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phoward89 · 9 months ago

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Series Masterlist

Chapter 3:

After stitching you up, Coryo cleaned your wounds (again) and then found you a cotton nightgown from the meager clothes basket near your bed. He came up to your side, only to pull the blanket off of you and help you sit up. You let out a whine of pain, despite having morphling in your system, which made him coo, “I know it hurts, darling. I know.” Sighing, he held up the nightgown. “We need to get you into your nightgown so you don't get cold.”

“I'm shocked you care if I freeze or not.” You muttered under your breath while holding your arms up; signaling that Coryo could help you into the gown.

You thought you were quiet enough so he wouldn't hear you, but you're wrong. Coryo heard you.

And your words grated on him. How could you ever think that he couldn't care if you were cold? Coriolanus knows how it feels to be freezing in an apartment that's falling apart while going starving; he never wants that for you.

Ever.

You're all alone; you need him. He'll never turn his back on you, now that you're his girl. Coryo's going to bring you back to the Capitol with him; make you his wife.

Why? Because you make him feel powerful, that's why.

“Don’t say such things, darling. You're my girl, of course I care.” Coriolanus told you while helping you into your nightgown. Pulling it down round you, he admitted, “I know how it is to be so cold that the chattering of teeth and shivering of your body's so bad it takes your mind off of your stomach eating itself because you're starving.” Grabbing your hands and pulling your arms down, he reveals, “I don't want you to ever feel like that. Not when I have the power to keep you safe and warm with a full belly.”

“You’ve been freezing and starving?” You asked in awe as Coryo helped you lay down, so that you could let the morphling take over and get some sleep.

“The war hit my family particularly hard, but don't worry about it. Everything's fine now.” He assured you, mostly because he wanted you to believe that he's able to take care of you. That as the man of the family he's able to be a protector.

If you really knew how bad of shape things were with his family, well…would you trust him to care for you? He doesn't think so. Coriolanus needs you to trust in his ability to care for you, to protect you, to be powerful enough to ensure that nothing bad ever happens to you again. In order to do that, he has to keep certain things from you.

Like his family's money problems.

But he's sending money back home to Tigris and Grandma'am, so at least he's helping them. But things won't be better until he's back in the Capitol.

Kissing your temple and gently petting your hair, he told you, “Get some sleep, baby. You'll feel better if you do.”

A nasty side effect of morphling is nausea. Unfortunately for you, that side effect hit full force when you were asleep. You don't know how long you're asleep for, just that you're suddenly bolting awake, stomach churning, and vile rising up your throat. You scrambled out of bed, nearly falling due to sudden dizziness (another side effect of the morphling- since you took a dose for a large grown man…) and dashed to the bathroom.

Coryo was sitting at the kitchen table, a tiny thing with 2 wobbly chairs, slicing and eating an apple whenever he saw you rushing to the bathroom. Worried, he followed you.

Stepping into the bathroom, Coriolanus sighed as he found you hunched over the toilet, coughing and dry heaving. Kneeling down next to you, he said, “Be careful l, we don't want you popping your stitches.”, while rubbing your sore back- in what he assumed was a soothing manner.

“Don't touch me.” You ordered, pushing yourself away from the toilet to rest against the avocado green tub.

“Don't be like that, darling.” Coryo chastised you, as if you're being a bratty little girl. “I'm just trying to help.” He said, sitting down next to you.

He's just trying to help. Hmmm… Think he helped enough, considering he's the reason you're in this mess.

You just shot him an irritated and tired look. “Coryo, I don't feel good. I just want to be left alone.”

“I know you don't feel good, which is why I'm taking care of you.” The peacekeeper, who was now your personal pest, told you while wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pulling you into his side. “But, if you didn't steal you wouldn't be feeling poorly, Y/N.”

Condescending bastard. “It's your fault, Coryo. You turned me in.” You pointed out as he gently rubbed your shoulder, attempting to make you feel better.

Right now the only thing to make you feel better would be him going away, but you know that's not going to happen. You're stuck with his ass.

“Don't blame me for your actions and consequences, my darling.” Don't blame him? Who else should you blame, you didn't turn yourself in. “You know stealing is wrong and that if caught you'll be whipped, but you still chose to steal- what happened to you was your own doing, not mine.” He lectured you in a self-righteous, pompous tone. Coriolanus tipped your chin up, only to defend his actions with, “I didn't want to turn you in. You're my pretty girl, but there's rules to go by. Now, we have to follow the rules to keep order.”

Little did you know that Coriolanus only followed the rules when it suited it. That he's a peacekeeper in 8 because he cheated in the 10th Hunger Games to ensure that his tribute survived and won. That he wanted to both win the Plinth Prize money and the girl, Lucy Gray Baird. And if you knew that he only turned you in for being a thief to his superiors because he thinks it'll help him get back to the Capitol- well…

Standing up and offering his hand, Coryo said, “Come on, let's get you some tea. That'll help you calm down.”

You nodded, putting your hand in his and letting him help you to your feet. Despite not liking him for turning you in, you had to admit that not being by yourself was nice. Swallowing your pride, you honestly told Coryo, “Thank you for being here, so that I'm not by myself while hurt.”

“You're welcome, baby.” Coriolanus smiled, feeling elated that you’re grateful for his help. That you need him. Leading you back into the main room of the apartment, he promised you, “You'll never be alone again. I'm going to be with you, always.”

Yea…you figured as much. Might as well get used to it.

The last few days haven't been that bad. Coryo wakes up, makes you tea and some toast before taking off to get you some medicine from his friend. Then when he returns, he gives you some of the medicine (after retching and feeling dizzy the first day you took the morphling he quickly realized that his friend’s dosage was too much for you and began to give you smaller amounts.) He also checks on your back to make sure that it's healing properly and that the stitches aren't torn. He cleans it too, to make sure that infection doesn't happen. Then, he'll read to you, since you don't have a tv, and make the two of you meals.

You and Coryo talk, share tiny details about each other since there isn't much else to do. He also managed to get the old radio on your windowsill to pick up a signal, but that's because he placed it on top of the fridge and extended the antenna with some tin foil (you have no idea where he got the foil, but you think it might've been from the base). So, in between reading and talking you're able to listen to music.

He promised to look into getting you two a tv, but you're not getting your hopes up on it. In fact, you're not placing too much faith in the delusional peacekeeper that's demanded to be in your life. Yes, his presence is very domestic in an odd way, but, sad to say, you're secretly waiting for the other shoe to drop. You doubt that Coryo can keep up the caring peacekeeper boyfriend routine; that one day he's going to snap. Toss you aside like trash since you're District and he's Capitol.

But today's not that day.

No, in fact today he doesn't come back by himself, but brings his friend- the one that's supplying him with the morphling for you- with him.

You're sitting at the small dining table, eating some apple wedges, whenever Coryo walks in followed by a big-boned man with a dark buzzcut and a baby face. The two men look like polar opposites.

“Y/N, this is my friend, Sejanus.” Coryo told you while bringing his friend over to you.

“Hi.” You simply tell the dark-haired peacekeeper.

“It's nice to finally meet my best friend's girl. Coryo's been real worried about you, cleaned out my stash of morphling for you.” Sejanus told you, a warm smile on his face, as he placed a pack labeled medic on the table.

“Sejanus wanted to check up on you.” Coryo explained while taking his seat next to you at the table. “He doesn't believe me when I say you're doing better.” Coryo scoffed, rolling his crystal blue eyes.

“She's been taking a lot of morphling, of course I'm concerned.” Sejanus told your platinum blonde peacekeeper, as if you weren't even in the room. He actually looked a bit concerned about you.

You couldn't help, but wonder if Coryo told him about how you two got together. How he's the one that turned you in for stealing. You doubt it. Sejanus seemed like such a sweet, kind, good soul; you doubt he'd be willing to help you and Coryo if he knew the truth about you two. How Coryo's as cold as his name- snow. How the tall blonde's a dark, delusional, twisted creature that got you punished only to possess you in the form of your caretaker man afterwards.

“So, you're a medic.” You stated, watching Sejanus unzip his medic pack.

Before he could say a word, Coryo told you, “He's training with the Matron to be a medic.”

“Oh.” You nodded, watching Sejanus pull things out of his bag.

“So, I'm going to need to see your back to access the wounds.” Sejanus told you after getting everything he needed laid out.

“You're not looking at my girl naked, Sejanus.” Coryo snapped at his fellow peacekeeper.

“I'm not going to look at her like that, brother. Just her back.”

“I'm not letting her strip in front of you. Just leave me what I need to give her and I'll do it myself.”

“Coryo, do you hear yourself right now? You're being irrational. I just want to help-” Sejanus began to tell Coryo, only for him to cut him off with a loud possessive, “I'm not letting you see my girl in a way that's only for me to see her. She's mine, so just leave the shit and go.”

“Coryo, I don't think he means anything forward, but wants to help with his medical knowledge.” You told the platinum blonde, vouching for his friend, since you didn't think that teddy bear of a man posed any threat. Not like the fallen angel currently sitting next to you.

Coriolanus took a hold of your hand while telling you, “I failed you the first time when half the district saw you whipped naked in the snow, I'm not going to let anyone else see you like that.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Whose fault is it that I went thru that, Coryo? Huh?”

“We've talked about this, baby. I'm sorry it happened, but there was nothing I could do to stop it.” The blonde hissed, sounding like a cornered snake.

Sejanus’ soft brown eyes darted between you and Coriolanus, watching as your tempers flared. Honestly, it made him feel a bit out of place. He wasn't comfortable watching a couple have a fight.

“Um, I'm just gonna go. I'll let Trey know that you’ll trade your day with him tomorrow.” Sejanus said, quickly zipping up his medic pack. The sooner he left the apartment the better. Especially since seeing you and Coryo stop snapping at each other, only for Coryo to pull you into a desperate kiss took him off guard and made him uncomfortable.

Coryo and you were too busy kissing each other like your lives depended on it, as if you're the air the other needs to live, to notice Sejanus leaving the apartment.

Sejanus honestly thought that Coryo and you had an odd relationship. Maybe it's cause his friend’s a Capitol boy? Who knows. But Sejanus does know that Coriolanus’ possessiveness towards you made him feel uneasy. That paired with fighting turned passionate, while you're healing from an injury, just made Sejanus shake his head. He has other things to do than worry about you and his best friend.

Sejanus needed to get back to base before the Matron realized that he was gone; give him demerits or worse, kick him out of the medic training program.

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queenshelby · 11 months ago

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Our Little Secret (Part 22)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Infidelity

Monday came around quickly and, at around 6 o'clock, just after you had gotten home from university, Cillian arrived at your doorstep, ready to tackle the cot assembly head-on.

After greeting him with a warm hug, you led him upstairs to Baby Mara's nursery, your heart pounding with anxiety. You wanted to create the perfect space for your little girl, but you were afraid that your efforts would fall short.

"Have you done anything with this yet?" Cillian queried, glancing around the room. He appeared hesitant, his gaze darting nervously towards the mountain of the opened up flat-packed boxes piled high on the floor.

"I haven't touched any of these. I promise," you chuckled, your cheeks reddening slightly as you handed him the instruction manual.

"Fuck, these things are confusing, aren't they?" Cillian muttered under his breath, his brow furrowing in concentration as he scrutinized the instruction manual and placed some of the boards on to the floor as indicated.

"What? Are you saying that you can't figure out a simple set of instructions?" you teased, a spark of amusement dancing in your eyes while you watched Cillian trying hard to assemble the bottom part of the cot.

"Hey, I'm trying here," Cillian protested, his eyes flashing defensively. "This stuff is more complicated than it seems," he argued, squinting at the diagrams intently.

"How many fucking panels are there supposed to be anyway?" he cursed, his frustration escalating.

"I don't know, but let's start building," you proposed eagerly, eager to bring your vision to life. "Are you sure you can handle this?" you joked, your laughter filling the room.

"Of course, I've got this," Cillian asserted confidently, his gaze sweeping over the myriad of components scattered across the floor. "I've assembled far more complex things before," he boasted, his voice thick with bravado.

"Now where is that silver L-shaped thing?" Cillian groaned, running his hands through his hair impatiently. "I swear, this is like finding a needle in a haystack!" he grumbled, tossing aside a handful of bolts and screws in frustration.

Your eyes widened as you watched him throw pieces haphazardly onto the floor, a nervous laugh escaping your lips.

"You mean the Allen key?" you questioned, arching an eyebrow at Cillian in feigned confusion.

"Yeah, the screwdriver thing they include in those packs, Cillian clarified, scanning the pile of parts on the floor in search of the elusive tool.

"It's called an Allen key" you laughed, watching him scramble through the mess before, finally, finding what he was looking for.

"Right," Cillian echoed, attempting to regain composure. He turned his attention back to the instructions, scrutinizing the diagram carefully. "I believe we need to attach Panel B to Panel G," he suggested, pointing at the paper.

"Or maybe it's the other way around?" he murmured, squinting at the illustration doubtfully.

"Oh, dear," you stifled a giggle, noticing the perplexed expression on Cillian's face. "This is harder than it looks, right?" you teased, nudging him playfully.

"You're absolutely right," Cillian grunted, struggling to fit the panels together. "These damn pieces just don't seem to want to cooperate," he grumbled, his frustration mounting.

The atmosphere in the room crackled with palpable tension, and you found yourself biting your lip to suppress a laugh.

"Here, let me help," you offered, moving closer to Cillian. Your skin brushed against his, igniting a spark of desire that both of you desperately tried to ignore.

"You should probably rest Y/N," Cillian breathed, his gaze locked on your perfectly round baby belly.

"I am fine. I am pregnant, not sick," you chuckled, guiding Cillian's hands to the correct panel.

"Alright, but just take it easy. I will do the lifting, okay?" he replied, focusing intently on the task at hand.

"Sure," you acquiesced, offering a lopsided grin. You leaned back against the wall, observing Cillian's focused expression as he meticulously fitted the parts together. The scent of sawdust and wood varnish wafted through the air, mingling with the lingering remnants of your floral perfume.

Suddenly, Cillian halted mid-assembly, his gaze fixated on a loose bolt that stubbornly resisted his attempts to secure it.

"You know what?" he said aloud, his knuckles whitening as he squeezed the errant bolt tighter. "This cot," he muttered under his breath, "is a complete pain in the ass."

You suppressed a giggle, your eyes sparkling with amusement as you inspected the incomplete structure before you. Despite the seemingly endless complications, something about the chaotic mess of wooden planks and metal bolts stirred feelings within you that you couldn't quite comprehend. A feeling of warmth spread through your chest at the sight of Cillian's frustration, and you couldn't help but feel drawn to the connection that formed between the two of you as you tackled the assembly together.

You soon gathered him a glass of wine while getting a soda for yourself, hoping that it would help him relax, and he gladly accepted it, sipping it as he sat down to continue working on the cot.

You admired his determination, even as the clock ticked onward, and as he labored tirelessly on the project, you began to sense the strain on his face.

"Would you like to take a break and have something to eat?" you asked him, hoping to alleviate some of the pressure he was under. "I will heat up some pasta,” you added, a hint of excitement creeping into your voice.

"That sounds lovely," Cillian replied, placing the partially completed frame of the bed on the ground and setting his tools aside. "I'm starving," he admitted, stretching his aching muscles.

"Come on, let's go downstairs," you urged, leading him down the staircase just as a lightening bolt struck outside, startling you and causing you to almost trip down the stairs.

"Shit, careful Y/N" Cillian said, instinctively wrapping his arms around you protectively. His embrace felt strong and safe, like a protective shield enveloping you.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice laced with concern as he examined your face closely.

"Yes, I am fine," you reassured him, your pulse racing at the speed of a thousand horses. "It just surprised me. That's all," you lied, smiling faintly.

"You are still scared of thunder and lightning, aren't you?" Cillian asked, knowing that this was one of the few phobias you had after having spent some time in a hurricane affected area in the US.

"A little, maybe," you admitted, smiling sheepishly. "It's silly, really," you added, peeking up at him through your lashes just as you heard another loud rumbling.

"Fuck," you whispered, your voice trembling slightly.

"Can we just sit here for a moment?" you pleaded, clutching his arm tightly.

"Of course," Cillian assured you, his voice thick with concern. With gentle care, he guided you to the couch, ensuring that you were comfortable. "Do you want some water?" he offered, checking in on you.

"Maybe later," you murmured, your gaze fixed on the storm raging outside. Thunderclaps rattled the windows, causing you to shudder involuntarily.

Cillian noticed your fear and hesitated to release you from his embrace, knowing that it was futile to argue with you right now, and just as there was some more lightening, the Livingroom turned black.

"What happened?" you gasped, gripping Cillian's shirt tightly.

"I would say that the power is gone" Cillian explained before looking out of the window and realizing that the surrounding houses had no power either.

"Oh, fucking perfect," you muttered, your voice laced with annoyance as the storm continued to rage outside.

"It's alright Y/N," Cillian said reassuringly while reaching for his phone and turning on the flashlight. "Do you have some candles and matches? Or a torch perhaps?" he asked, his voice softening as he attempted to ease your panic. He moved toward the fireplace, illuminating the dark space with his cell phone as he searched for any signs of a lighter.

"Top right, next to the wood stand," you instructed, your voice barely audible as you stared out into the stormy night.

"Got it," Cillian confirmed, locating the box containing matches, striking one to life before lighting several candles.

As the room gradually filled with warm, flickering light, you sighed deeply, your heartbeat gradually slowing down.

"You know, every time there's a storm, I expect someone to show up out of nowhere and save me," you mused, smiling wistfully.

"Save you from what?" Cillian asked, raising an eyebrow as he joined you on the couch.

The scent of burning wax filled the air, and the shadows danced around the candlelit room, creating an intimate atmosphere.

"From the storm," you clarified, glancing out the window as the storm raged on. Lightning flashes illuminated the room intermittently, casting stark shadows on the walls. The wind howled, causing the trees outside to sway wildly.

"Well, I don't think that you actually need saving but, if there is a storm again, call me and I will come over, alright?" Cillian said, his words reflecting the genuine affection he held for you.

"Alright, deal," you agreed, resting your head on his shoulder as he wrapped his arm around you. The room filled with a comforting silence, except for the occasional crackle of the dying fire.

As the storm raged on outside, you and Cillian settled deeper into your embrace, savoring the peaceful moments shared in the dim candlelight.

"Should I make us some sandwiches?" Cillian spoke up, breaking the silence. "It's better than cold pasta, I guess?" Cillian chuckled while waiting for your answer.

"Yes, please," you nodded, your stomach protesting at the mere mention of food. The thought of a hot sandwich sounded heavenly right now, and you couldn't wait to dig in.

"I'll just grab some plates," Cillian smiled, rising from the couch to retrieve two plates from the kitchen cabinet. He returned shortly thereafter, handing you a plate stacked high with freshly prepared sandwiches.

"Thanks," you murmured gratefully, biting into the cheese and crispy bread while Cillian checked his phone, seeing how long this storm was going to last and when power was meant to be restored.

"The power is not meant to come back on until the morning, apparently," Cillian announced, his brows furrowed with concern.

"What?" you gasped, staring wide-eyed at the darkened living room.

"Relax, Y/N," Cillian soothed, squeezing your hand reassuringly. "Everything is going to be fine," he murmured, his gaze never leaving yours.

You nibbled distractedly on your sandwich, your thoughts spiralling into worry. You hated being trapped in the dark, especially during a storm. However, Cillian's comforting presence calmed your nerves somewhat, allowing you to breathe easier.

"Do you, uhm," you began to say, pausing to gather your thoughts. "Think you could stay here tonight?" you ventured cautiously, your voice wavering slightly.

"I know it's a lot to ask, considering our circumstances, but I honestly feel safer with you here," you confessed, your gaze darting nervously between Cillian and the storm outside.

Cillian paused, his mouth full of sandwich, and swallowed deliberately before responding. "Amanda is meant to be coming over to my house at nine, but yeah, I mean, sure," Cillian stammered, a slight flush spreading across his cheeks.

He looked down at your hand, still nestled in his, before meeting your gaze again. "I will stay here," he confirmed, his voice softer than before. "But we probably shouldn't stay in the same bed, so I will have the couch, okay?" Cillian said, his voice tinged with uncertainty. He rose from the couch, carrying his plate to the table before returning to you with a determined look in his eyes.

"Thank you," you responded, a flicker of relief washing over you. The idea of spending the night alone in the dark, amidst the chaos of the storm, seemed unbearable. Having Cillian there, even if he slept on the couch, provided a sense of comfort and safety that you sorely needed.

As you finished your dinner, the storm intensified, the wind howling relentlessly, battering the windows. Your fears swirled, like the tumultuous clouds outside, threatening to engulf you but Cillian did his best to keep your mind preoccupied and suggested playing a game of cards.

He retrieved a deck from somewhere in the house and the two of you huddled on the couch, using the scant light from the candles to guide your hands. The soft whispers of shuffling cards echoed in the otherwise silent room, punctuated by fits of giggles between hands.

You played several games until around ten o'clock that night, by which point Cillian had ignored more than five calls from Amanda after cancelling their date and, just as the storm calmed down a bit, you decided to call it a night.

After getting changed into your PJs and saying goodnight to Cillian who, by that point, had gotten himself comfortable on the lounge, you crawled into bed, feeling exhausted and afraid.

You were laying there awake, listening to the rhythmic patter of rain hitting the garden below. Each clap of thunder caused your body to tense, and the sporadic flashes of lightning served as reminders of the danger lurking beyond the windows.

It was as though nature itself conspired with your inner turmoil, amplifying the torrent of emotions coursing through your veins and, just as another bolt of lightening struck nearby, you jumped out of bed.

The sudden jolt of adrenaline propelled you to seek solace in Cillian's company, and you hurriedly grabbed your robe before fleeing the confines of your bedroom. Your bare feet padded softly against the cold hardwood floors, and the scent of damp earth filled the air.

You knew that it was a reckless decision, and the consequences could prove disastrous if Amanda found out, but it was almost like you couldn't help yourself.

"Cillian," you called out softly, your voice echoing eerily in the dimly lit living room. "I really can't get to sleep," you confessed, your voice trembling slightly. "Could you just lie down with me for a little while?" you requested, swallowing nervously.

Silence enveloped the room, and you feared that Cillian might refuse your request, or worse, question your motives. Your heart pounded in your chest, and beads of sweat trickled down your temples. You waited for what seemed like an eternity, your breathing shallow and rapid.

"I suppose why not," Cillian finally replied, his voice muffled by the distance between you. "I mean, it's not that we haven't shared a bed before," he added, his tone shifting uncomfortably. "So, I guess it wouldn't hurt to just keep you company for a while," he agreed cautiously, his reluctance noticeable.

You heaved a sigh of relief, your body relaxing visibly as you allowed yourself to lean against the couch. "Thank you," you whispered, your gaze locking onto Cillian's tired eyes.

With trepidation, you followed him back to your bedroom, navigating the darkness cautiously.

Once inside, Cillian closed the door behind you, shutting out the storm's chaos, before climbing into bed, wearing only a t-shirt and a pair of black Calvin Klein briefs.

You followed suit, slipping your robe off, leaving you in a singlet and shorts, and crawling beneath the covers, careful not to touch Cillian too closely for fear of provoking unwanted desires.

For a few minutes, nothing was spoken between you, the only sound being the distant thunder and the rhythmic patter of rain against the window pane.

"I am sorry. I feel like an idiot," you then eventually said, breaking the silence between you.

"Don't be silly," Cillian whispered soothingly while turning towards you. "Everyone has fears, even big boys like me," he joked, a ghost of a smile tracing across his lips.

"Big boys like you huh?" you giggled before asking what his fears were, the answer to which surprised you.

"Being alone," Cillian admitted, his voice barely audible. "When I was younger, I had this uncle who really never settled down with anyone. He was on his own when he passed away of old age and I figured that, never being able to experience love in such a deep and meaningful way must suck," Cillian confessed, a trace of sadness clouding his features.

"And I don't want to end up like that, Y/N," he revealed, his voice heavy with emotion. "I don't like being alone," he admitted.

"Do you think Amanda is the one for you? The one to grow old with?" you questioned, your voice softening. "Do you think she is the one for you?" you repeated, a hint of curiosity dancing in your eyes.

Cillian hesitated and ran his fingers through his short hair, a troubled expression clouding his features. "To be honest, I don't," he confessed, his voice cracking slightly. "I mean, I like her, but I am also not completely satisfied with our relationship," he admitted, his gaze flitting apprehensively between you and the window.

"Well, only you can figure out what you want but, if it is not her, then why waste your time?" you asked before, suddenly, gasping for air as Baby Mara gave you a kick.

"What's wrong?" Cillian asked, sitting upright abruptly.

"Oh, nothing," you waved dismissively, trying to hide the fact that your baby girl had kicked you. It was amazing, yet terrifying, to witness the physical manifestation of your child growing inside your womb.

"It's just that I think our daughter might become a kickboxing champion," you chuckled, rubbing your swollen belly tenderly beneath the blanket.

"Is she still moving around?" Cillian asked, his gaze drifting towards your covered abdomen as he laid back down beside you. Your laughter bubbled forth, and you felt the familiar sensation of a small foot kicking against your palm.

"Yeah," you marveled, gently stroking your protruding belly. "And it feels really weird" you added, smiling appreciatively. "Would you like to feel her kick?" you asked Cillian, extending your hand underneath the blanket, inviting him to join you in the intimate experience.

His eyes widened slightly, and he hesitated for a moment before reaching for your hand. His fingers intertwined with yours, and he placed his palm beneath your singlet, right against your tummy, pressing lightly.

"Can you feel her?" you asked tentatively as his fingers grazed your belly lightly, a puzzled expression clouding his features in the dark.

"No, I don't think -" he started to reply, his brow furrowing in concentration. "Wait," he suddenly interjected. "Yes, she definitely just kicked," he affirmed, his voice brimming with wonder.

His fingertips lingered on your stomach, tracing gentle patterns as he adjusted to the unexpected sensation and, soon, you rolled on to your side, facing away from him and thereby giving his hand better access to your round baby belly.

"She will kick me all night, you watch," you laughed softly, squirming against the soft cotton sheets. The smell of damp earth still clung to the air, a tangible reminder of the tempest raging outside.

"She is going to be a force of nature, I just know it," Cillian hummed, his fingers brushing against your sensitive skin, sending ripples of pleasure coursing through your veins.

"Probably, but, right now, I think she is simply excited," you speculated, the corners of your mouth curling upwards in a soft smile. "I think she enjoys your touch," you noted, observing Cillian's reaction carefully while he traced gentle circles on your tummy, his fingers dancing along your skin.

"It's surreal, isn't it?" Cillian commented, his voice hushed. "Feeling a tiny human moving around inside you," he added, his finger continuing to caress your abdomen. "I can't believe we actually made this miracle," he murmured, shaking his head.

"Well, neither can I," you laughed softly, snuggling back, closer against his chest and, much to your surprise, Cillian's hand remained firmly on your stomach, the pads of his fingers pressing lightly against your skin while he traced slow, deliberate circles.

His attention was solely focused on the movements beneath your skin and, occasionally, he would pause to examine your reactions, seeking confirmation that the sensations he experienced were indeed real while you lay there, nestled against him, feeling his warmth seeping into your body while the storm raged on outside.

"Cillian," you murmured softly after a while, your voice barely audible. "I think I am falling asleep," you confessed, your eyelids fluttering as you fought to remain awake.

"It's okay," Cillian whispered reassuringly, his grip tightening on your hand. "Just rest. You both need it,” he affirmed, his voice soft and tender. " I will be right here," he promised, his breath warming your neck as he inhaled the floral scent of your hair, reminding him of the many nights you had shared in the past.

"Goodnight, Y/N," he whispered, his voice soft and tender.

"Goodnight, Cillian," you murmured, your eyelids fluttering shut as sleep claimed you but, unfortunately for you, you were woken up at around 3 o'clock in the morning by a sharp pain in your stomach.

You groaned, rolling onto your side and clutching your abdomen as the discomfort radiated outward.

"Cillian," you cried out softly, your voice trembling slightly. "Something is wrong," you whimpered, your breathing becoming increasingly laboured.

"My stomach," you groaned, clutching your abdomen tightly as the pain subsided. "I feel like I am having a contraction," you whimpered, the realization sinking in.

Cillian shot up immediately, throwing the blankets aside and rushing to the other side of the bed.

"It's a contraction," you confirmed, your voice quivering with fear. "But it is too early for that," you whispered, tears welling up in your eyes.

"Y/N, we need to get you to the hospital," Cillian declared, his voice firm despite the obvious concern etched across his face.

"Where are your car keys?" Cillian asked, his voice strained under the weight of the situation while he helped you stand up and guided you down the stairs.

To be continued...

Tags:

@sunbeamseas @saint-ackerman @oatmealisweird @naxxsstuff @amanda08319 @r-m-cidnah @elysiannook @cillshot @infireddabdab @tastycakee @harrysbestiee @lilybabe22 @adalynlowell @henrywintersdearestgirl @ietss @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @ryiamarie @axionn

@heidimoreton @nela-cutie @futurecorps3 @delishen @nosebleeds-247 @thirteenis-myluckynumber @gills-lounge @hjmalmed @lost-fantasy @tiredkitten @sidechrisporn @smallsoulunknown @charqing-qing @hopefulinlove @aporiasposts @shycrybaby @me-and-your-husband @hjmalmed @lacontroller1991 @galxydefender @aporiasposts

@galxydefender @hunnibearrr @saint-ackerman @lunyyx @gentlemonsterjennie1 @ihavealotoffandomssorry @nadloves @lost-fantasy @nolucesn@mcavoy-girl @hjmalmed @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @blushykiss @tatumrileyslover @teawithsatanx @orijanko @rhaenyra4ever @xcinnamonmalfoyx @budugu @nadloves @kmc1989 @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @forgottenpeakywriter @smailaway @sophiaaguirred

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy fanfic #cillian fanfic #cillian x reader #cillian x fem!reader #cillian x y/n #cillian murphy fanfiction

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airandyeah · 4 months ago

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By The Beach Merman Nanami X Reader pt.1

Hello! I plan on making this a multi-part fic, the first few chapters being SFW and possibly getting a lil NSFW. It will be similar to The Little Mermaid in some ways but.... i dunno. Warnings: description of injuries, mentions of cyber bullying, bad thoughts, cursing

Being a social media influencer took a lot out of a person. Being THE Y/N Y/L/N, took even more. Keeping up with trends, dipping into new things... It was a lot. But for what? A million likes from strangers but just 2 friends? Or what about the hate comments? The bastards hate you with such a passion, what's even the point? The comments of 'I wish you would just die' or even the ones calling you out for being 'cringe', it's stupid. Having enough of peoples horrible words, you took some time off. A full week off from social media. You owned a nice beach house, but you are always busy on socials you never even take the time to just walk along the shore. So now, at 2AM, here you are, walking the shore line, softly singing the words to some song... If you recalled it was called Welcome To The Black Parade... by My Chemical Romance maybe? As you walk you think back to those comments... Did people really just hate you? Would you be better off just dead? What if you just slipped into the water and never came back out.... You shake your head to clear the thoughts and look ahead.... You see something near the water. A strange shape. Maybe a person? Shit it could be a person who needs help! As you run closer to the person, you stop dead in your tracks a few feet away... No.... That's not right.... He....He..... "YOUHAVEAFISHTAIL" you yell, words thrown together in panic as the thing... no, man, groans, his eyes flicking open. You were already shocked at the look of this bulky man with blond hair and a strange but beautifully fire orange colored fish tail, but his piercing Hazel eyes left you speechless and entranced. Suddenly his tail, which you now noticed had a spiked fishing net wrapped around it, flopped violently. You snapped back to reality and realized he was bleeding too, he was probably attacked by frightened fishermen you'd guessed. "H-hey, calm down" you try to tell him, but he can't understand... He's a different species, duh. "W-wait here and i'll come back to help!", you say as you bolt back to the house and find a bottle of alcohol and a few old shirts, running back after. You didn't keep a First Aid kit, but your time as an influencer had you watching videos of hot paramedics, you would try to help him. You ran back to him and made a hand motion close to 'settle down' and after a few times he stopped his violent movements. You started inspecting the spiked net, he was more tangled than pierced, but his thrashing made it worse. You slowly peeled the net out of his scales, they were wet and smooth, as he lets out a loud groan of pain. Once the net is off of him you pour some alcohol onto one of the old shirts, you push down with one arm to try to keep him still as you press the cloth down to his wounds. He yells out in pain as you repeat under your breath through stressed tears 'i'm sorry, i'm sorry, i'm sorry', you sounded akin to a broken record. Once his wounds were cleaned you backed off and let him move about, sitting just a few feet away. He looked at you, he was still pained, but could finally move freely. He nodded at you, his hazel eyes held you captive for a few moments longer, before he moved and dove into the waters of the beach. He's gone. ~~~ Thoughts?

#jjk #jjk nanami #nanami kento #x reader #writing #fanfic #jujutsu kaisen #mermaid #merman

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drinkyourvillainjuice · 6 months ago

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Powers post!

I wrote something up on COG yesterday which explains the entire cast's powers in a little more detail, and I thought it'd be nice to crosspost here.

Here you are!

Altruists

Dion - Can create energy projections which emerge from terrain, e.g. walls, floors, ceilings. These can also extend from each other to a more limited extent. They specifically seem to manifest as geometric shapes, as in, rather than just a vertical energy barrier, it would be a cube-shaped projection

Mal - Exceptional durability/resistance towards physical harm (cuts, blunt trauma, etc.) Capable of altering their own appearance, including height/bulk, but not precisely enough to accurately mimic others (could maybe hold up to a cursory inspection, but nothing more)

Kay - As well as having sheeplike physiology, she is able to absorb impact (and energy to some extent?) and ‘charge’ herself with it, resulting in an electrical aura. More charge = harder hits and greater speed.

Teddie - Constant bone growths that push through his skin. Luckily for him, his body works with these to not be, y’know, constantly bleeding everywhere. Unluckily for him, he still feels the growth. And he can only get rid of them by breaking them off. He’s able to influence/stimulate growth to an extent, allowing him to construct exoskeletal armour for missions (hence his more elaborate setup on the two jobs so far)

Wil - Able to drain energy from others via touching them, temporarily boosting their own strength and speed. Apparently works on constructs like Portrait’s too, neat!

Hounds

Surpass - Super strength, durability, and speed. Doesn’t work quite as straightforwardly as advertised, but we’ll get into that in time. ; )

Vantage - Creates precognitive simulations which enable her to predict roughly how likely a given course of events is to happen. The more information she has on the topic, the better her prediction. Has limitations: introducing outside factors to a simulation will likely render the previous simulation useless, and she’ll have to do it again, and she doesn’t have infinite concentration/mental energy to constantly run every possible permutation of events at all times. 97.65% was a bluff.

Arcade - Shoots lasers!! - fires colourful lasers from his hands, growing in intensity the longer he charges them up. Easily capable of causing burns/starting fires.

Enfilade - Augment. Cybernetically enhanced in various ways, boosting physical capabilities. Most prominently, her arms are almost entirely artificial, and one forearm houses a powerful bolt launcher.

Portrait - ‘Paints’ constructs from inorganic material, with the creations taking on some characteristics from the material (i.e. a concrete construct would be hard-skinned). The constructs have limited autonomy and are heavily reliant Portrait’s orders, which as you can imagine is a significant weakness. Struggles to maintain more than three at a time, though there’s no diffusion of overall power (they don’t get weaker as he makes more) Unclear whether the animal theme is a preference or a requirement.

Phalanx - Telekinetic manipulation of metal (so nope, she’s not Magneto). Metal she’s manipulating exerts force roughly proportional to the weight/size, meaning she’s liable to dragging herself around. Though that essentially renders her capable of flight, score!

Coven

Hypothesis - Still a secret!

Catalyst - Physical attacks are repeated threefold. He punches you once, you feel it thrice. One two three.

CG - Superhumanly perfect balance. As in “can run on walls and stand on pretty much anything capable of bearing her weight” perfect.

Variable - Can teleport themself a short distance, leaving behind a weird membrane like they just shed a shell.

Gremlink - Augment. Cybernetically enhanced with a particular view towards integrating tech with her senses. Absolutely none of this was done through legal channels. Tinkers her own cyberware because, to be frank, she’s possessed of a reckless disregard for her own safety.

Lullaby - They sing, you snooze.

WPP

Ranger - Can produce a temporary chameleon-like effect, allowing him to blend in with his surroundings. Maybe chameleon isn’t quite the right word as it’s maybe a bit more like stealth camo from Metal Gear? Anyway, he goes gloes to invisible, albeit still possible to make out a silhouette, with effort.

Hit - Greatly enhanced accuracy, especially with projectiles. Technically works in close combat but uhhh he’s kind of shit in a fistfight.

Mis - Greatly enhanced reflexes. Operates on kind of a scale depending on how close and direct something threatening physical harm is. Hence, in a straight up brawl it’s nigh-impossible to land a clean strike. Nowhere near as effective with grappling or indirect attacks, and, well, she doesn’t have eyes in the back of her head and she’s no stronger than any other young adult in decent shape.

#drink your villain juice #dyvj powers

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slutforsilverfoxes · 1 year ago

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What Happens In New York... The Remix

In which Aaron & Sean’s bff meeting for the first time gets ✨reimagined✨ (essentially an AU with a different meet cute)

“Yo, Hotch!” The blonde popped his head around the corner to peek into the break room where you were perched on a stool and hunched over the table, tongue peeking out between your lips while you concentrated on the project laid out before you. “Come take a look at this.” You flipped your design around with a flourish and a quiet, “Ta da!,” revealing the name of the bar where you worked, The Edinburgh, in sprawling cursive writing with a shamrock dotting the “i”.

“Kid.” Sean clicked his teeth with a shake of his head before declaring, “Your talents are wasted here. This looks amazing!”

“We’re not that old,” you laughed. “Art school is still in the cards for me, don’t you worry your pretty head.”

“She thinks I’m pretty,” he cooed to no one in particular, then chucked your chin affectionately while you fought to grab a hold of his wrist before biting down on his hand.

“And you taste good, too,” you hummed. “Spill some Jameson on yourself?”

“Shut up and go man the bar, Y/L/N.” You shied away from Sean’s pinching fingers, then slung a towel over your shoulder and followed the din of patrons in the bar to your section. It was a relatively slow Wednesday night for a New York summer, but you weren’t bothered by the unhurried pace. In between serving craft beers and specialty mixed drinks, you busied yourself polishing the wood paneling along the cabinetry and ensuring all bottle labels were facing outward for ease of customer selection. With that task completed, you resigned yourself to peeling a lemon into artful shapes while you waited for another patron to approach your end of the bar.

“Penny for your thoughts?” A honeyed voice carried confidently over the steady drone of bar chats, and you looked up with a smile. Everything about the man before you screamed professional, from the dark locks swept off his forehead to his sharp suit and tie to the placement of his clasped hands on the bar with a thick silver watch adorning his left wrist. There was a certain stoicism about him that was undeniably intriguing, and you could sense a sadness behind the warmth in his chocolate brown eyes. A shot of adrenaline coursed through you as you held his gaze, and you wanted nothing more than for him to open up to you.

“He loves me not,” you joked, tossing the lemon rind that you were forming into a rose aside. Leaning on your elbows on the bar top, you tilted your head back and forth while studying him. “Scotch on the rocks?”

He breathed out a laugh and conceded, “I wasn’t planning on it, but that actually sounds great.”

“Got it in one,” you sang playfully, back turned while you poured the beverage. You could feel his intense gaze roving over your form, and you suppressed the shiver threatening to run down your spine. You placed a napkin down before him with a flourish, then presented his drink. “Now, how about a penny for your thoughts?”

He clicked his teeth and shook his head in a suspiciously familiar way before asserting, “Nobody wants to take a peek in here,” with a tap to his temple.

“I do,” you answered genuinely. “That’s why I love this job. You can tell me whatever’s on your mind, judgment free.” As you swept a stray ice cube off the bar, you tacked on, “Unless you tell me you’re a serial killer, of course. Then I think I’m obligated to report you, at least in most states.”

He leaned in conspiratorially and you met him halfway. “You’re a little too good at this,” he confided in a whisper.

You let out a mock gasp and questioned in an equally hushed tone, “So you are a serial killer?”

He shook his head with a small smile. “I hunt them.” The simple statement accompanied by the flash of defiance in his eyes sent a bolt of heat through your body that you didn’t care to unpack at this time. Instead, you directed the conversation back to him.

“Detective?”

“Agent.”

That sense of familiarity from earlier hit you like a ton of bricks. “Don’t tell me you’re big brother Hotchner.”

He laughed at the incredulous lilt to your statement and admitted, “Guilty as charged. So you know Sean, then?”

“More intimately than I care to admit on days that end in ‘y’,” you huffed through a smile.

“Girlfriend?”

“Best friend,” you corrected him pointedly, then carried on, “Roommate. Therapist. Personal chef. The list of my many talents goes on.” You offered him your hand to shake and formally introduced yourself, receiving a polite, “Aaron,” in response with a smile that stole the very breath from your lungs. His palm was surprisingly soft in opposition to his firm grip, and you reluctantly retracted your hand after a prolonged moment. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Of course,” he answered seriously after a mouthful of scotch. “Brother-brother’s best friend slash roommate slash therapist slash other miscellaneous job title confidentiality is sacred.” You snorted out a laugh and immediately slapped a hand over your mouth at the ridiculous sound, covering it up with a poorly faked cough. Aaron, for his part, was kind enough to studiously avoid eye contact with you while he smiled down at the bar. “So that secret?” he prodded gently.

“You’re not nearly as boring as Sean makes you out to be.”

Aaron threw his head back in a laugh that warmed you from the inside out, and you committed the ebullient sound to memory, determined to hear it again.

A pinch at your side had you squealing out an indignant, “Hotch!” You noticed Aaron’s eyebrows raising at the nickname before you directed your attention (and a swatting of your towel) to the younger Hotchner brother, then pressed a kiss to his bearded cheek.

“I see you two have met,” Sean noted in a carefully measured tone, his hand resting possessively on your hip.

“We have,” Aaron answered just as evenly, raising his glass to his lips again as the temperature in the bar dropped several degrees.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your presence, Aaron? Got a case in town, or did you just want to remind me I’m still not living up to the Hotchner name?” The genuine nature of your best friend’s question was poorly masked by his usual sarcastic cadence.

The brunette’s visage pulled into a frown for the first time since he entered the bar, and you immediately missed his easygoing smile. “He came to see me, dummy,” you asserted with an elbow to Sean’s side, breaking the tension as the brothers released a collective breath. “And blondie, we’re gonna have to work on your descriptive skills. You did not do your big brother justice.”

“And that,” you declare in the present, swiping an experimental coat of plum-colored nail polish over your daughter’s thumbnail before shaking your head with a frown and grabbing the remover, “is how your badass mom singlehandedly saved the integrity of the Hotchner family. The power of humor!”

“Sounds like the power of flirting,” your mini-me counters with a wicked grin reminiscent of her beloved uncle while you hunt through the basket of mani/pedi essentials for a more suitable shade.

“Nah,” your husband further contests from his spot on the couch, head buried in a case file and reading glasses dangerously close to sliding off the bridge of his nose. “Your mom wasn’t a great flirt. She would just snort-laugh at my jokes until I figured out she liked me.”

“You mean this twerp inherited that from Mom?” Jack lovingly ruffles his little sister’s hair on his way back from the kitchen and she barks at him in response, unable to retaliate physically while you’re working on her hands. “You’re so fucking weird sometimes.”

“Watch your fucking language,” you admonish your seventeen-year-old. “Is this purple better?”

Aaron and your kids look up for precisely one second before answering in unison. “Too light.”

“Y’all are a pain in my ass,” you declare with a grumble, giving up on shuffling through the bottles of lacquer in favor of upturning the entire basket on the living room floor.

Your husband stands with a groan and comes over to press a kiss to your forehead, then your daughter’s, before placing Purple with a Purpose in your awaiting palm. “That’s what you get for singlehandedly saving the integrity of the Hotchner family.”

__________

[A/N: Y'all seemed to really enjoy What Happens In New York, so I thought exploring a different meeting would be fun :) I think we can all agree that CM did the Hotchner brothers dirty so I shall continue to live in my world where they amend their relationship as adults thank u very much]

AH tags 🖤 @gothwifehotchner

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naturallyadventured · 5 months ago

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arabella___rose

What is it to pray? Why pray? Or to wish, to have faith or to trust... Merely just by being & embodying ones truth is a prayer. Creator knows our deepest secrets. Why do I need to pray? Prayer gives voice to the voiceless, Prayer gives voice to the secrets held beneath your bones, embedded deep within your heart prayer gives voice to your blood... to acknowledge the mystery into the altar of spoken word & ignite that spark longing to be heard

I feel like Im on the precipice of great change old limiting beliefs & patterns are decaying as new landscapes & ways of being unfurl into my days.

With this winter solstice I give thanks to my past that has cultivated the woman I am. I give thanks to all those who walked before me, shaped me & birthed me into existence. I give thanks to my mother for raising, nurturing & caring for me I give thanks to my father for his constant support, firm love & encouragement. I give thanks to simplicity, slowing down & the spaciousness for resting upon this sacred country.

I feel l have been struck by love A lightening bolt so immense Im understanding love doesn’t come without pain. Its that intense contraction, friction & hurt that alchemises one to combust to open... to open up to more, to clear the stagnant that was trying to hold on... to open for more life force, more mana to radiate through

It’s been over 6 months since I broke my right forearm bones. In short it was like the world crumbled around me & everything I ever new changed form. I was forced to sit with myself & reflect on my life thus far how all of my choices had lead me to that moment.

What was spirit teaching me? What was karma teaching me? Where was I not in alignment?

Im so grateful to all those who expressed their love & care to me through in that time. There is no greater power than the power of love. Thank you #LOVE for teaching us, for teaching me how to live in comm-unity. To receive, to trust, to feel, to understand we need each other. Its in the dying that one can be born again. I give thanks to the spark of life within singing songs of hope, i give thanks to the courage & strength of will to utilise my voice to paint the artwork of reality.

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to-fly-with-clipped-wings · 1 year ago

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Chapter 1.1 - The Unexpected Visit

Pairing: Harry Potter x Chosen One! Reader

‘“I dunno what it was, no one does – but somethin’ about you stumped him, all right.” Hagrid turned to you, a mixture of warmth and respect blazing in his kind eyes. You straightened your back, preening under his gaze. So, what he was saying, basically was that you were the hero of the wizarding world. It had been you. The antidote to the disease. The champion. You were the saviour.’ OR: in which unexpected encounters open your eyes to a whole new world. One, it seems, you know nothing about, but knows everything about you. → Set in a universe where you are the chosen one, and Harry Potter is your best friend who tries to help you navigate the woes of being the lone hero of the wizarding world. A swap au where you are the chosen one, your parents are dead but the marauders + Lily are not. Eventual Harry x Reader, slowburn, friends to lovers. Author’s note: throughout this chapter I’ve put in some obvious parallels to the canon HP universe, but as we progress through the whole series, the plot may or may not become more canon divergent since you are you, and not Harry Potter… Anyways, welcome!!! Let’s see what (Y/n) (L/n), the girl who lived, gets up to. Thank you and enjoy! Series Masterlist

.｡*ﾟ🗲.*.｡　ﾟ*..🗲｡*ﾟ

Your scar was hurting.

The lightning bolt-shaped mark that rested above your right eye, in a manner of which your foster-mother, Mira Caddel, despised. Your hair had always been a flying mess because of her insistence in shaping it in such a particular way that it hid your ‘hideous scar’. You had definitely been through your pick of crude hairstyles and forced bangs in your lifetime.

It also didn’t help that your foster-sister, Odette, enjoyed grabbing the ends of it when she pushed your head into the bowl of the toilet. You swore that she ripped out at least half of your head when she did (yet, strangely enough, when you got back up, your hair was as normal as it normally was).

Anyways, back to the matter at hand, you supposed.

Your scar typically didn’t pain you. It was more like a weirdly-shaped birthmark at its best. But, right now, it was throbbing, releasing shockwaves of pain that reverberated throughout your head.

You tried thinking of what you’d done to cause this. You couldn’t have hit your head on anything (even though this was a common occurrence since you had outgrown the cupboard under the stairs years ago), because you had just woken up. You didn’t think it was the usual migraine either, because they didn’t want to make you want to scratch off your lightning-bolt scar. You quite liked it after all — it added to your timeless charm.

Maybe it was something you ate last night? What did you do last night? You couldn’t remember it point-blank but —

Oh, that was right. Seconds ago, you were fast asleep, in a dream that involved a bright green flash of light and the sound of a small child’s cry. You had a funny feeling that you’d had the same dream before.

You clutched your forehead. The pain was slowly becoming unbearable, as though someone had stabbed a knife into your brain. You looked around, hoping to find some relief or explanation, but all you saw was the familiar sight of your tiny, cramped room. The floor was littered with clothes, books, and toys that you had collected over the years, mostly from the trash or the charity shops.

A sharp rapping on the door to the cupboard caused you to jump.

A gruff voice snapped out. “Oi, girl! You awake yet? C’mon!”

You groaned, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. Callum Caddel, the final puzzle piece to your ‘family’, if that’s what one would call this arrangement. He was your foster father, a well-established family man to most, but a wacky old sod to you. He always managed to go out of his way to irritate or prod a taunting comment toward you.

Your real parents, you’d been told, were killed in a car accident when you were very little. About one year old, too. That was also how you’d acquired your lightning scar. The Caddels didn’t often answer your questions about your biological family, mostly because they didn’t know the answers themselves. You had wound up in the foster care system for about two years before they had taken you in, although you presumed the only reason they did was because they got a sum of two hundred pounds a month for it. The Caddels often did find themselves on the shorter side of the economical scale, and from your own experience, knew how they jumped like fishes out of a bowl at any chance of opportune (free) money.

You stood up, dusting off your tattered pyjamas. A spider scurried up the pant leg, and you bent down to pick it off. Spiders weren’t an odd presence in your humble abode, in fact, you thought yourself to be basically a spider magnet of sorts considering how many you’d find latched to you when you woke up.

The fast knocking resumed. “I want you out! Out!”

You pulled open the door harshly, meeting the pink, rounded, wheezing face of Callum. You snarked at him. “Woulda keep quiet, old man? I’m up.”

“Good riddance,” he spat, looking awfully sour for someone with a chocolate stain on the right side of his mouth. “Hurry up and make us breakfast, girl. We do our own jobs around here, you need to pick up slack! Least, I remind you that you were the one to pick that as your chore. Don’t you know how long we’ve waited for you to wake up?” You eyed him distastefully. “I don’t see much waiting,” referring to the brown mark on his face.

He swelled like a bullfrog, huffing and crossing his arms across his chest. “What did you say to me?” You run a hand down your face. It was too early for this. Brushing past him, you entered the kitchen and began your routine of cracking eggs onto the pan.

You had just begun to fry the bacon when Odette herself decided to grace the kitchen with her glorious presence. Odette looked like an odd mix between her two parents. Her face was in a perpetual state of pinky rage, and her neck blended seamlessly into her torso (in a way that made it seem she did not have any neck at all). Her blue eyes were wide-spread and little, obviously drawn freckles lined her cheeks, sort of in a straight line. You enjoyed making fun at how her freckles seemed to be inching ever so slightly off her face everyday. With how aggressively she would apply them, some freckles would end up roughly the same size as a failed chocolate chip cookie. Her black hair was down, greasy and shiny and damp, which didn’t help her case either.

You were glad that you were not forced to share the same bathroom as her, because the times you’d stepped foot in it (you were forced to scrub it clean, you would have never done it willingly), the poor drain was quite literally clogged with what seemed to be half of Odette’s scalp. You would say that the poor thing ate more than its owner, and that was certainly saying something.

Mira entered the kitchen soon after. Her skin was deeply tanned from all the fake-tanning solutions she’d gone through, still, it was very patchy and not done well at all. Her box-dyed blonde hair was thrown over her shoulder and she brushed her long, claw-like fingers through it. “She looks like a doll”, Callum loved to swoon and you would love to reply with exaggerated, painful gagging, which never went down well with the Caddels.

She narrowed her eyes at you before taking a seat at the table and waving her hand at you. “Glad to see you’re up.”

You glared at her, muttering “lazy oaf”, under your breath before handing out the plates until there was only yours left. It was a flimsy child’s plate, one that Odette had outgrown at the ripe age of four. You powered through your food, the smiling face of Bambi peeking through your slowly diminishing heap of bacon.

Odette’s ugly mug began to twist itself into her gruesome smirk, and her lips parted. Probably to hurl out a teasing jab at your oversized clothes (which was not a phase!) or messy hair. But, before said insult could escape your foster-sister, you all heard the click of the letter-box followed by the flop of letters on the door mat.

Too intune with the deliciously appealing food on your plate, you did your very best to ignore the petulant stares of the Caddels, the stares that edged you down expectantly to fetch the mail.

“Get the post, Odette,” you snapped at her, not glancing up from your precious.

She huffed and got up to get the post.

Your ears were finally being blessed, listening to the heavy thumps as Odette tramped her way down the corridor to the front door. Just as you sank into your chair lazily, her high-pitched shrill cut through the air of the Caddels’ kitchen.

Mira gasped and sprung up from her chair. “Odette!” She sprinted to where you’d heard the scream. The pointy part of her high heel hooked onto the leg of the chair you were sitting on, causing her to stumble. She caught herself on the back of your chair, but the force of her grip somehow managed to topple it over, sending you almost flying and then rolling across the floor.

Groaning, you sat up from your new position on the ground. The clicking of heels and the heavy pants emitted from Mira and Callum respectively grew distant, as the pair of them rushed to check on their precious daughter.

Now, you didn’t really care about the girl herself, but when there was just the slightest possibility that she could be out there, embarrassing herself or prissing her pants in fear - well, now that was an opportunity you couldn’t bear to miss.

As you follow after them, you deliberated whether or not to pop up over to get the camera in order to capture the moment ahead of you.

Looking back, you think that, perhaps, you should have, considering that very moment was to become one of the very best ones you would ever have in your life.

“Who - who are you?” you heard Callum shout. “Don’t you dare come in! Don’t y - !”

“Ah, shut up Caddel, yeh great prune.” retorted another voice.

You did not recognise that voice. The Caddels were social people, sure. They frequently left the house for social outings, like the occasional meetings run by Callum’s drill firm, but never had someone stepped foot near the house. Too ashamed to reveal the tiny size of their floor plan, you reckoned, or maybe they were afraid that the dreadful state of your cupboard under the stairs would scare the lot of them off.

Of course, that did not mean no one knew of your existence. Years of praying that some knight in shining armour would come to whisk you away from the Caddels led you to pick up on rather strange occurrences. Very strange strangers would often stop (quite dramatically too) in the middle of the street to gawk at you. A tiny, funny looking man in a violet top hat had bowed to you once, or when a terribly old woman had winked at you from inside a bus. Ms Fig, the cranky, resident catwoman and your babysitter, down the street also treated you with a gentle softness, offering you extra packs of crisps to take home with you.

The point was, this whole situation was odd. But why?

Your feet skidded against the floor as you came to a stop.

A giant man, one no less than ten feet, with a great, scraggly beard and obsidian eyes that glinted slightly in the light, was stood in the doorway. You barely had time to notice that the poor door was hanging off its hinges, like it had been forcibly opened.

The house was already rundown and shabby enough, and you hoped the giant man would pay for the repair funds. The house wasn’t big enough to fit the four of you, let alone some giant. This was evident when he squeezed his body into the house, causing the door to pop off its frame and go crashing down. The giant man jumped slightly, and the back of his head bumped into the hanging light bulb on the roof. Tiny little shards of crystals pelted down.

Odette squealed and stumbled backwards into the house. The other two, who had gone ghost white with fear, were opening and closing their mouths like lost fish. Callum raised his pointer finger at the giant man, but did nothing more.

The giant’s eyes swivelled around the room before settling on you. His face, still hidden under his mass of hair, grew into a warm smile at the sight of you. A smile, you decided, had to take second place on your very short list of best smiles (after your smile, of course. The Caddels hadn’t qualified, with their hideous jugs, so it was a meagre list of two).

“Ah, there she is! ‘Ello, (Y/n).”

You looked toward him, and if your hands wanted to tremble, you didn’t show it.

Who was this man, and how did he know your name?

“Las’ time I saw you, you was only a baby.” the giant man’s smile grew. His eyes swept you up and down, certainly taking note of the baggy, rumpled clothes you had on. “I got summat fer yeh.”

He turned around, fishing for something inside the massive coat he had on. He spun back around, brandishing two things; a letter made from yellowish parchment paper with a purple wax seal, and a slightly squashed box.

Now it was your mouth that was openly gaping at the man. He raised an eyebrow at you, grinning, before handing you the letter.

You almost ripped it out of his hands, your curiosity taking over you. The giant man chuckled at your eagerness.

Ms (Y/n) (L/n)

The Cupboard under the Stairs

5 Alva St

Midlothian

You stared at the letter.

You did often get letters. You were quite popular at school, after all, for your reckless charm. But, still, no one knew about the cupboard under the stairs. Not even a single whisper of it was breathed outside of the house.

“W-what is that?” Mira croaked out. You had forgotten she was there.

The giant man looked like he was about to snap her at but you beat him to it. “Well, that’s what I’m finding out obviously. You think I know more than you?”

The giant man huffed out a small chuckle at your hostility.

Ignoring the faint flushing of Mira’s tanned face, and Callum turning a slight purple on behalf of his wife, you flipped the letter over and yanked out the paper within.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. Of Wizards)

Dear Ms (L/n),

We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

You read the letter, and felt a warm tingle surge through your body.

Excitement.

Hagrid smiled warmly at you.

“Yer a witch, (Y/n).”

You had always known you were different, that you had something special inside you. The strange occurrences, the oddly shaped scar on your forehead. That didn’t happen to just anyone. You weren’t like the Caddels, you knew you never had been.

And now, you had proof. You were a witch. A real, honest-to-goodness witch.

You grinned down at the letter, before tilting your head at the giant man. “I can’t believe it. A witch. That’s — that’s well, incredible!”

The giant man was openly laughing at your ecstasy. Even Mira, Callum and Odette had nothing to say. You could see them craning their necks to stare at the letter in your hands.

You smiled at the giant once more when a sudden thought struck you. “Ah — er, maybe I should’ve started with this, but, who are you exactly?”

His shoulders shook with each of his chuckles. “The name’s Hagrid. Rubeus Hagrid. Keeper o’ Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts — yeh’ll know all about Hogwarts, o’course.”

Mira stepped forward, quite suddenly. “I don’t understand. A witch? What are you talking about? Witches, wizards — the whole thing! Those aren’t real!”

Your smile faltered at this. In your excitement (the prospect of finally being whisked away from here), perhaps you had allowed a cloud of delusion to settle over your head. She was right. Magic? Wouldn’t you have known if there was a magical society thriving right under your nose?

You shook your head at this. No. There had to be one. There just had to.

Hagrid’s face fell but he was quick to bring it back up. “Tha’s right. You lot are muggles. Yer hadn’t an inkling of magic.”

“What are muggles?” you asked, perking up at the unfamiliar jargon.

“A muggle,” Hagrid began, “is what we call non-magic folk like them. It’s real bad luck that you ‘ad to grow up with ‘em, instead of yer parents. I knew we shoulda left ya wit’ a wizarding family… ‘least then yeh woulda known about - ”

His eyes widened with realisation as he whipped around suddenly to face you, a sad expression taking over his features. “Then tha’ means you never learnt about yer parents. About Hogwarts. About yerself!”

He looked quite distressed, as he ran a hand down his big face. “A sad thing, really. The whole situ’tion with yer parents. A huge scandal, ‘specially since yeh don’t even know what happened. Ya know, every kid in our world knows yer name? Yer famous!”

Hagrid looked at you, his eyes sparkling brightly. You blinked dumbly.

“Yer famous!” he repeated, noticing the stunned faces on your and the Caddel’s faces. “Gulpin’ gargoyles, I knew Dumbledore said yeh didn’t know much but, I didn’t expec’ yeh knew so little.”

You sucked in a breath, chest puffing out affront. You certainly knew your stuff. Hell, you were salutatorian in your maths class, captain of the football team and the most liked person in your year level. You definitely weren’t stupid, if that was what Hagrid was suggesting.

Hagrid sighed deeply. “It begins, I suppose, with — with a person called — but its incredible yeh don’t know his name, everyone in our world knows — ”

“Who?” you asked testily, not quite enjoying the way he was talking about this whole thing like it was as obvious as the sky was blue or the grass was green.

“Well — I don’ like sayin’ the name if I can help it. No one does.”

“Why not?” “People are still scared of ‘im. Blimey, this is difficult. See, there was this wizard who went… bad. As bad as you could go. Worse. Worse than worse. His name was…” Hagrid visibly gulped.

“Can you write it down?” you suggested helpfully, unfolding your arms.

“Nah - can’t spell it. All right - Voldemort.” Hagrid flinched, like some had just rammed a knife into his back. “Don’ make me say it again. Anyways, this - this wizard, about twenty years ago now, started lookin’ fer followers. Got ‘em too - some were afraid, some just wanted a bit o’ his power, ‘ cause he was gettin’ himself power, all right. Dark days, didn’t knew who ter trust, didn’t dare get friendly with strange witch or wizards… terrible things happened. He was takin’ over. ‘Course, some stood up to him - an’ he killed ‘em. Horribly. One o’ the only safe places left was Hogwarts. Reckon Dumbledore’s the only one You-Know-Who was afraid of. Didn’t dare try takin’ the school, not jus’ then anyway.”

He breathed out, wiping at his eyes. “Now, yer mum was as good a witch I ever knew. Yer father was great as well. Brillian’, the two of ‘em were. Truly. But then, You-Know-Who turned up in the village where you was all living, on Hallowe’en ten years ago. You was just a year old. He came ter yer house an’ — an’ —”

He stopped suddenly, pulled out a very dirty handkerchief and blew his nose with it. A noise that caused the remaining chandeliers to rattle.

“He killed them,” you said quietly. It hadn’t been a car crash… no. They were murdered.

“He killed ‘em. An’ then — an’ this is the real myst’ry of the thing — he tried to kill you, too. Wanted ter make a clean job of it, I suppose, or maybe he just liked killin’ by then. But he couldn’t do it. Never wondered how you got that mark on yer forehead? That was no ordinary cut. That’s what yeh get when a powerful, evil curse touches yeh — took care of yer mum an’ dad an’ yer house, even — but it didn’t work on you, an’ that’s why yer famous. No one ever lived after he decided ter kill ‘em, no one except you, an’ he’d killed some o’ the best witches an’ wizards of the age — the McKinnons, the Bones, the Prewetts — an’ you was only a baby, an’ you lived.”

You raised your hand to cup the scar on your face. A vivid flash of green filled your vision, but this time, you could hear something else — a high, cold, cruel laugh.

Hagrid sighed again. “Took yeh from the ruined house myself, on Dumbledore’s orders. Brought yeh ter a buildin’ an’ — ” he reached for his handkerchief. “An’ left yeh there, since yeh had no other family!” Hagrid dabbed at the corner of his eyes.

The amount of questions you held grew exponentially. “But, what happened to Vol — er — I mean, You-Know-Who?”

“Good question. Disappeared. Vanished. Same night he tried ter kill you. Makes yeh even more famous. That’s the biggest myst’ry, see… he was gettin’ more an’ more powerful — why’d he go?

“Some say he died. Codswallop, in my opinion. Dunno if he had enough human left in him to die. Some say he’s still out there, bidin’ his time, like, but I don’ believe it. People who was on his side came back ter ours. Some of ‘em came outta kinda trances. Don’ reckon they could’ve done if he was comin’ back. Most of us reckon he’s still out there somewhere, but lost his powers. Too weak to carry on. ‘Cause somethin’ about you finished him, (Y/n). There was somethin’ goin’ on that night he hadn’t counted on — I dunno what it was, no one does — but somethin’ about you stumped him, all right.”

Hagrid turned to you, a mixture of warmth and respect blazing in his kind eyes. You straightened your back, preening under his gaze. So, what he was saying, basically was that you were the hero of the wizarding world. It had been you. The antidote to the disease. The champion. You were the saviour.

The Caddels gaped at you, and then at Hagrid, their heads swivelling like fans at a game of tennis. The foster-couple had their mouths angled toward the floor, looking positively bewildered and confounded at the entire exchange. You truly didn’t care what Mira and Callum thought of you. They were just muggles, according to Hagrid. They were ordinary and boring. Not like you.

You were a witch, a sorceress destined for greatness.

You looked up at the giant man, who was smiling at you with a twinkle in his eyes. “So, what do you say, Ms. (L/n)? Are you ready to join the wizarding world?”

You didn’t hesitate. You nodded eagerly, clutching the letter to your chest. “Yes, yes, yes! I can’t wait to go to Hogwarts!”

The giant man laughed heartily. “Tha’s the spirit, lass!”

“J-just hold on now,” muttered Callum, stepping forward. “That’s all dandy and all — ” you saw Hagrid’s eyebrow twitch. “— but, who’s going to be paying for her funds? Not us, I can assure you.”

Hagrid scowled. “We’ll cover it then. Ungrateful old muggle.”

You stifled a laugh.

Callum snatched the letter from your hands, inspecting the list of equipment. “She needs all sorts of rubbish — spell books, wands, cauldrons. This is just some great joke isn’t it?” He turned to you suddenly, his moustache twitching violently. “You’re in one hell of a punishment after this, girl. Think it’s funny, do you? Wasting our time with this wizarding nonsense. Some hilarious prank.”

“It’s very much real,” spoke Hagrid, his voice rising steadily. “And don’ yeh worry yer little head off, Caddel. She’s one of us. You don’t need to be butting yer head into it now. Yeh’ve done all yeh needed to fer the past ten years, bare minimum from the looks of it, but we’ve got ‘er now. ”

Callum’s face went an ugly shade of purple. “Good, I suppose.” he replied stiffly. “Then get along.”

He grabbed Mira’s shoulders and they started walking back into the kitchens. Odette turned to look at you, her eyes flickering to Hagrid, before her lips curled into a wide smirk. “Have fun, at your special school.”

You sent her a nasty glare, taking a step toward her before Hagrid disciplined her for you. A loud explosion blew Odette’s hair backwards, a warning blast that, to your pleasure, curtailed her growing ego. She shrieked and high-tailed it to the kitchen, sprinting faster than you’d ever seen her run before.

You barked out a laugh at Hagrid’s guilty face.

“Sorry, shouldn’ta lost me temper. I’d be grateful yeh if didn’t mention that ter anyone at Hogwarts. I’m — er — not supposed ter do magic, strictly speakin’. I was allowed ter do a bit ter get yer letters to yeh an’ stuff — one o’ the reasons I was so keen ter take on the job — ”

“Why aren’t you supposed to do magic?” you asked, tilting your head at him in interest.

“Oh, well — I was at Hogwarts meself but I — er — got expelled, ter tell yeh the truth. In me third year. They snapped me wand in half an’ everything. But Dumbledore let me stay on as gamekeeper. Great man, Dumbledore.”

“Why were you expelled?” “We’ve spent alotta time here,” said Hagrid loudly. “We still gotta get yer books an’ all. Let’s get goin’.”

.｡*ﾟ🗲.*.｡　ﾟ*..🗲｡*ﾟ

Diagon Alley was a strange little place.

After passing through a grubby-looking pub, the Leaky Cauldron, and getting your hand furiously shaken by everyone in the store, Hagrid had led to the small outroom beside the pub and whacked his pink umbrella against a stray, mouldy looking brick.

You raised an eyebrow unimpressed when nothing happened after a second. The very next second, however, the entire structure began to collapse and expose the treasures hidden within.

A knobbly street with stores positively hanging from the ground as they towered over everyone — even diminishing Hagrid of his giant stature. From what you could see, there was a cauldron shop with various different kinds of pewter, copper, brass, even silver cauldrons. There was an owl emporium, from which you could hear the distant chirping of owls, and a ‘Quidditch store’ (whatever that was) with boys and girls around your own age stood around the place, pressing their noses to the glass. At the very end of the street, there was a snowy-white building, significantly larger than the rest, whose sign read ‘Gringotts.’

Hagrid had debriefed you on some of the commonly known things in the wizarding world; one of which was Gringotts. Gringotts was the resident wizarding bank, where wizards would deposit their money (knuts, sickles and galleons) into vaults that were fiercely guarded by goblins. Apparently your parents had even stored a wizarding fortune for you in one of those little vaults.

And so was true. A goblin named Griphook cracked open your vault to reveal piles and mountains of bronze, silver and gold coins. You reached inside and grabbed as many coins as would fit into your pouch.

You visited another vault too, one for ‘secret Hogwarts business’ as Hagrid put it. Of course, you tried your best to get a peak at the small item wrapped delicately in its brown paper package, but Hagrid had been quick to shove it into his coat pocket.

After a tumultuous cart ride back up to the surface, you went about doing some boringish house-keeping work, which included sizing your robes, buying your books, stationary and other equipment (Hagrid wouldn’t let you get the rainbow, colour changing ink bottle nor the quill that sung melodies to you as you wrote).

The last thing that was left was getting your wand. But before that, Hagrid had departed mysteriously, telling you to stay put at Florean Fortescue's Ice-Cream Parlour with your chocolate and raspberry ice cream (with chopped nuts) until he returned.

Naturally, you did not stay put.

Sauntering over to the ‘Quidditch’ shop you had passed before, ice cream cone in hand, you joined the small crowd still present in front of the display windows. You took a small lick of the chocolate syrup as you squinted your eyes at the thing everyone was obsessing over.

A broomstick.

You stifled a laugh. Of course, witches and wizards rode brooms – what else were you expecting? It must’ve been a form of transportation here. The label under the broom read ‘Nimbus Two Thousand - newest model of the Nimbus line.’ You looked at it appreciatively.

You leaned to the right slightly, trying to look at the models surrounding the Nimbus, but you swayed too far and ended up bumping shoulders with one of the boys next to you. He jumped and turned to you with a start.

“Sorry,” you grinned at him. “I was trying to look at the other brooms.”

He smiled back at you uncertainly. “That’s fine. Are you a first-year at Hogwarts too?” The boy had messy black hair and rounded glasses perched on his nose. His brilliantly emerald-stained eyes shone out, past the glare of his lenses, as he made eye contact with you. He was quite scrawny for his age too, or perhaps that was created by the robes he was donning. Weirdly, your breath stuttered slightly. Now that was strange - your breath had never frozen quite like that before. Maybe it was part of the wizard charm, he was the first wizard you had really talked to (aside from Hagrid, but you were still unsure if he was a giant, a wizard or both).

Oh cripes, he wanted an answer didn’t he? “Uh — yes, I am. First-year. Hogwarts.” You nodded, in order to solidify your statement.

“That’s cool,” said the boy. His hair flopped onto his face and he pushed it back to expose the unmarred skin on his forehead. Your hair too had also fallen onto your face, covering your scar, but you weren’t as fussed about adjusting it. “I’m a first-year as well.” He gestured to the shop in front of you. “Do you like Quidditch? Well, you’re standing here so you probably do. Do you play much? What position?”

“If we’re being honest here, I frankly have no idea what you’re talking about.” You scratched your cheek, smiling sheepishly at the boy. He blinked, tilting his head. “Oh, like you don’t know what Quidditch is? At all?” “Yeah.” you answered. “I just came here to check out what had everyone so excited.”

“Oh, okay,” said the boy. “Are you a muggle-born then? Sorry — I hadn’t realised.” You continued to smile blankly at him, head empty from the stuff he was speaking of (what on earth was a muggle-born?).

“I’m a half-blood, see. My father’s a pure-blood, but my mum’s a muggle-born,” he said. “They’re out picking up some extra supplies with my uncles. Don’t worry if you aren’t familiar with anything yet! My mum was too, when she was invited to Hogwats, but then she ended up being top of her year and head girl. Here, let me explain Quidditch to you - you’ll love it…”

The boy rambled on with his speech about the sport - something about seven players, four balls, something called a chaser? which was what position he played. You certainly didn’t absorb anything he was saying, but you did note that he had a nice smile. A bit awkward and unsure, but it was still nice.

He was about to dive into the finer details of the game when Hagrid’s voice called out. “(Y/n)! (Y/n), where are you?!”

You grinned apologetically at the boy, stuffing the end part of the cone into your mouth. “Sorry - that’ll be me. Great talking to you though, see ya at Hogwarts!”

You began to scurry away toward the sound of Hagrid’s distressed call, missing the way the boy’s green eyes widened at your name. “(Y/n)... (L/n)?”

His father, James Potter, snuck up behind him and clasped a hand on his shoulder. “What’s up, little Prongslet?”

The rest of his family came piling up behind the two. His mother, Lily Potter, whose forest-green eyes and bright red hair were positively sparkling at the sight of her husband and son. Lagging slightly behind were his uncle, Remus Lupin – with his robes prim and proper, not shabby at all, how he liked them – and his other uncle, Sirius Black, who was currently partaking (with much joy, might one add) in trying to pull Remus’s robe hood over his face.

“Alright, Harry?” asked Lily, her fingers brushing away his bangs. “What’re you looking at?” “Um. Nothing,” said Harry Potter, tearing his eyes away from the spot you were last standing and back to his family. They met his gaze with their own warm, bright ones. “At least, I think so.”

.｡*ﾟ🗲.*.｡　ﾟ*..🗲｡*ﾟ

The thing, Hagrid had left to do, ended up being a present for you. A little something for your admission into Hogwarts, he had mentioned. You were grinning ear to ear, thanking him profusely, when you had discovered what he had given you. You were proud to say that now, tucked delicately under your left arm, was a beautiful snowy owl, fast asleep with her head under her wing. You’d have to decide a name for her later, you thought.

The final store to get checked off was a shabby building tucked nicely away in the corner of Diagon Alley. Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC.

The place was tiny and quiet, and it almost reminded you of a strange library - though the only difference was that it was near empty and the shelves were lined with boxes containing wands rather than books.

Hagrid took a seat on a small pink spindly chair, though he nearly leaped off it when a soft voice echoed out within the small shop. “Good afternoon.”

“Hello!” you said back, twisting your neck to try and get a glimpse of the voice. “I’m (Y/n) - “ “(L/n). (Y/n) (L/n), yes. I thought I’d be seeing you soon.” An old man popped up in front of you, his watery grey eyes fervently scanning your figure up and down.

Mr Ollivander touched the lightning scar on your forehead with a long, white finger. “I’m sorry to say I sold the wand that did it," he said softly. “Thirteen and a half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands… Well, if I’d known what that wand was going out in the world to do…”

He shook his head, before suddenly whipping out a measuring tape to eyeball the length of your dominant arm.

“I remember when your mother was here, buying her first wand. Twelve inches exactly, malleable, unicorn hair. Aspen.” The measuring tape flew away from his hands, now measuring the width of your nostrils by itself.

Your mouth blubbered slightly, gaping at the man in astonishment. “How do you remember that?” The man chuckled. “I remember all of the wands I’ve ever sold, (Y/n) (L/n).”

“Do you know my father’s one, then?” “Your father never purchased a wand.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. Was your father like Hagrid then? Expelled from Hogwarts before he could get a wand? (Well, Hagrid did have a wand you guessed, tucked inside his flowery pink umbrella). Your eyes widened.

Was Hagrid your fath —

“He was a muggle,” explained Mr Ollivander. The tape had now switched to measuring the length of your face. “He didn’t have any magic.”

“Oh.” was all you said in reply.

“That’s quite enough,” he spoke to the tape, which fell limp to the floor. “Right then, Ms (L/n). Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. Just take it, and give it a wave.”

You took the wand from his hands but before you could do so much as to lift it, Mr Ollivander snatched it out of your hand at once.

“Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try -”

And try you did, but Mr Ollivander had snatched it back almost instantaneously once again.

“No, no - here, ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Go on, go on, try it out.” You tried. And tried. And a little more. The pile of wands on the spindly grew and grew until the poor chair was squeaking and compressing under the weight. Yet, despite the failures in finding your wand, the more Mr Ollivander pulled from the walls, the happier he became.

“Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we’ll find the perfect match here somewhere - I wonder, now - yes, why not - unusual combination - holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple.”

You took the wand and it immediately spluttered to life. A shower of golden sparks exploded from its tips as you brought it swooshing down from your head. An explosion of colourful fireworks emitted from it, creating little light spots, like the sort you’d find at the surface of a swimming pool. Hagrid whooped and clapped and Mr Ollivander cried, “Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well… How curious. How very curious…”

He began wrapping your wand in a brown paper bag. “Curious… curious…”

“What’s curious,” you asked, furrowing your eyebrows at him.

Mr Ollivander’s silvery gaze hooked onto yours. “I remember every wand I’ve sold, Ms (L/n). Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather - just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother - why, its brother gave you that scar.”

Your throat became dry.

“Yes, thirteen and a half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember… I think we must expect great things from you, Ms (L/n)... After all, He Who Must Not Be Named did great things - terrible, yes, but great.”

Great things.

Terrible, yes, but great. That was right.

Ollivander, in his old manly rambles and silvery light gaze, was correct. That was you — (Y/n) (L/n). The only survivor of Voldemort’s wrath, and the sole hero of the wizarding world. It was you who bore the weight of this burden now, and you sure did hope that your shoulders were steady enough.

→ Author’s note: Hello my lovelies, thank you so much for picking up The Girl Who Lived series! 💖 (I think I’ll abbreviate it to TGWL when I write about it though hehe)!!! If you couldn’t tell, this will follow the plotline of the books but it will deliberately omit, add or change some events ;0 Hoped you somewhat liked the whiff of interaction we got between reader and Harry (verrryyy brief but there is more to come, promise!) You don’t have to read this next part but I like analysing and explaining texts so I’m kinda gonna go ham on this chapter//series Reader grew up with her foster family rather than her aunt and uncle like Harry. There was no particular reason for this, ‘specially since both families are pretty similar 😀 Though, one thing that I wanted to point out was that the Caddels aren’t supposed to be as abusive as the Dursleys. The Dursleys are cruel to Harry because they hate magic and they’re spiteful of it, because Petunia was jealous of Lily. On the other hand, the Caddels are an ordinary, Muggle family who happen to be quite prudent and stingy. They have a small house that’s not big enough to house four people, which is why reader lives in the cupboard under the stairs. Odette and reader’s relationship is a more hostile version of a typical sibling relationship, not the social hierarchy pyramid that was Harry’s and Dudley’s. Anyways, the point is they hold no real grudge against magic, but they aren’t fond of reader herself, hence the mocking jabs. Because of this distinct lack of hatred, not only did reader receive her letter on the first day, rather than that canon goose chase/hunt thing, but Hagrid also wasn’t as aggressive to them as he was to the Dursley’s. They don’t hate magic, nor do they hate the reader. To them, she kind of just exists This partly ties into reader’s quite arrogant and brazen personality (which I will analyse more in depth later on… no spoilers!) So yeah, the Caddels aren’t evil or abusive at heart, just a family who needs money and happens to have taken in a teenager with a bucket load of angst (which I will also tap into later ;) (One more thing soz… but if you’re wondering why you met Harry instead of Draco in Diagon Alley like in the og books, well in the canon, Harry goes to Diagon Alley like on the 31st of July (very late). On the other hand, reader received her letter first up so they went to get the supplies on like the 1st hence her and Draco’s times don’t overlap! I chucked Harry in here because since he lives with his parents now, James would def want Harry to get his stuff ASAP to teach him random crap and Lily would want him to start studying or practising for school LOL) Series Masterlist

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mewkwota · 8 months ago

Note

Do you have any tips on how to draw Omega-xis' spikeyness?

Oh gosh, I wanna assume you are talking about the light of his body? I guess I see the material being like an explosion, where it starts really big and wide then starts to narrow down. On that note, I see the material as sporadic so I think it's okay to make it look as non-uniform, so some spikes can be real long and some not.

His torso looks like the zig-zag of a lightning bolt to me, so I try to go for a shape like that and but it "explosion" again.

For his "mane", which I think of it like X-Zero's ponytail where it has this big hump at the start (but it starts at the top of his head and connects back to his neck?) then follows the same idea from before.

So maybe think about it as if Omega-Xis had regular human proportions but then make then "explosion", I'm sorry if that doesn't make a lot of sense as I'm very bad at explaining things. L(///L )

I also made a visual of what I mean if it may be more helpful:

If you were otherwise talking about his head, I find that I start with his "ears" then draw the "spikes" over his eyes to figure out the perspective I want to go for. To me, he's like recalling how to draw a furry-anthro, dragon, and a box at the same time. ^^;

#I'm sure there are other people more comfortable drawing him but this is how I go about it personally #I think as long as you find a distribution of the Longs and Shorts that you like the shape will turn out just fine #and it's okay to get messy with it #Asks #Ask Mew #when-hijinks-ensues #again sorry for any confusing wording I hope you may be able to find some helpful things here #and of course if this wasn't what you meant at all please feel free to correct me ^^;

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bestiarium · 2 years ago

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Tambanokano [Philippine mythology; Mindanao/Mandaya myths]

In the native religion of Mindanao and Mandaya (in the Philippines), the moon and the sun are somewhat important characters (or, rather, personifications of the moon and the sun). The moon was married to the sun, but her husband was angry and prone to outbursts of rage. One day, for reasons that are unknown to me, the sun became particularly mad at the moon. The moon ran away with all her might, but the sun gave chase and pursued her relentlessly. At times, the moon grew tired and slowed down, nearly allowing her pursuer to catch up with her. But he never reached her, because every time he comes close to catching his wife, the moon starts running again. And the two of them are still running, sometimes coming close to one another but never touching. And that is why the sun and the moon move across the sky.

In better times, though, the moon and the sun had children together. Among them was a magical creature, shaped like a man but glowing like a star. But the sun got angry and murdered his own son before horribly cutting the corpse up in hundreds of little bits. He then spread the tiny little bits across the night sky, where they are still glowing, just as the son did when he was whole. And that is why you can see stars at night.

Not all offspring of the sun and the moon were slain, however. One of them is named Tambanokano, and to this day he still resides in the depths of the ocean. Tambanokano is a humongous crab with power over lightning: every time the creature opens and closes his eyes, a bolt of lightning flashes in the sky. Tambanokano unfortunately inherited his father’s temper and he, too, is often angry at the poor moon. It happened several times that he becomes enraged at his mother and rises up, trying to devour the moon alive. But the people saw this and left their homes, beating gongs and shouting at the crab until the creature becomes scared of the noise and retreats to his oceanic home. And that is why the moon still exists. (Note: it is believed that this story refers to a lunar eclipse!)

Tambanokano’s dwelling is a huge hole somewhere in the ocean floor. When he is there, the ocean stands high. But sometimes he leaves his dwelling, and the water rushes into the cave, after which it becomes low tide. The movement this titanic creature makes as it wanders about the ocean floor causes waves to appear on the surface of the sea. When the crab re-enters his home, he pushes the water up again. And that is why the ocean has high and low tides.

Sources: Cole, M. C., 1916, Philippine Folk Tales. Eugenio, D. L., 2007, Philippine Folk Literature: an Anthology, UP Press, 500 pp. (image source 1: Alfred Ismael Galaroza on Artstation) (image source 2: ZanderBarcelo on Deviantart)

#Philippine mythology #mythical creatures #so that's where the stars came from #myths #mythology

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leiawritesstories · 1 year ago

Note

Happy follower celebration!! <3<3<3

May I request:

“I really want to see you first thing in the morning.”

Thank you so very much!!! 🥰💕 here you gooooo. enjoy!

Word count: 938

Warnings: none

500 followers celebration prompt fills

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Hey." Aelin tucked her phone next to her ear, holding it with her shoulder as she unlocked her car.

"Hey, Fireheart." Rowan's voice flowed through the speaker, just the sound she needed to hear after a hell of a long shift at the restaurant. "Just clock out?"

"Yeah." She pulled the clip from her hair with a relieved groan. "God, it was such a long day. So many people. So many kids. So much bullshit."

"Bet you didn't take any bullshit."

"I try." She switched her phone to speaker and set it in the cupholder before backing out of her parking spot and heading away from the restaurant where she worked. "Seems like all the ridiculous crap comes on the weekends, though."

"Want to come over?" He sounded so hopeful. "You can rant all you need, love."

She glanced at the clock. "I'm gonna swing by my place first to shower and get out of these disgusting clothes, ok?"

"Take your time." He paused. "Wait no, not too much time. I wanna see you."

She laughed. "Has anyone ever told you you're the clingy one, buzzard?"

"Don't see anything wring with it," he returned, chuckling. "I gotta go, but I'll see you soon?"

"Yeah." She blew him an invisible kiss. "Love you, buzzard."

"Love you too, Fireheart."

An hour later, showered and changed and carrying an overnight bag, Aelin walked up the front steps of Rowan's townhouse, knocked twice, and walked in. "Ro?"

"Hey." He jogged down the hall, met her in the entryway, and tipped his head down to kiss her soundly. "I made food."

She perked up, kicked off her shoes, and bolted for the kitchen. "You're the best, Ro!"

He followed, shaking his head fondly at the way she was so much more excited to see the food than him. "Maybe I should've thought twice before proposing, love. Seems you're more in love with food than your poor sad old fiancé."

"Stop that, drama queen," she laughed. "I'm just hungry, and your cooking is amazing." She gave him a broad, suggestive wink. "I'll get a whole free chef when we get married."

"Trust me, love, I can handle myself in the kitchen." He wrapped his arms around her from behind.

"You like it better when I handle you, though," she hummed, casually serving herself a big bowl of the soup he'd made.

Rowan spluttered, his face flaring bright read. "Aelin!"

She burst into bright laughter. "I'll never get tired of seeing you all riled up, love."

He mumbled something incoherent about just how much she loved doing that to him and wisely changed the subject. "Wanna watch a movie?"

"When have I ever said no to that?" she grinned. "Let me guzzle this soup like a starving madwoman first and then yes, absolutely I do."

"Take your time, love," he laughed. "I need dinner too, y'know."

"Oh, so you didn't make this whole pot of soup just for me?"

"Nope." He grabbed his own bowl ad filled it up. "Sorry to disappoint."

"Guess I have to knock a star off your Yelp review," she teased.

He laughed softly and nudged her towards the kitchen table. "For someone who's supposedly so hungry, you sure aren't doing a lot of eating, Ae."

Once she had a full, satisfied stomach, Aelin helped Rowan clear away the dishes, waving off his protest that he could do it all by himself, and went to the hall closet to get a big armful of fluffy blankets. Rowan's mom kept buying him throw blankets every fall and winter, insisting that he needed "splashes of color to liven up his boring gray house." Rowan pretended to be annoyed, but Aelin knew he secretly loved his collection of seasonal blankets. She loved the blankets, at least.

"How many of those does one person even need?" he teased as he came into the living room to find her snuggled into a blanket cocoon on the L-shaped couch.

"Not all of us are human furnaces, buzzard," she returned. "What are we watching?"

"Hmm...well, I'm in a classic cinema mood tonight."

"Oh gods," Aelin mock-groaned. "Why aren't you ever in a rom-com mood, you know, like a normal person?"

"Since when have I ever been a rom-com person?" Rowan asked dryly. "Besides, I know you want to watch The Godfather."

"You're too good at the bribery thing." She moved the blankets aside enough for him to sit down. "C'mere, buzzard."

Rowan obediently settled down beside her, stretching out his long legs so she could cuddle herself snugly against the toned planes of his body. He turned on the movie, turned off the lights, and tucked Aelin's blankets comfortably around her. Knowing full well she probably wouldn't stay awake for the whole movie, he idly combed his fingers through her hair.

Aelin lasted an hour before she was asleep on his chest, her breath brushing his collarbones in even pulses. A tender smile curled his lips as he watched her peaceful face. He watched the rest of the movie, turned the TV off, and rested there on the couch, his fiancée asleep in his arms.

She blinked awake a few minutes later. "Movie done?" she mumbled.

"Mhmm." He kissed her forehead. "You made it a whole hour; I think that's a new record."

"You're mean." She poked his chest, not causing any actual harm thanks the the layers of blankets. "Le's'go upstairs. Sleep. Bed."

He chuckled. "Are you propositioning me, love?"

"Nope." She shook her head. "I just really want to see you first thing in the morning."

Gods, the way Rowan's heart fluttered at that simple statement.

~~~

TAGS:

@live-the-fangirl-life

@superspiritfestival

@thegreyj

@wordsafterhours

@elentiyawhitethorn

@morganofthewildfire

@backtobl4ck

@rowanaelinn

@house-of-galathynius

@tomtenadia

@julemmaes

@swankii-art-teacher

@charlizeed

@booknerdproblems

@chronicchthonic14

@earthtolinds

@goddess-aelin

@sweet-but-stormy

@clea-nightingale

@autumnbabylon

@darling-im-the-queen-of-hell

@llyncooljones

@silentquartz

#my writing #answered prompt #leia's 500 followers thing #rowaelin #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #rowan x aelin #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin fanfiction #throne of glass fanfic #rowaelin fluff #rowaelin domestic fluff #actual tooth rotting fluff

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fantasies-fairytales-n-fics · 9 months ago

Text

Code Blue Ch. 49-No Escape From Now

Summary: Josie spends a long stormy night with Dave. The boy who cried wolf puts him in the dog house. A sweet smelling apology is made. CHEERS! The thunder rolls and Josie has had enough. The boy cries bloody wolf again. The new sunny side up morning brings many surprises. The early bird catches more than the worm. Someone's anger gets the best of them. You have the right to remain silent. A shocking reveal comes to light as Lee remembers.

*Chapter Warnings* DARK, language, angst, alcohol use, mentions of murder, graphic gif depictions, self pleasure, smut, mild violence, arrest,

Chapter characters: Josie, David, Luke, Lee

Chapter word count: 5,317

Grandview, MA

March 21, 2022

You were stiff as a board on the long and treacherous drive back to Dave's as the relentless rain had mutated into an angry wind storm full of tumultuous thunder and livid lightning along the way. He tried to hold your hand to calm your anxiety but you insisted he keep both of his hands on the wheel. Finally, after 30 torturous minutes of having to pee, Dave pulled into the driveway of his humble little abode in Grandview that was perfect for a bachelor like him and a perfect getaway for you, but deep down you knew that there was no escape from now.

"You ready??" Dave asked with his hand on the door handle. "1...2.......3!"

Bolting out of the truck, you squealed as you ran into the dry safe haven of the foyer with Dave chuckling behind you.

"You don't lock your doors?" you panted as you dripped all over the floor.

"Guess I forgot in my rush to chase a 5 year old ghost." he jested and helped you out of your wet jacket. "I'll go check the house if it will make you feel better."

"Yeah well...duhh!" you riposted and stood in place while you watched Dave run up the creaky wooden stairs, skipping every other step with his long strides.

After hearing his footsteps and door after door close to the 3 bedrooms, bathroom and closets...all went quiet.

"Dave??" you meeped as you leaned without stepping out of place to peek up the L shaped staircase.

There was still no answer and then.....

"AHHH!!!!" Dave bellowed, sending you sprinting backwards against the front door.

Frozen solid and panting heavily, you managed to stutter out his name. "D...David!?"

You gasped and damn near relieved your full bladder as Dave's hand slapped over the doorway's frame and then his face slowly appeared with a wicked grin.

"You....ASSHOLE!!!"

You stomped off through the kitchen and into the bathroom, slamming the door shut as hard as you could.

"Josie." Dave snickered as he tapped on the door. "I'm sorry. I was just playi..."

"If I didn't have to pee so damn bad, I would have gotten a frying pan and knocked you into next week!... Arrrrgh!"

"Jo, really. I'm sorr...."

The toilet flushed and the door instantly swung open with you standing there, you lips pursed and your narrowed eyes fuming.

"Damn you're so cute when you're mad."

"Asshat." you snarled and shoved past him to the kitchen where you angrily pulled out 2 margarita glasses with the cactus stems and stared him down. "Well??? It's midnight, margarita man and they better be extra strong."

"Yes dear." he snarked as he now stood before you, peering down at you with an arched brow.

"What?"

"The blender. It's behind you."

"Oh..."

You stepped aside with a huff and went to sit on a stool at the table bar that extended off of the gas stove island in the center of the small but homey kitchen and watched him collect the items to concoct his merciless margaritas. The same ones he made at Jason's funeral reception that, by the end of the night, had Orlando carrying you up to your bed.

"Damn it." Dave snapped as he rooted through the fridge.

"What now?"

"I don't have any oranges or limes."

"Soooo, use that Rosie's lime juice and surely you must have some OJ??"

Dave gasped. "Sacrilege! Fresh squeezed is the only way to go to create my magicritas."

"Alright Mr. perfectionist. Wine will have to do."

"Nope. I promised midnight margaritas and that is what I will make you. Just give me 15 minutes."

Dave began putting his coat back on with a rain jacket over top and grabbed his keys.

"Wait, what are you doing????"

"Running down to the 24/7 on the corner."

"In this storm?? At midnight???"

"Citrus Jo. Need citrus. It's right around the corner. You know that. I'll be back in a jiffy."

Before you could further protest, Dave was out the door and driving off in his truck.

You locked the door behind him and went back to the kitchen to at least grab a beer and some snacks while you waited. Upon opening the fridge, there in plain sight sat a bag of oranges and limes.

"What the???" you whispered as you yanked them out of the fridge. "What the hell are you up to my bff?"

You popped open the strangely named beer that you were not even going to attempt to pronounce and sat back down, sipping on it with a sour expression, for to simply put it, it tasted like shit and as you waited in your parched boredom, your thoughts began to roam about Dave's gift that Lee also possessed.

Dave had first opened up to you about his ability to see and speak to the dead shortly after a trauma he had suffered which you had helped him through. Although he had seen things as a child, the older he got, the less the occurrences became until they eventually ceased altogether but his mediumship strangely returned after witnessing his biological father, Victor Cassadine, murder the man he had known as his father for most of his life, Duke Lavery. It had all went down at a yearly Metro Court event, the Nurses Ball, that you attended with Dave and Britt. Later that evening, you found Dave on the pier, holding Duke who died in his arms from a bullet wound to the chest and Victor was never implicated because, before you showed up, he coerced Dave to lie by threatening the people he loved.

The rich and powerful Cassadine clan weren't connected to the mob but were highly infamous nonetheless with their Russian royalty bloodlines, pretty much like Gerry's Greek tycoon father, Victor Kiriakis and in your opinion, they both put the mafia to shame with their capabilities and lack of morals, which is why Dave's relationship with his father was a bit rocky, unlike Gerry's with his dad and that always baffled you since he was a law abiding citizen with a badge. None of it made sense with Dave either, for he still adored his troublesome mother who had many ties to that world, one being of Cesar Faison, Britt's terrorist father. Organized crime or not, it was all the same to you and you had become sucked into all of it beginning with one person. Jason.

Now your thoughts went to Lee. He had certainly suffered a great trauma. The accident with Jacob and his death. Could that be a relevant reason as to why Lee could see his son? He had also seen his mother and father at one point. But why was it happening now and not then? Or could this all be related to something that happened long ago and has something to do with what Lee has been harboring? Maybe you should just go and force it out of Luke but, would that further damage things between you and Lee? Or maybe...too much damage had already been done and you should just let it all go. Lee included.

You heard the slamming of Dave's truck door and ran to greet him because now you felt bad for jumping down his throat, although he deserved it.

The front door opened before you could open it and in walked a damp but still dashing Dave who whipped the hood of his raincoat off and quickly handed you a dozen red roses that he was concealing behind his back.

"For you." he softly said with a sweet smile. "I'm really sorry."

"These are some odd looking fruit. You went out in this mess just to buy me an apology?"

"Actions speak louder than words."

"Yeah well now you owe me one for lying about the reason you went." you quipped and you inhaled the heavenly floral aroma, then headed to the kitchen in search for a vase.

Dave followed you as he removed his coat and shoes, then he saw the oranges and limes on the counter.

"Busssted....but if I would have told you why I was going, it just wouldn't have been as meaningful as a surprise."

You approached him and pushed his saturated strands from his baby blues. "Alright. You're forgiven, now get busy. You're late."

Dave glanced at the clock that now said 12:15. "On it! Why don't you go pick out that movie."

"K...but I've had enough horror for the night. How about a fantasy? We still need to watch Snow White, A Tale of Terror."

"And that's not horror??" Dave asked as he kicked the blender on.

"It's more witchy than slasher."

"You've only seen it a thousand times. You just like go on about Gutenberg, swearing that he is me. And let us not forget that his first name is Peter."

"Never mind that. They say everyone has a twin and he is yours."

Dave came in with the drinks, sat them down and got a fire going.

"I do not look like him and I hate his clothes, plus he has red hair Jo. The only one that looks good around here with fiery tresses is you."

"Hmmm I don't know. Gutenberg is pretty hot." you giggled as you took a huge gulp of your liquid gold.

"Right. That must be why Lilli wanted to be with Will instead. Wait, did you just call me hot?"

"Nope. You don't look like him remember??"

"Alright, the movie is going in Princess. Zip your lip unless it's to drink."

You grinned and cuddled up beside him on the couch. After halfway through the movie and 3 drinks in, you couldn't hold your tipsy tongue anymore.

"See!!! LOOK. It's YOU!! Baby blues and all!!"

"Ok. You're cut off." he chuckled. "It's almost 2 am Josie. Let me put the fire out and help you up to the guest room."

"I can walk Davey!"

"Josie, even when sober, you couldn't walk from here to the front door without tripping over nothing."

"Hardy har har. Fine. I have so much shit to do tomorrow anyways but right now, all I want to do is sleep off this twisted tequila."

Dave took care of the fireplace as you sucked out every last drop from your glass, then his and when you stood up, the booze caught up with you. Down you went, laughing like a hyena.

"You see?? Come on. It's piggy back time."

Dave crouched over in front of you and you clumsily climbed on, burying your nose into his rain scented hair, then up the stairs he carried you and let you slide down onto the bed.

"Goodnight Jo Jo."

You took his hand and wouldn't let him go as he turned to leave.

"Thank you for the roses and the midnight madness. You know I love you right?"

Dave's smile held a subtle sadness. "Just not in the way Lilli loves Will."

"Dave I..."

"Shhh. Go to sleep. I'm right next door if you need me. Night Jo."

He kissed your head and left, shutting the door behind him and you laid there for a moment, gazing at the spinning ceiling.

"Not in the way I love you Lee." you whispered and then your eyes closed.

3 hours later, they popped wide open when a bellowing boom of thunder shook your bed. Gasping as you realized where you were, you ran straight into Dave's room in a panting panic, startling him awake from his deep slumber. You never understood how anyone could sleep through such a ruckus.

"Josie? Hey, it's ok. Come here."

"No. No Dave. I...I need to go home."

"What? Jo, it's 5:30 am. Wait till sunrise and I'll make you some breakfast, then I'll take you. Come lay down with me. I won't bite....hard." he joked as he bobbed his brows up and down.

You knew he was just trying to help you relax but you couldn't do it. You had already felt guilty about sleeping in Orlando's bed the night, even if it was solely to keep an eye on his breathing after Luke had almost choked the life out of him. You had been honest with Lee and he understood, but you didn't think he would about it being over a storm.

"Dave, no. I really shouldn't."

He sighed and seemed a bit peeved. "We've been best friends for how long now and I have never tried anything on you now have I? I wouldn't do that. I don't see the problem with trying to comfort you when you're scared."

"Dave I know that. That's not the problem. It's...Lee."

"How did I already know that?" he bemoaned.

"Dave, I..."

"Josie, it's fine. I'll get up and take you."

"Well...could we still eat breakfast first? I'm really hungry."

"Sure. Let me go grab a shower. I'll see you downstairs in a bit." he uttered and headed down the hall to the bathroom.

You ran to the doorway. "Dave, you shouldn't take a shower in a stor..."

"I'll be fine Josie." he interrupted with a sigh full of sarcasm and shut bathroom the door without even looking back at you.

Dave turned the water and undressed, then climbed in when it was cold enough to wake him up and put other parts of him to sleep. he leaned on the wall and doused his head under the cool stream as he stared down at his uncooperative morning wood, so he decided to quickly satisfy it's needs.

After lathering up his hand with some soap, he swiftly brought his throbbing member to a hip shattering release in merely 20 vigorous strokes just to get it over with, for he felt guilty that he thought of you while doing so and he blamed it on the dream he was having just before you woke him up. One where you desired him in ways he could have never imagined.

As he panted through the last pulse, he then raised the temperature to a tolerable warmth and let the water drown his face...until he realized the water had turned to blood.

"AHHHHH! HEY!!!" he shrieked as he backed away in a daze.

You sat on the edge of his bed, checking your phone to see if your mom had called and since she hadn't, you figured no news was good news and surprisingly, you didn't have any texts or calls from Lee either, which you weren't so sure if that was good news.

You brought up Lee's number and as your finger hovered with hesitancy over the call button, you heard Dave's yell and this time, it sounded legit. Dropping your phone, you raced to the bathroom door but it was locked so you you began pounding on it.

"Dave!!! What's wrong???!!!"

He stared up at the showerhead and then in a moment of clarity and humiliation, he realized it was only rust.

"I'm fine, I'm fine. It's just a plumbing job I did the other day. Rusty water."

"O...oh." you sighed in relief and then giggled. "Gross."

"I heard that! Not funny Jo."

You started singing to tease him. "Karma karma karma karma karma chameleon, you come and go, you come and gooooo ohhh!"

"Girl, I'm going to come out there butt ass naked and carry you in here with me! Here I come!!" he playfully threatened.

"Oh hell no!" you squealed and ran downstairs laughing, knowing he wasn't going to chase you naked.

As you stood in the downstairs bathroom brushing your teeth with the toothbrush Dave kept there specifically for you, you had to smile. One of the best things about your relationship with Dave was that it was easy. There were no secrets and you both understood each other without even having to speak and even when you pissed each other off, it only lasted a hot minute. He was a safe place for you. If you hadn't been involved with Gerry when you met Dave, things might have been different between you and Dave.

The storm had passed and as you and Dave finished up your breakfast of French toast and sausage, the early bird was outside waiting for his meal. A meal ticket that was....and just then, the landline rang.

Dave sighed with an eye roll and wiped his mouth, then got up to answer it.

"Probably work wanting me to come in early since I'm due back today from my vacation. Hello? Dr. Conrad speaking."

"Ahh, Dr. Conrad. Just the person I have been trying to reach. Clearly you are home since you answered the phone and also there's your truck in the driveway. I guess you just didn't hear me knocking earlier."

Dave went straight to the living room window and peeled back the curtain.

"I was in the sho...I'm sorry, who is this?" he asked with furrowed brows and then caught sight of the forest green dodge charger parked in front of the neighbor's house with deeply tinted side windows.

"Pardon my manners doctor. I'm detective Luke Evans with the Salem Police Department. I have been trying to reach you for questioning in the matters of the recently deceased Elizabeth Webber and now, an injured, possibly attacked miss Megan March. Both women you know. May I come up?"

"It's 8 am??''

"Well you've been a hard man to locate so I figured I'd have a better shot at catching you bright and early. This won't take long."

"Give me a minute."

"I'll be right here waiting. Alright bye."

Dave hung up and Luke watched the front door like a hawk.

"Dave?? Who was that? Is someone here?" you asked in concern as you stood in the dining room watching him.

"Just as you said last night at the hospital. That the cops would be all over this."

"The police are here???"

"Just one. Your new favorite detective."

"Ohhhh hell no. Luke...is here??"

You whipped the curtain back open, but didn't see his bike. "Where??"

"Green charger."

Once you saw it, your anger towards him resurfaced from his prior visit at Lee's lake house and you bolted right out the door.

"Unnnnbelievable!" you erupted as you marched straight for him which caught Luke off guard , for he was just as stunned to see you as you were him.

He didn't even have a chance to get out of the car when there you were, dispensing your rage at him outside his window.

"You came all the way to Grandview?! What are you doing here??!!"

He rolled the window down with his hazel hues locked in yours. "Can I get out of the car to explain?"

You stepped back with a huff and a sarcastic sway of your arm in a gesture of agreement.

"By all means, please do detective dick."

Luke sighed as he stepped out. "Classy Jo. Do you want to tone it down a little bit?"

No, I do not. Not even a little bit and don't speak to me about class when you know nothing about it."

"Ok, I get it. You're still salty...."

"Salty?" you derisively laughed. "I'm furious! You do know interrogation rooms at the POLICE station are there for a reason?? Yet you insist on randomly showing up at people's homes like a feral fucking cat. All you had to do was call him and ask him to come in and he would have."

"I did call. Multiple times this morning before I came here, but I guess you and the good doctor here were.....sleeping?"

You wanted to wipe his smug smirk right off of his face. "Ohhhh, don't you even. Yes, we WERE sleeping and not that it's any of your business, if you must know, I slept in the guest room."

"Well thank you for the 411 but now I need some from David if you don't mind."

"Actually I DO mind. This is bullshit and..."

Dave appeared next to you. "Josie, it's ok. I have nothing to hide."

"I know you don't but this is not ok Dave!"

"Look Jo. The sooner the doc here answers my questions, the sooner I can get out of your hair unless you want to keep interfering with the investigation, then..."

"Then what Luke? You'll arrest me??"

He took a step forward and now stood towering over you, peering down with a cocky brow.

"Don't tempt me."

You stood your ground and stepped forward as well with your stomach merely inches from his as you glared up at him.

"Go ahead. I dare you."

Luke dropped his head and smiled, shaking his head in disbelief as he rubbed his eyes and heavily sighed.

"You do realize I am just doing my job right? Would you be giving Gerry such a hard time of he were the one here??"

"Yeah well I hate your job and yes, yes I would be the same way with Gerry but I would rather deal with him than you any day."

"Well he's not here. I am, so deal with it or I can begin reading you your rights. Your choice sweetheart."

"Fine." you sneered and then mumbled under your breath as you moved beside Dave. "God I can't stand him."

"Alright. David. First things first." Luke began as he pulled out his pen and little black book that Craig had called it. You chuckled inside when you also remembered what he called Luke. An audacious British fuck, for that he was.

"Where were you 2 nights ago on the 20th of March up to last night when you arrived at the hospital with the injured miss March?"

Dave's eyes flowed down to you with reluctance, for he knew you were going to flip when you heard his answer.

"I...was on Spoon island. I had actually been there for the past 6 days."

Your mouth dropped open. "You were at Wyndemere????!!! And you're just now telling me this??"

"He's actually telling me." Luke griped at you, then aimed his next question at Dave. "What's Wyndemere?"

Of course you answered for Dave as you stared at the nervous doctor and it was quite acerbic.

"Oh it's just Dracula's creepy castle on it's very own remote island on the outskirts of Salem, how fitting, and it has an abundance of secret tunnels probably filled with coffins and let us not forget the multiple parapets that people have either fallen from or been tossed off of over the years."

Dave became annoyed. "Ok, my father is not a vampire and that castle is just a mansion on an island with a cottage and even a horse stable. It was a nice getaway from life."

Now your eyes gaped to match your mouth. "Since when do you call Victor your father???"

"Since that's what he is Jo!"

"By DNA only!!! He's a murderous monster or did you forget what he..."

"That's enough Jo." Dave spat through his teeth with his eyes reminding you to keep your mouth shut.

"Yes, that's enough of your whinging." Luke protested. "David, what is Victor's full name and what is this about murder??"

"Victor Cassadine. You may have heard the surname before as it's quite notorious, just as the rumors are, like Josie was speaking of."

"And this man is your father as you stated? Will he vouge for you?"

"Yes. I am sure he will."

"Is there anyone else that can also attest to your whereabouts? And...at anytime during your stay, did you leave the island?"

"There's a ferry that goes to and from there at specific times, but I did not leave. You can question the ferryman. It's always the same guy except on rare occasions. He saw me and I do have my tickets for both their and back. I'll go get them."

"That was quite the detailed narrative there Josie. Did you get that from watching the vampire diaries? Or maybe from that book you were reading? The Cult of Dolos was it?"

"Oh shut up. Now that we have a minute alone. Why don't you tell me about Sam Colin???"

All of Luke's movements ceased as his eyes seemed hypnotized by that name.

"Wh..who?"

"Don't play dumb with me. Lee told me and now I want to hear it from you."

Luke was now trying to read you like a book as he shifted his weight to one leg and raised a brow.

"Lee told you huh? Told you what...exactly?"

"That you set him up somehow."

"Somehow? So Lee did NOT tell you." Luke stepped forward again, so close that you actually took a step back. "Don't toy with me Jo. I don't like games."

"I'm not toying with you. He told me Luke. All about how that name was one of Peter's aliases, but of course he did not know that at the time and something bad...really bad, happened because of it and I want to know what it was."

Luke's jaw clenched and grinded. "Did it ever occur to you that if he wanted you to know, he would tell you or...just maybe... he can't tell you?? Why can't you just leave well enough alone??"

"Because Lee isn't well!! He's changing because of whatever this fucking secret is. Do you even care about him at all??? Ever since you came back, it's triggered something inside of him. He physically attacked me from a deep sleep because he thought I was someone that was trying to hurt him!! I also know that Peter's brother, some Charles Rane who was a terrorist like their father Faison, was involved and that Lee set off some bomb that killed him. And he also talked about people being shot in front of him!"

"Well it would seem you have the answer to your question then. It makes sense yes? Lee is simply having some PTSD episodes."

"And it was something you caused to happen! It all makes sense as to why he has been so aggressive towards you. So what was it Luke?? What did you do to him? According to him, you and he were really close at one time and now all he wants to do is rip your head off after what you did to Landy. What did you do Luke????"

"Ok. You need to back your ass up and stay in your lane. This has nothing to do with you little girl. You wanna fuck with the bull, you gotta deal with the horns." he snarled in your face with flaring nostrils like that of said bull which was very similar to what he had done to you at Orlando's.

"This ain't my first rodeo with a steer, you know, a castrated male trying to compensate for what he lacks by playing tough guy?"

"You know, I will never understand what Lee ever saw in you. If anyone has changed him, it's you. I thought Liz was the cause of his downfall, but you..."he chuckled. "you clearly have her beat. Tell me Jo, does Lee know you're here? You really seem to like that doctor dick. Which one is bigger? Lee's, Dave's or Landy's?? Inquiring minds want to know."

Like a bull, you saw red and just snapped. A sharp sear of adrenaline mixed with anger rushed through you and you charged Luke, shoving him hard against his car.

"WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM??!!!"

The next thing you knew, Dave's arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you back.

"Josie, what the hell are you doing??!!"

Dazed and confused, Luke held his back against the car for a few seconds and then his lips planted together in a thin line as he became fed up. He abruptly pushed himself up, pulled out his handcuffs and grabbed your wrist,

"That's it. You have the right to remain silent." he began to recite as your eyes widened at the click of the first cuff.

"Whoa whoa. What are you doing??" Dave intervened.

Luke took you other wrist and continued, ignoring the concerned doctor as you and Luke's eyes were fixed upon each other.

Click.

"Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. Do you understand the rights I have just read to you? With these rights in mind, do you wish to speak to me?”

You said nothing as you glowered up at him.

"Come on man. Can't you give her a break?" Dave desperately asked.

"I am. I handcuffed her in the front." Luke gloated and opened the front door of his car. "Which is why you will sit where I can see you."

You refused to move as he placed his hand on your upper arm. " Gerry will take care of this. I'm not worried Dave."

"You assaulted a police officer. Although it's misdemeanor in Massachusetts, it carries anywhere form 90 days to 2 and a half years. Even Gerry can't make that go away for an entitled brat like you."

"We'll see about that...and on the ride back...don't speak to me and I won't speak to you ok?." you barked and got in the car.

"You promise?" Luke cheerfully riposted.

Luke buckled you in, roughly tugging the belt to tighten it and then brought his lips only inches from yours, his hot mouthwash breath tickling your lips as he whispered with a smug smirk.

"Comfy?"

He slammed the door and turned to Dave, taking the ferry tickets from him and then he got in the car and as he drove away, you frowned and looked at Dave as you mouthed 2 words to him.

"I'm sorry."

Lee awoke from his drug and alcohol induced slumber feeling worse than he had the night before and it wasn't from medicating himself. It was the lucid dreams that he couldn't escape from no matter what he put in his body to try and tame them, for there was no escape from now.

As he stood at the bay window in his high rise office, flashes of those dreams haunted him, only they weren't dreams. They were memories.

All he wanted to do was pick up the phone and call you and tell you everything, but he could barely weather the visions, let alone speak of them. How was he supposed to tell you that the cause of his mother's death and his father's illness were all a lie?

Lee reached down into his pocket and pulled out a silver pocket locket that he belonged to his father. As he opened it, he stared down at the photo he had placed inside of his young parents and him as a baby.

With tears of guilt growing in his sapphire eyes, he spoke to it.

"I wasn't the good son you told me I was dad. If you could have remembered, you would have never said it. You've been gone a month today, but I guess you had already been gone years before that. I'm sure you know everything now, wherever you are and I hope you can forgive me."

Lee snapped the locket shut and dried his tired eyes, then headed home to shower and later go to visit his mom and dad's graves. Maybe even go to church that he had been neglecting and ask God for forgiveness as well. Even as upset as you were with him, he prayed you would come still come for the visit, for he needed you now more than ever.

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