#me seeing ash's magic muses: wAIT I HAVE A WITCH

[lattehearted]

not starter call but def check out her bio!

Tag drop and starter call for Alondra Santiago, my brand new witch oc, bio here !!

[innocentbi-stander]

Can you do demigod jaskier? But this time he is the son of Hecate?

@localhalfvampire I need to preface this by saying you’re an absolute GENIUS

Demigod jaskier, but son of Hecate has so much untapped potential and I’m LIVING for it

A jaskier who has magic, who hides himself from detection by using his abilities to manipulate the Mist that shields demigods from discovery from the rest of the world (he shivers to think of what sorcerers like that bastard Stregobor would do if they realized that demigods, sources of pure godly power and ability were walking about the Continent, free to manipulate)

Obviously children of Hecate possess an innate talent for magic, each level of magical ability depending on the child, but nobody, not even Hecate herself, had been prepared for the unintentional powerhouse that is jaskier

And how fitting is it that the person who would care about ability levels the least ends up the most powerful child of Hecate to walk the Continent since Circe herself?

Jaskier was brought to camp at a young age, his noble father unwilling to deal with the baby of his one night stand with a goddess

He is raised amongst demigods and taught to defend himself and defend others from the monsters that plague the children of the gods

A sword is placed in his hand as soon as he is strong enough to grasp it, he learns to throw daggers with deadly accuracy, to shoot arrows at a target blindfolded

For all that jaskier is taught to be fierce, and witty, to speak gracefully with a silver tongue, there is nothing he picks up faster than magic

Magic to jaskier is like breathing, for he was born from the goddess of magic herself, it is woven into every piece of his being

Hecate is a tough parent, and she believes in  challenging her children and their abilities, and so it is no wonder when jaskier leaves camp to explore the world on his own, though he visits often

And then jaskier meets geralt and the rest is history

He spends twenty years chasing after the witcher (and though twenty years is not really a blink in the eye of an immortal demigod such as jaskier, that still matters) , there’s many hunts and contracts, aftermaths of jaskier stitching up geralt and lying about where he learned to sew skin so neatly

There’s evenings spent by the campfire, playing his lute and trying to ignore the way the firelight dances in geralt’s amber eyes

There’s laughs in taverns after a bit too much to drink, there’s lute strings tucked into his bag and no word of where they came from (though he knows), apples for Roach amongst complaints of destroying her diet, doublets ruined by days in the wilderness, and geralt’s barely there smile when jaskier produces honey cakes ‘given’ to him by the local baker

There’s inns, and shared rooms, then shared beds, and shared baths closer than close, and then there’s the djinn, and yennefer, and growing apart bit by bit

Jaskier possesses some of the greatest magic in the world, and there’s nothing he can do except watch the love of his life pick someone else over and over again and pretend not to be slowly falling apart

And then the mountain

Jaskier is alone for a little bit after that, wandering aimlessly 

He travels across the Continent, killing monsters that the rest of the world can’t even see, wiping yellow sulphur dust from his hands and wishing he was somewhere else

Jaskier visits camp and stays there for a while, but no matter how many times he comes back jaskier is a traveler at heart and never stays for long

Not far past the borders of camp, at a nearby village, jaskier learns that nilfgaard has been looking for him

He can’t bring himself to be even remotely surprised then when he’s ambushed on the path a day later

The first few parties of soldiers are easily dispatched with the use of his sword and daggers, but then at some point nilfgaard realizes that the ‘harmless’ bard has teeth and sends a small army

Jaskier really should have laid low and hid himself amongst the Mist ages ago, but he’s never been one for hiding (and frankly he’s a little bit insulted that nilfgaard seems to have thought him so easy to defeat and resolves to knock them down a few pegs)

Unbeknownst to the demigod/bard/whatever the hell else he is right now, there’s been a rather frantic witcher accompanied by a witch and a princess that have been searching for him for ages, following the trail of bloody groups of soldiers

Geralt hears of the army sent after his bard and reacts first with confusion on why an army is needed to take down one human man, and then feels blind panic. Rather hysterically, as he’s shoving his, yennefer, and ciri’s things into roach’s saddlebags, is the thought, he’s going to tear them apart

Which really makes no sense given that jaskier is fucking human, but geralt has always felt something off about him, something bigger, and regardless of that he’s seen jaskier’s more feral side and is comforted slightly by the thought that jaskier is hardly the type to go down without a wicked fight

Yennefer is less reassured by this information (your bard is going to get torn apart, not the other way around!) and ushers them off immediately 

When they reach the clearing where whispers of nilfgaardian soldiers has lead them, there is an entire small army present, at at the other side in the most bizarre looking fashion, is jaskier

He stands alone, but he does not look afraid

Jaskier faces the army of nilfgaardian soldiers, his doublet a shade of midnight blue, sword in hand, and a fierce look in his eyes that for some reason sends chills down geralt’s spine

He assesses the army, silent and calculating, finding something that nobody else can see 

The captain of the army shouts an order and the men charge forward, a smirk reaches jaskier’s lips

The army’s movement sparks geralt into action, what is he doing just fucking standing there, and he unsheathes his sword to somehow help his bard

But then there is a well manicured hand on his arm and a spell stopping his feet from moving farther, and geralt looks to yennefer to ask her what the hell she thinks she’s doing and pauses at the curious look in her eye

“Wait” she mumbles to him, brow furrowed, “Something isn’t right”

And geralt turns back to the battlefield and jaskier’s eyes are glowing

Jaskier sees the army charging forward and it takes everything in him not to laugh. They are fools, every single one of them

Jaskier whispers a quick prayer to the gods for luck (even though he doesn’t need it), and lets his magic explode

When the screams fade and there is nothing in the clearing but ash and blood drying in the dirt, jaskier wills his magic to return to his body

He scrubs at a little spot of blood that had managed to stain his sleeve, a new doublet at that, and considers maybe it is time to hide amongst the Mist, if not to save his poor beautiful clothing

The snap of a twig interrupts his musings and brings jaskier to alert, the hum of his magic singing through his veins, hands at the ready

Jaskier goes deadly still when across the clearing he spies two ghosts from his past, one of them with a rather unflattering look of shock across his face, and the other looking way too pleased with herself

When they both start to make their way to him, jaskier debates on whether he still has enough energy in him to shadow travel, anything to make a speedy getaway and the fuck away from this horrible confrontation

He raises his hands , willing the shadows to lengthen and warp, ignoring the persistence dizziness and figuring there’s no better way to find out than to try, only to be stopped by a sharp, “don’t even think about it bard”

His response is instant and without hesitation, “who the fuck made you the boss of me? If I want to get the hell away from here I’m very well going to, I don’t give fuck all what you’ve got to say about it”

Yennefer’s eyes narrowed and she snatched one of his hands, still shaking with overexertion. “I think your hands tell a different story, you’re exhausted.”

“Yes, well defeating armies will do that to anyone I suppose”, Jaskier reclaimed his hand and tried to ignore the fact that geralt had yet to do anything but stare

Purple eyes examined him carefully, “You never told me you had magic”

Jaskier laughed, a hollow sound even to his own ears, “I don’t really, not your kind. It’s a long story”

“Then you’ll have plenty of time to tell us when we get to Kaer Morhen”, at last, the White wolf had spoken and unsurprisingly jaskier liked absolutely none of what he had to say

He sputtered, and he was sure his cheeks were turning that infuriating shade of red they always assumed when he was particularly pissed off, “I’m not going with you anywhere!”

Geralt turned to the bard, focusing on him with an intensity that jaskier before the mountain would have killed to receive “Nilfgaard isn’t going to stop. They want Ciri. The armies will keep getting bigger and bigger, until whatever fucking powers you have aren’t enough”

Jaskier scoffed, crossing his arms across his chest “I can handle myself”

Something in Geralt’s eyes softened “I know you can. But you don’t, shouldn’t, have to. Come with us. Just for the winter. Then you can go wherever you want. Please”

There was a long moment between them, amber and blue staring into each other’s depths. Jaskier didn’t know what to think. It had been made clear on the mountain that the witcher didn’t give a damn about jaskier, and jaskier wasn’t big on wasting his time in places he wasn’t wanted. His heart wouldn’t be able to take it.

But geralt had never pleaded with him like that, never said please. There was a desperation in his eyes that jaskier had never seen before and without his permission he felt his heart melt a little. What was one winter?

“Fine.” jaskier spoke carefully, trying to ignore the small smile that formed on geralt’s face. “I’ll come for the winter. But after that I’m leaving and I’ll be out of your life for good”

Jaskier hadn’t forgiven Geralt. He was owed an apology, and a thousand other things. Yennefer was still a bitch, and he had no idea how geralt’s brothers and mentor would react to a demigod in their midst. But jaskier was lonely, and tired of being on his own, and as much  as he hated it there was a part of him that had desperately missed his witcher, no matter how much he had hurt him. 

It was just one winter, right?

He’d figure it out….. somehow

_______________

That went in an entirely different direction than I was originally intending, but the story just got away from me... I hope you enjoyed!

What do you think folks, worthy of a part 2?

[mudkipmagicks]

Careful {Bruno Bangnyfe x reader}

*************SPOILER WARNING FOR BURN THE WITCH EPISODE 3****************

*also adding in a small content warning for mild language and vaguely sexual intimacy (stradding lap, possessive touch. Reader is also not written as a specific gender)

     I may or may not be obsessed with the ‘tough guy that is only soft for his partner’ thing, so here’s that with Bruno. This actually ended up softer than I was intending, but I still love it. I am also making the reader specialize in healing/protective magic for the sake of the story, but it wont play a big role in this. Enjoy!!

~//~

     The news was pure chaos as glittering destruction fell towards the city, each stardust particle reflecting in terrified eyes of civilians. You watched with shallow, panicked breaths as your eyes locked onto the television in front of you. Bruno was circling one of the seven dragons that was supposed to be a myth, Rickenbacker dodging between stars. Cinderella sat perched on a high clocktower with her wings spread, white feathers glowing in the crimson flames. Two pipers you didn’t recognize were also flying with Bruno, but you could tell all of them were struggling against the Marchen.

     Despite the overarching orders to stay inside, you were finding it hard to idly watch your boyfriend get battered by Cinderella’s attacks. You were anxiously pacing the apartment you shared with Bruno, your own dragon eyeing you from their resting spot on the couch. You knew they were also getting restless with the constant rain of explosions outside on top of being stuck inside for the time being. You were trying to stay away from the windows in the apartment just in case, but you hated not being able to see Rickenbacker flying around.

     “Should we go wait for them?” you asked your dragon. They raised their head and let out a soft growl. You nodded an slipped on a jacket to protect yourself while flying, as well as a mask reminiscent of Bruno’s. Grabbing your witch kit, you and your dragon slid out the front door and through the hallways to the roof. Surveying the city was devastating. Numerous fires combined to fill the sky with choking black haze. The starry glitter was mesmerizing in person, but equally terrifying. You mounted your dragon and waited for a few minutes to fully grasp the situation. Bruno and the pipers had just tried to trap the Marchen, but she sent them flying back with a catastrophic explosion. You gasped before taking off after them, your dragon quickly diving over the edge of the building.

     You landed next to to Bruno and Rickenbacker, quickly sliding off and over to your boyfriend. After removing your mask, your hands instantly flew to his shoulder and face, maneuvering his head so you could assess his bloodied features. 

     “What the hell are you doing here?!” Bruno exclaimed as he shoved your hands away and took a step back. He roughly pulled his mask off and you could see him trying to figure out which thoughts to voice. He was worried and you knew it, but damn it all if you were going to sit by while he could get killed.

     “Do you expect me to just wait in an exploding building and watch you fight a literal fairy tale? Not happening!” you retort, grabbing his face again. His eyes studied yours for a few seconds before you watched his features soften, his initial anger melting away. His gloved hand came to rest over yours and hold it to his face. 

     “Fine, but you are not fighting that thing directly. It’s bad enough Rickenbacker is already injured-” he started, wrapping an arm tightly around your waist, his fingers digging into your hip as if you would disappear.

     “Not to mention you, but okay,” you interjected, pulling at the red-stained fur around his collar. Bruno rolled his eyes at this, but relented.

     “Yeah so let’s keep it at that. I don’t want that shitty dragon hurting you.” You pressed a quick kiss to his jaw as a huge shadow passed overhead. “The hell? Where’s it going??” Bruno questioned as he let go of you and followed the Marchen to the edge of the building. It continued on as you stopped beside Bruno, a hand resting on his back. Your eyes tracked the large, otherworldly dragon towards where the pipers had fallen.

     “Shit, those brats..” you heard Bruno curse moments before explosions blossomed on the roof where they landed. Without hesitation, you both mounted your dragons again, thankful that Rickenbacker was alright after being stunned. Both beasts took off in a wide arc around Cinderella as she landed in front of the pipers and what looked like two civilians to you.

     “Something’s off...” you heard Bruno mutter as you flew next to him with practiced ease. Suddenly a bright bolt of light streaked before the city skyline, striking Cinderella through the crown. Both Rickenbacker and your dragon stopped and reared up as you and Bruno looked at each other with shock. Her massive white body glimmered with silenced stars as she fell from the rooftop. Slowly, you both guided your dragons to land on a nearby rooftop and you dismounted. 

     Bruno’s arm returned to its previous position around your waist and his other hand rested on your cheek. You leaned into his touch as you both scanned each other for new injuries. Bruno sighed as he didn’t see anything, and your hands lightly ran up his chest and to his shoulders as you finished checking.

     “Sit down so I can take care of your face?” you suggested, rubbing your thumbs across his collarbones. He waited a few seconds before grunting an unassuming reply and slowly letting go of you. He went and sat on one of the few rooftop benches as you prepped your witch kit and a few bandages. As you approached him, Bruno pulled on the back of your leg to get you to straddle his lap. 

     “I shouldn’t be surprised,” you mused, rolling your eyes and smiling a bit. He only smirked in response. One of his hands rested on your thigh while the other circled your back, pressing your chest into his.

     “Don’t let me distract you babe. Face reaaally hurts,” he said dramatically, starting to rub your thigh and back a bit. You simply kissed the tip of his nose in response and got to work cleaning the blood and casting minor healing spells over his cuts before bandaging them. Each bandage you placed glowed with a faint green light before it settled, showing that your magic was working.

     “There,” you started, pecking his lips lightly. “All done with your face.” You brought a hand up to rest on his cheek, the other going to his chest as he kissed you again with more fervor. He pulled away slowly and nestled his face into your neck, letting out a deep sigh. Bruno pressed a kiss onto the skin there as a silent thank you, his body completely relaxing against yours as you carded your fingers through his hair. You both stayed like that, enjoying the safety and comfort of having each other so close. Bruno broke the silence after a few minutes.

     “Let’s go home,” he breathed, wanting nothing more than to fall asleep with you in his arms. You hummed in response, but didn’t let go quite yet. He just sighed before sliding his hands down to your thighs and standing up with you in his arms. You looked up at him with a questioning look, but he didn’t say anything. Somehow he managed to maneuver both of you onto Rickenbacker’s spine, you still in his lap. Rickenbacker took off, your dragon following closely behind as the blue dragon flew to your apartment building.

     Bruno was already sliding off of the dragons neck as soon as the large being landed on the roof. You hung onto his neck as he entered the building, your legs squeezing his hips more as he walked. You made note of the amount of skewed pictures in the halls, the result of the star ash explosions. Bruno only put you down upon entering your apartment. Both of you shrugged off your jackets and hung them up near the door. Two pairs of footsteps padded down the hallway past cracked windows and shaken dust. Your witch gear became forgotten on the couch next to Bruno’s, your shoes stacking on top of his haphazardly. 

     As you entered your shared bedroom, Bruno stripped off his shirt and you quickly changed into more comfortable clothes. Your boyfriend collapsed on top of the bed, easily pulling you on top of him. Your head slid onto his shoulder easily, his arms encasing you protectively. 

     “You know we’re gonna have to write a report, right?” you mumbled into his skin, already dreading the duties that would follow tonight. Bruno just groaned in response, his voice becoming something of a drawn out ‘no’. You let out a quiet laugh and pressed yourself further into him as sleep started to claim both of you. The last thing you felt was a small series of kisses being placed on the top of your head and Bruno’s strong hands helping ease any tension in your back.

[spacebeyonce]

this wip wednesday post is for @ride-the-bifrost specifically. because they asked for a sorikai body art au ages ago, and I’m finally working on it but it’s since went and morphed into a mash up of florist/tattoo parlor au meets urban fantasy. I mentioned it uhhh last week? I think?

but anyway - a snippet! I’m still building it up - duh, obviously, but here’s what I have rn.

Riku never paid much mind to the tattoo parlor across from his grandmother’s shop.

That isn’t to say he’s never seen it before, or anything – he still remembers the day it popped up a few years ago, across the street and two buildings over. Synthesize, with its striking midnight blue bricks and bright red door. A lot of people were skeptical of the business, doubtful that it would be there long – himself included - but despite all their doubts, it’s stuck around so far, highly recommended through word of mouth for the high quality of their work. If you wanted a tattoo or piercing as a magic focus, or for protection, or hell, just for a good night’s sleep – Synthesis would always provide.

It has been a while since the Destiny Islands had any kind of person around who’s spell work was primarily through body art; on the cities inland yeah, sure, there’s plenty – but that’s a two-day trip that many don’t feel like taking, at minimum. Here in their little beach town, folks like the ones at Synthesize were a rarity. It’s not like Riku knows the people that worked there, though; he’s rarely seen them, even after moving back home from the mainland – and that wasn’t planned, either. But life never turns out the way you want, even if you plan every possible turn on your path to the letter.

See, Riku was a witch – a witch like his mother and father, and their foremothers and fathers, on and on and on. He was a witch, and when he was seventeen, he had left home - like all good witches are supposed to do - and traveled inland to try and find a place to settle down and call his own. His plan had been to open his own shop to sell his own magical wares and make a name for himself – though what he wanted to sell, he wasn’t really sure. But he would figure it out on his own time. He had been well on his way to it, too – a few apprenticeships under his belt, a growing number of clients – he was doing it. It had been so close.

But then he got a call from his mother. And he had to come back home in August at twenty-two, to help around the house and care for his father, who had fallen ill. And eight months later he had to hold his mother’s hand as they stared out into the sea, draped in mourning white as his father’s ashes were swept away by the tide.

He hasn’t left home since. He hasn’t felt the urge to. Before, he had been so eager to leave home, so ready to just – grow up. But now, he’s not much of anything – not anymore.

Riku wasn’t resentful about staying in the Destiny Islands, not now; in the earlier years, when grief blinded everything, he was – he snapped and lashed out and quickly gave into the dark, bitter ugliness of his heart. But it was fine in the end; he had family to support him and pull him back when he got too into his head – and a grandmother that put him to work so he could get his head out of his ass, forcing him to try his hand at selling green things and potions – a tincture for better health, a bouquet with flowers placed just so to sharpen the mind or brighten a room, ethers to restore a person’s magic when exhausted. He wasn’t as good as his grandmother at first but now – he was decent enough. It was something that would keep him focused, keep him busy, and deal with the stormy turbulence in his heart in other ways.

And then his grandmother up and left the shop in his name a year and a half later when she finally decided to retire – a little apothecary all his own.

He didn’t think he could handle it by himself – a whole shop, belonging to him and him alone? It was too soon. He still felt so unbalanced – so young. He was only twenty-three. He hadn’t been sure. But his grandmother had put her foot down.

“You need this.” She insisted. “You need this, and it will be good for you. Besides – you think I’d let you run this place by yourself? No, no, I’ll be there to help when needed – but that doesn’t mean you get to slack off!”

Time passed, and he slowly settled. Slowly made the apothecary feel more like his, made a name for himself outside of his family. And then – Synthesize.

All he knows about the people that work there is that the artists are around his age, and the owner was a blue haired woman that he’d seen coming and going now and then. That, and the high compliments of their work, he supposed. But other than those things, he knows nothing about them – and he didn’t really mind all that much. Never really noticed, anyway, too caught up in his own work, his own life, filling in the ragged space his father left behind bit by bit. He didn’t really think his path would ever cross with his mysterious neighbors.

But that all changed one cold winter day – that day, he thinks, was the one that set him onto that long, winding path.

He didn’t really mind it that much, in the end.

-o-

It had been a pretty normal start to the day.

Riku arrives to his shop at eight in the morning, as he has done for the past three years, and then he makes his rounds around the shop to check on the plants that filled buckets to bursting and the state of the potions that lined the shelves, taking note on what needed to be restocked for the day. His grandmother wouldn’t be in until noon, and that was alright – the morning hours were slow, with customers few in number - which meant he could take his time.

After taking care of what needed to be restocked, Riku returned to the back rooms of the store to prepare himself for the day. He pulled his apron on and tied it snugly around his waist, adjusting the straps and making sure they weren’t twisted around his neck. He combed his fingers through his long, platinum hair, pulling his hair tie off his wrist and holding it between his teeth as he braided his hair back, ensuring it wouldn’t get in the way. His movements were slow, meditative, and with the added scent of flowers and dried herbs, Riku felt himself slipping into a calm space, muscles relaxing. As he tied the end off, the soft jingle of the bells over the door rang through the air, and Riku raised an eyebrow.

A customer? At this hour?

“Hello?” A man’s voice called out – bright, chipper, but still relatively deep. “Anyone there?”

“Be with you in a moment!” Riku called back, making a face at his reflection and the way his bangs hung in front of his eyes, futilely blowing the hair out the way. He quickly put it aside and left the back room behind, adjusting his apron one last time as he returned to the front area, wondering who could possibly be coming by this early.

A man around his age was waiting at the counter, hands tucked into the pockets of his coat as he looked around the shop. He had spiky brown hair, warm brown skin, and strikingly blue eyes, and when Riku stepped up behind the counter, the man gave him a quick once over before giving him a smile so bright it made him squint a little. It felt fine if he only admitted it to himself, but the man was…cute.  “Can I help you?”

“Yes! I was wondering if you had any celebration flowers?”

Riku tilted his head, surveying the buckets of flowers around the room. “Probably, yes.” He mused. “What’s the occasion?”

“Ah, my girlfriend – it’s her birthday today, and I wanted to give her some flowers before work.”

Ah. A girlfriend. Well, no big deal.

He shrugged off the slight sting of disappointment with a smile. “That’s nice of you. Do you know what flowers you wanted to give her?”

“Uhh…”

Sheepish, the man shrugged, his grin turning shy as he reached up to scratch at the back of his head. The sleeve of his coat slips down, just enough so that Riku could see a small paopu fruit tattooed on his wrist. “I didn’t – sorry! I just thought, um, that there would be bouquets that were pre-made?”

Riku breathed out a little laugh. “That’s not how it works here, no. It – alright then. Can you tell me about her?”

“Huh?”

“Your girlfriend.” Riku says, beginning to roll up the sleeves of his sweater. “Can you tell me about her? What’s she like?”

He’s still a little new to this, but he’s worked here long enough that he feels like he’s got a good grip on this now.

“Oh! Um. Well –”

The man scratched at his hair again, and his eyes went soft as he thought over his words. “Kairi, well, she’s – she’s really smart, and nice – but don’t let that fool you! Even though she’s sweet, she’s got a real temper, too. And she’s so – she’s so funny, and competitive, and really hard working! And she always tries to make everyone feel good, and is just – she’s really warm, and welcoming, and – um.”

He smiled dopily. “I, uh. I like her a lot.”

Riku couldn’t help but smile. “I can tell. Alright, then. Give me just a second.”

He marinated over what he’d been told, humming in thought as he wandered around the space, staring at the buckets of flowers. It didn’t have to be a huge bouquet, he thinks – nothing too outlandish. He started off with a few pink carnations as the base, thinking for a second before grabbing a few amaryllis flowers. What else…? Jasmines, Riku decides. And larkspur. Maybe forget-me-nots? Riku wasn’t sure yet, but he felt pretty good about the idea.

So far it was looking good – whites and pinks with a little hint of purple. It felt…fitting. He didn’t know this Kairi person, but this looked like it would suit her well enough.

“So…”

“Hm?” Riku hummed absently, looking around the room.

“How long have you worked here?”

“Oh – um.” He tucked some of his wayward bangs behind his ear, even though he knew the act was futile. “About three years. This shop was – it’s family owned.”

“Really? That’s so cool!”

“You think so? It was my grandmother’s and, well. Now it’s mine.”

“Whaaaat?” The man gaped at him, astounded, and Riku felt prickly heat spread down his neck. “You own this place? But you look like – my age!!”

Riku sharply turned away, pressing the back of his hand against his cheek as he looked over the plants. The bouquet still needed a little – something. He decided to go with the forget-me-nots, after all. “That’s because I probably am your age. Really, it - it’s not that impressive.” Riku mumbles quietly, back turned to the man. “I mean – this place isn’t really mine. It’s not something I made on my own. But – that’s nothing you have to worry about. Sorry.”

How unprofessional of him; what is he thinking, starting to unload his problems on a stranger? Get a grip.

He decided to grab a few leaves of a fern plant, thinking that a touch of green would be good. As he started to head back to the counter he felt – something. A light brush against his senses – a magical aura rubbing against his. It made him shiver a little, hair rising at the nape of his neck, and he cut a glance over at the man, only to notice him staring, blue eyes piercing. It felt like – like he was trying to figure him out.

“I still think it’s great.” He said softly, and he sounded so…sincere. Riku tore his eyes away, letting out a soft laugh of disbelief. “If you say so.”

“Can you do magic, too?” The man asked as Riku returned behind the counter, grabbing some lavender tissue paper to wrap the flowers in.

“I can.” Riku’s hands moved fluidly, tucking the flowers together and wrapping them up, turning some of the blooms just so, so the arrangement looks perfect. “I come from a very long line of witches.”

“Really?? That’s amazing!”

The man looked so amazed, eyes sparkling, and Riku actively had to fight back the heat creeping up his neck. “Thanks.” He mumbled bashfully. “Anyway –”

He wrapped the flowers with a nice white ribbon and held out the bouquet. “You’re all set.”

“Oh! Thank you!” The man carefully takes the flowers, a little awed smile on his face. “They look amazing – and they smell so good! And they feel really – bright! Wow, you’re really good at this!”

“I should hope so.” Riku says dryly, and the man makes a face.

“Sorry, sorry. How much do I owe you? Oh, can I also get a couple ethers, as well?”

He grabbed the bottles of ether before munny exchanged hands, and Riku gave the man his change and receipt with a smile. “Have a good one. I hope Kairi likes the birthday flowers.”

“Thanks! I hope so, too!”

The man grinned brightly at him and took a couple steps back, arms laden with his purchases. He’d started to turn to the door but – stopped. Turned back to face him. “Hey…what’s your name?”

Riku tilted his head a little, bemused. “I’m Riku.”

“Riku.” He repeated slowly, like he was testing the sound of his name, and then he gave him a smile. “I’m Sora! It’s nice to meet you – and thanks for all your help! I’ll probably come around more often.”

Sora gave him one more wave before stepping outside, the door quietly swinging shut behind him. The shop felt – much quieter, with Sora’s presence gone; everything about him was very…bright. Loud. But not in a bad way.

He did say he would come around more often, and Riku, well – he guessed that he wouldn’t mind the noise too much.

Riku stepped around the counter and moved towards the large windows, discreetly staring after Sora as he walked down the street and headed –

To Synthesize.

“Oh.” He said aloud, mouth falling open a little as Sora entered the shop, letting that bright red door close behind him.

He guessed – the little glimpse of a tattoo should’ve made it obvious. But that doesn’t mean Sora works there. Maybe his girlfriend works there? That’s probably it.

It slowly started to sink in how Riku must have looked to others, pressed up against the window and staring after someone he only talked to for five minutes.

Why was he thinking so hard about this? What was there to wonder about? He needs to get it together.

“I have work to do.” He muttered to himself, pushing away from the windows and retreating into the store’s depths.

[zcldrizes-a]

@stovmborn​ asked :  🎵 i know we both write the same muse BUT !!! i wanna see what songs you would put in a dany playlist

» 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐞 🎵 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐬.

oo1. gloria regali - tommee profitt. peace be with you, soul divine. wake again in paradise. crowned in glory, fear no more. winter's misery or the coming war. gloria regali. peace and understanding. forever may you reign.

oo2. yellow flicker beat - lorde. i'm a princess cut from marble, smoother than a storm. and the scars that mark my body, they're silver and gold. my blood is a flood of rubies, precious stones, it keeps my veins hot, the fires find a home in me. i move through town, i'm quiet like a fire. and my necklace is of opal, i tie it and untie it. and our people talk to me, but nothing ever hits. so people talk to me, and all the voices just burn holes. this is the start of how it all ever ends. they used to shout my name, now they whisper it.

oo3. start a war - klergy. the pen is mightier than the sword, then how did we get here, my god? sail among liars. blame the deniers. if history is dead and gone, then how did we get here, my god? so you wanna start a war in the age of icons? so you wanna be immortal? so you wanna start a war?

oo4. seven devils - florence and the machine. holy water cannot help you now. thousand armies couldn't keep me out. i don't want your money. i don't want your crown. see, i have to burn your kingdom down. and no rivers and no lakes can put the fire out. i'm gonna raise the stakes. i'm gonna smoke you out. 

oo5. the resistance - skillet. you can take my heart, you can take my breath, when you pry it from my cold, dead chest. this is how we rise up. heavy as a hurricane, louder than a freight train. this is how we rise up. heart is beating faster, feels like thunder. magic, static, call me a fanatic. it's our world, they can never have it. this is how we rise up. it's our resistance, you can't resist us.

oo6. battle cry - beth crowley. but something has stirred, a beast has awakened, opened a door. there's no mistaking. waging a war, it's fighting inside of me. so hear my battle cry. i'm out for blood to claim what's mine. finally questioning if i am my own worst enemy. 

oo7. in the end - tomee profitt. and even though i tried, it all fell apart. what it meant to me will eventually be a memory of a time when i tried so hard and got so far. but in the end, it doesn't even matter. i had to fall to lose it all. but in the end, it doesn't even matter. 

oo8. which witch - florence and the machine. and it's my whole heart, weighted and measured inside. and it's an old scar, trying to bleach it out. and it's my whole heart, deemed and delivered a crime. i'm on trial, waiting 'til the beat comes out. who's a heretic now? i'm not beaten by this yet. you can't tell me to regret. been in the dark since the day we met. fire, help me to forget.

oo9. rise - katy perry. i won't just survive. oh, you will see me thrive. can't write my story. i'm beyond the archetype. i won't just conform, no matter how you shake my core. cause my roots, they run deep. oh, ye of so little faith. don't doubt it, don't doubt it. victory is in my veins. i know it, i know it. and i will not negotiate. i'll fight it, i'll fight it. i will transform. when the fire's at my feet again and the vultures all start circling. they're whispering, you're out of time. but still, i rise.

o10. heroes fall - hidden citizens. ashes floating from the fire. arise. silent prayers and whisperings. i hear 'em calling from within. when all the heroes fall, the world plays its wicked games. and i am left defenseless cause i know the sky's gonna say my name. 

and have some of my favourite writing instrumentals that are not just from the soundtrack.

oo1. völuspá - wardruna.

oo2. stay a thousand years - ramin djawadi.

oo3. experience - ludovico einaudi.

oo4. here comes the king - xray dog.

oo5. courtyard apocalypse - alexandre desplat.

[fallenflowersfromgrace]

LUZ APPRECIATION WEEK DAY 2 (Magic Training)

Day two, here we go. I really drew a blank for this one and I am determined as heck to make all the days for Luz Appreciation Week, so I will probably post a much better version of this prompt much later. Plus I tied it to day 3 so here we go...

"That went better than expected," Luz winced as she dusted off her leggings. Trying to combine her glyphs was a lot messier than she thought it would be. She had no idea the plant could catch fire and not turn into ash immediately. Sure a few minor burns from her trials but it wasn't anything some ice and bandages couldn't fix.

Well, if she ever wanted to prank Willow, she knew how do it. Of course, if she wanted to keep the plant witch's friendship then that would be a trick that would never see the light of day.

"Alright, so plant and fire work relatively well," the teen mused as she made a mental note. "Although the frozen plants were easier to break. And the fire and ice made water but that's pretty rocky, so maybe I'll keep working on the flaming plants. But maybe..."

Luz glanced around, making sure Eda or Lilith couldn't catch her as she pulled out two different glyphs. Fire and light.

"Please let this be cool, please let this work the way I want it to, please."

///

Eda shot up from the couch the moment a startled shriek came from outside and Hooty's nightmarish laughter followed.

Luz stood in front of the house with flaming plants around her, part of her leggings on fire, a scorch mark on her purple and white hoodie, and what looked like to be a light ball on fire flying into the sky above them.

The teen was busy patting down the fire on her before catching her mentor's irritated glance.

"I promise it's fine." Luz winced as her spell came crashing down to the ground and sending a few embers flying up. Neither of them chose to mention the fried animal that came down with the spell.

"Really?" Eda raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, yeah, some mistakes might've been made," Luz smiled sheepishly.

"Emphasis on some," the witch scoffed.

"Ooo look at that, it's past my glyph training time," Luz gave a nervous chuckle, "and we still have potion training to do like you promised sooo..." the teen quickly sidestepped her mentor and sprinted into the house. "TO MAKE POTIONS IN THE KITCHEN!"

"Welp," Eda sighed as she surveyed the damage, "I'm not cleaning this up."

///

"Okay so," Luz looked over the ingredients as she grabbed a jar of bright green dust, "this is the potion that makes everything super old, right?"

"If you mean expand in size and mature faster, then yes," Lilith responded as kept her gaze on her book.

"You know I really hope this works," Luz said as she gently shook the jar to disturb the settled powder.

She really wanted to display her talents. Sure, she had discovered a way of doing magic on her own and was the only human to attend Hexside as well as being the only student to study all tracks but there were years of old habits built up. Back in her world, she constantly fought to prove herself. Fought to prove to her teachers and peers that she wasn't a screw up and that she could do something right.

If she was being honest, part of her feared that she would find a way to mess this up. Her audition for the school play had ended her in the counseling office for two weeks, and her book report nearly caused her to repeat the year. So, of course, with her track record, she was nervous.

"Trust me kid," Eda huffed from her side, "all this stuff is trial and error." The witch waved an uninterested hand, "Magic potions are unpredictable so don't freak out if you don't get it right."

"Yep," Luz nodded her head as she furrowed her brows in concentration so she scooped out the right amount of powder. "Got it, Eda."

The teen dumped her spoonful into the beaker and excitedly waited for a reaction.

"Umm..." Luz glanced to her right where her mentor was. "Did...did I miss something?"

"Uh," Eda looked over the mess of stuff on the counter and narrowed her eyes in confusion. "Lily?" She asked as she grabbed the jar containing the green powder Luz had used.

"Yes?" The older Clawthorne glanced up at them from her spot at the kitchen table.

"Quick question," Eda winced as she walked over to her sister.

"Oh, no."

Luz paid the two siblings no mind as she glared at what she assumed to be a failed experiment.

She knew she had taken the right steps. All the ingredients were correct. She put in the correct amount. So why was there no reaction?

"Ugh." Luz leaned forward, crossed her arms ontop of the counter and slammed her head onto her arms which caused the objects on the counter to slightly shake.

She cracked an eye as a soft fizzing sound reached her ears and the teen perked up in excitement. She had done it.

"Yes!" Luz cheered as the potion began bubbling, "Eda! Eda, look! It wo-"

"Luz!" Eda screamed with worry evident in her tone as she rushed forward with Lilith behind her, "MOVE!"

"Wha-"

"LUZ!"

POOF.

A bright cloud of green exploded in front of the teenager's face and she swore she heard something that resembled glass breaking before the world moved beneath her feet and her vision tunneled for a second. The girl threw out a hand to catch herself, only to completely misjudge the distance between herself and the counter and she fell.

Had it not been for the quick reflexes of her mentor, Luz was certain she would've ate it. Though, she wasn't going to complain. Eda was the one to initiate to hug this time, and while Luz hated causing anyone who cared about her worry, she was somewhat confused and amazed as to why her mentor was carrying her. Had she really scared Eda that much?

"Oh, dear Titan," she heard Lilith gasp out. Guess she did. Wait. Lilith was worried. Luz knew Lilith worried a lot but this was a different kind of worry.

"Kid?" Eda's voice was shaking and Luz felt a shiver of fear go down her spine. "Luz, are you okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" Luz froze as she heard her own voice. It was high. She hadn't sounded like that since-

"WHO SHRUNK LUZ?!" King screeched as he froze in the doorway of the kitchen.

"What?" Luz questioned and Lilith grabbed the nearest reflective utensil and held it up so the girl could see herself.

Her face was definitely smaller and her hair looked a bit longer and her reflection resembled that of her-oh.

Oh.

Oh, no.

"WHY AM I SO SMALL?!"

[carolmaximoffs]

THE GOOD DOCTOR

CHAPTER NINE

Ch. Summary: Thea loses herself after losing those closest to her, but like always, Steve saves the day.

Warnings: avengers infinity war spoilers, cursing, endgame spoilers

Pairings: Sam Wilson x WOC

A/N: i’m not happy with this chapter, but i just don’t see myself getting to a place where i am happy with it BECAUSE of the way i changed the ending of civil war...i just wanted to write bonky and steeb i should’ve known better. anyways  this is the last chapter with any real plot. maybe someday i’ll rewrite it on AO3 who knows. 

Taglist: @marvelousmrstark @annathesillyfriend​

WHEN SHE GETS THE CALL, Thea’s on a picnic with Sam. It’s an unknown number, but thankfully, it’s a familiar  voice. However, any relief at hearing Bruce Banner is back is quickly squandered by what he tells her. 

“Are you kidding me?” She practically shrieks. Sam’s a little ways away on a blanket, eyeing her curiously. “Dr. Banner, please tell me you’re kidding.”

Thea covers the receiver and shuffles closer to her beau. “Tony just got kidnapped by aliens.”

“We’re in the middle of a date,” Sam whines. Thea glares at him, motioning for him to pack up as she goes back to her conversation.

Had she known this would have been one of her last moments with Sam for awhile, she might’ve given in to his complaints and finished what they started.

When Sam tells her he has to go to Wakanda, she kisses him deeply, tells him to come home safe, and call her when he landed. When only Nat, Rhodey, and Steve step off the Quinjet, Thea’s hands shake. When Natasha tells her what happened, Thea feels the familiar feeling of her world shattering.

FIVE YEARS LATER

“YOU NEVER THINK that the last time is...the last time.” The group is nodding, huddled together around a corner table in the otherwise vacant restaurant. “I...I told him to call me when he landed. It’s kind of our thing? And he...he called me. But I never got to tell him I loved him. And now I...I probably won’t ever get to.”

Thea bites her lip, fighting tears as Steve quietly thanks her for sharing. He started this ‘support group’ a little over a year ago. Thea thinks it’s because he was at such a goddamn loss as to what to do, but she showed up tonight nonetheless. After a few more words, people begin to file out, until it’s just Steve and Thea left. They sit in silence, and Thea is just about to go home herself when Steve speaks.

“He knew.” Thea’s head snaps up, and she finds the blond already looking at her. Pale blue eyes bore into brown as Thea swallows a sob.

“No, he didn’t. He didn’t know, Steve, and he never will.” She doesn’t mean to be so harsh; she feels guilty as soon as she sees the hurt flash across Steve’s face, but Thea is already out the door before she even thinks about apologizing.

She’s moved back into her old apartment. Nobody else had moved in during her months with the Avengers, and the Compound was too painful. It was too empty. So here she is, only half of her furniture back at her place, the rest left at the compound, even 5 years later. ‘Just in case she changed her mind’ - that was what Steve had said when he helped her move.

She knows she won’t, not unless Sam and Wanda and the others miraculously came back. Her apartment is pretty empty, too, but not because people were literally missing from it.

In fact, Thea had almost forgotten what it was like to live alone. Often, it felt like she was dreaming, or transported back in time. She’s taken up her old job at the hospital, though there were far less patients now. She’s reconnected with old coworkers, fallen back into old habits; the only truly new development was attending Steve’s group.

In fact, Thea broke her routine only for the occasional visit to Tony and Pepper. They’d made the most of everything and gotten married, and had a baby. It was times like now, when Thea felt at her lowest, that she didn’t feel so bad about disturbing their bubble. She changed out of her scrubs, grabbed her keys, and drove until pavement became gravel and skyscrapers became trees.

It’s dark when she parks in the gravel driveway. Pepper is already making her way onto the porch, feet bare, arms open for Thea. She’d become something of an older sister, her fiery yet maternal energy comforting to Thea. Pepper has just pulled back, mouth open to presumably ask Thea how she was (as if the answer changed). A small voice from inside interrupts her, accompanied by the sound of tiny pounding feet. “Auntie Dot, Auntie Dot, Auntie Dot!”

Morgan barrels into Thea’s legs, causing her to stumble back with an ‘oof’. She recovers quickly, swinging the dark-haired child up into her arms. Thea nuzzles her nose into Morgan’s hair.

“Hi, pumpkin,” The woman greets. Weary as she may be, Morgan Stark never failed to bring a grin to her face. Pepper quickly waves her in, and with Morgan balanced on her hip, she follows the strawberry-blonde into her kitchen. Morgan squirms for only a moment before tucking her face comfortably into Thea’s braids; Pepper sets about making some tea. Thea is almost overwhelmed with the warm feeling blooming in her chest. All too soon, Morgan is ushered off to bed, and Pepper levels Thea with a solemn look.

“Did you go?” She asks, and Thea lets out a groan, dropping her head to the tabletop. Pepper swats at her arm. “I’m serious, Dorothea. You need to talk about it with somebody, and Steve is a great start.”

“Pep, talking about it doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t bring him back,” Thea grumbles, scowling at the use of her proper name and the subject. Pepper doesn’t reply for a long time, before finally she grasps Thea’s hands tightly.

“Thea, they will figure something out.” Pepper holds up a hand as Thea goes to argue. “Hell, even Tony’s working on it. And when they do figure it out, I promise it’ll be worth it. No matter what happens.”

                                                            -

Steve calls her, a couple weeks later. She hasn’t gone to any more group meetings, Pepper’s advice be damned. Work was slow, so she’s home early, curled up in her bedroom. Steve’s call startles her out of a trance, having zoned out instead of properly watching whatever chick-flick she’d queued up on TV.

“I need your help, Thea.” The Captain’s voice is almost pleading, on the edge of desperation. Thea huffs, kicking off her blankets to pace her bedroom. 

“You can find me at the hospital, Steve. I don’t have leeway like I did at the compound, so I can only help if it’s surg-” 

“Thea, I need your help on a mission. Possibly...possibly the biggest mission of any of our lives.” Thea wants to berate him, but he keeps going. “We’re getting them back, Thea. But it won’t be pretty. You can help with that.”

Thea wants to cry. She wants to puke, scream, burn Steve Rogers’ goddamn optimism to ash. Instead, she says, “Fine. I’m in.”

                                                              - 

Pepper’s words echo in Thea’s head long after that night. They ring through her brain, in the middle of the most terrifying day of Thea’s life. No matter what happens she thinks, running from person to person as quickly as possible. They seem to fall like dominoes. Thea feels way out of her element, cursing Steve for all he’s worth. She can’t shake the feeling that she isn’t fast enough; she almost pukes when she hears Peter calling for her and sees Tony, slumped, eyes shut. 

She wasn’t fast enough. 

Pepper’s word’s remain, even weeks later, when she’s standing at the edge of Tony and Pepper’s lake, watching an arc reactor float upon flowers. No matter what happens. Even months later Thea is thinking of them, when Morgan and Pepper come to visit Wanda and Thea at the New Avengers Compound. Sam is gone on a mission with Bucky. The former was now armed with a shield, instead of wings. Her guilt haunts her, so much having changed and yet still so much is wrong; so many people are missing. 

“It feels upside down, doesn’t it?” Thea muses to Pepper as they watch Morgan, enamored with Wanda’s red magic lacing flowers together in her hair. Pepper hums quietly. When Thea looks over at her, her eyes are glassy, and her thoughts are clearly far away. Thea takes her hand, loosely so Pepper can pull away, but she doesn’t. Thea squeezes. “Pep, I’m so-”

“Don’t.” Pepper’s gaze is sharp, suddenly, as she meets Thea’s eyes. “There was nothing you could have done. I...I’d rather him be at peace than be a zombie.”

Thea feels her own eyes well up at that, but the Quinjet roaring overhead distracts her. The trees shudder and she swipes at her eyes. She rises to her feet as Morgan dashes towards the compound.

“Bucky! Sammy!” Morgan cheers, blossoms spraying from her hair as she twirls. She grips Pepper’s hand eagerly, practically dragging her mother through the compound. Thea waits for Wanda, who magically sweeps the flowers away from the entrance and onto the grass. The witch smiles softly at Thea, linking their elbows.

“Everything worked out the way it was meant to, sestra,” The Sokovian murmurs as they enter the elevator with Pepper and Morgan. “It always does.”

Morgan babbles excitedly to her mother, who manages a weak smile. Wanda laces her fingers through Thea’s, a comforting new habit. The elevator begins to rise, and finally, so do Thea’s spirits.

[rubiesintherough]

​ @emeraude-nobrega

LONG AND RAMBLEY FIREBIRB FACTS INVOLVING HISTORY AND PEOPLE CONNECTING HIM TO DARK MAGIC AND THE DEVIL BC IM A HISTORY NERD  AKA, THE ACCOUNT OF AEDUS BEING ENTIRELY DONE WITH HUMANS AND THEIR SILLY SUPERSTITIONS AND REACTIONS TO THEM:

Aedus was absolutely, repeatedly  accused of being the devil, himself, during the Middle Ages all the way up through to the American Civil War… which tends to happen when you have unusually colored eyes, a charming demeanor… and the habit of catching on fire. During the European witch hunts, he was even accused of being a warlock, having sold his soul. So, they tried burning him at the stake. That worked about as well as you’d expect. He didn’t want to harm anyone, as many of those in the crowd were innocent women and children caught up in this hysteria, so Aedus    ( then, going by the name Aurav )   simply waited until the flames burned through the ropes, freeing him, and he casually strolled away from the terrified and screaming onlookers. Stark naked. And positively miffed that they’d burned one of his favorite shirts.

And that wasn’t the only time. Throughout his years of traveling, Aedus has found that most mortals generally don’t take very well to seeing a man who can ignite himself at will… or who’s most GRIEVOUS wounds heal in a matter of days. During the reign of Bloody Mary, he was, again, burned at the stake. This time, not because he was believed to be a witch, but because he was branded a heretic, spreading wild stories about a history that didn’t align with the current church’s beliefs. That, also, went about as well as you’d expect. Again, he walked away, bemoaning the loss of his clothes and terrifying everyone who attended the execution.

On the other end, people attempted to drown him for witchcraft in Salem. Aedus made the mistake of stopping there just toward the tail end of the trials. Already, the townsfolk were in a panic and treated him with suspicion when he arrived. And, then, some man he got into an argument with accused Aedus of CURSING him and the Phoenix was dragged into the courtroom. Four other people he’d never even laid eyes on testified against him, claiming he’d come to them in dreams and used magic to make them behave strangely. Aedus, of course, denied it. So, he was dragged to the river, bound to rocks, and thrown in to either prove or dismiss their accusations. Well, since he doesn’t need to breathe, the Phoenix remained under there far longer than anyone could hold their breath — almost an hour, before he was dragged back up. Still alive. Of course, this didn’t go over well with the Puritans. Even less so when Aedus had, understandably, had  ENOUGH  and ignited every inch of skin, MELTING the ropes and evaporating every drop of water off of him. The heat got so bad, those who hadn’t already retreated screaming prayers were forced to. They called him the devil. And Aedus, essentially, had to go into hiding for a few years as word of him spread past Salem. But, the story did die out fairly quickly after the trails ended and the town magistrate tried to brush everything under the rug, so to speak.

Throughout his time with Samuel during the Revolutionary War, Aedus did try very hard to hide what he was from the population. It worked, up until Samuel’s death during a particularly brutal battle… then, the Phoenix sought out the man who’d fired that killing shot and burned him to ASH. That  unnatural death  frightened the community, who claimed it was magic. They weren’t entirely wrong.

With the passing of the Land Act in 1804, Aedus moved  West  with a SMALL caravan ( only three wagons ), hoping to find solace after Samuel’s death. Halfway through the journey, a terrible winter storm struck. The wagons sought shelter in a grove of trees along the trail, but that wasn’t enough to keep the cold from taking its toll. Hypothermia, frostbite…. The oxen were in danger of dying, winds whipping through reaching a chill FAR below freezing… so the Phoenix made the decision to reveal what he was. To one of his friends, first, a young woman. She was scared, of course, Confused. But, she understood that he could save them and get them safely through this weather to Oregon. She’s the one who broke the news to the others, and, even though many of them were extremely frightened of him, in their desperation, they accepted his help. He kept them warm. Helped them cook their food. Offered light in the way of flames sprouting from his fingertips whenever needed to help conserve their supply of candles… being unaffected by the cold, himself, he offered all of his clothing to the others, save enough to preserve modesty, for them to layer. He went out hunting and gathering food. For two weeks, he kept them alive, warm, fed, and safe… everyone revered him as something of a guardian angel. Less of the MONSTER  they’d first thought when they’d found out, and more of a miracle from God. They reached their new home, all of them swearing to keep his secret safe as they set up their new lives.

so since aedus is active right now, too, i would like to take this moment to say… if your muse ever needs a place to stay, or someone to look out for them, especially if they’re a lost or scared kid, throw them at this soft-hearted, ancient firebird.   he will 10000% make sure they have food in their belly, a warm and safe place to sleep, will have their back and protect them.   just aedus, y’all.  he’ll open his home to anyone who needs it.  he’ll make them tea or hot cocoa, give them freshly tumbled blankets so they’re warm and cozy.    listen, the amount of kids he’s essential;ly adopted, helped raise, looked out for, cheered for, over the centuries??   i mean for someone who’s scared of being a dad bc of PHOENIX FAMILY DRAMA ™, he sure as hell has that powerful paternal instinct.  will 1000/10  adopt your muse    all you gotta do is throw ‘em his way and he will take them right under his fiery wing    

ME:  considering how much losing people he loves screws him up, could it be another few centuries and this phoenix could possibly snap and grow colder, and begin to distance himself from humanity, just to spare himself from that pain?? ALSO ME: he’s legitimately too soft-hearted and too attached for them for that, so despite the pain, he will continue to integrate himself into humanity and continue to watch those he loves fade and die, mourning them, subjecting himself to that pain willingly… because the alternative is isolation and he already tried that once after samuel died and he wound up on a wagon train west, making new friends, watching them pass, and new friends out on the coast… and watching them fade, too, before he finally moved back. Because even when he actively tries to distance himself he physically can’t, ‘cause he needs that companionship. and not only that, but he recognizes that being around humanity keeps him grounded and helps him be better, improving himself as they improve… and without them, he would truly be lost and stagnant

also, some of aedus’s physical traits, because appearance and tactile senses do play a big part in interactions. especially first meetings ( i.e. things i am totally okay with your muse noticing about him right from the get-go tbh )

GOLDEN EYES:  his irises look a LOT like fire… they’re a lighter gold at the top and darken to almost an ORANGE near the bottom. TEMPERATURE: his skin does feel incredibly warm to the touch, as though he’s constantly suffering from a high fever… this heat can even be felt simply radiating off of him when the fires inside of him flare hotter, such as when he’s angry or upset. ATTIRE:  Aedus is always impeccably dressed. Considering how rich he is from all the money he’s stored away throughout his life  ( a big chunk of it coming from selling items after they’ve become antiques and VERY valuable to collectors. Authentic coins from the Roman Empire, first edition books dating all the way back to the early 19th century, random household items from the homes he kept throughout the Middle Ages, clear up to the American Civil War )    he can definitely afford the BEST tailors his current place of residence has to offer. Not to mention, he does have quite a discerning taste when it comes to fashion. I mean, he worked hard making this body look just how he wanted it… of course he’s going to wear clothes that accentuate it. VOICE: his voice holds traces of accents from all over the world. It’s a little difficult to pinpoint just one… but, I’d say the more prominent ones, most simple to pick out, would be Irish and British. He has a very LOW voice. Keeps his tone very soft and steady for the most part.

random reminder that samuel’s watch is aedus’s most valued possession. it’s the one he usually keeps on his person  ( unless he’s planning on picking a fight with someone, in which case it sits securely in his bedside table’s drawer )    and it’s something he would risk his safety to get back if lost or stolen. it’s the very last shred of samuel that remains… the last physical reminder of the man he loved more than anything in this world, trusted more than anyone else, would readily have married if they’d been granted the chance. aedus will be extremely hesitant to let anyone else touch it, no matter who they are…

[ariennemalfoy]

Alpha/Beta/Omega Dramione Fanfics

Longer (Completed):

All You Want by Senlinyu (172,268 Words): Eighth Year at Hogwarts was supposed to be Hermione’s. And it is, just not in the way she expects. Omegaverse fic. 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15153092 

Dangerous Desires by Fortem (182,350 Words): Draco Malfoy is an alpha and he is very used to getting what he wants but when his marriage negotiations begin his life gets far more complicated. Hermione Granger is an omega and just wants to be taken seriously. She'll do anything to overcome her station, even if it means making deals with a certain irritating Alpha. 

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11895291/1/ 

The Unofficial Diary of an Omega by MrsRen (29,178 Words): Hermione is certain this heat cycle will be the same as always. Except Luna Lovegood, close friend and fellow Omega takes it upon herself to create a service that matches Omegas with compatible Alphas. What Luna fails to mention to anyone at all, is the aspect of the soulmate bond. [Wizarding AU where Voldemort died in the first war.] [WIZARDING TINDER.] 

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12996809/1/ 

A Heated Marriage by mrsaturtle (Deleted)(18,224 Words)                                           (feel free to email ArienneMalfoy@gmail.com for a copy)        Hermione Granger has lived with her guardian Lord Snape for a decade but now she's crossing Engl and  to meet her intended, an alpha who can't wait to get his h and s on her. Her suppressants have stopped  and  when her heat crashes over her, a man she barely knows will become the only one who can get her through it.

Oneshots:

My Alpha, Draco by Lashes to Ashes (4599 Words): As the looming threat of Lord Voldemort draws ever closer, Hermione is given a secret mission. Get close to Draco Malfoy. All it took was one night. One night for the truth to come out and turn everything upside down. My take on an Alpha/Omega fic. Very mature and explicit - lots of lemons! 

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13093055/1 

Marked by Monsterleadmehome (4492 Words):  Hermione Granger's heat wasn't supposed to start for another two weeks. But that was before the intoxicating scent of an unknown alpha triggered it as they passed in the atrium. Can she make it through the rest of the day before starting her leave? And who is the mysterious alpha who smells like her perfect mate?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17046587 

Feeling the Heat by Flightglow32 (3241 Words): Hermione has a little problem when magical maintenance strike causing the Heat to rise. A/B/O fic. Smut

https://archiveofourown.org/works/16123583 

Basic Instincts by Safewordisdevilssnare (2382 Words):  Being an omega in a war-torn Britain is bad. It's even worse since she was in heat and on the run from an Alpha tracker hot on her heels.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15214649?view_full_work=true 

An Omega for his Birthday by weestarmeggie (2305 Words):  Hermione Malfoy's husband, her Alpha, is avoiding her and she doesn't understand why. 

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12959705/1/An-Omega-for-his-birthday 

Blood Moon Mania by dangelina (6883 Words):"A condition of mania used to describe sexually receptive females influenced by the desire to reproduce. Symptoms include changes in a witches’ scent, hyperactive senses, high body temperature, altered behavior, rapid breathing, heart palpitations. During the height of Frenzy a witch may release pheromones as ovulation occurs. These pheromones are known to cause aggression and altered mental states akin to madness."Hermione never was one for Divination. Unveiling the future through dreams? Tea leaves? How the stars sit in the sky? Seems woolly.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21021698?view_full_work=true 

Sheer Lunacy by dangelina (9263 Words): “It’s nightshade wine. I don’t believe they use Deadly Nightshade anymore.” Draco mused, holding his glass by the stem as he swirled the wine in slow circles, “They say it causes delirium and hallucinations.”“The plant or the wine?” She eyed the Slytherin in astonishment.Malfoy lazily shrugged.Hermione glanced at the glass in her hand suspiciously before bringing it to her lips once more.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21144653?view_full_work=true

On Hinges, On Haunches zoomzoomzuppa (6732 Words):  Draco is the alpha of his pack in a world forgotten by sleeping gods.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/16471271

WIPS:

The Program by ComfortableSilences: Alphas and Omegas depend on each other for relief from their designation. The longer that they deny their bodies' needs the worse the symptoms become. An Omega's heats will only get worse and more frequent, while an Alpha loses his control completely is launched into a rut. The Ministry launches a program to help deal with the Alpha/Omega problem in the Wizarding World. They offer the chance for relief without admitting to your designation. A matching system where an Omega can use an Alpha to see her through her heat and an Alpha can use an Omega to keep his sanity. The best part is it is completely anonymous, the matches are decided based on mutual attraction to each other's pheromones, and a potion prohibits the brain from recognising your partner.Hermione Granger has never been with an Alpha, her heats are becoming unbearable. Draco Malfoy begins to lose control of his body in his fight against his own designation. Ultimately they surrender to the program, knowing they have to face the inevitable lest they lose their own or take someone else's right to consent.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21048587?view_full_work=true 

Every Part of Me by PotionChemist: Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy have been hiding a secret for the past five years. Something brought them together during sixth year and then the war ripped them apart. Four years after Voldemort’s defeat, Hermione is married to Ron Weasley and Draco has recently married Astoria Greengrass. When they reconnect at the annual Victory Ball, Hermione tells Draco something about himself that he never knew, and it explains why he’s been dreaming of her since he let her go…Is it possible that Fate herself tried to unite the two sides through Hermione and Draco? How did all of this begin in the first place? Can their damaged bond be repaired five years later?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18289409?view_full_work=true 

Bite First, Ask Questions Later by Daredevilsinthedetails, Kaylessi: Their world was at a boiling point. Currently, 25% of the magical world consisted of born Alphas and not a single new English Omega had presented since Halloween of 1981. Aggression, possessive behavior, and battles for dominance between the Alphas were making magical Britain a relative warzone. A laundry list of nefarious deeds by one deemed to be light and the cure to all of their problems resting on the shoulders of three unsuspecting students…what could go wrong?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20253814?view_full_work=true 

Closer by istsjustsilver: There is something wrong with Hermione.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17080448?view_full_work=true 

Mine by mrsaturtle: Alphas and Omegas are a rare thing in Wizarding Britain. With slim options of Alphas, who aren't married or horrible men, Hermione all but begs Draco Malfoy, of all people, to get her through this heat. What happens when years of animosity and misunderstanding crash around them mixed with urges and uncovered desires. 

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13032480/1/Mine 

Cherry Mint by dirtymudblood: "He could smell her.Even multiple train cars away, he could smell her. Except, Draco didn’t know who she was. He ignored his natural instincts to pant like a dog and follow the scent to the omega in the beginning stages of heat. Instead he willed himself to rub his knuckles against the rough wood of the table in front of him."

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21053894?view_full_work=true 

Omega and Alpha by JLWeaker: Wherein, Hogwarts is a place in enriching werewolves with their origins, history and potentially finding their mates and the houses are sort of packs that have little clusters in it. Harry was sorted to Slytherin were pureblood werewolves are located and becomes Draco’s Beta while Hermione is sorted to the Ravenclaw where unknown origins of wolves are sorted where she is under the care of Alpha Luna Lovegood.It was rare to find a mate outside of your house so when Draco had a hint that Hermione was his mate. It became a lot more complicated when a prophecy was thrown in the mix and a whole lot facts such us Hermione being human bred at the same time an Omega . Also, Hermione hasn’t turned and isn't fond with Draco because of their first meeting. So how will this story turn out? Just read it will you?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20414440?view_full_work=true 

These Walls by ArmyofBees: Hermione has eighth year planned out: throw herself into her studies, ace her N.E.W.T.s, and figure out a way to get her parents back. There are just a few minor wrinkles: PTSD, memory charm reversal, and face-like-a-Greek-god-but-morals-looser-than-his-purse Draco Malfoy. Oh—also the fact that Hermione is the first known omega to present in half a century and accidentally triggers an ancient, morally-grey spell that leaves the wizarding world's most eligible (and ineligible) Alphas spilling blood and galleons in a fight for a relationship with Hermione that she doesn't even want. Oops?By the end of it all, Hermione Granger is filthy rich, Draco Malfoy talks about his internalized misogyny in therapy, and Lucius Malfoy hasn't changed a bit.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17097656?view_full_work=true 

Dramione:A History of Magic:  Dramione Drabble collection

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15377496?view_full_work=true

All that is Rare by smithandbarrowman (Alpha Hermione!):In the wizarding world, it has long been assumed that men are Alphas and women are Omegas. However, when Hermione Granger discovers that assumptions are rarely factual, her status as one of only a handful of female alphas that has ever existed has men falling at her feet.But there’s only one man she wants, and like the male alphas before her, the hunt is on until he bears her mark.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21267383?view_full_work=true

[starship-squidlet]

Kurta’s Moving Castle: Chapter 3

Chapter Summary: Leorio meets the inhabitants of Kurapika's castle, including the wizard himself (officially, this time). He finds out about the Spiders, an infamous gang out to get Kurapika, and gets an idea about who it was who cursed him.

Word Count: 2,374

Disclaimer: Kurta’s Moving Castle Preface

Original A/N: I just want to take a moment to say a HUUUGE thank you to @princeasimdiya12 for their kind words on the past two chapters of this fic!!! I hope you enjoy this one too!!! =^.^=

Previous chapter: Chapter Two

Next chapter: Chapter Four

Inside, the castle truly was incredibly toasty, at least in temperature. Leorio did his best to ignore the absolute mess that covered just about every inch of the… kitchen? Dining room? He couldn’t quite tell what he had stepped into, but based on the large wooden table covered in detritus, the fire burning in a large open hearth, and the precarious stacks of dishes and provisions in an alcove off to his left, he was fairly certain that the room served one of those functions. He grabbed one of the chairs from the table and dragged it over to a clear spot in front of the hearth. The seat had a low, flat cushion that made it just comfortable enough to settle himself into. He propped his feet up on the hearth, wrapped his wide scarf around his shoulders like a shawl, and leaned back in the chair.

“Wow.”

Leorio’s eyes popped open and he searched the room frantically for the search of the voice.

“Down here, grandpa.”

Leorio’s gaze finally settled on the hearth in front of him. The fire, which had been burning low and orange when he sat down, had perked up into a bright white blaze, the tendrils of which almost seemed to flicker with… lightning? A pair of brilliant blue eyes peered out of the bottom part of the flame, unblinking and bored.

Leorio nodded to himself. “A talking fire. Looks like I really have gone crazy.”

“Hey! Watch it, old man!” the fire snapped, roaring a little higher towards the chimney. “Oh… wait a minute… Huh. That’s quite the curse you’ve got on you.”

“How could you tell?”

“I’m a fire demon. I could sense a curse like that in my sleep.”

“If you can sense it, can you break it too?”

“Ummm… No.”

“Oh. I guess you’re not a very strong demon, then,” Leorio yawned and leaned back in his chair.

“Hey!” the fire snapped. “I meant I can’t do it right now, not that I can’t do it at all.”

“Oh?” Leorio opened an eye to peer at the talking flame.

“Look, I’m in a contract with the wizard of this place,” the fire sighed. “As long as I’m in that contract, I can’t help you, unless Kurapika tells me to. But, if you can get me out of the contract before Kurapika gets me killed--or gets himself killed, either one’s a possibility with that guy--I’ll break your curse.”

“I don’t know,” Leorio sighed. “I don’t know how I feel about making a deal with a demon…”

“This isn’t a deal!” the fire said hurriedly. “It’s more of a… you scratch my figurative back, I scratch yours. Look, I don’t wanna die, you don’t wanna be… that for forever. We can help each other out.”

Leorio yawned. “I guess when you put it that way it makes sense… But I don’t even know your name!”

“I’m Killua, the fire demon,” the flame grinned wickedly. “And you?”

“Leorio. Leorio Paladiknight.” He yawned again. “Nice to meet you. It’s good to have a friend in a situation like this…”

In seconds, Leorio was snoring--loudly. Killua glared at him. “You better not turn out to be useless, old man. I may not be an evil demon, but I can be vicious when I want to me. If you don’t get me my freedom, I’ll turn you into something worse than just old.”

.*.*.*.*.*.

Bangbangbang.

Leorio woke confused. Melody doesn’t usually knock that loud… he mused briefly. When he cracked his eyes open and looked up at the unfamiliar ceiling, he immediately remembered where he was.

Bangbangbang.

There was a clatter of footsteps down the steps at the back of the room, and Leorio immediately slumped further into the chair and began mock-snoring loudly.

“Who’s this, Killua?” a child’s voice called.

Bangbangbang.

“Port Zaban door!” the talking fire sang out.

“Right,” the child chirped. “Everyone ready?” There was no time for an actual response before the door open.

“Good morning,” the child’s voice was now falsely-deepened.

“Good morning, sir,” came the polite voice of an actual adult. Leorio craned his neck to peer towards the door.

That’s not the wastes.

“Is this the residence of the wizard Jenkins?”

“It is, but the wizard is not in right now. However, I speak in my master’s place.”

“I was asked to pass this message along to the wizard.”

“I will make sure he gets it.”

“Thank you. Have a good day.”

By the time the boy—clad in an oversized cloak and enormous fake beard—closed the door and turned around, Leorio had given up all pretense of sleep and was staring slack-jawed through the portal.

“Who are you?” the boy asked eagerly, bounding up the stairs and throwing his hood back--the beard disappeared when he did.

“Uh, I’m Leorio,” he stammered.

“Killua, where did he come from?” the boy asked, tossing the cloak over a chair.

“He wandered in from the wastes last night,” the fire replied with a sigh.

“From the wastes! Are you sure he’s not a witch?” the boy stared at Leorio with an expression that suggested he wouldn’t really care either way.

“Like I would ever let a witch in here,” Killua scoffed. “He’s basically harmless.”

Knock knock.

“Swaldani door!” Killua sang out.

The boy grabbed the cloak and swung it back over his shoulders. When he pulled the hood up, the fake beard reappeared to obscure his face. Leorio watched as he hurried over to the door, turned the knob—a colored dial on the wall turned too, finally settling on the color red—and then pulled the door's handle to open it. A whole new city was visible outside, along with a tall, skinny man with long, silky black hair.

"From the magician, for Pendragon," the man said in a bored tone, flicking a piece of paper towards the disguised child in front of him.

"I will make sure to pass the message on to my master." The boy's tone was once again artificially gruff.

The man shrugged and turned away, and the boy closed the door behind him. Leorio stood up and walked over to the window. "Isn't this… the capitol?" he peered out the window, marvelling at the sights outside.

"Yes, and?" the boy sighed. He had thrown back his hood once again and hopped up onto a precarious stack of books to stand beside Leorio.

"It's just… I came in from the Wastes. How did we get here? And what about that other city from earlier?"

"Magic castle, remember? Powered by a fire demon? That door can lead any number of places at once." Even though he didn't have shoulders, a bored shrug could be heard through Killua's voice.

"Anyways, I'm hungry. Do you want breakfast?" the boy hopped off the stack of books and Leorio took a moment to look him over. He was all elbows and knees, dressed in a smart green vest and shorts, although his disheveled black hair contrasted with his neat clothing. "I'm Gon, by the way! What's your name?"

"You mean we can't just call him old man?" Killua smirked in the fireplace, ignoring the dirty look Leorio shot him.

"I'm Leorio," he replied, extending a wizened, knobby-jointed hand to the boy, who shook it. Leorio grimaced when they pulled apart; some sort of sticky residue had transferred from Gon's hand to his.

"Do you want breakfast, Leorio?" Gon called over his shoulder, bounding towards an overflowing cabinet that seemed to serve as a pantry. He fished out a loaf of bread and a wedge of cheese and headed for the table.

"Don't you want something hot to eat?" Leorio asked, peering into the mess. "There's bacon and eggs here! Why don't we have that?"

"I'd love to, but Master Kurapika's not here," Gon sighed, shoving the mess on the table back and away so he could set the bread and cheese down.

"That's fine, I can cook," Leorio waved a hand dismissively, scooping up his ingredients and a long-handled cast iron skillet before heading towards Killua.

"It's not about knowing how to cook, it's that Master Kurapika is the only one who can control Killua!" Gon explained. He watched in fascination as Leorio began to wrestle the skillet onto the fire.

"He's right, you know!" Killua sang out, flaring up to push the pan away with a surprisingly physical force. "Not to mention, I'm a great and powerful fire demon! I don't cook!"

"Oh, well, in that case," Leorio narrowed his eyes and grinned wickedly, "maybe I'll just tell Kurapika about our little bargain and see what he thinks about it."

Killua's blaze dropped so fast that the skillet slammed into the embers, sending sparks skittering across the ash-covered hearth. "You wouldn't dare," he spat, tongues of blue and white fire licking up and around the sides of the pan as Leorio dropped the first piece of bacon into it.

"I don't know," Leorio shrugged. "I'm an old man with nothing to lose. Who knows what I would or wouldn't dare to do."

"Then here's another curse for you: may all your bacon burn," Killua flared up into white flames one last time before settling into a low blue simmer.

Leorio smirked and stirred the bacon around, using the grease to season the pan before adding anything else in.

He was reaching for the plate of bacon when, with a click of the latch and a whoosh of gentle wind, the door opened and the wizard himself blew into his castle. Leorio glanced at him and his jaw nearly dropped. Striding up the stairs was the blond who had saved him the other day! He was dressed in the same smart blue and gold jacket as he had been that night, and his golden hair was just as disheveled. He almost looked like he had swept straight off the Forger's balcony and through the castle door.

"Master Kurapika! You're back!" Gon cheered, leaping off of his chair and hurrying to the top of the stairs. "You have two notes from Hisoka, via messenger."

"Did you read them?" Kurapika asked, his voice tired.

"No way! Hisoka just has his symbol on the outside." Gon fished through his pockets and handed the two pieces of paper over to Kurapika, who skimmed them quickly.

"Who is this?" Kurapika barely glanced at Leorio as he joined him at the hearth. "How did he manage to get you to cooperate so well, Killua?"

"He BULLIED me!" Killua roared, flaring up again into a spark-ridden white blaze that shoved Leorio aside.

"That's not an easy thing to do," Kurapika smiled. "Allow me," he took the pan from Leorio. "Pass me two more strips of bacon and six eggs, please. Gon! Put the kettle on for tea, would you? Now, who are you?"

Leorio gulped. "Uh, why don't you just call me Grandpa Leorio? I guess I'm your new housekeeper. Killua hired me to start today. He's ashamed at what a state this place is in."

Kurapika laughed musically, cracking the last egg into the skillet and tossing the shell to Killua. "I guess that's alright. Just don't get too carried away with your cleaning."

While Kurapika finished cooking breakfast, Leorio helped Gon clear more space at the table and find clean dishes to set it with. The latter task was the most difficult of the morning. Finally, they sat down with three mostly-clean plates and cups, two spoons, and a fork. Kurapika gave them each a slice of bacon and two eggs, along with a slice of bread from the loaf Gon had fetched earlier, and said a brief grace before they dug in. Leorio arched an eyebrow as he watched Gon scarf down his food. The manners around here are as bad as the mess.

"So, Leorio," Kurapika's soft voice snapped Leorio out of his thoughts. "What's that in your pocket?"

"Huh?" Leorio's brow furrowed. He reached into his pocket and found, sure enough, a folded-up square of paper. How did he even know that was there? he wondered as he passed the paper to Kurapika.

Kurapika unfolded the paper, but jerked his hand back as it burst into flames. It fluttered down to the table, leaving behind a scorch mark on the tabletop. "That can't be good for the table," Kurapika murmured, swiping a hand over the scorch mark. It vanished, and Leorio let out the breath he didn't know he was holding.

"What was that? Something else from Hisoka?" Gon peered at the spot where the scorch mark had been.

"No," Kurapika sighed, standing up and carrying his plate over to the fire. "A message from the Head Spider."

Gon nearly choked on his food. "The Head Spider???" he squawked. "What did it say?"

"Oh, just another of his threats," Kurapika sighed. "He's still angry about what I did to Omokage. No matter. He can't find us here." He scraped his breakfast into the fire, and Killua snapped it up eagerly. "Killua, make hot water for the bath, please. And move the castle a few kilometers; you be the judge of where we'll be safe."

Killua grumbled to himself as he flared up, reaching flame-formed hands, tipped with flashing white sparks, for a log stacked on the edge of the hearth. "As if moving the castle wasn't enough, I have to heat water too," the demon grumbled.

"Gon, who's the Head Spider?" Leorio asked.

"The Spiders are a gang of evil wizards," Gon said grimly. "Their leader is called the Head Spider. Master Kurapika has sworn to wipe them all out, and he and the Head Spider hate each other. I don't really know why; Master Kurapika doesn't like to talk about it."

Leorio nodded, thinking back to the man who had cursed him back in the infirmary. Was that the Head Spider? Or one of the others? Why come after me?

"Hey, Leorio?" Gon's voice was soft, timid. "You don't… you don't work for the Spiders, do you?"

Leorio smiled kindly down at him. "Absolutely not. I would never work for someone like that." He took a bite of his now-cold food. "Eat up. We have a lot of work to do today."

[ichoriism]

NO [adonis & kibum]

send “NO” to pin my muse against the wall to PROTECT THEM

kibum wished he could say falling in love with adonis had been a quick crash to the end of the world. but the truth was that adonis took his time crafting an indestructible net with skill and purpose; the kind of net that had no openings, that was resistant to any questions, the kind of net that was flexible enough to make kibum think he could escape it once inside.

when kibum’s performances were getting him more and more gigs, adonis insisted on either accompanying him to each of them or going to pick him up later. the singer was convinced then that the witch loved him, but in reality, he loved to see the power of his voice as it grew and grew as the days passed by.

not one to think too far ahead about risks back then, kibum thought everything was easy. never imagined there would be someone interested in his blood just because it had angel genes. but that’s how things went down during one friday night.

he was drunk on joy and vodka as he went out of the bar; it was one of those rare nights in which adonis had been unable to arrive on time and kibum was supposed to wait for him inside. the boost of adrenaline after getting the audience hyped up with his performance made him reckless and he never noticed the way he was being surrounded while he made his way back home. a stranger moved towards him and kibum was ready to brush past him until the man grabbed his arm harshly and his teeth became a set of fangs. 

too stunned to do anything, he froze right on the spot, bracing himself for a strike. but then the man became fire. he burned from the inside and his screams and shrieks of pain only enraged his companions. when they turned around, kibum saw him: addy, clad in red and black leather, was there. his beautiful eyes flashed with power, energy thrumming with it.

❝ don’t touch him, ❞ adonis whispered. kibum felt a shiver running down his spine at the display of energy that hit him with the threat. ❝ baby, come here. ❞ 

on automatic, the half-angel made his way towards the witch, standing behind him once he reached him. the vampires were looking at them with rage, but they didn’t seem ready to attack, until they did.

adonis smiled, pressing kibum against the wall. the power that his body emanated hit kibum full-force and for a moment, the half-angel could see the extension of adonis’ true presence. it grew and grew in waves of liquified magic until the vampires became pure ashes and vanished into thin air. adonis’ hand closed around his throat then, but kibum was blind: he only looked at adonis like he carried the sun and the stars in his hands, like he was the definition of perfection. 

❝ my knight in shining armor, ❞ he whispered against adonis’ lips.

❝ what did i say about not obeying me, baby? ❞ 

to deliver a convincing performance, adonis acted like he cared for kibum’s safety, but if the half-angel had dared to look closer, to open up his chest and take a look inside, he would have noticed the witch did not have a heart, not even for him.

some fridays found kibum in the dark, nothing stronger in his mind than memories and a hand stretching out to the abyss and hoping… always hoping.

[lady-o-ren]

Sorcha

Part Three

Read the above to get the info on Jamie’s dad in case you missed it.

While Claire had slept in bouts of naps - not used to sleeping at night and drowsy during the day - Jamie had tested himself much like his early days of scrounging around in soil, touching every fern and vine and seed. He sat hunched over on a mossy log holding a piece of rotted twig, rolling it between his hands and focusing his will hoping to ignite a flame. This resulted only in stinging splinters that lodged deep into his palms and for the strip of wood to gain color and curl it's sprouting roots along his wrist.

Jamie had the makings of miniature forest at his feet by the time Claire awakened and found him muttering to himself. She had walked softly behind him just at his shoulder and leaned down to inquire what exactly he was up to. Her warm breath was a question on his neck that startled and shot straight to his fingertips.

The flame caught. Instantly.

"A Dhia!"

The scrap of pine reduced to smoke and cinders in Jamie's hands that spilled to his breeks. Claire was fast to brush away the hot ash off his thigh that lifted in a cloud.

That Jamie felt. Down to every point, of every limb, of every nerve, most notably and horribly on his face.

"Were you trying to singe your features off?" Claire reprimanded with a pointed look, dusting off her hands of soot and completely unaware of the direct cause of his reddened face.

"No." Jamie replied as she sat next to him, giving her his own look hoping it hid his flustered state. "It's only if I'am to see you to yer proper place I must prepare for what that entails."

"I never asked that of you, expected you to go beyond what was decent." That was a lie. Claire hadn't expected him to abandon her once they reached Inbhir Nis. She knew his heart, of his kindness and honor. The boy she always had an affectionate tenderness for would take the world on for whoever was in need and Claire felt a burden to one still so young. "Continuing to bind yourself to me means finding another blood thirsty witch or something far worse."

"I have given ye my devotion since the very first. My star who has been my true north, how can ye doubt me?" Her seemingly lack of faith in him was another thorned coil around Jamie's already wounded heart and Claire resisted the urge to wrap her arms around him and ask forgiveness of the only friend she had ever known. Instead she fixed her gaze to the pile of shrubbery at their feet.

"Jamie, I only meant -" Claire was cutoff by Jamie unsheathing his dirk secured at his waist, clutching the hilt till his knuckles shone white against his ruddy skin.

“I swear by the holy iron that I hold to give ye my fealty and if I ever I should fail ye I ask that this holy iron pierce my heart.” Jamie lowered the dirk, kissed the blade that left a silver tang on his lips before handing it to Claire."I dinna make hollow vows, Sorcha. Now keep it with ye."

"In case you dishonor me?" Claire asked the size of the weighty weapon an awkward fit in her hands. "You think I would really use this on you?"

"No, but then again I saved yer heart from the grips of a witches claw and ye nearly caved my heid in with a rock. Then there was the apple -"

"So I just point and thrust?" Claire gave a practice swipe in the air, then another a bit closer to the man whose lips twitched at the corners and eyes filled with mirth smartly kept in check.

"Quickly, under the ribs at the back and yer wicked fiend will be no more." He instructed and placed his hand gently over hers, valuing his nose. The touch lingered long enough for Claire to bring it to her lap back to the path where their conversation started.

"You've done me great honor already, Jamie. More then anyone ever has, before you ever saw my face or knew my name. But loyalty and trust go both ways. If we must face a threat it will be together and that is my sworn vow to you, James Fraser."

"Finer then scripture, Sorcha."

______

Inbhir Nis Evening

Ned was roused from dreams of water nymphs whispering the secrets of sunken paradises shared in a breathless kiss by a rattling at the door.

With a silly grin plastered on his wrinkled sweet face he rubbed his eyes of sleeps soot, lit a wick with no magical flame to cast him back to bliss and gingerly placed his spectacles from the nightstand to the bridge of his nose.

Modesty suitably robed, he opened the door to a comely chambermaid with word of a friend to see him waiting just below.

Ned, slapped his bones and quickly dressed, nearly tipping over a vase of wilted stems and lighted candlestick, even his own two legs, giddy with relief. The lad was alive. Thank every God, he lived!

______

Ned hurried down the stairs, squinting his eyes no matter the glass that magnified his vision and scanned the dank tavern for -

There he was! Blasted, waves of flaming hair with head on forward and all limbs accounted for, walking towards him, long confident stride and all.

"Ye, sleep above a tavern?" Jamie's smile was wide and full of mirth.

"Madame Jeanne was booked." Ned replied, feigning a suffering sigh.

"A friend of yers?" The younger man innocently asked, head tilted in question.

Any pause at how Ned had sent a literal babe to the dark embrace of woods was left for another, more entertaining day as he hugged the towering lad with a mighty slap on his back that Jamie returned in kind.

"You seem surprised for a man who held such confidence of my triumph." Jamie cocked a brow taking in the man's countenance.

"Well from what you've told me, you two numpties hadn't much of a plan to begin with." A woman's voice chimed from behind the broad back of Jamie.

"Och, pardon my manners," Jamie gripped the smaller man's shoulder and gave it a shake."Mo charaid this is Claire, a woman of great importance."

Ned peered past Jamie to see a woman golden eyed and fair. Her hair was curled and wild as a woodland faerie, garbed in dress of mist that cloaked the moors, dirtied here and there and so foreign to his eyes. When his gaze trailed further down he saw her footing wrapped in cloth, yet for all her rather vagabond state, she hadn't a care as her rosy lips curled bright.

She, of otherworldly perfection.

"Was it you who enchanted this boy? Did he find you sleeping in lakes of twilight or up above the mystic rowans boughs? Are you the reason he still breathes?"

"I come from no waters that flow in lakes or oceans nor from trees of mother divinity. I dwell in a place much higher and greater, I dare say." Claire looked to Jamie, a smile shared between the two as she played along.

Jamie nodded his head over to a familiar table."We should sit and maybe have a bit of drink as well."

___

Jamie told Ned of finding the Ban-druidh through the soundless copse of trees, of sword- not fire - being used for her much deserved demise that had Jamie downing the cool drink at hand. Then the telling moved to a soul stolen away from the shroud of night, whose light was to be forever smothered by the mortal world. A stranded star before them now.

Ned had never been so delighted in all his age. No cup touched his lips. A moment to be remembered clear and whole. However...

"Another candle?" The small man looked rather sick to the two faces that stared back at him. Rather green, Claire mused, as she stirred her finger in the substance, unsure if she should take the plunge and taste what must surely be a bitter liquid.

"Doesna have to be another. Any object or incantation, anything that can aid us will do." Jamie implored to Ned.

"I ken I've asked a great deal from ye but you have traveled more then I, have an understanding of such things that far surpasses my own. You need no' trouble yourself with our plight past any word ye give  at this table."

Ned's brows shot up in offense.

"A kindred spirit I called ye and still consider to be. No matter the protest of these auld bones ye both have me at the ready." Ned raised his cup, sloshing the contents of his own promise of loyalty that the two greatly welcomed.

"Now, I may know a way or at least another with a finer mind then I. He's an odd fellow by the name of Master Raymond. Shorter then I, rather resembled a frog but I warn you, cunning in every word and action for his sole benefit. The issue though is that he lives in Pari-sii." Ned smiled at Claire, La Ville Lumière. This may be serendipitous for us."

"We would have to take sail then." Claire beamed and gripped Jamie's arm, giving it a back and forth tug. "I've never been to the sea, smelled the air of salt nor even - " Claire slightly faltered in realization." Nor even swam. How wonderful it would be." Her face was full of wonder at the possibilities now open to her.

"It's terrible." Jamie moaned running a hand from face to auburn locks at remembering the one time he ventured to Coigach and swam against an unforgiving tide that left him wretching." It's a stench of brined fish that clings to yer skin and nose night and day."

Claire dismissed his lack of enthusiasm and barraged Ned with questions of roving seas and cities far larger then Inbhir Nis packed with people of every walk of life.

"M' dear Claire, are ye sure you want to fly home so soon?" Ned had jested.

"Of course I do." She spoke defensively earning a regarding glance from Jamie. "I don't see why I can't enjoy myself along the way?"

Before her world narrowed to a single point in space that beckoned her and haunted her at night. A feeling of longing that would melt away with sunrise as it kissed her skin and awakened Jamie, a drowsy mornin' gracing his lips.

"Rightly so. The whole world awaits us, but first let us celebrate you and the lads survival with another round." Ned departed with a noticeable bounce to his step that creaked the floor boards beneath.

Claire turned to Jamie his forefinger tapping the rim of his cup.

"What is it? Can the waves be really that abhorrent?" She teased.

"Aye it can and more so, though that's no' what's fully on my mind. It's my mother. I must go home and speak to her of what ye shared with me, especially now that we must take to the sea. A scratch on parchment willna do, I must see her in person and make plans to care for her even if she argues like a banshee that she needs no' assistance." And she will.

"Of course. Go to her, Jamie." She encouraged.

"Arrangements still need to be made for passage to Gaul. I'm sure Ned would'na mind yer company, he might insist on it." Jamie grinned then quickly turned pink. "Or if yer no' tired of me ye could go wi' me to Lallybroch. It's no' much to see in ways of folk or grandeur just the same hills ye've seen before…" He trailed off with a mumbled 'but only if ye like.'

"The same hills you wished were covered in lavender and heather for the flutterbys and bee's to feast upon? How they stretched to the horizon to meet the mountains? If so I would like nothing more." She answered resolutely.

Jamie cleared his throat of every word passed in lonely nights of prayer to her and hoped Ned would hurry on.

"Then it's settled, Sorcha."

With that, Claire finally took a cautious sip and much like the juice of the apple that she had devoured with barely a care for air, she felt her body sing with pleasure. More so. And more so still.

"Good whiskey, aye?" Jamie asked, watching Claire's rapturous enjoyment spread along her face.

"Can we bring this when we leave?"

______

Ned had given Claire his room, which she retired to earlier with a promise of a bath that left her sighing' while Jamie took the smaller one opposite hers. When asked where he would sleep Ned had waved his hands with a cheeky grin, something about a lucky day, and bid him goodnight.

Jamie climbed the long winding stairs, an endless torture to a body eager for bed, and wobbled slightly at the top in decision. Before sense could reach his brain he walked down the hall to a door that he had no key for and knocked.

The door opened wide and Jamie wished he had listened to sense.

Claire wore an oversized robe over a clean white shift. Her porcelain skin, scrubbed clean and fresh, peeked along her neck and legs while her hair was still an intimidating thunder he itched to touch, all framed by a budding fire.

She caught his staring and pulled at the robe as if to curtsy, informing him the clothing had been procured by Ned, ever the gentleman.

"I dinna mean to bother ye." His eyes looking for a distraction that wasn't front and center. "I only meant to tell you I'll be just 'cross the hall if ye need me."

"Stay for a moment longer, please?" Claire pulled at his arm." Nights are still like day for me and the whiskey, however fine, did nothing to aid me."

"Ye ken it wouldna be proper." Claire rolled her eyes of spiced honey or was it burnished gold. Rich, heady whiskey of the night, as they whittled away any notions of propriety.

"We're above a tavern and your friend is currently housed in a bawdy house of joy." She laughed at seeing Jamie's brows arch past his hairline. "We've slept next to each other these past few days what's another hour."

Letting out a breathy exhale as an answer, Claire plopped down and padded the space next to her on the soft feather bed. Jamie joined her stiff as an aldur, his weight sinking the bed, rolling Claire into his shoulder and in response she twined her arm with his. Natural and innocent as his cheetie Adso when he'd curl in his lap dozy from milk, but a deepening intimacy all the same and he sank further into the sheets, breath a little more shallow.

"Shall I tell ye a story to droop yer eyes? Or maybe a healthy debate of who Thistle is more fond of?"

"There's no debate, Thistle is in love with me and we plan on going off into the sunset together." Claire chuckled into his sleeve, enjoying the warmth of him that put the hearth to shame.

"So story is it? What could I say to a star who has seen all. Ye surely ken all the sonnets, every myth before it became so, every hero when they were but a bairn." Jamie tipped his head back to the headboard, staring at a crack in the ceiling that resembled the crest of hills of home.

"We stars aren't voyeurs and your world isn't the only one of interest."

Jamie quirked his head up, full of curiosity. "Do folk walk on their hands and speak in clicks and whistles or do they soar free, gilded in feathers like proper popinjays?" Claire thumbed the cuff of his sleeve, grimed and fraying at the edges.

"More like vast stretches of empty plains and mountainous glaciers of numbing blue that cover the whole of planets and moons. Skies of smoky embers, others of gaseous smog, dense and stormy. It's beautiful, quiet, souless with no one to live and thrive there." Her voice was somber and far away as she spoke, drawing shapes and curves on his still splintered palm, lost in vibrance of hues and places that he could never see. That she may never see again.

"What must ye think of us lowly lot compared to infinity." Jamie's low timbre shook her out of reverie. He captured her idle fingers threading them with his, bringing her to the present.

"You lowly lot have an unrivaled beauty all your own. Even if you tend to ruin yourselves more often then not."

"Did ye look upon me, past the nights I spoke wi' ye?" He whispered.

"Only when you called." She untangled herself away from him and propped up against her hand, springing back to humor. "And the few times you asked for the strength of twenty men to best those horrid boys who harassed you."

"Was that you then?" Jamie turned and mirrored her frame, blue eyes shining at the memory of giving Rabbie and his brothers more of a bloody brawl then a scuffle.

"Sadly, no. I can't grant harm, death or love and you wanted to break their arms and fling them over the mountain tops. I couldn't make it true no matter if the brutes deserved it." Claire tucked a tawny lock behind her ear and coyly added," However, I had to peek to see if you prevailed or not."

"Aye, and what did ye think? Did I entertain ye?" He asked.

"You walloped them splendidly." Claire giggled falling back into the bed. Jamie was pleased at that. Smug, the more Claire laughed till her face stained of wine.

The soft crackle and hiss of fire filled the air as laughter died down, a pleasant peace. Claire looked to the squiggled line overhead that reminded her of aquarius and a question was brought forward.

"There is one thing unknown to me, to all of us, that I've always been curious about?"

"Aye?"

"How did your mother and father meet?"

"Ye dinna ken?"

"Your father kept what he was doing from prying eyes. Set every God and star in panic that he was in rebellion and bent on chaos." Claire shuddered at the memory.

"It wasna like that." Jamie shook his head." He only wanted a kiss from his beloved, no other request he asked of her and she agreed, completely smitten by a man of fire. "He could hear his mother's voice consumed with love in countless retellings." Their souls became one, lived a lifetime of happiness, sorrow and love in that kiss. Tis why she accepted his gift, a ray of their flaming hearts. Me." He scoffed unconvincingly, even to his own ears.

Claire's hand echoed their first meeting and caressed him from temple to cheek. Jame leaned into her touch and held it in place, seeking her strength as he always did.

A raucous chorus from down the hallway had them jumping away from one another in a fluster and Jamie took it as a sign. He left the bed, strode to the the door, boots heavy and hard against the floor, when her voice broke his stride.

"Jamie, out of all the others, why on me did you call?"

He paused before turning to her, his eyes catching the glare of the hearth enriching them to a fierce blue.

"You were nestled between Sirius and Canopus, they burned like white fire, loud and obnoxious but you - you had a gentle glow about ye like a halo. I thought ye heavenly and maybe a friend who would listen," he smiled. "And ye did."

"Sweet dreams Prìseil Sorcha." Jamie made a small bow of his head and softly closed the door.

Claire pressed her palms to her heated cheeks, fingertips brushing against dampen lashes as she turned back to the bed where they had just laid side by side, when her eyes caught the blue vase of wilted flowers. The stalks were vibrant green and tall. The flowers were overgrown with bloom shaded in sapphires, rubies and amethysts. Claire traced their petals of silk, every stroke gaining traction in her heart mingling with his words of…

She became illuminated, a loving glow that grew brighter and brighter with every thrum of a heart beating stronger and stronger.

A/N:

* Parisii is the ancient name for Paris

* The first woman was thought to come from a Rowan tree in norse mythology hence mother divinity. First man, ash tree.

Thank you to everyone who reads and supports this story!!

Also, how do you do the keep reading thing? It never links back to the proper chapter.

[omnistory000]

Spooktober - Day 8 - Haunted House

More Ladywitch/Cursed Cat AU!

Ao3

As one of the chosen witches to act as a Guide this year, she knew she could not fail.

~~~~

“Looks like this is the place,” Marinette mused, looking back and forth between an address written on a piece of paper she held in her hand and the rickety old house she stood in front of.

Chat Noir pressed himself against her leg, letting out a concerned mrrow in response.

“Don’t worry, kitty,” Marinette reassured, bending down to scratch behind his ear. “I’ve done this before. I’m just here to get them across safely.”

Marinette was chosen to be this year’s Spirit Guide, an important position that oversees the safe passage of stray or lost spirits into the afterlife. This was usually for spirits dwelling in houses set for demolition, as they would be left wandering once their homes were destroyed. In previous years, she had only been chosen twice, but she picked up on it rather quickly.

“Now, let’s get going,” she said, putting away the paper and making her way up the porch steps. The wood creaked loudly under their feet, each step taken with precaution.

Once in front of the door, Marinette splayed her hand out against its surface, a ripple of light spreading out from beneath her palm. The door fell backwards directly off its hinges, landing on the floor with a loud thud!

The witch carefully stepped inside the dark space with her feline companion following after, an orb of flame igniting above her palm as she held up her hand. She then let the orb float above them, illuminating their surroundings.

One way led up a flight of stairs while another led down a long hallway with a set of doors. Marinette would have to walk through every room of the house to make sure no spirits were left behind.

But first, she had to find the host spirit.

“Ladybug? Are you Ladybug?”

Marinette’s gaze shifted over to a little boy that was sitting on the bottom stair, shyly holding on to a baluster.

He definitely hadn’t been there before.

Next to her, Chat Noir’s eyes were on the spirit as well, his hackles rising but not hissing.

“Hello,” Marinette greeted with a friendly smile. “You’ve heard of me?”

“People have been saying that there was a nice lady with pigtails and blue eyes going around and helping others. Said that her name was Ladybug.” The boy’s eyes brightened. “Is it… Are you here to help us now?”

Marinette’s smile softened and she nodded. “Yup.”

“Oh, awesome!” The boy stood up, excited. “Follow me, Miss! The rest of my folks can’t wait to meet you!”

He then ran up the stairs, disappearing into the darkness.

Marinette exchanged a look with Chat Noir before following. As they made their way up the steps, she waved her hands in front of her, summoning another orb of light. This one was pulsating with a softer glow, and she held it directly in her palms.

Upon reaching the top of the stairs, they looked around, wondering where the little boy went.

“Ladybug, over here!”

The two turned to see the boy waiting in front of a door, beckoning to them. Once they obliged, the boy phased inside, the door slowly creaking open afterwards.

It was a bedroom, and it seemed much darker than the rest of the house, more stifling. The boy, however, continued to call out cheerfully, “Hey, everyone! Ladybug’s here!”

Little wisps of light with hair-thin tendrils poked out of their hiding places, curious as they drifted out into the open. They then swirled around Marinette excitedly, each pulsating at random times.

The witch embraced their whispers, listening intently as they told brief stories of their own. Some even played with Chat Noir, acting as makeshift kitty toys so he could bat at them.

Once all the spirits in the room were gathered around the two, the little boy beckoned for them to follow him to the next room.

This went on in a cycle of repetition. For each room the little boy led them into, spirits would come out and greet them, joining their growing procession. By the time they were going through the rooms downstairs, the house seemed a lot more lively.

After every area of the house was thoroughly swept for spirits, Marinette gathered them all outside. Being out in the open seemed to uplift the spirits a bit, and some of them even swayed with satisfaction. The little boy himself seemed to relish the freedom from the stiffness of the house, his eyes closing with a relieved slump in his shoulders.

Marinette smiled at their contentment before looking down at the orb in her palms, its glow having gotten brighter. She then closed her eyes and began to chant, her voice echoing despite whispering.

Chat Noir kept himself pressed against her leg as a breeze began to pick up out of nowhere, circling around her and flowing through his fur.

The orb pulsated faster and faster, increasing the longer Marinette chanted. This went on for a few more minutes before she stopped and immediately let the orb drop from her hold.

It sank through the ground, leaving a rippling aftereffect that created a glowing white circle marked with ancient runes. Marinette stepped slightly away from the center, allowing a bright undulating light to filter through.

She then made eye contact with the little boy, gesturing to the light.

“This will lead you to the other place,” she explained. “I’ll see to it that you all get there safely.”

The little boy immediately nodded, smiling widely. “I trust you. And thanks a lot, Ladybug. Come on, everybody!”

He stepped forward, reaching for the light. The minute his fingers made contact, his form faded away, the light brightening for a second before dimming back to normal again.

Slowly, the other spirits followed suit, each one disappearing in a burst of mist upon touching the light. Marinette encouraged the ones that were hesitant while Chat Noir took the more fragile ones on his back and walked them over to the light himself.  

As the last of the spirits departed, a gust of wind suddenly bursted from the entrance of the house, where a shadowy figure rushed at one of the remaining ones.

Marinette quickly slid in front of it and summoned two more orbs, one glowing yellow and the other glowing red. She hurled the yellow one first, watching it shatter upon contact and freezing the figure in place.

“Begone, demon,” she spat before launching the red orb, shattering it against the figure’s face.

The Hellspawn bursted into flames. Its cries of agony were otherworldly, inhuman, slowly fading as the demon disintegrated into ash. Little remained as it stopped smoldering, and once deemed safe, Marinette finally turned to gently usher the residual spirits into the light.

She paused as the last one briefly wrapped its tendrils around her fingers in gratitude before entering the afterlife, making her smile. She then bent down and planted her hand directly on the circle’s center, chanting a few short words.

Slowly, the wavering light shrunk down and faded, and the light of the circle dimmed until it completely disappeared.

As she straightened up, Chat Noir climbed his way up to her shoulder to nuzzle her cheek, purring deeply.

“Hehe, thanks, chaton. I’m all right,” Marinette reassured, stroking the cat’s fur. She then looked at the seemingly empty house, expression resolved as she noticed the dark aura still seeping out from the doorway.

“Looks like it’s time for a blessing.”

~~~~

Fun Ladywitch AU trivia fact: Marinette’s title is “Ladybug, the Witch of Material Creation.” She can create things as long as she has the base materials for them, no matter how small the size or amount is compared to what’s required. For creating non-material type magic, she uses her own raw signature magical energy as a basis, which leaves her exhausted for a few days afterwards.

However, she mostly prefers to make her creations by hand.

[blessed-but-distressed]

Spellbound (1/?)

A/N: A new multi-chapter, written with the express purpose of helping Amy smile. And/or after a little bit of dramatic tension. I hope you enjoy this first taste, @forestiyari.

Zelena has cursed the lips of everyone’s favorite captain. But when he fails to seal the deal, a magical fail-safe is enacted. Kinda hard to avoid someone when you’re cursed to stay within five feet of each other at all times, right?  Season Three Captain Swan Canon Divergence. PG. 

also on ff.net

FORTY MINUTES IN - GRANNY’S

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Emma Swan was cursed. She’d always kinda thought so, what with the whole abandoned-at-birth, framed-for-my-boyfriend’s-crime, my-parents-are-fairytale-royalty thing. What else would her life be, but a huge practical joke at her expense? But no, that wasn’t bad enough. Let’s throw in an actual curse.

Emma was in absolutely no mood to be stuck in a room with a swaggering pirate captain she’d once read about as a kid. She didn’t need his witty retorts, or earnest compliments. She didn’t need to feel his eyes on her, lingering long after she’d finished speaking. She didn’t need Captain Freaking Hook complicating her already complicated life. Especially not after he’d been keeping secrets from her that had nearly put her son in mortal danger.

It figured, really. That it would be him.

If Emma had even tried to name all the people she wouldn’t want to be in a room with right then, Zelena would be number one, with a bullet. But even then, at least maybe she’d get a chance to finally end things. Once and for all.

Number two on the list?

Hook.

So it figured he would be the one she was stuck with, magically speaking.

At first, the cause hadn’t really registered. One second she’d been picking around in the ashes left behind from one of the flying monkeys she’d shot. The next she’d doubled over, her parents immediately at her side, their worried murmurings not helping her urge to throw up.

But it hadn’t taken long to figure it out. The sight of her on her knees, hands scrabbling for purchase on the cracked concrete floor as she fought to fill her lungs, was more than enough to send that pirate running.

It didn’t matter that she’d pretty much just told him she never wanted to see him again. He still came to kneel beside her, concern etched all over that pretty face. But something else too. If it was anyone else, she might have said he looked scared. The second his hand made contact with her forearm, the symptoms vanished. Oxygen, sweet oxygen, wended its way back into her system. She gave a spluttering, relieved laugh and she rolled over onto her back, gulping down lungful after lungful of  precious, delicious air.

“Swan?” But even as his face hovered into view, her eyes meeting his, she knew what this was. Magic. The most vindictive kind.

It took a little while for the panic in her parent’s eyes to recede, before she could explain her theory. She tested it herself, alternating who did the leaving. Each time, the one left behind was weakened. And for the one attempting to leave, it was like walking into a plate glass window. She just couldn’t.

So… it looked like her and Hook were stuck together, for the time being. Or within about five feet of each other, give or take.

“What do you mean, you don’t know what it is?”

It had taken a little while to assemble everyone. Granny’s, of course. No strategy meeting was complete without the addition of waffle fries and a trio of dwarves inviting themselves along. And Regina hadn’t exactly been happy for the interruption to her long overdue reunion with Henry. He was there too, tucked into a corner booth with his phone, trying to look as unobtrusive as possible. Robin Hood had come along too. Regina’s new squeeze. That would take some getting used to.  

“The witch’s idea of a fitting punishment, I suppose,” Hook mused, careful not to make eye contact from where he stood leaning against the counter. “I refused to enact her curse, so she wove a fail-safe into the spell. Something she thought might increase her odds.”

“Increase her odds? Is she insane? If I’m stuck within a five foot radius of you for the foreseeable future, I’m a hell of a lot more likely to kill you than kiss you.”

“That’s an intriguing idea…” Regina began.

“Hey, hey,” David said, stepping between them his arms raised in a defensive gesture. “No one is killing anyone. There’s got to be a way to reverse the spell, right? Belle?”

She looked at little surprised to be called on, in the middle of all the squabbling. “Uh.. it’s possible. It’s not too different from a containment spell. I know Rumple had a few books in the shop…”

“Great. Regina, Belle, you head to Gold’s shop and try to find something useful. In the meantime…” David grimaced, turning back to where Emma was stabbing at her waffle fries with deadly intent. “I guess I’m playing babysitter.”

“I can hardly wait,” Hook drawled, picking up a set of darts and taking aim. “First to 500, your majesty?”

TWO HOURS IN - GRANNY’S

Okay, so David wasn’t that great at dispersing awkward tension. If anything, he seemed to lean into the uncomfortable silences, his pointed remarks only drawing more attention to them. And he wasn’t very gracious in defeat either, sulking moodily as Hook tallied his winnings. Pirate.

It was almost a relief when Mary Margaret called.

He looked between the two of them, uncertain. “It’s probably just Braxton Hicks. Maybe I should just stay. I’m sure it’-”

“Dad, we’re fine.” It was a lousy trick, but pulling the Dad card always softened him up. And then, a little quieter she added, “I’m not going to murder him with Henry right here. Besides, I thought we might go out to the cemetery. Let Henry say goodbye properly?”

The lump in her throat still wouldn’t let her say his name. It was all still so raw. The anger. The grief. And sure, maybe a little relief as well. God, how she hated herself for that.

David nodded sagely, a hand coming up to clap her on the shoulder. “Call if you need anything, okay?” He narrowed his eyes in Hook’s direction. “And I mean anything.”

Emma resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “We’ll be fine. I promise. Go take care of Mary Margaret.”

He hesitated, but only for a moment. He extracted similar promises from Henry, and then he was gone, in a flash of flannel and a squeal of tires.

Still avoiding Hook’s gaze, she turned to her son instead, still wrapped up in his phone. “Hey kid, you feel like going for a walk?”

She didn’t ask Hook his opinion. He could trail at a respectful distance, or he could lay writhing on the floor. It was his call.

[thestalkerbunny]

A tiny for elemental that rides atop a big wax golem

A Water Witch who must escort a Flame Element and her Wax Golem Carrier to a holy pyre.

I wrote a thing also to elaborate. It is old and hastily finished, but mostly done.

"Does it bother you?" The Water Witch inquired quietly. The Flame elemental looked at the Water Witch with vauge disintrest. The Water Witch wasn't her first choice in 'magical escort protection' and she certainly wasn't pleasing to the eye. The Witch's skin was practically water logged and sallow looking in the dim light that emniated from the Flame's form and the meager Campfire that the Water Witch had set up reluctant upon the Flame's demand. Her finger tips always wrinkled and her hair hung in ugly strands, clumped together from the dampness that she was absorbing from the air itself. The Fish that lived in the tip of her staff swum lazy circles, half asleep itself. To be honest, the Flame loathed the way the Water Witch always stared at her; those eyes like a dead fish, glazed and bored.

"What does?" She inquired sweetly, laying her head on the shoulder of the golem. The Golem did not move as the wax began to sweat at her touch. The Witch's dull green eyes glanced up from beneath the brim of that soggy old looking hat that dropped at the edges.

"That you're killing him."

The Flame's bright shining yellow eyes fluttered for a minute, her colors flickered and crackled in the dry air. She quietly digested the question before smiling kindly at the Water Witch.

"It's of no real concern of you, now is it?" She cooed. "You're just supposed to escort me and my vessal to the sacred pillar on the mountain side. And there I shall light the pyre that will bring forth the Harvest God's Blessings." The Witch didn't smile or seem to accept that answer, so the Flame quickly changed her tune. "And besides, aren't you witches all about 'the natural order?" Her fingers crackled and flicked as she made airquotes. "This is just what happens naturally. The fox eats the rabbit, the fox dies and the grass eats the dead fox. Circle of life." The Witch's lips-possibly the only thing remotely pretty about her, tinted a pale cold blue-pursed tightly.

"That rule only truly applies to creatures that are in nature. To beings who do not require civilization to function properly." The Water Witch said dryly. "The Fox kills the rabbit because that is how it is done. However, civilized beings do not always have to kill the rabbit because they know other ways to get food."

"But something always suffers." The Flame retorted, laying a hand on the golem, The golem's waxy skin melting into an indentation of her flickering hand print. "Somebody always has to pay so others can live. I will live while my golem melts away carrying me to my destination as it should be. The Fire will melt the wax, but the fire will also burn grass into ash that will be used to fertilize the fields for harvest. And he would have it no other way."

The Witch looked at the Wax golem. It was twice as tall as both the Witch and the Flame combined and then more so-but before the Flame, it was probably twice as tall. Sculpted in the form of a muscular man, detailed clothing intricantly carved into the wax flesh to mimic a roman soildjer of sorts. The face was almost completely gone and only thick waxy strands remained as thru out the entiretity of the trip, the Flame had rode on it's shoulders and kissed and teased at the face in a faux loving manner. By the time they reached the Pyre on the mountain side, the golem would be gone completely. The Witch had to stop and reattach his arms twice and his leg once yesterday since the Flame continued to prance around him and melt away at his skin. He was magnificent once, beautiful and possibly the pride of whatever artesean created him. Now he looked sad and pathetic.

"He hasn't the voice to say otherwise."

"He doesn't need a voice to speak his mind." The Flame hissed, suddenly defensive. "He is HAPPIEST when he is fufilling his purpose and that is THAT." The flame slid away from her Golem and onto a pile of leaves, setting it ablaze quickly and laying down in the ash. "good NIGHT, Water Witch." And then promptly rolled over.

The flame from the Elemental's body still flickered. Light cast over the Wax Golem and the Water Witch as they stared at each other-one with no eyes or face and the other with eyes the color of the swamp.

"Goodnight, Flame." She mused quietly. "Good night, Golem."

-

The Golem was dying and the Witch was watching him fall apart as he staggered, still carrying the Flame. The Witch stepped around every other puddle of wax that dripped off his body, careful not to get any on her boots. Part from vanity since these were a gift from her Coven Mother, crafted from Sea Snake Skin and enchanted to ensure her socks never get soggy-but mostly out of respect of the dying. Her fish familiar still in her staff had changed shape again. At the beginning of the trip, he had been a lovely little goldfish with large observant eyes. Now he was something between a cleaner shark or a lionfish-he seemed to be unable to make up his mind on what he was feeling.

Well, what she was feeling. They say people's pets end up looking like them. For Familiars-they sometimes took the shape of how their master was FEELING.

And at the moment, the Water Witch could just wring the little Flame's neck.

She watched as the Flames slender orangey fingers tease and dance over the carved muscles of the Golem-melting away the gently crafted detail and burn her own designs into his flesh like gawdy tattooing. Every now and then, The Flame would cast a glance over her shoulder at the Witch and then lean over, kissing at his melted away face.

At this rate, he wouldn't make it to the Pyre.

The Witch snapped to attention when she realized she was in front and the Golem was behind her. The Golem was slowing down. The Flame frowned when she realized her mount wasn't keeping pace.

"go FASTER!" She complained loudly. She smacked him several times to try to urge him along. The Golem struggled in stride-the Flame almost like a massive weight, crushing him. The Witch had to stop walking to wait for him to catch up.

This happened 3 more times.

The Golem was a mess. It couldn't stand up straight, most of it's broad shoulders had been melted away and it had resorted to carrying the Flame cradled in his arms like a kitten. And now the heat of her body was burning away at his torso, making his form and frame even more weakened.

The Flame was humming a pretty little song as her steed was dying-holding her in his arms. She was crackling the air with conjured fire like nothing was wrong as another being suffered in her name.

The Water Witch stopped in her tracks.

"Emet, Halt."

The golem stopped dead in it's tracks-but the gravity of his now top heavy body propelled forward. The Flame suddenly shrieked as her Golem fell over foward on top of her, doing a tumble and practically crushing her in the process. The Flame flared up indignantly as the Golem lay a few feet away from her on it's back, leaving her in the dirt.

"DAMN YOUR WAX, YOU USELESS GOLEM, YOU DROPPED ME IN THE DIRT! I COULD HAVE GONE OUT-GET UP YOU-" She shrieked hysterically. The Golem struggled to right itself again, trying to push up on the one good arm-the other had broken off a few feet away.

"Emet, do not get up. Stay there." The Witch Calmly said. The Golem stopped and laid quietly back down. Within a few steps, the Witch stood before the Flame. The two stared at each other-one too spoilt and upset to stand up on her own and the other, standing in a pair of sea snake boots.

The Witch pulled back her boots and kicked up some dirt.

The Flame shrieked.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING YOU HAG?!" She howled as the Witch kicked the dirt again and again into the Flame's body. The Water Witch said nothing, but continued to kick dirt at the Flame.

The Flame's body grew smaller and smaller with each layer of dirt kicked upon her-her body choking and sputtering out from the sudden cut off of oxygen. She began to gasp and struggle to breathe as more dirt was layered on-she felt pathetic and weak, she couldn't even see straight. She was going to die on this dirt road.

The Flame's eyes weren't working, but she felt something pick her up like a kitten and place her somewhere dry-but oddly damp. As her eyes readjusted, she realized she was standing on the tip of a wick, drenched in oil. She reached out but her hand stopped short as something clear and hard kept her from continuing forward.

"What did you do?" She quivered, her voice several octives higher than normal. "WHAT DID YOU DO?!!?" She wailed.

She was trapped. Inside a little oil lamp. A lamp-of all the indignity of it all-meant for COAL MINERS. She shrieked and howled and tried to conjur her flames higher, but could barely get above an ember to come out. The Flame pressed her face against the murky glass to see where she was. She gasped quietly.

The Lamp was firmly fixed on the Water Witch's belt.

The Flame watched bitterly as the Water Witch carefully collected and scooped the Golem up, dragging him away from the middle of the road.

"DONT YOU TOUCH HIM, HE IS MINE! LET ME OUT AND GIVE HIM BACK TO ME!!" The Flame pipped. The Water Witch seemed to pay no heed to the Flame's rants. Rather, she was focused on the golem. The Witch was carefullly trying to shape and restabilize the wax into his form; sculpting as best she could. He just needed to get to the town. He just needed to be stable long enough to carry himself to the town. Her Fish, which had become an monkfish during the frenzy, had returned to a pretty little goldfish and swam in circles, watching her mend the Golem

"You used to be something wonderful." The Water Witch whispered softly. "Do you remember? The village where you were carved and sculpted from the earth? They made you in the mirror of a warrior-of a protector. You kept the village so safe during the war-no Kingless Knight dared to pillage the town, no child was ever taken by the true monster of man." She plapped on another big handful of wax, it dribbled a bit-but it held strong as it was packed into his ribcage area. "They used to hold a big festival once a year, remembering your honor on the same day the War Ended, drinking and singing. I dont know if you remember, you were ordered to sleep after the war ended and never woken again-your prize after all those years of service being an endless rest. But they sang those praises for a great warrior."

The Water Witch smiled as she continued her work, reaching up to brush a long strand of wax that had begun to drip down in front of her face.

"You know, I grew up there. All those years ago, when I was a little girl. Before we moved to the Ocean to be closer to the Coven." She smoothed the clay over. Stable at last. It was just a patch job, but without the Flame destroying him, it would hold long enough for them to get to a Wax Worker. "It was the saddest day of my life when we got that letter from our Uncle that you had been stolen." Water Witch stood up and brushed her knees off; the flame still shrieking and cursing her name from the lantern. The Witch pulled her staff from the ground and held out her hand.

"Come, Emet." She ordered. The Wax Golem reached out and took her hand, pulling himself up.

The Water Witch and the Golem walked hand in hand down the road.

　

[lunarlooroo]

I loved your response to the prompt about jealous!Snape so I was wondering if you could flip the prompt and do jealous!Heather? It would be a delightful reversal of the trope, and honestly I'm living for awkward!Snape who has no clue how to deal with these situations. I'm pretty sure post-battle warhero Severus Snape is bound to receive some attention. And I'd love to see Heather react to all that! Thank you again for all of your amazing writing!

It was something Heather liked to tease Severus about, his sudden popularity. After the whole truth about his real loyalties and all the effort he put into helping them win the war, it came as no surprise when countless gifts of appreciation started streaming in. Sure, there was still a sizeable faction that had their doubts about his true nature. However, a growing number of people admired him for his work. He was just as likely to receive sneers as well as smiles while walking down the road.

Perhaps more surprising to some was the demographic of Severus’ admirers. They were mostly young to middle-aged witches, both single and married. Heather didn’t find it hard to believe that so many people were suddenly trying to seek his favour. To her, it was plainly obvious how brave, noble, intelligent and attractive he was. Unlike everyone else, however, she had seen all that before he was an acknowledged war hero.

As yet another owl struggling under the weight of its burden flew straight towards him, Heather didn’t bother to hide her giggle. The man looked so utterly fed up that she just couldn’t help herself! That was the third one this week, and it was only Thursday.

He never opened the gifts he received, opting to let the house elves handle them as needed. It was a good thing, as she had heard from Mipsy that one of them had contained a few, shall we say, less-than-appropriate articles of clothing – which hadn’t been washed. Other things like sweets or books were donated to the school after being vetted for safety.

“Who is it from this time?” she asked, leaning over to read the attached card.

Severus grunted, thrusting it at her. “See for yourself.”

She burst into laughter when she set eyes on it. Enclosed in the card was a picture. Not just any picture. A moving wizarding picture of the sender in a rather risqué pose. Objectively, the woman was rather beautiful, all curves and dips in the right places. Pink pouty lips blowing the camera a kiss.

Heather found it hilarious. Quite a few people had asked her if she felt jealous that Severus was getting so much attention from all those women, but they clearly didn’t see how disgusted he was by it all. If looks could burn, the photo in her hands would be ashes with how much Severus was glaring at it.

Which was why when the next package arrived, she was surprised to see Severus accept it graciously, after a cursory glance at the sender’s name.

“Who is that from?” She watched as he slipped the small parcel into his pockets, curious about what it contained.

“Narcissa Malfoy.”

Her eyebrows lifted in surprise at that. “Draco’s mother?”

Severus nodded curtly as he pushed his chair back. “Excuse me, I shall take my leave first. I have a few things to tend to today, but I left a few instructions for you in the lab. I will be back for dinner.” With that, he strode out of the Great Hall, leaving a puzzled Heather in his wake.

Heather lingered a little over her breakfast, musing over Severus’ odd actions. Usually, when he had instructions for her, they were something new he wanted to teach. Hence, he would be with her to make sure she knew what to do before leaving her to it. This was a first.

“Alright there, Heather?” Headmistress McGonagall, or Minerva, as she insisted, asked.

“Yes, I’m fine.” Come to think of it, the older witch had been Severus’ teacher. Heather wondered if she knew anything about this. “I have a question. Were Severus and Mrs Malfoy friends in school?”

Minerva gave her an amused smile. “Yes, I believe they were. Or as much as a halfblood and a pureblood could be, in Slytherin. They tried to play it off as a mutually beneficial acquaintanceship, but I could tell they did enjoy each other’s company beyond that.”

Heather thought about those words as she made her way back to the dungeons. She had only met Narcissa Malfoy twice, after the Battle of Hogwarts and during the court trial that acquitted both her and Draco of any crime. Lucius Malfoy had been sentenced to a few years in Azkaban, but that was unavoidable, given his active and willing participation in the war.

She didn’t know much about the woman, but she remembered being impressed by the poise and dignity she maintained, even as she faced the jeering crowd in the courtroom. That, and she could admire a woman who was willing to risk her life for the safety of her son.

What she hadn’t expected was for Severus and Narcissa Malfoy to be close friends, though. She could see how it worked, now that she thought about it. They had quite a few similarities, despite their difference in background. Both trapped by circumstances of their birth. Narcissa, third born daughter, destined to be married off as a pawn for political gain. Severus, poor halfblood sorted to a house where blood purity reigned supreme. Both willing to do anything necessary to protect those they loved.

She wondered, for a moment, if they’d had something more between them than friendship. Something that could have blossomed had it not been for their difference in station. Picturing them standing side-by-side, she found that they looked very suited to each other.

An ugly burst of emotion had her scowling at the thought.

What did she, a girl half his age, still in the middle of her apprenticeship – to Severus himself, no less – have to offer a man like him? Unconsciously, she found herself thinking about the racy picture that had been sent to him earlier. The voluptuous figure of the woman, where it had made her laugh just an hour before, only made her self-conscious now. Due to her upbringing at the Dursleys, her stature had remained on the short side, with barely any figure to speak of. Her waif-like physique only made her look younger than she was.

She couldn’t help but compare that to Narcissa Malfoy, a rather tall woman, whom while petite, was far Heather’s own stick-like figure. If stood next to each other, Heather would look comically like a little girl playing at womanhood. While she was rarely one to pay attention to her appearance, in this instance, she felt acutely lacking.

Perhaps Severus had gone out to meet Narcissa? It wasn’t a farfetched conclusion to come to. Her husband was stuck firmly in prison for the foreseeable future, and Heather and Severus hadn’t made each other any promises, besides.

It was a bitter pill to swallow.

~~~

Heather had been distracted all day with thoughts of what Severus could possibly be doing and if he was doing it with Narcissa Malfoy. The so-called tasks Severus had for her were little more than grunt work. It seemed too much like he just wanted to occupy her with mindless work for the day.

Well, he needn’t have bothered. If he’d just said that he didn’t want to be disturbed, she would have left him alone. She wouldn’t go where she wasn’t welcome.

It was evening by the time she slogged through the chore list. Opting for a quick shower to wash off the day’s grime before dinner, she was surprised to see a house elf waiting patiently outside her rooms. He passed her a short note before blinking away.

For some reason, Severus had chosen to pass her notes like they were still students rather than talk to her directly. For a moment, she had the childish urge to ball the paper up and throw it in the fireplace. That was silly though, because as far as she knew, Severus could have simply gone out to restock his potions supplies or any other boring errand. All her thoughts about Narcissa Malfoy or other women were just her wild imaginings.

The note said to meet him at his quarters before going dinner. It was an odd request, but she would see what he wanted. Hopefully a bath would clear her head. She didn’t really want to go into this frustrated.

It gave her some time to think, so she stepped out of her bathroom with a calm heart. There was no use jumping to conclusions right now. Honestly, her earlier suspicions seemed very stupid from where she was now. She wasn’t usually this irrational, but then, love did strange things to a person.

Still, she put on one of her prettier dresses and put her hair up in a nice braid before making her way to Severus’. A girl didn’t need reasons to dress up.

As she approached Severus’ door, she felt the unmistakeable tingle of magic. How peculiar for him to have a proximity ward up.

‘Something to hide,’ a traitorous part of her mind whispered.

To no surprise at all, he opened the door before she even knocked. The moment he set eyes on her, however, he half-frowned.

“You found out,” he said, disgruntled.

Three words. Just 11 letters. They had her heart rabbiting in her chest. What did he mean? Found out what? Dread took root as she considered the words. Did he mean Narcissa Malfoy? Were her suspicions actually right?

“You were acting odd today,” she settled on saying. She clasped her hands behind her back to keep the trembling out of view.

Sighing, the man stepped back to let her in. “I should have known you would not miss that.”

Of course not. Few paid him more attention than she did. She had seen him at his worst and his best. She would think she knew what he looked like when he was hiding something. She kept her silence as he guided her further into his rooms with a hand on her back. Any other time, she would have enjoyed it. Now, though, it felt too much like a gentle let down. Just as the elegant dinner set out across his dining table would have been romantic under other circumstances.

“Very beautiful,” she said sincerely. Despite the ache growing in her chest, she could appreciate the effort he put into making this as nice a rejection as possible.

“Thank you. I had help.” He even pulled her seat out like a proper gentleman.

And because she was a masochist, she asked, “Was it Narcissa Malfoy?”

It was, of course. She didn’t know what else she had expected to hear.

The meal was lovely, as expected of a perfectionist like Severus. She smiled at him, laughed when he made snarky quips. She acted like it was any other day. For now, she could pretend that this was just a thoughtful gesture on his part, perhaps even a romantic one. The illusion shattered once the last bite was taken.

“Heather, as I am sure you already know, I prepared this dinner for a reason.” He looked intently at her as he said this. “There is something I have been meaning to say for a while now, and I apologise for taking this long to tell you.”

She shook her head, tears in her eyes. It hurt that he had apparently been stringing her along for quite some time, but she couldn’t find it in herself to be angry. His gaze softened as he wiped some of her tears away. There, that was why she couldn’t get mad. Even when he was breaking her heart, he was being so nice about it.

Severus slid something across the table towards her. She recognised it as the package from this morning, from Narcissa Malfoy. Wildly, she wondered why the woman had thought to give her a gift in this scenario. Was it a wizarding custom she was unaware of? ‘I’m sorry I stole the love of your life, have some chocolate to eat your sorrows away’?

Nonetheless, she reached out to pick it up. With shaky fingers, she unwrapped the brown paper to reveal its contents. She gasped when her eyes fell upon the delicate filigree locket inside. Carefully, she clicked it open and saw that it was a picture of her parents on their wedding day. Suddenly, she realised that this necklace had belonged to her mother. It didn’t show any signs of age, however, looking almost brand new.

“Your grandparents gifted this to your mother on her wedding day. When I found it in the wreckage of Godric’s Hollow, it was in great disrepair. I asked Narcissa if she could find a jeweller to restore it to its original state.”

She fingered the platinum, touched. The gesture confused her a little, however. Why bother to go to such lengths? Still, she thanked him for the gift, though she wondered how she would be able to stand looking at it when it was connected to such a painful memory.

Severus stood and walked over to her side of the table. Kneeling in front of her, he took her hands in his. She braced herself, this was it. He’d finally say the words that would break her heart.

“Heather,” he began, and she couldn’t even tear her eyes away. She gripped his fingers tightly. “I love you.”

She froze at those words.

Then she burst into tears.

“Oh thank Merlin!” she sobbed.

The man was obviously bewildered by her reaction. “What?”

“I- I thought you were breaking up with me!” She threw her arms around him. “I love you too, you darling man.”

“Thank you, but wait. What?” he sputtered. “Why on earth would you think that?”

She ducked her head, embarrassed. “I was just being a right idiot. Ignore what I said.”

Severus pushed back a little to look at her face. “No, hold on. I thought you knew about my plans! That is why you are dressed so nicely, isn’t it?”

“A girl doesn’t need a reason to dress up!” Heather maintained. She wasn’t trying to compete with anyone, she wasn’t.

“Heather,” he said in reprimand.

She refused to look at him, staring at her lap. “Okay, so apparently you’re pretty close to Narcissa Malfoy. I may have jumped to a few conclusions.”

“Narcissa?” he frowned, “Let me assure you, she is firmly devoted to Lucius.” He tipped her chin up so he could look her in the eye. “As I am to you.”

Oh. Hastily, she wiped her tears away, feeling even sillier than before. “I can’t believe I ruined your surprise. And you went to such effort, too! This was all so very romantic.” She laughed, a tad hysterically.

“None of that now.” He pulled her hands away, keeping her from hiding her face. “I wouldn’t say it was ruined. I did manage to say what I wanted to, and I got my answer as well. I would count this as a success, wouldn’t you?”

“Well, if you put it that way…”

“Though I suppose there is something we missed out,” Severus added.

“Wha-”

Her question was swallowed when Severus leant in and joined their lips together. Her eyes fell shut as she savoured the kiss, bringing her hands up to cup his face. He seemed intent on chasing away any doubts she had for his feelings. It was working.

“I love you,” he reiterated, once they surfaced to breathe.

“Yes, I think I know now,” she said, grinning like a lunatic. “I love you too.” They stayed there, cradled in each other’s arms for a few moments before she broke the silence. “Does this mean I get to call you my boyfriend?”

Severus made a sound of disgust. “I would thank you not to refer to me with such a juvenile term. We are not fatuous third years.”

“Sweetheart then?” she asked cheekily.

“No part of me is sweet.”

Heather put a hand on his chest, right on top of where his heart beat. “I stand to differ, but if you don’t like that, then maybe…I’ll just call you mine.”

“Only if I may do the same.”

Heart soaring, she closed the distance between them again. “Deal.” And she sealed it with a kiss.