#maybe? assigning fairytales could be fun too actually...

[monstrsball]

okay hear me out. once upon a time haikyuu au. demon king oikawa casts the curse when he realizes the hero and his party are closing in on him... pondering. having thoughts.

[legobiwan]

For a writing prompt: maybe something with Luigi and polterpup? Or just Luigi and ghosts in general. The fact that ghosts are Real and Present in that world has always been super fascinating and a little upsetting to me haha. Could be as light or as angsty as you wish I just think Luigi being terrified of ghosts and having to (or in polterpup’s case, choosing to) be around them constantly is a fun concept to toy around with.

Apologies this took so long, anon. I vastly underestimated the demands of my travel schedule over the past few weeks. Oof. But now we're back!

Minor TWs in this one for general talk of death, existentialism, and broad references to both animal and child death (nothing graphic, nothing extreme, no on-screen death).

~~~~~~~~~~~

Of Ghosts and the Afterlife (Luigi’s Mansion 1)

Luigi didn’t like to think about death.

Not that there was much he could do about it. Death was as inevitable as a subway car with broken air conditioning on a hundred-degree day.

There was no such thing as the afterlife, Luigi having long ago abandoned the faith his brother and what remained of their family clung to, a practice more cultural than spiritual, steeped in the mores and traditions of a country and people he shared little in common with beyond his last name and an untamable mane of wavy, thick brown hair. 

For Luigi, death was death - game over, end of the line, see you never. A philosophical problem he didn’t enjoy contemplating, but one he could easily shove into a forgotten closet of his subconscious, the more pressing concerns of his daily life taking up his mental energies, banal things like scraping up enough plumbing jobs to pay the rent, dealing with corroded spark plugs in the repair van, and being forced make a meal of the questionable meatball subs from the corner bodega.

Death was death. Religion was religion. And ghosts were…a fairytale, a folklore conjured to rationalize away the heavy weight of existential dread. That, or something used as a cudgel, to keep people on the side of moral righteousness, lest they be doomed to walk the earth for all eternity in the shadows of existence.

Ghosts were a thought experiment. A fun diversion in a cramped Bensonhurst studio, the heating bill long unpaid, he and his brother buried under a set of fraying blankets, their father’s hefty industrial flashlight in hand, competing to see who could scare the other the most as the D Train rattled its metal bones past their window at two in the morning.

Mario was good at stories. (Mario was good at everything). And it wasn’t that Luigi was afraid of the spirits his brother would describe in gruesome detail, the way they’d seep through cracks and keyholes, wrapping their grey, misty arms around skinny, lost children who kept too many secrets. No. He couldn’t be afraid because ghosts weren’t real.

Not until he had been unceremoniously dumped into the Mushroom Kingdom, that was. 

He could deal with the existence of Boos. Well, that wasn’t entirely true, but he could at least assign them a category outside the paranormal. Boos were just another strange species, a bunch of floating marshmallows that looked like ghosts and acted like ghosts, but in no way were actual ghosts. Boos were something real, something alive, but beyond Earth’s limited taxonomies, just like everything else in this impossible world of talking mushrooms and tyrant turtles and evil wizards and booted dinosaurs and a million-and-one things that could leap out with fangs or fire or spikes and kill you at any moment - 

Death, he had once nervously told his brother over a campfire on the outskirts of Toad Town, felt like it had become a way of life. 

The letter had arrived on a crisp autumn morning, the early sunlight peeking through the gaps of Luigi’s drawn curtains. He remembered thinking it was a clean kind of light, unsullied by the drudgery of heavy coats and thick scarves, of greying slush and oily puddles pooling in the gutter, cigarette butts bobbing up and down like the stained buoys off Brighton Beach. Life had been, if not normal (he didn’t think he’d ever consider his existence in the Mushroom Kingdom normal), at least less chaotic than usual. There had been no invasions, no kidnappings, no pleas from neighboring kingdoms for help. For the first time in a long time, his daily routine was…pedestrian. A little boring, even. It was a nice change of pace.

He should have known better. Did know better. 

No one gave away mansions.

Yeah, and I’m sure they also have a bridge in Brooklyn they’d like to sell me he had muttered, crumpling up the notice, tossing it into a dented, mushroom-shaped garbage pail without another look as he groped for a gurgling coffee pot.

Three days later, a short, wiry old man was thrusting a souped-up vacuum into his hands, blathering all kinds of nonsensical instructions about ectoplasm and strobe lights and hearts and all that Luigi could think through the high-pitched static descending on onto his brain is that my brother is in danger and holy shit this entire mansion is filled with actual, real ghosts.

There was no time to wrap his head around the metaphysics of it all, the very real danger of being killed by an entire army of irate specters overriding any considerations as to the how or why of the entire situation. Ghosts apparently existed, not only as Boos, but as colorful, globulous forms, as cantankerous old knitting women, as mechanical, murderous toy soldiers, and worst of all, as small children and even screaming babies, the terrible implications of which rattled around Luigi’s already frenzied consciousness as he sucked the heart from a wailing infant, in all likelihood murdering it a second time. (A hazy memory had surfaced, a small, doll-like figure laid on a cheap, linoleum kitchen table, legs unstable as a small cadre of extended relatives wept and laid kisses on the child’s forehead. Forty and eight hour, their great-grandmother had commanded in broken English. To be sure the true dead. Spirito.)

It had been less than twenty-four hours, he reminded himself. Mario wasn’t dead. Or undead. Or whatever. Not according to tradition, and certainly not according to Luigi’s empirical observations (which seemed to be holding less and less weight as the paranormal evening drew on). No, he had seen his brother through the marble fangs of the dragon’s head. He was in the painting, banging for his life against an invisible prison of oils and canvas, his mouth open in a silent scream.

A victim of magic, but not a ghost.

Not if Luigi had anything to say about it.

He ran. Up broken, splintering sets of stairs; down dimly-lit corridors with threadbare rugging; through trap doors and flocks of toothy, golden bats, vacuum hose at the ready, sucking away at anything even resembling a ghost (how many curtains, how many dresses and bedsheets had he whisked into shreds all because of the ripple of a breeze or a trick of the light?)

He fought his way through chamber after chamber, slurping phantasms from earthly existence, unwilling to consider just what he’s damning his enemies to, if he’s killing them again, if they can feel pain or remorse, if this whole situation is maybe a figment of his imagination and in reality he’s back in Brooklyn, or worse, committed to a padded cell in Bellevue, colorful apparitions dancing on blank, white walls, the evidence of a broken mind. 

He found his brother’s portrait hung in a baroque, gilded antechamber, the room something as alien as the specters he had been fighting, his grimy boots sinking into blood-red, lush carpeting as gems and pearls and other precious-looking stones twinkled in the light of a silver candelabra. 

The keeper of Mario’s canvas prison turned to greet him, a gargantuan Boo with a jeweled crown named “King Boo” - an uninspired moniker if there ever was one - who pontificated at length, swearing vengeance on both Mario and Luigi, demanding reparations in blood and soul for crimes Luigi couldn’t even begin to understand, no less remember. 

Did I kill him? Luigi had panicked, rooted to the spot, Poltergust in hand as the Boo continued his long-winded diatribe. Is that why he’s a ghost? Did Mario do something? Luigi tried not to think too hard about the ethical dilemmas of their adventures, of their roles as protectors of the Mushroom Kingdom. Sure, people got hurt, that was the nature of the beast, but…

It didn’t matter, not when King Boo conjured a several-story tall likeness of Bowser, whisking Luigi through a portal to the stark rooftop of the dilapidated mansion to engage in a twisted game of cat-and-mouse (ghost-and-plumber), the giant Koopa puppet doing its best to stomp Luigi into a fiery, broken heap of ashes.

He escaped with his life. That, and the promise of retribution from beyond the grave, King Boo spitting all forms of vile epithets and visions of eternal pain as Luigi sucked the last of his bulbous form into the squealing, smoking Poltergust. 

When Mario was spat from E. Gadd’s printing machine, tumbling across the floor in a confused pile of limbs - his brother, real, corporal and definitely not dead - Luigi didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. 

He never wanted to see - never wanted to think about another ghost again in his life.

Of Dogs (Luigi’s Mansion 2)

He supposed it made sense. In a way.

After all, if there were Boos, if there were ghost adults and ghost children and ghost babies - there were bound to be ghost dogs. Maybe ghost cats, as well. Hell, maybe an entire ghost civilization living (dying?) in tandem with his own flesh-and-blood world. 

He hated the idea. It trampled on every tenet of thermodynamics he had carved into his brain at the age of ten, made a mockery of the physics and chemistry and engineering that had carried him through adolescence and into adult life.

The Mushroom Kingdom - that was something he had at least managed to rationalize, had begun to construct a loose schematic for, notebooks upon notebooks filled with messy diagrams and rambling equations, an inadequate translation to his Earth-bound science, but one that allowed him to find some kind of solid footing in this incomprehensible new dimension.

Ghosts did not fit into his neatly constructed template. 

Least of all, ghost dogs.

Of course, the dog had to eat the key and run away, leading Luigi on a wild goose chase (he dearly hoped there was no such thing as ghost geese). He ran pellmell through gardens, through labs, through a series of mansions and other haun - 

Other decidedly creepy spots in the Evershade Valley. Places where he was left to battle groups of angry, globulous…shadows. Specters. Phantoms. Spirits. Poltergeists.

Ghosts. 

Again. 

He would have been angry if he weren’t so terrified. 

The dog, as much trouble as he was (He? She? Did it matter?) had at least not fallen under the spell of the Dark Moon, making him the Least Frightening Ghost of this particular run-in with the ethereal undead and King Boo.

And Luigi could almost get himself to…well…maybe not like him, but tolerate him. Even though the dog ate his keys, left messy trails of crumbs and soggy, half-eaten baguettes, slobbered all over Luigi’s pants, and managed at least once to urinate in a public fountain, a phenomenon Luigi would be puzzling over for months after the fact.

Best of all, the dog, unlike almost everyone else here, wasn’t bent on killing him. 

He was just a normal dog.

Who happened to be a ghost. 

Luigi wondered if he had had a family in life. Children to grow up with. A big house with a yard. He acted more like a puppy than an adult dog, his exuberant chaos reminiscent of the little Golden Retriever pup his second cousins had gotten when their family moved out to the Island. Oyster Bay, he remembers, real fancy stuff. Sal and Tony’s house had had trees. A garage. Separate bedrooms. He and Mario had begged for a dog for weeks after visiting, shuffling furniture around their tiny-windowed room, marking out places in purple chalk for the dog’s water bowl, his kibble, his toys.

Their father had grunted at the proposal, noting the two brothers would have to sleep in the same bed to make the space for their imaginary new pet. This ain’t no place for a dog, you two. You want animals, get a job with the pound. What, you’re still going to beg? Santa Maria. You two share that bed for a week without beating each other up and then come back to me. But I don’t like the odds. You boys haven’t shared a bed since you were seven. Five’ll get you ten you last forty-eight hours before someone’s fist is in the other one's face. 

They lasted three whole days before Luigi had planted his foot in Mario’s kidneys at two in the morning.

They never saw the dog in Oyster Bay again.

A car accident, real unfortunate stuff, Aunt Maria had told them later.

The memory haunted Luigi as he unholstered the Poltergust, forcing his fingers to twist dials and push at levers. He needed that key. It wasn’t just his life on the line if he failed. 

He squeezed his eyes shut as he sucked the ghost dog into the machine, trying his absolute best to ignore the little whines and terrified yips of the struggling not-animal. After what felt like an eternity, he heard the tell-tale “pop” of the Poltergust, signaling his success in capturing yet another ghost, the silver key clanging to the cobble-stoned ground.

Luigi had never felt less heroic in his life.

I just think he wanted someone to play with, E. Gadd had commented offhandedly later, emptying the Poltergust's canister into the gigantic silver ghost vault with his usual detached efficiency, oblivious to the way Luigi's features had paled at the comment.

When he got word of the dog’s escape a few hours later, Luigi didn’t even try to deny his relief.

Of Half-Lives and Vengeance (Luigi’s Mansion 3)

Fatigue. Carelessness. Hubris. Naivete. 

Or maybe it had just been sheer stupidity.

An invitation to vacation at an exclusive, luxury hotel, addressed to him. 

Nice things never happened to Luigi. Or if they did, he could hardly enjoy them, waiting on tenterhooks for the other boot to fall.

The boot fell that evening. It was ghosts. Of course, it was. Nearly twenty floors of ghosts. At this point, he could say he was almost used to it, the creeping shiver up his spine, the gluey residue of ectoplasm which would leave him tattooed with ugly, mottled rashes for weeks on end.

Once again, he had to act as a one-man army against the mass of spectral, malevolent will. Once again, his brother had been trapped in a painting.

There were differences, of course. Polterpup was by his side, the ethereal puppy proving more loyal to Luigi than his fellow spirits. (Luigi could never say Polterpup was "his" in the way most pet owners would lay claim to a regular cat or dog. The ghost puppy had a disturbing tendency to disappear for weeks, sometimes months on end, only to make his return in the most startling manner possible, more than once sending Luigi screaming, flailing off his bed at some weird, inconvenient hour of the night. But for as much as Polterpup could have a "home" - Luigi's house was it).

Luigi also had the help of his pseudo-clone, Gooigi, a horrifying creation of E. Gadd's, an unholy combination of ghostly discharge (the nature of which Luigi did not want to know), coffee, and, Luigi's own biological samples. An impossible being with whom he shared an inexplicable telepathic connection, and if Luigi had had any semblance of a minute to consider what that all meant (was he part ghost now? Could Gooigi outlive him? Would he maintain that consciousness after death?) he would have likely run screeching into the night.

(The fact Gooigi had proven essential to his continued existence did not distract from the wildly dubious ethics behind Gooigi's creation, an issue Luigi was definitely going to have a long talk with E. Gadd about at some point. If he could manage to broach the topic without falling into a breathless panic).

But the most striking aspect of his third encounter with King Boo and his minions, something that wriggled at the base of Luigi's cerebellum as he fought floor upon gimmicky floor the largest array of ghouls he encountered yet, was the element of premeditation.

King Boo had easily disposed of Mario, the Princess, and the Toads during their first midnight encounter. Sure, Luigi had escaped down a laundry chute, chest heaving as he toppled onto a pile of dirty towels. But that shouldn't have posed an issue for this crazed version of King Boo, a being who could literally phase through walls.

Luigi should have been dead, or worse than dead, ten times over.

No, King Boo had decided to wait. To draw out the deep, sustained hum of terror far beyond its final breath.

Security cameras were posted everywhere in the hotel. Luigi had no doubt the ghostly tyrant was following his every move, watching, salivating as he fought and struggled against Egyptian gods and malevolent Mozarts, and bearded, Bayou beasts. (Were these the literal souls of the departed? Was Mozart truly in these walls? Or was this like a ghost Halloween, a once-in-a-deathtime opportunity to fulfill that longing urge to finally be someone who you will never be?)

(He remembers being six years old. Remembers dressing as his brother for Halloween, Luigi stealing Mario's iconic red t-shirt, his parents pleading with him to go as anything else - a spider, a rat, a baseball player - Luigi refusing each entreaty. The other boys aren't going to like it, Luigi, his mother had said, consonants slurring. You're going to get the snot pounded out of you, Dad had added a beat later).

(In the end, he had thrown an old floral bedsheet over his head, not even bothering to cut out eyeholes. I'm a ghost! Luigi had boasted. You're a loser, Vinny Malanga had laughed).

And worst part of it was, Luigi knew it. Knew he could turn any corner, go down any dark hallway and be met with that signature violet gemstone, that bladed, fanged smile ready to slam an empty frame down on his head and trap him for all eternity in oil and canvas. 

Death waited in every shadow.

And King Boo was going to enjoy every minute of it.

Of Death (Epilogue)

Luigi thought he knew death. After three, separate encounters with buildings chock full of the undead, after countless hours spent in the company of the best paranormal researcher he knew (the only one he knew, admittedly), after providing part-time shelter for a genuine ghost puppy, after meeting his half-undead clone - Luigi considered himself, if not comfortable, at least conversant in the hows and whys of the afterlife. 

One day, he tried to stop a wedding between a princess and a monster.

Death, he would learn, was only the beginning.

[upismediacenter]

LITERARY: Not a Fairytale

I loved fairytales when I was little. I always dreamed of being swept away by a charming prince and living happily ever after. It’s funny how it was all I longed for, and yet our story seems like the exact opposite of one.

Our story was not a fairytale because there was no “love at first sight” moment when the world slowed down and all I could see was you. In fact, our meeting was so unremarkable that I don’t remember much of it. For the longest time, you were just one of those people at school; someone I knew from afar. My first significant memory of you was on some random lunch break in 9th grade. You were sitting behind me while I crammed a Math assignment. You must have seen me struggling for some time already. “You’re using the wrong formula, try it the other way,” you said, looking at my solution over my shoulder. I stared at it, confused about where I went wrong and why you, a person I’d barely spoken to, felt the need to point it out. You walked me through it, unprompted, and eventually, I understood. “Oh thanks. Wow, you’re actually good,” I said, maybe a little too surprised. Honestly, until then I assumed you were kind of–

“You thought I was stupid?” You asked flatly. “No! I didn’t say that!!” Even though I might have thought it. My whole face went hot as I tried to explain myself until I turned to look at you and saw you laughing. Gosh. What a stupid smile. It made your stupid face look stupidly boyish and cute.

Our story was not a fairytale because there was no damsel in distress. I wasn’t in the habit of owing other people so I looked for a way to pay you back. You said I could proofread your essay. That’s how I learned that you were better with numbers than with words. No biggie, that’s where I could help. You also didn’t accept favors; if I do something for you, you’d have to do something for me. You bought me a snack as a thank you. In return, I kept you company during free period. It was one favor after another and another.

Our story was not a fairytale because you certainly weren’t Prince Charming. You were actually quite the opposite. I was getting to know you more during this time. You were stubborn and always had to be right. You loved to tease and I was sensitive. We were entirely different, but it was good in some ways. I was a worrier, always thinking about things out of my control. You were laid-back, often bringing me back to reality. You grounded me. I was starting to realize that there was so much I didn’t know about you. You were smart but not loud about it. I thought we’d never be close, and truthfully it still doesn’t make sense that somehow we are.

Our story was not a fairytale because, unlike Cinderella who fell for her prince on that very first night, it took months for us to cross the line of friendship. Gradually, our friendly favors turned into something more. Before I knew it, you read my favorite books and I played your favorite games. You walked me home and I made you stay for dinner. You’d lend me your jacket and I’d let you sleep on my shoulder.

Our story was not a fairytale even during our happiest times. There were never any perfect moments, there was always some kind of a mess. Like when you told me you liked me and I almost choked on what I was eating. The magical moment was kind of ruined by my constant coughing and frantically looking for water. We did laugh about it after, and oh how, I love your laugh. Or on our first date, when the movie we wanted to watch was sold out so we went for a dragging foreign film instead. We got so bored that we ended up just making fun of it. Your smile that day is still etched into my memory. I liked these imperfect moments because, unlike the fairytales, they weren’t anything grand or unattainable. They were real. It’s these small moments I cherish the most.

Sometimes I do wish we were in a fairytale, though. I wish our story was a fairytale so it could end in happily ever after. Yesterday, you were in my room, sitting beside me while we did different things. I was working on my calculus assignment which you’d have to check, knowing me. You were writing your college application essay which I’d have to proofread, knowing you. I couldn’t bring myself to start my own essay because that would mean accepting that things are changing and they wouldn’t be the same next year.

It’s been two years since I’ve gotten used to seeing your smile and hearing about your day. What happens when we don’t see each other as often anymore? What happens when we make new friends and build new lives? What if your new life won’t have room for me anymore? What if the four walls of our high school building were the only thing keeping us together? I ruminated over these as the deadlines to applications draw closer and closer.

“Do you wanna take a break?” You said, making my heart drop. What? So soon? “From your homework. You look tired,” Oh. Thank God. “Yes please,” I said, exhaling deeply as I scooted closer to you. You stopped writing and we talked about everything and nothing at all. How your day went, the new album you were listening to. You talked about how you wanted to go to a music festival, but the tickets were already sold out. You said we should go next year instead.

Next year. You said it as casually as breathing. Not even a doubt in your mind about next year. You didn’t know I was worrying about an unpredictable future and yet you somehow managed to pull me back. Here, to the present. Right now, I am with someone who is making plans with me a year from now. The future is something I still can’t bring myself to imagine, but it’s enough to know that you could see me in it. Even if it’s a future as small as 365 days.

“Why are you smiling?” You ask, bringing me back to our conversation. Because of you, my comfort and safety. The one who holds my hand in the dark. The one person who’s sure of me. “Nothing. You’re right, we should go next year.”

Our story is not a fairytale, because our happy ending isn’t guaranteed. But being with you in that moment made me realize that maybe for now, I don’t need to be certain about everything. Our happily ever after is today, here, right now, and that’s all that matters.

[itssleepyrabbit]

hi! wow i super love your art and i don’t have enough dabihawks in my life 🥺 was wondering if you had any fic recs for them?? 💕💕

aah thank you so much!! 💕💕 💕💕

BOY IF I DO HAVE!! alright buckle up this might get long (most are fluff and SFW~ i’ll put a NSFW warning but be sure to look at tags in all of them!!)

Bed I made (lie in it with me) by  silverwordswrites

“Touya is in desperate need of a plus-one for his brother's wedding and Keigo is infinitely curious about the man who he was sure used to hate him in college.” 

-- the summary says everything and honestly it’s one of the most romatics dabihawks fics i’ve read.

On-going

He Doesn't Love Me by  Fatally

“Dabi doesn't love him. He's accepted that thorny truth, swallowed it down and let briars grow in his chest, drinking down his blood like water.Or: The one in which Hawks settles for pining for his entire life and doesn't realize Dabi's been staring at him the entire time, too.” 

-- I love pinning Hawks with a burning passion.

Completed

sweetheart, is that you? by  fuckendeavor666

“dabi and hawks say i love you (without actually saying i love you) in five different ways.“ 

-- This is my absolute fave dabihawks fic

Completed

Deck the Halls With Boughs of Folly by  DrAphra

“In which the League has acquired a new fancy mansion -with all the heating and food and plush beds they could possibly need - but they still prefer to spend the day out in the wilderness with just each other. Plus Hawks.“ 

-- Honestly all Aphra’s dabihawks fics are more than worth it but this one has a special place on my heart.

Completed

fuck, im so young - orphaned

“Todoroki Touya writes poems.

Words upon words of heartfelt confessions, letters of sing song fantasies, syllables of feelings he never got to say out loud.

When Todoroki Touya hits sixteen, he burns himself to death.

When Dabi hits twenty four-

He meets Hawks.” 

-- i don’t know how to explain but this fic it’s pretty

Completed

Feathers and Feelings by  Toboe1087

“Hawks keeps leaving feathers on his pillow, and Dabi's about had it.

(like hell he'd let anyone else have them, though)”

-- Dabi preening Hawks feathers is a blessing

Complete

(this is not a) swan song by  bittermoons

“"Who's your favorite, then?"

"Hawks." Touya doesn't miss a beat. "Definitely Hawks."

"What? Seriously? How come?"

"He has his flaws, but at the end of the day, he's trying to do good. It's something he always strives for. Dabi, on the other hand...if it weren't for Hawks, he wouldn't be a hero, that's for sure."

[Or: How a secret is revealed, and what comes afterwards.]”

-- Adorable no quirks AU with manga artist Touya and oblivious Keigo! Another author i adore pretty much all dabihawks works.

Completed

You can't trap the sky in a bottle by thyandra

“Letting Toga organize the accommodations for their trip might have been a mistake. This particular truth becomes obvious to Keigo as he opens the door of his hotel room for the first time. There, staring back at him mockingly, is a single, king-sized bed. It’s only by virtue of all the years spent perfecting his poker face around his adoptive parents, that he manages to keep his face straight. At his side, Touya clicks his tongue. “They must’ve given us the wrong key.””

--(no quirks AU) I really love they way Dabi and Hawks are written here i can’t express it in words and so so much pinning

Completed

A Tale as Old as Time by  EloFromMars, Gotcocomilk

“Dabi and Hawks are hit by the most improbable Quirk: both are yeeted in Fairytales land and have to rely on each other to get out of this.“

-- this was such a fun read omg

Completed

A Romance Written All Over Your Body by  minatsukinoamayo

//NSFW mind the tags!//

“Hawks is assigned to infiltrate the League of Villains in order to expose them. Hawks usually never fails a mission, but Keigo usually never falls in love, either.A story of how Hawks falls from grace to become a villain, because hero society has failed them all.

OR

5 times they're not in a relationship and 1 time they are.“

-- you know those fics you say “one more chapter” and it’s 3AM

Completed

it caught spark in your eyes by  youareoldfatherwilliam

//Mature - Implied Sexual Content//

“Keigo’s quirk is powerful, but sometimes it comes with unintended side effects.

Or: A 5 + 1 fic of five times the more…instinctively bird-like parts of Keigo’s quirk took over accidentally during his relationship with Dabi, and one time it happened entirely on purpose.“

-- I was screaming about this particular fic on twt the other day pls give it a read if you can it’s so so so good! Any fic that has Hawks with bird traits has a special place on my heart

Completed

The Others by  threesipsmore

//Mature - 2 sexual scenes, nothing too explicit but they’re there//

“"Skeptic's starting to think he’s more important than me,” Toga sneers, an acidic edge to her voice. “Making decisions on his own, sending out birdie without even talking to me first.”

She’d simply acquiesced to cooperating with Skeptic, but from day one the complaints had never stopped. In this tiny room layered with sushi and cakes, Dabi was forced to listen to her whining.”

-- You go birb, you get that man

Completed

Equivalent Exchange by  inexchangeforyoursoul

“Keigo blinks the blurry oblivion away from his eyes, although some part of it is oddly stubborn and to stay indefinitely. There's three things he's certain of: first, he’s alive. Second, just by looking at the bed and windows he can tell this is no villain hospital or torture room. Third: something feels wrong. Very wrong.

The silence… is deafening.

xxx

To obtain, something of equal value must be lost.

If so, what of a bird that has lost its wings?”

-- i had so many feelings reading i can’t physically explain them to you also PINK HAIR DABI PINK HAIR DABI

Completed

dabi's 5-step guide to being a better parent than endeavor by  twinkfrankenstein (orphan_account)

“A little voice inside his head whispered spitefully about how this was no place for a child, and how he was making a mistake and would only traumatize the kid, yada yada. He responded with an equally spiteful-

“Fuck off, its not like I planned to do arson today.”

(or: how Dabi becomes a good dad just to spite his own, realizes he kinda sorta maybe likes Hawks for realsies, begrudgingly admits the League cares and finally comes to terms with his protective side. Not in that order.)“

-- this legit made me laught out loud idk what else tell you

Completed

The Todoroki In-Laws by  aphrodaisyacs

“Over 10 years after the fight against the Paranormal Liberation Front, Rumi, aka the part-time hero Miruko and the proud wife of one Todoroki Fuyumi, decides it would be an awesome idea to create a groupchat with the significant others of the other Todoroki siblings.

Maybe things would be easier if its members weren’t two Pro Heroes, a former one and a rehabilitated villain, but…Honestly, where’s the fun in that?”

-- this is not dabihawks focused but it’s so funny pls

Completed

With Being Petty Comes Consequences by  CursedUndead

“"When we were saying fuck pro heroes, I didn't think you literally meant FUCK them," Tomura grumbles, kicking over an empty beer can.

"Pretty judgmental for someone fucking a pro twice their age," Touya says.

Tomura squints, and says, "Ten years is not twice my age."

Or, after spending Enji's money, Touya is forced to babysit for the number 2 hero to pay him back. Touya makes it his life's mission to fuck his new boss.”

-- this only has 4 chapters but i know it’s going to be one of my faves

On-going

The Truth series by  AmethystUnarmed

-- Hawks gets hit with a truth quirk and starts to be actually free by the power of love, friendship and a bit of crime <3

The last entry is on-going

and if we sit and count it up it's really not a lot by  sincerelysamedt

“Hawks finds a bento box in his messenger bag and almost cries.

"Is that a loving wife bento?"“

-- please PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD READ THIS ONE /sobbing noises/

Completed

steal your heart by  darlingest

//Mature//

“When infamous thief Hawks announces that he is going to steal the heart of Endeavor's son, everyone expects him to prey on Shoto Todoroki - nobody suspects Touya to be the actual target.“

-- Villain Hawks and civilian Dabi are my guilty pleasure and this one it’s so soft too i’m- djsahfdjkfhadf

Completed

darling, thank god it’s this universe we’re in (and you can annoy me as much as you please) by  juurensha

“ Todoroki Rei divorces Endeavor and moves all four of her children into a small apartment next to a boy with wings as red as the hair of her eldest son. “

-- This was one of the first dabihawks fics i ever read and, to this day, i come back to it when i feel i need the extra burst in happy feelings and check their other works too! Honestly all are such a good fucking read

Completed

[tomtenadia]

My warrior queen

Rowaelin month day 7 - Fairytale AU

So, this is a bit a strange fairytale. I am not a fan of Disney style princesses so I went for something different. I wasn’t even going to write this prompt but then inspiration hit and honestly I had to rein it in because otherwise this was going to be a 10k words one shot.

To be honest I am not even sure if it follows the prompt but here you go...

I hope you will enjoy it.

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

In the northern part of Erilea there stood a land of unforgiving winters and majestic mountains. The place was called Terrasen and it was ruled by a queen. Her name was Aelin Ashryver Galathynius. It was rumoured that she was the most stunning woman in the whole continent and that she had a long line of suitors trying to win her hand. So far, no man had ever accomplished the task. No one seemed to be a match enough for the fiery woman. She had standards, very high apparently and rumour had it that she rejected many potential rich men from other kingdoms as soon as they mentioned they would cover her in gold, lavish dresses and fine jewellery.

She liked her luxury, fine dresses and jewellery, but she if she had to settle down she would not to do that with a man who would treat her like a prize to show around at parties.

No, she was looking for a man who treated her as an equal, and was not scared of a woman who could defend herself and have a high skilled competence with knives, swords and bows.

Far too many men had been horrified by her past times.

Tough. She was not going to give that up, because they thought it was very un-lady like. Screw it. She was the queen. 

It was a balmy afternoon and she was in the training yard with her sword master Brullo, practicing her sword skills, when Ress, one of her guards interrupted them. At his side stood a tall man with silver hair and clothed in a dark green cloak. The stranger was broad-shouldered and incredibly tall. Definitely close to 2m. His eyes were a beautiful pine green and the man emanated a certain air of danger. She could tell he was a born and bred warrior and that sparring with him might be quite amazing if he accepted. A rival with a challenge. Brullo was skilled but she had a feeling he was not pushing her as much he could just because she was the queen. Truth was, she wanted to be pushed to the limit. Wanted a sparring partner who ignored her title and just treated her as an equal warrior.

“Your majesty,” said Ress, kneeling in front of her “I present you with your new captain of the guard.”

Aelin sheathed her sword at her side and took a step closer, circling around the new arrived and taking stock of his frame. 

“What’s your name, captain?”

“Rowan Whitethorn, ma’am.”

A gasp surged from both Brullo and Ress for the lack of use of her title, but Aelin smirked, loving that already. Maybe he was the one.

“Ress told me you come highly recommended.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“She is your queen,” shouted Brullo from behind her “show some respect, you oaf.”

Aelin turned and glared at her master at arms.

“Brullo, Ress, leave me alone with the captain.” Not a request but an order.

“Yes, your majesty.” They both bowed and walked away.

Aelin grinned then once they were gone sat on the edge of the fence and grabbed the knife she kept on her thigh and started peeling her apple “you must excuse them. Brullo might kill in the name of lèse-majesté.” She explained, taking a bite of her fruit, “I would just recommend you to use my title in public. When we are alone and in training you can call me ma’am or Aelin.” She stared at him and saw surprise in his stark features “in training? I am your captain of the guard, ma’am.”

She got off the fence and walked to him, flipping the knife in her hands and Rowan approved of her skills. Maybe that assignment would not suck as he feared. It looked like he did not have to guard a weak queen who mostly used him as an errand boy, but one that appeared fierce and capable of handling a sword probably just as much as him.

“I know, captain, but I am looking for a sparring partner who would actually present a challenge. One who is not afraid of inflicting a few bruises to his queen. Brullo is good but he holds back a bit too much for my tastes.” She looked up at him, meeting his green eyes. Gods, the man was stunning as well.

“As long as you promise not to put me in irons if I scratch your esteemed highness.” His eyes glinted with mirth and she laughed hard.

She walked away and then turned and threw her knife at him.

Rowan grabbed it with a very easy gesture.

Gods, he was all of a sudden drawn to her. She threw a knife at him and his male nature found the gesture a turn on. He could not deny that the queen in front of him was stunning, probably the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

“Good reflexes,” then she threw the apple, Rowan grabbed it and took a bite, never averting his gaze.

“Meet me here tomorrow at nine, captain.” And she walked away swaying her hips on purpose.

Rowan looked at her walk away and thought that his new assignment was not bad after all.

Back in her quarters, Aelin shed her boots and started removing all the weapons stashed on her body.

“Do you really need all that metal on you?” Asked a voice at her back. Aelin turned and saw Lysandra, her lady in waiting.

“You never know who is ready to attack you on the streets, I need to be ready to defend myself.”

And threw a few knives on the bed.

“Maybe if you actually stopped wandering around Orynth on you own and used your guards? They are here to protect you, you know? That’s why you pay them.”

Aelin shedded her fighting leathers and remained in her undergarments while Lysandra held out one of those horrible gowns she hated so much.

“And where’s the fun in that?”

“You are the Queen.”

Aelin rolled her eyes. She loved Lysandra like a sister but the woman was a proper lady and had been trying for years to teach Aelin to be less wild and more approachable to men. As the queen it was expected of her to marry and then sire heirs to the throne. She had no patience for all that crap.

“Rumour has it that your new captain of the guard is quite hot.” Lysandra tied the corset and Aelin whimpered at the damn cage “Elide has seen him with Ress.”

“Hopefully he is not scared of sparring with me like a true warrior.”

Lysandra was about to reply but Aelin lifted a finger “I don’t care.” And walked away. Ready spend another afternoon in a tedious council meeting.

*

The next morning she almost ran to the training grounds. Once at the site she noticed Rowan was already there, sitting on the ground and sharpening his sword. He had trousers tucked in his high boots and a white shirt with the first three buttons open. The sleeves were rolled to the elbows and a stunning tattoo in the old language swirled around his left arm and she could notice a hint of it on his chest as well, from the opening in his shirt. She stood in silence staring at his powerful arms running the wet stone on the length of the sword and her treacherous mind pictured those powerful hands on her body.

She cleared her voice and saw Rowan raised his head “Good, you are here.” In a powerful move he stood.

“So, captain. Where do we start this morning?”

“We’ll do some conditioning to strengthen your muscles a bit, then we can choose sword or knives. The choice is yours.”

In private he did as she had told him and didn’t use any title and she was grateful for that. 

“I’ll take the sword.”

For the first hour he put her through a gruelling series of exercises that, according to him, would reinforce the muscles in her arms, her core and her legs. She was not a frail lady. After years of training she had build her body to be quite toned and alethic but apparently she could do a bit better.

“Good, take a break.” He sat at her side and she drank from her canteen.

“So, how did you end up here in Terrasen?”

He looked at her quizzically.

“Your accent. You are definitely not from here. Wendlyn, perhaps?”

Rowan nodded “Born and bred in Doranelle.”

“I visited a few times. Very hot place.” She looked at him “why Terrasen?”

He was silent for a moment as if to ponder his answer “I needed a change of scenery. I have been here a few years already. Mostly worked as a hired guard for some rich lords. Then I saw that the palace was looking for a new captain of the guard and here I am.”

Aelin knew there was more to the story, but she didn’t push.

“Let’s go, captain.” She said standing up again “show me how to fight like a real warrior.”

And Rowan did not hold back. For over an hour they trained relentlessly and Aelin was now sporting some cuts on her arms, a bruise and a limp from when she slipped on the ground after Rowan disarmed her for the umpteenth time. She realised at the end of the session that she was not even remotely skilled as she thought.

“We better stop here for today.”

“No,” she grunted, still sitting on the cold ground exhausted.

“Aelin,” and the way he said her name made her heart race “You need to rest for the day and have a healer see to those cuts.”

“Thank you for not holding back, for not treating me as if I was made of glass.” 

Rowan placed his hand on her shoulder to steady her as she tried to stand, when a jolt went through both at the contact.

Their heads snapped up in surprise and their gaze met.

Aelin’s heart started to race madly. What had just happened? Was that the bond? She heard about that. All the girls dreamed of eventually find their mate, to look a man in the eye and feel the bond snap into place. She thought it was just a kids fairytale but as she looked at Rowan’s expression she knew he was thinking about the same thing.

They were mates.

He was her mate and she was his.

*

As she limped back to her quarters she could not stop thinking about what had happened with Rowan. How was that possible? And how was she going to solve that? According to the stories, once the bond was in place it was difficult to resist and painful to ignore, but what if Rowan didn’t want to be her mate? He’d be tied to a queen, making him king consort. It was far too much to force on someone. It was in moment like this in which she wished her mum was still alive. She’d need her support right now.

“Your majesty, what happened to you?” Said a horrified voice at her back. She turned and saw Chaol, one of her guards.

“Oh, I had an amazing training session with the captan.”

She saw disgust in his face “did he hurt you?”

Aelin rolled her eyes “No, well technically yes, but we were training so it’s okay.”

“You are the queen. He cannot treat you like that.”

Aelin was fuming when a familiar figure joined them in the courtyard.

Chaol drew his sword, pointing it at Rowan’s throat and Aelin felt a surge of rage in her “Put the sword down.” She commanded.

“Majesty, he hurt you.”

“It’s called training,” said Rowan, moving Chaol’s sword aside in a bored gesture. His eyes on hers, ignoring the man in front of him.

“She is your queen.”

“She gave me an order. I followed it. If she wants to punish me for hurting her during training I will take anything she will inflict upon me. Until that moment I would order you, as your captain, to go back to you patrol, or I’ll have you scrub the stables.”

Chaol stormed away back to his post and Rowan and Aelin remained alone.

“Rowan, we should talk—” he shook his head.

“Not here.”

Aelin nodded “let’s go to my library. No one is allowed in there. We will have privacy.”

He followed her and once in the room she locked the door for good measure and then collapsed on the sofa exhausted.

Rowan looked around the room and stared amazed and the astounding collection of books. The bookcases where floor to ceiling high and there must have been thousands of books.

“The perks of being the queen. I have unlimited funds to gave in in my obsession for books.” Then he turned and saw a piano against the window “do you play?”

Aelin nodded and he moved a step back in her direction “Rowan…”

“We are mates.” He said in a gentle tone that disarmed her.

“You don’t have to…” she had no idea how to tackle the issue “Rowan, I will not force you into something you don’t want.” She sighed “I thought it was just a fairytale mothers spun to their daughters before bed. But I felt it. The power of the bond, curse through me when you touched me.” She stood and took a step to him “and when Chaol had his sword at your throat I was ready to rip his head off if he touched you.”

“Aelin, it’s up to you, I am your subject and if you decide to follow the bond I will not reject you.”

She looked at him and for an instant she had a glimpse of another Rowan, one that under the warrior face was in fact a loving and caring man. Her heart ached. She could not force something on him that he didn’t want.

Rowan went on his knees in front of her and bowed his head “If I accept the bond I will be your king consort.” He looked up at her “I am just a warrior, with no power or gold to offer or alliances. Accepting me would be a very bad move for a queen. I have nothing to offer you.”

Aelin kneeled in front of him and took his face in her hands “For the first time, I found a man who is willing to fight me like a warrior. A man who treats me like an equal, something I have been searching for a very long time. A man who is not afraid of me or who does not feel the need to tame my wild side. You are that man, Rowan.” She caressed the stark lines of his face, the gesture feeling natural all of a sudden “It’s your decision. Not a command from a queen.”

“It would be political suicide.”

She laughed “you let me deal with the council and the politicians. It’s my life. And I think my citizens might like the idea that I choose one of them as their king.”

Rowan nodded.

“This is new, for both of us. We barely know each other, but if you want I would like to get to know you better.”

“It’d be my honour, my queen.”

She smiled at him “but we are not stopping my training. I am not giving up on that. You keep your territorial male nonsense at bay.”

He nodded and Aelin kissed his forehead “thank you, captain.”

**

Two weeks had passed and Aelin had continued her life as normal. Rowan had been true to his words and kept training with her and she realised that under his supervision her skills were improving, to the point that once she had even managed to disarm him. She had celebrated by jumping into his arms for a hug. One that he did not deny her.

They had also started to spend time alone in the library and learn about each other. He had told her the real reason why he moved. A raid had attacked Doranelle, setting the city on fire. He was not quick enough and his family died in the huge fire and some of his friends too. So he had decided to help for a while, but as soon as the worst was over he had left Doranelle.

Aelin had heard about the raid. She had contacted the royal family there and offered her help, but they had been proud and replied with a no thank you.

Slowly they had also been getting closer, feeling the bond between them getting stronger with each passing day. And with it its side effects.

Aelin one day had almost put a woman called Remelle in irons when she saw her flirting with Rowan while he was guarding the throne room. He had ignored her but Aelin had felt jealousy spread like a wildfire. Through the bond she felt the same from him during a meeting in the throne room. As captain of the guard he was at her side on the throne and he had to suffer through a parade of men walking to Aelin and promising her riches beyond imagination and power.

You’d better look interested he had mused through the bond. A nifty trick that had appeared very recently.

I am disappointed that no one so far had offered me a unicorn

Aelin threw a sneaky glance at Rowan and saw him fighting the smirk threatening to appear on his face.

She tried not to smile either, it was not polite.

They hadn’t told anything to anyone about them being mates. It was all still too new and they needed time to adjust, so she had to suffer the tedious courtship from men who were as interesting as a bowl of broth with no salt. But they had decided to tell soon. The solstice ball was almost upon them and she was going to announce that she had found her mate and that all other men could just fuck off for all she cared. Her council was going to kill her, but she couldn’t care less. Rowan was her mate and even if they hadn’t even kissed or been intimate, she could not deny how strong the pull between them was becoming. Even being away from him was getting hard.

While she left the throne room, Rowan stepped at her side, taking his place as he usually did. Two more guards were trailing behind them at a distance.

“Are you getting me my unicorn, captain?”

“I’d do everything in my power to make you happy, but I think they really are a legend.”

“Everything?” She looked at him with a wicked grin “well, I need more training, captain. And it’s an order.”

She said the last sentence out loud and Chaol looked at them in disappointment. Her guards and maids had not appreciated the marks that training left on her. Lysandra complaining that a lady should not turn up for court with a bandaged arm and a limp.

Aelin ignored the protests relentlessly.

During training Rowan never gave her special treatment. Not even now that they were mates and she respected him so much for that. 

They had been training with knives and close contact when she did manage to win an encounter and Rowan lost his balance and they both tumbled on the ground. Aelin on top of him. Her face had smashed on his chest and she inhaled sharply his scent of pine and snow. Rowan smelled like home, like Terrasen. She looked up at him and his expression was curious. That was the closest they had ever been. Rowan had been a proper gentleman and always been respectful of her, especially when alone in the library.

But now… now she wanted him to grab her in his arms, rip off her clothes and make her forget her name.

Some of her thoughts must have trickled through the bond because his stare grew lustful. Her eyes landed on his lips and a moment later he was kissing her. And rutting gods, she almost combusted on the spot. The kiss was not gentle, she could taste the desire in him. Aelin’s hand were in his hair and pulled him closer and felt his arms tighten around her back.

Rowan had tried to be respectful and not to give in to the instinct that had slowly been taking over him recently. With the passing of days the bond between them had become much stronger and he found himself needing her. To wake up in the middle her smelling lemon verbena and feeling an insane need for her. He knew that was the downside of a new mating bond. It would drive him insane until he could finally claim her. But he would not rush her.

He was still of the opinion that he was her worst choice, he had tried again to convince her that choosing him was a political mistake. That as queen she should think about alliances. But Aelin had always refused to listen, saying that she was not going to marry a stranger just for the sake of an alliance. She was not a romantic and kept repeating her that they were mates and the council could not stop that. She had told him of her plan of announcing their bind at the solstice ball. The idea scared him but he would follow her. 

***

Solstice was upon them and the castle was buzzing for the celebrations. The guests had started to arrive and to gather in the ballroom.

Rowan was posted outside Aelin’s quarters, ready to escort her to the ballroom.

Two weeks had gone by since they kissed on the training grounds and since then they had been barely able to keep their hands off each other when they were alone.

Rowan would go as far as to admit that feelings had started to develop for her. Deep, strong feelings.

“So, who is going to be at your arm tonight at the ball?” Asked Lysandra while dressing Aelin. She had chosen a deep green gown with laces in silver to match Terrasen colours. Her hair was tied in a braid that was then tied in a complicated fashion on her head. And on top of it her tiara. She was not going to a ball with her crown. At her neck Lysandra had clasped a necklace with a pendant a kingsflame. Her mother had left that for her and Aelin would wear it on special occasions.

“It’s a surprise,” replied Aelin with a wicked grin. She had managed to convince Rowan to agree to dance with her.

“Oh, is it one of the lords?”

“Are you going with Aedion?” She changed the topic.

“Yes, as soon as you are ready I will join him. If you are okay.”

Aelin turned and hugged her friend “of course. I want you to enjoy the evening and if you end up spending the night in Aedion’s quarters I will not complain.”

Lysandra blushed “you are ready.”

Aelin stared at her image in the mirror and was looking forward to Rowan’s reaction. 

Rowan heard the door open and jumped to attention, then saw Aelin step away from the big doors and he was sure his heart stopped for a moment. Her gown matched his uniform in shade of green. She was stunning, she was the most perfect creature he had ever set eyes on.

Stop staring, captain. We need to maintain the ruse a bit longer.

Rowan looked at her and nodded briefly “shall we go, my queen? Your court awaits you.”

While they walked she could see Rowan scanning the area “relax, captain.”

“Aelin, my job is to keep you safe. Both as your mate and your captain. And might I say that your idea of inviting the citizens to the festivities is a dangerous one?”

Aelin sighed. He had raised his concerns every single day since she had explained to him the tradition. On the solstice the castle had always been open to everyone. The ground would host a fair with vendor and some stalls. The ballroom and the banquet hall were the only two room open to everyone. She had explained that her father had started the tradition and that the solstice was a big thing in Terrasen and she had continued such celebrations as a legacy to the late king.

Rowan had yielded but she could feel he was nervous.

“Have you given your guards rotations so they can enjoy the festivities as well?”

He nodded “and I told the vendor selling alcohol that they are not allowed to sell it to any of the guards. If they do I’ll take their licence.”

At the door of the ballroom he saw Chaol and Ress and Rowan nodded to them and the two men opened the doors.

The ballroom was incredible. Metres and metres of fairy light adorned the walls instead of the big candelabra. Snowflake shaped decorations hung from the ceiling and spruce and holly adorned the big windows.

Aelin stepped inside and everyone pulled aside and bowed. In the crowd she spotted aristocracy and citizens alike.

Once in the centre of the ballroom she turned and Rowan stepped at her side. Hands behind his back and back straight. 

He was nervous. His life was about to change but as he looked at her smiling at her people, he realised that if his life had her in it, maybe it wasn’t going to be so scary after all.

Aelin stared at all the people gathered around her and tried so hard not to stare too hard at Rowan. He had his uniform of captain of the guard, the one reserved for special occasions. The deep green of the fabric matching his eyes and the silver of the trimmings at the hem accompanied his hair. He was stunning.

No improper thoughts, my queen.” He told her, sensing where her mind had wandered.

As if you restrained yours a few minutes ago when you saw me. I must admit that the sparring room surrounded by weapons is a massive turn on.

Rowan cleared his voice at her side and she tried not to laugh.

“Good evening dear citizens of Terrasen and thank you for joining us tonight for this solstice celebrations. Like every year we follow the tradition started by my father and gather all together here and have fun. This year, however I have a special announcement that I hope will make this day a bit more special.” She then spoke and noticed her council member look at her with a puzzled expression. Lysandra was holding Aedion’s hand and looked curious. Her cousin was downright terrified.

I am at your side was all that Rowan said through the bond.

“I want to use this night of festivities to announce that I have found my mate.” A chorus of gasps echoed in the room.

Aelin took Rowan’s hand and pulled him closer to her side “Captain Rowan Whitethorn is my mate. We have accepted the bond a few days ago.”

They had discussed the whole thing in the library. Both had confessed that feeling were starting to appear. The attraction was definitely there and Aelin had confessed that the idea of not having him at her side pained her. Rowan had made the same admission. She then had explained to him that if he was going to accept the bond he’d become king consort and he’d have to drop his job as captain of the guard. Rowan had accepted with the condition that she would keep on training with him. Aelin had, of course, accepted. And after that they had officially accepted the bond and that night he had claimed her and she claimed him, body and soul. They were now one and there was nothing separating them.

“My queen,” said Darrow, the head of her council, bowing to her “you should have consulted the council before making such an important decision. Also, may I suggest that the captain might not be the most suitable candidate?”

Aelin was raging, but as queen she had learned to restrain her wild side. In public, at least.

“Darrow, thank you for your concern but this is my life. Who I choose as my king consort it’s not your concern. I told you all before, I will not be sold in marriage for the sake of an alliance. Rowan is my mate. You cannot ignore the bond.” Aelin looked at Lysandra and saw that the woman was sobbing happily.

Then cheers erupted from the crowd, the common citizens, the ones who approved their queen choosing one of them.

“All hail the queen,” shouted one of them “all hail the king,” chanted another one and slowly everyone joined in, Lys and Aedion included. Her councilmen were the only ones who stood silent. Oh well, that was a battle for another day.

Rowan went to his knee and took her hands, bowing his head at the same time “my queen, I have no riches, no power, no land to offer you. All I can give you is my loyalty and my love. Until my last day. To whatever end.” He recited out loud for everyone to hear.

Aelin squeezed his hand and pulled him up. They were equals, something she had told him over and over again. She would not allow him to bow to her or to feel diminished. He was her world. 

“To whatever end .” She whispered back while holding his face and kissing him deeply in front of everyone.

Her buzzard.

Her equal.

Her friend.

Her mate.

[dramioneasks]

HP FESTS: Dramione RomCom Fest (Part 1)

Dramione RomCom Fest 2020:

12 Years and 3 Months by pixiedustandbluebutterflies - T, one-shot - As news of their engagement takes Wizarding England by storm, elusive power couple Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger are finally sharing their love story in this Witch Weekly interview!

50 (First) Dates with Hermione Granger by HufflepuffMommy - G, WIP - Draco Malfoy sets his heart on romancing Hermione Granger, but she has short-term memory loss; she can't remember anything that happened the day before. So every morning, Draco has to woo her again. Her friends are very protective, and Draco must convince them that he's in it for love. Plot (andsummary) taken from the movie "50 First Dates" for the Dramione RomCom fest!

About Time by WordsmithMusings - E, WIP - When Draco's Father reveals to him that the men in their family have the ability to travel back in time, he uses his newfound gift to do many things - save a life, be a better friend, reconnect with a witch, and fall in love.

All's well that ends well (to end up with you) by weestarmeggie - M, one-shot - Hermione Granger is all set to be the maid of honor at her best friends wedding. She is taken back when she finds out that the best man is none other than her ex-fiance.

Away by In_Dreams - E, WIP - Desperate for a change of pace, Hermione unknowingly commits to a home exchange with Pansy Parkinson and finds herself swept up in the chaos of New York City and into the arms of Draco Malfoy. Dramione/Hansy. Loosely inspired by The Holiday.

Bells on a Hill by HeyJude19 - T, WIP - Left by his fiancée a month before the ceremony, Draco never got his dream wedding, so agreeing to assist Granger with her own wedding planning to distract himself from his broken engagement seems like a great idea—though Draco probably shouldn't fall in love with the bride-to-be. Based very (very) loosely on The Wedding Singer.

Chasing the Future by Rdlentz8 - T, WIP - An unusual and anonymous Patronus finds a frustrated Hermione alone in the library and talks to her about being lonely. Could this be the push she's needed to change her fate? Inspired by A Cinderella Story. There are direct quotes from A Cinderella Story.

Domino Effect by KoraKwidditch - M, WIP - Resolved to live her life in Muggle London, Hermione Granger finally felt free. Free from the Ministry, free from her celebrity status and everything that entailed. But who knew that one cataclysmal incident would lead her straight into the Malfoy's den and down a series of unfortunate events? At least they think she's a Muggle.**A Dramione retelling of While You Were Sleeping**

Fairytales and Wishes by Charlie9646 - T, one-shot - All Scorpius wants is for Hermione to be a nice step mother, but somehow that sort of gets lost in translation with his accidental magic.

Flipping Through the Pages by DarkAngelOfSorrowReturns - T, WIP - Draco Malfoy had a fascination with a popular book series and its writer. His life changes when he meets her.

The Hate List by bethelson - T, WIP - While chaperoning the post graduation trip, Hermione and Draco find themselves wandering the streets of Paris in the middle of the night, fruitlessly searching for the seventh years they were supposed to be in charge of. What Hermione doesn’t know, is that those seventh years struck a bargain with Draco to keep her occupied so they could sneak out for a last hurrah before they all head back to London. So in his efforts to derail her search, he convinces her to join him in their own night of frivolity. As they paint the city red, they slowly learn to let their guards down, and find that putting the past behind them allows them to finally focus on the present. ___ My contribution to the Dramione RomCom Fest!

Hollywood & Vine by dreamsofdramione (Bugggghead), msmerlin - M, WIP - As the manager of an occult bookstore currently renting a room from an old friend and living paycheck to paycheck, Hermione wasn’t exactly living the Hollywood dream. But her life is turned upside down when a chance encounter with Tinseltown’s current heartthrob, Draco Malfoy, leaves her questioning everything she thought she knew about life and love. or the one in which Hermione unintentionally falls in love with a movie star.

Home is Where the Heart Is by lrs002 - T, one-shot - A rewrite and Draco/Hermione look at basically the last scenes of the movie Sweet Home AlabamaOr in the other words: The Wedding and the Kiss

How to Lose a Wizard in 10 Days by GracefulLioness - E, WIP - Hermione will do anything to prove to her boss at Witch Weekly that she's ready to take on more serious topics, including dating a man just to drive him away for the sake of her next column, How to Lose a Wizard in 10 Days. But pushing Draco Malfoy away proves to be a challenging task, perhaps because he's got ten days to make her fall in love with him. Inspired by How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days.

It Happened One Knight by Klawdee - T, WIP - “A spoiled heir running away from his family is helped by an old classmate, who is actually a journalist in need of a story.” Based off of the 1934 film, It Happened One Night

It's All In The Malfoy Family by TwilightToMidnight - M, one-shot - Over a decade of longing and desire comes to fruition one night. Not quite the way Hermione expected but definitely with a bang. Everyone and their dog seem to be working against her. For the 2020 Dramione RomCom Fest. Loosely based off Sabrina (1954 - with Audrey Hepburn).

Love, Actually in Dramione by Blessedindeed - G, one-shot - I absolutely love the movie "Love, Actually" and was so excited to make some art pieces from a few of the more memorable scenes! Many thanks and kudos to QuinTalon & NuclearNik for hosting and being such amazing encouragers to everyone! I cannot wait to dive into all these fun pieces!!

Love, Hermione by pandora_rose_xo - G, WIP - When Hermione leaves some personal letters lying around in a sleepy haze, Dobby comes across them, and trying to be helpful delivers them to their recipients. Who were never supposed to see them.

Metamorphosis by persephone_stone - T, WIP - Draco Malfoy is king of Hogwarts High—student body president, captain of both the water polo and basketball teams, and boyfriend of Astoria Greengrass, the hottest girl in school. That is, until said girlfriend returns from Spring Break with some unexpected news: she’s dumping him for a college boy. Now, Draco is on a mission to win her back. And who better to help him turn into a more intellectual, cultured version of himself than Hermione Granger, the smartest girl in school? As he and Hermione spend time together, will Draco learn how to be the right type of boyfriend for Astoria? Or will he instead learn that maybe Astoria is not the right type of girl for him? Written for the Dramione RomCom Fest, based on the 90’s teen romcom She’s All That.

Midnight in Paris by Aneiria - E, one-shot - ‘Granger,’ Draco replied, casting a quick wandless charm to clean his own clothes. ‘Want to watch the magic you’re casting next time? Whatever spell that was, it nearly took both of us out.’ Hermione’s face settled into a frown of confusion. ‘I thought that was you,’ she said, hesitantly. ‘I wasn’t using magic.’ They both looked away at the same time, taking in their surroundings. ‘Where are we?’ Hermione wondered out loud, as she spun on the spot and took in the sights. It was the wrong question, really.

My Big Fat Muggle Wedding by BiscuitsForPotter - G, one-shot - Draco's gotten more used to having Muggles as future-in-laws, but what about his parents?

No More Waiting by anchoredto717 - T, one-shot - The end of Hogwarts, an impending Mastery, and confirmation that Hermione is well and truly over Ronald Weasley: three factors that push Draco into a place he never imagined. Is he really going to Harry Potter’s house party? A one shot heavily inspired by the 90s teen classic, Can’t Hardly Wait.

Off the Rails by RoseHarperMaxwell - E, WIP - For the Dramione RomCom Fest 💚 My adaptation of the movie Trainwreck (Amy Schumer/Bill Hader), featuring Draco in Amy's role. “Pans.” Draco’s head falls back petulantly. “I can't interview Granger, especially not about how she's healing Potter. Neither of them are going to want to talk to me. Make Creevey do it.” “No, you'll do it. And don't sulk at me, Draco.” Pansy shuts him down immediately, not that he expected to talk her out of it. She gives assignments, not suggestions. “Old Quidditch rivalries. Gryffindor Princess confiding in the Prince of Slytherin, with a side of The Boy Who Lived. You’re the only one for it.” She drops her pen on her notepad with finality. “She’s also fit as hell now. I’d even fuck her, so our readers will be drooling over her. This is easy, Draco. Don’t fuck it up.”

One Thing We've Got by IrisCalasse - M, WIP - Over a decade after the Second Wizarding War, Draco Malfoy is a broke socialite straddling the Muggle and magical worlds. One day a new neighbour moves in his residential complex. What has happened to Hermione Granger to make her hide from Ronald Weasley? If Cormac McLaggen is gay, why is he hanging around Granger so much? And why does her cat seem to know way too much about everything? Based on the plot of Breakfast at Tiffany's, but set in 2012 London with a magical twist. Updates every 16th of the month.

Pin down your heart by hiyas - G, one-shot - Hermione Granger contemplates a door when Destiny comes knocking.

Playing Cupid by tygermine - T, one-shot - Set It Up AU.

Pretty Witch by TakingFlight48 - E, WIP - When confronted with the opportunity to take on an alter ego - Hermione Granger, Potion's Mistress and the Wizarding World's Golden Girl became Vivian Roberts - London's weekend escort. For three years she lived in this duality until Draco Malfoy, lost in Soho and driving a precious DB6, wound up uncovering her secret. This is the tale of Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy finding a balance between work and love through the guise of fake dating, unacknowledged feelings, and Hermione not wanting to let go of a part of herself that is no longer serving her.

Promises, Promises by Musyc - T, one-shot - Lawyer and social work advocate Hermione Granger is one signature away from fulfilling her dream to have a house-elf education program. All she needs is to seal the deal, and Draco Malfoy has promised the full support of Malfoy and Son Developments. But the owner of the property is balking, there's a new buyer in the mix, and a promise isn't a contract.

The Proposal by FaeOrabel - M, WIP - When Head of Creatures Division of the DMLE, Hermione Granger, is pushed into a corner regarding a new marriage law she doesn't want to comply with, she gets the brilliant idea to stage an engagement with her long time, loyal assistant, Draco Malfoy. Draco goes along with the charade on the condition she gets him promoted to a new position. A deal set, they prepare to fool not only the Minister of Magic, but Hermione's best friend, and Draco's entire family. What could go wrong? Just the threat of Azkaban should they fail.

PS I love you by emotionalsupporthufflepuff - M, WIP - After a tragic accident, Hermione must reintroduce Draco to a life they've built far away from home. She recieves unexpected help in a series of letter written by Draco himself before the accident...

Regrets Only by nztina - T, WIP - Draco and Hermione are the best of friends - until Hermione goes off to teach at Hogwarts and Draco realises that he doesn’t just miss her. Upon her return to London, he intends to reveal his feelings, but she has a surprise of her own, one that will definitely put a damper on Draco’s plans. Draco. Hermione. And...Hermione’s fiancé?

Restless in Ripon by QuinTalon - T, WIP - Scorpius Malfoy wants his father to be happy again and as his grandfather often told him, a Malfoy always gets what he wants. A nosy radio host, well-meaning friends, and fate will help bring two lonely souls together. Well, that and one tenacious eight-year-old.

Rushing Back by floorcoaster - M, WIP - Draco Malfoy is thirty, surviving, and very much not thriving. He's near the utter end of himself when he experiences the worst of all possible bad days--a double betrayal that rocks him to his core. Unmoored, untethered, he winds up in a strange place, where he begins an adventure through time that will change the course of his life. A time travel fic with a twist on the movie "13 Going on 30."

Say Anything by MidnightValkyrie - G, 9 Chapters - To know Draco Malfoy is to love him. Hermione Granger is about to know Draco Malfoy. Written and created for the Dramione RomCom Fest, based on Say Anything.

She's the Snake by monsterleadmehome - E, WIP - In a universe where Voldemort never came back, Harry lives with Sirius, and Dumbledore isn't dying, the worst thing the Golden Trio has to contend with is their grades and Quidditch matches... oh, and the recent magical attacks on Muggles and Muggle-borns. Harry is sure Malfoy had something to do with it, and though Hermione doesn't agree, her sarcastic offer somehow turns into her latest nightmare: to go undercover as a boy in the Slytherin dorms and find out what's really going on. And maybe throw a Quidditch game or two. But there's one thing she hasn't prepared for: falling in love with the boy she's supposed to be spying on.

Signed and Sealed by niffizzle - M, WIP - She owns a children's bookstore. He runs a corporation buying significant shares of small businesses. Never in their lives have Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy gotten along — or so they think.

Timing is Everything by anne_ammons - M, 7 Chapters - Draco Malfoy is your average bachelor living an average bachelor's life, until he crosses paths with his former classmate, Hermione Granger. Strike that - when has Draco Malfoy ever been average? A retelling of the 1994 movie, Four Weddings and a Funeral, Dramione-style.

A Trip to Kouloura Beach by rennaissance_woman - one-shot - A day at the beach, what could happen?

The Truth About Kneazles and Crups by samkablam7 - T, WIP - When Draco Malfoy started hosting his wizarding radio show The Truth About Kneazles and Crups, he had no idea that it would bring Hermione Granger back into his life. He also didn't know that they would both be interested in each other. The only problem? She thinks that the radio host she's interested in is his best friend and Pro-Quidditch-player-wannabe, Blaise Zabini.

Untitled Marital Crisis Comedy by Darlingheart - G, one-shot - Draco is rich, handsome, and most importantly, excellent with the ladies. Harry Potter is not. Which is where Draco comes in. With Draco’s help Harry will learn there’s more to life than being a one-woman man. But what happens when Draco meets someone who changes his mind? And what does Hermione Granger have to do with it...

A Woman of Some Dignity by mcal - G, one-shot - That seemed to get his attention. “What are you—of course I respect you, you daft witch!”

“Your actions today show the opposite!” I answered. “And now if you’ll excuse me, I’m a woman of some dignity and I’d like to shower in peace. You’ll kindly wait half an hour before Apparating back to my flat.”  Hermione's not one for diaries, but it's been a week to say the least. It all started off with a confusing meeting with Draco Malfoy in her office, and... well, Hermione thought maybe recording her thoughts on the events would help her process. She isn't wrong.

You lost and lonely, You just like heaven by Wake_The_Dragon - T, WIP - Dramione Romcom Fest. Hermione Granger had needed something new and a change of scenery was a good start. What she hadn't counted on was renting a flat with an annoying (if handsome) ghost, who claims he isn't dead. Somehow, helping out a ghost and falling in love were two things she hadn't bargained for.

You Wish by Talonwillow (Ehollis303) - T, WIP - What makes a bad case of "Black Cat Flu" more tolerable? Young Perseus is learning that hearing about dueling, torture, revenge, giants, dementors, chases, true love, and miracles from his Grandfather Scorpius certainly makes things easier- If the man would finish the story that is. A story about love, where not even death can keep the beautiful feisty stable-girl and her sometimes irritating one true love apart. Together they must battle the evil Lord Voldemort through an adventure crossing the magical and fairy tale realm.

[sophisticated-creepy]

Daybreak was bright, crisp, and exhilarating, Lola feeling every fiber of her being humming with excitement as the brisk autumn sun kissed her face. She was inspired and playful, eager to attack the morning as she initiated day one of her research plans. The more she thought about the Hobblin’ Goblin for her story, the more she realized she didn’t know the essentials to his origins. She was completely attached to the idea of him being her “Mr. Goblin”, the imaginary friend and childhood companion, and never dove deeper into why he played his pranks, only that he did, and therefore, negated any notion for further investigation. He simply existed, and her imagination conceived the rest. Even Raphael, she discovered over breakfast, wasn’t fully aware of the iconic legend’s origins, and he was a history Professor.

“I guess I don’t know him as intimately as I thought,” she said, stunned to the awakening of her own ignorance regarding the goblin.

“Don’t feel badly,” Raphael had comforted. “I have no doubt you’ll turn this story of yours into an adventure yet.”

Taking her beloved’s advice to heart, Lola got into the proper mindset for delving into the task of research. Her deadline was fast approaching, and she wanted to make as much headway as possible in gathering her facts before putting pen to paper. Five hundred words held the capability to be irrevocably profound. This challenge was an opportunity to showcase depth instead of fluff, so today was all business, strictly pounding the streets for information, putting in the hard work of sleuthing, deducing, and discovering what exactly made the Hobblin’ Goblin tick.

Since the town was saturated in claims of the goblin’s mischief, Lola decided that she would first get as many personal testimonies from the victims of these pranks as possible. Then, upon more research, she would be able to see what connections in claims could help in unlocking the mystery of the Hobblin’ Goblin, allowing her assignment to look into the character of the people affected by the imp, and give her plot heart. Her own opinions were too biased in a light-hearted, flouncy sort of parody she perceived of the goblin’s personality, and while in some cases that may translate well in a fairytale aspect of playful misdemeanors, Lola wanted substance, something tangible to pull in the judges’ interests. As she gathered enough information, she would know in which direction to craft her words.

One such person she wanted to interview first was her former retail manager Stacy. Lola had spent a sizeable amount of time as an associate of the boutique Lotions and Potions, and had a few experiences of her own in her pocket to pull from if need be, but Stacy swore up and down that the place was actively haunted, sharing her stories daily of what went bump in the night. Stacy tended to lean on the side of over-exaggeration, but Lola wouldn’t discount any leads if the potential to find a nugget of inspiration rested somewhere in the spinning of a yarn, so onwards confidently she marched, notebook in one hand, coffee in the other, and entered the establishment filled with buttermilk and bubble bath.

The familiar chime sounding as she walked through the door brought a smile to her face, however, seeing Stacy on her hands and knees in front of a cabinet of decorative glass bottles had her frowning. A clumping of paper towels and a wastebasket at an elbow told Lola that, at least, nothing dire had happened.

“Do you need some help?” Lola asked, setting her belongings on the checkout counter as she fully entered the store. Stacy glanced up from her position, giving her head a slight shake, crookedly smiling at the former employee.

“You don’t work here anymore, Lola, it’s no longer your job to help clean up spills,” Stacy remarked, carefully scooping up a glob of lavender scented lotion mixed with glass shards.

“That doesn’t mean I can’t help out a friend.” Lola went to get the cleaning supplies on hand stowed in a nearby cabinet drawer for emergencies such as these. She handed the bottle of cleaner to Stacy while she herself took up a broom to gather fly away chunks of glass. “I didn’t mean to catch you at a bad time. What happened?”

“Oh, nothing out of the ordinary,” Stacy sighed, spraying down the ceramic tiled floor, cleaning up the last of the mess. “A bottle of lotion leapt off the shelf is all.”

“Really? That’s wonderful!” Lola grasped the broom tightly to her chest in delight, a beaming smile lighting up her eyes as she turned excitedly to the woman still crawling on the ground.

“Well, you don’t have to sound so excited about it,” Stacy informed. “I mean, product isn’t cheap, you know. I’ll be out of business if things keep flying off my shelves only to have them break on my floor.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Lola frantically apologized. “It’s just…I couldn’t ask for more perfect timing. May I record you?”

“Record me? What…?” Stacy watched flabbergasted as Lola rushed to her purse resting on the checkout counter, rummaging deep within the numerous confines before emerging with a portable tape recorder. Lola immediately rushed back over to her former manager, sliding to her knees, shoving the recorder up close to a bewildered Stacy’s face.

“How did the bottle fly off the shelf? Did you hear a noise prior to it falling, or after? Like, maybe a thumping, dragging sound? Was there an ominous presence before it happened? Did you see a shadow figure? Do you believe this was the work of the Hobblin’ Goblin?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Stacy laughed, rearing back on her haunches, straightening away from Lola’s tape recorder and barrage of strange questions. She couldn’t help but find humor in Lola’s exuberance. “Ease up there, gumshoe. Are you playing detective now, or something?”

“I’m in the middle of an investigation for the creative arts,” Lola declared seriously.

“Sounds important.” Stacy got to her feet, taking with her the wastebasket and cleaning implements, stowing the items behind the main counter, Lola a closely following shadow.

“So, about this incident with the lotion bottle…do you think it was a prank caused by the notoriously reputable Hobblin’ Goblin?” While leaning over the counter, Lola held her tape recorder out to Stacy. “Try to speak slowly and clearly. And enunciate,” she added, demonstrating her instructions in the same manner she wished her friend to speak.

“Why are you asking so many questions about the Hobblin’ Goblin? And why are you using a tape recorder? Do they even make tapes anymore? There is a thing called ‘digital’, you know.”

“First of all Stanley,” Lola began, indicating her tape recorder’s name, “has been with me since the beginning. He was there when I got scared by a bird that one time during an evening stakeout.”

“When did you---?”

“Secondly,” Lola interrupted, “I’m asking these questions because I’m working on a story about the Hobblin’ Goblin. Weird things happen in here all the time, and I wanted to get some of your stories and see if they line up with our local legend and his patterns for hauntings.”

“Well, that makes sense,” Stacy said with a smile. “I’d be glad to talk about the hauntings that happen here. I have plenty of stories to share.”

“Great!” Lola cheered. “Let’s get started with what happened right before I walked in.”

“Oh, that was nothing,” Stacy stated, waving her hand dismissively at the cabinet full of fancy lotions. “That was probably a case in gravity, if I’m honest. The truly weird things come about in the early mornings when I’m trying to get the store ready to open.”

“Tell me about these weird things.” Even with her recorder rolling, Lola still took handwritten notes to capture important details in the moment so as not to miss an idea that could be overlooked when reviewing the tape several hours later.

“For starters, it’s like I’m being watched,” Stacy described. “I can feel eyes on me, observing me, and it’s very unnerving. Sometimes I hear footsteps following behind me, and when I turn around to look, there’s no one there.”

“What kind of footsteps? Is there a limp? Are they heavy set? Quick?”

“More of a gentle shuffling,” Stacy clarified. Lola frowned while marking in her notebook.

“The Hobblin’ Goblin is supposed to walk with a crutch, so his step pattern should be different than ‘normal’ sounding footsteps,” Lola voiced her thought aloud. “Is there anything else out of the ordinary that you can think of? Maybe something that pertains to the goblin himself?”

Stacy thought hard, trying to recall occurrences of the abnormal befalling her boutique. “Sometimes I hear breathing,” she said at last. “And sometimes, things will fly off the shelves. I’ve had the record player cut off on me once or twice as well.”

All of Stacy’s stories sounded more of a casual haunt than specifically that of a trickster, the activity appearing more benign as opposed to mischievous. Lola wanted to stay as open minded and unbiased as possible as she asked her questions to help form her story, but she was honestly hoping for something more lively and extraordinary. “Can you tell me of anything…fun?”

“Fun?” repeated Stacy.

“I mean, has anything…I don’t know…silly…happened in the time you’ve experienced these haunts? The Hobblin’ Goblin is a light hearted trickster, he plays pranks. Do things go missing only to turn up in the most random places? Do the lights flicker as if to say ‘hello’?”

“I had a pen thrown at me,” Stacy shared. “I wouldn’t necessarily call that ‘fun’, but it was the most out of the ordinary incident to have happen to me.”

Lola perked up at hearing the news. “What were you doing when that happened?”

“Actually, I was talking with a customer about the Hobblin’ Goblin a few days ago,” Stacy recalled, the memory of the conversation returning to her mind. “When it happened, I just laughed, figuring he must not have appreciated what it was I had been saying.”

“What did you say?” Lola’s sparkle was back in her eyes as she eagerly listened to what Stacy had to tell.

“I said I thought that he was childish, and that there were a lot more scary things out in the world than an imp who merely liked to play tricks.”

“Oh, Stacy,” Lola admonished, clicking her tongue reprovingly. “That was cruel.”

“How was I being cruel?”

“You said his pranks were childish like it was a bad thing,” Lola pouted. “Goblins are generally mischievous, and you insulted him. I think you might even have gone as far as to hurt his feelings.”

Stacy laughed. “Why am I not surprised that you would defend the Hobblin’ Goblin?” The door chime announced a new arrival walking into the boutique as the friends were sharing a laugh. Stacy looked over Lola’s shoulder to greet the person, smiling friendly as she recognized the mail carrier. “Good morning, Joyce.”

“Good morning, Stacy. Morning, Lola,” the mail woman greeted. “I haven’t seen you in a while, little miss. How’s tricks? Staying out of trouble?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Lola jest. “Hey, Joyce, do you have any stories of being pranked by the Hobblin’ Goblin?” Lola turned her recorder towards the mail woman, prepared to document the newest insights into her subject matter.

“I have no time to deal with pranks,” Joyce stated. “I deliver the mail, and go about my day peacefully. I don’t call upon the Hobblin’ Goblin to play his tricks on me.”

“Meaning, she’s afraid of him,” Stacy snidely commented good humoredly.

“I respect the spirits, Stacy,” Joyce quipped in return with a smile, no malice exchanging between the two friends. “Why are you asking?” she then asked Lola.

“I’m doing research for a story about the goblin, and I wanted him to have some authenticity to his character,” she answered.

“I see. Just be careful where you go poking around,” cautioned Joyce. “You don’t want to inadvertently stir up trouble.”

“Actually, I think she does,” Stacy teased.

“More or less,” Lola agreed. “Thank you for your concern, Joyce. I’ll make sure I’m careful,” she promised.

“You’ve got a good heart, Lola, I’m confident you’ll be safe.” Reaching into her mailbag, she passed a handful of envelopes and a newspaper to Stacy. “You be careful, too.”

“I haven’t done anything wrong,” Stacy defended.

“Yet, but I know you also like to go looking for trouble. Have a nice day, ladies.” With a tip of her hat, and a wink of an eye, Joyce left the boutique.

“I should probably get going, too,” Lola sighed, shutting off her recorder and gathering her belongings. “I was going to see if maybe Mr. Jasons would be interested in sharing some of his stories next. Thanks for letting me bother you.”

“You weren’t bothering me in the slightest,” Stacy assured as she began filing through her mail. “Oh, hey, look at this,” she said, unfolding the newspaper to read. “The old train yard at the Miners Museum made the front page.”

“Neato,” Lola responded automatically, only half listening as she slung her purse over her shoulder, her mind already on her next objective.

“Oh, my God! Someone was attacked!”

“Wait, what?” Stacy’s declaration fully captured Lola’s attention. “What happened?”

Stacy’s eyes furiously scanned the front page, speed reading as much of the information as she could. “The police aren’t sure,” she shared after a breathless pause. “They say a security guard was pushed down while chasing away some kids during the middle of the nightshift rounds. He hit his head on the railway of the old mine train. He has a major concussion and a fractured skull.”

“That’s horrible,” Lola gasped.

“It continues to say that another guard found him in the train yard shortly after he fell. No evidence, however, of the kids, allegedly, playing around the site could be found,” Stacy concluded.

“Poor guy,” Lola sympathized. “Are they sure it was kids mucking about, and that he didn’t just accidently trip?”

“Looks like it,” she validated, continuing to rove the paper. “The second guard states the first guard, the victim, went to go chase away the kids playing by the mineshaft when they saw flashing lights from the security monitors. Here’s a picture of the scene.” Stacy turned the paper around for Lola to see the front page where a photo of the old steam engine and mine were pictured, and with it, just on the outer margins, was the backdrop of the Dead Forest. Lola felt a chill creep down her spine as she looked at the newspaper. Something ominous radiated from the main image, and she squinted critically at the photo, taking the paper to examine the image closer where a shadowed form blending into the tree line, a darker mass of shapes, hovered half-cropped out of frame. The anomaly warranted further investigation, and Lola knew just the person from whom she wanted a second opinion.

“Do you mind if I hang onto this?”

“You can keep it,” Stacy offered. “I don’t read much from the paper anymore.”

“Thanks,” Lola said distantly, her eyes glued on the blurry, pixelated blob. She began to turn and leave when Stacy summoned her back.

“Little witch,” she called. Lola blinked, focusing on Stacy. “Are you planning on flying out of here, or may I have my broom back?”

“Hmm? Oh! My bad,” Lola chuckled, embarrassed. “Sorry about that.” Lola leaned the broomstick she had been holding onto since helping clean up the broken bottle against a cabinet. “I didn’t even realize I’d still been holding it.”

“It’s hard for a witch to hide what comes naturally,” Stacy joked, giving Lola a look that spoke of amusement.

“Thanks for not blowing my cover,” Lola kidded back. “And thanks again for sharing your time and stories with me, I really do appreciate it.”

“Of course. Don’t be a stranger.” The two waved their goodbyes, and Lola stepped out onto the historic cobblestone, once more lost in the picture of her newspaper.

“There’s just something ‘off’ about this picture,” Lola murmured to herself. “I can’t put my finger on it, but I’m hoping Modesta can.” Folding the newspaper back into its original shape, Lola cradled the bundle into the crook of her arm along with her notebook, her coffee in one hand, and set her confident march towards her friend’s shop of Curios and Oddities.

~~~~~~~~~~

[countessofravenclaw]

It could never happen... but you can't know about the future

It's my birthday, so I am releasing something special out of my usual schedule!

So this started as a school assignment, where we had to write a fairytale with 1300 characters (like you could write a good engaging story with that lenght), so I wrote one page very summed version of this and after I turned it in I expanded and finished it and this is the result. This is just something fun, kind of an AU, but I would categorize it as a dream sequence. We can't know if it happened, maybe it did or didn't. Here is the original version if anyone is interested

Nina’s phone dinged. She looked at it. It was strange, she usually didn’t get any messages. You see, she didn’t have any friends who would text her. Her parents usually just straight up called when they had something to say, which was usually a lot since her mother was an epiphany of a helicopter mother. It was a record that her mother had not called her today yet. She just had to accept that her daughter was growing up.

Things had changed quite fast for Nina. She now actually had a friend. She used to have friends when she had been a child, but starting school they all had vanished. She had been left alone and she didn’t know what to do about it. She couldn’t just go and talk to people, what if they hated her. But then Luna had just appeared out of Mexico just before school had started. She was colorful, loud and noisy, everything that Nina was not, but they complimented each other.

Luna had gone to get something from the library and to her surprise, Nina had not joined her. She practically lived in the library. Books had been her only friends for so long. Maybe Luna had not found what she was looking for and was now texting Nina for help. Luna was a rare sight at the library so it was no wonder that she had gotten lost. You needed a certain connection with the library before you could navigate it.

It was Nina’s second year at the Blake South College. She had been totally alone all of her first year, so she had used all her time to studying and had quickly become the top student in her class. The Library had been the only good thing about the school until Luna had arrived… that was not exactly true… there was another thing that made Nina happy that she was at Blake.

This reason was something that only her heart knew. She could never say it out loud and never tell it to anyone, not even Luna. Luna would definitely laugh at her if she ever told her. She was being delusional after all. It was her dark secret.

Nina looked at the message again. The message was from an unknown number. Nina hesitated for a moment if she should even open the message. Her mother had always told her to never communicate with anyone online, but she was not a child anymore. Her curiosity got better of her, nobody ever texted her outside of Luna. Nina opened the message and just stared at it for a moment.

“Be happy, with love. Your future is bright. Don’t let it go. From: Felicity” the message read. Nina was confused. What was she supposed to not let go? Who was this Felicity?

Attached to the message was a video. The file had an odd name. It said: “J&R 2017”.

Nina clicked on it and almost fainted on the spot. In the video, she saw herself walking to the locker rooms of Roller, but she looked different. She was older, her hair was longer and she clearly had done something to it. She was wearing much different clothing too. Nina could admit she looked beautiful, but something was off about her. She looked older, more mature, and happier.

Her breath got hitched in her throat. Her legs went weak, and she had to lean on the wall so she wouldn’t fall. There was someone else in the video, who entered the locker room after her. He was holding her hand…

Nina almost forgot how to breathe for a second. Holding her hand in the video was… was… it was Gastón. He looked older too, and if it was possible, even better looking. He already was tall, but he looked even taller and his gorgeous face looked more defined. And she didn’t even dare to look at his arms. It was a good thing that he was wearing a long-sleeved shirt. His hair was also lacking the blonde highlights he had. Nina loved those personally, or she loved looking at those from afar.

She had done that for years, ever since she had met him. On the first day of Blake, she had been frantically looking for her classroom and bumped into him and dropped all her books. She had expected to him just walk away as everyone did, but he didn’t. She didn’t know how it had happened, but just one look at those brown eyes made her get lost in them. She always got lost in them. I might have been foolish to fall for someone so fast, but she did not control her heart. Otherwise, she should have never fallen for him. Being madly in love with a person who never could notice her… it was not easy. All she could do was just wait for her feeling to just go away.

He was the most popular guy at the school, he and his friend Matteo. One day, Nina had found out that they were into Roller skating and actually followed them into Roller. She was a bit ashamed to admit that she had been a bit of a stalker, but what else could she have done. Looking at him at school was not enough anymore. To her surprise, she actually got quite fond of the place and started to go there for her own benefits, not just to watch Gastón.

She snapped out of her thoughts and focused on the video again. What she saw made her head spin. She was sure she would pass out. What was this cruel trick that the universe was playing on her? What she saw, had only happened in her dreams. Something that could never be reality.

In the video, she had been saying something, but he interrupted her by pulling her closer and leaning down to kiss her. Nina heard herself saying something about some cameras, but she couldn’t focus on herself. Gastón had a mischievous smile on his face. Nina loved his smile, she loved everything about him, but she wished she didn’t. The feeling she wished could go away, only got stronger every time she saw him. She lost focus on the video for a moment and got lost thinking of Gastón, but she finally focused back on it.

Her legs went weak. He was leaning down to kiss her and pinning her down on a wall behind her. She could never admit it to anyone, not Luna, definitely not to her mother, but she had imagined herself being in that position with him, - multiple times - when she wanted to be extra cruel to herself. But before Nina was able to see his lips touch hers, she fainted. Maybe it was by choice, she could probably never get that image out of her head if she saw it, and it would drive her mad.

Nina woke up leaning against a wall at school. What had happened? Everything started to come back. Images flashed through her mind. She frantically looked at her phone, but all the signs of the message were gone. Of course, it had been just a dream, even if it had felt do real. Typical of her, daydreaming of a future that could never happen.

Nina leaned her back at the wall again. She was smarter than that and she should not need to waste her time for hopeless thoughts. She knew that it was something that was not going to happen, but her mind was devious and the false hope and the imagined scenarios always crept into her mind.

“Nina!” Luna’s voice rang and snapped Nina out of her trance finally.

“Are you alright?” Luna asked. “I am fine,” Nina said while standing up from the wall. She wanted to tell Luna that she had been daydreaming about Gastón, again, but she couldn’t. What would Luna think if she found out, that Nina was pining after a guy who was way out of her league?

“Did you find the book?” Nina asked, trying to distract herself from her thoughts. “No, I ran out of time. That place is a maze. But we need to go to the class now. You can go and find me the book later. I would just get lost again”.

They headed to the class and in an hour Nina had almost forgotten her strange daydream, but one thing had still lingered in her mind. Felicity, there was something about that name that inspired Nina. Even after, when she could not even remember where she had learned the name from, it still was on her mind. Little did she know, Felicity changed everything about her future and things that she thought never would happen… actually happened.

***

Nina shook awake. Her hair was spilled over Gastón’s chest and his arms were still tight around her even when he was dead asleep. That had been a weird dream, it was almost like a memory of something that she had long forgotten about. She usually didn’t remember her dreams, not anymore, since she had all she could ever dream of. She lowered her head back on Gastón’s chest and closed her eyes. Sometimes she wished that she could send a message to her younger self, and tell her that everything would be okay.

[justanoutlawfic]

how about a fic where snow is in jail and regina is her wife and she ask for a marital visit? i feel like prison sex is what this fandom needs and you said it yourself in a fic, snow is the ultimate dom ;)

This took me a bit and it’s probably a tad angstier than you expected. I went back and forth on how to handle this, and this is what my mind came up with.

On AO3/FF

The first time Regina had sex with Mary Margaret, both were partially buzzed on Southern Comfort. Their clothes discarded on the floor of Regina’s apartment, leading a trail to her room. Her roommate was out of town. They were able to blast Journey as they fucked each other into the night. There was some awkward fumbling and testing boundaries, but for their first time together, it had been pretty great.

 Now if Regina wants to have sex with her wife for the first time in months, she needs to be violated. She’s heard of searches in prisons, but nothing prepared her for just how invasive it was.

 “Cough,” the burly female guard barked after she dropped her lace thong. This comes after being patted down in every area known to man. Regina manages to get one out. “You can do better than that.”

 Regina resists an eye roll, coughing harder. It’s up to the guard’s satisfaction and she quickly pulls the thong, followed by her skirt back up. The guard barreling over six feet leads her down a few winding hallways. It’s so quick, Regina couldn’t find her way out if she really wanted to. The guard stops in front of the door, fishing out her keys to open it. On the other side is a nicer room than she expected. Mal had prepared her for potentially the worst, saying it varied depending on the prison. There’s a queen-sized mattress covered in a simple white sheet in the center of the room. A torn couch sits on one side, a bookshelf with a few worn textbooks on the other. A single fan is plugged into the wall, currently off. A table near the couch has a vase filled with lilies. The harsh lighting washes out the stark walls with no decoration

 In the corner of the room is where she stands. Bags crowd Mary Margaret’s wide green eyes. The light makeup she once worn is nowhere to be seen. Having moved on from the orange jumpsuit to tan scrubs over a white long-sleeved t-shirt. Perhaps the most shocking is the hair. Regina’s wife once had such beautiful dark curls that hung around her shoulders. In the six months since the trial, she’s cut it down to a pixie cut.

 Mary Margaret’s lips tugged up into a smile. “Hi, baby.”

“Snow,” Regina breathes, the nickname for her wife has never tasted so good.

 She runs right into her arms, squeezing her for dear life. Mary Margaret presses a kiss to her forehead, stroking her hair.

“You have six hours,” the guard says with as much enthusiasm as dried paint. “The door locks behind me. There’s a bathroom through there.” Regina assumes she’s pointing somewhere, but she keeps her face buried in Mary Margaret’s shoulder, inhaling the cheapo soap and cigarettes. “We’ll call that phone every hour. If you don’t answer, we’ll assume you somehow escaped and come looking.”

“I got it,” Mary Margaret says, her head going against Regina’s.

“You’ll both be searched again when it’s time to go.”

“I got it.” Regina hears her wife sigh. “Ma’am.”

“That’s better, inmate.”

 The door squeaks open and then slams shut. Keys rattle to show that they are secure and alone. Regina finally pulls away from her wife. Mary Margaret strokes her cheek, taking her in completely.

 “You look exhausted, my love,” she murmurs.

Regina shakes her head. “I’m fine. Look at you.” She frowns, realizing how much weight her wife has lost. “Your beautiful hair.” She reaches up to touch the short ‘do. “I mean, it’s still gorgeous, but…”

“It was just too hard to keep up with, especially with 30 second showers,” Mary Margaret shrugs. “There’s a woman in here who does it. Looked better than I expected.” She runs her fingers over Regina’s silk blouse. “I can’t believe I actually miss the feel of silk.”

Regina nods. “Are you eating, though? Sleeping?”

“I’m fine, Regina.”

“You don’t look it. I could talk to Mal, maybe…”

“Regina,” Mary Margaret says firmly. “It’s prison, not the Ritz. I’m not supposed to look great. I’m keeping myself out of drama, stick to my group.” She sighs when Regina’s face remains unchanged. “And this is why I put off this visit. I didn’t want you seeing me this way.”

“And I don’t want to not see you,” Regina takes her hands. “I can handle it, I promise.”

 She tries to force a smile on her face to prove it. Mary Margaret partially matches it, leading her over to the couch. They settle down, keeping a grip on one another.

“How’s Henry?” Mary Margaret asks.

“He’s doing well.” Regina feels herself genuinely smiling as she thinks of the child they share. “Getting better at Math and he entered a short story into a contest at school.”

“What’s it about?”

“Well, they had to write a twist on a fairytale. He wrote about Snow White falling for the Evil Queen.”

Mary Margaret laughs, shaking her head. “He’s always championed for more representation.”

“He’s doing well,” Regina finds herself repeating, for both of their benefits. “He…he misses you, though. Really wanted to come today.”

Mary Margaret immediately shakes her head. “I don’t want him to see me in here.”

“Mary Margaret…”

“We have the appeal coming up and Mal thinks I have a shot of being out of here soon.”

“In the next year,” Regina points out. “He’s going to grow so much in that time.”

“And that’ll happen whether we do these family visits or a piece of glass between us.” Mary Margaret shakes her head again. “No, I’ve ruined his childhood enough. I’m not about to do more damage.”

“Hey,” Regina touches her cheek, forcing her to look her in the eye. “You didn’t ruin his childhood. He still gets to have one.”

“You’re telling me he doesn’t worry about this stuff? That kids aren’t making fun of him?” Regina grows quiet and Mary Margaret clears her throat. “Tell me the bad part.”

“Do you want to focus on that? I see a bed over there…” Regina trails off, fiddling with her top

“We have six hours, Regina,” she says, her voice scarily quiet.

 Mary Margaret isn’t one to get loud. When she’s mad, her voice gets lower and lower. If it gets so bad that soon she’ll just stop talking and fix the person with one of her looks. It’s always how Henry knows he’s in deep shit with his mama.

 “Now tell me, the bad part. All of it.”

Regina sighs, pulling away from her. “He knows more than we wanted him to.” Mary Margaret’s eyes nearly bug out of her head. “I tried to protect him. We all did. But it’s all over the papers, kids at school are reading it.”

“They’re only 10!”

“You were a teacher, Mare, you know how easy it is for kids to get their hands on this stuff. Especially since it went online.”

“What are they saying?” Regina hesitates. “Regina.”

She sighs once more. “Just asking him what it’s like to have a murderer for a mother. They ask if he can bring the bat to show and tell.”

Mary Margaret shakes her head. “Kids can be fucking assholes.”

Regina nods in agreement. “I’ve got him appointments with Dr. Hopper and I can tell it’s helping, but I also think he’s trying to act tough. I’ve told him he doesn’t have to be the man of the house but he’s always trying to do all the chores. His teacher called me in because he’s missing so many assignments. When I talked to him about it, he said it’s because he needs to take care of me.”

 Tears pool Regina’s eyes just as they did that night. She and Henry had hugged each other as they cried. Her baby boy sobbed about how badly he wanted things to go back to normal, he actually uttered the words “I want my mommy”. For the past six months, he’s kept a brave face, acting wise behind his years. This is just a reminder of what he is: a little boy that needs both of his mothers.

 Mary Margaret scrubs furiously at her face, trying to hide the evidence of her own tears. “I’ll talk to him about it,” she whispers. “I’ll call, tell him that he doesn’t need to do so.”

“I already did, I know Dr. Hopper is as well. I’m sure a phone call from you wouldn’t hurt, though,” Regina quickly adds on. “He just misses you.” She twiddles her thumbs together. “We both do.”

“I miss you both too.” She gnaws on her lips. “And how are we doing financially?”

Regina waves her off. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Regina, come on. You said when I agreed for you to come here that you’d be honest. So, be honest.”

“Well…we’re hanging in there.” Regina rubs the back of her neck. “Between legal fees, me taking off so much time from work and us going down to one income as it is…we’ve burned through our savings. I had to get a loan from my mother.”

 Mary Margaret groans, tipping her head back. Regina hangs her head, picking at a loose thread on her skirt. The two were never fabulously well off, but they made enough to live comfortably. Mary Margaret worked for a respected private school, which meant Henry got to go for free. Regina has been at the same ad agency for years. Lately, they’ve been hesitant to put her on accounts given her associations. Everyone thinks Manhattan is huge, but the truth is, it’s a tiny island. People hear Blanchard-Mills and instantly ask “That Blanchard? The one who killed her father?” It hasn’t made paying the rent easier.

 “I know,” Regina mumbles. “But we had to pay the rent and other bills. And that’s only going to get us so far.” She shakes her head. “I’ve decided to take up Kathryn on her offer. I’ll give up the apartment, then Henry and I will move in with her in Connecticut.”

“Regina, no.” Mary Margaret’s eyes are wide once more. “Too much has changed for him! We can’t uproot him again.”

“We don’t have much of a choice, Mary Margaret!” Regina snaps, causing her wife to back up a bit on the couch. She honestly doesn’t care. Mary Margaret is doing an incredible thing, but she can’t see how bad things are. It’s partially on Regina, she’s tried to protect her from it. “If we stay in Manhattan, it’s going to bankrupt us. I can commute and still visit you. But Kathryn isn’t charging me any rent or expecting us to pay bills. I’ve looked into the local schools there, they’re adequate.”

“Mal says…”

“Yes, you’ll be out in a year, maybe. Big maybe. I need a backup plan if you don’t. And I’m sorry, even if you do, life has still changed. You’re at risk of losing your teaching license and Hyperion Day certainly isn’t going to take you back. Stamford isn’t exactly cheap to live in, but it’ll be better than New York. When you get out, we can look into affordable housing.”

Mary Margaret clears throat, a hurt look etched on her face. “Looks like you’ve figured this all out on your own.”

“Well, you’re in here so I kind of have to.”

 Regina gets up from the couch, walking over to stare at the blank wall. Any guilt she had before she walked in has washed over with resentment. The soft sound of tennis shoes pad against the linoleum.

 “We’ve been over this, Regina,” Mary Margaret whispers. “It had to be me.”

“And why?” Regina whips back around. “You’re innocent! I…”

Mary Margaret smacks her hand over Regina’s mouth. “Shut the fuck up,” she hisses. “This place is probably wired.”

 Regina glares at her behind the hand. Ever since it happened, Mary Margaret has called the shots. She said they couldn’t call the police. She destroyed the bat. She decided to take the fall and let everyone suspect her instead of Regina.

 It’s still all pretty much a blur. Mary Margaret’s father showing up to the house, demanding to see her. Regina had never met him before but she knew the stories well. After all he had done to Mary Margaret, she knew she had to protect her. At first, she just kept telling him to leave, but he wormed his way into the house. Regina went to call the cops and then he attacked her. One minute, she was fighting for her life. The next, Leopold’s lifeless body bleeding out onto their rug. Regina’s Louisville slugger gripped tightly beneath her fingers. Mary Margaret came home not long after. She didn’t even blink, she just went into crisis mode.

 Henry was at the neighbor’s playing and Mary Margaret called to request a sleepover. They waited until nightfall, wrapping Leopold into a tarp and dragging him down to their garage. They drove hours to the countryside where they found the woods he had once taught his only daughter to hunt. Leopold was buried carefully, not for his dignity but their protection. Regina would have nightmares of the blood, the fire that destroyed most of the evidence. Mary Margaret drove his car to a poorer part of the city where it was bound to be stolen. All DNA scrubbed from their home. It was like it never happened.

 But when Leopold didn’t show up to work the following Monday, a search went out. It took three months for them to uncover the body.

 And who else would the first suspect be except his only yet estranged daughter, Mary Margaret Blanchard-Mills.

 Mary Margaret never admitted to it, she maintained her innocence. A detective friend of Leopold had something to prove and stretched enough evidence to pin it on her. Mal said Mary Margaret was definitely not given a fair trial and would argue bias to get it all overturned. She has faith and Regina wants to have it as well. Just as much as she wanted to just come clean to avoid all of it.

 “It was self-defense,” she told Mary Margaret. “He was threatening you, attacked me. I protected the both of us.”

“You’re a Latinx woman with a record,” her wife pointed out.

“One assault charge, which was also in self-defense.”

“They won’t care. Mal’s right. It has to be me. Besides, either way, I go down. I was there, I helped you cover it up. Henry can’t lose both of us.”

 There’s not a day that goes day that Regina doesn’t regret it or debate heading into NYPD headquarters to turn herself in. And then she remembers the sacrifice her wife made. All they’ve done. According to Mal, the fight will be over soon.

“Then you can go back to normal.”

 Regina knows nothing will ever be normal again. Her wife is locked up. Regina killed a man. She still has nightmares every time she closes her eyes. Their son is forever traumatized. Mary Margaret has been through hell in prison.

 Normal is long gone.

 Regina bites Mary Margaret’s hand, causing her to quickly move it away and shake it out. “I don’t want to fight,” she whispers. “Even if we have six hours.”

Mary Margaret nods. “I don’t either.”

 There’s so much left to say. The fears about the appeal, their son, the future of their mental states and even marriage.

 Regina isn’t going to let that ruin the now.

 “Undress me,” Regina practically demands.

Mary Margaret cocks her eyebrow. “Excuse me?” A chill runs down Regina’s spine.

“P…please,” she whimpers. “Please undress me.”

“What do you want me to take off first.” Regina’s trembling fingers fall to her blouse. “Use your words, baby girl.”

“My…my shirt.”

 Mary Margaret nods. She takes great care in each button, purposefully going slow. Eventually, it falls to the floor. She snakes her hand behind Regina’s back and unhooks the bra, allowing it to go with the blouse. Mary Margaret cups her breasts, running her fingers around the areolas. Regina bites down on her lip, letting out a soft squeal when Mary Margaret pinches her nipple.

 “So sensitive,” Mary Margaret coos. She runs her hands against the soft skin surrounding the nipples, feeding Regina’s touch starvation. “Taking care of everyone else, but who is taking care of my princess?”

 Princess. People often joke that Regina is a ruthless evil queen in meetings. In the bedroom, she isn’t a tough business woman or strict mother. She’s Mary Margaret’s princess.

 “No one,” Regina moans. “I need you.”

“And I’m right here.”

 Mary Margaret lays a kiss to her lips, their first since before the final verdict. Regina savors every moment of it, even if Mary Margaret’s lips are chapped beyond belief. Her wife’s lips travel, moving to her neck. What starts with soft, gentle kisses quickly turns to sucking, marking her territory. Looks like Regina will have to wear scarves for the coming weeks. Maybe it’s high schoolish of her, but Regina will never be against hickeys. She tingles from the sucking alone, her hand grabbing the front of her skirt. With her eyes shut, Mary Margaret smacks her hand away. She ever so slightly pulls her lips away, causing Regina to whine.

 “Did I give you permission to touch yourself?” Mary Margaret asks.

Regina shakes her head, only to get a smack to her bottom prompting a verbal answer. “No.”

“That’s what I thought. Keep your hands on me.”

 Regina obliges, wrapping her arms around Mary Margaret’s waist.  Her wife’s lips travel, leaving marks around her shoulder blades, chest and breasts. Regina fights to touch herself, digging her nails into the scrubs. Mary Margaret unzips her skirt and Regina steps out of it, kicking it across the room. Her thong is slid down for the second time that afternoon, Mary Margaret helping her out of it. She holds the black garment to her face, taking a deep inhale. Regina stands stark naked in the cold room, her nipples perking up from the temperature.

 “On the bed,” Mary Margaret demands.

 Regina nods and lays against the lumpy mattress. Mary Margaret pulls off her two shirts, followed by her pants. Underneath are the ugliest bra and panties combo. Mary Margaret warned her it was bad, but Regina certainly wasn’t expecting this. She smirks.

 “Nice lingerie, Grandma.”

Mary Margaret’s eyes playfully narrow. “Somebody’s cruising for a bruising.”

“Go right ahead,” Regina tempts her. “You know you want to.”

 Mary Margaret shakes her head, a faux disappointed look on her face. She strips off the bra and underwear. Her wife has always kept things all natural, but the bush has grown more with time. For the briefest of moments, Regina wonders if it’s possible for her shaven pussy to get rugburn. Mary Margaret climbs onto the bed. She rubs Regina’s calves, leading up to her thigh. Regina’s gently rolled over onto her side so Mary Margaret can marvel at the words tattooed above her ass. She shivers as her wife traces the five-word mantra. A callback to a random drunk night in college.

 “Pour some sugar on me,” Mary Margaret purrs.

“I wish you’d let me get it removed.”

“If you really wanted to, you know I’d let you do whatever. But can you really part with it?”

Regina doesn’t even have to think. “No.”

“Good.” Mary Margaret rolls her back over and slowly climbs on top of her. “Now, let me take care of you.”

Regina can only really get a good look at Mary Margaret’s chest. “I want to take care of you.”

Mary Margaret bends down, her breasts practically spilling on top of Regina. She presses a finger to her lips. “We have six hours.”

“More like five and a half now.”

“Hush.”

 Mary Margaret moves backward, her legs wrapping around Regina’s. She reaches into the bedside table, removing a bottle of lube. Regina tilts her head. Mary Margaret shrugs.”

“I heard they provided this and was shocked too.”

 She squirts a decent amount onto her finger, carefully applying it to both areas. Regina bites down on her lip. It’s definitely not the quality stuff sitting in their own side table, but it’ll do the job for now. Mary Margaret slides down, sticking one finger up at first, making the room for the second. She flexes them in and out, a loud moan escaping Regina.

 “God, I’ve forgotten how good you feel,” Mary Margaret groans.

“S…same.”

“It’s such a shame,” Mary Margaret’s fingers fuck her harder. “We don’t have our toys here.”

 Regina thinks of the pink box hidden carefully at the bottom of their closet and grins.

 “Have you been using some of those without me?” Mary Margaret asks, pausing her fingers. Regina nods, blushing a bit. “Like?”

Regina smirks cheekily. “Your favorite magic wand.”

“Oh, you naughty girl.” Mary Margaret returns to her fingering. “Tell you what, when all of this is done, Mommy will show you how good it feels when she uses it on you.”

Regina nods. “Yes, please, please.”

“Remember when I first bought it? How excited you were to watch me use it?” Regina grins at the memory. “Watching as it got me all wet and horny, saving the best for you. I want you think about that right now, baby.”

“I am.” She shuts her eyes. “I promise.”

 The fingers aren’t the same as the wand or the myriad of other toys they have in that box. It doesn’t replace their thousand count sheets or their favorite aftercare lotion. None of it makes forget Regina that she’s fucking her wife in a prison.

 But it sure as hell brings a relief from the stress she’s been under since all of this began. A momentary distraction before she’s forced to face reality.

  “Get me wet, baby,” Mary Margaret moans.

 It takes a few more thrusts, but Regina finds it in herself. Mary Margaret falls on top of her, her lips lightly brushing against Regina’s.

 “Again,” Regina mumbles, her eyes growing heavy.

Mary Margaret shakes her head. “We have time. Take a little nap.”

“I don’t want to miss out on anything with you.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Regina gives into sleep, clinging tightly to her wife. She only awakes a half hour later when the phone rings out and Mary Margaret’s annoyed voice fills the room.

“Yeah. I’m still here.”

[modern-oedipus]

Some Self Evaluation

It’s just the tuesday of the second week of the semester and I stayed up all night to finish an assignment about Corona Virus. I know that virus by my heart at this point. In last 48 hours I only slept for 5 hours... but then that’s my fault. Yesterday was not a fault but rather fun, but the night I just brought to its twilight was my fault. I overestimated my ability to perform computational tasks well under pressure. I am not practical with it yet, that’s why it took be absurdly long time to finish it. I also had to stop halfway because of outside factors (actually, my parents called me because... they were arguing... which... is so rare, I do not have a family who argues often, so although I’m old enough it still upsets me a lot to know that two people I care the most about were doing badly.) and lack of sleeplessness from the day before as well. Also, perhaps felt overwhelmed because of various things. At some point I laid down on the bed and counted how many triggers I faced today (I mean, yesterday). The main triggers that would end up with me havinng breakdowns. Eleven. I had confronted eleven damn triggers on the same day, as if they all gathered to greet me. Normally I have a breakdown if I have only one or two of them, but ELEVEN at once? Thankfully I haven’t broken. Not a lot. I found a calming music and I also had friends nearby to keep me in the mood. Also, my “adult” thoughts may be finally kicking in-/ I had noticed that I could, by no way, escape from this assignment, even if I skipped the class I’d have to send it as a soft copy and my attendance grades would lower too. I don’t have option not to take this class either. I want to learn this class too. So if a task is overwhelming, despite me having all weekend, some parts must be on me— I shall take responsibility so I do not repeat this again. Though, I can’t help but think, “I said this to myself many times before— while cramming for something. Yet here I am, cramming again. What is it that is disturbing me?” and I questioned myself, which then made me think...

I have been trying to prevent this. Exactly this.

Of learning slowly. Of feeling inadequate. Of scaring to dive too deep into some concept in the field because I’m afraid to be confronted with how much I just don’t know. Science is not something like a fairytale, after all, you can’t rely on your creativity. REALLY, being creative will make you an amazing scientist but you can’t just randomly come up with silly ideas. You need to know a lot of background information to be able to actually get creative later. (For instance, one Nobel Prize went to the scientist who went, “Hey, why do we even try to kill a tumor cell all the time? Let’s inject something in it and make it stay there harmless because killing it doesn’t work.” That’s creative, but also requires a lot of background.) So when I see that there are fields I lack of knowing about my major it is a big humiliation to my pride, to the point I take it personalized, as if all my years in college went to a waste and I learnt nothing. That’s a terrifying feeling, not because of the college itself but some deep matters I don’t want to talk about. Therefore... I think I was just trying to avoid myself from having a breakdown, but then I had another breakdown. lol.

So I just looked up at the ceiling and asked myself, “So is that it? Am I going to feel this way for all my life? I know I am no longer heavily suicidal, and I have no plans of death, I do enjoy my daily activities too and I can laugh again, or feel passion for something... or many things. So, I am neither suicidal and depressed. But now this feels like anxiety. Not severe, but I find myself in a constant state of anxiety and I am so done with it. I know my reasons are valid enough to be worried— such as finances, accomplishments, grades etc., not paranoid things like “Did I leave the oven on” when I clearly did not, so it doesn’t match anxiety definitions either, and I am not feeling physically terrible either. But man I DO feel terrible. A month. It has been an entire month of tension and sadness and even if my reasons are valid they are just holding me back.”

Then I thought,

Why am I even so scared of breakdowns?

In past they scared me because I thought I couldn’t overcome them. I thought I couldn’t breathe. I thought I could do something to myself [throwback to present: I could never harm myself, I’m way too much of a self-lover in my core to ever do that even on my fucked up days, so this was a lie I told myself] if I kept having breakdowns.

Those are valid concerns for someone who is depressed and suicidal.

But I am no longer depressed and suicidal. For real. I do experience attacks (is that even a right term?) once in a while, depending on triggers and how much I perform in life. But it’s not the same. I can smile and laugh and actually enjoy life, both big and small things I look forward to, I can just sing and dance, or be so passionate about a story I write two hundreds pages of it with tight commitment (something ex me thought to be impossible), and so on.

So, breakdowns shouldn’t scare me anymore.

They are like bad dreams.

Nightmares.

Sure.

Breakdowns are a lot like nightmares. Disturbing. Irrational. Sometimes you know they are from something in real life but you know they are not REAL.

Neither can you prevent them.

You can be cautious, and maybe you won’t have nightmares. Maybe you will have some. But thing is...

I stopped resisting it.

I just let it come and go now. I ended up being like, “yes. Just pass quickly because I will be back to my LIFE”.

I had one of the worst nights of my life, but right now I am watching the sunrise. It’s time for sun to rise, really.

For the first time in a long time, I genuniely thought,

I had enough.

[i-see-thevision]

Pink Roses

Part of “Heaven or Hell” my Stray Kids Demon/Angel!au Series

Name: Han Jisung

Status: Guardian Angel

Special Abilities: Invisibility; Teleportation

Summary: Guardian Angels are given permission and expected to ‘protect by any means necessary’ when assigned a human. However, they are given one rule: Do not get attached. 

You were Jisung’s assigned human.

Word Count: 5.4k

Warnings: Mentions of death; Violence

• • •

“You have nothing to be afraid of, y/n.”

The thunder and lightning crackling in the distance was loud and horrifying and told you otherwise. And you were far too afraid to listen to your father.

“But what if the lightning hits the house!” You screamed when another crack of thunder struck.

“The lightning isn't going to hit the house, it’s miles and miles away from here.”

His words were meant to be comforting, but you were stubborn and chose not to believe him.

“Y/n dear, you’re nearly ten years old now. You’ll soon have a guardian angel to protect you from things like lightning.” Your grandmother chimed in from the kitchen.

“Mom, let’s not fill my daughter’s head with one of your made up stories please.” Your father sighed, flipping another page in the book he had been reading. Your grandmother came out of the kitchen looking highly offended.

“Stories? Excuse me, but I’ll have you know that I have met a guardian angel. And they are very much real.” She directed the last part at you.

“Nana, what’s a guardian angel?” You asked, your eyes full of hope and curiosity. Your father groaned, mumbling a ‘here we go’ under his breath, but you all caught it.

“My dear, you are given a guardian angel when you turn ten years old. And they are there to protect you when you can't protect yourself.” Your grandmother began to tell you. 

You couldn't help the smile that spread across your face.

Your grandmother was an avid believer in Guardian Angels. She even threw you a special ‘Coming of Age’ birthday party when you turned ten to “welcome your new guardian angel into your life.” At the time, you were just as an avid believer as she was. Any good thing that happened to you, you attributed to your ‘Guardian Angel.’

But then your grandmother passed away. And your belief went with her.

You were fourteen when she died. So it was four years she spent teaching you her beliefs. But since she passed, your father became your sole source of what and what not to believe. And the first thing he taught you was to rely on yourself.

Your father was a police officer. And he didn't want you to grow up thinking you could have your guard down because some mythical creature would protect you. Your father was realistic. Your father was practical.

Now you were eighteen, and heading off to college. Your father had instilled his mindset in you at this point. You didn't believe in silly fairytales. You relied only on yourself.

You were realistic. You were practical.

• • •

Unbeknownst to you, your grandmother was right. Guardian Angels did exist. And they were assigned a human.

However, there were some things your grandmother didn't know. One of which was the fact that not everyone was given a Guardian Angel. Only humans with pure hearts were given one. You were one of those humans. Now, out of those humans, they were only given one. If the Angel ever rebelled or was cast out of heaven, that human would remain without a Guardian. And if the human died, it’s Guardian would not be reassigned to another human. Guardian Angels were only given once chance.

When Jisung was assigned to you, he was told that he had to, by any means necessary, protect you from death. But only could he protect you from death. He was not to interfere with your life for any other reason than a life threatening one.

On top of that, he was given only one rule. Jisung recalls that day.

“Han Jisung. You have been assigned Y/n L/n. Protect her well. But do not get attached to her under any circumstances. Understood?”

He remembers that day like it was yesterday.

Jisung has been your Guardian Angel for almost eight years now. And as a child living at home, he didn't really have much to protect you from. He saved you from getting hit by a car one time, but that was about it. Anything trivial, like cutting your finger or breaking your arm, was taken care of by your father. He wasn't to interfere with trivial injuries. No matter how much he wanted to.

And he wanted to.

But now, you were leaving home. Leaving the safety of your father and heading off to college. Now was the time for Jisung to actually protect you. You were vulnerable, fragile, and young. Jisung remembers that this is the age that he died.

He doesn't like thinking about his death. Because it serves as a reminder that he isn't human. And that hurts him because, well... he’s in love with you.

He has been for almost almost two years now. And he remembers the exact moment he knew he was screwed.

It was the day he saved you from getting hit by that car.

It was two years ago. You were walking home alone from school. He had been tailing close behind you, a weird feeling flowing through him. He felt like you were in danger but he didn't see any around. Still, he felt he should keep an eye on you.

He didn't have to worry about you seeing him, he had the very convenient power of invisibility. Other Guardians that didn't have the power of invisibility envied those that did. It made protecting their humans much easier.

Jisung watched as you stopped at the cross walk, waiting for the indication light to turn white. He came to stand right next to you, listening as you hummed an unfamiliar tune. Sighing softy as you tugged on the tie of your school uniform. You still couldn't see him, had no idea he was there. You swayed back and forth and he couldn't help but smile.

You looked so cute like this. And you were so unaware of it. That was Jisung’s favorite part, you had no idea how absolutely adorable you were. He had grown exceptionally fond of you over the years. He found himself wishing he could just be human. He wished you would curl up into his chest with a book and hot chocolate, reading him the parts you liked best. He wished he could walk with you to school and back, maybe even while holding your hand. He wasn't sure why he was having these thoughts. He wasn't sure what this fondness towards you meant-

His thoughts were cut off by that feeling again, the feeling of you being in danger.

Everything went so fast. The cross walk light turned white, you stepped out onto the cross walk, and that car didn't stop. It only took a matter of seconds for Jisung to lock both his hands around your waist and pull you back onto the sidewalk.

The gasp that left your lips as you opened your eyes alerted Jisung to his slight mistake. You had most definitely felt that.

You spun around, expecting to see someone there. But no one was around. Your head turned and turned, looking for the person that had just pulled you back. But you were alone.

You stood there, completely dumbfounded. You had definitely just felt arms pull you back, hadn't you? Or did you imagine that? Is that even possible? No you definitely felt someone pull-

Then it hit you.

You spun around and looked in front of you. Your grandmother’s words echoing in your ears.

“Was that you?” You said out loud, seemingly directing your question into the air. But feeling as if it was directed in front of you, at someone in front of you.

You were looking right at him. But of course, you didn't know that. However Jisung did and he was astounded by the words leaving your mouth. He almost spoke, almost said yes. You were so incredibly smart. Another reason he was in-

Oh... Jisung paused, his thoughts connecting. He realized what this feeling had been. Why he was so fond of you.

He was in love with you.

It took everything in him not to show himself to you, right then and there. Not to confirm your suspicion. Not to just lean down and close the small gap between you two.

You were right there. Right there in front of him, looking right at him. And all he wanted to do was kiss you.

Fuck... fuck fuck fuck. Jisung what the hell are you doing? One rule. You had one rule! You’re fucked. You’re absolutely fucked.

Jisung teleported away from you in that moment. He left you there baffled and confused. But he needed to clear his head. He couldn't be that close to you anymore, he couldn't think straight.

From that day on, Jisung had to hide the fact that he was in love with you.

• • •

“Hey! You must be y/n!” You heard a cheery voice say in front of you, but your view of the person was obstructed by the large box you were carrying.

“Here, let me help you with that!” The cheerful voice continued as two hands came out the help you put the box down next to the others. Finally you got to see who the voice belonged to.

“Thank you, I think that was the last of them.” You smiled, dusting your hands off on your jeans.

“No problem, I’m Lisa!” The girl smiled, pulling you into an unexpected hug. You didn't reject it however, you welcomed the sudden friendliness and warmth she offered.

“I’m y/n, you must be the roommate?” You clarified, pulling away from the hug.

“Yes! And presumably your new best friend!” She beamed, her energy was indeed contagious. You liked the light and carefree feeling she gave you.

“Well alrighty, new best friend.” You laughed, feeling lighthearted. “What’s your major?” You asked.

“I’m a Dance major, how about you?” She replied as you both started to unpack your boxes. She was very pretty, cute bangs framing her face, petite figure. She was about your height, maybe an inch shorter.

“Studio Arts major.” You told her, pulling out the lava lamp that your grandmother gave you and setting it down carefully.

“Oh that’s so cool! So were both in The Artsy field!” She related. You responded with a smile and a “Huh, I guess that’s true.”

You were surprised by how quickly you became close to Lisa. It was quite interesting because she was almost the exact opposite of you, socially.

Lisa was this fun little social butterfly that everyone knew because she went to every single party on campus. You on the other hand, not so much. You preferred a coffee and a good book. While she found joy in the practice room and parties, you found solace in the art studio and the library.

But you both seemed to balance the other. You suppose that’s why you work so well together. She would force you out of the dorm in one of her dresses and a pair of her high heels and drag you to a party because she was determined to “show you a good time.” You would lend her one of your favorite books and drag her to the nearest café, insisting she needed to “experience quiet time.”

The dynamic worked well. And thanks to her, the first three months of college flew by and were filled with nothing but good times.

However, now it was exam week. And the laughter was replaced with hours and hours of studying, lack of sleep, and an unhealthy amount of caffeine. Saying you were beyond stressed was an understatement. And to top it all off it was absolutely freezing outside, and the three minute walk to the campus café felt like an eternity in the flurrying snow.

You pulled your hood down further over your face, the hem just barely reaching your nose. The snow flying at you made you rethink your location, the little white specks making you think you were in space. Cold, wet, unforgiving space filled with exams and demanding professors.

I hate this I hate this I hate this...

Finally you made it to the café, tugging the door open with so much force you thought you might pull the building off its foundation. Well, that was an exaggeration. But that’s how your mind was working right now. Due to the project you were working on for your Fine Arts class, your brain was constantly coming up with ridiculous scenarios and feelings. It was a stupid project... You had to come up with a painting that “showed an emotion no one has yet to feel.”

Now what the fuck am I supposed to do with that kind of direction?

You sighed, ordering your coffee and sitting down in one of the nearby booths to start brain storming ideas for this project.

• • •

Jisung watched as you sighed against the harsh wintery air. He was amused by how aggressively you pulled the door to the café open. He knew how stressed you were, with exam week and all. He wanted nothing more than to cuddle the stress out of you. Give you as many kisses as it took to calm you down. That’s all he wanted, to keep you safe, to keep you happy.

He sat there in the booth across from yours, his chin resting on his palm as he watched you write down an idea and then scribble it out, crumbling the piece of paper you wrote it on.

He had a couple ideas for your project, a couple of things he has felt himself. Things he is positive no other human could feel because well... he wasn't human. He wished he could share these thoughts with you, watch as you sigh in relief at now having an idea for your project. Grinning at your concentrated face while you paint away. Bringing you a coffee and a blanket to the art studio where you always are. Laugh as you jump up and down after receiving a perfect grade because how could you not. Smile as you jump into his arms from your excitement. Inhale your scent as he spins you around but not before setting you down and pulling you into a kiss. He wanted all of that, wanted you to know that he wanted all of that. He just wanted to be human. He just wanted to be yours...

But he couldn't.

• • •

You woke up to the sound of Lisa screaming.

Panic flooded your veins, followed by a feeling of dread as you threw on the nearest item of clothing and ran into the living room.

You found her kneeling by the door that was slightly ajar. Confusion now adding to the mixture.

“Li?” You called out, warily. She turned around with tears in her eyes.

“Y/n... I can’t believe he did this.” She turned back around, something was in her hands. But all your fear and confusion left when she turned all the way around.

She held a bouquet of flowers and a box of chocolates in her hands, the biggest smile gracing her lips.

“He is the cutest human being in the entire world! I can’t believe he did this! Oh my god am I crying? I’m crying!” She rambled, causing a sigh of both relief and slight irritation to leave your lips.

“Taehyung?” You asked, already knowing who she was talking about.

“Yes Taehyung! He is the best boyfriend in the world, I swear!” She cheered, hugging the flowers close to her chest.

You had to admit, it was adorable. Their relationship was adorable and it made your teeth hurt from how sweet he was to her. But that was what bothered you, it only reminded you what day it was. Your least favorite day of the year.

Valentine’s Day.

“He really is good to you, Li. It makes me happy to see you happy.” You smiled, taking the chocolates from her and putting them on the coffee table.

She grinned, placing the bouquet in a vase and turning to you.

“I know you hate Valentine’s Day... But I have a feeling that this year is the year you’re going you find that special someone~” She sang, nudging your side playfully. You laughed at her shenanigans.

“Lisa, you’re my special someone. I am just letting Taehyung have you because I’m a generous person.” You said in a mock serious tone, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“Right, right. And a very generous person you are.” She laughed along with you. “But I’m serious! I can feel it, you’re going to find a super cute guy who loves art and coffee and books and whatever else you are into.” She waved her hands around as if proving a point.

“Whatever you say, Li.” You smiled. “Whatever you say.”

• • •

Jisung was back in Heaven. You were sleeping soundly and out of harm’s way. So Jisung was writing in his daily log about possible future danger’s that could come your way, things that he would need to watch out for. It was a Guardian thing, preparing for the future.

However, his attention was brought to a presence approaching him.

“Jisung, how are you doing?” It was Kim Woojin, another Guardian. But he was a little different than other Guardians. He wasn't assigned a specific human to protect. He was a ‘Special Guardian’ assigned to protect humans in general.

In other words, he was a pretty big deal.

“Same as always. You?” Jisung replied, trying to be focused on the other Angel but that was hard with you on his mind.

“I’m doing good, however I come with some not so good news.” Woojin says, catching Jisung’s full attention now. Did he know?

“What do you mean?” He asked, trying to seem nonchalant. But inside, a knot was forming in his stomach.

“It’s about your human, y/n.” Woojin clarifies. Jisung stilled, looking up from his log book slowly. His chest filling with dread. His mind trying to figure out where he slipped up. How could anyone know? It’s not like he told anyone that he broke the only rule Guardian Angel’s have.

“What about her?” He questioned, letting his concern show a bit more than he intended.

“Have you heard of the Demon, Seo Changbin?” He asked, which caught Jisung off guard. That is not was he was expecting. Though he’d be lying if he said he wasn't relieved.

“Seo Changbin... I believe so. He’s the photokinetic one, right?” Jisung asked for clarification. He suddenly didn't like where this conversation was going, for a completely different reason than before.

“Yes that one. He’s also notorious for killing humans...” Woojin explains. Jisung suddenly connects the dots. “And he has being spotted in your human’s area, recently.” Woojin finishes.

Jisung stands from his seated position. Knowing what Woojin was saying. “I understand, thank you for the warning.” He bowed.

“You’re welcome, Jisung. Protect her well.” He said before turning and leaving. Probably to tell other Guardians with humans in the same area.

Jisung immediately shifted back to earth.

• • •

You sat in the Library, reading ‘Milk and Honey.’ You were almost half way through it and already decided it would be one of your favorites.

It made you think about a lot of things. But mainly, it made you think about your grandmother.

You missed her. And you missed the fairytales she would tell. You missed the way she filled your mind with infinite possibilities. There was this light and floaty feeling that flowed through you when you still believed the things she believed. 

You tried pulling the essence from the book into your heavy heart. Tried turning the bitter memories into sweet ones. Your mind drifted back to the day you almost got hit by that car. To the day you were almost positive your grandmother was telling the truth all along.

“The Library is closing, Miss.” A voice above you said, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” You apologized, not realizing it was already dark out. You grabbed your bag and stood up, facing the Librarian. 

“No need to apologize. It’s nice to see that kids like yourself are still entertained by books.” She smiled, picking up a pile of stray books from the other tables. You smiled and nodded, wishing her a good night before leaving the Library. 

• • •

Jisung walked around the perimeter of the Library.

He was determined to keep you safe. And if that meant staying here until midnight, that’s exactly what he would-

“Ah, Han Jisung.” A voice sounded, causing Jisung to snap his head toward the voice.

It was him. The Photokinetic Demon.

“Seo Changbin.” Jisung acknowledged, his presence alone making him uneasy.

“So you know who I am?” The Demon smirks, narrowing his eyes at the Angel.

Jisung hummed in agreement, not wanting to feed into whatever the Demon was getting at.

“I hear you’ve been assigned a human?” He raised an eyebrow. “And I’m assuming she’s in this building, hm?” Changbin tapped the old brick building of your campus’ Library. 

Jisung’s skin crawled at the way the Demon spoke. 

“I don’t know what you’re doing here, but you’re not laying a hand on her.” Jisung stood tall, ready to take Changbin on if he had to. 

“Ah, but where’s the fun in that?” Changbin took a challenging step forward. “Besides, you’re not going to be a much of a problem.” 

Jisung took a step back, a bit unsettled by the Demon’s statement. There was only one thing that could incapacitate almost all supernatural creatures. And that was Demonized Iron. The only supernatural creature it didn't affect was demons themselves. 

Jisung watched as Changbin pulled out a small dagger, glowing a feint red color. And he couldn't even react before it was lodged in his abdomen. 

Everything went black.

• • •

The March air was brisk, a little warmer, but still worthy of a coat. You tugged your coat closer, zipping it up all the way to meet your chin. The slight mist in the air alerted you to the possible oncoming rain storm. You remembered hearing that it was supposed to rain tonight, but hoped that maybe you could will the rain away. As much as you loved the rain, you'd rather not have to walk back to the dorms in it. 

But alas, willing the rain away did not seem to work as it began down pouring halfway to your dorm. 

“Seriously?” You yelled into the sky. You mentally scolded yourself for not wearing a coat with a hood. 

The walk seemed twice as long now that you were practically drowning on the way there. You kept your head angled down, trying to see the sidewalk you were walking on. Your hand shielded your eyes from the droplets that began feeling like needles. 

A scream left your lips as all of the street lamps around you suddenly blew out all at once. 

“Are you kidding me?” You yelled rhetorically. 

“No I’m not.” 

You screamed again, falling to the ground as you were not expecting anyone to answer. The voice was low and dark. You couldn't see anything, couldn't make out who the voice belonged to. 

But you could make out the hand that was now wrapped around your throat.

• • •

Jisung woke to an ear splitting scream. 

Your ear splitting scream.

His body jolting to a standing position before he looked down, noticing the dagger sticking out of his torso. He also noticed it was absolutely pouring now. With an angry growl, Jisung pulled the dagger out of his body and ran in the direction of your scream. 

Fear ran through his veins. Complete and utter dread. He could barely see anything in the pouring rain. 

But he didn't need to see to know where you were. He always knew where you were. You were his human.

Jisung found you being held in the air, Changbin’s hand around your throat. Your feet kicking as you held onto the Demon’s arm, gasping for air. Immediately Jisung threw the dagger he pulled out of himself at the Demon. Jisung smirked as the blade dug into the skin of the Demon’s back. Might not knock him out, but it’ll still hurt like a bitch. He watched Changbin yell, his grip on your throat faltering, you landing on the ground in effect. 

You coughed frantically, trying to wrap your head around what was happening. You rolled over and could just barely make out the person who had just been choking you. Another boy was on top of him, his fist pounding into the others face repeatedly. 

Your breath left your body as the boy being punch suddenly disappeared from underneath the other. 

Jisung stood up, angry that the Demon shifted back to hell most likely. But his anger left him as he turned to you. Immediately he dropped to his knees, picking you up and cradling you in his arms. 

“I’m so sorry. I should have been here.” Jisung hugged you closer, stroking your hair. Tears began welling in his eyes. “Please tell me you’re okay, y/n. Please say you’re okay.” 

You were beyond confused, you thought for a second that maybe this was a dream. Who was this boy and how did he know your name? More importantly, how did he know you were being attacked by some guy? How did he know to come and s- 

You stilled. 

“It’s you, isn't it?” You asked meekly. Not sure if you were hallucinating or not. Maybe you were just crazy, but this felt so real. 

It was Jisung’s turn to still. 

“You’re the one that saved me from the car that day, aren't you?” You clarified, looking at the boy in the eyes now. He was cute, looked about your age, looked completely relived that you were okay. It had to be him.

Jisung nodded, realizing what this meant now. You knew he was real. You knew it was him. And there was no way he could just disappear now. 

“You’re my Guardian Angel.” You stated, not phrasing as if it was a question, because it wasn't. You were stating what you now knew as a fact.

Jisung couldn't respond, he was busy trying to find a way out of this. But the next words that left your lips melted his heart.

“I’m sorry I stopped believing in you.” You said, tears welling in your own eyes. “Thank you for everything.” You leaned forward and wrapped your arms around his torso, hugging him tight as you cried into his chest. 

Jisung couldn’t stop himself from pulling you closer. He wasn't expecting this reaction from you. He wasn’t expecting to let you see him at all but seeing Changbin, he just lost it. He had one thing on his mind and that was to protect you. But now you knew. 

“I wasn't supposed to let you see me...” Jisung finally found his voice. And you couldn't explain why but, his voice filled you with warmth. You felt at ease despite what you just went through. Despite the freezing rain pouring down on the both of you. 

“I figured that.” You said honestly, lifting your head up to look him in the eyes. “But I’m glad you did.” You had a sudden urge to kiss the boy who’s been protecting you all these years. 

So you did.

Jisung’s eyes went wide when your lips met his briefly. Looking at you in shock when you pulled away shortly after, reconnecting eye contact. 

“I know this is probably super confusing and super sudden, but I can’t explain this feeling I have right now. And- well actually I should be the one who’s confused but for whatever reason I’m not. I just know that all this time I have had this feeling deep down that you were real and that I just wanted to meet you and now you’re here and you’re like really super cute and warm and your voice makes feel safe and I think-”

You were cut off by Jisung pressing his lips to yours. Your eyes fluttered shut as you softened into the kiss. He gently held your chin, tilting your head to further deepen the kiss. The rain intensifying the moment all the more. You felt like crying and jumping for joy all at the same time. 

Jisung parted briefly to whisper ‘hold on tight.’ To which you wrapped your arms around his neck, confused but nonetheless obedient. Suddenly you were standing in the Library. It was completely abandoned as it was nearly midnight. All the lights were off except for the emergency ones eliciting a soft glow in the room. 

“How did you just do that?” You looked back at the literal Angel in front of you. And you could now make out his face better, and oh my god was Angel and understatement. 

“Teleportation, Angel thing.” Jisung chuckled. But then his face got serious. 

“You okay?” You asked softly. Jisung took a step closer to you, taking your hands in his. He lifted his head slightly to meet your eyes.

“When I became your Guardian...” Jisung paused, trying to force out his next words. “I was given one rule. And that was to not fall in love with you.” 

The air filled with silence. You weren't sure of what to say. But you knew how you felt. And suddenly Lisa’s words on Valentine’s Day filled you head. You’d find your special someone this year. Well he felt like your special someone. And that’s really all you cared about right now.

“So what happens now?” You asked, tentatively. 

“You know, you’re taking this so much better than I ever thought you would.” He chuckled, his hands coming up to cradle your face. 

“I can’t explain it but, I feel like I’ve known you for years.” You smiled, holding onto one of his hands with your own. 

“Well in a way, you have.” He took another step closer, there was barely any space between you two now. Emotion was bubbling in your chest.

“I feel like I’m in love with you and I don’t even know your name.” You blurted out. You watched as a smile broke out on the Angel’s face. A beautiful, beautiful smile.

“Jisung.” He said softly, leaning down to capture your lips again.

This kiss seemed different than the other two. More meaning was poured into the simple action. You both were on the same page now. Even if it wasn't directly put out there, you both knew what the other was thinking. 

Jisung swiped his tongue across your bottom lip, a grin etched on your face as you granted him entrance. Your fingers laced through his incredibly soft hair, tugging lightly. He tilted your head like before, but this time the kiss grew more passionate. It was slow and heated, it’s like Jisung wanted to memorize every part of your mouth. It felt like nothing you’ve ever experience before. It felt like you were meant to find him, even though he’s really the one who found you. It felt like perfection.

A content sigh left your lips as he tugged on your bottom lip with his teeth, releasing the plump flesh slowly as he broke from the kiss, allowing you to breathe. 

Your chest heaved, your eyes still closed, your mind spinning. 

“I’m so completely in love with you and I don’t care if my wings get taken. I’ll protect you, Guardian or not.” Jisung confessed. You suddenly felt guilt swirling in your chest.

“Jisung, I don’t want to be the reason you get kicked out of heaven...” You admitted quietly, your attention focusing on the floor beneath you. But not for long as Jisung’s index finger slowly tilted your head back up to meet his gaze. A warm expression gracing his beautiful features.

“If Earth is where you are, then I don’t ever want to see heaven again.” Jisung smirked. The action almost sent you into cardiac arrest, you swear. 

“I love you, y/n. And that’s all that matters.” He said quieter. That feeling from before bubbled in your chest again.

“I love you, Jisung.” You smiled, and with that he pulled you into his warm embrace.

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted to hear.” He mumbled against your hair. You smiled into his chest, loving the way he smelled. 

“You know, I have some ideas for that art project of yours.” He suddenly piped up. You laughed, tugging him along to the art studio where you continued to stay up for hours working on your project with Jisung by your side. Where the night was saturated with stories and laughter and many many kisses. Where Jisung finally got to be with you the way he’s always wanted to be. 

And it only continued after that, your days being filled with the now Fallen Angel that you call your boyfriend, the love of your life...

Your Guardian.

• • •

A/N: WELL THAT WAS AN EMOTIONAL ROLLERCOASTER. Thank you for reading the third installment in this series! Jisung is my little baby omg this made me so happy and sad to write. ANYWAYS Changbin my bias is up next!  you see why you needed to read this one first now yeah you do.

[lostinthewinterwood]

Gen Freeform Exchange 2020

Hey friend!

I’m looking forward to whatever you’re going to make for me—if you want to take what was in my sign-up and run with it, go right ahead!  But if you’re looking for more inspiration/ideas, keep right on reading.

If you’re not my assigned person, and are instead a generous person looking at this letter for treating purposes, I’d be happy to get treats in any medium.

General DNW

Rape/non/dub-con; non-canonical major character death; heavy angst; hurt no comfort; graphic depictions of deliberate and methodical self-harm*; graphic depictions of suicide; anything E rated; gore; heavy gender dysphoria; grimdark; complete downer endings; character bashing; incest; cringe comedy; a/b/o; mpreg; full setting AUs (canon-divergence is fine); graphic eye trauma; graphic and/or permanent hand trauma (unless the setting can provide a more-or-less fully functional prosthetic or equivalent); issuefic; unrequested identity headcanons.

*I don’t include things like, say, punching a wall in a fit of emotion under this. however, something like cutting would not be appreciated.

 General Likes

– I really like plotty fics

– Secret identity and disguise shenanigans, the more layers to them and more absurdity the better.

– Crossdressing for whatever reason and gender disguises, also for whatever reason.

– Time travel and time loops are always fun, especially as a fix-it.  I have a general preference for Peggy Sue style (aka, an older character getting put back in their younger body at an earlier point in the timeline) over the character’s physical body stepping back in time, but either one is good.

– A focus on family and/or friendship, especially characters realizing they’re not nearly as alone as they think they are, and just generally characters who like each other and enjoy spending time together

– Found family; families of choice

– Character studies

– Worldbuilding

All of my requests have way too many tags to relist them here, but if you’re at a loss for what to do, anything in a given request’s tags is obviously fair game; don’t feel bound by them either, since I’m definitely interested in more things than just those which appear in the tag requests.

 Fandom-specific prompts and DNWs

 Mother of Learning

Fandom-specific DNW: physical parental abuse within the Kazinski family, significant exaggeration of canonical emotional neglect/abuse/general family dysfunction, any implication or presence of romantic and/or sexual Zach/Zorian, either Raynie or the rest of her tribe being portrayed as Absolutely Right And Entirely Justified in all of their actions

 Neoluma-Manu Iljatir & Zach Noveda

Solo: Zach Noveda

Zach Noveda & Zorian Kazinski

Fanfiction

I’d generally prefer something set at least in part after the time loop begins, but beyond that I don’t have a strong preference for where in the timeline this might be set.  Maybe something from before Zorian got looped in—maybe one of the iterations where Zach and Neolu just went off across the country having fun the whole month? Zach doing whatever, possibly very early on, or maybe him freaking out a little because what the hell, time travel is supposed to be impossible, and yet—what did he do in the start? Some canon-type shenanigans with Zach and Zorian together because there aren’t lasting consequences to their actions?

Or for post-canon, I’d really like an exploration of Zach, who’s got the lived-time of a middle-aged man and the body of a teenager—how does he relate to his classmates/other people in the real world, where everyone’s growing again?  Maybe something about his lawsuit against his caretaker, or just a little thing with him, Zorian, and How Do You Live Normally, Again?  This Is Hard, or some such thing.

One tag I like especially—though obviously if you didn’t match on it you needn’t include it—is “Character expected to die but didn’t and now has no idea how to live anymore,” since Zach definitely didn’t fully expect he would get a chance to live through the rest of his adolescence/adulthood, and something delving into that would be really interesting!

 Raynie & Raynie’s Tribe

Raynie & Kiana

Fanfiction, Podfic

I love Raynie, and I love the little glimpses we get into her character and her past in canon!

For her I was thinking maybe something after the invasion, maybe her going home again.  I’d love to see a reconciliation between her and her tribe, and a settling of the issues and problems that led to her being sent away.

If I’ve got my timeline right, her brother should be old enough to have reasonable interactions with; I’d really enjoy something dealing with the tension between them, letting them reconcile and build a better sibling relationship.

Alternatively, if we’re going for pre-canon, I’d really enjoy something dealing with her initial arrival in Cyoria and befriending Kiana.

 Cikan Kazinski & Kirielle Kazinski

Solo: Kirielle Kazinski

Nochka Sashal & Kirielle Kazinski

Zorian Kazinski & Kirielle Kazinski

Fanfiction

I’d really like something focusing on Kirielle here—she is, after all, the uniting factor in this set of requests.

I’ve got a few ideas for what could come of this!

-- Kirielle and her mother.  For this one, I’d rather it not be anything where Cikan can be described as “winning” a confrontation—I’d much rather have it be a confrontation where it either ends neutrally or in Kiri’s favor, or a reconciliation when Kiri’s a bit older, coming to understand each other better.  I’d be down for Cikan realizing that Kiri is her own person, and can forge her own way in life, if you can get a story there, but I’m not sure if there’s an in-character way to do so, given how she still relates to Daimen, a successful adult in his own right.

-- Kirielle and Nochka.  They’re adorable and I’d love a further development of their friendship, especially getting to see it grow and develop over the months and years after the invasion.

-- Kirielle and Zorian.  I love their dynamic!  And again here I’d really enjoy seeing their relationship developing in real time, rather than a constantly looping world.  I think it would be great to see either of them defending the other to their parents—and maybe Zorian ends up with custody of Kiri, there’s definitely things to explore there.

-- Kirielle.  I’d be here for any sort of character study of Kiri, really, but I’m gonna prompt a few specific things anyway.

---- She grows up a little, and becomes a student mage—what’s that like for her, especially having received Zorian’s tutelage?

---- She grows up a little, and doesn’t seriously pursue magic—does she devote herself more seriously to art?  Do something else?  Get away from her parents, and get to just be a kid for a little longer than her siblings?

---- By some mechanism, Kirielle gets pulled into the time loop, whether with Zorian, instead of him, or in some utterly unrelated incident. What’s it like to grow older and older in life experience while your body remains stubbornly nine?  How does this change the story?  If you go this route I’d rather looper!Kiri not be erased in the timeline of the fic—ending the fic before it becomes an issue or letting her escape back to the real world are what I’d rather see.

---- For some reason—there’s actually a fair amount that’d have to change here, but shhh this is my ridiculous self-indulgent prompt—Kirielle is the Controller.  How does she react to being in a looping world, with no one else looping she can possibly compare notes with?  What does she do with her time?  Why did the angels choose her?  How does this impact canon—is Jornak even a problem, does the whole Sovereign Gate affair pass much as it was meant to rather than the debacle that became of it in canon?

 Solo: The Ghost Serpent

Solo: Quatach-Ichl

Fanfiction, Podfic

So, these two are just… they’re old.  They’re very old; QI, the younger, is still a thousand years old, and they’ve just seen so much??  I’d love some sort of exploration of the world’s history through either of their eyes.

For the Ghost Serpent, I’d be very interested in what it saw the other Branded Ones do that put it off of them so badly.

For QI, I’m interested both in the world history around him and also how he became what he is—why/how did he become a lich in the first place?  Who was he before?  Why did he get a divine blessing?  What did he think of the gods falling silent?  What was the Necromancer’s War like?

For this prompt, I’d be down for an in-universe document or legend/folktale/fairytale about them, rather than an ordinary narrative. I’d also definitely be down for something like an epic poem or story-song, if you feel so inclined.

  Star Wars Rebels

Alexsandr Kallus & Garazeb “Zeb” Orrelios

Fanfiction

I’m a total sucker for the enemies-to-allies redemption arc that Kallus and Zeb have going and really, anything exploring that dynamic I’d be down for.  Post-Honorable Ones is probably better—there’s a bit more to work with there—but mutual respect/grudging acknowledgement from before that point would be great too.

That being said, I would also be super down for one or both of them mentally travelling back in time and whatever ridiculous shenanigans emerge from that—honestly most of my tags can be interpreted as prompts for that, if you squint at least.

  Star Wars Rebels: Servants of the Empire

 Solo: Zare Leonis

Solo: Dhara Leonis

Zare Leonis & Dhara Leonis

Fanfiction

These poor kids, god.  I love them and I love their siblingship and I just, I want more. A lot of the freeforms I’m asking for are geared towards the aftermath of Secret Academy, and Dhara’s recovery and her relationship with Zare throughout that.  Do feel free to bring in their parents, too, though it’s by no means necessary.

Other things I’d be interested in include various types of role reversals and how that changes things—maybe it’s Zare who’s older, with a Force-sensitive little sister in Dhara, or the ages are the same and the Force sensitivity is flipped, or maybe Zare’s Force sensitive as well as Dhara, or the ages and Force sensitivity are flipped, making Zare Force sensitive and older and Dhara not force sensitive as well as being younger.

Another interesting thing would be exploring Zare readjusting to a civilian life; he’s quite conditioned into being so careful and military in his dress and his living space—does he keep that going? Let it fade?  Deliberately reject it?

 Solo: Lieutenant Chiron

Zare Leonis & Lieutenant Chiron

Fanfiction, Podfic

I love Chiron, he’s such an interesting character, and I am Big Sad that he doesn’t appear in any fics on ao3 as of yet.  He strikes me very much as a good man who doesn’t really know most of the bad things his government is doing; he cares about Zare and he cares that there’s abuses of power and murder going on at the academy; he truly, genuinely wants to make the galaxy a better place.

I would love to see a story where he lives through the climax of Secret Academy and, however that happens, is thus forced to question his government from that, since I’m also Big Sad that he died before he had that chance; failing that it would be interesting to have a fic exploring his past and how he came to be part of the imperial war machine, I think.

For him and Zare post-canon, assuming an AU where they both survive, I’d be down to see them rebuilding the relationship they had before and regaining some sort of trust/regard for each other.

  Original Works

Fandom-specific DNW: the word “queerplatonic” being used to describe relationships (writing something that you’d normally consider it is fine!  I just don’t really like the term), fics that are All About Being Trans And/Or Disabled, neopronouns, nondysphoric trans characters.

 Archmage & Apprentice

Failed Chosen One & New Chosen One

Girl Who Killed The Dark Lord & Her New Inherited Minions Who She Would Like To Be Less Scared

Fanfiction

I love fantasy, including space fantasy, and so many of its associated tropes: magic, destiny and fate and the subversion thereof, people being fundamentally human whilst caught up in something far beyond them…

This one’s a bit harder to prompt for, but looking through the tags I asked for should give you a decent idea for what I like; see also the general likes section above.

Thank you for creating for me!! I’m sure whatever you make will be lovely, and I’m looking forward to seeing it :D

[aspenwardlowell]

hello again, it’s pepper, you know the same girl her posted her first intro hours ago and got too lazy to write up the second one until just before midnight?? love this for me. solid time management on my part. anyways lmao down bellow will be a bit about aspen, she’s kind of new though so you bet this is gonna be a whole ass mess. 

[ MUSE #101 ] ●● is that NANA KOMATSU? no, that’s just ASPEN WARD-LOWELL, the 18 year old CISFEMALE who is a HIGH SCHOOL SENIOR. some say they’re ODD AND FICKLE, but their family and friends will swear they’re CREATIVE AND DEPENDABLE. when i think of them, i think of the glow of a laptop screen in the dark, neat cursive scrawl, a tongue peeking out from between teeth, pastel pens assorted by colour, and intricate coding. i wonder if HER family knows that SHE HAS NO PLANS TO GO INTO THE MEDICAL FIELD, OR EVEN TO COLLEGE. ●● ( pepper && twenty two && est && she/her)

aspen was adopted before she can remember. she never really knew her birth parents and honestly, she never really felt the need to seek them out or find out more about them. her mothers were the only parents she ever knew or really ever needed, so she saw no reason to be curious. 

that said, her mothers are now single handedly ruining her concept of love. for the longest time aspen believed in fairytales and grand romances but now that her parents marriage is falling apart she thinks the entire concept of love is a sham

for years aspen got impeccable grades without really even trying, but seeing as aspen is kind of more of an adrenaline junkie than a sheep she but she quickly got bored of that and started anonymously selling her work online for money. she’s actually made a whole website for it tbh, because surprisingly this homecoming queen is actually pretty techy. at gradeupgrade.com you can get an essay of whatever length and grade you need for low, low prices. she has yet to be caught and she plans to keep it that way. honestly she has the perfect cover. 

at school aspen is kind of That Bitch. very much the ice queen, she can be a bit shallow and a bit mean on her worst days, and sometimes on her best but dfkjfdjfd underneath all that crap lays a heart (???) that only her family really sees. she is fiercely loyal and will pull through for those she cares about no matter what (even if she might complain) but yeah most people only see her being a raging bitch. she does put on a pretty air tight facade at school though, seeing as she is also head cheerleader and ruling the school with an iron fist, like that’s aspen atm. running for prom queen, and she thinks she’s a shoe in.

she parties a lot, drinks a lot, will take most drugs as long as they’re not hard drugs. 

is actually lowkey a hardcore gamer. i don’t think anyone but her siblings really know about it but yeah, aspen loves video games and has actually been making one of her own on the side. she mostly programs it at night, though she doesn’t really know what to do when she finishes it. 

dates around a lot but gets bored really easily, so most of her relationships don’t last more than a couple of months. tends to be kind of erratic in her behavior sometimes, like she will occasionally play the crazy girlfriend just to fuck with whoever she’s dating (asking to go through their phone only to program it to automatically send ‘me so horny’ whenever they receive a text), mostly because she’s never invested in the relationship 

plans to get the heck out of town as soon as she graduates. she doesn’t really know where she’s going to go but she figures that’s the fun of it. 

honestly doesn’t really know who she is, and she isn’t actively trying to figure it out. she figures she’ll just party and mess with people until she dies. 

when it comes to aspen’s own assignments she now puts in the bare minimum. she gets C’s or B’s if she even bothers to hand anything in. Usually she’ll write things up last minute and sign it with a lipstick stain just to annoy her teachers. 

Has taken gymnastics for years, and is a flyer on the cheerleading team because this binch is tiny. 

Is actually kind of considering joining the circus as an acrobat instead of going to uni. Like she’s legitimately considering this.

Is kind of afraid of living a boring life tbh, which is why she tries so hard to make her own life interesting. 

Can and will hack the hell out of you if you cross her. 

Very morally grey. 

And I think that’s it, thank you for getting to the end of this mess. 

WANTED PLOTS ;

exes - aspen is hella bi so this is open to everyone. i feel like i’d love some exes who aspen was just with because she was bored so she messed with them a lot, maybe an ex who was also messed with her in return, maybe a BIG EX who she actually had feelings and dipped out of fear of them because that’s always fun

someone who she sells homework too - aspen would know who they are but they wouldn’t know who she is, so i feel like it could be fun. daisy

party buddy/ride or die - aspen is wild most of the time, and she sneaks out of the house to party a lot so someone who matches her ‘here for a good time not a long time energy’ would be great. miles, aria

minions - someone who aspen kind of considers the gretchen and karen to her regina if you know what i mean. these people would likely be on the cheer squad. skylar

fwbs, best friends, childhood friends who actually understand aspen (good luck cause this bitch barely understands herself), neighbors maybe?

[whatscallion]

reply i.

COFFEE/COLLEGE AU: POV - Natasha Romanoff - a reply to THIS starter from @cptsteven because we live for AUs that aren’t serious at all. this is probably one of our first ones? i think we’re on #984375 au right now. enjoy! 

Sugar Ray was playing overhead, talking about the halo on his girlfriend’s four post bed, setting that of a casual air. The music of the nineties generally reigned supreme when Natasha Romanoff was working behind the counter at The Grind, the main hangout for any and all students of the college nearby. There were usually bouts of busy times around lunch, and especially around midterm season. It was damn near unbearable when it was finals season, though she had never worked during that time. Natasha had her own classes to prepare for, but fortunately enough, they were in a pleasant lull between massive tests. It left a pleasant air about the town, just in time for the leaves to start turning colors in their Autumn display.

Crisp and cool, the air beyond the warmth of the coffee shop held its own kind of comfort in its own way, beckoning forth warm knit sweaters and wool socks. Loose beanies and wind-bitten cheeks. Scarves and mittens. It was a change in weather that made people feel cozy without them really even noticing, and the constant heat from the espresso machines not only made the place inviting, it gave life to the already decadent scent of brewing coffee. It was a time of year that had one thankful for their position in life, no matter the impending doom of midterms or tests or quizzes.

There had been a shift in the air as of late, within the small cafe, and it didn’t go unnoticed - not by Natasha and certainly not by her coworkers. The presence of a college student every morning had become more and more noticeable, to the point of casual ribbing from her cohorts, which only begged the question: why did he come to the shop just for black coffee? On occasion, he’d order something that required more elaboration, but more often than not, it was just plain black coffee, something he could’ve easily gotten at the cafeteria on campus.

Steve. That’s what Scott had told her his name was. Tall, blonde, artistic - he was an easy kind of person to grow soft for, and it was even easier to see the way heads turned when he was around. Yet it didn’t seem like he noticed - not when she happened to see him from afar at the college. Oblivious to his own prowess, and it made him humble, almost like he were some kind of fairytale prince. The sudden comparison had Natasha scoffing at her own thoughts, very thankful the sound of steamed milk drowned it out, for Scott was far too nosey to let things like that slide. Not so much a Prince Eric or Prince Phillip - more unconventional, like Hercules. Needless to say, Disney’s Hercules was swiftly watched upon the realization. The biased nature towards the new regular at the shop was slow burning, yet it was becoming painfully obvious. He needn’t even order for Natasha to even start on his coffee the moment he walked in. She even went through the trouble of actually making herself look more presentable that early in the morning, a task that wasn’t that much of a rigor. A swipe of mascara. A quick blow-dry of her hair. Small things that she didn’t think made that much of a difference.

“What can I do for you, Sam?” It was important to know names in the business of coffee, since that’s generally what customers wanted: to be in a place where their name was known, like they were special.

“Just a mocha. Don’t care about the size. Hey, you’re in my accounting class, right? Wednesdays with Isaiah, right?” The redhead was looking away from her sudden customer, writing down an order on the cup with a Sharpie marker. The small talk gifted him a glance of bright emerald before moving to the register.

“I thought that was you,” she responded with an amicable smile. “It’s an alright class but...definitely just a prerequisite for my actual major.” The total flashed before them and Sam dug out the appropriate change.

“Yeah, Gen Ed can be a bitch, huh?” Nat’s reply came by way of a small snicker and a nod before she turned to work on his drink.

Stolen glances at Sam and Steve were taken, yet she didn’t do anything more than what was necessary. She was being paid to make coffee, not make eyes at customers. It genuinely sucked how much of a distraction they became, just by being there. Natasha was more thankful that Scott had the day off, knowing full well he wouldn’t let her live down anything. If he didn’t hit on her constantly, Scott would’ve been more like an annoying little brother to her.

Two days, three ballet classes and a multitude of nonsensical general education classes later, and Natasha was being bored to death in the infamous accounting class. Something about how happiness was translated into something called “utility” and that there was an actual measurement called “utils”. How could one even measure the happiness gained from an action or object, then comparing it to the cost to see if it was even worth it? This was making something so much more complicated, to a point where it was beyond that of a microscope. While Isaiah was passionate about accounting, it didn’t matter to his students. This was, without a doubt, incredibly boring to someone who wasn’t even going to school for numbers. It was torture in the form of two classes, each about two hours along.

This was it. This was Natasha’s Hell in the form of needless academia.

“....And that about sums up the general usage of utility and the subsequent utils. Don’t forget to read chapter 14 and complete the required questions at the end of the chapter. I’m still waiting on some analyses from some of you. Each day is another percentage point taken off, so please turn them in. This is my job, after all.”

After finishing up a page of mundane doodling, centering around a game of MASH gone awry, the class was finally over and the rest of her afternoon was free. Wednesdays were generally meant for mid-week assignments to get caught up on, as well as casual social interactions. There’d been rumblings of the fraternities throwing parties the following weekend, sparking the beginning of a very long, very exhausting homecoming season. Though Natasha specialized in the graceful art of ballet, it was safe to assume she was also on the dance squad. It was an easy way to maintain rhythm and flexibility.

“Are you going to Delta’s thing this weekend?” Hope, a somewhat close-ish friend, had made a point to be in the same class as her, mostly so they could rely on one another to stay focused. They decided being friends could make up for the fact that they made out once at a party. Whoops. “They’re doing it a week early so they don’t get popped again this year.”

“Delta, huh?” Parties weren’t really Natasha’s scene, generally opting to working the late shift at the coffee shop in order to have a good excuse not to go. “Delta’s the worst frat on campus, I thought.”

“You mean, the best because their parties are always balls to the walls? Yeah, Saturday. You should go. Who knows? You might actually have fun.”

“Maybe, but I’ll have to look at the schedule.”

“I swear to god, if you change your schedule again to not go, I’m going to call in a bomb threat on The Grind so you can’t have that excuse.” The girl was quick to know things and use them against whoever she could in order to gain a semblance of an advantage. Unfortunately, Nat wasn’t on her game as of late.

They were getting ready to go when--

Shit. She could pick out that combination of towering height and blonde hair anywhere. Suddenly, Hope wasn’t really there, and it all felt like a Disney movie again.

Stop it. You’re working yourself up. He just comes in for coffee. Probably doesn’t even know your name without your nametag on.

Quit acting like such a girl. .

[missytearex]

It’s that time again! I’ve had a lot of free time to read this month, so I think this is gonna be a good one. Here are my favourites!

________________________________________________________________

Larry

~ you came into my life by disgruntledkittenface | @disgruntledkittenface (57k)

Summary: They stand around talking for a minute and then Jonathan starts to ramble, “Has there ever been, like, an unrequited gay love story in here? Like a Brokeback Mountain moment where, like, someone just fell in love and they didn’t mean to?”

Louis feels bile rise in his throat as Jonathan’s eyes sparkle, pleading for a yes. He manages to look around and see thoughtful looks on his coworkers’ faces before their heads shake no.

“Not here,” Liam says finally.

When the Queer Eye cast and crew sweep into Louis’ small town and fire station to make over his best friend and coworker Liam, Louis’ carefully constructed walls start to fall down and he has to face his fears – and the only guy he’s ever been able to see a future with.

My comment: This one is making it as one of my ALL TIME favourite fics. I completely fell in love with every single character! You can clearly see how Louis gets something different from each of his relationships with the different characters and it is absolutely stunning. Louis’ internal struggle is really well written and I just wanted to give him a hug! Also, I started watching Queer Eye after reading this.

________________________________________________________________

Lilo

~ Which One Of Us Is Caving by wasp | @apayneinthearse (18k)

Summary: Liam doesn't regret hiring Louis, it's the furthest thing from it. He's clever and quick-witted and he's good with people in a way Liam never was. It's amazing, he's amazing and Liam doesn't understand how he survived so long without him. In the professional sense.

My comment: I reeeeeeeeaaaally love slow burn fics! And I mean Louis as Liam’s cheeky assistant? Perfect.

________________________________________________________________

Lirry

~ fishing in the dark by countthestars | @moondoggiestyle (12k)

Summary: Liam is the night janitor at a clandestine research facility, and Harry is its best kept secret.

My comment: This story is probably as realistic as you can get with mermaid fic. I didn’t expect to love it as much as I did. It’s so beautifully written and emotional - I actually wanted to cry at some point. This fic is a gift and you should read it.

________________________________________________________________

Narry

~ by your side by littlervoice | @littlervoice (8k)

Summary: “What does Niall look like?”

“Why don’t you ask him yourself?” Zayn counters. Harry can feel him shifting on the bed next to him, moving to sit cross legged as he always does when Harry gets serious. “Because people always talk themselves down,” Harry says. “Like when you told me you’re nothing special even though I have it on good authority that you’re a walking talking god.”

Harry is blind and Niall gets partnered up with him for a project.

My comment: Ok, I have a weakness for disabled characters. And fluff. And Narry. So this was just perfect! Such a fun read!

________________________________________________________________

Niam

~ These Little Things That Bind Us (orphan_account) (76k)

Summary: All of a sudden, there’s a voice at his ear. “How’re you doin’, mate?” Liam jumps about a foot, but somehow manages to stay balanced on his barstool without spilling a drop of his drink. He needs to calm down if he wants to avoid attracting any attention from Malik and his cronies. Steeling himself, he squares his shoulders and turns to face the voice. And then he actually does spill his drink. All over the shirt of one Niall Horan. Liam lives a comfortable life; he works as a policeman, and his lovely girlfriend has just moved into his flat. However, everything changes when he's assigned to go under cover and gather information about a rising star of London’s criminal under world, Zayn Malik, and his ragtag band of criminals. This band just happens include a cheery, fair haired Irishman who quite literally charms the pants off of Liam and, before he knows it, Liam finds himself facing a choice between love and duty.

My comment: Where do I even begin with this one? I kept getting immersed and forgetting that Liam was actually undercover but then I would remember and the ANGST! Certainly an emotional roller coaster. Stayed with me long after I finished reading it. 

________________________________________________________________

Nouis

~ heart out on my sleeve by temerity (forsanethaec) | @1dgaf (29k)

Summary: After Zayn drops out of Hogwarts just before their last year in Slytherin, Louis is left adrift. In a high-level Charms class tasked with finishing the rebuilding of the castle, he strikes up an unlikely friendship with Niall Horan of Hufflepuff, and learns more than he expected along the way. (A Harry Potter AU set eight years after the Battle of Hogwarts.)

My comment: I absolutely love reading about post-battle Hogwarts. Everything has a different kind of feel to it. Slytherin!Louis and Huffelpuff!Niall complement each other so well and the descriptions of the spells are incredible. Loved everything about this fic!

________________________________________________________________

Zarry

~ In Pursuit of the Extraordinary by blainedarling | @zaynbastian (31k)

Summary: Zayn is eight years old when he realises that he’s different. Contortion comes as naturally to him as walking does to most people—what doesn’t come naturally is acceptance from people around him. His family find it odd and the children at school think he’s a freak. The closest he comes to acceptance in his time at high school is through his gym teacher, Dave, who teaches him how to train his body and respect his gift; and Harry, a beautifully wild boy he meets by chance at a party who, too, has a secret talent. It's years before he'll see Harry again and find a place where he can excel at his talents.

A Zayn-centric story about the struggles of being different or unusual, and finding family in unexpected places.

My comment: This story was absolutely AMAZING! Reading about Zayn’s struggles was HEARTBREAKING and it made me so HAPPY and RELIEVED when he finally found his home.

________________________________________________________________

Ziall

~ Maybe It's A Hangover, Maybe I'm In Love by lucy_and_ramona (28k)

Summary: summer fling!au. Niall and Zayn meet at one of Harry's parties, where everyone is excited to move on to the next chapter of their lives. Everyone except them. Drunk and out of their depth, they hook up. They keep hooking up, and attempt to start a casual relationship, only Zayn's definitely falling, and Niall's trying to ignore the fact that he is, too.

My comment: I loved how the relationship progressed in this. How Niall kept wanting to hold back but kind of being unable to help himself. It was just so easy to read. 

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Ziam

~ it keeps my veins hot (the fire's found a home in me) by loveontherocks (51k)

Summary: "You think anyone said thanks?" Zayn asks, his voice wrecked and shredded, half whisper, half reminiscent of pubescent teenaged years.

Harry looks at him like he's lost his mind. "Thanks to who?"

Zayn shrugs, finally bringing the cigarette up to his lips, igniting the flame of his lighter. "The firefighters. They're the ones who got us out, right? They're why you and I are here on this couch right now. Right?"

Harry purses his lips. "Dunno. Wasn't a priority of mine, I guess."

It should be, Zayn thinks.

or; the one where zayn survives a fire and falls in love with the firefighter that saved him.

My comment: Firefighter Liam is one of my favourite things! Zayn struggling with his anxiety over what happened seemed so real. And all the pining!! The PINING! Just read it.

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Zouis

~ swing my heart across the line by jarpadsalecki (21k)

Summary: "Louis was trying to come up with all the ways Liam could have died--car crash, he was figuring, but Liam was the safest driver he knew--and ringing up a particularly large order for a thirty-something year old woman and her three kids when a figure appeared out of the corner of his eye. Well, fucking finally he had a bagger. He glanced to his left, hopefully, to see if it was Liam.

It wasn’t."

The one where Louis is the star cashier, Harry is the cafe boy, Niall works in the deli, and when Liam is promoted from bagging to dairy, Zayn from produce is his replacement. Louis is not happy about that.

My comment: This was such a fun lighthearted read! And guys, the scene with the body shots...omg. LOVED these two characters together.

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Gryles

~ The Seaweed Is Always Greener by goseaward (25k)

Summary: The fairytales are pretty clear: Don't go near land. Don't go near humans. Definitely don't fall in love. And whatever you do, don't ask the Sea Witch for help.

A modern-day Little Mermaid AU.

My comment: This was a fun one! Harry’s character is so quirky and Nick just kinda goes along with everything. 

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Tomlinshaw

~ Butter With You by driveinbingo | @joekavaliers (26k)

Summary: ”You’ve got egg on your face”, says Louis.

Nick isn’t quite following. ”What?”

Louis rolls his eyes. ”You’ve got egg on your cheek. Looks stupid.”

Nick could be inside with a cup of tea and a scone right now. Nick had thought – perhaps naively - that they were past all this now. That they could go back to behaving like adults.

”Right, I’m not gonna do th –”, is all he gets out before Louis practically launches himself at Nick, mouth first.

Or, the Tomlinshaw GBBO AU nobody asked for.

My comment: I actually want to cry from how good this is. Enemies to lovers, baking angst, BAKING! asdfghjkl READ IT!

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OT5

~ Let It Be Lightning by alexenglish | @queerlyalex (41k)

Summary: Niall Horan made a choice when he enlisted with the Pan Pacific Defense Corps. Leave his family and try to make a difference. He started out as a Jaeger Tech, elbow-deep in the greasy guts of the machines that were supposed to save the world, but here he is, five years later, fresh out of the Ranger Academy with another choice to make:

Assemble a team of Rangers able to pilot two or more Jaegers at any given moment. Interchangeable partnerships, all Drift Compatible with each other. The implications of pulling off this project are astronomical, but at the end of the day, Niall's just worried about how many people are going to end up inside his head.

My comment: Science fiction! Polyamory! Queer themes! What more could you possibly want? I didn’t want it to end. Just amazing.

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And that’s it for this month! I’m starting a course next month so I won’t have as much time to read. We’ll see how it goes!

You can join me on my reading adventure at @niccihoranson, where I bookmark all my 1D fic recommendations!

[docholligay]

Silverleaf 10: Flicker and Glow

Hey everyone! Hotaru and Chibs folks will be delighted by this edition of Silverleaf! Sponsored by our excellent Ben! Please thank him below, so far as I know, he doesn’t have a tumblr! Thank you for reading! All of Silverleaf is here. 

Hotaru was beginning to doubt herself completely. All of this seemed like a nice enough idea, when she’d been sitting in her room, writing and rewriting the letter, wanting to figure out what to say to Chibiusa, trying not to sound as weird and awkward as she felt.

In her mind and her heart, there was poetry. There were descriptions of how Chibiusa’s hair shone in the sunlight, and they were rich and deep and Chibiusa would blush with delight when she read them.

On the actual paper, she had compared her to a pink Starburst. Those were the best, everyone knew.

The best she could do was a Starburst. 

It sounded dumb, and kind of creepy. Was she saying she wanted to eat Chibiusa? Was she going to think Hotaru was just like some guy, staring at her and thinking about her?

It wasn’t like that. It was like that. It was complicated.

This was stupid. What had she been thinking? Chibiusa lived in a huge house, and had seen the world, and Hotaru was the weird sickly kid who was only in Silverleaf because her father was owed a favor by the head of a drug corporation. A lot of people owed her father favors. He did the best he could with them. With her.

But all his well-meant tutoring and the fancy designer bookbag he bought secondhand so she could fit in, the fancy shoes, none of that could make Hotaru anything like Chibiusa. Anything like any of them.

She turned around to leave, letter still in hand.

“Hotaru?” Chibiusa walked out from behind the hydrangeas, “Hotaru Tomoe?”

“Hello.” Hotaru clutched the letter close to her chest and realized, to her great horror, that she was blushing.

Chibiusa’s eyes sparkled with delight, even under the dim humming light of the streetlamp. “I didn’t know you lived around here!”

Hotaru nodded at her, but said nothing, her mind whirring through anything that could be anywhere close to this. The macaron bakery? It’s 10 pm, Hotaru. Shit.

“Where do you live?”

__

Michiru Kaioh was drunk. No, no, a lady never got drunk, a lady was merely feeling festive, a lady was just a bit rosy. That was all she was, of course. She was a paragon of perfect decorum.

Yes, perfect, that’s what she was, she thought, as she lay on the chaise lounge, swinging her glass from the second bottle of wine back and forth in a sing-song rhythm. She was a cut artisan crystal vase, and if Haruka could not appreciate her objective beauty and class, that was her fault, nothing of Michiru’s. Haruka was simple and blue-collar and rough and all wrong for her anyhow, it was just a dalliance that was a simple bit of fun, the same as when she had seduced the English teacher, who to her mind didn’t even speak the kind of English the girls needed to learn.

It hadn’t been her fault that girl had gone back to England at the end of the semester.

But then she thought of how Haruka’s hair had glowed like a halo in the dim light of the wine bar, how sweet she was when she was floundering with the menu, the gallant gesture of her flowers and the way she held the door.

Haruka was not fine, but she was good, and that probably explained the impossibility as well as anything else.

She took another deep swig of her wine and thought to what Rei had asked her, about why it was so important for her to take an interest in Haruka, when there were plenty of girls flittering about like specks of glitter in the snowglobe that was the fabulous and decorative life that Michiru cherished so well.

She loved the way she lived. She loved the hard marble that clicked beneath her feet. She loved the diamond glint of cool crystal on the plaster walls of the penthouse, high above the city, high above everything, high above everyone. She loved the way people demurred to the power of her name, who immediately recognized it when she passed a card, when she made a reservation, and how the service grew so much more agreeable.

It wouldn’t be that way in one of those dingy noodle shops with the coated boxes, the ones Michiru had seen in Haruka’s lunch, where she doubtless sat under a buzzing table light and slurped too-salty sauces.

No, she was very happy where she was at. This was where she belonged. One did not keep elegant silver in a shoebox.

She was feeling very festive. She was happy where she was.

___

“I live--” Desperation. She didn’t want to lie, not to Chibiusa, not now, when she wanted so much to do this right. Her watch glinted, saving her. “Look at what time it is! I have to go home, my dad will--”

“You can call him from the house!”

Chibiusa grabbed her arm, and Hotaru was surprised at how hard her hold was, the strength behind a girl who looked like a fluff of cotton candy, and how widely she looked at Hotaru, almost pleading.

“I have lemonade, inside. And some cake?” Chibiusa suddenly seemed to realize how bold she was being, her voice trailing off at the end. She released Hotaru’s arm and gently folded one hand into the other.

She looked at her a moment, and then seemed to recover, giving the bright smile Hotaru loved so well, and pointing to a large glass gazebo attached to a huge house, so much like the other houses on this row, where prominent dignitaries lived with their families on a fine block lined with sweet-smelling flowers in the trees.

Hotaru wanted to go eat cake and drink lemonade in Chibiusa’s glass castle, in this strange and fairytale world that was so different from her perfectly serviceable but simple apartment on the other end of the city, where easygoing sandwich shops and small grocery stores sat beneath apartments.  

Years of sitting in hospital rooms listening to dire predictions read drolly from charts had made Hotaru used to disappointment, and she had often been the one less distressed, between her and father, over whatever new problem her body had decided to have. That life was easy. It was the one she’d lived since she was a girl, and she was used to it.

Her recent health was more terrifying than any medical test had ever been. She would never tell her father this, but Hotaru had been smarter than so many of the other children in the hospital--she had long ago simply figured she would not grow up. She had made no plans, and she studied simply because it was something to do with her father, something that he could think about that wasn’t how he’d lost her mother and would lose her.

And then, the clouds had parted.

In that unexpected light cast onto all of Hotaru’s future, she had found herself quite without a map, disconnected from everyone at school, who had been planning their lives since they were five, and she did not know how to explain to anyone that this was not what she planned for.

She hadn’t even told her father she was gay.

Not that she thought he’d care. Hotaru found that nearly dying multiple times as a child had cleared her for any number of surprises without much question or argument.

“Hotaru?”

In her haze of thoughts, she had forgotten that Chibiusa was standing next to her, waiting for an answer.

“You can call your dad from inside.” She leaned her head just a little to the side, and her pink pigtails bounced in the wind, “I,” she giggled and Hotaru could swear she batted her eyes a little, “My parents are…” she gestured in the air, “always gone, and it’d be fun to eat dessert with someone who isn’t hired by my family.”

Hotaru slipped the letter back into her bag.

“Yeah. I’ll give him a call.”

Nearly dying multiple times as a child had cleared her for any number of surprises, Hotaru had found.

__

Haruka was asleep, Mouse curled up on her chest, the two of them snoring softly, and Mina was glad. Love was a complicated thing, which is why Mina normally didn’t bother with it. Oh, she liked to fuck around, in the most literal sense, but the romantic entanglements of it all--the feelings and cuddling and the closeness and all the vulnerability--there were few people who had ever made her want to bother with it, and for most of that, she had Haruka.

They had been together for more than a decade. It was weird to think of it that way, being together, but Mina knew no other word for it. MIna knew all of Haruka’s quirks and pains and joys, woven together like a rug, and Haruka had all of hers. That had been true since Mina helped her get off the ground when her knee had snapped and popped against that bad hurdle, when she’d managed to convince Haruka that maybe, just maybe, she had some value to bring this world that wasn’t on an Olympic stage.

“This is all I’ve ever been good for,” She was a bottle deep and smelled it, watching a tape of herself destroying her high school record “Dad says he’s gonna call a few more surgeons, find someone who can fix it.”

Mina slammed the door and flipped off the TV. “No. You’re not.”

“I--”

“Sorry everyone keeps blowing smoke up your ass because they don’t know what else to say, but your knee’s fucked, Haruka.” She was was surprised to find out how angry she was, in that moment. She hadn’t even liked her when they’d first been assigned as roommates, and had only kept it from one year to the next for lack of opportunity elsewhere.

Haruka’s fist thundered against the coffee table. “No it isn’!”

“You’re not a horse, Haruka! No one is gonna take you out back and shoot you because you have to get a boring job like the rest of us!”

“Maybe they FUCKING should!”

“Jesus fucking Christ, I’m glad you’re not like that anymore.” Mina rose from the chair where she’d been sitting and moved to the small kitchen.

Together was the right word, whatever anyone else thought of it.

Mizuki was a decent match for Haruka anyhow, at least for a first few dates. They were both awkward nerds, at least, and so Haruka wouldn’t be trying to date someone who wove the conversation with gold and silver threads, and it was never certain if what she was saying was the truth or a lie or if she even knew anymore.

She pulled some leftovers out of the kitchen and poured them into a small container, neatly putting them inside a soft lunchbox printed with a bright red racecar and sticking it back in the fridge.

Mina didn’t think much of her own love life, until it came time to think of Haruka’s, and Haruka never worried after her--she went on plenty of dates, and Mina supposed it had never occurred to Haruka that she hadn’t settled down for any reason other than ‘because she didn’t want to.’

It was easy for Mina to find Haruka’s faults, where she thought too little of herself or didn’t think something through. It was harder for Mina to admit that as much as Haruka tried to fall in love, Mina tried to stay out of it. Her thoughts darted to Rei, and then moved quickly away, back where things were safe, where it was her and Haruka against the world, and no one else had footing.

She put her glass in the sink and turned off the light, padding the few doors back to her apartment, safely alone.

The fireflies danced in the warm night air, and Michiru might have seen a snowglobe’s glitter, and Mina might have seen a ghost in the past, and Rei might have seen a story in their flames, but for Hotaru Tomoe, it was nothing but the soft candlelight of a future she had not expected, and as she took a bite of the cake, it tasted sweet.