out a squeak in surprise, you hear the voice of your bestfriend, rumbling right from his chest.

               “I don’t want to be small spoon. I like to be the big spoon. So I can protect you at night.”

               Chuckling, you try to ignore the searing warmth that has suddenly taken over your chest. Your ears also feel incredibly hot now, because of the cold, because of Jungkook–you don’t know, but the only thing you’re sure of is you like this warmth. Probably way more than you should. Grinning, you said, “Protect me from what?”

               “From nightmares and bad people. Now be quiet and go to sleep, peanut.”

               “Okay, okay, but…you have to let go now, Kook. You’ll also get sick–”

               “Don’t wanna. I never get sick,” Jungkook murmurs against your hair, “I have the Jeon Effect.”

               “Hmm’kay, suit yourself. Don’t let me tell you ‘I told you so.’” A beat passes and then you mumble something against your pillows–something Jungkook would have easily dismissed if not for one word that added to the flame in his heart.

              “Goodnight…prince.”

                It only takes about two minutes to have you snoring softly again in his arms. Jungkook releases the breath he’s been holding and lets his stiff shoulders drop in resignation. He presses himself closer to you, his arm draped across your waist moves as he finds for your fingers and intertwines it with his.

               Pressing a tender kiss on the back of your head, Jungkook mutters, “Goodnight, my princess.”

 Epilogue

“Mom,” Jungkook whispers on the phone, “Do you really have pictures of Y/N spooning me from behind?”

“Well, yeah…I didn’t know you knew I have copies of those, I only showed them to Y/N. Why did you ask?”

“N-nothing. Just checking.”

“Oh…kay. By the way, I also have photos of you spooning Y/N from behind. It’s so cute seeing you have turned around and switched your places. Ahh, I miss the toddler version of you. So cute!”

“Kook, are you–achoo!–talking with someone?”

“Oh shucks, mom, I have to go now. Bye bye, love you.” Jungkook ends the call and turns on his side to face you. “It’s just my mom, checking up on me.” But before you can ask him how’s his mom, Jungkook lets out a massive sneeze. He could feel your stare on him as he grabs some tissues from your tissue box–only to end up with insufficient three tissues and an empty box.  He grins at you. “Can you hand me more tissues?”

Your lips pull into a straight line as you reach for the tissue box by your desk “Here. See, Jungkook? I told you to leave me yesterday, Now you’re sick, too.

“It’s okay. At least now I get you to focus all your attention on me.”

“W-what?”

“N-nothing.”

A/N pt.2 | So hi hons! Thank you for reading this installment!!! I’ve been down the couple of days because of so MUCH school work and…I feel like I’m not improving at all given with the sudden efflux of feedback to my recent writings :((( Hence, sorry if I kept you guys waiting for too long…Anyway, I hope I’ve progressed a little bit with this installment! Thank you for always supporting me and reading my stories! 

P.S. If you also want to leave me some love, I have my arms wide open in my ask box ~( ;  ^  ; )~

All Rights Reserved © Vanaera. Reposts, modifications, and translations of content are not allowed without direct permission.

[slash-em-up]

Marry Your Monsters Pt. 9

When one door closes, look for another door.

TW: Self-harm, suicide attempt.

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

‘What the fuck just happened?’

That was the only thought racing through Miranda’s head as she stared, stunned, at the brushed metal of the door her husband had fled through.

The ache in her shoulders and the broken furniture confirmed the violence of the last few minutes; but the reality of it was so different from the man she’d known for over a decade that her brain couldn’t – it wouldn’t – come to the obvious conclusion.  

Jesse and she were both passionate people and they’d had their fights like any couple… but Miranda has never feared what her husband might do to her, until the moment his hands wrapped around her and she looked into a ferocious gaze she was wholly unfamiliar with.

She rose on shaking legs, wandering absently back to the bathroom where her dress lay discarded on the floor.  

The bare medicine cabinet met her gaze as she glanced up past the sink out of habit.  

Miranda realized unhappily what had probably happened to the mirror.  

Well, if Jesse thought she was just going to roll over and let him do whatever without her having her say… he was in for a big surprise.

She was no ones doormat, punching bag, or fuck-doll god dammit.  

Pulling her dress up with a yank she turned and marched to the door and out into the hallway, prepared to give Jesse the biggest piece of her mind to date; only to come to a screeching halt at the flurry of activity in the main room.

Shrieking and sparking machines spat out heat and noise as several men held what looked like wickedly formed knives to grindstones - while another group unloaded shining, waxed wooden coffins from the back of a truck.  

Miranda pulled herself back behind the wall and watched as Spann and Preston walked into the large room. They appeared deep in conversation – meaning Preston talked as Spann followed with a vaguely annoyed look on her face – and at a word from Preston several of the black-clad workers scurried away to another part of the warehouse Miranda couldn’t see.

What the fuck was going on here?

Moving quietly, Miranda slunk back into the main room, keeping as close to the wall as she could to avoid detection. Somehow, she managed to make it to the opposite hall without getting caught.

She mentally patted herself on the back.  

A cadre of gleaming metal doors met her gaze as she turned to survey her surroundings and she huffed in annoyance.

Of course, there wasn’t going to be a big blinking sign with ‘Shady Business Dealings’ pointing her in the right direction.  

Listening hard for any movement she gingerly began testing the doors.  

Locked, locked, locked... jackpot.

The hinges were silent as the unlocked office slid open, allowing Miranda to slip inside.

Fuck, that’s a lot of black.

The room looked like something Marilyn Manson would approve of – Hot Topic chic at its lamest.  

‘All you guys are missing is the evil cat... literally one step from cartoon villainy...’

A soft snort of amusement escaped Miranda as she wandered through the office – glancing casually at the thin folders – black – the computer – black – the gleaming desk – also black... until she came to a stack of half a dozen video tapes. All labeled with what looked to be city names and some numerical indicator.  

The closest case read ‘Miami #1’ in neat print.

Glancing back to the doorway, Miranda strained for any sound indicating someone was coming her way.

Nothing.

She gently lowered herself into the desk chair and reached to tap on the keyboard, bringing the computer back to life.

The desk drawers were unlocked, allowing her to peer inside as she waited for the home screen to pop up.  

She reached into the depth of one and carefully withdrew a large, mean-looking knife with a serrated double-spine. There were small flecks of brown embedded in the ridges.

Shit...

This was getting worse and worse by the second.  

Maybe her initial panicked thought that Jesse was into gun-smuggling or drug-dealing hadn’t been too far off.

Either way, she owed it to herself and any future she might have with her husband to find out the truth.

Hesitantly, Miranda slowly inserted ‘Miami #1’ into the computer’s drive.

She pressed play.

“... I know you only paid for a blowjob but... don’t you want a little more?”

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

“Jesse, there’s been some questions raised as to your ability to continue on as the head of this Organization.”

The nitrile gloves stretched to near breaking as Jesse’s hands clenched.

He just bet there had...

There were very few people in the world who could bring ChromeSkull to heel and unfortunately the five faces staring at him from beyond the large screen in his office fit that description.

The Board felt the need to directly step-in for the first time in over a decade.

Jesse had made sure this was a very, very rare occurrence.

Efficiency and brutality were his trademark, no matter how Preston whined that he was too showy; he got the god damn job done.

For the last eight years as he’d led the Organization after his grandfather retired, he could count on one hand the amount of times he’d talked to all of the board members at once.

His fingers flew angrily across the keyboard.

‘Whatever information you’ve been given is incorrect. My injuries are healing and I’m ready to continue the work.’

An older man with a large handlebar moustache raised a bushy brow at his answer.

“It ain’t so much that you’re not healin’ well. It’s the... Aw hell... how do I say this... It’s your outside relationships we’re concerned about.”

A stern looking woman took over.

“Our source has reservations about your wife – and how she might be influencing your behaviors.”

Jesse blinked behind his mask.

‘My wife has nothing to do with my business here.’

“Except apparently, as of yesterday, she does. Is it not correct that she’s there in the facility with you now?”

If Jesse could have, he would have strangled Preston on the spot.

‘She is.’

“And did you or did you not fall into a ‘emotional state’ when a criticism of your wife’s presence was made?”

‘If you're asking if I disciplined my insubordinate second for making an off-color comment about my pregnant wife, then yes. I did.’

Jesse felt what was left of his lips curl into a snarl at the memory.

‘...And I’ll do a lot more than that when I get my hands on him after this ridiculous waste of time is finished...’ he mentally promised.

Significant glances were sent from board member to board member and Jesse felt his stomach sink.

“I think we’ve heard enough...”

Jesse slammed his fist into the desk, leaving a dent in the metal surface and bringing all attention back to him.

‘You could at least say ‘thank you’ for handling your Cannon problem before we part ways.’

That visibly surprised the five people on the screen.

“What do you mean?”

Gotcha.

‘Jessica Cannon is here. Sleeping off a nice cocktail of sedatives in a coffin.’

Jesse leaned back in his chair as murmurs of disbelief and shock rattled across the computer speakers.

“... That’s very interesting news, Jesse. When did this happen?”

‘Probably while Preston was busy feeding you all his load of bullshit. Sorry, I was getting some real work done.’

“You know who she is then?”

Jesse smirked.

‘You mean, do I know who her father is? Yes. I’m aware. Feel free to send him a little love note. I’ve already forwarded my video files to your server.’

Another quietly muttered conversation crackled over the speaker.

“Alright Jesse. We’ll keep things status-quo for now. But you need to clean house.”

‘I couldn’t agree more...’  

Preston was going to wish he’d never been born once Jesse was done with him.

His torturous plotting was interrupted by one final voice.

“And that includes your wife. Bring her onboard or... handle her. We can’t have loose ends.”

The screen went black.  

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

Miranda stared into the blackness on the computer feeling everything and nothing all at once.

A hysterical voice in her head was yelling how that had certainly explained a lot.

The long business trips, the unexplained scars, the fucking three months without a word.

She supposed getting your face ripped off and your skull bashed in would make video chats a little awkward.

The next thing she knew she was crouching on the cold cement floor emptying her stomach into the waste basket.

All those bodies... those women in the barn... her husband... her Jesse... holding the knife currently sitting so placidly on the desk and using it to decapitate a naked, crying blonde...

She vomited again as the gruesome pictures looped through her head.

She’d been in shock at the end of ‘Miami #1’. Her fingers were trembling and her mind racing as she quickly fed ‘Miami #2’ into the player.

Now she wasn’t sure what she was feeling besides horror.

And there were so many more tapes...

One of the drawers held fucking dozens of them.

Miranda lifted herself to lean against the desk and began to ram her coiled hand into it as hard as she could.

The pain felt... exquisite.

Tears began to stream down her face and her mouth shifted into a rictus grin as she saw smears of blood start to stain where her fists collided with the solid surface.

The clatter of metal on cement made her pause, and her gaze shifted from the blood-stained desk to the razor-sharp knife that had been knocked to the floor as she’d rattled it’s resting place.

Miranda choked out a laugh.

How many people had died on the edge of this knife? How many wives? Husbands? Sons? Daughters?

Why was she the exception to Jesse’s bloodlust?

Maybe she wouldn’t be.  

Maybe that would be the eventual end to all this.

Wife murdered by serial-killing husband.

How anti-climactic.

She reached out and took the knife in her bloodied hand. Dispassionately taking in every little detail as the dull roar of her thoughts got louder and louder.  

A sob echoed through the office as she leveled the sharp edge to her wrist and pressed down.

[bigprincess-energy]

When the Bones are Good, the Rest Don’t Matter - Part 2

I finally finished the second and final chapter to this, hoorah!  TW: Blood and Miscarrying

--- 

As the summer months continued on, Eurydice experienced June in a new and unfamiliar way. The air smelled sweeter, the sky was more vibrant, flowers more lively in their colouring. Between Orpheus, who always saw the world for the best that it could be, and the pregnancy hormones, perhaps she was becoming softer. Her once jagged and jaded edges dulling. Orpheus had always inspired hope within her, hope for a better and brighter tomorrow. It was no different with her pregnancy. Despite all of the anxieties, the crippling fear that took over her from time to time would subdue with just a simple smile from her lover. 

Orpheus had always looked at Eurydice like she had individually hung each of the stars in the sky, but now from the way his eyes lit up and a big playful grin took over his face, one might suspect he believed she had created the universe. In a way she had and she was, Eurydice was his world, anyone could tell that. Now Eurydice was harbouring a new life, their baby that they had created together out of love, hope, and springtime sunshine. Their family, his universe. 

Typically, Eurydice would spend her evenings at the bar, working behind the counter while Orpheus played to the patrons. Hermes and Orpheus had tried to convince her that she didn’t need to work, and maybe shouldn’t work because she was with child, but she brushed off their commentary as she slipped on her apron before a shift. She was pregnant, not helpless. Plus she liked the company, shifts flew by as she chatted with Persphone and regulars while cleaning glasses and Orpheus’ music filled the air. However this evening she had opted to say home, a particularly bad episode of morning sickness had ruined her day and left the young girl feeling emotionally and physically exhausted. No one had objected to her request. 

Eurydice used the free evening to tidy around the house, washing the dishes left in the sink from dinner, sweeping the floors and fluffing pillows. Their home was so small it didn’t take more than 15 minutes to clean, but Eurydice took pride in her small accomplishment of the day. Standing in the center of their home Eurydice looked around, making a mental checklist of how the space would change when the baby arrived. Orpheus would have to be better about leaving pencils laying around on the floor of their home. There would need to be space for a crib, then one day a room of their own. A new shelf for toys and books, someplace for a mini version of Orpheus’ lyre to live when their child inevitability began to play music. Letting her imagination wander Eurydice pictured cozy nights curled up next to the fire listening to Orpheus strum while rocking the baby to sleep, and when they are older springtime gardening lessons with Persephone and hide and go seek games at the bar with Hermes. 

Unsure of what else to do with herself, Eurydice opted to take a shower before retiring to bed for the evening. The warm water rinsed the day away and the young girl finally felt herself relax. After turning off the water she quickly dried herself off, using the same towel to wipe down the steam fogging over the mirror above their bathroom sink. Before she had met Orpheus her body was made out of harsh lines, bones clearly visible through her flesh. No longer was she sharp edges but rather softness and curves. Staring at herself Eurydice ran a hand over her belly, changing angles in hope of seeing even the smallest evidence of a bump. Of course, it was much too early for any such thing, three months had not yet passed before the date she assumed conception had taken place. Previously, little things like these had never would have distracted Eurydice’s mind. She couldn’t help but feel giddy at the thought of showing the bump to her husband, seeing his expression when he felt the baby kick for the first time. This new life meant a whole new collection of firsts they would experience together, it was difficult to hold back her excitement. Orpheus was going to be a wonderful father, and knowing he was going to be by her side throughout this adventure, it made the impossible seem possible. 

Despite knowing she had already dried herself off completely, a wetness lingered between Eurydice’s thighs. Still lost in a daydream of firsts, she mindlessly picked up the towel and dried herself off again, paying no attention to the action. Eurydice continued with her nightly routine, brushing her teeth and pulling her hair back before her attention was brought back again to the warm, wet feeling on her leg. Once more she reached for the towel, this time pressing it into her skin as if that would make the difference between this attempt and the previous ones. Instead of letting the towel fall to the floor as she had the previous time however, Eurydice placed it on the sink before she turned to reach for her pajamas. Out of the corner of her eye, a flash of red, bold and harsh against the soft buttercream yellow of the towel caught her attention. 

Instinctually her hand shot down between her legs and she felt for the first time that the wetness was not lingering water from the shower but hot, thick blood traveling down her skin. Her hand shook as she lifted her fingers to her face, the evidence no longer deniable. Shock jolted through her body, stomach violently cramping, causing her knees to buckle beneath her. Desperately Eurydice flailed her arms out to grab onto something, anything to ground her. Her fingertips found the cool porcelain of the sink’s edge, the pristine white material now stained with blood. 

She was no longer present in her body. Rather she was standing outside of it, watching like a bystander as she lost what she had considered a part of herself. Her body slumped against the sink before crumpling to the floor. Blood continued to pool around her, deep, dark and unforgiving. Her eyes followed her hand, reaching down to touch the substance as it cooled against the tile floor. 

The cramping persisted, merciless in its force as Eurydice pulled herself up into a semi-seated position against the edge of the tub. Shifting her legs caused the blood staining the floor to smear, a graphic reminder of what was happening to her. Using all of her remaining strength, the girl dragged her body into the tub, a trail of blood mapping out each of her movements. Eurydice refused to let herself look at the red streaks, focusing purely on turning on the water. Her hand finally grasped the knob, pulling and twisting it to release hot water against her flesh. Slowly the tub began to fill, covering her feet then rising up, surrounding her legs and stomach in warmth. 

***

Orpheus was on cloud nine. A group had come into the bar with a celebration mentality and money to spare. Often on a good night, the tip jar which lived at the foot of the stage would be half full of crumpled bills and tarnished coins. Tonight was a great night, he had played well and the patrons of the bar were more than happy to compensate him for the joy his music brought them. Of course, he had missed glancing up from his fretboard to see his wife, to catch her eye and smile at her from across the room. The anticipation of seeing her eyes light up as he shared with her the surprise weighing down his pocket made up for her absence, and more than anything he was relieved she was finally taking a break. 

The boy returned home to darkness. He stepped quietly around the space, avoiding any creaky floorboards or half-finished sets of lyrics he had left on the ground earlier. While he was hoping his wife might still be awake they often didn’t return from the bar until the witching hours of the early morning. A small smile crept onto his lips as he pictured Eurydice curled into herself asleep in their bed, peaceful and resting, cradled by sweet dreams.

Before he could enter their bedroom he noticed a faint light seeping out into the darkness from under the bathroom door. It wasn’t like Eurydice to leave lights on, she often did a loop around the house before bed to make sure everything was off for the evening. Using his forefinger he knocked gently on the door, whispering Eurydice’s name. When no response came from the other side, the boy assumed she had left the light on for him and opened the door. As he stepped into the tiny bathroom he felt around blindly on the sink’s edge for his toothbrush, the brightness of the light in contrast to the darkness Orpheus had previously been standing in stringing his eyes. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust when they finally did Orpheus could barely breathe, taking in the scene around him. 

There was Eurydice, naked and quivering in the tub filled with water tinted a pinkish brown, clutching her knees to her chest. Streaks of dried blood painted the tile flooring and towel stained with the same rust colour lay abandoned on the floor. Without a second thought, Orpheus was on his knees. There wasn’t time for thinking or feeling, he couldn’t process what he had walked into, all he knew was that he needed to get Eurydice out of the tub. 

“‘Rydice?” Orpheus whispered, his voice cracking. 

Since entering the bathroom her hollow eyes had stayed locked on the wall. There was no acknowledgment of his presence aside from the occasional whimper escaping her lips. Picking himself up from his kneeling position, Orpheus bent down and placed an arm under the crook of her bended knees. No one would describe the poet as strong, but he managed to scoop up Eurydice, drenching his shirt sleeves in the process. In his arms, Eurydice felt lighter than she ever had, even after Hadestown. At this moment the world was still and silent, the only sound echoing off of the bathroom walls came from water droplets falling from her skin, plinking quietly as they made contact with the water below.

Balancing the frail girl in his arms, Orpheus managed to lay a clean towel across her body and maneuver his way out of the bathroom and into their bedroom. The mess left behind would be a problem for tomorrow, stains could be wiped away, now all that mattered was making sure Eurydice was alright. Carefully he sat her against their bed, her back supported by the headboard. Taking the towel from her he began to dry her skin, looking for any signs that could explain what he had walked in on. There were no knicks in her flesh, no gashes to explain the amount of blood she had lost. Confusion clouded the poet’s thoughts as he continued to move the towel up her thighs, to her stomach. 

Before he could press the towel to her stomach, Eurydice’s hand shot up and wrapped around his wrist, nails digging painfully into Orpheus’ skin. “Rydice,” He began but was cut off by the pain radiating from his wrist. Orpheus looked up to his wife, slightly shocked and terrified by what met him. In her eyes something feral glared back at him, wild with its teeth bared in a defensive stance. This Eurydice was unfamiliar to Orpheus, perhaps they had met once before the first time he had approached her at the bar, but even then this look didn’t scare him as much as it did now. Orpheus moved his hand back gently, and Eurydice loosened her grip, but not before her nails left deep, red crescent marks along his pale flesh. 

Orpheus continued to shift his body with great caution, not wanting to set something off in Eurydice once more. Now sitting to her side, slightly behind her, the poet reached his arm out, gently placing it around her shoulder and pulling her body into his. The tiniest sigh of relief slipped from his lips as he felt her lean into his embrace ever so slightly, her head tilting to rest upon his chest. Orpheus continued to hold her, reaching up to stroke her hair or leaning down to press a kiss to his temple on occasion, to remind her that he was there. The poor boy was in the dark, literally about what had transpired this evening. Despite his yearning for answers the poet continued to sit quietly, cradling his lover in his arms. There they sat in silence, a terrified young girl and a confused boy as minutes ticked by into the wee hours of the new day. It wasn’t until Orpheus felt tears falling against his chest that he finally decided to speak. 

“Eurydice?” He whispered into the night, his fingers softly caressing the skin of her shoulder. Eurydice couldn’t form words, they caught in her throat and choked her like smoke, all she could do was whimper meekly in response.

“What happened love?” Orpheus asked, his voice shaking slightly. 

The girl whimpered again, turning her head fully into his chest. Trickling tears transformed into strangled sobs, her body shaking with each breath. Instantly his arms were around her, clutching her to him in desperation. Eurydice continued to sob, the sound violently vibrating through her. How could she tell him? How could she look into his eyes, his kind hazel eyes, full of hope and sunlight, and tell him what had happened? 

Nothing pained Orpheus more than this, watching helplessly as the love of his life suffered. He wanted to help, no he needed to. He needed to feel useful, to support her through this, unlike now when he felt like a failure. He didn’t want to push her, but without answers what could he do? How could he provide for her? 

“Rydice,” he pleaded gently with her, rubbing small circles on her back with his thumb. “Are you and the baby alright? All you have to do is nod or shake your head, that’s all. I just…” He signed softy, the breath catching in his throat. “I need to know you’re okay, love.” 

In his arms, Eurydice went still, sobs no longer trembling through her. Orpheus’ hand traveled down slowly, inching along her skin before resting on her stomach. At his touch she flinched back, inhaling sharply. For the first time that evening, Eurydice looked up at Orpheus, her heart shattering as she noticed the glinting of tears welling up in his eyes. Taking a deep, shaky breath the young girl timidly shook her head, a response to his question. Orpheus simply nodded, before pulling his wife into his arms, silent tears rolling down his cheeks. 

There they stayed as night turned to dusk and morning light shone through the curtains, holding each other. There they sat together in mourning, grieving what they had lost, tears abundant. Together they had built an unbreakable foundation that no storm could crack. These clouds too would pass over and they would begin to rebuild.

[authoressskr]

Amok

Characters: Reader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Gabriel, Castiel, Jack Kline, Gadreel, Samandriel, Balthazar, Rowena, Jody Mills, Donna, Valkyrie, and Chuck as God  ::  Warnings: Language and not much else...  ::  Word Count: 4295

This was written for @sdavid09​ Tale Teller’s 2019 Halloween Challenge!!

Prompt: My chosen movie was Hocus Pocus! Let’s play spot all the references!

Note: Please do NOT repost, copy & paste, post or share my works on any other platform without my EXPRESS PERMISSION.

-+- REBLOGGING is fine and very appreciated! -+-

You woke up on a damp, cold floor with your head throbbing.

A quick look around the dark room confirmed your suspicions of not knowing where you were.

Nothing looked familiar, but then nothing came to mind on what normal was supposed to be exactly.

“Ahh. She has awakened, I see,” A higher-pitched male voice comes from your left, stepping into the dim moonlight shining in through a dirty and cracked window.

“Who are you?” You ask, voice not shaking in the slightest, something in your mind reassuring you that you were never alone for long and that help would come.

“Don’t you remember? You came in and took out my whole nest...three weeks ago such a long time ago to you, little Winchester?”

“Winchester?” You repeat, furrowing your brow as that name sparks something in your head, something that makes the throbbing worse.

“That witch did a number on you didn’t she? She should have for what I paid her, after all. But to see it actually work - to have a Winchester at my mercy...it’s quite the power high,” He smiles down at you, revealing an emerging second set of teeth that had your eyes widening as you moved back towards the wall.

Something in your memory was shouting ‘HEAD’ on repeat as if that meant anything to you.

The monster creeps closer, chuckling before he gets within arms reach. That’s when you toss the chain you’d found shackled to your left wrist around his throat in a loop and jump on his back as you tighten the chain. Instinct is driving your actions and with your head throbbing, you don’t question it. At this point, it’s either him or you.

Only when his head is severed from his body does your brain reassure you it’s okay. You manage to clumsily pick the lock and stumble your way out of the little shack and into the misty moonlight, chain wrapped loosely in your hand should anything else with extra teeth and murder in its heart come for you.

“Winchester,” You repeat to the darkness, taking solace in the name to which you now claimed ownership.

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“She’s been gone for nearly two whole days, Sam! And no one’s seen her! Gabe just found her car...Jack found her cell behind the gas station!”

“I just spoke to the deputy she spoke with that afternoon. He said they had a drink at lunch while she wrapped up her case. Said she left early - got a call from someone named Jody. I just called Jody and she said that she did call, that she was supposed to come to see her and the girls in a day or two with us and Cas. I told her she was gone. She put out a BOLO in case her car broke down or something. But I’ll have to call her back and let her know she’ll have to cancel that since we have her car. I thought the angels could track her down?”

“They think whoever took her, took her jewelry. Which is what they’d added micro amounts of their grace to.”

“All her jewelry?”

“That’s what they’re saying...what was that Jack?”

“What’d he say?”

“Jack said they found her jewelry. Along with vamp blood and blue powder.”

“A witch and a vampire working together?”

“That’s the look of it right now, Sam.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah,” Dean gives a heavy sigh. “Look, just call Jody, tell her to amend the BOLO. I’m headed over to where the angels are right now.”

“Okay, Dean. Just-just let me know alright?”

“I will, Sammy. We’ll find her.”

“I know, Dean,” Dean gives a short nod even though Sam can’t see, worry clawing at his belly for his baby sister.

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You’re dragging the piece of chain loosely in your hand as you stumble into the run-down cemetery in the dawning light, passing a worn and headless statue tombstone of a Mr. William Butcherson.

A dry chuckle escapes your throat as you think of what you’d done and the weather-decimated stone...a thought passes through your blank-memoried mind. PRAY.

Huh. It seems like an odd thing to be religious when you’d just murdered a monster. Although he kidnapped you, so you suppose that helped tipped the scales in your favor. If anyone was keeping score, that is.

Taking a deep breath, you begin - stumbling over the words in your head a little before a loud and oddly familiar rumbling sound yanks you back to your circumstances as you press yourself closer to the stone and ground simultaneously.

Unsure of whom to trust just yet, you slip behind a taller tombstone cluster to your left to watch as a tall man with short brown hair and another man, nearly the same height with black hair and a trenchcoat exit from the long, sleek black Chevy Impala.

Wait - how did you know it was an Impala? Maybe you were related to gear heads? Maybe you were one?

“Y/N!!” The lighter colored hair man shouts in a deep voice, closing the car door firmly behind him. “You’re sure this is where you heard the prayer?”

You gasp as pain stabs your head, remembering this man shout your name in a dark cemetery, in a well-lit warehouse, and in a hotel hallway...of him covering your body with his protectively...but no name comes to your mind. But at least you know he’s safe. You know him - and you love him, you’re sure of it with the warmth spreading through your chest.

You ease carefully out from behind the tombstone, none too gracefully due to the painful throbbing in your head, raising the hand with the chain in acknowledgment as you come into his line of sight.

“Y/N!!” His voice is relieved this time when he shouts it, the tall man’s legs eating up the ground as he comes closer, wrapping you in his strong arms and squeezing tight. “I’m glad we found you, kid.” He pulls back, bright green eyes scanning over your face. “Y/N?”

“I don’t know if I’m alright,” Tears come unbidden to your eyes, making him frown. “I don’t know what my name is. I don’t know your name! My head hurts. I know I know you. I saw like, um, flashbacks or something in my head when I saw you get out of the car. I knew it was an Impala. I don’t know how I knew that...and I decapitated some guy with extra teeth with this chain. I don’t know how I knew to do that. I-I-I don’t-can’t remember anything!” You shove your face into his chest and sob, hearing an odd fluttering all around you before you feel a large hand on your shoulder.

“Shh. You’ll be okay, princess. Your big brothers got you,” The man confirms with conviction before he lays his cheek against the top of your head, your hand going lax and the chain slipping from your fingertips as you cling tightly to his shirt.

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Sam looks at his sister, curled up on the motel bed with no memory of who she is or who they are.

They’ve figured out it’s more than likely a witch and that she has the ability to remember, it’s just terribly painful and causes her nose to bleed quite a bit.

This wasn’t like Dean descending into nothingness or his stint in soullessness, this was different. Very different.

They’d taken everything from her.

She ran on instinct - luckily for them, it’s Winchester instinct - but she had nothing to go on.

No family memories, no favorite color, no nothing.

The angels were all hovering which wasn’t helping matters since she couldn’t recall any of them, plus she was tired, cold and was unsure of her surroundings. She remembered Dean through flashbacks but she just knew she could trust him, not that he was her big brother.

Gabriel and Balthazar seemed to be the ones distancing themselves the most, carefully watching over everything and volunteering first to go on the witch hunt. Jack had happily watched Scooby-Doo and then Hocus Pocus with her while they ate, sitting cross-legged on the floor with mouthfuls of Chinese food as she asked him questions. She hummed along with Bette Midler when she sang “I Put A Spell on You”, no one commenting on how she knew that.

To Dean it almost reminded him of when they were younger, her and Sam sitting on the floor in front of a tv while he helped research.

Jack seems to enjoy helping her, using the same tender care she had shown to him when explaining things or showing her things. She wants a shower after the movie ends, quietly asking what bag is hers before taking a pair of leggings and a black tank top in with her. She emerges a handful of minutes later, further worrying Sam and Dean. Dad used to make you shower last since you liked to take so long - whether advertently or inadvertently. A shaky yawn escapes from her lips before they watch from the corner of their eyes as she bundles up in Dean’s flannel he’d tossed on one of the beds before curling up on that bed with the blanket from the Impala she had refused to part with, wound around her.

The angels don’t come back until she’s sound asleep.

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When you wake up, there are a lot of men in the room. Whispering.

You’d learned their names yesterday evening but they were difficult ones, so you’d repeated them in your head until they stuck with the right face.

Balthazar is the average height one with short blonde hair and sharp blue eyes. He gives you smirks that don’t seem to have any humor behind them.

Gadreel is nearly as tall as Sam, with short-cropped dark hair and these soft green eyes that seem to hold a lot of pain. He’s broad-shouldered and very helpful, with a jawline that could probably cut glass.

Samandriel’s name is the easiest to remember since Dean had told you that Sam was your brother too. Short Sam and Big Sam. Samandriel was as young-looking as Jack but with very ancient eyes.

Gabriel has eyes of molten honey and he puts on a good face, but you seem to see through it for some reason. And although his mouth smiles, it doesn’t reach those golden orbs. He seems the most troubled of all of them, not a natural leader but they all seem to sort of follow his lead to an extent.

Castiel is the one in the trenchcoat from earlier, with the bluest sapphire eyes you’ve ever beheld. You get the notion he wants to do what’s right...all the time. And that hasn’t always panned out for him.

Your brother Sam is the tallest person in probably any room he’s ever entered, his hazel eyes are kind but burdened. He’s a bookish smart with a serious side of muscle. He’s more likely to try to think his way out of a situation than fight, which sounds reasonable to you if not for the nagging suspicion that Dean is just as intelligent as Sam, he just relies more on his muscle and weapons. Sam sees the world in certain shades of gray, Dean in black, white with a light gray and dark gray section and you think that you see the entire world in a myriad of grays, blacks, and whites.

You aren’t sure why you feel you should keep that information to yourself. Like you aren’t supposed to say that out loud that not all monsters are bad and not all humans are good. You also keep thinking about two figures swirling in a dark mist from your dreams, one man and one woman. The word demon seems to echo through the mist of your mind, furthering the thoughts that roll around in your head as they discuss what needs to be done to find the witch, basically ignoring you.

Which is better right now than being treated like a baby.

You were capable. You’d killed a monster all by yourself! Multiple ones if that vampire wasn’t lying.

“Hungry?” Gadreel asks softly, eyes like soft green grass on the moors.

“No. Thank you though.” He gives a little nod before wandering a few steps away, watching as you sit up and look around. Panic sets in. “Where’s Dean?” Another scan of the room. “Where’s Sam?” Tightness clutches at your throat before a wave of guilt washes over you at the looks on all of their faces.

“They’ll be right back. Sam went to get some ingredients and Dean is outside rooting around in the Impala. Just outside,” Jack soothes with a soft smile, Castiel nodding behind him before the door opens to reveal both of your brothers. You nearly cry with relief seeing those large shoulders come through the door.

You tilt your head as a short red-headed woman comes into the room after them, forehead furrowed at this new arrival.

“Oh, the wee Winchester didnae remember a thing, does she?”

“A flower or tree.”

“What?” Sam asks, closing the door firmly behind the woman.

“Your name. A flower or a tree. And a smell of sulfur.” You wrinkle up your nose as pain ripples through your head once more before you wince.

“Ah. Yes, I know that spell. And the witch proficient in it. Sabella, she’s a bitch for hire.”

“Can you reverse it?”

“Of course. But it’ll be difficult on the lass Winchester. All her memories returning in the form of a massive, throbbing, nauseating mass. I’ll have to do it in two parts so as not to send her into shock.” She raises a red eyebrow at you, easing forward. “Would you like to remember?”

“Of course.”

“So you consent to the pain?”

“Princess, life is pain. And if anyone tells you differently, they’re selling something.”

“Amusing. She didn’t use an ingredient correctly if you can remember certain things. It should be a total blank.” She graces you with a bright smile. “Lucky for you.”

“My angels don’t like you smiling at me like that.”

“Your angels, deary?” You turn to look at Gabriel, who gives you a firm nod.

“Yes. Mine.”

“Well, certainly couldn’t remove all the Winchester in ya, could she?”

“Winchesters never say die.”

“That’s the Goonies,” Dean murmurs from behind you. “What do you need, Rowena?”

“I’ll make you a list, Dean dear. Her angels can help. Some ingredients would be harder for you and Samuel to obtain in broad daylight.”

“Don’t bet on it,” Dean snaps, wandering over to the little kitchenette table and checking over his gun before tucking into the back of his pants.

“Dead man’s toes,” Rowena says very seriously which makes your laughter all the more unexpected apparently.

“Dead man’s toes! Dead man’s toes! Dead! Dead!” You quote with a bright, giddy smile. “Do you also need a virgin to light a black flame candle?”

“Okay, no more Hocus Pocus for you,” Sam chuckles out as you frown.

“No one died and made you the boss of me, sir.”

“You know, with all that sass intact, it is hard to believe that she lost all her memories…” Balthazar comments with a wide grin, winking at you when you turn towards him.

“She’ll be more than likely in a nice hotel bar,” Rowena interrupts, flicking open one of the books on the table with a red-tipped fingernail. “And she knows the Winchesters, so it’ll need to be one of the others who moves in.”

You grab your head, remembering sitting in a bar with the tightest dress you owned and slinky red heels, your fingers dancing along the collar of the man from your dream - the one with the short hair, beard and the pretty brown eyes - both of you making small talk as Dean sits at the bar with Castiel.

“What’d you remember?” Sam asks gently, leading you to the end of the bed while Samandriel hands you a wet washcloth for your nose.

“Thank you,” You manage shakily. “A man. All in black with a nice silk tie with red decorations. He had short hair and brown eyes and a beard. I know him. I dreamed about him in a mist. My head said demon but he was helping me...helping us. I like him. What’s his name?”

“Crowley,” Castiel supplies for you.

“Crowley,” You try the name out. “But there’s another. Something else. I was talking to him in a bar, wearing a tight dress and red heels and I called him something else…”

“Fergus,” Rowena answers as she stares at you, something dancing through her eyes at his name.

“That’s it! I called him that. He scowled at me and then smiled when he took a drink of his scotch,” You swallow hard. “It sounded nice - not like I was being mean,” Tears begin slipping down your face. “Why am I crying?”

“He’s gone. He sacrificed himself to keep Lucifer in the alternate universe.” You stare blankly at him, washcloth pressed firmly to your nose still.

“That ice-cold bastard better still be there, suffering. I liked Crowley.”

“How do you know he’s cold, wee Winchester?”

“I saw him when I saw Sam falling and then in like, um, a library or something being a smartass to Sam. And in a big room with Gabriel. That was the first time Gabriel kissed me.”

“It was, sugar lump,” Gabriel affirms from his spot leaning against the little kitchen counter, a soft smile finally shining in his eyes to match the one on his handsome face. You manage a smile back around the washcloth, sighing as the pain ebbs a little away.

“This town only has two nice hotel bars. Balthazar and Cas will go to one and Sam’ll be in the parking lot as a backup. Gabe, Gad and I will go to the other one. Samandriel and Jack will stay here with Y/N and Rowena.”

“Why do I have to stay?”

“Can you identify her?” Dean asks, pushing a burger wrapper away from an inscribed knife on the table.

“Well, no.”

“And that’s why you’re staying here, kid.”

“Fine,” You snap out unhappily. Something in you doesn’t like being sidelined. You wrinkle your nose a little, thinking. “Hey, on a totally unrelated thought, is there like a pet we have that is being looked after?”

“You have a puppy!” Jack crows happily, unlocking his phone to show you a picture of all of you posing for a picture, a little golden dog in your arms. “That’s Valkyrie. Mostly we call her Val. Cas dropped her off at Jody’s for the girls to watch.”

You nod, letting him choose another movie to watch as the others prepare quickly and get ready to go.

“I think I should go with you, Dean, darling,” Rowena purrs out, her accent making your lips quirk up in a smile. “We’ll need to be quick. Whoever doesn’t find her can get the rest of the ingredients and then can come here to make sure that the reversal worked.”

“Fine!” Dean snaps as Sam’s hand came to cup the back of your head before kissing the top of it.

“Call us if you need anything, okay?”

“Of course, Sam.”

Dean’s face morphs from frustrated to soft as he repeats what Sam had done. “We’ll get you all fixed up, don’t worry, princess.” You tilt your head back to look up at him, the conviction written on his face.

“I know you will, Dean. You two always take care of me.” They both nod before leaving with most of your angels in tow, Rowena bringing up the rear as she sends you off with a little wave.

“Can we watch Hocus Pocus again?” You request as soon as you hear the rumble of the Impala fade away.

“Of course!” Jack answers as Samandriel tries to hide an eye roll.

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You’d fallen asleep again - each time you remembered something it’s like it sucked all the energy out of you - and when you awoke, everything was dark. There was no light from the window with it’s almost sheer, worn curtains and no lights on in the room. Panic crept in as you slipped from the bed and onto the floor, reaching for the gun you knew was hidden under Sam’s pillow. As your eyes somewhat adjust, you make out a figure sitting at the little green metal and plastic table.

“If you could have anything right now, what would it be?” The man is about your height, with short but thick looking hair and almost glowing blue eyes. Something pricks at your mind when you see his eyes, something torn in your mind about how to feel about him…

“Dean said I’m not to make deals with demons,” His mirthful laughter echoes through the tiny room.

“You really have forgotten so much, Y/N…” He leans forward, bracing his elbows on his knees as some moonlight finally finds its way through the window. “I’m prepared to give you anything you ask for since you’ve taken such wonderful care of my sons. Taught them a lot. Loved them better than I could have ever hoped.”

“Can I have two things?” His eyebrows raise but his face is still stoic.

“We’ll see. What are they?”

“First, I want Crowley and Meg back.” His forehead furrows as if that isn’t what he expected.

“Not your memories?”

“My brothers will make sure I get them back, so no need to be wasteful.”

“Really can’t break that Winchester faith in each other, huh?”

“Without them, there is no me. And without me, there is no them. That much I am absolutely sure of.”

“What is the second thing?”

“I’d like Benny back too.”

“You want two demons and a vampire returned to Earth?”

“They’re in that black place...where there is nothing. And I miss them, I can’t explain it, but I miss them. And Benny, he didn’t deserve to be in Purgatory not after sacrificing himself for us to get Sam and Bobby back. If you were a fairer God, you’d have already known why.”

“It is not written that I am fair.”

“I also miss Chuck. The prophet and writer. At least he seemed to care about his children and us. You left and haven’t tried to help since,” You feel the blood trickling down your lips, glaring at Him. “You and Lucifer are cut from the same cloth. I see now why he was your favorite.”

“Sharp words for someone who can’t remember much.”

“I don’t need to remember every detail to know you’re not a good being.”

“I never claimed to be. But I like you - your brothers provide so much in my stories, but you, you’ve always been so sensitive and soft. Locked in a life that should have broken you and yet it only made you more compassionate. Astounding, really. And then you surprise me by asking for two demons and a vampire. Not your memories or a future with your soulmate - the one I know you so desperately crave... but of others,” He huffs out a breath as though this bothers him before rubbing a hand over his beard. “We’ll see. Your brothers have just killed the witch, so your memories will be returning in a few minutes when Rowena finishes the spell. It’s been nice talking with you. And don’t worry, you’ll remember this… Happy Samhain.”

The room darkens to where you can’t see at all before lightening back to how it was when He was there.

“It’s Halloween?” You furrow your brow before tucking the gun back in its designated spot and heading to the bathroom for another washcloth to clean up the blood. All you see is spots dancing before your eyes before crashing into the bathroom door and sliding down it to the bathroom floor.

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“And that’s how I lost and got back my memories,” You take a hearty sip of your hot chocolate as Jody and Donna stare at you with open gaped mouths, Crowley and Meg rolling their eyes almost simultaneously while Benny pushes the last brownie towards you. Gabriel is right beside you on your left, Gadreel on your right, Jack standing just behind you like a sweet little bodyguard with Val wrapped in his arms.

“That’s mostly how it happened,” Dean corrects, leaning back in Jody’s wooden kitchen chair.

“I can’t believe you wasted a perfectly good request from God on him,” Balthazar snarks, murder glaring at the demon who was king.

“What was I supposed to ask for? Harsher sentences for parole violators and world peace?” Sam nearly chokes on his beer before scowling at you good-naturedly.

“Miss Congeniality,” Dean supplies after taking a long pull of his beer.

“Still loving those chick flicks, I see,” Meg smirks at him, Castiel sitting right next to her. You felt a pang when you saw them together again after so long...finally confirming for yourself that Cas would never be yours.

Gadreel’s hand on your knee brings you back to the warmly lit kitchen at 3 am surrounded by people who loved and cared for you.

“I hate Halloween,” Dean mutters as he clears the table of his beer bottles, stopping to kiss the top of your head - like he’d done as far back as you can remember. You move to help as Rowena fusses over her son, something that doesn’t seem to shock Crowley as much as you’d thought it would.

When you get close enough, you wrap your arms around Dean’s middle, pressing your cheek against his back and inhaling his scent.

“I love you, big brother.”

“And I love you, kid,” He rumbles out softly as he pats your wrapped arms lovingly.

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