#my brother seemed very charmed by getting sent flowers on his birthday

[loki-zen]

so look, I may never get read as butch/GNC on the street bc i refuse to cut my hair, but I have proposed twice - to men - been the breadwinner in a relationship, and have bought people flowers more often than I have been bought flowers, so fuck off i guess

[multifandom-girlie]

𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐡 𝐅𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐬

Imagine:Imagine Requested by Anon. You move to New Orleans and meet Elijah who then introduces you to his younger brothers. You take him to your brothers wedding as your date but he also brings his brothers as plus ones.

Pairing: Elijah Mikaelson x Human!Reader

Warnings: None

Words: 3596

Edited: Yes

Hi! I'm sorry so for the long wait, this was a really good request and I wanted to make it perfect for you. Now I can honestly say it still isn't to the best of my ability but I was stumped half way through and had to power through it. Sorry about the length I wasn't planning for it to be this long but it just ended up being so. Anyway I really hope you enjoy! Please comment requests or what you think of the imagine please. Thank you !

Recently, I moved to New Orleans. I did so because I heard great things and I am not disappointed. I moved here right in Mardi Gras season so it was okay but it's been a couple of months now and the tingles of excitement thinking about living here is incredible. At this moment in time, I was walking my dog. Barney. He's a beautiful German Shepard, he's getting older now but he'll always be my baby. We were walking down bourbon street and I was looking at my phone to check the time when I bumped into a pristine looking man. I dropped my phone and started giggling nervously.

"I'm so sorry, sir."

I bent down to pick up my phone but as I did we bumped heads, seeming as he lowered to pick it up too. We both looked at each other and started laughing. It's like I came straight out of a high school romance movie.

"It's absolutely okay. I should've moved when I saw you on your phone. I couldn't help but be-and forgive me if I'm overstepping-but be captivatingly beautiful."

I couldn't stop or even stall the luminous red blush engulfing my cheeks. The wind picked up in time to cover my face with my Y/H/C coloured hair.

"Oh, uh thank you."

"Sorry I shouldn't of said it, that was out of line."

I giggled as he walked away.

"Wait ! It wasn't, I'm just not used to compliments from people I bump into on the street."

He looked down with his hands in his trouser pockets and blessed my Y/E/C eyes with his sweet and wide grin.

"Sorry. Let me make it up to you. Would you let me buy you a coffee ?"

I giggled and Barney started licking the man's hand.

"Barney ! Stop it baby."

He laughed.

"It's quite alright. So coffee ? We can have it to go if you'd like?"

I smiled and Barney sat down next to my legs.

"Uh yeah, that would be nice."

                                                         ***

"So you've bought me coffee and are walking around with me and I still don't know your name."

We laughed together.

"I apologise. My name's Elijah."

I looked at him in awe. His name was so beautiful and it matched his pristine look.

"I love your name, it's beautiful. My name's Y/N."

"Talk about beautiful names."

I looked away, again blushing. It made me smile so much because I always used to get picked on for my name despite loving it myself. It made me uncertain of the importance of self-love.

"Thank you, it means more than you may think."

We smiled and continued to walk in a serene silence.

"So, Elijah. When your not carelessly bumping into girls and dishing out compliments, what do you like to do ?"

He chuckled softly.

"I like to read a lot and I can cook when necessary."

This man becomes more intriguing by the second. I bet he's a great cook and the reading explains his extensive range of vocab.

"That's so cool, I cook and bake all the time. I love it so much and I don't read as much as I'd want but I like to sing."

"Oh yeah, do you sing for people ?"

"Uh sometimes, mainly special occasions like birthdays and stuff. I'm actually singing at my brother's wedding in a couple of months."

"Really, what a shame I don't get to see for myself your talent."

"I wouldn't really call it a big thing but I mean if it means that much. You seem nice so far, I was just gonna go stag but if you want to join me you can. It might be more fun if your there, I don't particularly love the women he's marrying so."

"That would be lovely. What's wrong with the woman?"

"Well, she's always stuck up around him you know. She licks his ass so much but whenever he's not around for a second she is the bitchiest most irritating girl in the world and not forgetting she's incredibly immature."

"Really, must be a irritating women then ?"

"Like you wouldn't believe."

I looked up and realised that it's already quite dark out, which means I've spent a good couple of hours talking to Elijah. I told him where my apartment was and he left but not before exchanging numbers. That very night, I had no sleep because Elijah and I were texting all night.

In the morning, after still not getting any sleep. I had a text from Elijah just as I had finished brushing my teeth.

Elijah: Good morning Y/N! I hope your energised. How would you like to get lunch today ?- E.M

Reply: As energised as I can be, Elijah. I would love to get lunch today. I also need to get my dress for the wedding, help me pick ? Good morning by the way.

Elijah: Of course you do, trust you to not be prepared. I would be honoured to help you, I don't want to go to a complete stranger's wedding with my date looking like a tart.

Reply: Thank you Elijah. Self-confidence risen dramatically... what time do you want to meet ?

Elijah: I'll pick you up at 12:30.

Reply: Okay, see you then.

As soon as I sent my reply, I ran and jumped into the shower. I lathered my vanilla body wash all over my body and soaked my hair in cherry almond shampoo and conditioner. I hopped out and decided to leave my face free from makeup and put on a mask whilst getting ready. I quickly applied my charcoal face mask and started rooting through my wardrobe for some clothes. I looked at the clock and realised I only have 50 minutes to get ready. I decided to wear a sheet black crop top with coloured flowers on and flared sleeves along with a short denim skirt, brown ankle boots, some black tights and and brown bag to match my shoes.

I was just spraying some of my vanilla perfume when there was a knock at the door. My eyes shot to the clock and I watched as the clock turned 12:30. I opened the door to see him stood there with a warm smile on his face. I smiled back at him with just as much warmth.

"Hey Elijah. You weren't kidding when you said 12:30 were you ?"

He chuckled and straightened his posture more even if it was impossible to be standing any straighter than he already was. I get it now, he's a perfectionist.

"When I say a time, I mean it."

I giggled and shut the door, locking it behind me. I replied to his comment with a smirk on my face and walked off.

"I can see that, Mr Perfectionist."

He chuckled and followed me out. We we're taking a comfortably quiet stroll down bourbon street, not rushing to get to the mall.

"So Elijah, what is it ?"

He turned to me with slight confusion.

"What ever do you mean, Y/N?"

I could tell he was genuinely confused so I made the choice to elaborate. I turned my head to look at him with my arms crossed but still walking.

"You. The way you talk, your timing ? I mean your not just on time you were there in the second of it turning 12:30. How about that both times I've seen you, you've been wearing $10 000 suits. I mean we are going to lunch. Probably to get some pizza or sushi, not for a meal that costs like $300 take like one zero off that at least."

He looked shocked at me understandably so. I just called him out on practically everything that makes him Elijah. It's not that I have a problem with any of it. A man who has impeccable timing, amazing-expensive-but amazing dress sense and knows how to talk properly not "Sup baby, you busy tonight ?" The number of times that lines been used in me is incredible.

He looked at me with a prominent look of worry. Maybe I said the wrong thing, was I too blunt maybe ? Or he might think I don't like any of it. So I quickly decided to save myself.

"Before you think or even ask yourself if I don't like any of that, I do. I'm just not used to speaking to a man. Someone with great fashion sense, doesn't talk like in idiot and can actually pronounce and word things properly-in other words speaking actual english, someone who has manners, the looks, impeccable timing and knows how to charm a women. Your a women's dream I just didn't know you were so....dreamy."

A wide grin broke out on his face, with made me blush profusely. I saw the mall in front of us.

"Dreamy ? You have a way with words Miss Y/L/N. I apologise if I may have distracted you for being so dreamy."

I giggled and smacked his arm playfully.

"Hey it's not funny. Take the compliment or leave it, alright ? It just slipped out."

"Slipped out of your mouth or your dreams."

We started laughing together feeling more comfortable than when I had my curious outburst minutes ago.

We walked in the mall and I was lost for which shop to buy my dress in. I nudged Elijah's arm.

"You know any good shops to buy dresses ?"

I asked jokingly but to my surprise he dragged me into a shop I didn't see the name of. He stopped at the entrance and turned to me.

"We are going to do something because you have massively boosted my ego today unintentionally, I think. Your going to let me do something for you. To make sure you don't look like a tart is why I came with you, correct ?"

I nodded.

"Your are going to pick five dresses you like in this store and I am going to pick my favourite one and you have to wear it to the wedding, deal ?"

Not how I expected the day to go, being bossed around by a man who was a stranger not more than 2 days ago.

"How do you not have women lining up to be with you? As long as your this bossy in the bedroom, I will say deal to you as many times as you like."

I winked at him and walked further into the shop. Elijah stood there with a wide grin at the once innocent flirty comments turning rapidly less innocent and followed her.

Five. Five dresses is not hard to pick. Come on Y/n. Just one more. I stopped and looked around until I spotted the last one. I handed them to Elijah with a whispered comment as I walked out.

"One of those dresses are harder to get off then the rest I might need some assistance, make the right decision Mr Precision."

I waited outside for him to pick the dress. Minutes later he walked out of the shop with a wide grin on his face and a white paper bag that most likely has my dress in it.

"So ?"

He looked at me and winked.

"I made the right decision, don't you worry."

                                                        ***

We walked over to Rousseau's and I persuaded him to sit down and eat. When the food arrived he looked at me weirdly.

"I can't eat this, Y/N."

I giggled at him a rolled my eyes.

"What worried about getting grease on your $10 000 suit. Don't even tell me you don't like it, what's not to love about a big greasy burger and fries with a beer. Or do you only drink wine and eat lobster with caviar ?"

He chuckled at me and took his jacket off and placed it on the back of his chair. He unbuttoned his sleeves and rolled them up so they were now three quarters in length. The next thing I know is he's picking it up and taking a big bite of the burger whilst staring at me in the eyes to prove a point.

                                                          ***

A little while later after it's like 6 pm we decide to leave the bar and go back to my apartment. I unlock the door and hang my jacket up whilst throwing my keys on the worktop in the kitchen. I kick my shoes off by the door and walk into the kitchen to look for some wine. Elijah follows me in a little later, having just taken his jacket off and hung it up.

"You look confused."

I'm rooting around in my pantry looking down my wine rack not finding the alcohol I wanted. Then the idea that it might be in the fridge popped into my head. I walked out of my pantry closing the door and opening my fridge finding the label staring at me in the face. I smiled and grabbed it before turning around and showing it to Elijah.

"I was trying to find this. A bottle of wine I was saving for when I had good company."

He grabbed the bottle out of my hands and inspected it, lastly he smirked.

"No wonder you saved it Y/N, this is an expensive wine. One they don't even sell in the United States. What did you do? Go on holiday and smuggle a bottle of rare and incredibly expensive wine back here ?"

"I guess you could say that but I didn't buy it...I won it. In a game of poker on my 26th birthday, I lived in Italy with my family and it was a bottle that was made the year I was born and my mother saved up for it and bought it. My dad annoyed her buy using it as a prize for our game of poker, he said it was pure luck just because it was made on my birthday. $6 863. That's the total cost."

"So your Italian ?"

I giggled and grabbed two glasses.

"Si signore."

He chuckled and followed me into the living room. I threw myself on the couch and sat upright so I could pour the wine.

"So you've juiced everything interesting out of me. What about you ?"

"The only interesting thing about me is my family I suppose. I have two older siblings and four younger siblings."

"Tell me about them."

"Okay. There's my eldest sister Freya she's 34; 5 years older than me. She's quite sweet but she was more of a long distance sibling for a while.Finn who's 33, we're not especially close. Niklaus or Klaus as he prefers, he's 25 and a menace all of the time consistently getting on my nerves. He's 4 years younger than me. Then Kol who is worse than Klaus, he's the most menacing of us all and an irritatingly common flirt even at 24.My youngest sister Rebekah, 17 and she's always had a flair for the dramatics, always looking for love. Then Henrik, who was 11 when he died. None of us really knew a lot about him except Klaus, he was the closest to him."

I widened my eyes and polished off my third glass of wine already. I put my hand on his, I leant forward a touch to pour more wine.

"I apologise for your loss. But, also for your seemingly irritant siblings."

"It's quite alright."

I grabbed his glass and placed the glasses down on the table and I felt my arm being dragged back and when looking forward, I noticed the close proximity of Elijah and I. Mere centimetres away we sat staring into each other's eyes with curiosity. I couldn't help but feel intimidated by the lingering stare he had on me and also slightly exhilarated. Swiftly our noses touched ever so slightly. It made it impossible to pull away like I probably should have. He leant forward some more making the pressure on our noses more noticeable and so suddenly his small soft lips reached for mine in a gentle peck. Our eyes fluttered closed, overwhelmed from the feeling a small kiss could make us feel. It was a foreign feeling, feeling this way from a kiss.

He gradually moved away a little and looked at me in the eyes. I didn't know what to say. His hands slowly raised and stroked the sides of my face before leaning in and giving me a quick peck. Just after he allowed me to cuddle into his side to watch a movie, I'd put on in the background when we sat down.

                                                       ***

A couple of months later, we are still going strong. Elijah and I actually have the wedding to go to today, we flew out with his brothers unfortunately so we couldn't have much personal time. I am excited about seeing my dress though, I haven't seen it since when I picked the 5 dresses out at that store, I can't even remember what they all looked like.

I opened the bag and I pulled out a beautiful baby blue halter neck dress that will hug my body tightly, no wonder he liked it and of course it was the one with the zip. I actually will need help later now.

I decided to start getting ready and then spotting the lingerie he threw in there as well.

These last few months have been a dream. I have not been this happy for years. Elijah's perfect, yes we have a few differences that haven't been great to deal with but we've made it through and he makes me feel i'm living in my dream.

                                                        ***

I walked out of the bathroom that I was getting ready in to see Elijah drinking a glass of wine on the bed.

"Babe it's 11 am, why are you drinking wine ?"

He jumped up and spat it out on the floor, unfortunately it was red wine. My eyes widened as I saw it immediately stain the floor.

"Lijah ! This is a hotel room, we aren't at home."

He shook his bed and fell on the floor on his knees, eyes still widened.

"Elijah. What's wrong with you, baby ?"

He shook his head and helped me scrub the floor. We are most definitely going to be late for this wedding. As I was squirting soap on the floor I hear a knock. I get up, leaving Elijah on the floor. I open the door to greet the brothers. They walked in and followed me to the bedroom where Elijah was still on the floor.

"Elijah mate, why are you on the floor ?"

He just continued to stare off. They looked at me and I shrugged.

"I don't know what happened. I walked out the bathroom, he spark his wine on the floor. Now we have to explain why we've stained their carpet."

                                                          ***

We are greeting other guests and trying to find my brother. When I spot him he walks over. He hugs me and spins me around.

"God I missed you Y/N !"

"I missed you too Y/B/N, like you wouldn't believe. I would like to introduce you to some people I bought. This is Elijah, my boyfriend and has been for a couple of months now and-"

I introduced Elijah who was back to normal after I gave him a kiss apparently it was because I looked so beautiful. I cut myself off when going to introduce the brothers because when I looked over at them. They were the only two causing trouble, Kol was consistently flirting with married women and Klaus threatening people.

"and that's it. They are NOT with us."

Elijah and I looked at each other and he nodded. I rolled my eyes and walked over to the brothers, grabbing them by the wrists and dragging them over.

"Y/B/N these are Elijah's brothers. Kol and Klaus."

"Nice to meet you all, it's a shame I can't talk more to Elijah. I guess it's hard to talk to him when your sister doesn't tell you about him."

I looked down to the floor and back up innocently.

"I love you."

"I love you too. Right, we need to start getting ready."

"Okay go."

                                                        ***

Flashback

I was sitting nervously on a couch at Elijah's House when he walks in with two good looking gentlemen.

"Y/N my darling, I would like for you to meet my brothers Kol and Niklaus."

"Call me Klaus. All my friends do."

He grabs my hand and kisses it. I blushed hard before most fortunately it disappeared, very quickly.

Kol walks closer and kisses me on the cheek and as he pulls away winks. Unfortunately, the blushed arose. Once again.

"Nice to meet you darling."

They are all insanely charming and flirtatious, it's nerve racking. No wonder, why they have so many female admirers.

                                                         ***

I remember how different the greetings were for me and my brother. They were more chilled with my brother although still mischievous, yet with me it was flirtatious and misbehaving.

I can live with it now though. The flirtatiousness, I get enough from Elijah so I'm used to it. Kol and Klaus now are more comedic in my eyes with their fake sentiments of love for me, annoying Elijah and even bursting into our room after I've taken a shower to see if they scare me enough to drop my towel. Although, that's more Kol.

All I can say is, I'm way more comfortable with them now and I couldn't be happier to know that Elijah and I are going to last, a gut feeling tells me so.

OUTFIT

MASTERLIST

[hhoriginalworks]

read it and weep | g.w

warnings: language, unedited

Hogwarts viewed the Weasley twins similarly, but also so drastically different. They were identical to the grouping of freckles on their bums-something everyone had seen after they mooned Snape- and yet, George wasn't the showstopper twin. Sure everyone loved him as much as Fred, but everyone knew that Fred had some undeniable charm that made him stand out just a millimeter more. George drew the crowds in, but Fred was the one who blew them away. George was the one to spike butterbeer with firewhiskey, but Fred was the person who would convince the most sensible Ravenclaws and meek Hufflepuffs to chug it.

It was a small difference, but for twins who had been viewed the same for so long, it seemed to be enough of a difference. It didn't change whose business it was because it was both equally theirs, but it changed who said the most catching phrases and who drew up the marketing strategies. It was a well-oiled machine of laughter and fun-filled jokes until it wasn't. Until George was thrown into fame for being a Weasley and the only remaining founder of a joke shop that reminded him of everything that fame cost.

Now, the world viewed the Weasley twins in very drastic ways. They viewed one alive and the other lost honorably to the war.

George hated it all- the pity, the title of being the alive twin, feeling like he was letting down Fred by keeping the shop boarded up, and even worse, all of the flowers. He was knee-deep in roses, pansies, peonies, and ever so dreaded, calla lilies. He frankly wanted to burn them all.

"Aren't these, lovely, George," Angelina hummed, trying to lift the spirits of the apartment above the shop. Angelina started to make her visits a daily thing, and she hated that she agreed that George seemed to haunt the apartment more than Fred.

"Not really," George sighed, tossing the pastel peonies into the trash. "If I get another floral arrangement, I'm going to burn the entire flat down."

"Okay then," Angelina replied, taking a deep breath in an attempt to gain more patience with the redhead. She loved George, but he had been in this state of pessimism for months now, and all she wanted was to yell at him. "Well, if you hate them so much, why don't you visit the flower shop across the street and ask them to stop sending them."

_______

You were up to your ears in orders for tombstones, for surviving family members, for family members that are reconciling after realizing how short life is, but mostly, for George Weasley. It was good for business you guessed, but you missed orders for wives that didn't know about their husbands' romantic surprise, for children that got brilliant marks, for birthdays, really, for anything but George Weasley.

The words of condolences weighed you down, the tear-stained paper messages tore at your heart, and the thought of all the people who were lost to the war killed you with each positioned flower. Flowers were always something you loved, but now they were tainted with tears and memories of children's screams.

"Hello?" The echos from the front room were enough to nudge you out of your dreary thoughts.

"We're- we're closed," you called back, touching your hand to your wet cheek.

"Well, I need to talk to the owner," the voice bit back with less hesitance and more bitterness. You wanted to scream that closed meant you didn't have any obligation to help him, but you didn't. You closed your eyes and pushed yourself away from the flower arrangement table and towards the front room.

"What do you need?" You asked, your eyes still partially closed. It would be a lie if you didn't admit to doing it to show the customer you were tired and done with the day.

"I need the flowers to stop."

You opened your eyes, somewhat shocked and offended by his word. "Excuse me- you want me to do what?"

"To stop- I don't need them. They are crowding my apartment, and to be quite frank if they don't stop, I'll have to start burning them." The redhead was lanky and tired-looking. He was as pale as a ghost and looked just as haunted.

"I-I- don't understand, sir," you attempted, your customer-friendly facade starting to fade as the redhead rolled his eyes. "What is your name?"

"George Weasley, and what's yours? Are you the manager? Can you do something to help me or not?" His words were drowned out of the sound of your own thoughts streaming through your mind.

"Oh." With all the orders for the infamous George Weasley, you had promised yourself to say something reassuring to him if you ever saw him in person. Yet, all you could manage was 'oh.'

"Can you just stop them? I don't need flowers- I don't need bunches of stupid plants that just die after a few days. Just stop them, okay?" George looked as though his facade was starting to slip too. Something about the way he begged you made your eyes well with tears and your heart to stop.

"I'm y/n, and I want to help you resolve this issue, but I can't stop sending them," you replied, shaking as you conjured up a list of all the orders you still had to finish for him. "They already paid for your flowers-"

"They aren't my flowers because I refuse them. I don't want flowers. I don't understand what you don't get about what I'm saying. I want my brother- I want Fred. Flowers do nothing to fix this fucking hole in my heart. They are worthless- they- they-"

"They are all anyone can do," you interrupted, taking a step closer to George. "You think that people don't want you to have your brother back? Flowers are the language of love, of guilt, of hope, of grief. People just want to show you that they are hurting too."

"By drowning me in fucking roses, lilies, and ugly arrangements that just shrivel up in a matter of days? You just want to make a quick buck," George argued back, running his hands through his hair.

"I resent that statement, sir. I pour my own love and grief into those arrangements. I handwrite those notes from people who are just trying to reach out to you. I-I cast my own enchantments on those flowers to ensure that they only die if the person who receives them hasn't read the card within a matter of days," you shouted back. "You haven't even read what people are trying to tell you?"

"No, because I don't need their pity," George yelled back, his voice starting to crack.

"George, I miss seeing you at family breakfast on Sunday. Mum is a mess without both you and Fred. You said you liked the daisies I picked and placed on the table. Sending these to remind you that you still have a family waiting for you on Sunday. Ginny." Your voice shook as you read out one of the messages that touched you the most. "George, I'm sorry I told that joke. I'm sorry that it wasn't me. I have so many sorrys to say, but I can't get myself to write them all. The only thing I've ever done right by you is when I took the blame for ruining mum's white hyacinths. Please write to me- Percy."

"Stop it," George plead, his anger melted away and his voice raw with sadness. His words tore you to piece, but you continued because so did the words that so many people wrote to him.

"Weasley, you were always a troublemaker. Never quit even when I told you it was gonna land you in detention, cleaning after the Hippogriffs. I know you're a strong one, so don't quit on us. Sending you some ivy from my hut and some of those fancy roses. Hagrid," you continued, your voice stronger as your cheeks became caked with tears. "People don't know how to reach out to you, so they send flowers because flowers mean something. You mean something to them, and nearly all of those arrangements are shared memories. You can't burn them like you're burning the bridges of your friendships and families."

"I-I-"

Silence filled the small shop, and distance formed between you and the redhead. Perhaps it was the notes you had recited or the fact you finally let yourself feel the grief you were surrounded in, but you felt everything had changed.

"I hate being surrounded by flowers that are just attempts to save others from grief too, but they mean something those who sent them. I- I'm sorry, but I can't stop sending them," you whispered, wiping your cheeks dry.

George seemed just as changed, his anger and bitterness stripped from him, only to leave behind the fact that he felt alone and guilty. "Can you do something for me? Please, um, y/n."

"Sure," you breathed, straightening out the front of your shirt.

"Can you help me order some flowers for my family and friends?"

You smiled- an honest smile that wasn't weighed down by sadness. "I'll help you make some flower arrangements for your friends and family, George."

[loureadsandreviews]

This is for the lovely Hayley for her 30th Birthday. I hope you enjoy!

Summary: FinanXFemReader You are new to Coccham, and you seemed to have caught Finan’s eye. 

Warnings: Fluff, Sex, Smut, parental death

Word count:  4230

“Ya new here now, ain’t you.”

You look up from where you knelt on the bank, your knees resting on the cold wet earth as you’re bent over washing a dress in the river.  You had been lucky to be taken in by Lord Uhtred’s household after your hamlet was burned by Danes.  Only you and your Sister survived, but she had decided she wanted to fight the Danes, and had asked to join the Dane Slayer himself.  She was an inspiration, but you had seen enough killing now to last a lifetime.

“Yes, Lord, I am.”  You offer him a small smile, admiring the width of his shoulders and the way his armour always fit him so very well.  Your Sister knew you liked his dark eyes and irish accent, and she liked to tease you about it.  She kept telling you to make yourself known to him, but how were you to do that?  He was Lord Uhtred’s second in command, his right hand man and seemed to be his closest friend.  He was not the kind of man you just wandered up to and tried to flirt with.  Or maybe he was, but that did not mean that she was the type to wander up and just flirt openly with someone.  There were names for girls like that after all.

“You’re Naira’s Sister, right? She has a wicked temper.”  He chuckled and rubbed a large hand over his beard.  You had not moved, your hands still rubbing the material of the dress together.  You still had a pile of washing to go, but you were trying not to just sit and stare up at him.  Was he not already snapped up by someone?  He was so handsome.

“Yes Lord, she can be a little on the fiery side. It’s our Da’s temper, or um was our Da’s temper.”  You look down at your hands, already pruned in the water, and at the blue dress there.  Your Da had been all you and your Sister had, after your Ma had passed away trying to give birth to your Brother, though he had then passed on two days later after.  Your Da had raised you right though, and he tried to protect you and Naira when the Danes had come, but they had killed him as he stood with his log axe in hand in the doorway.  You and Naira had managed to hide up in the rafters, he had given you the time to do that safely.  And he had died for it.

“Ah, yeah, I am sorry to hear about that.”  His accent had seemed to get a little thicker as he looked serious, and you could not help but actually pull your hands up out of the water and rub your cheeks, at least then if he noticed your face was wet, he would think river water and not tears.  After all no man wanted a girl who would cry all the time.

“Thank you Lord.”  Your voice was soft, hardly above a whisper as you managed to look away from him.

“Hey now Y/N, don’t be calling me Lord. I work for my silver.”  She looked up and couldn't help but giggle to the smile (and the quip) he had aimed at you.  He did not wear arm rings like the Danes who worked for Lord Uhtred, but you did notice his gold rings, as he tucked his fingers into the leather chest piece of his armour, at his neck.  

“Sorry, um… what should I call you then?”  You are looking up into his dark eyes, one damp hand brushing back your hair, the wispy bits that always escaped from the simple tie back. As you were unmarried you were not expected to braid it down your back like most of the women here.  She had noticed that even most of the Saxon women were doing it now, though you had no idea if you would.  Not that you had to worry about it anytime soon.

“Finan, just Finan.”  

“Then I shall, Just Finan.”  You can not help giving him a cheeky smile, the kind of smile that her Sister claimed either meant she had done something wrong, or was thinking about it.

You were rewarded with a bright smile and another one of those deep rumbling chuckles.  The sound of it sent a pearl of pleasure down your back and into your core.  It makes you shiver, and the way he laughed a little more makes you wonder if he noticed it.  He was leaning a little to the side, before he ran his free hand over his beard once again.

“I’ll let you get back to your fun task.”  He tells you, with another smile and a wink this time.  This has to be the Finan charm you had heard about.  Of course there were rumours that he had been with half the women in Coccham, but then he was a man, and that was what they did.  And if he had, none of the women here spoke ill of him, so that had to mean something right?

“I’ll let you get back and hold Lord Uhtred’s hand.”  You tell him, your voice a little high, a flirty tone, before you look back down at the dress that luckily was still there in the water.  You would have caught hell if Stiorra’s dress had drifted off down stream.

You did not look up again until the sound of his footsteps had drifted off, along with the chuckle.  When you did look in his direction again he was heading through the gate, both thumbs tucked into his leather armour at the sleeve holes.  He looked back at you, caught you looking at him, and then paused to give you grin (or what you thought of as a grin, it is hard to tell from his distance) before he vanished inside the palisade gates, leaving you to wonder if you would catch him later some time, or if this had been your one and only chance and you had blown it.

========================

A week later, and you had bumped into Finan more often than you had thought you would.  He would just seem to appear whenever you were doing some of the more mundane tasks around the estate, you would share in some witty banter, and then one of you would head off and usually with a backward glance.  Naira had been teasing you about him, saying that he kept mentioning your name at the most strange times and asking her what sort of things you liked.  And apparently even Sihtric and Osferth had even started to tease Finan, bringing up your name in the middle of practise to trip him up or beat him in sword moves.  And that seemed to drive him crazy, and made you smile as it meant that he may well really like you.

But you had no idea how to take that next step and show him you liked him too. After all, you did not want to be hurt. You had lost the strongest and only male figure in your life not long before, and while you were not looking for Finan to fill that particular role for you, you did not want to be just another hump in the hay, cause if you were then he could continue to look around for someone else. Your Da always said that you and your Sister were worth more than that. 

There was to be a celebration that night, as one of the girls in the village was marrying one of Lord Uhtred’s men. He was throwing the feast, to show how happy he was for the couple, and everyone was invited. You had been working on your dress all week in your spare time, which there wasn't much of as it was harvest time, and that meant all hands on deck, as it were. Your dress was a deep blue, you had dyed it yourself, again and again until you had gotten the colour just right. You had also dyed Niara a tunic to match, as you knew she would not wear a dress now. You then had embroidered small yellow and white daisies around the neckline and cuffs, and in amongst the flowers you had placed some celtic love knots. They were not obvious, the thread was a dark grey colour, but if someone were to look closely, then he would see. You wore a light blue under dress, and then your newly embroidered dress over the top. Niars claimed you looked beautiful with your hair all brushed out until it gleamed, and coming from your beautiful sister, that meant the world. 

You attended the feast with your Sister, though it soon became clear that she wanted to go and be with her warrior friends. You tell her to go, that you have your own friends to go sit with but it's a lie. You haven't made any friends here yet, but you knew that if Niara knew that then she would not leave your side. And you want her to have a night of fun. 

One of you had to, right.

You did notice that Finan kept looking your way during the feast, but he is seated on the main table with Lord Uhtred, and the happy couple. And the two newly weds do look so happy that you feel overcome with emotions and a sudden sting of loneliness. You excuse yourself from the table, not that anyone around you is paying attention to you, and you take your cup of wine out of the main hall and into the cool evening air. 

As the sun is setting, it has painted the sky in purples, pinks, oranges and reds, colours that had no business being together all blended in like that. It was striking, and you find yourself absorbed by the sight, it being one of the most beautiful sunsets you had ever seen. 

"Breathtaking," a voice behind you makes you jump, a hand going to your chest as if that would calm your racing heart as you turn to see Finan with a semi serious look on his face.  "Sorry, did I make ya jump?”

“No, well yes actually Just Finan, you scared me. But it is fine, your apology is accepted." You look back over your shoulder at the sunset and smile wistfully. "Yes, it is breathtaking."

"Yeah, the sunsets alright though when you've seen one then you've seen them all." He gave you a smile that seemed to be mischievous in nature but also shy at the same time. "I was talking about the view I had." He was still smiling, but there was something in his dark eyes that seemed to be serious too. 

He walked towards you, and joined you where you leaned against the handrail that led into the main hall.  You were blushing after his compliment, and you did not miss the fact that he was standing close enough to you that you could feel the heat from his body against your arm.  His large arms were folded over his chest, and for once he was not in his armour, but just a green tunic with a striped pattern on it.  It suited him, browns and greens did seem to suit him, and she could hardly imagine him in blue.  That would just look weird.

“What are you doing out here anyway, you are missing the festivities.”  You ask him, trying to make small talk, but you know you are terrible at such things.

“Oh, I know, but I saw this vision of loveliness slip out the hall, and I thought I would come out and see if they were well. Have you seen her, the vision of loveliness I followed out? I'm sure she is around here somewhere."  

His tease made you laugh out as you knocked your elbow into his ribs, which then made him let out a small yelp, a sound that was so unlike him that you stopped and just stared at him in that moment. He was chuckling to himself, shaking his head at you. 

"What on earth was that? Did someone sit on a mouse? Or maybe spill ale down Osferths back again? Surely the great Finan, Dane-Slayer, did not just yelp like a small child?" You tried to sound serious as you spoke, but your words were interspersed by the giggles that were bubbling up from your chest. You also realised at some point that he had taken a step towards you, and you had taken a step back. And again and again. 

"Come now, Y/N, I think you know it wasn't nae like that." He was still grinning, taking his slow large steps towards you, as he ran a hand back through his hair. Your eyes watched his hand, and you found you wanted to know if his hair was as soft as it looked. 

"Oh, I think you'll find it was." You tell him, still grinning and only them feeling the wooden wall behind your back. And yet he still kept coming. "Maybe I should send word to the Danes, that the way to bring you down is by tickling your ribs, or maybe the King can use you as a distraction, make you squeal and while the Danes are laughing he can slaughter them all." 

"Oh lass, I'm going to make you squeal." He was still an arms length away, though when he moved to you, you never saw him coming. You had never seen someone move as fast as him, Finan the Agile indeed. His hands went to your own ribs, teasing out where you were ticklish. Which was everywhere. You try to stop him, but alas he was too quick, and far too strong to be put off. You laugh, and beg, and threaten, and then went back to begging, as tears of laughter rolled down your cheeks. 

And by the time you were breathless, leaning up against the wall, with Finan standing almost against you, his hands on your waist, his head angled down towards yours, it was then that you knew you were going to kiss him. You could see it coming, as clear as day follows night, and while you were trembling to feel his lips on yours, you wanted to prolong the moment, the build up, something to remember him by when he moved on to someone else. 

"I wonder where else you are tickl--" 

That was as far as he got before you grabbed the font of his tunic and pulled his mouth down to yours.  If he was taken by surprise he didn't show it with how his hands moved from your hips around your back though neither moved lower than your lower back you realised, as his lips moved against your own. His beard tickled your cheek and upper lip, making you smile into the kiss. You had no idea how long it lasted but when he drew back from your mouth you were almost panting for breath. A reaction that he both shared and seemed to like. 

"Ya just full o'surprises, ain't ya."

"Why don't you see if you're good enough to find out?" You just can't help the banter with him, and before you can wonder what else he is going to say, his mouth was on yours again, though this time you opened your lips to him, and he deepened the kiss enough to make your toes curl. His tongue began to dominate your mouth, tasting, exploring, licking, you find it hard to keep up, though he was very alert for when you moaned in pleasure at a certain touch, especially when his hands finally slid down your hips to cup your buttocks in his strong hands. 

When his mouth finally tore itself from your own and began kissing down your cheek to your jaw, you moaned against him, a hand moving up into his hair. It was as soft as you thought it would be, and you run your nails over his scalp and smile as he moans, though then you feel his teeth at your throat, and in the midst of the stinging pleasure you know he has left a mark there for all to see. 

"So tempted to take you back to me rooms, just to see if you taste this good all over." His voice had dropped lower, and you can't help but shiver in pleasure. 

"Take me there."

Finan paused and looked up at you from where he had been trailing kisses and bites down your neck. "Y/N, ya Ben drinkin, and I don't need ya Sister coming for me balls cause I took advantage of her drunk sister."

"Firstly, she is not my keeper, I do what I want. Secondly, I had one ale, too bored to drink more. And lastly, I'm not a maid, so you wont be doing nothing to me that wasn't done before."  

There had been a boy in your town, Alresford, and the two of you had decided in the spring that if the Danes attacked you would rather not die virgins. It had been quick, awkward and fumbly, but you know from other women it got better with practise. Your sister didn't know, she would have killed Alresford if she did, though the Danes had already done that deed when they had taken your village. 

You could see the surprise and no little amount of delight on Finans face at the news. "As long as ya protect my balls from your Sister, Y/N, then it seems I am in for a night of exploring and tasting…" His words died off as his lips found yours again, and with his hands still on your bottom, he picked you up as if you weighed nothing at all. It made you cry out in surprise, which just made Finan laugh as he kissed your breasts through your dress, before moving to carrying you in his arms as he moved quickly around the hall and towards his house. 

You remember little of the journey there, other than you made use of the time to kiss and nip at his throat and side of his neck.  The little hitches of breath and the following moans told you he seemed to like what you were doing, and it also added to the pleasure that was making its way straight down to your core.  You were feeling a need to have him buried deeply inside of you, and you hoped it would happen sooner rather than later.  

Arriving at his house, you felt him kick the door open, then closed, and a hand moved from your side to flick a latch, before it was back on you, and he moved through to his bedchamber.  The waiting bed was large, covered in fine cotton sheets, and rolled up furs you would assume would be for winter.  He placed you on your feet, and then began to kiss you once more.  You were kissing him back, your hands going the hem of his tunic as his hands went for your dress ties.  And your hands just seemed to get in the way of one another.  You both laughed, before he drew back and pulled his shirt off, while toeing his boots off before sitting on the edge of his bed.

“Undress for me.”  It was a request and an order, and you smiled as you turned your back to him, and began to unlace your dress, so it fell to the ground, and your underdress soon after joining it.  You took off your shoes, then looked over your shoulder, naked, and looked at him.  The look of pure arousal you were greeted with was almost your undoing, turning to him you wondered if he could smell your own arousal building.  “Sweet Mary, Jesus and Joseph, but you are a sight.”  His hands moved to your hips, and pulled you to stand between his legs as his mouth went to one of your breasts, kissing, caressing with his mouth, and nibbling the sensitive underside.  His hands kneaded your buttocks, before he spun you around to leave a teasing bite on one of them.

“Sit down and hook your legs over mine.”  Again, not quite a request and not quite an order.  But you do, and he moved his legs wider, opening you up.  “Now I want to hear you moan.”  He told you, as one arm hooked around you, his hand moving down to start teasing your damp folds with his fingers as they searched out your most sensitive of places.  His other hand seemed content to tease your hard nipples, cupping your breasts as his mouth started at your ear and began to kiss and nipple its way down to where your neck and shoulder joined.  His fingers began to play you like a harp, each twitch and movement bringing you closer to your pleasure, that heated pressure that was building inside of you.  His thumb began to rub the sensitive nub hidden in your folds, as his first two fingers teased at your entrance, sliding in to you, but only slightly.  

That was enough to send you over the first time, and you cried out to god, to the gods, to Finan, and really anyone else who was listening about how good that felt.  He chuckled in your ear, though did not stop until he had his fingers all the way inside of you, and then wiggled them just slightly until they found the place they seemed to have been searching for, and that touch alone sent another shocking wave of pleasure through your body, as you trembled in his lap, head laid back on his shoulder, sweat slicking your body as you tried to fight for breath.

“Now that was a chorus for God.”  He whispered in your ear as he withdrew his fingers, leaving you feeling horribly empty.  You watched as he raised those fingers passed your head and heard him suck them clean with a hum and a groan that made your inner muscles clench all over again.  “Sweet Jesus you taste like heaven. Or maybe the nectre of the gods.”  He teased, before his hands were scooping you up and laying you on the bed.  She smiled up to him, and watched as he pressed off his breeches, exposing his length, more impressive than you would have dreamed, and giggled as he began to crawl up your body, his hands tickling your sides as he did.

“Are you sure, Y/N? This is what ya wont?”

“Yes, this is what I have wanted since I first came here.”  You told him in a whisper, and could not help but smile as he was fully above you now, and your legs were open for him.

“Then why, by all the holy saints, did you not say so before now?”  There was humour in his voice, and as he leaned down to press his mouth to yours once again, you felt his tip at your entrance.  And with his tongue sliding into your mouth, his length pressed into your depths.

Your hands gripped his biceps hard, your nails biting skin, as Finan began to move inside of you, still kissing one another as he did.  Your moans mixed with his, the small noises that escaped your mouths as the kisses became something harder, all teeth and tongue, as his hips began to pick up a steady rhythm, one you both could work to.  It had been nothing like this with Alresford, but then neither of you had known what to do then.  All you knew was that with each hard thrust into you, you felt more full, more pleasure and it was becoming too much.

“Oh Y/N, you feel wondrous,” he whispered against you as you felt your climax building once again, almost painfully fast as his hips moved in a different way, faster, making you whimper out.  “Come undone for me again, Y/N, please.”  He whispered, and you could almost hear the strain in his voice now.  It only took a couple more thrusts and you arched under him, your breath lost as you cried out once more as that red hot heat filled out, seemingly exploding from your core outwards through your body.

You were almost too far out of it to feel Finan pull out of you, but you caught him spending his seed into his hand as he lay on his side next to you.  You met his eye once he was done, and once you could both breath normally again.  “I did no ask ya if I could spend myself into ya.”  He explained, and you knew it was a lordly thing to do, not to assume, and you watched as he wiped his hand with a rag from the side of the bed.

“You are a good man.”

Then he was pulling you into his arm, so your head was on his chest, his hand ran through your hair.  You could hear his heartbeat, and you closed your eyes to listen to it’s strong beating under your head.

��I can see ya becoming an addiction.”  He told you, before kissing the top of your head, his eyes closed and a contented look resting on his face. When he spoke next, he sounded half tired, and you were not even sure if he knew what he was saying.

“You said I am a good man,“ he said. "But I am not that good a man. And I am–I think I am falling catastrophically in love with you.”

I hope you enjoyed, and happy birthday!

@waiting4inspiration​ @tephi101​ @fandomfic-galore​ @whenimaunicorn​ @laketaj24​ @simsadventures​ @maggiescarborough​ @saldelys​ @youbloodymadgenius​ @inforapound​ @oddsnendsfanfics​ @ucancallmechlo​ @lauwrite1225​ @pokeasleepingsmaug​ @cocchamscrew​ @hecohansen31​

@flowers-in-your-hayr​ @gearhead66​ @naaladareia @geekandbooknerd 

[nikki-romero]

The Wild Flower (Tomoki Matsuba x OC) Prologue

It was finally the long-awaited moving day. I was moving into an apartment by myself. My dad helped me get the perfect apartment. The negotiations had gone smoothly and it was time to move in. I decided to walk to the new apartment to learn the new neighbourhood better.

My cousin and I had stopped and checked the map we had.

"Hmm, it looks like it's this way." My cousin, Ayame, pointed ahead of us. The pedestrian light turned green. "Come on!" She rushed across the street. With how excited she was getting, you'd think she was the one starting a new chapter of her life, so to speak.

"Wha-! Ayame!" I called after her. I quickly shoved the map into my bag before running after her. She turned around to wait for me, and her eyes widened.

"Hotaru! Watch out!!"

I looked to the side and saw a white limo heading towards me. I gasped but managed to leap out of the way before it could hit me, right into a puddle of ice-cold water.

"Hotaru! Are you alright?!" Ayame came running up to me, panicked.

"Peachy." I looked at my soaked clothing in utter dismay. Just as I was about to get up from the ground, a gentlemanly man dressed in black stepped out of the limo. A butler? I stared dubiously at him as he reached out his hand.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"Oh, I'm great," I replied sarcastically. I had the right of way. I should not have had to escape death so narrowly. And I wasn't about to take his hand either. I shot him a nasty glare as I got up by myself.

"Your clothing... This is my fault. Allow me to make it up to you."

"What the hell was that? Don't you know how to read a road sign? Jesus Christ, you could have killed me!" I scolded him.

"You're right, I am so sorry." He bowed to me. "I'll get you a change of clothes," the man said gently.

"I don't need it," I snapped.

"Please, I insist. I can't leave a beautiful young girl looking like this. For one thing, my employer would be angry with me."

"Hotaru," Ayame whispered, "Maybe you should accept his offer. He looks like he feels really bad."

"You're too nice," I whispered back before turning back towards the butler. "Fine, whatever."

He smiled as he opened the door of the spacious limo and ushered us inside.

"My apologies. I should have stated earlier. My name is Aoi Shirafuji. I'm a butler to the Ichijo family," the butler introduced himself.

I stilled. "Ichijo?" I repeated.

"Oh, you know Mr Ichijo?" Aoi asked, looking somewhat concerned.

"No, I've just heard a lot about the Ichijo Group," I managed to force out. "The amusement parks the company has built is really quite impressive." I forced a smile. Somehow I felt like I just stepped on a landmine.

We arrived at a large and impressive mansion and Aoi took me to a room with a large full-length mirror and closets full of a wide range of clothing. "This way. Choose whichever you like."

The clothes were both my style and my size. It sent unpleasant shivers down my spine; I felt sick.

"Does a girl our age live here?" Ayame mused. I didn't answer. "Hotaru? Hey, are you okay? You seem a little tense." She furrowed her brow.

"Mm," I choked out. I didn't feel particularly eager to talk about it. "I'm... going to get dressed. Would you mind waiting outside?"

"Uh, yes, sure." Ayame knew me too well. She knew I wasn't being myself.

I took a shaky breath. Then another. Another. I took several deep breaths until I felt slightly calmer. I really didn't want to be here. Feeling like I wouldn't explode, I grabbed the first dress I saw off its hanger, not bothering to even look at it.

There was a knock on the door as I finished getting dressed.

"Yes?" I replied though I hadn't finished fastening the hook of the dress yet. It wasn't Aoi who entered the room.

"I'm Tomoki Matsuba. I'm one of the butlers here. I'm here to pick up the garments that require cleaning," the butler said. Bow-tied, black-suited and bespectacled, he exuded a rigidness befitting of a butler.

"Right. My cousin; did she...?"

"She went ahead to the garden," Tomoki responded.

"Oh." I bit my lip. Now what? I couldn't reach the clip on the back of my dress. I took yet another deep breath." Would you mind helping me fasten the hook on my dress? I can't quite reach it," I said.

"Please turn around." I did as he said and turned my back to him. He swiftly fastened the hook at the back of the dress before speaking again. "I'm going to do your laundry. Would you like some tea while you wait?"

"That would be lovely, thank you," I answered.

"This way." I followed Tomoki to the garden where Ayame was already waiting for me. She was sitting at a table, drinking from an elegant tea set.

"Kyo Aizawa. I'm a butler. Would you like anything else to drink?" Yet another butler introduced himself to me.

"The tea will be just fine, thank you," I replied formally as I sat down. Kyo promptly poured tea into the beautiful cup. "Thank you," I smiled up at Kyo once he was done.

"It's an original black tea blend using roses from this garden," he informed me.

"It smells wonderful."

"I recommend first tasting it black." A delicate pattern covered the teacup.

"This is Queen Rose, is it not?" I inquired, inspecting the cup. It suited the garden, but I was too on edge to enjoy it. Kyo didn't look the least bit surprised that I knew that.

"That's correct. It was produced in the early 18th century at the Raines factory." I nodded as I delicately held the cup and took a sip.

"How do you even know that stuff?" Ayame asked me. My only response was a small smile. Ayame cocked an eyebrow at me, inspecting my lips, and then my eyes. She gently placed the cup in its saucer and leaned over the table. "Hotaru?" she lowered her voice so only I can hear.

I shook my head. "Don't."

Ayame frowned but left it at that.

"It's delicious," I said after having tasted the tea, but the truth was I could barely taste anything. Silence fell upon the garden. Kyo didn't seem to be the talkative type as he watched over us. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed another butler approaching, a charming smile on his face. This family certainly had a lot of butlers...

"What's the matter? You look so serious," he commented.

"I always look like this," I replied calmly.

"Itsuka Matsuba at your service. You met Tomoki earlier. Last name's the same," he said cheerfully.

"Brothers, I take it?"

"That's right. Now, how would you two like some freshly baked scones?"

"Scones sound nice, don't you think so, Hotaru?" she asked, a little too cheerfully.

"Thank you," I replied. We were stuck here until my clothes got cleaned so we might as well.

"The strawberry jam is made with organic strawberries from our farm, and the clotted cream from milk from our cows." Was that supposed to impress me? Without responding, I cut open the scone and took a small bite.

"It's very delicious," I said before taking another bite. After eating, I elegantly wiped my mouth with a napkin and glanced at my surroundings. The garden was well taken care of. It was filled with gorgeous flowers and the landscape was really quite breathtaking. "You have a lot of pink flowers and roses here," I noted.

"We're growing them for a celebration," Itsuki replied.

"A celebration?"

"It will be our employer's birthday in a month. And his daughter will be introduced to society on the same day," he explained. It took everything I had not to tremble. Not to react in any negative way. I swallowed.

"Is that so? I'm sure she must be wonderful," I said, keeping the bite I was feeling out of my voice.

"She is. A bit of a diamond in the rough. But that'll make training her all the more worth it." I had to keep myself from barking a laugh, and almost faltered.

"Oh? In my experience, I've found that the rough diamonds are far more valuable than refined ones." I flashed him one of my most dazzling smiles. His eyes widened.

"Oh, how do you figure?" he asked.

"I apologise for not being able to put this more delicately, but in this society, I find these 'refined'," I air quoted the word, "diamonds to be little more than sheep." Itsuki didn't hide his shock at my words, and I smirked ever so slightly. "Of course, I don't blame them. They were raised that way. You know, to follow someone else's orders; someone else's plan for their lives. It's been imprinted on them since the moment they were born and it's all they know. Whereas a diamond in the rough, as you put it, is quite rare in high society, but personally, I find it invigorating. It's like a breath of fresh air in an otherwise suffocating world to meet someone who is willing to against the status quo to do what they believe in. You could even say it's like defying gravity, which, in and of itself is already a very impressive feat." I chuckled. "But, what do I know? I'm just a teenager." I didn't fail to notice Ayame's dubious expression directed at me.

Yet another butler walked up to us, holding my freshly cleaned clothes.

"Sorry I kept you waiting," he said. I had to admit, I was taken aback by how attractive he was. But he had a certain vibe that reminded me of my brother, Eisuke, and that usually only spelt bad things. "Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Yuma Akagi, and I'm the Ichijo family's head butler." Yuma bowed to me.

I smiled. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"I would like to apologize for the actions of one of our butlers today," Yuma said.

The corner of my mouth twitched. "I appreciate it. I'm just glad no one was hurt," I added. Yuma nodded.

"Meeting like this was, I think, fate. I hope... that you and I will meet again somewhere." I forced a chuckle as I looked away. If we did, I'd choke all of them. Yuma smiled significantly as he took my hand, then he gently kissed the back of it. The gesture was familiar, but it never got any easier to bear. "You were in the midst of moving. I'll have the limousine take you," he said.

"Thank you," I replied. I quietly watched Yuma give instructions to the other butlers.

After changing my clothes, Ayame and I got into the limo together with Yuma.

Ayame gave me another worried look as she was dropped off. "Hey, um, call me. Okay?"

"Sure." I nodded.

"Again, I am very sorry about today," Yuma said. It seemed like his attention was focused solely on me.

"It's alright."

"How did you find the house?"

"It was gorgeous. Absolutely breath-taking," I replied.

Yuma smiled, brimming with elegance and grace, but I could tell he wasn't actually buying a word I said.

We weren't far from the new apartment when the limousine came to a sudden stop.

"Are you alright?" Yuma's arms were around me, steadying me after the abrupt braking. I felt myself stiffen; my blood ran cold. In a panic, I pushed away from him. "Miss?"

"Sorry, I just don't handle physical contact very well." I shifted uncomfortably.

"I... apologize," Yuma said as he moved away from me. I shook my head.

"It's fine. But is there a problem?" I asked, looking away from him and out the window in an attempt to get rid of the tension in the atmosphere.

"It appears the road narrows up ahead. The car can't continue. This is as far as we can take you," Yuma explained.

"Here is fine. Thanks for bringing me this far."

"Before you go, might I ask how you found our service?" Yuma asked. An odd thing for a butler to ask.

"Oh, your service was superb." I got a sudden idea. "You're definitely on Geo's level."

"Geo?" Yuma asked. The corner of my lips tugged upwards. I got him. Hook, line, and sinker.

"My dad's butler," I replied innocently.

"Your... Dad?"

"Oh! I just realised I never introduced myself. Apologies. I'm just so used to people knowing I am. I'm Hotaru Ichinomiya."

"A pleasure, Miss Ichinomiya." Yuma smiled, but it was forced.

"I know this is probably common knowledge, but my dad, Akira, adopted both me and my brother, Eisuke. You see, my biological father abandoned me and my mother a long time ago."

Yuma's façade almost faltered, and I saw that. I was right; he knew!

"Abandoned?" Yuma asked, almost hesitantly.

"Yep. He didn't even show up for my mother's funeral after she died."

Yuma looked away. "I'm sorry to hear that. Perhaps there was a reason he couldn't take care of you?"

I leaned back in my seat. "I don't care."

"You... Don't care?" God, how many more times was he going to feel inclined to make me repeat what I said?

"I don't. No excuse he could have would ever be good enough."

"I'm sure he must love you." I could tell Yuma was choosing his words very carefully without divulging too much information.

"You can't love someone you don't know. I've never even met him. Or talked to him. You see, the way I see it, blood doesn't mean anything. Genetic doesn't mean anything. I'll tell you what does mean something though: When I needed a dad, Akira was there. Akira is my dad. And my so-called father was little more than a sperm donor." Yuma almost choked on his words, and I chuckled. "Not the most delicate choice of words, but it's the truth. The thing is, you don't get to be a dad just because you share DNA. He wasn't there when I needed him the most, and he has no right to take up that role now." Yuma was speechless. "But I'm sorry to dump all of that on you like that. That was really silly and unfair of me. Please, forget I said anything." I made a show of giving a nervous laugh.

"Not at all." Yuma knew I was full of it. And I knew he knew that, but he didn't say anything more.

"Well, it's getting dark. I really should be going."

"Of course." He got out of the car before I did and held the door open for me. I bowed politely to him and turned to leave. I was happy to see the moving truck in front of the building when I finally got there.

"Excuse me. I'm sorry I'm so late. I'm Hotaru Ichinomiya."

"We've brought everything inside. Have a great day, Miss." With that, the movers left. I stood still for a moment and frowned. They brought everything inside? I didn't have to guess how they did that. I had a really bad feeling about this. I just hoped to god I was wrong. I inserted my key and unlocked the door.

"Welcome home, Miss Ichinomiya."

I wasn't wrong...

I was unable to hide my disdain as the butlers bowed their heads gracefully. I slammed the door shut behind me. The composure I put so much effort into keeping all day crumbled in an instant. I stared at them, not saying anything.

"We're here to serve you. Starting today." Aoi said. The butlers brought me slippers. I glared at the slippers, then at them, and crossed my arms.

"Well. I wish I could say I'm surprised," I snapped scornfully. I slipped my shoes off, not bothering with the slippers as I walked into the living room and sat down on my sofa. Resting my elbow on the armrest, I pressed my forefinger against my temple and my thumb beneath my chin. "Well go ahead. Give me the whole speech about why you're here."

Itsuki cleared his throat, uncomfortable. "Do you remember when I mentioned our employer's daughter?" he asked.

"Uh-huh."

"That girl..." Itsuki started, only to have his sentence finished by Tomoki.

"... is you." I didn't respond. "But... you already knew that."

"And that surprises you, how? I have the power, money and resources to do just about anything. You really think I'd go through life being oblivious and naïve without looking into who my father is?"

"You're going to be a sophisticated woman by the time of our employer's birthday," Kyo said. Sophisticated. I could socialise quite well in and I knew how to conduct myself, but there were many in high society who would argue that I wasn't quite "sophisticated" or "traditional" enough. Men in high society liked controlling everything, and I had a reputation for going against the tide. But I've never been bothered by that before and I wasn't about to start now.

"Right. Your employer, Kazuma Ichijo. My so-called father."

"Yes." Aoi smiled. I bet women were putty in his hands with that smile. The stupid ones anyway.

I didn't say anything, and the tension in the air grew ever more palpable. I didn't take my eyes off the butlers either.

As the glaring continued, the front door opened and Mr Head Butler walked in.

"Why, hello there, Miss Ichinomiya," Yuma grinned as he unceremoniously locked the door.

"Oh, great. The cavalry's here," I said sarcastically.

"Yuma, she knows," Aoi said.

Yuma grinned. It was a sinister grin; the same one Eisuke got whenever he was plotting something. "I figured as much. Everything you said in the limo... You knew all along who Mr Ichijo is."

"What did she say in the limo?" Itsuki asked, curiously.

I snorted. "Believe me, if I'd known you were Ichijo butlers before I got in that limo, I never would have accepted your half-assed offer. But then again, something tells me whether I accepted it or not, we'd still all be here right now."

"Enough. I cannot allow and Ichijo to utter such vulgar words," Tomoki said with a scowl.

I snorted and rolled my eyes. "Oh yes? Try and stop me, four-eyes."

His scowl turned into an expression of both shock and offence.

"Well as fun as this has been, everybody out. Before I report you for break in and entering."

"I didn't expect you'd treat us like crooks. Not when you're the one violating your lease." Yuma held out a piece of paper.

I snatched the paper from his hand and skimmed through the contract until my eyes stopped at a particular 'special feature'. "Personal butler?" I read out loud. And right at the bottom was Akira's signature. My dad wasn't stupid. No way would he have signed this without checking every detail and have the family lawyer go over it for emphasis. Which could only mean he knew about this and didn't tell me.

"We had you come to the house to make the idea more palatable," Aoi said.

"Yes, yes. You set me up. I figured that out hours ago." I got up. "I don't believe this," I mumbled as I grabbed my phone and went into my room. I slammed the door shut and furiously dialled my dad's number.

"Yes?" He didn't look at the caller ID before answering.

"Hi, Dad. It's me," I said in a voice so sweet it sounded sickening even to me.

"Hotaru! I was going to call you in the morning. Have you settled in?" he asked.

"Yes, about that... Did the lease for my new apartment perhaps come with a tiny detail you forgot to mention?" I spoke through clenched teeth.

"The lease?" Akira remained silent for a few moments as he thought. "Oh! You must be talking about the butler service. It was a special they had just for your apartment. I figured having a butler would make your life a little easier."

My eyebrow twitched as I closed my eyes in exasperation. "So you did know about it."

"Of course. You think I'd sign something like that without thoroughly checking every word on it?"

"And you didn't think to warn me about it?" I breathed.

Akira paused. "You're upset..."

"Damn right I'm upset! Dad, you've been duped!"

"What are you talking about?"

"Those butlers! I wouldn't be surprised if they disguised themselves as real estate agents. They probably played on your worry as my dad, too."

"Hotaru, you're not making any sense."

"They're Ichijo butlers! They orchestrated this whole thing! The apartment, the lease, the butler service. All of it! All so they could, and I quote, 'turn me into a sophisticated woman' for his birthday party."

I heard Akira breathe hard over the receiver in an attempt to maintain his composure. "I'm calling Yuzuru."

"What's he going to do? They're practically untouchable, and not because they work for Ichijo. They planned everything to the finest detail and slipped through all the right loopholes. Everything on the lease is legal and you knew about the butler service when you signed it, so we can't even sue them for not explaining certain details on the contract. There's nothing we can do."

Akira paused. "You're right. But there's nothing on the lease about you following their rules. No conditions about you taking any kind of lessons from them. I doubt I need to tell you this, but you don't dance to the sound of their pipes. You dance to yours."

I smirked, relaxing a bit. "You know it, Daddy."

"Good. I'll call you tomorrow. Love you." I could hear the smile in his voice.

"Love you, too."

I took a deep breath before opening my door. Of course they were still there, and they likely heard every word I said to my dad, too. I took one annoyed look at them and moved to the kitchen.

"All sorted out?" Yuma asked sarcastically as he followed me into the kitchen.

"Why bother asking when you heard my entire conversation," I retorted.

There was a moment of silence before Yuma doubled over with laughter.

"I think this will be very interesting indeed," he said as he looked at me with amusement.

I didn't bother responding as I put the kettle on; nothing good could possibly come from interacting with him. I turned around and leaned against the kitchen counter, crossing my arms over my chest.

Yuma's sinister smile returned. I raised my eyebrows in a motion for him to get to the point.

"All you have to do is accept our training on behalf of our dear employer. It's only a month," Itsuki said.

My eyes flitted to him. "No," I said flatly before turning my back to them.

"You had etiquette lessons, but we need to make doubly sure you didn't miss anything. Not to mention kick that flighty nature of yours. Otherwise, you'd just be an embarrassment," Yuma replied with a broad smile.

I barked a laugh. "Wow. That is just hilarious." I turned back to him. "I already told you how I feel about him. And I know you know I meant every word. But just in case you're still processing, allow me to break it down for you. I can barely stomach the thought of breathing the same air as your oh-so-wonderful employer. He can go fuck himself for all I care. And you would be damn lucky if I decided not to embarrass him and his company on purpose, which, by the way, I'm still undecided on." Tomoki opened his mouth to say something. I pointed my finger at him without looking at him. "You say one word about my language, I swear to god I will punch you."

Yuma sighed, exasperated. "How you feel about him doesn't matter. We made a promise to him and we intend to keep it."

I snorted. "Good luck with that." I turned back to the now boiled kettle and prepared some camomile tea. God knows I needed it.

"Alright, it's time you choose," Yuma said. I could hear the amused smirk in his voice.

"Oh, I get a choice, do I?" I retorted.

"Who would you like to be your butler?" Aoi asked.

Next Chapter

[aspenflower17]

Finding You (Part Two of ??)

Hello again! I'm back with the second installment of my new series, Finding You, which was previously Untitled.  If you want to be tagged when I update this series, just comment below :)

 Part One Link

In this part, we finally get to Satan and what he's been doing during all this. It's not really a happy chapter. You have been warned.

I think it's important to note that I am American. In this part, there is a funeral. Since I don't know much about other cultures or religions way of holding funerals, I just wrote what I know (and that's very little actually. I've only been to two full funerals. I’d be happy to answer any questions you might have). Feel free to change the story up in your head to match your own funerary customs.

As always, likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated and help me endure the torture that is typing up this story from my notebook 😒 I also tried to make sure the editing on here was good. Any DM's for typos or things that didn't make sense are appreciated so I can fix them (please be kind though 🙂 ). I did write some of the funeral disjointed on purpose, trying to recreate how I was feeling when I attended the funerals I did.

Tags (for you lovely people <3 ): @obey-me-trashshshshsh, @naimena

F! MC/ Satan

Word count: 3,195

Warnings/triggers: ANGST!, description of funeral, loosing someone dear to you, some violence at the end though nothing too graphic (he is the avatar of wrath after all)

Satan had felt when Mc died. His pact mark had begun to glow and heat up. A terrible rending feeling in his chest, then… Nothing. He couldn’t move, fear completely paralyzing him. No, it couldn’t be…

Then he heard Mammon scream. Then Asmo. Then Levi. Soon, the whole House of Lamentation was filled with wailing. Satan scrambled for his D.D.D, hurriedly dialing Mc. No, no, no, no, no. He had just talked to her. She’d been fine.

“Hi! This is Mc. I can’t get to the phone-”

“No… No, no, no, NO!” Satan screamed, throwing his phone at the wall. Satan sunk to his knees in a sobbing heap.

The brothers never got an answer to what exactly had happened to Mc. Diavolo had confirmed she had passed, but he couldn’t get any details since she hadn’t been sent to the Devildom. He had managed to find out when and where the funeral would be, if they wanted to go. They would only be able to attend the graveside service though, since the viewing was being held in a church. 

Each brother attended the graveside service. Satan stood stoically as the casket was brought out of the hearse. He was wondering if he would be able to get Asmo to charm everyone in attendance so he’d be able to see her face one last time, when he felt his brothers all shifting around uncomfortably. He realized the religious figure he’d tuned out was quoting scripture at the congregation, promises that Mc was now in the hands of God. He decided to tune him out again. Then the casket was being lowered. He had to be physically restrained from going out and pulling her out as the first fistfuls of dirt were being thrown on the casket. How could they do that to her? A voice murmured a reminder that she was gone, and they were just saying goodbye. Well, he needed to say goodbye too. Maybe that wasn’t such a good idea.

Next thing Satan knew, he was at the corner of the grave, a flower he’d had a death grip on since they had started out from the Devildom in his hand. Her favorite. A shiny wood box met his eyes from 6 feet below. Was she really there? He couldn’t feel her presence from his pact mark. Where was she? When was he going to wake up?

The other demon lords watched their brother loose the fight with his emotions. He sobbed, falling on his haunches. Six hands found a part of Satan to touch, tears in their eyes as well.

“It’s time ta let ‘er go,” Mammon’s stuffy voice came from next to him. Satan looked over to find Mammon had removed his sunglasses. His eyes and face were wet.

“I… I don’t think I can,” Satan stated, tears falling freely.

“I know. I know,” Mammon said, pulling his brother in for a hug. Each of the rest of the brothers joined in the hug, pulling the fourth and second born up with them. After a bit, they all let go, moving forward to give Mc their own token and say their last words. When Belphie had finished, Lucifer put his hand on Satan’s shoulder.

“Mc’s waiting for her flower,” Lucifer said, gesturing towards the grave. Satan nodded, and walked forward. He fiddled with the stem for a second, trying to find the words to say, “Mc… Huh, I don’t actually know what to say… I guess, I… I thought I’d find some way to be with you forever. I never thought… I’ve never felt anything like you before Mc, and I don’t think I ever will again… Please… Please, if it’s possible, come back to me. Please,” he uttered as he dropped the flower onto the casket, and walked back to his brothers. He knew everyone was looking at him, confused and curious through their sorrow. They all stayed until the end of the funeral, when Satan turned to Lucifer, “I think it might be time to go.”

“If you’re sure, that would probably be the smartest course of action,” Lucifer nodded, the humans looking questioningly at the demons. The religious man from earlier was actually making his way towards them.

“I’ll visit her later when there aren’t so many people around,” Satan stated as he started walking. The brothers exchanged looks before following him.

The next couple months were quiet at the House of Lamentation. The brothers did the bare minimum required to keep the household going. They were all absent from RAD and Lucifer even took some time off from the endless amount of paperwork he usually did, to grieve. Mc may have been dating Satan, but the rest of the brothers loved her too, and missed her greatly. The only time the brother’s saw Satan was when he was raiding the fridge, finally giving into his stomach pleading for food. He still managed to look somewhat put together, though his eyes were dead and haunted. He had retreated so far into his mind if one of them managed to get him to acknowledge their presence they counted it as a win. He was a shell of himself, and everyone was worried.

Time marches on though, and life slowly returned to normal. One day, Lucifer had gone to RAD and come home with some random paperwork that needed to be done. Another, Asmo was going out to update his wardrobe because his was terribly behind the trends. Each brother found their own way of coping. Beel eventually asked if they could all have family dinner again. They all actually made an appearance, though Satan left once he was done eating.

Though he wasn’t doing well, Satan had been visiting Mc’s grave at least once a week if not more. Lucifer had granted him access to the portal indefinitely, a gesture of kindness that did not go unnoticed. At first he just cried quietly at her grave, not able to produce a coherent sentence. It slowly evolved into him reading her her favorite books or some snatch of poetry that reminded him of her. Eventually he was able to talk freely as he once had. Sometimes it was a mixture of the three. His brothers never saw him cry though. Since Mc had been the only one that seemed to truly understand his feelings, she was the only one allowed to see him cry. Through this self therapy, Satan started to heal. He started sitting in the common room with his brothers in the evening, or snorting at some joke that had been thrown around the table at dinner.

As the years passed, Satan would still visit Mc’s grave, though the frequency dropped. He slowly learned to deal with his sorrow, just like he had with love when he’d first fallen for Mc. It was much harder, his wrath often informing his depression. She became his support again, even if she wasn’t able to respond to help him through his feelings. He always visited on her birthday, bringing her a bouquet of flowers and some small piece of literature, art or playing her some music.

One year, while reading her some Shakespeare, someone came up behind him, “She appreciates it. I know she does.”

Satan stopped reading instantly, whipping around to see a woman who looked quite a lot like Mc, “Excuse me?”

“Coming to see her every year. You have great taste in art by the way,” the woman said, sitting down besides Satan, looking fondly but sadly at the headstone.

“Um, thank you. May I ask who you are?”

“Only if I can ask you the same thing,” the woman responded, smiling at him wryly. The look was so similar to one Mc would give him, he found himself instantly trusting this woman, “I’m S… Stan,” he answered, giving the nickname Mc come up with, when he had asked if he’d ever be able to meet her family. She’d laughed when she'd thought of it, saying she could never introduce him as Satan.

“Stan? I was wondering. She met you when she took that trip out of the country right?”

“Yeah… Did she tell you about me?”

“Oh, you want me to remember that far back? Hmm… I seem to remember her talking about how smart you are, “She chuckled, her eyes far away, “I remember one time, I went in to talk to her and she was furiously reading some book. When I asked what she was reading she told me she couldn’t talk to me right then, needing to catch up to where you were in the story. It was a silly little moment, but she looked so determined… I do know she was in love with you. Though she only really told me about you shortly before she died, I remember the look in her eyes when she talked about you. Telling me about how drawn she was the moment she laid eyes on you. You know what a romantic she was. As her Mother, you can guess how excited I was to meet you, especially after watching her get her heart broken before... You’re exactly her type, you know. Tall, blonde, smart. She was even thinking of introducing you to us. Then it happened.”

Satan didn’t realize the tears were flowing until she looked over and wiped a tear away. She continued, “I was disappointed when I didn’t see anyone that matched your description during the viewing. I don't know what kept you, but I am glad you made it for the casket lowering. I was surprised to see your brothers though, if that's who they were. You all look so different… Anyways, I’m sure she would've loved the intrigue you brought to her service. A handsome stranger, distraught at the thought of life without her. She always did love big, dramatic displays of affection.”

“You remember me from the funeral?”

“Who could forget? It became a topic of conversation in our family once we could all talk about her without crying. Who was that blonde guy? Why wasn’t he at the viewing? Who were the other men he was with? Did she secretly get married while she was out of the country? So many theories, each one more ludicrous then the last. It seems her best friend and I were the only ones to connect the dots as to your identity.”

“Ah. I’m a little embarrassed now,” Satan admitted sheepishly.

“Don’t be. I was extremely bitter after the funeral for a long time. How could my beautiful daughter be taken away from me? Parents were never meant to outlive their kids. I’ve never understood the reason people take photographs at funerals. Most of the time, there’s so much makeup caked onto the body they’re almost unrecognizable. There’s a photo of you from the funeral I actually saved though. You’re looking at the casket with such a look of longing and loss, just waiting for her to come back to you. That photo actually brought me a lot of peace after she was gone. Your look perfectly encapsulated how I felt at the time. It also helped me to know she was able to know that much love before she left. I never want you to feel embarrassed for showing that kind of love to my daughter.”

" She is and always will be the only one for me.”

Mc’s mother laughed, “Oh, you’re still young and quite handsome. You’ll find someone else. In fact, you don’t look like you’ve aged a day from the first time I saw you. You must’ve made some kind of deal with the devil,” she joked.

“Ah. Very funny. Yes. A deal with the devil. Haha.”

Mc's mother looked at him, slightly concerned, "Well, it seems I've made things awkward. I’ll leave you two alone now.”

“Oh, that’s okay. You don’t have to leave on my behalf,” Satan protested.

“It’s alright. I live close by, and I come and visit fairly often. Maybe I’ll see you around sometime. Good night, Stan”

“Good night, and… thank you.”

Mc’s mother smiled at him and walked away.

“Well, Mc, I guess I have your mother’s approval now,” Satan joked, turning back to his Shakespeare.

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

“Remind me why we’re here again,” Satan said, only slightly interested in the antics Mammon was trying to drag him into.

“Tryin’ to get some sucker… er, customer ta part with their Grimm, obviously,” Mammon explained, leaning back in his chair and turning to face Satan and Belphie.

“What does that have to do with us?” Belphie mumbled, eyes more closed than open.

“Well, everythin’! You two are super smart, so I need ya ta…” As Mammon continued talking, Satan wondered, not for the first time, if Mammon actually ever intended to make money with his schemes, or if he had simply found a way to work through his sin without causing too many problems. He had to understand how likely his plans were to fail… Right?

A bump on his shoulder announced Belphie had fallen asleep. Since Mc had helped him work through some of the trauma he had held onto since Lilith’s death, Belphie had gotten comfortable with his brothers again, growing especially close with Satan, their mutual dislike of Lucifer giving them something to bond over. When Mc had died, Satan had found Belphie to be the most supportive of his brothers. Though they'll lost had lost Lilith, Satan had found Belphie the most sympathetic to what he was going through.

“Oi! Listen when I’m talkin’ ta ya! Ya both younger than me, so you shouldn't really show me more respect.”

Belphie lifted his head, and rolled his eyes, “Mammon, do you really want me to do you a favor? How about this? Maybe, don’t explain how you’re going to con people in front of those you want to con.”

Mammon looked around worriedly, finally noticing the glares he was getting, before rounding on Belphie, “I was just explainin’ the plan ta ya and Satan cuz ya both asked again! If ya didn’ wan’ an explanation, ya shouldn’ have asked!”

Belphie was about to retort, when he got a self satisfying smirk, “Oh, dearest big brother, looks like you’ve got your first customer.”

Mammon went pale, turning around slowly to find a demon about as tall as Lucifer staring Mammon down, obviously angry.

Very interested in how Mammon was going to worm his way out of this one, Satan turned to say something to Belphie when he caught sight of a familiar hat. 

“Belphie, correct me if I'm wrong, but isn’t that Luke?”

“Hmm? You mean the chihuahua?... Oh, I think it is. Why do you suppose he’s here? I never heard we were getting any visitor."

"It's a little terrifying just how much you know. You're like Asmo that way."

"It's not my fault everyone just assumes I'm sleeping while they're talking."

"Belphie, you know enough, I think you store information while you're asleep."

"Huh… I'd never thought of that before… Who’s that other angel with him?”

“I don’t know… She kinda looks familiar though, don’t you think?”

Belphie looked over at him, arching an eyebrow, “Do you know any angels younger than Luke?”

“Well, no, but… She just looks so familiar.”

“I guess… Hey, you’re missing Mammon squirm.”

“You watch and enjoy. I’m going to go talk to them,” Satan said, clearly distracted, as he got up out of his seat.

“Where do you think you’re going?” a large body planted itself in front of Satan. The demon was tall, but so was Satan. He was able to look him right in the eyes.

“What’s it to you?”

“You’re with the guy that was going to scam us right?”

“You were actually going to fall for his scheme? Really? Well, the first step to getting the help you need is admitting you have a problem. Now, move. I’ve got places to be.”

“Not so fast Princess. You’re not getting away that easy,” the demon put out his hand and grabbed Satan’s shirt.

Satan looked down at the offending hand, and then at the demon, his horns already starting to sprout, “I’d suggest you unhand me if you want to keep your kneecaps.”

The demon laughed, a cocky smile on his face, “Ya think just cuz you’re an elite ya can take me? What makes you so special huh? Ya just think ya so great, just because ya pretty. Am I right?”

The rest of Satan’s demon form appeared, his eyes glowing, a menacing aura surrounding him, “No. I know I can take you because I’m the Avatar of Wrath. Maybe, if you weren’t such a dunce you’d have noticed that,” and with that Satan grabbed his hand in a bone crushing grip. The demon started yowling, trying to twist out of his grasp. It only made Satan increase the pressure. He leaned in right next to the demon’s ear, “Next time you pick a fight, understand who you’re dealing with first.”

He swept the demon’s legs out from under him, and put him in a wrist lock submission hold. The demon was now yelling for mercy, desperately trying to break Satan’s hold. Satan looked around to see if he could still see Luke, but realized quickly that wasn’t going to be possible. Both of his brother’s were currently dismantling whatever demon had decided to pick a fight with them. The rest of the area had erupted into chaos, most demon’s running away. No one wanted to be around when one of the Avatar’s were fighting, much less three! A couple idiots were trying to get in on their fight though.

Sighing, Satan leaned down again, “Well, well, well. Looks like you’re losing your kneecaps today.”

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

Satan muttered to himself, picking up bits of trash that had been left by the fleeing demons. Because of his involvement in the fight, he had to clean up the entire park. Trying to explain to Lucifer he'd been trying to walk away apparently didn't help when you'd put five demons in the hospital before he'd shown up to stop you.

“Well, Lucifer, if you could’ve just kept your cool, you’d still be prancing around with Simeon and Michael up in the Celestial Realm, making friendship bracelets, painting each other little rocks and braiding each other’s hair as you giggle about how… Huh?” Satan crouched down, noticing a small foot peeking out from a pile of leaves. Moving around to the other side of the pile, he saw it was the small angel that had been with Luke.

Up close, the feeling he'd met her before was even stronger. She looked so familiar, but he knew he’d never seen her before. The youngest angel he’d ever met was Luke. Maybe she was from the foggy memories of Lucifer’s he still had? That was forever ago though. She should've grown up quite a bit by now...

His musings were interrupted as the small angel moving. She winced as she sat up, holding her head, “Wha… What happened? Luke? Where are you?, then noticing Satan, “Oh, hello there. I’m sorry, but could you help me find my big brother?”

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

Part Three Link

[heyyyharry]

Chapter 1: The Princess

(from the ‘The Conman and the Maid’ series)

…in which a trip to the South changes a princess’s life forever. 

Word count: 5.4k

AU: princess!y/n, prisoner!harry, conartist!harry.

Series description: Y/N is a princess and Harry is a prisoner in her castle. With his help, she escapes from her arranged marriage and her father’s rotten kingdom in search of a happy ending, if there is one.

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PROLOGUE

Once upon a time, in a faraway land, a beautiful princess fell in love with a charming prince. It was love at first sight, and the prince risked everything and fought the evil to rescue the damsel in distress. After the victory, they ruled the kingdom in harmony and lived happily ever after...

But that was not the story you're about to read.

In this faraway land, the bad guys didn't always cloak themselves in black nor were they easy to spot. They lived among the good ones. Princes weren't always charming. But the princess didn't need a prince.

She needed a sword.

~~~

The snow fell weightlessly downward from the pure white sky, like colourless confetti in a wintry ballroom. It alighted on Y/N's face as softly as her mother's kisses, but it was cold, very cold. Her tiny gloveless hands were numb as she tightened her fingers around the grip of the wooden sword, trying to keep balance on her two awkward legs. Her mother had told her time and time again never to go outside without her gloves. But the little princess would rather lose her fingers than lose her weapon during a fight.

Her brother Egon stood a few feet away with his sword in his hand, mirroring her fighting stance, ready to attack. Egon was ten and she was eight. He was strong and fast, and their father — the King, was very proud of Egon's sword skills. Y/N knew there was no way she could beat him. She couldn't do that indoors let alone outside while she was freezing like this. Still, she didn't want to give up, so she hoped she would last longer this time.

"On guard!" Egon shouted and charged straight at her like a swift arrow. She managed to swing her sword and shielded her head from his wooden blade, but he continued hitting and she could only defend herself while stumbling backwards. One hit in the stomach and she was sent to the snow-covered ground.

"This is why a girl should not hold a weapon," Egon said with a smirk as the tip of his sword was just an inch away from the tip of her nose. "You can't fight, little sister. You only get yourself hurt."

Y/N propped herself up on her elbows and watched her brother lower his weapon and turn away, content with his victory.

"Can I try again when we get back?" she asked.

Egon looked over his shoulder, a corner of his mouth quirked up when he saw Y/N struggling to get up as her feet were sinking into the snow.

"Sure, dear sister," he said. "Then I can beat you up again and mother can't say anything about it."

Watching Egon race back to the castle, Y/N heaved a sigh and came to pick up her sword. The cold that had seemed mild at first was now almost unbearable so she must return home before she began to freeze, or worse, her father realized she had left her chamber.

.

.

.

"Y/N! You are late!"

"I'm so sorry, mother. I was—"

"Fighting again?" King Willem raised his voice and the distinct chattering of his men faded to silence. All they could hear now was the desperate howling of the wind through the portcullis. Everyone was looking at the little princess, for whom they had been waiting in the awful cold.

Y/N fidgeted with the fur on her white coat, her eyes were glued to her feet. She was too afraid to look up into her father's eyes.

"Please forgive me. It won't happen again," she pleaded, despite believing she'd done nothing wrong.

If she hadn't had to take a bath, change into a dress and wait until the maids finished braiding her hair, she wouldn't have shown up late. But she knew every word she said now would only get her into more trouble. It was better if she stayed quiet, like a lady should.

Meanwhile, Egon was sitting in his carriage with a mischievous smirk on his face. She knew it was him who had told their father where she'd been. Of course, he must have purposely forgotten to mention that he'd been with her the whole time. But even if she'd told the truth, her father would rather believe she was lying than punish his perfect son.

"Get the horses ready."

Willem turned away and the crowd of guards and servants scattered at his command.

The cold that was spreading across Y/N's skin was nothing compared to the look her father had given her as he headed to his carriage. If it hadn't been for her mother's sympathetic smile, she would probably have burst into tears.

Queen Meira kneeled down in front of Y/N and held her tiny face between her palms. The gloves felt so warm against the princess' cold flushed cheeks, which put a smile back on her face.

"Remember what I said, darling?"

"A princess should always be punctual." Y/N sighed, nodding her head. "I know, mother. It won't happen again."

Despite knowing she would break that promise one way or another, Meira still let Y/N get away with it and stood up, squeezing her daughter's gloveless hand.

"Come, my dear. Let's not give your father more reasons to be angry."

.

.

.

Every year, King Willem and his court would travel to the kingdom of Theros in the South to attend the annual summer festival. Edgar Connell was Queen Meira's younger brother and also the king of Theros. It was he who had taught Y/N how to fight with a sword and he was probably the only one who loved her more than Egon. In fact, her uncle Edgar didn't even like Egon, and that was another reason for Y/N to love visiting him. Egon couldn't lay a finger on her during their stay in their uncle's castle. Besides, the South was so much better than the North.

In the South, Y/N could stand under the sun and feel the warmth of those brilliant rays of light. She could also dance on a cushion of green while watching the strands of grass move in the breeze as easily as her hair.

Here in Isolde, it snowed all year round. Winter, spring, summer, fall, no matter what season it was, it was always snowing. Y/N guessed as you lived too long in the cold, your hearts would begin to freeze until it reached a point where you could feel nothing at all. That was why most of the people in this kingdom were so dull and sad.

Thanks to the Gods, she was blessed with a warm heart like her mother, a true Southerner.

Queen Meira had grown up in Theros, and it was only until she was married to Willem that she moved to Isolde. She had always said Y/N was more like her, while Egon was a Northern man like their father. That, and being a boy, had made life so much easier for Egon. He could go anywhere with his sword and fight anyone he wanted. But of course, Y/N didn't want to be like him and hurt innocent people for no reason. She just thought it was unfair that he was praised for violence while she couldn't even be seen anywhere near a toy weapon.

There was this one time her father caught her fighting imaginary enemies with a stick, so he broke the stick and locked her up in her chamber for two days. If her mother hadn't convinced him to change his mind, who knew how much longer she would've been punished? Nevertheless, Y/N didn't think she was wrong. It wasn't her fault that her father had never shown affection for her. He probably wouldn't have treated Egon the same way if Egon hadn't been a boy.

Y/N had overheard some servants in the castle call him a heartless monster who only loved the crown on his head and himself. And even though she understood why they had said something so cruel about her father, she knew for a fact that it wasn't true.

The one thing King Willem loved the most wasn't the crown or even himself. It was the woman who had been by his side ever since they were children.

"It was love at first sight," the queen had told Y/N. "He was everything I'd ever wanted. He was kind and patient and prudent. But to put on that crown, he had to leave so many things behind, one of which was that young boy I fell in love with. I love him very much, and yet, sometimes, I still miss the person he used to be. That's the price one has to pay to wear the crown, Y/N."

It was a lot for an eight-year-old to take in and Y/N supposed she would get it when she was older. Even if she didn't, it wouldn't matter. It was Egon who would be on the throne one day, not her.

.

.

.

It took about a month to travel from Isolde to Theros because the king and his court had made a few stops here and there before arriving in the South. Willem hated delays. But for every annual trip to Theros, he allowed one more stop by the Vidarr river right outside the castle. That was where he had met Meira for the first time.

It had been fate. They were supposed to meet in the castle, but Prince Willem had decided to explore the foreign land alone on that beautiful summer afternoon, and Princess Meira had decided to go to the river and pick some flowers for her mother's birthday. Their love story was almost perfect.

Y/N knew one day she would marry a prince as well, so hopefully, it would be someone who was just as madly in love with her as her father was with her mother. And of course, she would make sure that her husband stayed kind even after becoming king, the one thing her mother had failed to do.

Hopping off the carriage, Y/N turned a blind eye to the judging look her lady-in-waiting was giving her, and stretched her limbs like she'd normally do before a fight. Then, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. This was the smell they didn't have back home. The smell of flowers, of fresh dewy grass, of mud, of freedom, of summer. Real summer. So while her parents were lost in their own romantic world and reliving the good old days, Y/N snuck away from her lady-in-waiting and followed Egon into the forest. The children raced along the riverbank until they found a large tree and were far enough to be the only two there.

The water was green this season, darker in the shadows and more pale in the light, but still green. Y/N got down on her knees and flicked it with her hand to watch droplets scattering over the surface like rain, another thing that didn't exist in the North, just like snow in the South.

Just like her mother, Y/N loved the rain. It rained a lot in the summer in Theros so she got to see it every year. Meanwhile, many people in her father's kingdom had lived their entire life not knowing what rain was. And Y/N felt very lucky to be born with such a great privilege, which she always had to remind herself every time her brother made her feel miserable.

"What are you doing?" Y/N asked when she saw Egon stripping off his shoes and stepping into the river. "You cannot swim, brother. Neither can I. I won't be able to save you if you fall into the deep end."

"Does this look deep to you?" asked the young prince as he spread his arms, his knees hadn't even gone beneath the surface. "Join me, little sister."

Y/N shook her head without a second thought. "We should probably get back."

"Get back?" Egon snorted. "Go ahead. You're such a girl."

Those four words were all it took for Y/N to kick off her shoes and stand barefoot on the sun-warmed grass like a "girl" she should be. Maybe this wasn't a bad idea after all, she thought before holding up her dress and taking careful steps into the river. Once the water was flowing around her limbs and drinking away her body heat, she thought she could just stand there all day long.

But then, the princess felt something soft and mushy around her ankle. She tried to brush it off with her other foot but—Was it...moving?!

A loud scream tore through her tiny body as it collided with the surface and sank deep into the dark green water. Her arms and legs kicked out desperately as she tried to swim up but she couldn't. The water swirled around her, trapping her. Her head was throbbing and her lungs felt like they'd been set on fire. Where was Egon? Why hadn't he pulled her up? Those were the only questions she could ask herself before she felt a hand clasped around her wrist, dragging her upward to the daylight above.

It took a moment for her vision to clear, and a shadow towered over her, blocking the blinding southern sun.

"Can you hear me?" the stranger asked, his voice echoing in her head. And when she felt the warmth and softness of the grass beneath her body, she realized she was still alive and jolted right up, her forehead bumped into the other person's, both gasped in pain.

It was a boy. A kid, just like her.

"There, there," he said while rubbing her back as she coughed uncontrollably and spat out the water she'd involuntarily drunk. "Why did you go swimming when you couldn't swim?"

The little princess wiped her mouth and shot the boy a spiteful glare. "I didn't. I fell into the water. There was a snake!"

She expected him to be scared or at least shocked, but he only laughed and said, "there's no snake in this river. Maybe it was a fish."

Embarrassed, Y/N decided to ignore him as she pushed herself up and looked around, trying to recall which path would take her back to her family.

"Well, a 'thank you' would be nice?" said the boy as he jumped to his feet and wrung excess water out of the dirty old shirt he was wearing.

Y/N almost told him to get lost and stop wasting her time, but after taking a whole second to eye him up, she mumbled, "thank you."

She wasn't a monster. She felt very bad for how miserable he looked because of her, but she supposed she didn't look any better. She was drenched, her dress was stained, and her hair was once again an unruly mess. She didn't look like a princess anymore. She looked like...him.

With a smile, the green-eyed boy brushed his wet brown curls out of his face and extended a hand for her to shake. She only stared at it, and then at his face.

"Not a handshake person then?" he joked, yet she only responded with a shrug.

Normally people would bow when they met her or at least kiss her hand. This boy didn't know she was the princess so she couldn't blame him, but it didn't mean she wasn't slightly offended.

"What's your name, peasant boy?"

"Peasant boy? I just saved your life!" The boy chuckled, shaking his head. "I'm not telling you my name. You sound like that crazy lady in my village."

His comment made her roll her eyes. "How old are you then?"

"Ten. I don't know what you could do with that information but—"

"So you're the same age as my brother Egon," she said, giving him a once-over.

This boy was taller than her so she had expected him to be older. What surprised her was how he was nothing like her brother at all. He talked differently and behaved differently, and he had just saved her life when her brother had left her to drown. So it was true then. Not every boy was the same.

"I'm eight," she finally told him. "And you are very strange."

"Me? Strange?" He pointed a finger to himself, looking quite amused and surprised. "Have you heard everything that came out of your mouth?"

The princess gave a slight shrug and ducked past him to follow the path she had recognized.

"Leave me alone. My family won't be so happy to see you."

"Why? I saved you, didn't I?"

"Yes, now it'd be nice if you saved my time by leaving me alone."

"That was uncalled for," said the boy, but he kept on walking with her anyway. "And I'm not following you. I'm playing hide and seek with my best friend."

"Hide and seek?" Y/N stopped immediately. The look on her face as she turned around made the boy cackle.

"What? You've never played hide and seek before?"

She had, with the maids, who were all older than her and always let her win. Egon had never played and would never play this game with her, for he believed it was made for the girls. So, no. The princess had never played hide and seek, not properly at least.

"Of course I have! All the time!" she lied and waved him off. "Now leave me alone and get back to your friend. He must be worried."

"She. Her name is Kenny. She's pretty like you, but much nicer."

"Your friend is a girl?"

"Well, she looks like one," he said, trying not to laugh, but his snarky remark went right over her head.

"Is she your betrothed?"

"What is a betrothed?"

"Someone you'll marry when you're older."

"I don't know." The boy shrugged, pursing his lips. "Maybe. If we both want to."

"If you want to?"

"Why should you marry someone you don't want to marry? It doesn't make sense."

Y/N didn't know that. She had always thought everyone was betrothed to someone when they were small and eventually fell in love with this person their parents had picked out for them. So it didn't work this way then. Interesting...

"Crow! Where are you?!"

The voice from the distance made both kids turn their heads.

"Oh, that's Kenny! I have to go!"

"Crow?" Y/N smirked. "Your name is Crow?"

"No."

With that one-word answer, the boy ran away without a goodbye, shouting, "I'm coming, Kenny!" and then, he was gone.

Y/N thought she was insane for even considering asking to come along. He might have been slightly annoying, but she really wanted to play hide and seek like a normal child for once. But then the thought of her angry father reminded her that she must get back immediately; otherwise, there would be severe consequences.

"Oh, hello there."

Y/N gasped, completely blanched at the stranger she'd bumped into. It was a woman, young and beautiful like her mother, with piercing grey eyes and icy silver hair. Her face was white, corpse-like white, and her lips were as dark as the color of her cloak. As she flashed a smile, her gold front tooth turned Y/N to stone. The princess took a step back when the smile on the woman's face slowly disappeared.

"Are you lost, Your Majesty?"

"Wait, how do you—"

Y/N didn't get to finish her question when a loud piercing scream tore through the serenity of the forest. The strange lady now stepped aside to make way for her.

"You should get back before it's too late," she said, smiling again.

Frightened and confused, Y/N started running. She sprinted as fast as she could, following the scream which she had recognised. It only got louder as she got closer, and by the time she'd made it back to her family, it was already too late.

She knew there would be consequences, but this was even worse than she'd imagined. Her legs gave in as she watched the whip crack down on the maiden's back. The princess' lady-in-waiting was screaming and begging the king to spare her life, but King Willem just kept on whipping until her light blue dress was stained with fresh blood.

"Y/N!"

The whipping stopped.

The whole scene sank into silence as Meira dropped down to her knees and pulled her daughter close. Willem finally dropped the leather whip in his hand, catching his breath and told the guards to take the maid out of his sight. She was unresponsive when two men dragged her away.

"Is she...is she dead, mother?" Y/N asked, tears were streaming down her face and she was shaking in her mother's arms.

"No, she just...she just fainted..." said the queen, yet she sounded just as afraid.

"Where have you been?"

"Willem—"

"WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?!"

"I-I fell into the river, father!" Y/N cried out while clinging onto her mother in fear of being dragged away just like the maid. "Egon was there! He left me there to drown!"

"She's lying!" Egon pushed past the guards and rushed to the front. "I was looking for her but I couldn't find her so I came back to tell you, father!"

Willem put a hand up to silence the boy and glowered at Y/N, who was sobbing into her mother's chest.

"The princess will stay in her chamber for the rest of our stay. No one is allowed to speak to her except for the maid who brings her food."

"Father, no!"

"Willem, please..."

"And you." He turned to the queen and his voice started to break. "If you say one more word to defend her, you'll be locked up as well."

When he stormed off, Y/N looked up at the queen. That was the first time she'd seen her mother cry.

.

.

.

"Crow! Why are you wet?!"

Now, where could Harry begin?

He could tell his friend that he'd just saved a girl from drowning in the river, or he could make something up and save himself from hearing Kenny's same old lesson. But when the little girl gave him that worrying look with her big shiny eyes, he couldn't help it. He panicked. And whenever he panicked, he tend to mess up what he actually wanted to say.

"I met a girl."

"A girl?" Kenny arched both eyebrows in shock. "In the forest?"

"Yes. She was lost. I helped her get back to her family."

"That doesn't explain why you're wet though."

"Right..." The boy chuckled as he combed his fingers through his hair which had dried from staying out too long in the sun. "She...she splashed water on me."

"She splashed water on you?" Kenny gasped, her eyes only grew bigger. Harry knew he was going nowhere with this lie and he should back out while he still could.

"Just forget about her. She's gone now." He gave his hand a wave before reaching for hers to pull her along, but she didn't move. She shot him an angry look instead.

"Promise me you won't scare me like that again," she said, frowning.

Harry was left with no choice but to give her a nod and pull her into a tight hug. "Never again, I swear."

Everyone in their village knew about what had happened to Kenny's father last year. One day he was wandering to that same river and he never made it back. They found his body washed up on the bank a few days later. There had been many different rumours about how he'd died, but nobody actually knew what had happened. And since that day, Kenny had never come near a river or a lake again.

"Come on, let's get back to help your mum!" Harry said cheerfully with an arm around her shoulder. He felt like a weight was lifted from his chest when she plastered a smile on her face.

"You're only eager to help so you can attend the king's festival dinner tomorrow night!"

"Well, that's not...wrong," he said and they both laughed. "One day, Kenny, I'll become a lord, and the king will invite me to his festival dinner every year. I won't have to help in his kitchen to be able to attend."

"Will you take me with you?"

"To the king's dinner?"

"Yes!"

"Anything for you, my lady." With a smile, he took her hand and gave it a kiss.

He knew if he'd told anyone else about his dream, they would've laughed and made fun of him. But Kenny was different. She believed in him, and she always made his unrealistic dreams feel a little more achievable.

Ever since Harry could remember, he had fantasised about living the life of a prince even though he'd never even set foot near the portcullis before. That forest was the closest he'd ever been to the castle. As he climbed to the top of the tallest tree, he could see almost everything on the outside.

The walls stood mute as grey stones rose from the ground, defying entrance and protecting what had been entrusted to their care. Someday, he swore he would stand where knights stood and see what kings and dukes saw. Someday he would look through the window on one of those highest towers and the rest of the world — this forest, this river, would be so tiny.

But today, his place was in the kitchen.

His family was poor but Kenny's was not, relatively. Her mother worked in a kitchen of the castle which was quite a big deal for someone from their village. The Rowleys didn't like him very much. In fact, Patricia Rowley had bigger plans for her youngest daughter than being friends with a poor boy like him. Harry's father was a blacksmith, his mother was always ill, so his sister had to take care of most of the housework. He had no future at all. The Rowleys would never want him to be Kenny's—

What was that word the crazy girl had told him again?

Right, betrothed.

They would never want him to be her betrothed. But did he want that? What about her? Did she want that?

A smack on the head made Harry jump out of his daydream. He looked up and saw Patricia frowning at him. "You are here to work! Go out there and help Kennedy!"

Frightened, the boy hurriedly picked up the tray and carried the food out of the kitchen, to the tables at the back of the dining hall. They didn't let servants go anywhere near the royal family or their royal guests, but to see them from a distance was also a dream come true for him.

"That's the king of Isolde," Kenny told him as they hid behind the curtain at the very back to enjoy some fruits they had stolen from a drunk gentleman.

"Why is that seat empty?" Harry asked, pointing to the chair next to the Northern king.

"The princess couldn't make it. I heard that she was sick."

"Maybe it's too hot for her here," Harry joked, making Kenny laugh. He loved it when he made her laugh, even if it was unintentional.

"Maybe," she said with a nod. "The queen is very beautiful."

"Indeed. Do you think she's beautiful as well?"

"The princess?"

"Yes. I've never seen a princess before. I think she should be the most beautiful girl in her kingdom."

"What would you do if you could talk to her?"

"Oh, I would ask her to dance!"

Kenny didn't comment on Harry's answer, but as she stormed out, he realised it wasn't what she wanted to hear.

"Kenny, wait—"

Chasing after the girl, Harry accidentally bumped into a stranger at the entrance. His heart almost flew out of his chest when the beautiful woman flashed him a shiny smile and headed straight toward the king's table. Just like everyone else in the room, he couldn't take his eyes off her.

While all the guests were wearing the most colourful clothes, she was dressed all in black. Her skin was so pale it didn't look any warmer in the candlelight and her footsteps were so light it seemed as if she was floating. She looked like a ghost. A beautiful one.

Then, something else caught Harry's attention. He spotted a gold hairpin under the royal guests' table which he supposed someone had dropped, and nobody else had seen it because he was the shortest person in the room. The first thing that came to his mind was how pretty it would look on Kenny's hair. He had to get it for her, no matter the cost.

As King Edgar rose from his chair to welcome the mysterious lady to his castle, everyone was too busy paying attention to her to notice the little servant crawling under the tables.

"This is Madam Maggie," Edgar said. "She's a prophet, the most powerful one in the land."

"So she's a witch?"

"You can say that," Maggie smiled, unbothered by Willem's cynical remark.

"She communicates with the gods, and she can foresee the future," Edgar said, turning to the king from the North. "Willem, my brother. Would you like to see?"

"How?"

"I can read your palm and tell you about the future of your kingdom, my lord," Maggie said and there was already chattering in the background.

Willem was probably the least superstitious man in the room, so he just laughed it off and told her, "how about you read my son's palm to see what a great king he will be?"

Excited, the prince gave Maggie his left hand.

"The left hand represents your inborn fate while the right hand represents your destiny affected by different decisions and outcomes," said the prophet. "People's fates are governed by God while fortune is created by themselves. So which would you prefer, my lord?"

"Tell me about his destiny," Willem said after a moment of thinking.

"All right, my lord." Maggie gave a nod and stepped closer to take the prince's hand. The whole table fell to silence as she observed the palm closely and ran her fingertips across its lines. "You have two beautiful children. May I ask where the princess is?"

Edgar cracked a smile when he saw the looks of shock on his sister's and Willem's face and others'.

"The princess doesn't feel well so she cannot join us tonight," the queen said. And look on Maggie's face made her tremble.

"Is that so?" said the prophet as she turned to Egon. "If this boy becomes king, and he will—"

Egon sat up straight and fixed the crowd on his head as his father and mother smiled proudly at him.

"—your entire dynasty will go down in flames."

"Nonsense!" Willem roared as Egon withdrew his hand immediately. The whisperings of the other guests got louder as fear was etched on Willem's face, but Maggie still looked as serene as when she first arrived.

"This woman is mad! Guards!"

"Willem!" the queen cried out, but Edgar had already put up his hand to stop the guards before they could get to Maggie.

He turned to Willem with a stern look on his face. "Remember that Madam Maggie is my guest and so are you. A guest cannot request another guest to leave."

Willem was just about to reply when Maggie suddenly spoke, "the little princess, however."

"What about her?" asked Queen Meira.

"Princess Y/N is your only hope."

Maggie's short answer sent the whole table into chaos. While the other guests were discussing what the answer meant, the Northern family was frozen in their seats.

"Have a lovely evening, my lords and lady."

Bobbing a curtsy, Maggie turned away, and suddenly a tiny human jumped out of nowhere and dashed out of the nearest exit before anyone could figure out who it was. When they turned back, baffled and fearful, the lady in black had disappeared without a trace.

.

.

.

"Kenny! Guess what just happened in there!" Harry called out as he ran across the courtyard to where his best friend was sitting on the doorsteps.

She didn't look so thrilled when she asked, "is it about the princess?"

"Yes, it's—"

"Do you like her?"

Surprised by the question, Harry took a step back when Kenny got up and closed the distance between them.

"I haven't even seen her face!" he said, making her frown.

"You don't have to see her face to like her. Everyone knows she's beautiful!"

"She's a girl I don't know, Kenny."

"What about the girl in the forest? The one you do know." Kenny crossed her arms, her nose stuck up.

"She probably returned to her family already, and I won't ever see her again," Harry said and blew out his cheeks. "What is this all about, Kenny?"

The girl fidgeted with the hem of her dress for a moment before she could finally close her eyes and blurt out, "I like you."

"I like you, too," he said innocently.

She stared at him with wide eyes and mouth agape for a moment, but then realised he didn't get it so she waved him off and turned away. "You know what? Forget it."

"Wait, I got you something!" Quickly, he grabbed her by the arm and put the golden hairpin into her hand.

Kenny's eyes popped out when she realised she was holding actual gold.

"Did you steal it?!" she exclaimed, making him laugh.

"No, someone dropped it. Do you like it?"

"We must give it back, Crow!"

"We don't know who it belongs to," he reasons, giving a half-shrug. "Even if we did and returned it, they would probably think we stole it. I mean, look at us! Look at me!"

The way he humorously overreacted put a smile on the girl's face.

"Right," she agreed and pinned the hairpin on her hair. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Harry mumbled as his dimples popped up.

The children stared at each other for a long moment, and Harry believed his heart had never beaten so hard and fast. Before he could stop himself, the question just slipped right out, "do you want to be my betrothed?"

"What is a betrothed?" Kenny squinted her eyes and gave him the same look he'd given the crazy girl at the river.

"Someone...someone you'll marry when you're older."

"Oh...okay, then..." Kenny sucked in a breath, trying not to smile so wide. "Of course, Crow. I'll be your betrothed."

[novadust86]

The Best Laid plans - ch3

Chapter 3: Summer from Hell

Harry lay on his bed atop the threadbear blanket, his head resting on a pillow that had lost all of its bounce as he stared up at the ceiling. He was not having a good day. Hell, he wasn’t having a good summer at all. After his uncle had collected him off the train the ‘summer of hell’ had started almost straight away, with Vernon informing Harry that his sister, the woman Harry had been forced to call aunt Marge, was at the house. Apparently, after something had gone wrong with her plumbing it had revealed that some emergency work was needed on her house, so while the work was being done aunt Marge had invited herself to stay.

This had not left aunt Petunia happy. His aunt had entered Harry's rose bushes in some local garden competition (he refused to call them aunt Petunia's rose's in his head as he was the one who did all the work before he started Hogwarts). Marge had brought her prized bulldog 'Ripper’ with her and Ripper seemed to be deeply offended by the flowers and was doing his best to defile them. Uncle Vernon had then taken great delight in telling Harry of the rules for the summer, as well as how he had told Marge that his “no good, pathetic excuse for a nephew” was so bad he had been sent to 'St Brutus’ school for incurably criminal boys’, and, specifically, that if Harry so much as hinted at anything else his uncle would make him regret it.

---ϟϟϟ---

Uncle Vernon pulled the car onto the driveway. The two got out of the car without talking only to find Harry’s ‘Aunt’ Marge standing on the doorstep. She was very like Uncle Vernon; large, beefy and purple-faced, she even had a mustache, though not as bushy as his.’*

She started in on Harry before he even got to the front door, “so your back are you?” Not even waiting for a reply, she continued on, this time to her brother, “why even let the boy out Vernon? Surely that 'school’ is the best place for him?” Her less than subtle emphasis on the word school left no doubt that she was referring to the ridiculous fabrication of his uncle. “Teacher's need time off”, Vernon replied gruffly as he opened the boot for Harry to retrieve his trunk.

“What's in the trunk boy?” Aunt Marge demand, obviously looking for something to criticize, “Oh...Um...just my school things. School uniform, homework, paper, pens...that sort of thing.” Harry replied, automatically concentrating more on getting the heavy trunk out of the car then having a less than pleasant conversation with his aunt. Marge mulled that over for a few moments, looking for something else to scold, but evidently coming home from a boarding school with luggage and homework was expected. So, Aunt Marge fell back on her favorite insult, which was also a favourite of the two Dursley adults. Namely, calling him lazy and questioning his work ethic. “Well, you best take your trunk up to your room! No excuses for not getting your homework done! At least while you are doing that you aren’t off trying to break into cars or whatever it is you do!”

Harry froze and looked at his uncle. He knew Vernon didn't want him to have his school things, he didn't want Harry to do his homework. But, most of all, he didn't want Harry to have access to his wand. Not that Harry's wand was in his trunk. After everything that had happened the last two years, he had owl ordered a wand holster, and as such his wand was stuck to his arm and hidden with a perception filter charm. “Don't go looking to your uncle for help, boy! Get that trunk upstairs now!” His uncle, now standing behind Marge, nodded and mouthed 'for now’. Harry guessed that he couldn't think of an excuse on the spot to lock Harry's trunk away and had decided to pretend it was perfectly normal until he could think up something that wouldn't leave his sister suspicious.

---ϟϟϟ---

After that, there had been the start of the whole thing with Hedwig. While Marge had accepted Vernon's excuse that at Brutus’ they required pets to teach the boys responsibility, she still complained that her bulldog Ripper didn't like birds and that he was ‘sensitive’. Sensitive was apparently code for 'evil little shit', at least that was Harry’s opinion. He’d taken Hedwig straight to his room and set up a perch for her by removing the bars from her cage. It was crude but serviceable.  He had just gone downstairs to ask Vernon if there were any old newspapers he could line her cage with ,(there were always some as his uncle was an avid reader of the Daily Express. Harry however, always remembered what he heard a comedian say about it once "well at least they are true to their advertising, the paper is daily and clearly written in a hurry), when there was a huge racket from his bedroom.

Ripper had snuck into Harry's room when Harry left the door open and was trying to jump up on top of the wardrobe where Hedwig had retreated to avoid the snapping jaws of her attacker. Harry grabbed the dog to pull it out of the room and away from his owl. He had been able to pull the dog out but had received a bite on his right arm for his trouble. The door now closed and Hedwig safe, Harry now turned his attention solely to keeping Ripper's teeth from ripping into him again. This was not as quiet he’d hoped, as evidenced by the three sets of feet thundering up the stairs.

Harry felt sick just thinking about their reactions. First up the stars had been his uncle, who just stood there watching. Marge came next and the bitch fucking laughed and encouraged the dog. It wasn't until aunt Petunia had seen the blood that she said anything. But, not surprisingly, it wasn't to protect Harry, no, she was more concerned about Harry getting blood on the carpet.

God, He hated it here.

Aunt Petunia threw a toilet roll and a Crepe Bandage at him and told him to make sure not to get blood everywhere. Harry retreated to his room and sat on the bed. He made two pads out of the toilet paper, one for each side of his arm, and held them in place with the bandage. His arm seen to, it was time to strengthen out the room. He reset Hedwig's cage, then set about the task of coaxing her down off the wardrobe. Seeing his friend so shaken, Harry held her close, "It’s Ok Hedwig, it's Ok. I promise I won't let him hurt you. Only a few more weeks before we can get out of this shithole."

---ϟϟϟ---

The next few weeks had been filled with cooking, cleaning, dodging his cousin (who’d arrived back from smeltings the next day), and trying to do something to help the roses survive Ripper. This was easier than it might have been, as the dog had stopped caring about the roses. Instead, the bulldog was constantly camped outside Harry door trying to get in at Hedwig. Harry had been bitten three times more by the dog so far and he seriously doubted it would be his last this summer.

If that wasn't enough, he was seriously missing Hermione. To be fair, he was missing any friendly contact. His friendship with Ron was strained and almost everyone else cared little for Harry, only for the-boy-who-lived, some mythical hero they’d built up to some impossible standard that no one could ever live up to, let alone a small, underwhelming and bespectacled boy. All this and the fact that Hermione filled both the role of best friend and girlfriend meant that Harry was feeling rather alone.

It hadn't helped that since becoming a couple the two of them had been practically inseparable, never spending more than ten hours away from each other, even if most of that time they were asleep. It wasn't entirely their fault; they eat their food in the same hall, went to the same classes, studied in the same library and relaxed and slept in the same tower. Even when they weren't working together or chatting they tended to be in the same space. The only real time they spent truly apart was when Harry was practicing quidditch (Hermione only went to games, not practices) or when Harry was forced to go to classes while Hermione had been stuck in the hospital wing, once from the polyjuice and once from that bloody great big snake.

Even when Hermione had been petrified he had made his way to the hospital wing each day, telling Hermione about the classes he had had that day, then reading more of her books to her on the off chance she could hear him. Staying till Madame Pomfrey kicked him out for the day. He still wasn’t sure if Madam Pomfrey let him stay for Hermione's benefit or his own. He definitely felt, well...not better, but less helpless as he sat there reading the ‘The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy’ series to her. Just thinking of Hermione in that state lead his mind to another dark place. He couldn’t believe that Hermione had had the answer in her hand and that he had spent days sitting next to it the whole time. That damned snake, he wanted to bring it back to life just so he could kill it again for what it had done. The thought of that it sent phantom pains through the crux of his right elbow, a remembered pain of the venom burning its way into his flesh.

God, he hated summer.

---ϟϟϟ---

July 31st 

Harry awoke on his birthday like it was any other day at Privet Drive, with his aunt banging on the door and telling him to go cook breakfast. Harry wasn't surprised if he was lucky no one would say anything about him now being officially a teenager. Then he could pretend they had just forgotten, instead of deliberately doing it to hurt him.

He finished getting dressed; pulling on a lumpy old pair of Dudley's socks that he had grown out of about two years ago, a ratty old pair of trainers that he had grown out of at about the same time. Then he was off to cook enough bacon and fried eggs to feed a small platoon, or just three Dursleys. Aunt Petunia would have just tea and toast with whatever spread she chose that morning, if she stuck to her pattern.

Harry grabbed a package of 24 slices of British back bacon from the fridge, laying out the whole pack on the grilling rack and starting them to cook. He set the largest cast iron skillet on the hob, adding what he considered an obsessive amount of lard to the pan and set it on low heat. He put four slices of bread in the toaster, two cans of beans in a tub in the microwave and filled the kettle to boil the water for tea and coffee. Aunt Petunia as always was the first to come down, and her tea was already in the teapot and her toast cooking when she sat at the table.

“Marmite.” No please, no thanks, just the one word. Not that Harry expected anything else as he grabbed the tar-like paste from the fridge, setting it next to the plate that was waiting for his aunt's toast. Soon everyone was down and the Dursleys were eating. Breakfast done, Harry made his way upstairs, finally able to take care of needing the bathroom and brushing his teeth. As he cleaned his teeth he smiled to himself, thinking of the lecture Hermione had given him on dental hygiene.

It was rather an interesting topic that showed the difference between Muggle and Magical cultures. Muggles couldn't really fix teeth, they could only add a hard substance to fake a tooth being there, such as fillings and false teeth. So muggles focused on prevention, pastes and brushes to stop there being a problem in the future. Magical folk, however, they just used charms to keep their mouths smelling and tasting fine. This did nothing to remove the problem though, but if a witch or wizard had a bad tooth that was easy enough to fix; just vanish the tooth and down a shot of Skele-Gro. 6 hours later and they have a new, perfectly healthy tooth.

Harry made his way back to the kitchen to clean up after breakfast and to see if there were any leftovers so that he could eat this morning. To his surprise, there were two pieces of bacon and a slice of toast. Hardly a feast but plenty for him. He cleaned up the plates and mugs and grabbed the plate with the toast and bacon on it to put it on top of the pile of dishes he was taking back to the kitchen.

“One second, Harry” He froze at Aunt Marge's words, hesitated for a second then turned back to her. She smiled at Harry, then took the bacon and folded the toast around it and fed it to the dog in her lap. She had done this on purpose, she had left the food there till he had seen it, just so she could take it away in front of him. Harry wanted to scream, he wanted to shout, he wanted to take the pile of dishes he was carrying and smash them over her fucking head. But, he knew that was exactly what she wanted. Instead, he did the only thing he could to strike out at her. He denied her the confrontation she wanted by smiling at her, somewhat viciously, “anything else Aunt Marge?”

---ϟϟϟ---

Later the same day

Aunt Marge definitely wasn’t happy with how things went at breakfast. She had been pushing all day to get a rise out of Harry, ramping up the pressure each time. Now the Dursleys were sitting down to dinner, again cooked by Harry. Dudley had had the brilliant idea to get at Harry; he’d asked for shepherd’s pie and treacle tart for dinner. This was probably Harry's favorite meal, and despite the fact that both dishes were of the classic British variety; namely heavy, rich, hot and very filling and an absolute godsend when it was cold and wet, they were being consumed in the totally unsuited summer heat. So they sat there eating Harry's favorite meal, while Harry hasn't had a bite of food all-day on this thirteenth birthday.

Then there was the dinner conversation he had to listen to, “You mustn’t blame yourself for the way the boy’s turned out, Vernon”, Marge said between shoveling meat and potatoes into her mouth, “If there’s something rotten on the inside, there’s nothing anyone can do about it.” Harry's hands shook even as his face remained impassive though he longed to burn them with his anger, and magic. She wanted him to fight. He had to keep his cool. Don’t rise to it, “It’s one of the basic rules of breeding,” she continued on, definitely oblivious to Harry’s rising temper, “You see it all the time with dogs. If there’s something wrong with the bitch, there’ll be something wrong with the pup.”

How fucking dare she! She had never even met his mother, the woman who had literally given up everything, including her life, for Harry. Aunt Marge reached for her glass of wine, only to have the glass explode in her hand, the shards of glass cutting into her flesh. Harry watched as blood began to ooze from numerous small cut on the inside of her hand. Luckily, Marge just laughed it off, “Sorry about your glass Petunia. I have a strong grip. Let me just go sort my hand out. BOY! Clean up the glass, if even one shard ends up in my poor Rippy’s paw there will be hell to pay.

Her threat finished, she left for the upstairs bathroom, her hellhound in step behind her. As soon as she was out of sight, Vernon turned on Harry. “You dare use your abnormality to attack my sister!?” He was out of his chair and was pulling off his belt. “I di-didn't”, Harry stuttered, “T-that wasn't me.” The belt was in Vernon’s hands now, “BULLSHIT! I know your freakishness when I see it”, Harry had backed into a corner of the room trying to put as much distance between him and his raging uncle as the room allowed. Searing pain flashed over Harry's back and shoulder as the strip of black leather found its mark. Again and again, the blows fell onto Harry's left side, feeling like it was on fire as uncounted blood vessels where broken under the improvised whip.

Harry cowered in the corner, trying to react as little as possible to the beating, though some tears and pained moans still escaped from him. He had learned over the years that they were longer if he screamed. Then everything changed.

There was a loud screech of pain and everyone stopped. It wasn't Harry's scream. It wasn't even on this floor of the house and, it wasn't human. “HEDWIG!” The blood drained from Harry's face. Now he could see what had happened; Marge had broken the glass on purpose. She had done it so that Harry would be busy cleaning while she went upstairs and let Ripper into his room where Hedwig was sleeping.

Harry got up and tried to rush to the stairs, only to be grabbed by his uncle. His uncle opened his mouth to start yet another of his verbal tirades, though unfortunately for Vernon Harry was now too focused on his owl that he was no longer concerned with holding his power in check. As a result of delaying the desperate boy, Vernon was relocated to the far side of the room, where he suddenly found himself being reintroduced to his wall with a sickening pop and crack from his shoulder and arm.

Harry was up the stairs in a flash. He tried to push open his door, Hedwig's continued screechs calling him to help, but the door wouldn't open. He tried again but the door wouldn't budge. Then he saw it; Aunt Marge had locked one of the seven locks that were on the door, a relic of the last summer Harry had spent in this hellhole. She had also added a padlock. Harry's mind raged and his power responded, rushing out to unblock his path, exploding the door and some of the surrounding masonry that was keeping him from Hedwig.

If Harry had been paying attention, he would have seen Marge standing in the bathroom, the door wide open, watching. The sadistic women wearing the biggest shit-eating grin she had ever worn. As Harry pulled on the door to try and get in finding it locked she mouthed the words “got you”. Her triumph, however, was soon replaced by terror as at a gesture from Harry, the door exploded into shrapnel. Shrapnel that resembled matchsticks more than anything else and was suddenly filling the landing.

The sight that greeted Harry as the door disintegrated chilled him to the bone. Hedwig's pale white feathers were scattered around the room, her blood staining them, the ruby crimson standing out all the more due to the contrast. And there, in the middle of the room, a screeching Hedwig, her wing trapped in the jaws of her attacker.

Harry couldn't have held back if he tried, Hedwig wasn't just his pet and post owl. She was a magical creature and his familiar. And part of that bond was that his magic couldn't stand by and let her be hurt. While a more experienced wizard may have been able to direct the response more, Harry, with only two years of education under his belt, was just along for the ride. Harry felt the power in him flow, reaching out towards the dog, prying its jaws off the injured wing and freeing his friend. The offending mut was then thrown across the room through the door and into the opposite wall with a meaty thunk, where it slumped to the floor, never again to rise.

Seeing her prized bulldog stud die so suddenly cut through Marge's shock, fear and the rational parts of her brain. Marge charged at Harry, intending to hurt him for what he had done to her dog. But Harry still hadn't regained control of his magic yet. In fact, he was so worried about Hedwig he hadn't even tried. Hell, he was so worried about her, he didn't even know that he was being attacked. He would later find out that he had stuck his aunt to the ceiling with some accidental magic variation of a permanent sticking charm.

Harry now cradled his friend in his arms, tears freely flowing at the state of her wing. He stood, keeping Hedwig in his arms and just started walking, down the stairs, out the door, down the street. He had only a vague plan. Find a vet, get Hedwig to Diagon alley, there had to be someone there who could help. The problem was, without Hedwig he couldn't call for help from anyone. He had little Muggle money and he was down to his last 5 gallons till he got to Gringotts. He would use the Muggle money to get as close to London as possible. Then he would try and get the rest of the way as fast as he could, even if he had to walk.

He really needed Hermione right now. Hermione would know what to do. There would be a public floo access she had read about or a post owl office that he could use to call for help. Hermione would also probably know a better place to take Hedwig than a magical pet shop. Right now he just needed help.

It was then that Harry's magic decided to pull one more trick out of its hat tonight. He felt the flow of his power as it surrounded him, then started crushing him into a ball. Not painfully, but definitely not comfortable. Later, when Harry heard about Apparition training and the three D's, he would always add his own fourth; destination, determination, deliberation and lastly, desperation. He would also realize that he was incredibly lucky that all he left behind was his shirt, and not some part of himself.

That was how Harry appeared in the Grangers’ dining Room, covered in belt marks, bruising and dog bites. Nothing to hide it from the three sitting down to dinner, but an owl with a mangled wing and her blood that was covering him. Seeing the one person who he thought could help Harry relaxed, “Hermione.”

“Harry?!” With that one word from Hermione's lips, all the will and adrenaline that was keeping Harry going, allowing him to push forward despite the lack of food and heavy use of magic gave way and Harry's last act of will was to turn as he fell, ensuring that Hedwig would land atop him, not the other way around, as he slipped into unconsciousness.

---ϟϟϟ---

Author’s Notes

From now on, all flashbacks will be in italics, so that you’ll be able to see that it’s not at the same time as the story.

ok, I admit I hated myself a little when I had Harry made that promise to Hedwig knowing what was going to happen. I originally intended for ripper and marge to put up a stronger fight at the end of the chapter but this felt more right as I wrote it.

a few small parts are lifted directly from the prisoner of Azkaban

P.S props to anyone who can name the comedian who made the Daily Express joke I used.

chapters 1-45 are avalable on https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13294547/1/The-Best-Laid-Plans and https://archiveofourown.org/works/18862810/chapters/44770174

[somethingorotherrr]

Begin Again | Jin

Summary: Our lovely Seokjin and y/n fall in love at a young age, life happens and then a decade later (give or take) they cross paths again. 

Genre: Floofy fluff and angsty angst. Idol!au (kind of, at the very least it’s implied).

Warnings: Heh, beware of the happy ending.

——————– 

It was the long-awaited closing time at your bakery. The rainstorm outside had made for very little traffic the whole day and now it was finally time to switch off the lights and enjoy a nice night by the fire with a glass of wine. Making a move for the door to lock it, someone unexpectedly barged in. 

“I’m sorry, we’re closed…” your statement lost gumph as you took in the figure before you. Seokjin.

You hadn’t seen him in years, at least not in person. Of course, his face and his band member’s faces had inevitably popped up on your newsfeed or on the odd poster or commercial but you hadn’t seen him in person for a very long time, almost 10 years. And now here he stood, water dripping from his hair and down his cheeks as he stared at you like he’d seen a ghost. 

“Y/n,” you barely heard his whisper-like murmur over the background noise of the rain, but even so, the sound of his name on your lips after so many years sent your heart skipping and your mind spiraling back in time.

*Flashback*

You had known Seokjin for years, dating all the way back to grade school. In the beginning, you had thought he was just kind of an awkward kid that made bad jokes and this was true well into highschool. Despite this, he was admittedly very cute and you slowly developed a crush on him. The harder you crushed on him, the more you began to understand that he was a lot less awkward than you’d initially thought and the only reason you thought his jokes were bad was because you just didn’t possess the knowledge to comprehend them. After one or two times searching up his references, you discovered that he was, in fact, hilarious. 

The two of you were never close growing up and you were almost certain that he didn’t even know your name. He was definitely the kind of person everyone could get along with and his charisma and popularity only grew as he got older, so much so that you’d decided that there was just no way someone like you could catch his attention.

His rising up the social ladder in high school only made it harder and more nerve-wracking to approach him, you were beginning to feel like he was untouchable. Eventually, though, you finally got the courage to go up to him. It was the dreaded February 14th again, but this time you were determined to give him a rose or at least talk to him. You’d already purchased the bright red flower and you held it in your trembling hands as you waited for the last bell to ring. You, of course, knew where his last class was and you also knew that he had a habit of staying late to talk to friends. 

Finally, finally, the bell rang and you darted out of your seat, almost knocking over your chair as you made a bee-line for his class. As expected, he was still at a desk and surrounded by friends who were laughing hardily with him. Unsure how to approach him and not wanting to interrupt or have an audience when he undoubtedly rejected you, you waited with uncertainty by the door. 

After five or so minutes, his friends finally left and he was alone. Still waiting for him to leave, because the teacher was in there, you tapped your foot somewhat impatiently. You didn’t want to lose the courage and you knew you would if too much time passed. 

...But would it be so bad if you did chicken out? He was going to turn you down, you were sure of it, so why even put yourself through the embarrassment?

Because of the possibility that he might say yes. You thought and knew it was the truth. You were here for the chance that, despite how microscopic, he would say yes. 

Then he waltzed out of the room and your whole world shifted its focus to him. He was wearing thin round glasses and his uniform was immaculate, without a single wrinkle. His dark hair was getting a little too long and would’ve been falling in his eyes if he hadn’t strategically swept it to the side. 

“Seokjin?” the name left your lips before you gave it conscious permission to.

Seokjin turned around, brows raised as his eyes searched for who called his name until he finally settled on your small figure shuffling nervously by the door. 

When your eyes met, he gave you a small and polite smile that made your heart skip beats. 

“Yes?” he answered, his eyes trailing down to the rose in your hands and you knew he was already aware of why you were there. 

“I-I was hoping you would accept my rose? For Valentines?” You stuttered, wishing you’d just kept your mouth shut and never called his name in the first place.

At your words, you could see his ears get very red as he began to avoid eye contact. 

“You like me?” he questioned, uncharacteristically quiet and your heart flooded with dread.

“Yes,” you confirmed, shifting your weight uncomfortably. Too much.

“Okay,” he unexpectedly nodded, holding out his hand. 

Your head shot up, “okay? As in yes?” 

He smiled, though it was a little forced and you could tell he was embarrassed.

“Yes.”

Placing the flower gently in his palm, you bit your lip in contemplation. “My name is y/n, by the way”

He scoffed a little, probably insulted, “I know that”

***

The week following, you didn’t hear anything from him and that made you distraught. Had he only accepted your flower to avoid an awkward situation? You weren’t surprised that he didn’t like you back, only that he would do something like that. He’d always seemed like such a respectful and honest person, leading someone on wasn’t something you would’ve ever expected from him. 

Your thoughts all changed when you saw him in the hall outside your 1st-period class, eyes darting nervously around at every person that walked by. He wasn’t facing you all the way so he didn’t notice when you came up beside him and he jumped a bit when you tapped his shoulder. You smiled apologetically. 

When he saw it was you standing beside him, his tense muscles relaxed a bit but bunched right back up as he got ready to speak. 

“Y/n,” he paused, gathering the courage to say his next words, “can I take you on a date?”

Your eyes bugged at the question, thinking he’d just finally come around to tell you the truth—that he wasn’t interested. 

You stood there with your mouth open for a few seconds, making him even more nervous. 

“Y/n?” he repeated, snapping you out of whatever brain freeze you were experiencing. 

“Yes! Yes.” You blushed at how eager you sounded and attempted to make your second ‘yes’ sound calmer.

He relaxed at your agreement, giving you a smile that made your chest warm. 

“Can I have your number?” for as nervous as he must’ve been, he was surprisingly charming in his delivery this time. 

Your cheeks got darker as you took out your phone and you both exchanged numbers before reluctantly parting ways when the bell rang. 

The months following were pure bliss. Seokjin was about as big of a gentleman as one could get, always opening doors, shielding you from elements and never letting you pay—much to your dismay. He was who romance authors based all their books on. He was charming, kind-hearted, funny and surprisingly domestic. The first time you kissed was in your kitchen when you were baking a cake together for your little brother’s birthday. You’d flung some flour at him and he’d tickled you in retribution. When the giggles had finally subsided, it was like a fairytale as you stared into each other’s eyes, him slowly leaning in and capturing your lips with his. It was short and sweet but still had your heart beating as if you’d just finished a marathon.

Two years passed and you were the happiest you’d ever been in your life, Seokjin was a dream, one you loved with everything you had. You wanted to give him the world, but as graduation drew near, you began to realize that maybe the best thing for him wasn’t you. And maybe the best thing for you wasn’t him. He was destined for great things, to be seen and loved by the world, while you were smaller and just wanted a simple life and a successful career. There was no way you would let yourself hold him back—keep him from the life he was meant to live. That left two options; give up the life you wanted or let him go.

The conclusions you were coming to had you running to the bathroom, hurling your stomach’s contents into the toilet. You loved him so much, with everything you were, and the realization that you weren’t meant to be made you physically sick. Your heart clenched and your throat closed up as you fought the urge to break down in tears. You’d already made your decision and you hated yourself for it more than you’d ever hated anything. 

The following weeks, all the way up to graduation, you gave him as much love as you could. You’d spent every spare second you had holding him and you knew he’d picked up on your not-so-subtle change in behavior. 

“Y/n?” he murmured one afternoon as you rested against him while staring out at the lake you were visiting. You’d pushed to go to more places and see more things together because you wanted as many memories with him as possible. 

“Yes, Jinnie?” you smiled up at him, trying to hide the lump in your throat. He must’ve seen through you because his brow furrowed and he looked away. 

“Why does it feel like you’re saying goodbye?” he asked, his voice still quiet.

Your heart lurched at his words and you couldn’t help the tears that trailed silently down your cheeks. 

“What do you mean?” you spoke no louder than a whisper in hopes that he wouldn’t be able to hear the emotion that clouded your voice. 

“We’re together all the time, so why does it feel like you’re saying goodbye? Why does it feel like every time I let go of your hand, I’ll never see you again?” At the end of his sentence, he pulled away, turning to face you. 

He didn’t seem surprised to see the tears on your face or the sorrow in your eyes, “Why is this goodbye?”

*End Flashback*

“Y/n, it’s really you” he seemed like he was in a trance as he stumbled towards you. 

“Seokjin!” You gasped as he startled you by pulling you into his embrace. The still familiar feel of his arms around you had you melting into him. He felt like coming home after years of being lost, stumbling aimlessly through life. 

“I can’t believe it’s you” he was clearly in shock as he pulled back and stared at you, his hands keeping a firm grip on your arms like he was scared you’d disappear into thin air any second.

Your eyes darted around, trying to find an explanation as to why he was here. 

“What are you doing here?” You finally asked in the softest voice you could manage. It felt like there was a massive lump in your throat that briefly made you wonder for the millionth time if you had made the right decision all those years ago.

He stood taller now and with his hair pushed back and his glasses on, he looked a lot more mature as well. In every accidental internet sighting that you’d seen of him over the past three or four years, it looked like he hadn’t aged a single day. He still looked exactly the same. 

A sudden wave of insecurity hit you. How much had you aged? How different did you look?

“I-I was driving,” he paused, tucking your hair behind your ear, his attention redirected. “You cut your hair”

You nodded, placing a hand on top of his to pull it away from your face. That seemed to break him out of whatever daydream he was in and he stepped back. 

“I saw you in the window...I had to know if it was really you” he continued his earlier sentence.

“How are you?” the question came out before you could really think about it. When he’d stepped away from you, it’d sent an intense panic through you. You weren’t ready for him to leave yet.

He seemed to be on the same page as you because he suddenly surged forward again, bringing you back into his arms and you couldn’t stop your own arms from snaking under his expensive unbuttoned coat and hugging him back tightly.

I love you. Those words bounced around in your brain, threatening to spill out of your mouth but you were careful to keep a tight lip.

This time, when he stepped back, there wasn’t as much sorrow in his movements. He seemed to absentmindedly stroke your cheek and hair as he admired your face.

“I love you” he suddenly blurted, seeming just as surprised by the revelation as you were.

“What?” Your heart was damn near bursting with emotion and for a second you questioned if this was all a dream. 

“I’m sorry—I didn’t—I mean—” he backed away, shaking his head. 

“You didn’t mean it?” Your heart broke at the notion.

“No!” He stopped you, “I did! I just—I know I have no right to say that. You’re probably married or something. I mean, it was like a decade ago, I should be over you. I’m so pathetic, I’m so sorry” he rambled, tugging at his once perfectly styled hair. 

“It’s only been you.” You announced, catching his attention.

“What?”

“It’s always only been you. I don’t know why, but I never...never loved anyone else. I gave you my heart a long time ago and you never gave it back” You let off your chest. 

He furrowed his brow, “then why...just why?”

You knew what he was asking. “I didn’t want what I knew you deserved. I was selfish, but I don’t think I made the wrong choice”

It was true, now you were sure you had been right in letting him go. Without you, he’d been given the unobstructed opportunity to stretch his wings and fly. You could see that now.

“...What I deserved?” he echoed. 

“I knew you were meant to do something big and obviously I was right, I mean just look at what you’ve made of yourself. But back then, it felt like I would’ve had to give up my own dreams to be with you in yours”

He didn’t answer for a little bit, contemplating your words. “And now?”

“And now,” you paused, collecting courage, “now I know it’s possible to do both”

He stared at you, taking in your expression. Whatever he saw must’ve agreed with him because he strode forward, cupping your cheeks and connecting your lips. 

“I love you” He whispered when you finally broke apart. 

“I love you”

All those years ago, it had been a case of the right person at the wrong time—you were both too young with so much love but lacking enough life experience. Back then, you didn’t know it was possible to compromise and if you’d stayed together the regrets and what if’s weighing you down would have eventually torn your relationship apart. You had to live your own life and learn. Now you were two lucky souls that got to try it again, this time at the right time.

[bookishable]

deathly hallows book moments

warning: this one’s a rollercoaster ride of emotions, read at your own risk.

‘the idea of a teenage dumbledore was simply odd, like trying to imagine a stupid hermione or a friendly blast-ended skrewt.’

“i don’t think you’re a waste of space.”

‘he felt like asking them to show a little more respect for his privacy as they all began stripping off with impunity, clearly much more at ease with displaying his body than they would have been with their own.’

ron: why do i have to clean my room? mrs weasley: !!! WEDDING !!! ron: theyre not getting married in my damn bedroom

“we’re coming with you. that was decided months ago—years, really.”

“if i picked up a sword right now, ron, and ran you through with it, i wouldn’t damage your soul at all.” “which would be a real comfort to me, i’m sure”

harry waking up on his birthday forgetting he was 17

“accio glasses!” although they were only around a foot away, there was something immensely satisfying about seeing them zoom towards him, at least until they poked him in the eye.

ron giving harry a book called twelve fail-safe ways to charm witches for his birthday

“i’ve learned a lot. you’d be surprised, it’s not all about wandwork, either.”

‘the rest of her speech was lost; harry had got up and hugged her. he tried to put a lot of unsaid things into the hug and perhaps she understood them’

“are you planning to follow a career in magical law, miss granger?” “no i’m not, i’m hoping to do some good in the world!”

“it’s time you learned some respect!” “it’s time you earned it”

hermione: when we were little we heard stories like snow white and cinderella ron: what’s that, an illness? harry: rip me i never got read any stories

“a brutal triple murder by the bridegroom’s mother might put a bit of a damper on the wedding.”

“merlin’s beard, what is xenophilius lovegood wearing? he looks like an omelette.” excuse me why wasn’t auntie muriel like this in the film

“he used to down an entire bottle of firewhisky, then run on to the dance floor, hoist up his robes and start pulling bunches of flowers out of his—” “yes, he sounds a real charmer”

harry suggesting that xenophilius lovegood’s deathly hallows necklace is the cross-section of the head of a crumple-horned snorkack

“vot is the point of being an international quidditch player if all the good-looking girls are taken?”

‘harry heard her mutter a suggestion as to where ron could stick his wand instead.’

harry reading lily’s letter and noticing that they wrote their g’s the same way as each other, i’m sobbing

‘the letter was an incredible treasure, proof that lily potter had lived, really lived’

KREACHER’S GODDAMN TALE

kreacher hitting mundungus over the head with a saucepan “perhaps just one more, master harry, for luck?”

“if anyone shouldn’t go, it’s harry, he’s got a ten thousand galleon price on his head—” “fine, i’ll stay here, let me know if you ever defeat voldemort, won’t you?”

‘with a twinge of regret that had nothing to do with food, harry imagined the house-elf busying himself over the steak and kidney pie that harry, ron and hermione would never eat.’

‘not knowing or caring that their living son stood so near, his heart still beating, alive because of their sacrifice and close to wishing, at this moment, that he was sleeping under the snow with them.’

the sign outside the wreckage of the potters’ house, covered with messages left for harry

the child who had the nerve to say “nice costume, mister!” to mr tom riddle the dark lord voldemort, what an icon

“after you left, she cried for a week. probably longer, only she didn’t want me to see. there were loads of nights when we never even spoke to each other. with you gone… she’s like my sister, i love her like a sister and i reckon she feels the same way about me. it’s always been like that. i thought you knew.”

“you’ve sort of made up for it tonight, getting the sword. finishing off the horcrux. saving my life.” “that makes me sound a lot cooler than i was” “stuff like that always sounds cooler than it really was, i’ve been trying to tell you that for years.”

ron single-handedly fighting off five snatchers by telling them he was stan shunpike

“he must’ve known i’d run out on you.” “no, he must’ve known you’d always want to come back.”

“i just think it’s a bit spookier if it’s midnight!” “yeah, because we really need a bit more fear in our lives”

“death’s got an invisibility cloak?” “so he can sneak up on people, sometimes he gets bored of running at them, flapping his arms and shrieking…”

luna decorating her bedroom ceiling with paintings of her friends (i’m not crying, you are)

POTTERWATCH

“we’re all human, aren’t we? every human life is worth the same, and worth saving.”

“i’d tell him we’re all with him in spirit, and i’d tell him to follow his instincts, which are good and nearly always right.”

hagrid throwing a ‘support harry potter’ party

“the fact remains he can move faster than severus snape confronted with shampoo when he wants to”

“no! you can have me, keep me!” this book went from making me smile to shattering my heart in around three pages

‘hermione was screaming again: the sound went through harry like physical pain.’

ron’s ‘passable imitation of wormtail’s wheezy voice’

“so young, to be fighting so many.”

‘ron said, “blimey, a baby!” as if he had never heard of such a thing before.’

‘he seemed set on course to become just as reckless a godfather to teddy lupin as sirius black had been to him.’

“he was never free, never, the night that your brother died he drank a potion that drove him out of his mind. he started screaming, pleading with someone who wasn’t there… it was torture to him, if you’d seen him then, you wouldn’t say he was free.”

“i’m going to keep going until i succeed—or i die. don’t think i don’t know how this might end. i’ve known it for years.”

“i got this one for asking her how much muggle blood she and her brother have got.” “blimey, neville, there’s a time and a place for getting a smart mouth.”

“yeah, well, food’s one of the five exceptions to gamp’s law of elemental transfiguration,” said ron, to general astonishment.

“why would harry potter try to get inside ravenclaw tower? potter belongs in my house!”

‘harry heard a little strain of pride in her voice, and affection for minerva mcgonagall gushed up inside him.’

harry using the cruciatus curse on amycus in front of mcgonagall because “he spat at you”

mcgonagall dueling snape and sending a swarm of daggers at him

“where’s professor snape?” “he has, to use the common phrase, done a bunk” minerva i love you

neville throwing mandrakes over the walls

“is this the moment? OI! there’s a war going on here!” “i know, mate, so it’s now or never, isn’t it?”

‘and percy was shaking his brother, and ron was kneeling beside them, and fred’s eyes stared without seeing, the ghost of his last laugh still etched upon his face.’

‘a herd of galloping desks thundered past, shepherded by a sprinting professor mcgonagall.���

harry stunned the death eater as they passed: malfoy looked around, beaming, for his saviour, and ron punched him from under the cloak. “and that’s the second time we’ve saved your life tonight, you two-faced bastard!”

trelawney using crystal balls to knock out death eaters ‘with a movement like a tennis serve’

“are you a wizard, or what?”

“you must kill me.” “would you like me to do it now? or would you like a few moments to compose an epitaph?”

‘this cold-blooded walk to his own destruction would require a different kind of bravery.’

‘he was tiny in death.’

‘he felt he would have given all the time remaining to him for just one last look at them; but then, would he ever have had the strength to stop looking?’

“we’re all going to keep fighting, harry. you know that?”

“i am sorry too, sorry i will never know him… but he will know why i died and i hope he will understand. i was trying to make a world in which he could live a happier life.”

“until the very end”

“this is, as they say, your party.” harry had no idea what this meant; dumbledore was being infuriating.

“it is a curious thing, harry, but perhaps those who are best suited to power are those who have never sought it.”

“do not pity the dead, harry. pity the living, and, above all, those who live without love.”

“of course it is happening inside your head, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?”

‘the scream was the more terrible because he had never expected or dreamed that professor mcgonagall could make such a sound.’

ron breaking voldemort’s silencing charm “he beat you!”

“i’ll join you when hell freezes over, dumbledore’s army!”

harry calling voldemort tom riddle like “yes, i dare”

‘tom riddle hit the floor with a mundane finality, his body feeble and shrunken’ where please, movies?

‘mcgonagall had replaced the house tables, but nobody was sitting according to house anymore’

peeves’ song voldy’s gone mouldy

‘tears were sliding down from behind the half-moon spectacles into the long silver beard, and the pride and the gratitude emanating from him filled harry with the same balm as phoenix song.’

harry FIXING HIS DAMN WAND

“i’ve had enough trouble for a lifetime.”

“if you’re not in gryffindor, we’ll disinherit you, but no pressure.”

albus complaining that everyone is staring and ron being like “it’s me. i’m extremely famous.”

‘the scar had not pained harry for nineteen years. all was well.’

[raendown]

Pairing: MadaraTobirama Word count: 5175 Chapter: 24/42 Summary: Not all wars are fought on the battlefield. Some are fought at the conference table, with whispers in the shadows, or even in the bedroom.

In a world where the Senju and Uchiha traditional lands were too far apart to have ever made them enemies, Butsuma and Tajima are the ones who come together and sign a treaty of peace. Madara isn’t happy to have his life signed away for him in a political marriage to strengthen the bond between their clans. He is even less happy to have Tobirama make assumptions of him from their very first night together. What follows from there is a journey of healing, of learning, and finding the places to belong in the places least expected.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header!

Chapter 24

“Have you seen – oh. Thank you.” Tobirama paused in tearing apart his half of the closet to accept the folded bundle of material that appeared beside his head. He stood still for Madara to peck him on the cheek and drop the missing clothes off before trundling away again, unaware of the red eyes following him with soft gratitude.

Now that he had his favorite yukata in hand Tobirama was free to hurry in to the bathroom so he could get changed. It still confused him a little that Madara could go to a public bathhouse and not bat an eyelash yet the two of them changing in front of each other was somehow not allowed but he had decided it wouldn’t get him anything to push the boundaries. All that would accomplish would be a flustered, irritated husband and possible backsliding in the relationship they had both worked hard to build together.

Reminding himself to keep his mouth shut, he rushed through changing his clothes and used the large mirror over their sink to make sure everything about him was as well put together as possible. Today they were attending a large gathering in honor of Susumu’s birthday and although he knew she wouldn’t think anything of it even if he showed up covered in honey and blood he also knew the Uchiha elders still had a tendency to look a little too closely at him. Many in the clan had warmed up to him quite a bit since he stopped holding himself quite so far apart but the difference in the way he presented himself to others was still a little strange to them and the elders often had a hard time figuring out whether or not he was truly content among their people.

“Quit primping your hair and get out of there,” Madara called through the door, making him roll his eyes.

“If either of us spends too much time on their hair it is you,” he called back. When he opened the door Madara was huffing but he did not take his words back. “The bathroom is yours, your highness.”

“Damn straight I’m highness. My highness? I’m a highness? Oh just shut up and let me get in the bathroom!”

Tobirama nodded with a solemn expression until the other man pushed past him and threw the door shut, then he allowed a smile to peek through. What a ridiculous person.

It did take Madara significantly longer to get himself ready but Tobirama was gracious enough not to mention it and they were heading out for the celebration only a few minutes after his husband stomped back out of the bedroom with his hair somehow messier than when he had stormed inside. Outside they passed by many other clan members who had no connection to the crotchety old baker who sometimes joked about poisoning her pies. Tobirama noted every gaze that followed the two of them down the street and tallied up the ratio of approving glances versus blank disinterest, pleased to conclude that there were more people happy to see them out on a stroll together than there were people who had other thoughts, whatever those may be.

Once they reached the streets closer to Susumu’s home they started encountering other party guests, a couple of whom tried to pull them in to speculation over what sort of scandal would go down this year. Evidently the old biddy was sort of infamous for causing some kind of scene every year on the one day she claimed she should be able to get away with anything. Tobirama still wasn’t sure how he felt about the story Madara told him the night before recounting the year Susumu disappeared in to the woods and made the whole party chase her down for an hour and a half. She had apparently only returned for the bribe of alcohol.

“Are we expected to announce ourselves to the woman of the hour?” Tobirama asked as they let themselves in to the home.

“Nah. She mingles and finds people on her own.” Pausing to eye the snack table with interest, Madara shrugged. “We’ll see her at some point so don’t worry about it.”

“If you’re sure.”

“Let’s get some of that food, I am famished.”

Tobirama followed along and thought that sometimes it was very clear how this man could make such fast friends with his brother. Straight to the food table would have been Hashirama's first move as well and he would have been wearing just the same kind of eager light on his face, though Madara at least made a poor attempt to retain his dignity by not grabbing at the treats with his fingers, using whatever utensils were provided to portion out a few morsels.

It seemed like such a simple idea to turn and scope out somewhere for the two of them to sit down or even a corner to stand in while they nibbled on their food but in the few seconds Tobirama had his head turned away it was almost as though his companion had fallen through to another dimension, gone by the time he looked back. Blinking around the room yielded no sign of Madara anywhere. How was it possible for a man with such thunderous footsteps to slip away that quietly? It just didn’t seem fair. Or maybe that was the instinctual discomfort talking as Tobirama realized he was now alone in a room full of people he didn’t know how to talk to.

Much too dignified to call out for his husband over the noise of the crowd, Tobirama opted for moving through the people scattered about the home with a look of concentration on his face that he knew from experience usually gave off the impression that he knew where he was going. Generally people tended to stay out of his way when he put on that face and it did the same job now – mostly. He made it over to the other side of the living room and through the kitchen before something small yet solid collided with his legs.

“Sensei!”

He knew that voice. Tobirama looked down with a tiny smile already growing, unable to make himself feel irritated for nearly dropping his plate.

“I hadn’t expected to see you here today,” he murmured. Kagami beamed up at him and squeezed his leg harder.

“Hi! I’m glad sensei came! All the other adults are being boring and talking about adult stuff but sensei always says interesting stuff. Say something cool!” With that demand he stared up at his role model with eyes almost as wide as his grinning mouth. Tobirama stared back at him and tried not to look over at the people he could see giggling in his peripheral vision, pretending they were only laughing at the exuberant child.

“What constitutes ‘cool’?” he asked because it was always good to know the parameters of a given task.

Unfortunately his question sent the little imp off in a fit of his own giggles while all the adults turned away to make their amusement less obvious. Tobirama hoped his ears were not burning. Clearly he was making a fool of himself somehow but it was not his fault Kagami refused to clarify!

“Have you seen Madara?” he asked, hoping to change the subject since that one wasn’t doing him any favors.

“Nope! Come over here with me, sensei, I want to show you the backyard!”

The easiest thing to do was give in to his fate so rather than fight it Tobirama allowed a small hand to wrap around his own and pull him through the rest of the house towards the sizable backyard. One corner was taken up by a small table and several lawn chairs, some of them shaded under umbrellas while others had been left in the open for sunbathing. Another corner had a small garden with messy rows of what looked to be a mish mash of probably whatever seeds Susumu could find at the time, no rhyme or reason and no scheme to be found, but it did have a homey sort of charm that still reminded him a bit of Hashirama's greenhouse.

Mostly the yard was filled with more adults milling about with drinks or food in hand. Kagami pulled him along in a slow march around the perimeter while pointing out every tiny little detail he could think of, all of which Tobirama had already noticed, though he absolutely refused to say so. It was good to see Kagami’s observational skills had improved so much.

At the end of the impromptu tour Kagami asked him brightly if there was anything else he wanted to see.

“Our host, perhaps,” he suggested. “I don’t suppose you’ve happened to see her around? I should like to wish her a happy birthday.”

“Yeah! Yeah she’s probably still over in the side yard!”

“Lead on, then.”

He let himself be marched onwards once more through a small gate and found that Kagami had indeed been correct. Susumu may be short but her personality was so big it would have been hard not to see her the moment he turned the corner in to a small alley of grass between the homes. More flowers were planted here, though it looked like the seeds might have been blown in by the wind rather than tended by any human hands. The birthday girl was dancing around directly on top of one as she demonstrated something for an amusing story she seemed to be recounting.

The moment she spotted him, however, the story came to a grinding halt so she could put both hands on her hips and grin at him in a way that made Tobirama consider turning around to flee.

“Don’t do that,” he told her admonishingly. “I don’t like that face.”

“You dog!” she cried. Then she leapt forward to smack him on the arm and laugh at the bafflement on his face.

“I am not a dog.”

“Oh you know what I mean. I hear you and that no good student of mine are very close these days.” To his embarrassment, it took a raunchy wink for her meaning to sink in.

Tobirama pinched the bridge of his nose and ignored the confused questions from Kagami as his own student tried to figure out what that was supposed to mean. “Do lower your voice, if you don’t mind. That isn’t the sort of thing one shouts out to an entire house full of people.”

“Aw take the breadstick out of your ass, we’re not even inside!” Susumu laughed his concerns away but he did notice she spoke a little lower this time.

“I came to wish you good tidings. Congratulations on making another trip around the sun without dying,” he told her in his driest tone. She roared with laughter and pounded his arm again. “I don’t suppose Madara stopped by to say the same? We lost track of each other as soon as he dropped whatever sugary monstrosity this is on my plate.”

Both of them looked down to see the baked treat directly in the middle of all the healthy vegetables he had chosen for himself. He knew it was likely she was the one who baked the treat but it wasn’t blueberry so he wasn’t going to eat it; Madara probably dropped it there just to annoy him. Or maybe because he’d run out of room on his own plate and he knew it would be safe there.

“Haven’t seen him.”

“Mn.” Tobirama very carefully did not allow his nose to wrinkle. Without Madara's company he wasn’t sure how long he could last without accidentally offending someone and ruining all the effort he’d put in to improving the goodwill between himself and the rest of the Uchiha clan.

“You look a little constipated,” Susumu distracted him before he could spiral. “Got something on your mind?”

Shoving down his first instinct to find offense in that, Tobirama blinked at her thoughtfully. Of all the many things he wouldn’t care to bring up with Madara for fear of upsetting the balance he couldn’t think of a single one that was likely to offend Susumu; she seemed fairly unflappable in all the interactions he’d had with her. Something must have shown on his face for her to see that he indeed had something more than well wishes to say.

He was a little concerned when she turned to the handful of people she’d been telling her story to and shooed them away but they took it with little surprise and no complaints, obviously used to this behavior. Susumu glared at their backs until they had all moseyed around to the backyard proper and then turned to set her gaze on Kagami. The little mite stared back at her with the emptyheaded sort of happiness only children and true fools could achieve. Tobirama had seen it often enough on his own brother.

“What do you think you’re still doing here?” she demanded.

“I want to stay with sensei.”

“Too bad! You can’t!”

“You’re not the boss of me,” Kagami pointed out. “Sensei is!”

Tobirama ignored the warmth clenching in his chest and dropped a hand to scrub at dark curls. “Your boss has a mission for you then. Find Madara and tell him he’s a naughty thing for abandoning me like that. Also tell him that he’d better not wait for me to find him first or else.”

“Or else what?” Kagami asked breathlessly. With a mild shrug Tobirama smiled.

“Nothing. I just want him to sweat a little bit.”

Making his student laugh was a simple joy that he felt no guilt for cherishing, clinging to the sound of it as Kagami turned and flew across the grass to weave his way through the party goers in search of his target. Only when he was entirely out of sight did Tobirama turn back to the woman waiting for him and clear his throat, entirely unsure of where to start.

She must have seen his struggle once more, giving him a brief command of, “Just be blunt.”

“Right. I was hoping to ask you something I don’t think Madara is prepared to talk about. As I understand it, in your culture sex is…important to a relationship, something not to be shared lightly. That bit is clear. What I wanted to know was, ah…” Rubbing at the back of his neck did nothing to quell the embarrassment rising thick in his throat, forcing him to forge on at nearly a full octave lower than his regular speaking voice. “Does that apply to all intimacies? Or merely the act of intercourse?”

Physical relationships hadn’t been a big deal to him since he was old enough to have the process explained to him and experiment a little with a few people close to his own age. Which also, however, meant that he hadn’t had to ask anyone for advice on sexual matters in quite a long time either and he was now discovering the utter awkwardness of it all. The eyebrow Susumu had lifted was not helping, either.

“You want to know if you two can fool around in the sheets a bit?” she summarized. Tobirama gurgled.

“Nothing so crass!”

“Oh don’t try to slip past me with fancy wording. Dress it up however you like, you want to get a little busy with my precious biscuit and you want to know if it’ll freak him out again!” The laughter she followed her words with, in his opinion, was not at all necessary.

Scowling to combat the mortification of having his motivations broken down in to something much too simplistic, Tobirama didn’t bother correcting her. He could see when he would not win that fight and there was no point in wasting his time trying to convince her of what he really had in mind for this topic. After a calming breath he tried to bring the conversation back on track before more company showed up.

“Is it against your culture or not?” he asked. “This isn’t exactly something we’ve ever sat down to have an in-depth discussion about and I would not like to make another misstep as I did on our wedding night.”

“Fine, fine. It’s…frowned upon. Madara is his own person and he is free to make choices for himself but he knows that if anyone found out somehow that he gave his body to someone he wasn’t in love with his peers would lose some respect for him. They would think he acted little better than a red district harlot.”

“Ah. I see.” Tobirama knit his brows together, a little angered by that but unwilling to speak out against a culture not his own.

“On the opposite hand, there’s some other factors to consider as well. The two of you are married and everyone knows you’re quite happy now. It’s not exactly far-fetched for a married couple to be intimate with each other, you know? And on top of that: wasn’t the hardest part of the beginning trying not to let the public know you weren’t happy? For all anyone knows the two of you have been boinking on every surface in your house this whole time.” Susumu snickered when Tobirama balked.

Boinking was not a term he expected nor one he appreciated being used in conjunction to his relationship with Madara. Half the reason he was asking was out of a desire to express his affection in the best way he knew how. From puberty he had learned to show how he felt using his body in whatever way was appropriate to the situation, small pats and hugs for his brother in private moments, holding Touka’s hand on the rare occasion she needed someone there for her and then never mentioning it again.

With Madara things were a little more complicated. He felt more than he currently had the tools to express and yet he didn’t feel comfortable using words that wouldn’t be returned in kind. Intimacy, however, was something he knew very well.

“Thank you for being so straightforward,” he said. What she had told him would need a little thinking on but his first impression was that it simply wouldn’t be a good idea to ask anything more of Madara than they currently had. The last thing he wanted was to drive a wedge between them again and in all honesty he truly was content with the way things were; if he were unable to express himself a little more, well, it wasn’t as though he would have expected Madara to know what he was trying to say anyway. If the best thing to do was to wait for Madara to initiate anything further then he would do so without complaint.

“Blunt is my specialty,” Susumu declared, tossing her head with a little snap of sass. It would have been much more impressive if her hair weren’t caught up in its usual tight bun.

“I do not doubt that. Should we rejoin the party?”

“Yeah, let’s go find your husband and pretend we’re both mad at him. Want to take bets on how long it takes him to crack and start apologizing for nothing?”

Tobirama granted her a tight smirk and offered a respectful arm. She accepted with an off-color comment he chose to ignore as he led them both around to the back of the house where several people gave them curious looks but he chose to ignore those too.

As predicted, Madara was already nervous by the time he shoved his way through the crowd inside the house to find them and spent several minutes dancing around his words trying to figure out what he’d done before demanding they tell him so he could just get the apology over with. He was not happy to have Susumu laugh in his face and declare herself the winner of the bet. Not wanting it to get too out of hand, Tobirama diffused the anger before it could properly build by brushing their hands together discretely, linking their smallest fingers together in what to him counted as quite a public gesture. He was embarrassingly thrilled to feel Madara weave their hands together properly – even if the man was still glaring at him.

Before he could allow himself to get too wrapped up in their own little bubble of intimacy Tobirama was distracted by the appearance of Kagami at his side once more, smiling brilliantly up at him with both hands on his hips.

“Did I do good, sensei? Was he scared? He seemed really scared when I told him he did something bad.”

“Snot-nosed little weasel,” Madara grumbled. “You were in on it!”

“And he did very well indeed,” Tobirama said.

Kagami squirmed joyfully for a moment. Then he visibly restrained himself and gave a sober nod of thanks. “Mama says I should treat you with more respect. So, uh, thank you.”

The effort lasted for perhaps ten seconds before Tobirama very solemnly offered him whatever baked sweet was in the center of the plate he was still toting around. As soon as he was offered a bit of sugar all thoughts of propriety flew out the window and Kagami was back to his usual self, bouncing and twirling in what appeared to be some obscure sort of dance as he devoured his gift. Madara glared at him a little harder for swiping his food.

As amusing as the two of them were to watch it was that much more interesting to watch Susumu’s head jackrabbit from one side to the other with something undetermined yet dangerous in her eyes. Before Tobirama could ask what she was thinking about she had disappeared to squirm underneath someone’s legs, completely ignoring their startled exclamation as she scurried along on her mission with no thought for dignity. Tobirama cocked his head to one side and followed her with his gaze as she disappeared in to the kitchen and reappeared only a minute or so later. He bit the inside of his cheek when she ducked under the same poor man’s legs to come back.

She looked more dangerous than ever as she pressed a fistful of something in to Kagami’s hand and closed his fingers over the bounty before anyone could see what it was.

“Would it be safer for us to evacuate the premises?” Tobirama asked hesitantly, not wanting to seem impolite.

“It’d save your nostrils, that’s for sure!”

“Right. Come along, Madara.”

Grunting when his arms was tugged firmly, Madara kept his eyes locked on Kagami and Susumu as he let out a protesting, “Hey! What gives?”

“I do believe the two of them are about to start in on whatever madness your teacher has in her head for this year’s entertainment.” Tobirama pulled his husband close so they could speak without being heard over the muted roar of several dozen conversations. “I’m not sure what she just handed to Kagami but I would bet a good week’s pay it was either smoke bombs or flash bangs.”

“Oh excellent.” Madara did nothing to hide the cackles that spilled out as Tobirama pulled them towards the front door and then thought the better of it.

Nothing would seem more suspicious than the two of them escaping the party to go home just before the excitement started and it seemed a pity to leave so soon after arriving. He rerouted them towards a side door when he spotted one and hustled the two of them outside on the opposite side of the house where nothing grew but weeds in an unmaintained side yard. The brick wall several feet from the side of the house probably had much to do with that.

“We’re not going home?” Madara asked and Tobirama shook his head.

“Just escaping the worst of the madness. Unless you’d like to go back inside and deal with whatever she and Kagami are about to unleash?”

“No, I think this is fine. Kind of boring though.” His husband looked around at the grass and brick and weeds with a distasteful twist of his lips, clearly judging as though he were some sort of landscaping expert disparaging the choices of whoever thought to build their home here. It made Tobirama smile. How soon they all forgot the frantic speed with which the original buildings had been raised and the slapdash nature Tobirama had not entirely been able to convince their fathers out of.

A dozen and more blueprints he had designed and still they had let buildings from each clan run free to create chaos as they would. The memory still made him shudder when he thought about it.

Looking back over his shoulder, Tobirama wondered how long it would be best to stay out here. He didn’t hear any shouting yet but he had no doubt it would start soon; it was probably safest just to wait for that to die out. Or maybe a little longer. Who knew whether Susumu had a secondary plan of some kind up her sleeve?

“I’m sure we could find something to keep you entertained,” he murmured after a few beats.

Rather than blink at him curiously as expected Madara dipped his chin to look up through his lashes with an expression that would almost be considered coy if it weren’t so blatantly hungry, clearly picking up on what Tobirama was really trying to say and offering no resistance.

Without another word Tobirama slid both hands around his husband’s waist and pulled him close for a warm kiss that almost managed to drown out the sudden cacophony from the other side of the door. It wasn’t fire and it wasn’t brimstone but in that moment Tobirama had everything he needed in one small village growing bigger with every day, everything he wanted between his hands and the strength not to hold too tightly for fear it would all slip away from his grasp. With an old woman’s words in his mind Tobirama let Madara come to him, asking no more than his partner wanted to give.

He yearned. Oh how he yearned. No one was here to see it if they pressed themselves against that forgotten brick wall where he could show this man more pleasures than he’d ever dreamed of and maybe take a few in return. Closing his eyes just a little bit tighter, he pushed those thoughts away.

So caught up was he in reminding himself to hold back that he nearly leapt out of his skin when he felt hesitant fingers pushing under the collar of his shirt to stroke along the lines of his collar bone. The move was unexpected enough that it shocked an involuntary sound right out of him, a groan that rumbled up from the bottom of his soul. Madara shivered against him and slipped another finger under soft cotton until Tobirama caught his wrist and gently pulled the questing hand away.

“You, husband, are a very dangerous man. Did you know that?”

“Um. Yes. Why does that mean you have to stop kissing me? We were busy, if you didn’t notice.” Madara huffed at him and he shook his head.  

Ducking in for one more kiss, he leaned forward to gently rest their foreheads together. “I did not mean dangerous in that sense.”

“Oh. Oh. Were you–?”

“You caught me off guard, that’s all. I promise to control myself a little better in the future.”

“No that’s– I mean, sorry?” Madara frowned and puffed his cheeks out with embarrassment but, to his credit, he didn’t make any move to pull away. “I mean I don’t…mind…if you like something I do…I guess.” With every fragment of sentence his frown deepened and Tobirama would have pitied him the awkwardness if he weren’t feeling quite the same.

He wasn’t entirely sure how Madara intended his broken words but the message which came across was that he didn’t mind if Tobirama found himself aroused by something as long as he didn’t wave it around or anything. The last bit was mostly implied by extension of logic.

“Do me a favor?” Tobirama murmured.

“Mn?”

“Stop talking and just kiss me again before one of us does something even more idiotic.”

“I can do that.” Gratitude stamped across his face, Madara pulled him down and all but devoured him. Other than the residual awkwardness in needing to keep his hips tilted away at just the right angle, Tobirama had no problem with that.

He did have a problem with being interrupted when the door opened some ten minutes later for Kagami to spill through it and almost send them both crashing to the ground. Unrepentant giggling proceeded a rather lackluster apology before the boy immediately set off on an excitable tale of why his hair was now covered with an unidentifiable red goop. Tobirama noted Madara inching out of sight behind him and valiantly kept his student’s attention occupied until the other man was finished readjusting himself.

Apparently he wasn’t the only one who enjoyed their kisses a little too much, a very interesting point that he would need to think about for a while before he could decipher the entirety of how that made him feel.

“You should come back in, Madara-sama. I think I heard someone say that Susumu-baasan went too far this time and they’re gonna take her head off and he didn’t like it when she laughed in his face. They’re fighting in the living room. Baasan said it was just sparring but that’s not how sensei spars with me!”

“Oh for hell’s sake,” Madara sighed exasperatedly. He didn’t seem too worried, though he did shuffle around Tobirama to head back inside. “Always cleaning up the old hag’s messes.”

“Should we be in any way concerned?” Tobirama asked mildly.

Kagami bounced over to pull him along as well. “Baasan always makes someone angry at her birthday parties. I think she thinks it’s funny.”

“That does sound like her,” he admitted.

It wasn’t quite the entertainment he had planned on going back to for at least another ten minutes but if the look Madara threw over one shoulder was anything to go by then this wasn’t exactly the end of their little distraction. With a smile Tobirama followed his two favorite Uchiha in to the chaos; he could while away a few more hours here if the reward was to have Madara all to himself later. That would always be a good trade in his books.

As they opened the door, however, Kagami piped up with another little nugget of information neither of them had expected to hear.

“Sensei should probably come inside too anyway. Your dad is here! Momma says I need to be extra respectful of him but he didn’t seem to like it when I laughed at him for having sticky hair. Do you think he hates me now?” He didn’t seem to notice that his words sent icy cold slithering down Tobirama’s spine.

“I’m sorry…my father is what?”

[snowbellewells]

Happy Birthday Krystal!!! ~***~

{Okay, @kmomof4, I think I have dithered over this and fretted and edited as much as possible for one day. I genuinely hope that you will like this addition to my French Revolution CS AU universe! Probably because it was for you, but this isn’t going to be all of it either. I think there will be a couple more parts - if not three - though I’m not going to promise any sort of time frame for them until I have written some of the other pieces I’ve committed to this month.

Anyway, I am so lucky to have you as a fandom friend and a dedicated reader and encourager. I feel so blessed to have met you and am grateful for your support constantly. This really isn’t enough, but I hope that it will add a bit of enjoyment to your special day.  All the best to you today and always!!}

On the eve of Revolution, when it seems his whole world is falling down around him, nobleman Killian Jones is given a reason to keep fighting for his life…

Previous Installments: Part One    Part Two

Part Three

The pounding rush of hoofbeats outside the makeshift tent where she was attempting to suspend and dry the clothing she had washed in the nearby stream sent her heart into her throat as the thundering drew up outside, shaking the ground beneath her feet. Though Emma had now been living in temporary encampments with Killian and with Liam’s regiment nearly six months, under his brother’s watchuful eye and protection (despite Killian’s chafing at the overprotectiveness) she still found herself tensing at the sound of new arrivals. Would this be an angry mob? Messengers bearing horrible news? She couldn’t help it when she thought of the climate around them and the way she and Killian had fled their home with pursuers on their heels.

This time though, she did not have to worry or wonder very long, as within moments, she heard Killian’s rich, strong voice calling out her name just before he threw back the tent flap and appeared, beaming at her, in the opening. “Swan!” he greeted breathlessly, his eyes alight with joy and his crooked smile spread across his face, his dark hair ruffled by the wind and a long, hard ride. “Aren’t you the most beautiful sight to which a man could return?”

Emma’s tensed shoulders fell loosely, and she was across the tent in two seconds, throwing her arms around him tightly and clinging to him with a sob of relief.

Killian might have found purpose and fulfillment in the ensuing months since they had fled his family’s estate and life of privilege, but for Emma, his new vocation had led her into constant waiting and praying for his safery each time he rode out as a scout for Liam’s regiment, and fear that he might not return. Though not officially enlisted, he could do that - and had proved quite adept in both stealth and attention to the details necessary for giving his brother’s forces all the intel they could have on the land and who or want awaited them before they marched forward. It gave the two of them a place in the camp and let Killian feel truly useful, something he had rarely felt in the life of a sheltered aristocrat, he had confessed to her as they huddled together for warmth, both their heads sharing a single bedroll for a pillow, in the chill night air inside their tent.

More than anything, in that moment, she could only be grateful that he had returned whole and safe to her once again. Her insides were still quivering with the anxiety she always held that it might be word he had been discovered and shot down or captured out there alone. Liam, of course, instructed his younger brother to only collect what information he could gain from a reasonable distance - but she also knew Killian. The thrill of riding on the edge of danger, and his reckless lack of self-preservation, made him an excellent scout, but constantly had Emma’s stomach in knots until he rode back into the camp after each reconnaissance mission he undertook.

So much so that she had made up her mind not to bear it any longer. If her love, her best friend, the sole reason she left her home and family and the bucolic countryside she had always known, was going to be out risking life and limb for a cause he believed in, then she would be as well. Waiting helplessly for word or sight of his return would little by little drive her mad with imagining all the worst possibilities one after the next. There had to be some way that she could help him out there on the rough, dirt-packed trails. She was a decent horsewoman, could track and shoot to keep them fed, and she would be able to take down his observations, speeding the work and lessening the chance of being caught. Not to mention that she could mend his wounds if he were hurt, would know if something bad happened. They must be stronger together; she simply would not believe anything else.

Killian, however, unaware of the determination she had reached in her mind, was more involved in showing her just how much he had missed her and how glad he was to see her again. His once delicately soft fingertips, indicative of his family’s prestigious station, were now roughened by callouses from work and the elements, as they traced along the slope of her neck, then lightly brushed an escaped curl from her chignon back over her shoulder.  The sensation made her insides quiver in a wholly different manner than the worry which had shaken them before his arrival - one that was deliciously addictive. “Swan, truly, what enchantment do you use to grow even more lovely each time I return? It is not fair, ma Chérie. How can a man hope to  compare?”

She rolled her eyes lightly, his silver tongue having always been one of his many attributes capable of charming her, even if his actual words were overeffusive flattery to her way of thinking. He meant what he said, but he was more than a bit biased and pre-disposed to see her in her best light, through very rose-tinted lenses. Huffing out a light breath of air, she shook her head at his ridiculous compliment, even as his head dipped to lightly trail his lips along where her shoulder met her neck, making the air escaping hitch slightly with the tingles he sent chasing down her spine. Where she had opened her mouth to chide him for being such an incorrigible flirt, she instead only released a blissful sort of sigh, allowing her whole body to sway towards his never-failing warmth, drawn under his spell as inextricably as an unwitting fly might first enter the spider’s web.

“Mhmm...Killian…” she breathed shakily. “One might also question how you become a better and better kisser after each time we have been apart. Have you been obtaining practice elsewhere? Or are you the one making use of some enchantment?”

Her handsome gentleman raised his eyes then, to stare into her questioning green gaze with unblinking sincerity. There was nothing for her to do but believe him as he rasped devoutly in a voice hoarse with emotion. “I would never so much as think of another before you, mon amour. Please tell me you know that.”

Emma smiled back tremulously, her emotions making her a bit teary-eyed at the fervor he proclaimed. Leaning her forehead against his, just savoring their closeness once again she whispered, “Of course I know, Killian. Of course. You have never given me any cause to doubt your word or honor.” And it was true. This  man had lost much in the last half year. Nearly everything about his life and circumstances had changed, and yet there he stood, as gallant and true as ever. His heart was still as open as it had been when they played together in the flowering fields or splashed into the fountain of the front circle at his father’s chateau, despite the scolding it had earned her and the whipping it had undoubtably bought him. He was still that boy as well as the man now standing before her. The only man she had ever loved… or ever would.

“Good,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead before sweeping in to capture her lips with his own, “because not a day went by when I did not think of you.”

In spite of the sturdy, practical bent to her nature, Emma swooned a bit at the admission, honestly wondering what a simple maid like her had done to earn such ardent courtship. Though Killian smelled of sweat and horse and the dust of the long miles he had crossed, she couldn’t get enough of him as she returned his kiss, opening to his questing tongue and teeth and savoring the soft scratch of the stubble that had grown on his once smoothly clean-shaven face. The overwhelming masculinity her childhood friend now bore might cause her to unravel, but as the fire rose in her blood, she felt it would be a more than worthy capitulation..

Humming with pleasure, she was just truly beginning to reciprocate and to give back as good as she got when they were interrupted by the tent flap being thrown open once more. “Killian! You’re needed back in the saddle at --” his brother’s deep, commanding voice called out, speaking with such intense urgency that he had carried on in a rush before choking off, embarrassed, and averting his eyes upon realizing that his younger brother and childhood friend were caught up in a quite passionate embrace, Killian’s hand tangled in her hair, Emma’s chest heaving undeniably and eyes glazed over, and both of them pressed so close together that it was hard to tell where one ended and the other began. Killian’s other hand had even begun to conspicuously bunch up her skirts - a tell tale giveaway of what they had been about, even if he dropped it quickly and took a step back, flushed beneath the dark beginnings of a beard covering his cheeks. “Liam - bon sang! A little warning before you charge in, Brother!”

Liam shook his head in consternation, still looking determinedly off to the side rather than at either of them, his voice clipped with awkward chagrin as he continued speaking more calmly. “As I was saying, Little Brother, I realize that you have only just returned, but we have need of yours skills again - as soon as you can make ready.”

Frustration worked the muscle in her love’s jawline, not doing anything to ease the unsatisfied flame in Emma’s blood, but before he could protest or speak at all, she reached up to touch the side of Killian’s face with a tender, staying hand.  Looking over to Liam, she nodded dutifully. “I am sure we can make ready by nightfall.”

“We?!” both Jones men spluttered indignantly, eyes wide with disbelief.

Killian’s clearly affronted chivalry had him practically gaping at her in shock as he drew her closer. “What are you thinking, Emma?”

Meeting his gaze head-on, having known this would be cause for a fight, she answered in a voice steely with resolve. “I am thinking,” she put emphasis on the same word he had used to question her, “that waiting here imagining what might go wrong or how you might not return is torment I can bear no longer. I can help you, Killian. … And I am going with you.”

Tagging a few others who might enjoy (even if it is Krystal’s present): @jennjenn615 @searchingwardrobes @hollyethecurious @therooksshiningknight @darkcolinodonorgasm @resident-of-storybrooke @winterbaby89 @thisonesatellite @scientificapricot @bmbbcs4ever @aloha-4-ever @effulgentcolors @thislassishooked @angellifedeath @ilovemesomekillianjones

[devilbat]

Secret Admirer

For RiversDayOfLove, @loki-the-fox prompt: Person A is a secret admirer of Person B and reveals themselves on Valentine’s Day.

Warning: Just fluff.

Loki x reader.

A/n: Snoots are not mine they are from two famous poets.

~To my dearest Y/n~

*Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate:

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,

And summer's lease hath all too short a date:

Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,

And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;

And every fair from fair sometime declines,

By chance, or nature's changing course, untrimm'd;

But thy eternal summer shall not fade

Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st;

Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,

When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st;

So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,

So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

*sonnet 18*

~Truly yours your Secret of Amir.~

The note was attached to the most beautiful arrangement of lily and roses you ever seen. And it was addressed to you. Waiting for you on your desk, when you arrive at the Averages lab. You eyes had widened when you saw them. You could feel your face heat up. As you read the note over and over, before you started.

“All right who done and pissed you off, Y/n?” Tony asked as he walked into the lab noticing the vase of flowers. Which startled you in the process.

“For your info if it was anyone that pissed me off it would be you and I doubt this would be from you.” You held up the note. As Tony read it, haking his head.

“Yeah definitely not me. I don’t do poetry. But hey you have a stocker.” Tony teased.

“Wow, what did you do to piss of y/n this time Tony.” Bruce stated as he walked in noticing the arrangement as well.

“Hey now I have not pissed off y/n in a week.” Tony hissed.

“Well that’s a new Record for you.” Bruce’s chuckle.

“For your information our little y/n has a Secret admirer.” Tony purred. Patting you on the back. “Great job there kid. Now I have to figure out who I have to kill.” Tony walked over to his work table. Both you and Bruce rolled your eyes at the billionaire. As the three of you got to work.

Once your day was over you had planned on going out for drinks with the girls for a much needed girls night. Though you were just going to go right after you worked in the lab. But the unexpected arrangement had you taking them to your room. Not wanting them to get ruined in one day. You made your way through the compound carefully carrying the lager vase of flowers. Trying to make it to your bedroom.

“What in the nine realms are you doing with those.” You heard Loki’s voice somewhere in front of you, not being able to see the god as you view was blocked by flowers. Though you felt you heart sink a little. Deep down you had a small hope that they were from Loki. As he was a lover of book and poetry. You managed to move the flowers away from your face to look at the god.

“They’re um, were on my desk this morning.” You mumbled. “I guess I have an admirer.” You half smiled at the god.

“Well, I hope who ever it is could do better then this.” His voice sounded cold. Like he was annoyed to see you with anything from someone else. The god walked passed you, mumbled to himself.

“I thought they were pretty,” You whispered not think he could hear you. “Though, I thought they were from you.” As you watch him walk away. Finally you made it to your room a little disappointed. Deciding to change for girls night. With Nat, Wanda and Pepper. Taking a quick Once over. Before you left the room. You almost tripped over something. When you looked down you saw a box from Teuscher the up scaled chocolate place at the Rockefeller center. You always treated yourself on your birthday. But it wasn’t just a piece like you normally would, it was a whole box of all your favorite kinds when you opened it. Under the lid you found another poem.

~To my dearest Y/n~

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,

or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.

I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,

in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms

but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;

thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,

risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.

I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;

so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,

so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,

so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

*sonnet XVII*

~Truly yours your Secret of Amir.~

It made you blush as you looked up to see who may have left it. You watched as the elevator door opened, as Loki emerged. He took note at what he saw. You pink cheeks a smile on your face holing a box he recognized. Then pushed the elevator closed with him still in it. With a sigh you set the chocolates in your room. As you left to meet the girls.

This went on for a few days, gifts randomly showing up. Little things that meant a lot. The gift ranged from, slippers so you would touch the cold floor, an at home spa basket you enjoyed taking baths it helped with stress, even earring from your favorite 5th Avenue store. That was probably the most lavish gift. And each one came with a sonnet. Tony tried to help you figure out who had been leaving these gifts. But F.R.I.D.A.Y. Systems always seem to be off line or failed when he looked at the video. That lead you to late nights with the billionaire. Trying to figure out what was going on with his security systems.

Tony had left to go get more coffee, which seemed to take him forever to come back. You figured maybe Pepper stopped him. You rest you head on the table. Thinking of just taking a little power nap. When you woke up, the sunshine in through the blinds. You slept there all night again. But unlike the other time, were you woke up freezing. You noticed a deep green blanket draped around you. You took a deep breath as you did you remember the sent coming from the blanket. Pulling the blanket towards you, you recognized it as Loki cape to his armor. You smiled to yourself as you pulled it closer to you. You were so wrapped up in the fact that loki had done this you never heard Bruce or Tony walk in.

“Y/n did you sleep here?” Bruce asked. Which startled you. Pulling yourself to your feet ball up loki cape. So they didn’t question it.

“I guess I did, I was waiting for Tony!” You hissed, glaring at the man. Who currently looked very sheepish as he walked in. “He was supposed to bring coffee.” Bruce looked over at Tony.

“In my defense Pepper grabbed a hold of me and throw me in bed. For someone who is tiny she is very spry.” Bruce pinched him nose with his fingers, shaking his head. You could only roll your eyes.

“I’m going to call it a day.” You stated as you walked out of the lab not looking back. You could hear Tony yelp, and asked what was that for. “You deserves that.” Knowing Bruce smacked him upside the head.

You were on a mission to find Loki. You had noticed that ever since you’ve been receiving gifts, that Loki would avid you or make some snarky comment. Also you noticed little things. Like this as you held tightly to his cape. Or he had coffee ready for you when you woke up, when went down to the kitchen. Saying that; I figured since I’m making my tea I might as well make yours as well. Only to find out each time it was just how you liked it. Even though you still thought loki had given you the other gifts. When you walked into the Library where Loki frequent you looked around. You were rather shocked not to find him. Maybe he was sparring with his brother. But as you got to the training room no sign of either Asgardains.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y, have you’ve seen with Thor or his moronic brother?” You called up to the A.I. She knew where everyone is.

“I am sorry y/n. I have not, not since morning. And my data shows no one has left the compound.” A.I. Spoke back through one of many speakers above you.

“Uhg,” You huffed in annoyance. “Alright thank you.” You walked off. Not really paying attention to the apology the A.I. Stated. You though maybe he was in his room. But no such luck. Giving up you walking over to your room. Before opening your door you heard muffled sounds like someone or somebody’s having a scuffle in your room. You opened it slowly. But what you saw was not what you expected. Thor had Loki chained to a chair and was fighting his raven hairs brother with what looked to be duct tape. You stood there watching. The brothers had yet noticed you.

“Why is this necessary.” Loki hissed dodging his head at his brother attempt to stick the tape over his mouth. “You know I’ll turn you into a toad again.”

“I told you that if your not going to, someone need to push you in to telling lady y/n.” Thor voice boomed with happiness with his cleaver plan.

“Tell lady y/n what?” You cooed behind the brothers. Both stoping to look over to you standing in the room.

“Ah lady y/n, happy day of love. I have brought you a gift.” Thor beamed with glee in his eyes.

“Surprise.” Loki stated annoyed, as this felt way to familiar to him. Thor patted his brother on his back. As he walked towards you.

“He is all yours lady y/n, do as you please.” Thor smiled proudly. As he left the room shutting the door. Leaving you and the God of mischief alone.

“You know I could explain this.” Loki chuckled nervously.

“Oh, I think I figured it out.” You bit your lip as you walked over the the god. “You’re brother sent the gifts to make you jealous, and when that didn’t work he did this.” You laughed as you stood in front of him.

“Yes. That sounds about right.” Loki smile his charming smile the one that could send your panties to space taking out a Klingon war ship. “Would you mind untying me love?”

“You know I think I like you like this.” You smirked as you sat down on Loki leg facing him. Making the god raise his eyebrow. “I’ll untie you if you can tell me what Thor wants you to tell me.” You whispered into his ear. You felt Loki tense up. Moving your head away from his ear. “I’m listening.” Your face looked unamused. Loki squirmed around in the chair.

“Fine.” He huffed giving in. “I have liked your for some time now darling, and would like to court you. And yes I was rather jealous that someone else may have had taken a like to you.” You smiled at him. “So may I have the honor to take you out tonight as is it your Midgard festival of love. Though I’m not sure why you celebrate love on a day that was a massacre.”

“Oh loki, shut up.” He was about to say something when your lips crashed onto his.

“I take that as a yes.” He mumbled against your lips.

“That’s a yes to massacre you later.” You smirked kissing him one last time before getting off his lap.

“Massacre me as in showing me your undying love right?” Loki asked as you started to walk away from him. “Y/n!” He yelled. Struggling against his binds. As you shut the door to the bedroom.

Permanent tags: @kitkatkl @lokilvrr @instantnoodlese @drakesfiance @meyoko10 @jackheart180 @miraclesoflove @wolfcore227 @mr-hiddlestons-pet @madleiine @teageowen

Tom/Loki Tag’s: @theoneanna @graveyard-groupie @silverquartx @moonfaery @kcd15 @moonlightprime @youveseen--thebutcher @shockwavee @sabine-leo @screw-real-life-i-pick-fandoms @vethrvolnir

[wolfxdayz]

So random ass short story I wrote about hemlock grove that I may or may not ever finish

[[MORE]]

Heart Heart Head

------

"Just do it man! It's over !" The upir gasped his body broken and unresponsive as he stared at the animal that used to be his friend/something more. "My body is broken and look at you! You're gonna live out the rest of your days as goddamn animal !"

The beast in question flinched as if the words physically hurt, and whined ears laid back as the large white wolf trembled slightly, even now instincts and heart fighting against each other . With one last weak growl the animal walked up to the upir and Quickly lunged for the throat snapping the neck for an instant kill, a small mercy that the last human part of

Peter could give to his suffering friend, before Digging into the tall boy's chest and pulling out the heart walking away feeling as if his own heart had been pulled out as well, tears in the wolfs eyes before he sunk into the oblivion of insanity .

Lynda woke up with a gasp, breathing heavily and feeling tears fall down her face as she clutched her Chest small sobs leaving her shaking frame.

Something was wrong something had happened to her baby boy, her good little boy .. Her good little man. She could feel it in the same way she felt the crack go through her entire body, when the doctor snapped Peter's collar bone in half. in order to help the newborn get unstuck from her birth canal.

She rushed to the bathroom and lurched over the toilet giving up the remains of dinner as she curled into a ball.

Zenada one of Peter's great Aunts placed a hand on her shoulder, "O simt de asemenea, acest lucru este ceva nu mama vrea să treacă prin , voi spune o rugăciune pentru sufletul său înainte de a pleca"

(i feel it too, this is something no mother wants to go through, I will say a prayer for his soul before you leave. )

The old woman gave Lynda a towel to wash her face and left yelling for husband to wake his lazy ass up and find her prayer book and light the candles and prepare a small offering for a safe journey.

The morning sun was just breaking over the Carpathian Mountains, when the small family sat in a circle candles surrounding a picture of a younger Peter around Four or Five holding a slightly disgruntled Black Cat and grinning delightedly up at the family. His hair wasn't as long but it did flop around like a mop.

Lynda felt a lump in her throat as she reached for the picture but stopped they were not allowed to touch the dead an old tradition to stop the spread of the plague.

Zenda and her Husband Alek, sat next to the grieving mother.

Zenda placed a hand on her shoulder, "Nicolai will meet him in the meadows don't worry.." She squeezed her shoulder and brought out the small plate of food an offering for the spirit to help him on his journey.

Alek took a breath before starting the prayer, Lynda closed her eyes and tried not to sob as much during the service.

It was a while after standing outside in their small yard that they burned all the letters Peter ever sent his mother, so his spirit wouldn't have any reason to linger behind.

When the smoke cleared and all that was left was ashes Zenda came up to the grieving mother, "..you know what you must do.. His soul won't rest Until it is done.. Think of it as letting him sleep.." She placed a hand on Lynda's shoulder. ".. The Rumancek line was destined for tragedy since the beginning when vârcolac fell in love with Upir. You know Mikal did not mean to hurt that cold girl child Olivia .. Upir breed she was.

He came back to her after selling the items and getting money for them both but by then she was gone and blood was in water.. They were never meant to be.." She gave her shoulder a squeeze, she knew what it meant to marry a Rumancek, many tribes have heard the story and seen the way the Vargulf's ran amok in the family line, Nicolai her husbands poor younger brother .. The pain and destruction he caused near the end of his days.

Perhaps this was a good thing the Rumancek's kept the Vargulf from spreading to other tribe's moon children, by sadly setting the example of what not to do.

Never change on wrong moon,

Never fall in love with Upir, they can't love anyway.

Never marry a Rumancek they will eat you whole .

A few weeks later Lynda found herself with some new forged documents and passport on a plane heading back to the states, to hemlock grove.

She landed at Harrisburg international and got through customs with little hassle her documents making their way through security, she then got herself a little rental car and small motel to stay the night, she felt strangely numb, as if everything was a dream. She was back in the states , she was here to see her son one last time before-.

She stood up and looked at herself in the mirror, she still looked normal not like a mother who just lost everything, who was here to put her son to sleep.

She tried to get herself to cry to feel something but it was like there was a ice cold wall around her, it was both a blessing by God and a curse from her heritage.

She was grateful for the cold numbness that surrounded her, protected her from the reality of the situation helped her eat like normal and tip the friendly waitress at the all night diner near her motel.

She was sipping some tea and staring off when suddenly she caught site of her baby boy her little Peter, he was 6 years old and charming some of her old coworkers into getting him some extra ice cream secretly of course.

They just couldn't resist his little blue-green eyes, those were the same eyes that begged Lynda to let them keep a cat even though they spent most of their time on the road, the same eyes that held such an intense hint of sadness and guilt whenever he asked if he was the reason he didn't have a daddy like other boys.

Those same eyes that lit up whenever she brought him a sketchbook for his birthday and always held a gentle warmth for the few special people in his life.

Lynda blinked and suddenly it was all gone she was sitting in a nearly empty diner holding on to a tea cup for dear life, the ice wall had its first small crack.

She got up and left putting her jacket back on and her hands touched the pearl necklace briefly remembering their first day in hemlock grove and how her son had gotten her a moving in present with his ever so clever five finger discount.

Another tiny crack appeared in her wall.

She walked back to her motel room and just crawled into bed letting the numbness take her to sleep. She was in California again Peter was 9, and was walking in front of her. they were in the redwood forest the trees were as tall as skyscrapers and she felt so small and unimportant underneath them, and yet her son did not, he felt at home here, as he told her all about the things he found on his full moon run here and all the animals he either chased off or timidly befriended.

"...Would you ever like to stay here Peter?." She asked wondering if her son ever wanted to just settle and maybe be normal well as normal as a young werewolf could be.

Peter turned towards her and tilted his head to the side, ".. Stay? Like forever?" He asked,

".. Perhaps " she smiled, ". We could get a house maybe an apartment more cats and you can keep going to school here"

Peter was quiet for a moment before shaking his head and scrunching up his face "..no I'd miss our car too much.. I like the road I like driving with you .." He then ran to her and hugged her tightly. "..its just me and you mama! forever!" He suddenly turned as he saw something that caught his eye, a bright yellow bird flew by, he was chasing it and Lynda suddenly found herself unable to move. She could only watch as a large white .. Beast that was the only thing to describe the wolf like creature a beast a Vargulf jumped out and ate her little boy whole right in front of her-

Lynda woke up with a shuddering gasp holding her chest and feeling tears prick at her eyes but they didn't fall they too were kept behind the ice wall the closed around her as she sat there in bed. She ran her hands through her hair and gently touched the necklace. ".. You're in my heart.. In my head .." She mumbled to herself an old Lullaby from when Peter was a baby, barely a month old and colicky.

Soon she was in her rental car passing by the welcome to Hemlock Grove sign, her ice wall still protecting her as she drove into the main part of town and stopped by destiny's place, where was her niece? Wasn't she getting married? Why did she never write back?

She parked not to far off and was soon walking down some familiar streets she walked up the stairs to destiny's flat and knocked on the door, perhaps her niece could help with this numbness that seemed to be her very being.

She waited as she heard someone come near the door and was surprised to see a young dark skinned male with long dreadlocks answer the door.

".. can I help you?" The man asked confused as to why there was an older woman in his doorway.

". ... .... uh n-no I'm sorry I just thought .. um my niece used to live here .. she was the former tenet do you know if she moved?" Lynda asked trying to keep the panic out of her voice.

".. uh no mam sorry apparently there was some sort of accident and the lady went missing got this place for cheap cause of it .." he shrugged .

".. oh.. ok.. thank you so much .." she quickly turned and left walking briskly out of the apartment complex.

Destiny wasn't missing she could feel it .. she was.- . She didn't want to think about it .

Lynda went back to her Rental car and drove around for a bit, heading up to the old trailer when something ran across the road, a large white dog? No that wasn't a dog, her heart lept in to her throat as she watched the wolf run away from a nearby flower shop a small bundle of mix matched flowers in its maw as the owner screamed at him and threw some rocks already dialing animal control.

The wolf ran in front of her car and down the road, Lynda quickly followed praying that it was just a random wolf and not her son.

She followed it for sometime and was surprised to see it slip into hemlock grove's cemetery.

She parked her car on the side of the road and got out opening the gate and trying to find him again.

She was walking around the rows of

[untamedvargulf]

Heart Heart Head

So when season 3 happened I wrote this little Fic about Lynda .. and well it’s not finished but here it is might finish it later !!

season 3 spoilers under read more !

[[MORE]]

Heart Heart Head

------

"Just do it man! It's over !" The upir gasped his body broken and unresponsive as he stared at the animal that used to be his friend/something more. "My body is broken and look at you! You're gonna live out the rest of your days as goddamn animal !"

The beast in question flinched as if the words physically hurt, and whined ears laid back as the large white wolf trembled slightly, even now instincts and heart fighting against each other . With one last weak growl the animal walked up to the upir and Quickly lunged for the throat snapping the neck for an instant kill, a small mercy that the last human part of

Peter could give to his suffering friend, before Digging into the tall boy's chest and pulling out the heart walking away feeling as if his own heart had been pulled out as well, tears in the wolfs eyes before he sunk into the oblivion of insanity .

Lynda woke up with a gasp, breathing heavily and feeling tears fall down her face as she clutched her Chest small sobs leaving her shaking frame.

Something was wrong something had happened to her baby boy, her good little boy .. Her good little man. She could feel it in the same way she felt the crack go through her entire body, when the doctor snapped Peter's collar bone in half. in order to help the newborn get unstuck from her birth canal.

She rushed to the bathroom and lurched over the toilet giving up the remains of dinner as she curled into a ball.

Zenada one of Peter's great Aunts placed a hand on her shoulder, "O simt de asemenea, acest lucru este ceva nu mama vrea să treacă prin , voi spune o rugăciune pentru sufletul său înainte de a pleca"

(i feel it too, this is something no mother wants to go through, I will say a prayer for his soul before you leave. )

The old woman gave Lynda a towel to wash her face and left yelling for husband to wake his lazy ass up and find her prayer book and light the candles and prepare a small offering for a safe journey.

The morning sun was just breaking over the Carpathian Mountains, when the small family sat in a circle candles surrounding a picture of a younger Peter around Four or Five holding a slightly disgruntled Black Cat and grinning delightedly up at the family. His hair wasn't as long but it did flop around like a mop.

Lynda felt a lump in her throat as she reached for the picture but stopped they were not allowed to touch the dead an old tradition to stop the spread of the plague.

Zenda and her Husband Alek, sat next to the grieving mother.

Zenda placed a hand on her shoulder, "Nicolai will meet him in the meadows don't worry.." She squeezed her shoulder and brought out the small plate of food an offering for the spirit to help him on his journey.

Alek took a breath before starting the prayer, Lynda closed her eyes and tried not to sob as much during the service.

It was a while after standing outside in their small yard that they burned all the letters Peter ever sent his mother, so his spirit wouldn't have any reason to linger behind.

When the smoke cleared and all that was left was ashes Zenda came up to the grieving mother, "..you know what you must do.. His soul won't rest Until it is done.. Think of it as letting him sleep.." She placed a hand on Lynda's shoulder. ".. The Rumancek line was destined for tragedy since the beginning when vârcolac fell in love with Upir. You know Mikal did not mean to hurt that cold girl child Olivia .. Upir breed she was.

He came back to her after selling the items and getting money for them both but by then she was gone and blood was in water.. They were never meant to be.." She gave her shoulder a squeeze, she knew what it meant to marry a Rumancek, many tribes have heard the story and seen the way the Vargulf's ran amok in the family line, Nicolai her husbands poor younger brother .. The pain and destruction he caused near the end of his days.

Perhaps this was a good thing the Rumancek's kept the Vargulf from spreading to other tribe's moon children, by sadly setting the example of what not to do.

Never change on wrong moon,

Never fall in love with Upir, they can't love anyway.

Never marry a Rumancek they will eat you whole .

A few weeks later Lynda found herself with some new forged documents and passport on a plane heading back to the states, to hemlock grove.

She landed at Harrisburg international and got through customs with little hassle her documents making their way through security, she then got herself a little rental car and small motel to stay the night, she felt strangely numb, as if everything was a dream. She was back in the states , she was here to see her son one last time before-.

She stood up and looked at herself in the mirror, she still looked normal not like a mother who just lost everything, who was here to put her son to sleep.

She tried to get herself to cry to feel something but it was like there was a ice cold wall around her, it was both a blessing by God and a curse from her heritage.

She was grateful for the cold numbness that surrounded her, protected her from the reality of the situation helped her eat like normal and tip the friendly waitress at the all night diner near her motel.

She was sipping some tea and staring off when suddenly she caught site of her baby boy her little Peter, he was 6 years old and charming some of her old coworkers into getting him some extra ice cream secretly of course.

They just couldn't resist his little blue-green eyes, those were the same eyes that begged Lynda to let them keep a cat even though they spent most of their time on the road, the same eyes that held such an intense hint of sadness and guilt whenever he asked if he was the reason he didn't have a daddy like other boys.

Those same eyes that lit up whenever she brought him a sketchbook for his birthday and always held a gentle warmth for the few special people in his life.

Lynda blinked and suddenly it was all gone she was sitting in a nearly empty diner holding on to a tea cup for dear life, the ice wall had its first small crack.

She got up and left putting her jacket back on and her hands touched the pearl necklace briefly remembering their first day in hemlock grove and how her son had gotten her a moving in present with his ever so clever five finger discount.

Another tiny crack appeared in her wall.

She walked back to her motel room and just crawled into bed letting the numbness take her to sleep. She was in California again Peter was 9, and was walking in front of her. they were in the redwood forest the trees were as tall as skyscrapers and she felt so small and unimportant underneath them, and yet her son did not, he felt at home here, as he told her all about the things he found on his full moon run here and all the animals he either chased off or timidly befriended.

"...Would you ever like to stay here Peter?." She asked wondering if her son ever wanted to just settle and maybe be normal well as normal as a young werewolf could be.

Peter turned towards her and tilted his head to the side, ".. Stay? Like forever?" He asked,

".. Perhaps " she smiled, ". We could get a house maybe an apartment more cats and you can keep going to school here"

Peter was quiet for a moment before shaking his head and scrunching up his face "..no I'd miss our car too much.. I like the road I like driving with you .." He then ran to her and hugged her tightly. "..its just me and you mama! forever!" He suddenly turned as he saw something that caught his eye, a bright yellow bird flew by, he was chasing it and Lynda suddenly found herself unable to move. She could only watch as a large white .. Beast that was the only thing to describe the wolf like creature a beast a Vargulf jumped out and ate her little boy whole right in front of her-

Lynda woke up with a shuddering gasp holding her chest and feeling tears prick at her eyes but they didn't fall they too were kept behind the ice wall the closed around her as she sat there in bed. She ran her hands through her hair and gently touched the necklace. ".. You're in my heart.. In my head .." She mumbled to herself an old Lullaby from when Peter was a baby, barely a month old and colicky.

Soon she was in her rental car passing by the welcome to Hemlock Grove sign, her ice wall still protecting her as she drove into the main part of town and stopped by destiny's place, where was her niece? Wasn't she getting married? Why did she never write back?

She parked not to far off and was soon walking down some familiar streets she walked up the stairs to destiny's flat and knocked on the door, perhaps her niece could help with this numbness that seemed to be her very being.

She waited as she heard someone come near the door and was surprised to see a young dark skinned male with long dreadlocks answer the door.

".. can I help you?" The man asked confused as to why there was an older woman in his doorway.

". ... .... uh n-no I'm sorry I just thought .. um my niece used to live here .. she was the former tenet do you know if she moved?" Lynda asked trying to keep the panic out of her voice.

".. uh no mam sorry apparently there was some sort of accident and the lady went missing got this place for cheap cause of it .." he shrugged .

".. oh.. ok.. thank you so much .." she quickly turned and left walking briskly out of the apartment complex.

Destiny wasn't missing she could feel it .. she was.- . She didn't want to think about it .

Lynda went back to her Rental car and drove around for a bit, heading up to the old trailer when something ran across the road, a large white dog? No that wasn't a dog, her heart lept in to her throat as she watched the wolf run away from a nearby flower shop a small bundle of mix matched flowers in its maw as the owner screamed at him and threw some rocks already dialing animal control.

The wolf ran in front of her car and down the road, Lynda quickly followed praying that it was just a random wolf and not her son.

She followed it for sometime and was surprised to see it slip into hemlock grove's cemetery.

She parked her car on the side of the road and got out opening the gate and trying to find him again.

[randomminer]

Hogwarts mystery oc prompts (drawing or writing)

1) Their expression at the sorting hat?

- Much like her Aunt Minerva, Svari's sorting took a really long time. So I just imagine her sitting there, getting bored, kicking her feet, and waiting for the voice in her head to tell her where to go.

2) What’s their wand look like

Pear Wood

This golden-toned wood produces wands of splendid magical powers, which give of their best in the hands of the warm-hearted, the generous and the wise. Possessors of pear wands are, in my experience, usually popular and well-respected. I do not know of a single instance where a pear wand has been discovered in the possession of a Dark witch or wizard. Pear wands are among the most resilient, and I have often observed that they may still present a remarkable appearance of newness, even after many years of hard use.

Phoenix Feather

This is the rarest core type. Phoenix feathers are capable of the greatest range of magic, though they may take longer than either unicorn or dragon cores to reveal this. They show the most initiative, sometimes acting of their own accord, a quality that many witches and wizards dislike. Phoenix feather wands are always the pickiest when it comes to potential owners, for the creature from which they are taken is one of the most independent and detached in the world. These wands are the hardest to tame and to personalise, and their allegiance is usually hard won.

3) What’s it look like when they are relaxed in the Hogwarts express

- Never needed to ride the Hogwarts Express. Her aunt had a cottage in the village of Hogsmead. During the school year, she lived in the castle, same as the other students. But for the summer, she lived with her aunt. So every year, when the other students would come stumbling off the train, tired and sore from the ride, Svari would be standing there, fresh faced and well rested.

4) The look of their quil, notebooks, their notes

- I'd assume most quills and notebooks look the same for all the students. But Svari's notes are all over the place. She adds tips and tricks in margins, has doodles everywhere, and very rarely are her papers uncrinkled in some way.

5) What’s their favourite spot on campus

- During the warmer days, Svari and her friends sit out by Hagrid's back steps. Unlike the library or common rooms, it's outside and the students can laugh and joke while they study. And in the evenings, before curfew, Svari likes to quietly sit there and listen to crickets and the breeze blowing through the trees. It also helps that Hagrid always has unusual creatures and "snacks" around.

6) Imagine their bed in the dorm room

- The castle elves absolutely hate making Svari's bed in the morning. She is a bit of a rough sleeper and the bedding tends to be balled up, kicked off, or stained from ink spills. She also tends to keep her bed curtains shut, as she likes small cozy places.

7) How does their bedroom look back at home

-While Svari is a clean person, she is not neat and tidy. She is also a bit of a hoarder. Books on obscure subjects, shiny rocks, dried flowers, pretty beads, muggle gadgets. There is not a surface in her room that does not have a large mound of odds and ends strewn across it. While it may seem a mess to most other people, Svari is always able to locate what she is looking for and becomes upset if people move her items around. Eleanor, her grandmother-like figure, has used the term "organized chaos" to describe Svari's collections.

8) Out of uniform what do they wear

Svari likes used clothes and hand-me-downs. Worn jeans, stretched sweaters, shoes that have survived the walking apocalypse and are still held together strong. Most everything she wears has had a previous owner, except for her leather jacket. Her aunt had Ministry business to take care of in London and Svari poked around a nearby shop while she waited. Upon seeing the jacket, she fell in love and had to have it. It took several months of saving up, but eventually she was able to buy the jacket herself and wears it any opportunity she has. McGonagall finds amusement in her taste, as her youngest brother, Svari's father, tended to wear similar clothing and also had a leather jacket of his own.

In uniform or out, Svari always wears her mother's braided leather bracelet and the fang necklace her Uncle Elphinstone Urquart made for her before his death. He had crafted it in an attempt at finding a hobby in jewelry making, but ended up not liking the pass time as much as he had thought he would. He gave his only completed project to his niece, telling her jokingly it would bring her luck. Svari doesn't feel that either bring her luck or fortune or anything like that, more that they are small physical pieces of the people she has loved and lost. So in a way they can be with her even when gone.

9) Do they have a personal broom, if so what’s it look like

- I like to think that McGonagall kept her old brooms from her Quidditch years. When Svari showed an interest in playing, her aunt dusted off an old favorite and let her practice with it. After Svari joined the Ravenclaw team as a beater, McGonagall gave the broom to her to keep.

10) How’s their bag/backpack/purse/sactle look like

- Much like her room, Svari's bag is full of odds and ends that she finds. Knowing Svari loved collecting, gathering, and storing; Eleanor had put an expanding charm on it and sent it as a birthday gift. The bag itself is fairly small, but can hold a small closet's worth of items.

11) What would their reflection show in the mirror of erisea

- More than anything, Svari wishes she could be all human. She doesn't feel shame for being part peri, but it has given her life challenges. Besides keeping her physical differences hidden (pointed ears covered by her hair/wings tucked under clothing), Svari has also had to keep her mental health in check. Transformation from her emotions getting out of control could mean danger for the people she cares about and a life sentence of being in a cage. If not death.

When Svari looks in the mirror, she sees herself as whole. No odd features, no dangerous transformations, no hiding.

12) What’s their favourite creature

- Magical or not, Svari finds it hard to resist most animals

13) Do they have a favourite spell

- Expeliarmus. Get the wand away from the wizard, fists can do the talking.

14) Favourite class

- Defense Against The Dark Arts

15) Do they have a favourite potion

- While it doesn't have anything to do with her, Svari is so happy for the existence of the Wolf's Bane potion. Much like her, werewolves are considered half human and dangerous. Knowing there is a way for them to have some normalcy in there lives makes Svari so thankful.

16) What happens when they get their favourite snack (also what’s that snack)

- Svari loves pears. You give her a pear, that thing is gone in a matter of seconds.

17) Their pateonus

- Marsh wren

18) What would a bogort turn into for them

- Probably her friends and family bleeding and injured and looking at her in fear. As if she had just returned to her "human" form after transforming out of anger and realizing she had hurt the people most dear to her.

19) Favourite professor?

- Her Aunt Minerva McGonagall

20) Their owl/pet

- Svari never had a pet herself, but while she lived at Hogsmead and in the castle, she took care of Fang and Hagrid's other "pets" while he was gone.