#pitch perfect tickle fic

[angelfic]

— CALM AFTER THE STORM

pairing: remus lupin x reader

summary: the 4 times you hate each other, and the one time you don’t. alternatively, remus lupin is a pain in your arse and yours alone.

warnings: enemies to lovers, swearing, kissing, mention of blood and wounds, some bad writing as always which is unedited

author’s note: just a little e2l fic for my own indulgence as its my fave trope and its criminal how i barely have any e2l fics… also haven’t written anything in ages soooo enjoy!

when he just has to be controversial

The sun was beaming, colourful rays reflecting over your book through the stained-glass windows of the Gryffindor common room as you lounged on the sofa with your head in Lily’s lap. You were barely paying attention to the chatter of your friends around you, choosing to focus on your copy of ‘The Catcher in the Rye’ and Marlene’s soft guitar playing. The lazy afternoon is a welcome break from the increasingly stressful N.E.W.T lessons that have had you all so exhausted, you’re not sure if Peter is asleep or dead from his curled-up position on the rug.

You don’t even realise someone is saying your name until Marlene tickles the sole of your socked foot with her guitar pick, making you yelp and draw your legs in from where they were previously tucked in between Marlene and her guitar.

“What was that for?” you grumble, nudging her arm with your foot.

Marlene smirks, nodding over to James. “He told me to get your attention. Didn’t specify how.”

You roll your eyes and turn on your side to face the boy in question, his grin unfaltering as he multitasks polishing the handle of his broomstick and talking to you. “Not my fault you’re dead to the world when you’re reading,” he says, matter-of-fact, continuing when you raise your eyebrows in impatience. “I was just wondering how you could look so interested in that book. Remus said he’d do my homework for a month if I finished it the other day and I couldn’t get past five arse-numbingly dull pages.”

You scoff, adjusting your position again to face Remus as well. “And why was Remus betting you to read my book, exactly?”

“It was my copy,” Remus replies, scribbling away on his parchment, cross legged on his chair, to undoubtedly finish the Potions essay that Slughorn had set yesterday. You’re transfixed on the way his hand is moving across the page for a second, unable to fathom how someone can have such messy handwriting. You aren’t surprised in the slightest that the next words coming out of his mouth are ones you disagree with. “I wanted to see how long he lasted reading the slowest-paced book in the world.”

You abruptly sit up at this, shutting your book and forgetting plans of relaxation.

“Hey, watch it!” Lily exclaims, lifting the bottle of black polish she’s using to paint Sirius’ nails from its balanced position on her thigh to avoid you spilling it all over her white top. “If you’re about to argue, please refrain from throwing things until after I’ve done the second coat of nail polish.”

You pointedly ignore this and narrow your eyes at Remus who, infuriatingly, still hasn’t lifted his head from his essay. “I’m surprised you found it hard to read such a slow book. Thought that’d be perfect for you.”

“Look what you’ve started, Prongs,” Sirius sighs, examining his nails.

Seeing the corners of Remus’ lips pull up into a slight smile at your comment just spurs you on in defence of the book you were previously enjoying. “Besides, it’s about a real-life teenager with real-life struggles, not The Hobbit on his latest adventure.”

“Who’s Hobbit?” James mumbles, scratching his head in confusion as Marlene just shrugs, equally oblivious.

“It’s overrated,” Remus insists, finally setting down his quill to look at you. The amused expression still hasn’t left his face and you make a noise halfway between a scoff and a high-pitched squeal of indignance. “Even James agrees.”

“Oh, and James’ opinion on literature is the standard now?” You raise a brow, tutting when James starts to protest. “The only book James has finished in the last six years was Quidditch Through the Ages.”

The way James slowly slides the aforementioned book under one of the sofa cushions doesn’t go unnoticed by anyone. Sirius starts snickering, much to Lily’s annoyance as she tries to control his hand. “She got you there, in fairness, mate.”

Sirius’ chortling seems to stir Peter from his sleep and he opens one eye to peer at you. Seeming to catch sight of your irritated expression, he frowns. “Are these two arguing like an old married couple again?”

“Merlin help us if these two ever decide to get married,” Marlene utters under her breath, bent over her guitar and avoiding the weight of your glare.

“Yeah, he wishes,” you grumble, shuffling around on the sofa to get back into a comfortable position with your book. Remus’ smile has only widened in response and he seems to enjoy your discomfort as you overcompensate for showing your annoyance by wriggling about.

“I dream about it every night,” Remus replies, dryly and Peter giggles below you before turning over to sleep again.  

You overcompensate a little too much by moving around, because Lily huffs from beside you and starts scrambling around for a tissue. “What did I say about the second coat?”

“I didn’t throw anything this time!”

2. when he won’t let you give someone a black eye

Defence Against the Dark Arts is your favourite N.E.W.T subject for a lot of reasons. You enjoy the lesson content, it’ll be useful in future years, and it’s the one lesson you share with every single one of your friends.

You’ve gotten used to James and Sirius messing around while Professor Marigold recites fact after fact about spells and creatures and wizards of dark nature. Its like soothing background noise to you and your classmates who all concentrate in silence most of the time.

Which is why your quill stops on your page and leaves a growing ink blot when you hear snickering and whispers from the other side of the classroom rather than from in front of you where the marauders sit in a line.

The scoffs of disgust coming from Snape and Mulciber are loud enough to attract the attention of the rest of the students and even the teacher, who eventually sets down her piece of chalk in the middle of talking about Wolfsbane potion with an impatient sigh.

“Is there some sort of pressing issue that can’t wait until after class to discuss, boys?” Professor Marigold asks with a tone of ire that would impress Professor McGonagall. “Even Black and Potter have decided to give it a rest today.”

She’s not wrong, you think, noting how they’ve been less disruptive than usual for this lesson, probably tired out from setting each other’s robes on fire in Charms the hour before.

“The pressing issue is werewolves,” Snape mutters quietly, as though he doesn’t want to make a big issue but can’t stop himself from speaking up. “We should be learning more about how to kill them and less about the price of potion ingredients.”

Lily gasps from beside you and Sirius and James tense up at his words. Remus doesn’t lift his head, but you absently notice how his grip tightens around his quill when Peter nervously turns to him. Peter isn’t one for conflict and he’s always been nervous around this particular group of Slytherins, so you’re not surprised he’s anxious.

“Werewolves are still people, you can’t just go around killing them!” you find your mouth moving on its own, before your brain can catch up. When Snape turns to direct his scowl at you, its matched by your own as well as Lily’s disappointed frown. “They didn’t ask to be werewolves, they physically can’t help it! How would you feel if people wanted to kill you for not being able to control being such an arse.”

“Miss Y/L/N,” Professor Marigold warns, setting her stern eyes on you. You’re not one for disrupting lessons or getting into trouble, so when Remus turns around to look at you with a raised eyebrow, your cheeks start to warm and you stubbornly don’t look his way again.

Snape ignores her to continue glaring at you. “I don’t have the capacity to kill people in a feral rage now, do I?” His gaze flits from you to Lily and Marlene and then lingers on the boys. “Of course, you’re defending werewolves. It’s no surprise considering who you choose to associate yourself with.”

“Mr Snape.”

“You have no need to fly into a feral rage to kill people,” you reply, voice steadily rising in volume. Sirius and James turn their heads back and forth like they’re watching a tennis match and you know the only reason they haven’t piped up to agree with you is because they’re too entertained watching the way you’re about to jump out of your seat to pounce on Snape. “All you need to do is show someone your face for them to die of fright–”

“ENOUGH!” Professor Marigold’s booming voice cuts through the laughter of everyone on the Gryffindor side of the classroom and when you turn to look at her, you see even Remus’ shoulders are shaking with silent laughter. You’re not sure why this pleases you, but it doesn’t last long enough for you to figure it out before Marigold waves her wand in the direction of the door and sends it flying open. “Both of you will wait for me outside the classroom until the lesson has finished so I can discuss your appalling behaviour.”

You gape at her for a second, before relenting and grabbing your bag, not wanting to argue with her authority. Your friends have different ideas.

“That’s not fair!” Marlene exclaims, standing up in protest. “She didn’t even do anything wrong.”

“Yeah,” James agrees, also standing up. “Snape’s the one who was being an annoying pri–”

“Sit down, everyone,” Marigold cuts him off, pursing her lips. “Everyone except Mr Snape and Miss Y/L/N. Do not even think about speaking Mr Black, or I won’t hesitate to suspend your and Mr Potter’s Quidditch privileges until further notice.”

Sirius shuts his mouth after a nudge from James and you shoot your friends a grateful smile before making your way out of the classroom, followed closely by Snape.

The door shuts behind him and you don’t bother sparing him a glance before dumping your bag on the ground and leaning against a wall to focus your gaze on a suit of armour for the next five minutes. You’re about half a minute in when you notice that one of the hands are slightly wonky and the classroom door suddenly opens.

Remus, of all people, enters the hallway to join the two of you and quickly shuts the door.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, furrowing your brows and getting up from against the wall.

“Yeah, what are you doing here?” Snape sneers at him, and you give him a scathing look before turning to Remus for an answer.

Remus pointedly ignores him to stand next to you against the brick wall. “I just pointed out to Professor Marigold that you both have your wands and she may not have two students left out here by the end of the lesson.”

“I can defend myself,” you snort, folding your arms. You aren’t sure if you’re annoyed that Remus is insinuating otherwise, or if you’re touched that he doesn’t want you to be hexed into oblivion by Snape. “Especially from him.”

“Oh, I know,” Remus raises both hands in surrender as his tone becomes grave. “It’s not you I’m worried about, trouble.”

“Ha ha,” you deadpan, rolling your eyes at the nickname. He started it around a year ago when you got your first ever detention for helping Sirius and James Charm the Slytherin chairs to throw them off every time someone sat. Your friends had kept quiet about your involvement, but Peeves had spotted you, the nosy bastard. The nickname stemmed from the fact it was the first time you had ever gotten into trouble and it never failed to irritate you. “You better be careful I don’t hex you.”

“I wouldn’t dream of annoying you,” he says, but the serious tone of voice is ruined by the way his lips are twitching in an attempt not to laugh at you. “After what happened when I said I didn’t like that one Jane Austen book? Forget it.”

“Hey, you insulted one of my favourite characters,” you point out, resting a hand on your hip. “What did Emma ever do to you? You had that hex coming.”

“I had pink hair for a week,” Remus narrows his eyes at you, but you can tell he isn’t really angry. Although he refuses to admit it, you know for a fact he didn’t hate the pink hair considering how good he looked with it. An annoying indiscretion on your part. Remus looks behind you for a split second before leaning in a little to whisper. “I won’t get in the way if you want to turn Snape’s hair pink, though. Preferably a very bright shade of flaming, hot pink.”

At risk of your own cheeks flaming up from how close he is – really, what’s the need? – you shake your head let your hair fall into your face. Almost having forgotten Snape is also there, you start when he scoffs (for what you think is the millionth time this afternoon) and you sigh before facing him begrudgingly. “What now?”

“Couldn’t handle the content of today’s lesson?” he asks, tiling his head. You’re about to ask him what the hell he’s talking about before you realise, he isn’t actually talking to you, but to the boy behind you.

“Uh…” you trail off, not sure how to respond. All three of you currently standing in the corridor know that Remus is smart enough to tackle any type of content, especially something as memorable and interesting as werewolves.

Remus’ amused demeanour has been wiped away and you can’t determine his exact expression, but his voice is cold when he talks to you. “Just ignore him.”

“You and your group of friends can’t help themselves when it comes to defending strays and all sorts,” Snape continues, much to your confusion. “It’s not enough that you’re a group full of blood-traitors and mudbloods…”

Remus tenses up behind you and you find yourself frozen for a second.

The next thing you know, you’re lunging at the greasy-haired Slytherin with every intention of hurting his face with your fists, wand long forgotten. Your fingers barely brush his robes, however, when you feel yourself being hauled back by strong arms that wrap around your middle.

“Let go!” you snarl, enjoying the way Snape has backed away, eyes wide and worried. “Did you hear what he said? Remus, let me go.”

He doesn’t relent, still holding onto you when he leans down to speak in your ear. “You’ve already gotten into trouble. You’ll get into a whole lot more when everyone walks out to see Snape with a black eye and you with bruised knuckles.”

“Worth it,” you grit out, still pulling away from his grip and throwing daggers with your eyes at Snape. After a few more seconds of pointless struggling, you relax very slightly just to turn in his arms so you can direct your next words to him more pointedly. “Not only is he a slimy, blood-supremacist twat, but he also wants to kill a poor bunch of werewolves. We should be throwing him into the bloody Black Lake!”

“I know, I-” Remus is cut off when the door opens and students start flooding into the corridor to provide a barrier between you and Snape, indicating the end of the lesson. Remus finally lets you go when he realises you’re in direct view of Professor Marigold who stands behind her desk, waiting for you. “I had no idea you were such an advocate for werewolves.”

It’s the last thing you expected him to say and you immediately look up at him and frown. “Again, they’re people. They don’t deserve to be victims of prejudice just as no one does.” He doesn’t respond, staring at you with an unreadable expression and a hint of a smile. Your frown deepens in confusion. Was he… laughing at you? Especially after you had just gotten along. “I’m so glad you find me amusing,” you say, scowling and storming back into the classroom and away from Remus.

3. when he's too good for flower crowns.

“Tell it again,” James insists, grin wide as ever plastered onto his face despite the withering look you send his way. “Getting a glimpse at even the possibility of Snivellus getting pummelled by Y/N would have made my entire year.”

“The galleons I’d give up to have been there,” Sirius releases a wistful sigh, closing his eyes as he lies down, facing the sun.

You hand him the daisy chain crown you just finished and he dutifully dons it. “I’ll alert the Ministry of Magic to order in a time-turner for an issue of utmost urgency,” you say sarcastically as you start on the next daisy chain. Sirius merely winks at you.

“I think you should’ve let her have at him, Remus,” Marlene states, unapologetic. You nod vehemently in agreement, a little too enthusiastically as you end up splitting a daisy down the middle.

Lily tuts, adjusting her own flower crown as it slips against her silky red hair. “I’m glad you didn’t. Godric knows what Professor Marigold would have done,” she shudders at the thought, ever the diligent student.

“Forget Marigold,” Peter chimes in. “Imagine what Professor McGonagall would have done.”

You don’t miss how he looks over his shoulder in case your head of house is taking a stroll along the grassy grounds.

“She would have combusted when you called him an ugly arse,” Remus pipes in, unhelpfully might you add, from where he sits slightly away from the group under a tree, reading.

The comment sends Marlene, Sirius and Peter into a fit of laughter – James is too busy staring at the way the sun is making Lily look ethereal and she’s too busy pretending not to notice while being secretly pleased. Doing a quick survey of your friends, you see everyone now has a flower crown except Remus. You make your way to the tree he’s resting against while the others chat, and sit yourself down with purpose.

Remus lowers his book very slightly to peer at you and your too-sweet smile. He raises a sceptical brow. “Should I be scared right now?”

You drop the fake smile and hold up your flower crown expectantly. “Everyone has one, but you.”

“How observant,” he says, setting his book down to look at you in mock astonishment. “Have the Aurors at the Ministry caught wind of you yet?”

“Don’t be a pain,” you groan, dropping it onto his open book. “I want everyone to wear one for the picture!”

Remus sighs, looking at the large camera over by your bag. You had saved up all summer to buy a magical camera to be able to take pictures of you and your friends in your final year at Hogwarts. The time you used your own muggle camera was a disaster of sparks and broken bits of plastic that took hours to mend. “I already agreed to your incessant picture-taking,” he reminds you, acting like it’s the most painful thing in the world. “The flower crown is not happening.”

“Fine, you miserable git,” you flick a handful of grass at him, sending him sputtering. “Now come and sit for the photo.”

You return to the group with Remus behind you and get everyone in position before hunting down someone to take the photo. Glancing around, you spot a close bunch of first-years and send Lily to use her Head Girl credentials (and warm and inviting personality, of course) to rope one of them into coming over.

“Okay, smile everyone,” you order, plopping down on the grass next to James. You elbow him in the ribs, not even having to look at him to know what he’s doing. “Stop looking at Lily and look at the camera.”

With a couple of mutterings and some nudging, the nervous first-year Hufflepuff girl shakily takes the picture and hurriedly hands you the camera in the middle of the picture sliding out of it. James and Sirius go back to playing with a golden Snitch while Peter watches, while Remus returns to his book.

Lily looks at the picture and coos over how cute everyone looks at the same time as Marlene complaining about her hair. You impatiently take the picture back to slide it into your photo album and something catches your eye.

Sirius is making a peace sign behind Remus’ head. His head that wears a flower crown.

4. when he bleeds out on you.

You’re not sure what time it is – either very late at night, or very early in the morning. You do know, however, that you want to finish your Herbology essay so you can enjoy tomorrow (or today) and cheer your friends on in the Gryffindor vs Ravenclaw Quidditch game. You only have the conclusion left and you’re confident it’ll be done in the next ten minutes.

If you can find your damned quill, that is. You could have sworn you had it ten minutes ago, just before you snuck down to the kitchens to persuade the house-elves to give you the strongest cup of coffee they could make. You take a quick sip and grimace at the lukewarm temperature before setting it down and getting up to search. After turning every sofa cushion upside down, you go to crouch behind the sofa.

You hear the door to the common room being swung open and the hushed voices of the Marauders enter, but you don’t take too much notice as you squint for your quill. It isn’t unusual for the boys to be roaming around the castle at odd hours of the night, but a hiss of pain grabs your attention at the same time you spot the quill.

“Can you guys manage taking him up to the-” Sirius cuts himself off when your face pops up from behind the sofa. He freezes in his efforts to hold up Remus, who you notice is leaning on him and James and Merlin’s balls he’s covered in blood.

“What the fuck happened to him?” Your voice comes out weak as you walk over to the boys. Remus has deep, bleeding slashes over his chest and an assortment of little cuts on his face and hands. He seems barely able to keep his eyes open but when his gaze meets yours, he winces. He isn’t the only one hurt and you realise Sirius’ arm is damp with blood and trembling, the same going for James’ thigh. “What the fuck happened to all of you, oh my God…?”

“Peter, you were supposed to keep watch,” James hisses at the boy who looks like a deer in headlights. He looks a lot better than the others, with only a couple of small cuts scattered around his face and arms.

“She was behind the sofa!”

James’ leg buckles and you snap out of your state of shock to dart forward and keep him steady. “Right. Shit, okay,” you breathe out, holding off asking any questions to prevent anyone from bleeding out. “James, Sirius, set Remus down on the sofa and take off his shirt. Peter, help these two up the stairs and go find a first-aid kit or something.”

“We’ve got a couple in the dorm,” Sirius says, summoning one of them down with a quick Accio and handing it to you. He hesitates for a second, probably unsure if he should stay and explain things, before deciding to turn in the direction of the stairs with James as Peter rushes to help them up. “Look after him, please. We’ll be right back, Moony.”

“Take your time, I’ve got him,” you utter, already fiddling with the first-aid box and trying to open it with shaky hands. You’re no healer, but you know enough to panic when you see Remus has had his eyes closed for the last few seconds. “Remus, keep your eyes open!”

He groans, cracking one eye open to look at you. “I’m injured and bleeding out and you still manage to yell at me.”

“I wasn’t yelling,” you frown, unscrewing the bottle of dittany and scrambling for the cotton pads. You try to avoid Remus’ gaze because you feel extremely silly about being more panicked than him when he’s the one with claw marks down his chest. “Don’t move, or it’ll hurt.”

While dabbing the liquid onto the deep gashes in an attempt to close them up, you ponder on the fact that he probably knows it hurts from experience. You’re not completely clueless.

“What are you thinking?” Remus whispers in the stifling quiet of the common room, looking unsure.

You don’t cease in your movements, changing cotton pad after cotton pad. It takes you a minute to muster up the courage to meet Remus’ gaze again and this time he looks more nervous than you’ve ever seen him. “You’re a werewolf, aren’t you?”

Remus gives you an almost imperceptible nod, like he doesn’t want to admit to it. You take a deep breath.

“Who else knows?” you ask calmly, as if you’re asking him about the weather.

“The boys and Lily,” he admits, swallowing hard. “Oh, and Snape.”

“Snape?” you exclaim, halting your dabbing to gawp at Remus. “I’m not saying you had to tell me or anything, but Snape?”

 Remus winces and you don’t think it has anything to do with his injuries. “In my defence he found out on his own and hates me for it,” he rushes out. “And it’s not that I didn’t want to tell you… I-”

“It’s fine,” you cut him off, waving him off and wondering how good you’re hiding the fact you’re a little hurt. “You didn’t have to tell me.”

“No, I wanted to. I did,” Remus insists, looking earnest. There’s something in his voice that’s a little pained and desperate that has you meeting his eyes. “I just couldn’t have dealt with it if you started looking at me differently. The boys and Lily sometimes do, y’know? Like I’m made of glass or something. It’s refreshing whenever you scowl at me or call me an idiot or an arse or a stupid gi-”

“Okay,” you stop him, stifling a grin. “I get it!”

Remus’ eyes flash with relief for a second before you notice doubt start to creep in again. “You don’t need to hide it, by the way. I won’t hold it against you if… If you’re scared or disgusted, or-”

“What?” you cut him off again and scrunch your nose in confusion. “I’m not scared or disgusted. Why would you think that?”

“You’ve been a bit too calm,” he points out.

Rolling your eyes, you grab a bandage to start patching up the worst of the injuries before you move onto the minor cuts and bruises. “I didn’t want you to think I was freaking out, or looking at you differently,” you quote his own words to him with a pointed look, making him smile again. “I don’t, you know. Think of you any differently, I mean.”

His expression is unreadable as he just looks at you and you just look at him, bandage hovering over his chest before his fingers come up to brush the back of your hand. He lightly holds your hand, softly running his thumb over your knuckle as his voice drops to a whisper again. “Thank you.”

You offer him a gentle smile, holding his gaze for a second longer before focusing on bandaging him up again. His hand drops to the side and you oddly find yourself missing his warmth. The large bandage adheres to his skin and you run your fingers along the sides to stick them down, feeling him shudder under your touch.

You quickly busy yourself with looking for more supplies in the kit to hide the way your own breathing has increased slightly. “Hey, anyway, I almost walloped Snape right in the eye for you. If that wasn’t any indication of my standing on werewolves, I don’t know what is.”

“Ah, my knight in shining armour,” Remus chuckles before breaking into a wheeze as the muscles of his injured abdomen contract. “Fuck, don’t make me laugh.”

“Don’t laugh at me then!”

5. when you’re definitely not jealous… you’re not!

Three cups of coffee. You’re on three cups of coffee. It’s also the same number of hours you’ve slept and by Godric can you feel it in every inch of your body as the muted chatter of the Great Hall buzzes around you. Your head is in your hands as you contemplate stealing some Polyjuice potion and bribing a first-year to take a dose with your hair in it so you can go to bed and they can pretend to watch the Quidditch match.

You knock back the last sip of coffee when you sense a presence sliding onto the bench in front of you. Groggily setting the cup down, you see that its Remus. It takes a second to remember why this is concerning.

“Morning, h- Wait, what the hell are you doing out of bed?” you hiss, leaning forward to avoid anyone listening in. You scan your eyes over his chest, two seconds away from ripping his shirt off to check his bandages. “How are you even standing?”

“Relax, Florence Nightingale,” Remus says, rolling his eyes at your dramatics. He does his own quick sweep of the table and sees that most people are out in the Quidditch stands already, so he proceeds to pull the neckline of his shirt down slightly to reveal an already fading scar. No bleeding in sight. “I went to Madame Pomfrey with the boys this morning and she hurried up the process like she usually does. I feel achier than a 90-year-old woman with a metal hip, but the brunt of it is gone and Pads and Prongs are good as new.”

“Okay,” you say slowly, narrowing your eyes slightly. “If you’re sure you can sit out in the stands…”

“I can once I’ve consumed every cup of tea on the premises,” he says, reaching for the teapot. An annoyingly smug smirk starts to appear on his face while he pours. “What, are you worried about me, trouble?”

You scowl instantly. “No, I just don’t want you collapsing on me in the Quidditch stands while I’m cheering the boys on.”

“Right.” He hides his grin behind his cup of tea.

“Hey,” you mumble, nodding to Patricia Holloway who looks like she’s making a beeline to your table. More specifically, towards Remus. “Bright and cheery Hufflepuff incoming.”

“Merlin, it’s too early for this,” Remus whispers, taking another sip of tea before his face breaks out into a charming smile directed at the girl who slides into the empty seat next to him. “Morning, Patricia.”

“You look good today, Remus,” Patricia rests her elbow on the table and tilts her head to look at him with simpering eyes. It’s no secret Remus is good-looking and you’ve heard a million girls talk about him before. You’ve never seen any of them approach him yourself, though. You can’t say you enjoy it. “Are you… okay, Y/N?”

You didn’t realise you were scowling until she addresses you and you rapidly smooth out your expression, clearing your throat. Remus looks amused, which makes it harder to keep the scowl off your face. “Fine! I’m fine, just a bit confused since Remus looks half asleep,” you attempt a laugh through gritted teeth and are spurred on when Remus is actively trying to fight a grin. “And his hair currently makes him look like he’s been dragged through the Forbidden Forest.”

He can’t stop himself snorting at that, but Patricia just looks confused as though unsure how to react. She settles on a nervous little laugh, turning back to him. “I can fix that for you, here,” she says, scooting closer and starts to run her hands through Remus’ hair. You poke your cheek with your tongue, marvelling at how bold she’s being and how Remus is just sat there, still looking amused as ever. “There, what do you think?”

“A hairbrush couldn’t have done a better job,” you deadpan, softening your expression slightly when Patricia begins to look a little disconcerted. “You keep doing that, I’m going to head off to the Quidditch field.”

You all but storm out of the Great Hall, exhaustion having left you completely. It’s replaced by a newfound whirl of irritation that pools in your stomach and creeps up your throat, making you feel a little sick. It must be the coffee, you think, and you’re trying to remember if the beverage has ever made you experience this when all of a sudden there’s a hand circling your wrist.

“Stop, Y/N,” Remus says, a little breathless. You didn’t realise he’d run out after you and you feel bad about his injuries before your gaze snags on his newly tousled hair. “Godric, you walk fast.”

“I didn’t ask you to catch up to me,” you snap, purposely scowling this time. The cheeky bastard still looks amused and your irritation is growing faster than ever. “Besides, the match doesn’t start for another fifteen minutes. Plenty of time for Patricia to give you a whole new hairdo. Maybe she can give you plaits or– Why are you laughing.”

“You’re jealous,” he exhales with a smile, sounding positively delighted. Any feelings of concern have disappeared and are being rapidly replaced with wanting to thwack him upside the head. “Oh my God, you really are jealous.”

“Jealous, my arse,” you scoff, turning your back to him with every intention of speed walking out of the castle. His long legs keep up with you easily and he rushes in front of you to stop you going anywhere. You glare at him. “Leave me alone, Lupin.”

“Not until you admit that you’re jealous.” Remus is positively giddy with glee and you feel a flush of heat crawling up your neck. You set your jaw stubbornly and he’s incredulous as he shakes his head. “Merlin, you really have to argue with me on everything don’t you? I don’t care about Patricia Holloway and I’m glad you’re jealous. Means you’re less likely to break my nose when I kiss you.”

You barely get the chance to make an incoherent noise when Remus grabs you by the waist and presses his lips against yours, kissing you like he isn’t prepared to let you go anytime soon. His mouth slides hot and wet against your own and you gasp into the kiss when he nips lightly at your lip, your hands coming up to slide into his hair, making it unruly all over again.

Remus is the first to break apart, too soon, and you physically restrain yourself from chasing after his lips. He pulls back slightly, breathing fast to look into your eyes, searching for the answer you’re unable to speak yet.

“You… uh, I-I’m…” you trail off, dazed and breathless and head swirling with every emotion under the sun.

Remus laughs, pulling you impossibly close and leaving a soft kiss on your jaw, which doesn’t help your current speech issues. “If I knew that was all it took to shut you up, I’d have kissed you years ago.”

“Wha-!” You slap his arm, snapping out of the haze. You hide your current uncertainty behind a glare. It hit you like a ton of bricks, but you realised about five seconds into the kiss that you wanted Remus Lupin in every way, shape and form. You’re more than a little terrified, so what better defence mechanism than anger? “Why did you actually kiss me, you prick?”

“You are the densest, most clueless,” Remus begins, pausing to kiss you lightly a couple times when you start to scowl. “Most stubborn and most beautiful little witch I’ve ever known. And if you haven’t figured out after almost seven years that I love you, then I’m afraid we might have to admit you to St Mungo’s, because really-”

“Stop,” you whisper, lifting a finger to press against his lips, effectively silencing him. “You love me? You actually, seriously love me?”

He rolls his eyes and nods, like it’s obvious or something. You huff. “Then why have you been such an annoying pain in my bloody arse, Remus Lupin?!”

“Because,” he says, the word coming out muffled and you hastily remove your finger. “It was a good way to keep your attention. Plus, I like when you’re angry. It’s cute.”

You scowl without thinking and his smile impossibly widens.

“See?”

“Shut up and kiss me again,” you say dryly, pulling him in by the collar to give him a short, searing kiss. “Oh, and I guess I love you too.”

“So, no broken noses in my future?” Remus asks hopefully, softly sliding his nose against yours.

“No promises.”

© angelfic 2023.

[cheolism-archive]

『 good influence 』

✧ kwon soonyoung x f!reader ✧ summary: slowly soonyoung begins to influence you into making some questionable decisions ✧ wc is approx 3.4k ✧ warnings: mdni. dom!hosh, top!hosh; sub!reader, bottom!reader. exhibitionism, perversion. dracyphilia. sex in public spaces. name calling (slut), praise (good girl). ✧ notes: this isn't a full-fledged fic as so much as a collection of bits. inspired by this ask. do not leave requests, as my requests are closed.

tag list: @coffeestay @tinkerbell460 @hyneyedfiz @wonuhour @sweet-like-caramel @immabecreepin

it starts with a too-small pastel pink skirt.

you're playing with the edges of it, turning in the mirror. it covers your front just fine, but when you turn to look at your ass you can see your striped underwear and how it clings to your ass cheeks.

you frown. you had liked the skirt a few years ago, had worn it religiously. it twirled prettily, sat high enough for you to be comfortable. but during the span of a winter you had forgotten about it, and it wasn't until you decided to go through your wardrobe before moving into your boyfriend's apartment that you had discovered it again.

soonyoung walks into the room, eyes on his phone. you turn one last time in the mirror, catching his attention. you watch, through the mirror, as he halts in his tracks. his dark eyes widen and his mouth drops a little, and soonyoung walks to you as if he had an invisible piece of rope tugging him along.

"it's too small," you explain, trying to tug the skirt down to cover your ass.

"yeah," he says, and then his hands are over yours. soonyoung pushes your hands aside and cups your ass, squeezing and kneading. he slips two of his fingers underneath your underwear, following the curve of your ass cheek to your cunt. "fuck, it's so perfect."

you're half-ashamed at how quickly you get wet. but your body responds to soonyoung's wandering hands nearly immediately, a tickling sensation traveling to your cunt and wetness leaking from it.

"fucking perfect," soonyoung hisses. and then he's pressing your face into the bed, your ass hanging over the edge. he doesn't pull your panties all the way down, just to your knees. he doesn't push aside your skirt; instead he fucks his fingers into your cunt with his other hand grabbing at the fabric of your panties and your flesh, nails scraping along your skin.

when he fucks into you -- his cock fat, stretching you farther than his fingers did -- he keeps the skirt down. he's frantic with it, his mouth a motor running a thousand miles a minute, spewing the dirtiest of things.

"fucking begging for it," he mumbles, pressing you down onto the bed while he slams his dick into you. you're whining into the blankets, voice pitching higher and higher until you're practically sobbing. but it's hard to hear your cries over the sound of his thighs slapping yours, his cock drilling into your cunt and making the wet noises of your pussy echo in your ears.

"fucking begging," he hisses, "standing in this fucking skirt. begging for my cock to ruin you, begging for my dick -- weren't you, baby? begging for me to fuck you raw."

you sobbed into the blanket, and soonyoung pulls out. he takes his cock into his hand and thrusts into it a handful of times before he's cumming over your skirt and ass. soonyoung pulls your panties up and covers your cunt once more, and at this point you're fucking sobbing, begging for relief.

"don't worry baby," he mumbles, "i'll give you want you want."

soonyoung brings his hand down on your covered cunt, striking it. you're sobbing, and he's spanking your raw pussy. after another slap he begins to rub at your poor clit through your underwear, the fabric a barrier between his hand and your clit.

when you cum you're screaming into the bed, tears and drool drenching both your face and the bed.

you think that's the end of it.

it's not the end of it.

nearly a week later soonyoung sheepishly approaches you. he's not looking at you and his ears are quickly taking on a pink hue. you wait, plopping a grape into your mouth, for him to speak. he doesn't.

"soonie?" you say, raising your brows at him. "what's up?"

he opens his mouth. shuts it. then he takes out his phone and quickly types before sliding it across the island counter and to you.

can i ask a favor

you nod. he takes back the phone, deletes, retypes. slides the phone back across the counter.

can u wear that skirt and climb the stairs from the 3rd floor to 4th and let me take pictures

you blink, furrowing your brows. you look back up at your boyfriend. his entire face is turning pink, and he's turned his shoulder to you. he refuses to look at you.

you check the time. it's evening, past the time when the apartment building buzzes with people returning from work and kids returning from school. the sun has begun to set, and it casts golden light into your apartment from where it faces the west.

the skirt hadn't been thrown away. the day after soonyoung fucked you against the edge of the bed you had finally managed to throw it into the wash as it was stained with his cum and your own juices and, even though you had the intention of donating it, you just couldn't donate it with your boyfriend's cum dried onto it.

then it had gotten mixed into the laundry again and you forgot about it.

"i don't know where it is," you say, grabbing another grape.

soonyoung turns his face from you completely. he reaches into his hoodie pocket and withdraws light pink fabric.

not just any light pink fabric, but the too-short skirt.

"didn't want you to donate it," he mumbles, twisting it in his hands.

you're horrified and embarrassed and horribly, ridiculously turned-on. "give it here," you say.

soonyoung moves to you. you grab the fabric from his hands, taking it in. it's wrinkled from where he's played with it.

"i'll need to iron it," you murmur, "for it to look nice in pictures."

soonyoung brightens, his shoulders dropping in relief. "really?"

grinning, you grab a grape. he opens his mouth obediently when you raise it to his lips, and then your fingers are skimming along his mouth as you press it in.

you want to change your panties to something more clean, but soonyoung stops you. "it'll be better if they're ones you've worn for a bit," he sheepishly says.

for a moment you're confused. but then you realize what he's insinuating and you feel heat rush to your face.

maybe, you think as you pull on the skirt, your boyfriend wasn't as innocent as you thought.

the two of you go to the stairwell. you wait for a moment, trying to listen and see if there's anyone coming up or going down. soonyoung fumbles with his phone, pulling up his camera.

"i'll go a few before you," you say. and then you begin up the set of stairs. he takes a few pictures of your bare thighs and how the fabric shows off the edges of your panties and the soft curve of your cheeks.

"what about a video?" soonyoung questions once you get to the top.

and so you go back down. you begin to retrace your steps, soonyoung taping the way your skirt bounces against your ass, when there's the sound of the stairwell door opening.

you turn to him, eyes wide with panic.

soonyoung climbs the stairs in swift steps, crowding you against the wall. he covers your side, one hand against the wall behind you and allowing him to partly cover your backside.

it's a young woman. she takes in how close soonyoung is to you, how you refuse to look at her. and then she averts her eyes and hurries down the stairs, ponytail bouncing as she practically sprints.

you burst into your apartment moments later, spinning on soonyoung as soon as the door is shut. "we're not doing that again."

"okay," he says.

but he's a liar.

he grows bolder in the days that past the incident. you've caught him with his dick in hand, the video of you climbing the stairwell replaying in a loop multiple times. you feel like a deer caught in the headlights each and every time soonyoung catches you, and soon enough the ache between your thighs is nearly constant from his harsh fucking.

someone at work comments on it, how you seem more relaxed than usual. you can't look at them and sputter about a new tea your boyfriend got you.

but as embarrassed as you are you don't bring it up to him. not when you begin shutting doors behind you in hopes of, whenever you open them again, he'll be on the other side with his fat dick in hand, eyes trained on his phone and your skirt-covered ass filling the screen.

but he becomes bolder, and this -- his perversion -- begins to leak into your life outside of your shared apartment.

it's a small thing at first.

"i can't believe minghao just left," mingyu huffs. there's not enough room in joshua's car for all of you.

you shrug, pulling your blanket close around your torso. it's not cold, not enough for a heavy jacket, but it's chilly enough to where the autumn air bites. "he did say he wasn't going to stay the whole game."

"he was my ride," mingyu pouts.

"then you should've been paying attention to his texts," joshua snaps, tired of mingyu's complaining. "unless someone wants to pay for a lyft someone is going to have to sit on a lap."

soonyoung is ridiculously happy to have an excuse for you to sit on his lap. you throw your blanket over your legs, feet knocking against his and chan's, who sat in the middle.

the car is barely moving before soonyoung's fingers are on your thighs.

the radio doesn't cover chan and mingyu's bickering, or hansol picking chan's side, but it does cover your soft gasp as soonyoung's fingers dip further, the tips of them brushing against the inner seam of your jeans.

"just making sure you're not going anywhere," he says, nose pressing against your neck. you nod, believing him for a minute.

and then his fingers, concealed by your thick blanket, dip to your cunt. it's covered by your panties and jeans but you can feel his fingers all the same. his fingers brush against your clit, but due to the fabric between his fingers and your clit all you can feel are tingles that have you yearning to buck up into his hands.

but you don't.

instead you step on his foot, heel pressing down on his toes. soonyoung hisses, softly, and then he's full heartedly fucking his fingers into your cunt.

there's layers between his fingers between your cunt but you can feel them, can feel the drag of them against your pussy and how he aims at your clit. it's not enough to bring an orgasm, not enough to do anything other than wind you up, but it makes you so stimulated that every point of contact between you and soonyoung seems magnified.

after, once you bid joshua and the rest of your friends goodnight and are in the elevator, you whirl on soonyoung. he's smirking, softly, satisfied.

"you're ridiculous," you hiss, eyes narrowed at him.

"you didn't stop me," he says, still grinning. "what a good girl you are. letting me use you like that."

and he's right.

it's midnight and you and soonyoung are halfway to your destination. you've pulled over, in desperate need of caffeine to stay awake. soonyoung says something about candy and you nod, stumbling towards the bathroom.

there's only one toilet in it and you wait for the woman before you to exit. you do your business and when you open the door soonyoung is there. you can barely form a word before he's crowding you back into the bathroom, locking the door behind him.

"soonyoung? what are you doing --"

he's pressing you against the counter. soonyoung shoves down your sweats to your ankles and helps you jump onto the counter. "gotta wake you up, baby," he says, mouth pressing harsh, quick kisses to yours.

"gotta be a good girl and be quiet," he mumbles. soonyoung shoves his hand against your panties, fingers quickly finding your clit. he works furiously, fingers building an orgasm far more expertly than anyone else ever could. soonyoung's mouth muffles any noise from yours and his words are mumbled against your mouth.

but that doesn't stop him from talking.

"what a dirty girl," he says, "letting me fuck you in this bathroom. like a fucking slut -- is that what you are, baby? you my slut?"

you whine, his mouth moving to your jaw. he sucks a mark into your skin. "soonie --"

"say it," he commands, eyes sharp like a tiger's. "be a good girl and say it, baby."

you frown, eyes begging. but then you oblige, and he's dropping to his knees. soonyoung presses his tongue against the fabric of your panties and it's only a handful of seconds later before your cumming, biting down on your lip to stop yourself from moaning.

"sorry," soonyoung says as the two of you leave the bathroom. there's an older woman waiting. "my girl started her period and needed some help."

your eyes are tinged red from tears, and perhaps it's because of how pathetic you look the woman believes him. she gives you a look of sympathy and then moves into the bathroom.

"what a good girl," soonyoung murmurs as you leave the gas station. "such a good girl for me."

"i want you to do something for me," soonyoung says.

you look over at him from the driver's seat. it's so nice out that despite having to wait for your friends to show up you've rolled down the windows and turned off the car, content to wait with the sun and breeze.

soonyoung is looking at you directly. he's confident, eyes twinkling and a smile playing on his lips.

he reaches out, laying a hand on your bare thigh. he had gotten you a pretty sundress, he had said, just for this picnic with your friends.

soonyoung's hand smooths up your thigh. his fingers slide underneath your dress. "i want you to be good and take your panties off for me."

your eyes widen, and your hand slaps down on his. "soonyoung," you hiss. "we're in public. at a park!"

he smirks, leaning over the center console. "be a good girl," he chastises you. "come on, be a good girl for soonie."

you hesitate for a second more. you check outside of the car before you hook your fingers into your panties, pulling them down your legs.

"good girl," soonyoung coos at you. he grabs your panties and shoves them into his pocket.

you're so self conscious. you refuse to move from the picnic blanket, saying you don't feel well. soonyoung watches you with a grin, and, when no one is looking, takes your panties from his pocket and lifts it to his nose, smelling them. you're terrified. every breeze has you pressing your hands against the skirt of your dress, making sure it keeps down. you freeze whenever one of your friends gets too close, worried they'll somehow catch on.

you're scared, but your cunt is wet and throbbing with need.

once your friend date is over, soonyoung is pushing you into the backseat of the car. he fucks you quick, pushing the skirt of your dress up around your middle. each drag of his dick has you moaning, arching up into him.

"desperate little slut," he says, withdrawing from your pussy. he waits. "so worried about our friends seeing your little cunt and yet letting me fuck you in the car."

"please," you beg, and then he's fucking into you in one swift movement, drawing a loud moan that almost seemed like a scream from your lips.

the worst of it comes during a thunder storm.

jeonghan and you frowned over the weather app while seokmin and soonyoung continued to mess around, spewing nonsense about childhood cartoons and villains. it was raining badly, too badly for you to dare to try and make the drive back across the city to your apartment.

a bed is made for soonyoung on the living room carpet and you on the couch. it isn't until midnight that seokmin and jeonghan both retire to their rooms, seokmin impishly pressing a kiss to your temple before scattering.

you go about preparing for bed. you pull on one of seungcheol's shirts -- how it got there, you didn't know -- before stretching out on the couch, sinking into the sheet that covered the couch's leather and still smelled fresh.

soonyoung leans to give you a goodnight kiss. you hum, letting your eyes fall shut and meeting each press of his lips eagerly.

he pulls away for a moment, staring down at you. you don't quite have the time to question him before soonyoung is on the couch, pressing you against the seats.

soonyoung's mouth devours you. his tongue shoves into your mouth with every kiss, kissing you as messily as he knew how. your hands go to his shirt, tugging.

"gonna fuck you," he says, voice low. soonyoung pulls off of you just enough to reach for his shirt and throw it to the ground. "gonna fuck you on jeonghan's couch."

he throws your sweatpants to the floor, pressing his face to your panties. soonyoung breathes in against your underwear, inhaling the smell of your pussy and your day-old underwear. "smells so fucking good," he groans, and then he's licking a broad stripe up your cunt.

it's horrible, you know, that you muffle your moan with your hand and lift your hips up to his mouth instead of stopping him.

soonyoung sucks kisses over your clit and through your panties, arms hooking around your thighs. you can feel his biceps strain as you shift in his hold, soonyoung intent on keeping you still.

he drenches your panties with his tongue, laving against them as if there wasn't a fabric barrier between his mouth and cunt. you don't trust yourself to move your hand from your mouth, and your free hand goes to his dark hair and twists.

he slips one hand into your panties while he licks at you and after a moment of fierce rubbing against the sides of your clit you're orgasming, biting down on your wrist to stop yourself from moaning.

soonyoung moves you to the floor to fuck you. he raises your ass into the air and pushes your head into the pillow. his fingers press harsh marks into your hips as he drills his fat cock into you, forcing your walls to make way for his dick.

"good fucking girl," he hisses, dick striking against your gummy core, "fucking good slut, letting me fuck you. so fucking soaked for me, fucking -- you like this, baby? like me fucking you on our best friend's floor?"

you sob into the pillow, his dick dragging against your walls and hitting deep within you. you swear you can feel his dick in your throat, swear he's splitting you in half.

"what a slut," soonyoung says. "my little slut with a tight little cunt, fucking all wet 'n warm for me."

his nails press into your skin and he's cumming, his spunk filling your cunt. soonyoung is still cumming when the sound of a door opening fills your ears, and then he's forcing you flat against the floor and throwing the blanket over you two.

he's pressed against your back, dick buried deep within you still. you can feel his cum inside of you, can feel it on your cunt from where it had leaked during soonyoung's scramble. you can feel his balls against your ass, can feel his hot body against yours.

can feel the harsh thundering of your heart as your friend leaves the bathroom and moves to the living room, checking in on you two. he lingers for a moment, and you're so fucking aware of your breathing that you can barely hear when he moves back to his room.

soonyoung waits a few minutes. and then he's laughing softly into your ear. he slips his limp dick from your cunt only to replace it with his fingers. "not done with you," he says, pressing his smile against your clothed shoulder. "not done with you yet, baby."

it's so fucking messy down there. his cum leaks from your cunt with every thrust of his fingers, and you have to press your cries into the pillow.

in the morning you wake to soonyoung dressing you. he pulls your panties and sweatpants on, ignoring the mess that still stained your thighs. he pulls the sheets and blankets off of the couch and helps you onto it, tucking you back in with a blanket after checking to make sure there's no stains.

you hurt. hurt from laying on the floor, hurt from his rough fucking. your cunt aches and you can't help but take pleasure in every tingle of pain that shoots from it when you shift.

seokmin wakes and exits his room to soonyoung throwing the stained sheets and blankets into the washer. he's surprised, but he says something about how much of a good influence you've had on soonyoung.

he can't see the grin soonyoung throws you from over seokmin's shoulder.

[mothwingwritings]

Can we have Ren/Fox (TPOF) and Mc with a child?Long after Fox decided to stay with MC, they both had a daughter (probably not something with consent and a bit of Stockholm syndrome).The daughter asks her mother how she got the scars and this makes MC have memories of post-traumatic stress.

I was so tickled by this ask that I started manically typing out a response for it nearly as soon as I saw it in my ask box (which at this point, was quite some time ago. Forgive me, I am a mess lul). I wrote the whole damn thing in a fit of passion, excited to release it into the world… But ultimately hated it and thought it was garbo, so I scrapped it and tried again. Wrote a second iteration and thought ‘hell yeah, this is it!!! Sick!’, but then I read it AND HATED THAT ONE TOO AAAHHH!!!

I rewrote this… so much…

But I never give up on my dreams, and you shouldn’t either! Persevere! Don’t give up on yourself! Here’s your daily motivation for the day! Keep writing even it makes you cry!!! :D

Anyway, so I wrote this third one, comprised of new stuff and the stuff I actually did like from the first two stabs, and it ended up being the one. Truly it is a Frankenstein of a fic lol. Regardless of all the reworking, I had a lot of fun writing this and enjoyed the prompt very much!!! I I hope you enjoy reading it just as much. :)

I’m sorry if the writing seems a tad too mature for the reader’s daughter in this, writing children isn’t my forte. ^^;

Due to the nature of this fic, IT IS 18+ ONLY!!! Thank you!

WARNINGS: Incessant mentions of abuse of all kinds for reader and mentions of physical abuse for her child!!! Reader is heavily scarred from said abuse and that’s a main theme in this fic so please avoid if that is upsetting to you. Also, though not the main focus, there are multiple mentions of child abuse in this fic, as well a part where reader goes off verbally on her child, so please be mindful of that as well! Other things of note: reader is a parent in this (which you can probably tell by the prev warning lol), reader getting hurt, blood, manipulation, Stockholm syndrome, being held against your will/isolation, mentions of noncon, sad family stuff :(

Diminishing rays of afternoon light splayed through the open window of your quaint living room, casting a comforting orange glow over everything they touched. The light gave the environment an ethereal and nostalgic feel, wrapping you in peaceful warmth as the sun sunk lower and lower. The loveseat you occupied was plush and inviting, and a mug of your favorite tea stood at the ready on the small coffee table beside you, steadily cooling with help from the last hurrah of winter blowing in gently from the outside. Besides the slight chill, the wind brought with it the heavy scent of freshly bloomed flowers, a delightful precursor to the oncoming spring.

Relishing the rare moment of serenity, you couldn’t help but wish that all your days could be this lovely.

You smiled down at your daughter who sat perched in your lap, happily flipping through the newest gift she had acquired from her Father- a thick picture book full of bright illustrations highlighting various exotic animals. As it lay sprawled across her tiny lap, her chubby finger pointed out each animal she took an interest in, her high pitched voice chirping away as she explained what she liked about the creatures. She got particularly excited when she spotted the page full of foxes, jabbing at the red one feverishly as she exclaimed “its daddy!”

Spotting the foxes began her down a path of assigning an animal to not just herself, but you as well. She didn’t find it fair that only her father had kin in the animal world, even though you pointed out that she technically did as well by sharing half the man’s blood. Your revelation did little to deter her, she wanted something new, something just for herself, and she wasn’t going to stop until she found her perfect soul animal. So she continued on, scanning each page in earnest until she found a creature that suited her.

She ended up picking a bunny for herself, supplying you with a comprehensive reason as to why she chose it. As she explained in great length, skimping no details, you couldn’t help but hold back laughter. She spoke as if she were a professor teaching a class, and you did your best to keep a straight face as she yammered on with her shoddy reasoning, deep down knowing she only picked a rabbit because of how cute they are.

After she was done waxing poetic about bunnies, she continued scouring the book, coming to a halt once she reached the wild cat section. She stopped with a gasp, beaming up at you as she pressed her finger firmly against one of the images on the page.

“Mommy this one is you!”

Your eyes traveled to the picture she was rapidly tapping, “An African Wildcat, huh?” You smirked down at the little girl in amusement, “Why did you pick that one for me?”

“Because it looks just like you!”

You chuckled at her enthusiasm, “It looks like me? How so?”

“It has marks just like you do!”

Her innocuous words sent a chill up your spine. Eying the stripes that crossed the cat’s legs, you felt a great unease begin to overtake your body. Her reasoning was not lost on you, the cats coat did quite resemble the jagged scars that covered nearly every inch of your body, and just like the feline in her book, your limbs were the most prominent location of said ‘markings’. You quickly shook your head, not wanting to dwell on it further. In hopes of moving on from the subject, the outpouring of words that flew from your mouth were jumbled and messy.

“O-oh, I see,” you stuttered, clearing your throat to steady your voice, “well you certainly picked a cute animal for me! Thank you baby, it was a good choice.”

She smiled at you innocently, a gesture that usually made your heart melt with affection. But as her tiny hands moved from the book to your arms, that smile did nothing but fill you with dread, the realization that you wouldn’t be getting out of this sticky situation hitting you like a brick to the face. 

“Yeah mommy, the kitty’s marks are just like these ones,” her stubby fingers gently traced the old wounds, a look of reverence reflected on her cherubic features. “They make you look like that kitty mommy,” her little voice cooed, “I like them a lot!”

Your muscles constricted at her words, a slight tremor coursing through you as you involuntarily tightened your grip on her. She took note of this, looking up at your strained features with a puzzled expression on her face.

“Don’t be sad mommy,” she spoke assuredly, “I really do like them! I think they are pretty!”

Her words burned you, scorching the inside of your frozen shell of a body, leaving you feeling sickly and discombobulated. The room around you started to spin in a hazy blur, a wave of nausea making you nearly wretch. Your breathing grew erratic as you tried to calm yourself, inwardly repeating that your daughter was just a child, a little girl barely four years of age who had an incredibly limited view of the world. Her words were not meant to upset you. Her opinions were coming from a place of total naivety.

Yet still, the mental assurance did little to help with the extremely uncomfortable position you now founds yourself in. It wasn’t as if this was her first time noticing your scars. She had mentioned them before, her curious mind trying to piece together the reason that her arms appeared different from your own. Each time she brought your old wounds up you couldn’t help but feel flustered, responding with weak explanations and misdirection to try and quickly brush off her questioning.

The marks came from a silly mistake, or a childhood accident, or from a careless moment when mommy should have been paying more attention. It was always excuses on repeat. How many lies had you told her on this topic alone?

But even if they were lies, it beat telling her the truth. You didn’t want to have to explain where the scars on your body actually came from to anyone, let alone a child, and especially not to your own daughter. How could you possibly word it gently, or in a way that she would understand, when you barely understood why you had them yourself? How could you look her in the eye and tell her that these markings were a permanent sign that you had been very, very hurt and that it was her own fathers hands that inflicted the pain?

Reliving the horrific moments that left your body in such a state was overwhelming enough on its own, but to also have to lay bare her father’s sins, relay to her the unsavory proclivities of a man who she idolized and adored, was not something you were keen on doing.

She didn’t know her daddy like you knew him. She was ignorant to the constant state of concern you lived in, unaware of the worries that plagued your mind and kept you up each night. All the troubles of the hell she had been born into were completely lost on the small, carefree girl.

But honestly that was for the best. You had made an unspoken promise the moment she entered your life that you would protect her no matter what. From the day of her birth onward it became your mission to keep her as happy and healthy as possible.

Ren had broken you, but she did not have to suffer the same fate.

At this point in her life, your daughter knew nothing of her daddy’s profession or ‘hobbies’, and you wanted it to remain that way for as long as possible, if not for the rest of her life. You dreaded each time Ren came home from an auction, terrified he may let casually slip too many details about his ‘lively client’ or that he would carelessly step through the door with the stains of his liaisons still littering his clothes. Your daughter was at an age where she was brimming with questions, and she was relentless in getting answers to each question she asked. Everything had to be explained in complete detail for her to be satisfied, drop the subject, and move on. She was a smart little thing, possibly too smart for her own good. You highly doubted a silly joke or wave of the hand would assuage her whirring mind should Ren grow too impetuous in her presence.

And should her questioning become too pesky, you fretted over what Ren’s reaction to it may be. The more you tried to avoid thinking about it the more you seemed to fixate on the topic, pondering just how much goading it would take from your daughter before his temper would rear its ugly head.  You, above anyone, had firsthand experience in just how volatile the man could be, the scars that littered your body a testament to his turbulent emotions and violent outbursts.

Looking back on it now, it’s a wonder you survived any of it at all.

Ren often told you he loved you, each confession spoken through honeyed words that spilled from his lips easily and often.  And while you didn’t doubt those words (you knew better than to, at this point), you also knew his sweet nothings weren’t merely a term of endearment, they also served as your curse. He loved you, but he also loved your fealty to him, your adoration and worship of him and only him. Should you not reciprocate his feelings as quickly or ardently as he expected, the mere thought of whatever punishment he would concoct was enough to send you into a debilitating panic attack.

There were few things he loathed more than when you flinched from his affection or if you exhibited any sign of distress towards his presence, especially after he had spent so many years going above and beyond to provide for you, devote himself to you. You had learned early on to keel any feelings of aversion you had to his advances, several of your more prominent scars a brutal reminder of that misstep alone.

 If your daughter uncovered the truth and saw her father for who he truly was, if she began to fear him the way you feared him, how would he respond?  If not only his partner, but his own daughter started shying away from him, what length would he go to to correct this behavior?

Dwelling on it made your skin crawl.

But perhaps all of your worries were asinine. Despite his inclination for cruelty, Ren had never so much as raised a hand towards your daughter, even when she did act up. If anything, he was overprotective of her, barely letting her move faster than a brisk jog lest she fall and hurt herself. He hated seeing his little girl experience even a modicum of physical pain, mentioning to you previously that were he able, he’d keep her locked up in a padded room all day and night to prevent any foreseeable accidents or injuries. Surely it was just his idea of a joke, but the insinuation still made you cringe.

It was almost comical, just how greatly the manifestation of his affection for her differed from how he showed his love for you.

His domineering nature shielded her from experiencing any true pain. Every scrape, bruise, and cut she ever received was superficial, nothing that caused major bleeding or left a lasting impression. She had no way of knowing what had been done to you to cause the scars that marred your form, the torment and hell you experienced with each slash, smack, burn. Hell, she probably didn’t even really understand what a scar actually was. All she knew was that her mommy and daddy had strange marks on their skin that didn’t follow any kind of set pattern, weird jagged lines and indents that her soft skin was curiously free from. The mystery of it all was as puzzling to her young mind as it was enticing.

However, some mysteries were best left unsolved, and just as with each other time she brought up this hot topic, you found yourself unable to look into her clear, bright eyes and tell her any semblance of the truth. She may have been forced upon you, but she was your daughter. You loved her, and you refused to be the one to shatter her innocence. You would keep her ignorant for as long as possible, shielding her to the endless nightmare of your daily lives, even if it cost you your sanity.

“Mommy,” her voice jarred you, dragging you from your thoughts, “mommy did you hear me? I said I think they are pretty!”

“T-that’s… I…” You stuttered, struggling to find the right words to say, your voice coming out much smaller than you intended it to. The room felt like it had dropped thirty degrees, your body twitching in response to the sudden chill.

“Daddy told me he gave some of them to you, like this one,” her pudgy, cold finger pressed into the faded heart that resided on your chest, the first of many indelible sins he had etched onto your form. Only the top half of the carved symbol was viewable above the collar of your shirt, so she tugged at the loose hem until she could see it in its horrible entirety.

“Daddy said he gave you this one because he loves you so much,” her voice grew quiet, a thoughtful look in her eye as they drank in wounds you wished you could forget, “Daddy loves me too, right mommy? You think he’ll give me a cute heart someday too?”

You felt as if you had been hit by a train.

“S-top,” the words were forced from your throat, airy and breathless, as if someone was wringing your neck to make them come out, “p-please, just stop talking.”

“What did you say mama,” your daughters sing-song voice responded as her fingers continued to trace and prod your scars, “You are whispering, is it a secret?”

“I told you to SHUT UP!”

As if following your command, your booming voice instantly silenced the small girl. Unused to such a violent outburst from her mother, her happy-go-lucky nature quickly shifted to one of alert, her tiny body going rigid as she stared up at you with fearful eyes.

Seeing her in such a state and knowing that you were the cause of it would normally have killed you inside, making you fall to your knees to beg for the child’s forgiveness. But right now, the thin thread that had been holding you together had snapped, and your words rushed out in a torrent you couldn’t begin to quell.

“Shut up, shut up, shut UP!” You seethed, clasping your hands to your ears to try and block out your own intrusive voice, “Just STOP TALKING about it! What are you even saying? Why would you ever want to look like this?!”

Tears started to flood your eyes, blurring the image of the girl who had quickly jumped from your lap and was now cowering before you. Through your bleary vision, you could see tears were brimming her eyes as well.

“You… You have no idea,” your voice warbled, shaking in equal parts grief and frustration, “You have no clue what you are saying, so just STOP IT. KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT AND DON’T YOU DARE SPEAK OF IT AGAIN!”

You slunk from the chair down to the floor, burying your face in your cold, stiff hands. The soft blubbering of your daughter could be heard through your own sobbing.

“I-I’m sorry mommy. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

Hearing her broken voice began to shatter the spell you had been under, instant regret jerking you roughly back to reality. Your head sunk lower, your body scrunching itself up as tightly as possible to hide from this cruel reality.

Your screams were born from deeply buried feelings of hatred, tucked far, far away as a means of self-preservation. For a moment, you felt as if you despised your daughter, her existence tethering you to this wretched excuse of a life, binding you irrevocably to Ren. But as you lifted your heavy head, glancing up to stare into her young face, a face so very similar to your own, a face contorted in panic and sadness over her mother’s abrupt descent into madness… you realized it wasn’t her that you hated.

It was yourself.

Your daughter didn’t deserve this. She deserved normalcy. She deserved a father that didn’t pose a threat to her. She deserved a mother that wasn’t ruined by his hands. She deserved a happy and untroubled life, not to be stuck being raised in a barbed cage, navigating her way through life with nothing but the shattered remains of a battered woman to guide her.

“I’m so sorry,” you choked under the weight of your overwhelming emotions, snot and tears running freely down your ruddy cheeks and chin, “I’m so, so sorry baby…”

“What the hell is going on?”

You hadn’t heard the front door open, nor had you heard Ren’s jubilant greeting as he entered your home. He had no doubt been upset by the lack of welcome-it was one thing to be ignored by a child, but his doting wife? That was not something he was not apt to look past.

But surely any feelings of annoyance or frustration fled from his mind the moment he entered the room, his eyes falling upon your crumpled, messy form collapsed on the floor. You cursed his arrival, upset that he entered the scene at such a compromising time, right as you were struggling to regain an ounce of composure and properly apologize to the little girl who had done nothing wrong.

“D-daddy,” your daughter’s voice warbled as she barreled towards him, colliding into his waiting embrace. You wiped at your face in a desperate attempt to hide your previous outpouring of emotions, doing your best to avoid eye contact with Ren as his sharp gaze quickly flicked from you, to his daughter.

This had already become enough of a scene without Ren’s interference, it was best to try and begin damage control now. 

“Daddy I-I made mommy cry!” Tears continued to pour from your daughter’s eyes, her face twisting into a look of pure dismay. Her misguided admission of guilt made you recoil, knowing full well it would grant her no favors with the person she seeking comfort from. “I’m really sorry daddy! I didn’t mean to!”

After several endless seconds of silence, Ren spoke.

“… You made her cry?”

His voice was far sharper than it needed to be, further agitating the precarious state of affairs. In most cases he would have offered your daughter leniency, letting her get away with far more than she probably should. However that leniency was null and void if you ended up suffering in the process.  Ren could not forgive anyone that caused you any duress (himself, of course, being the exemption) even if that person was his own flesh and blood.

“What do you mean you made her cry? What the hell did you do to her?”

“I-I don’t know,” she wailed, a fresh wave of tears spurred on by the accusatory tone of her father’s voice, “I just told mommy I thought her marks were pretty and then she started crying! I wasn’t lying daddy, I like them! I think they make mommy look really pretty!”

“Her marks…?” Ren’s look of vexation began to dissipate as the meaning of her words donned on him. He lifted his arm, rolling up his sleeve to reveal his own scars to the little girl. Pointing a clawed finger to them, he leaned down until he was looking her in the eye, “You mean like these?”

As she nodded her head vigorously in confirmation, Ren tutted, “That’s the reason for all the water works? An innocent compliment started all this fussing?” He scoffed, shaking his head, “Isn’t that a little bit… silly?

You tensed at the sound of his barking laugh, your frown deepening as an amused grin spread wider across his lips. You wished that you could say it was shocking for him to have such disregard after finding the two of you in such an agitated state, but it was painfully in character of him to shrug off your misery and suffering as inconsequential.  How he could so nonchalantly normalize this hellish situation he kept you and your child ensnared in, you would never understand.

Your daughter was apparently sharing similar thoughts, as her face began to once more morph into a pre-sobbing scowl. She was no doubt wounded that her father was not offering her the comfort she was seeking, her emotional state already greatly weakened by her mother’s venomous tantrum.

To help quell another round of tears, Ren pulled the child closer, wrapping her up in his arms so that her tiny form was nearly enveloped by him.  “Shhh, no more tears angel,” he cooed sweetly, patting her head gently to appease her, “There isn’t any reason to cry, especially because… Well, you’re right! Mommy’s whole body is pretty, isn’t it? Her marks just compliment the beauty that’s already there.”

Slowly but surely, her tears began to dissipate. Hunched over shoulders loosened, and sniffles and hiccups gave way to even breathing. Like clockwork, her father’s gentle handling soothed her, the same touch that destroyed you offering her salvation.

As if under a spell, the turmoil that had overcome your daughter quickly began to vanish, her sobbing fading into quiet sniffles. Once she was fully calmed, Ren continued speaking, “That’s all you meant to say to mommy, right angel? I’m sorry she took it the wrong way, she’s probably just tired or hungry, you know how mommy gets. She’ll get over it in no time flat!”

Heat spread through your body at his flippant dismissal of your feelings, an indignant blush lighting your cheeks as you gripped your hands tightly at your side. Your previous emotional episode left you all but drained, but your will to fight back against his callous commentary could never truly be contained.

“In fact, I bet she is already over it now,” Ren’s voice took on a jovial tone as he directed his focus solely on you, “Aren’t you, pumpkin?”

With the ball suddenly in your court, you flinched as both sets of expectant eyes fell on you. Your own eyes darted from Ren’s piercing glare, down to your daughter’s wide-eyed look of unbridled hope. You felt much like the rabbit that had been caught by the fox, stuck in a lose-lose situation. Seeing him hunched over her small body as she clutched to him as a life line, openly concerned that her mother may once more reject her while her father remained a bastion of strength and understanding, left you reeling. Either you would get heated again and stay the villain, but possibly hold on to an ounce of your dignity, or concede to Ren and have yet another piece of your soul wither away and die-the price to pay so that your daughter could remain in blissful ignorance for another day.

“Aren’t you, pumpkin?” He repeated himself slowly, enunciating each word. The kindness in his voice serving only as a mask for the threat buried beneath.

“Y-yes,” you responded quickly, shooting them both a smile you hoped was convincing, “I am very sorry, baby. Daddy is right. Mommy is just… tired.”

A serene smile lit her face, your words placating her. Seeing her happy once more helped relieve a bit of the ache in your own heart, making the lie worth it.

“Good, good,” Ren affirmed with a nod, carefully detaching himself from your daughter as he stood, “but you know little one, mommy deserves some love too, don’t you think? She may have been in the wrong, but it’s not nice to make her cry like that. Why don’t you go give her a hug, hm?”

With no further persuading necessary, she quickly padded over to you, hopping on your lap with so much enthusiasm that it nearly knocked the wind from you. Her arms tightly latched around your torso as she smushed her face into your chest, rubbing it back and forth like she was trying to burrow beneath your skin.

“I love you mommy,” her voice spoke clearly, any hint of previous sadness long gone. You sighed, relieved that this dramatic chapter was over as you pulled your daughter closer to you.

“I love you too.”

During this show of affection, Ren had made his way behind you, slinking so deftly you hadn’t even known he had moved until you heard him chuckle softly behind you.

“This is what I like to see,” he spoke with a sickeningly dreamy sigh, “nothing makes me happier than when my two girls are happy.”

He placed his hands gingerly atop your shoulders, trailing them down until they rested on your arms. His thumbs pressed gently against the marred skin, rubbing in a small circular motion in an attempt to subdue you. His claws grazed your flesh, uncomfortably scratching against you as they snagged against your skin.

He planted a firm and lingering kiss to the side of your head, pulling away just enough that his lips grazed the shell of your ear. “There really was nothing to cry about,” he whispered breathily, his words quiet enough that despite your daughters’ proximity, she would have no chance of hearing them. “It’s almost unfair how gorgeous you are, scars and all. But you must know that, right my sweet pet? I tell you all the time.”

Ren took in a deep breath, releasing it in a shaky sigh, “Seeing these scars reminds me of all we have been through, all that we share. They are a symbol of our bond.”

One of his claws pressed down sharply, a small bead of blood pooling around the piercing. Leisurely he began to drag his finger up your arm, a thin red line following in its wake. You shivered at the burning sensation, but deigned to give him any reaction further than that.

“Don’t forget pumpkin, these pretty marks are a reminder of my constant love for you.” He chuckled softly, peppering a few kisses to the back of your neck while his claws slowly sunk deeper, “And right now I am feeling  terribly sentimental, so for old times’ sake, why don’t I add a few more to remind you just how precious to me you are~?”

[natailiatulls07]

Princess Peach and Mario

Max Verstappen x female!reader

Summary - Danny Ric is hosting a hous party for Halloween and you've convinced Max to wear matching couple costumes

Warning - alcohol

A/n - It's the last halloween fic :(( I don’t feel all the best atm, it’s been a long week. I haven’t seen my bestfriend in a few months and she’s coming down next week so let’s hope that’ll help my spirits 🤞🏻

23 Halloween Season

-

“I look ridiculous.” I was pulling on my long white gloves when I hear my Dutch boyfriend complain. Turning to look at him, he was stood in front of our full length mirror with disgust on his face.

Unlike his usual attire of a redbull polo and dark skinny jeans, Max was dressed in a pair of Jean dungarees, red t-shirt and a red Mario hat. “You look great! Really suits you!”

My comment earned me a look of annoyance. Coming to stand next to him, I was dressed in a puffy baby pink mini dress paired with a small golden crown, matching white gloves and knee length shoes and my white air force ones.

We were Princess Peach and Mario, much to his dismay.

“Right, are you finished because we have leave now or we’ll be late” Max grabbed my hand, pulling me through the apartment making our quick exit.

Danny was hosting a big Halloween bash, and had invited us. As soon as we got the invitation, I set off to find us the perfect couple’s customer.

Of course, Max had tried to get us to go in separate costumes but failed miserably. Landing us amused stares from others in our apartment complex.

-

Walking into Daniels house, we both noticed that there was a bigger amount of people than expected. “It’s busy in here” I lean up to whisper in his ear over the loud music.

With a scowl on his face, Max nodded. His Mario hat moving along with the nod.

Max was about to reply when the host of the night made his way through to us. Greeting Max with a manly handshake and then giving me a small hug.

“I mean Y/n you out did yourself!” Daniel had been in on the couples costume we were wearing, and he was fully living for it. “So glad he actually agreed to it”

Whilst laughing together both me and Daniel turned to look at Max who was just stood there with the same scowl on his face. “I hate this” He grumbled childishly.

Danny’s high pitched laugh sounded over the loud music. “You’d look a lot more intimidating if you weren’t dressed like that buddy!”

“Whatever..” Max mutters under his breath as he fixes himself a drink before making my go to drink.

Danny was about to go greet other guests but not without quickly dropping one more comment to us. “Hey head up the stairs, there’s an area for close guest! Cheer up Max!” And he was gone.

Handing me my drink, Maxs hand found its place around my waist before leaning down to my ear. “Hey let’s head upstairs!” I nod in reply before he kisses my temple and leading me upstairs.

-

We had been the close guests area for about thirty minutes, Max was talking to Lando whilst I was making conversation with Heidi.

Daniel hadn’t considered the amount of close guests he had invited so there was limited seating, because of the limited seating I had ended up sat on Maxs lap. He had his arms secured around my waist.

“Girl I love your outfit!” She was dressed in tight brown corset over a lacey white dress paired with some knee high boats and a brown pirates hat.

Unlike me and Max, her and Daniel weren’t fond of couples costumes and everyone respected that about them. So that’s why she here dressed as a pirate whilst Daniel, who was sat beside talking to a close friend of his, was dressed like a cowboy.

“Thank you, how did you convince mister cold to wear matching costumes?” She chuckles whilst quickly sparing a glance over to Max who was getting teased by Lando.

“I seriously don’t know, fell for my charm I guess!” I joke to which I guess Max heard as he tickled my waist making me squirm slightly.

“Teach me your tricks” Heidi replies with a smirk on her face.

-

It was around 2am when me and Max decided to order a Uber back to our apartment. Max was more sober as he wasn’t much of a drinker and knew I wasn’t one to hold my alcohol well.

We had gotten back to our apartment, Max forced a glass of water down my throat knowing that I would thank him in the morning.

“Thank you for this evening!” I exclaimed loudly, Max quickly shushing me with a finger to my mouth.

“It’s okay schat…” He smiles softly as he starts to help me in getting ready for bed. “I love you, I swear I do but maybe no more costumes for a while”

I giggle cheekily. “We’ll see…”

-

Tag list - @ilovechickenwings @carlossainzwho @ipab @erikasurfer @soph1644

[ellieluvr420]

𝐆𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥

synopsis: A guardian angel getting wrapped up with the human she was supposed to be protecting, a double-edged sword bound to hurt. The memory of you, your calming presence in a time where everything was hanging in the balance haunted her. All she craved was to see you again. She was addicted, obsessed. She needed you in every way but you only appeared in her mind, you were never part of reality. You were her saviour, the blood running through her veins, all she wanted was you, that was all she would ever want.

TW: 13.6k words (be warned), SUICIDAL IDEATIONS AND ATTEMPTS, SPEWING OF GUTS (vomiting), DEPRESSIVE EPISODES

I highly recommend listening to this when it comes up in the fic btw!

divider creds

₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧   

It was quiet, too quiet, like any sound that would’ve filled the almost-silence had been annihilated, there was nothing but white for miles in any direction, so pure and untouched it almost covered the sinister behind it. Her eyes fluttered open and the hazy figure above her came into view, the only interruption to the vast, white nothingness.  

“W-where am I?” She croaked to the smiling, almost-glowing figure above her. Her eyes blinking open only made you glow more, like with each breath she took dragging her closer to consciousness, it brightened the golden energy radiating off of you.  

“Shhh it’s okay, you’re going to be fine. Don’t panic, everything will be okay. You need to be more careful Abby.” Your voice was melodic, a pitch-perfect harmony to her ears that echoed around her, bouncing off of nothing and hitting her ears over and over again. She cracked her eyes open just enough to make out your face, your shining, radiant face littered with golden speckles that almost resembled freckles. There were golden streaks throughout your hair that sparkled in a light she couldn’t pinpoint the location of. Your skin was smooth, like feathers running over her skin as you cupped her cheeks. It was as if the pain that ached and ebbed throughout her entire body was being sucked away from her through your gentle touch, your hands gently glowing and warming on her cheeks. Your face was streaked with tears, golden, shiny, iridescent tears flowing down your cheeks, juxtaposing the beaming smile of your pearly teeth, peeking out from the plump softness of your lips. You were so inviting, so comforting, she didn’t even think to panic, she just wanted to stay here with you. 

“Who are you?” 

“That’s not important, you’re almost there.” Your words were cryptic, enchanting, she hung onto every word, paralysed by the awe of your beauty. “Don’t waste this gift, Abby.” The last thing she heard you say before you leant down and pressed your lips to hers, exactly as soft as she imagined. You breathed life into her, breathed pure energy into her tired muscles, she felt her organs buzzing to life again, felt her body warm and as her eyes flashed open she was greeted by wings sprouting from your back, wings almost the size of you delicately flittering in the air before coming down and cocooning you both in their safety. The soft, white feathers tickling at her skin, her nerve cells registering every little flick.  

Her eyes fluttered closed again, the sound of you humming slowly causing her to drift off into sleep, pictures of you swarming through her mind, your voice still softly ringing in her ears until everything went black and all went quiet once again. 

“She’s waking up! She’s waking up, get the doctor!” A shrill voice compared to yours, it stung her ears and boiled her blood. There were bright lights seeping in through her slowly opening eyes but not like the warm glow that you exuded, harsh, fluorescents banging at her skull. She groaned as the pain that you had sucked away from her came rushing back but worse than she had felt it before. 

“Hello Miss Anderson, you gave us quite a scare, there’s going to be a bright light just relax.” Latex covered fingers dragging her tired eyes open and shining streams of light into her eyes, she gasped and groaned and then the fingers disappeared, replaced by a cool circle on her chest. She felt like she had been abducted by aliens with the way she was being poked and prodded but all she could think about was the image of you, kneeled over her, your warm hands cupping her cheeks, the feathered appendages shrouding her and enclosing you both in. The gold littered all over your appearance. She thought it was a dream, but it felt too real, her cheeks were still warm from your touch when she pressed a hand to them, a bruised hand. The sight of her hand and arm littered with scrapes and cuts, an IV in one, purple and black splotches replacing the ivory tone of her skin. She had been riding her motorbike one second and the next she was with you, all she wanted was to be with you again, the quiet calmness of your aura. But now she was here, in a hospital, head pounding and body throbbing with not a memory of how she had ended up here. 

“What happened?” She croaked, her voice hoarse and raspy. 

“You were in a crash, been in a coma for a couple of days. You really scared us, for a minute we thought we had lost you.” 

“My- my bike.” She whispered to herself, a Harley Davidson gifted to her by her late father. 

“Just focus on getting better love.” The nurse soothed but her voice was like nails on a chalkboard, all of their voices were because they weren’t yours. Had you been with her after the crash? Maybe her memory of you was just a hallucination created by her traumatised head, maybe you had been a person that came to her when she crashed. But you had kissed her, she felt the life being breathed back into her, the wings, your hands, you couldn’t be human, you were too perfect to be human. “Don’t try to move okay, just relax.” The shrill voice sounded again, she hadn’t planned too, she just laid there, shut her eyes and tried to take herself back to you. 

She slept a lot for the first week, only waking slightly when the routine checks were done on her, the morphine kept her lulled and comfortable, but it wasn’t the comfort she felt with you, so it wasn’t right. She stayed unconscious for almost all hours of the day, sometimes she was lucky enough to be graced with dreams of you, but they were never as good as the first time, never as real as the first time. The white of the landscape was never as white, the warmth of your hands was never as warm and the kiss of your lips against hers was never as soul-stirring. Sometimes she’d dream of her dad gifting her the Harley, dreamt of his heartbroken face at the news of it being destroyed. She’d always wake with a sob, a choked cry that constricted her chest and made it hard to breathe over the lump in her throat. She had cried for hours one night, restless from being laid up in bed and the slowly decreasing levels of morphine in her system making it harder for her to sleep, so she just cried softly, letting the tears roll from the corners of her eyes and into her hair. She felt hopeless, completely lost until a soft hand grazed her cheek, a hand radiating so much warmth, a slight glow catching in the corner of her hazy vision. Her head whipped to the side to see you sat on the edge of her bed, cupping her cheek with one hand, the other holding onto her hand that was closest to you, rubbing circles into it with your thumb. She stared, wide-eyed and dazed as you smiled, the golden streaks of your hair and the speckles littering your nose and cheeks sparkled under the harsh beam of the hospital room lighting. 

“It’s- It’s you.” 

“Shh, I don’t have much time, I’m not supposed to be here.” 

“I don’t unders-” 

“Abby, I need you to fight. I know you can, you need to fight to get better or you won’t. I know it seems hopeless, I can hear your thoughts, but it will get better. You’ll get better but you can’t give up. Please don’t give up.” Your voice was soft but firm and still it rang out like a symphony, the more you held her, the less despair ran through her veins. She watched as your hands glowed and tingled against hers, you were doing it again, taking away all her pain and anguish. Tears slipped from her eyes, and you came to ease them away. “Don’t cry now, you’ll be okay, promise me you’ll fight.” She couldn’t deny you, she couldn’t even think to deny you, the only thought bouncing around her sore head was that she’d do it for you, because you had asked her to. You smiled, it was radiant and gleamed like a diamond under sunlight as you leant down and kissed her cheek, leaving a burning spot of heat in your lips’ trail. “I knew you’d understand.” Her thoughts raced around her head at that, you could hear what she was thinking, her cheeks reddened, and she hid from your gaze knowing you knew what she thought of you. “I think you’re perfect too.” You whispered in her ear, your breath tickling her skin and causing goose bumps to raise all over her. With a final firm squeeze of her hand you were gone, she blinked, and she was all alone again, your warmth replaced by a cold that sent a shiver down her spine. You were gone as quickly as you came just like before and it only left her needing more, she craved you, craved your sweet scent, your loving gaze, your consolatory gaze. You were an angel, figuratively and physically, the fluttering wings on your back that were so big she imagined they’d drag on the floor when you walked were a testament to that. 

She felt lighter after your visit, even in your absence, she felt less weighed down by the resurge of grief for her father running through her veins, less panicked about the future and what’s to come, resilience replacing the despair. 

She learned she was hit by a drunk driver, that he got off almost completely unscathed while she was trapped in a hospital bed barely able to sit up on her own. She had extensive internal bleeding, a fracture to her left wrist, three broken ribs and a hefty concussion, he had scrapes and bruises, it boiled her blood until a quiet voice in the back of her mind told her he’d get his comeuppance when he was sentenced in court. It quieted the screaming rage flowing through her, dulled it down to a simmer and silently she thanked you, somehow, she just knew it was you, the voice of reason, of support. The doctors had said she was lucky, that a crash of that magnitude, on a motorbike no less, could’ve killed her, but the more they said she was lucky, the less lucky she felt. She was restless and aching to feel the breeze brush her hair over her skin and tickle her nose, she missed sunlight, natural, warm sunlight, especially now it reminded her of you. When she looked in the mirror for the first time since the accident she was horrified, her skin was pale, green and brown remnants of bruises making her feel like she was mouldy. Her cheeks and eyes were sunken in and the darkness under her eyes spread down to the apples of her cheeks, craters that she felt like she could fall into. Her hair was matted and frizzy, the grease in it making her want to chop it all off, she looked frail and weak and the complete opposite of how she typically looked. She could already feel her muscles decaying away, it was obvious to her when she looked in the mirror. Tears sprouted in her eyes, a choked cry caught in her throat as she pressed a shaky hand to her mouth but as she stared and grew to despise herself more, she remembered your words. I think you’re perfect too. You thought she was perfect, even like this, a fraction of what she used to be, you thought she was perfect. 

₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧   

When Abby was released from the hospital two weeks later, Manny coming to pick her up, she felt like she had been freed, she stood on the pavement just soaking in the sunlight, letting the breeze force goosebumps onto her skin, she would’ve walked home if it wasn’t for her injuries. Even in the car, she had her head out of the fully opened window like a dog, garnering strange looks that didn’t faze her in the slightest. She watched as people went about their daily lives, milling about, rushing to their destinations, she wondered if any of them realised how quickly life can be taken away, how in the blink of an eye what was once a life, a person, a soul could be shredded into nothing, a memory that would soon be forgotten in history. 

“You okay Abs?” Manny sounded concerned; she had never been this quiet before in the time he had known her. 

“I’m okay, just happy to be out of that prison.” He snorted at her words. 

“You would not survive a day in a real prison.” 

“I’d make prison my bitch.” 

“Sure, sure.” 

“Whatever.” She sniped at his sarcastic remark with a small grin. She looked back out the window and her heart hammered in her chest as she thought she saw you standing on the pavement, smiling at her, a quick flash of pure light, she spun in her seat trying to see you again as they whizzed past and groaned at the sudden, foreign movement. 

“What are you doing? You’re gonna hurt yourself.” 

“Jeez sorry dad.” He huffed. “Just thought I saw someone.” She muttered almost to herself, Manny blissfully ignorant as he hummed along to the tune playing through the car's speakers, she leaned forward slowly and turned up the music, ‘Heaven’ by Depeche Mode spilling out into the car. She never really listened to the words of a song, mainly liking them for the tune or their beat but as she listened to the lyrics they struck her, resonated with her, settled in her soul and entwined themselves with every part of you, making a home and laying in her to never be forgotten. 

Take comfort in my skin 

Endlessly 

Surrender to my will 

Forever and ever 

She didn’t hear the male voices singing the song, she heard yours, as if you were serenading her. She could picture you, hovering over her, cupping her cheeks and singing to her, the only people in the world were you and her, you had her entranced, trapped in her mind as she surrendered herself to you and all your virtue. 

I dissolve in trust 

I will sing with joy 

I will end up dust 

I’m in heaven 

Now she was singing back to you, a conversation in melodies, devoting herself to you, declaring her undying love and trust to you. The golden specks that dusted your face glistened and seemed to glow brighter, as did the streaks in your hair as your wings enclosed you both, you leaned in, hanging onto her every word, glowing brighter with each one. 

I stand in golden rays 

Radiantly 

I burn a fire of love 

Over and over 

You joined in, a siren song, hypnotising her, the words meant something different to each of you. Abby bathed in your light, igniting her love for you. You, the light, the sun, smiling as you sang about yourself though your face changed when you began the third line, golden tears shimmering over your cheeks. She didn’t understand why you were sad, but she couldn’t bare it, even the way you cried was beautiful, but it still struck her that you were sad. Why did her love make you sad? Was it her love you were singing about?  

Reflecting endless light 

Relentlessly

I have embraced the flame

Forever and ever 

You were quiet now, covering the sadness in your expression with a smile that didn’t reach your eyes. She was almost begging you to just sing with her, she just wanted to hear your voice. But you didn’t, you just gazed at her, she needed you to beam that addictive smile as she chanted how she would be yours forever, but it never came, you only cried more, flaxen tears falling onto her face, the shimmering catching in her eyeline. You pursed your lips, and let the tears fall, gently rubbing them into Abby’s cheeks with your thumbs, letting your tears rejuvenate her pale skin and give it a faint shimmer. 

I will scream the word 

Jump into the void 

I will guide the world 

Up to heaven 

Abby’s words had you shaking your head subtly, but enough that her eyebrows furrowed, confusion and fear written all over her face until your hands started to glow. You never let her feel a despondent emotion, always baring the weight of them so she would feel lighter. Her eyes fluttered shut, every muscle in her body relaxed, even when she felt the silky press of your lips against hers, there was no shock, just pure light rushing through her, her hand coming to cup your cheek and swipe at the tears dampening it. Her bottom lip nestled between yours as she gently sucked, colliding over and over again, her hand that was on your cheek coming to gentle brush over the feathers that grew from your back, they twitched under her hand, each one raising to lean into her delicate touch, a small gasp being swallowed by Abby’s lips before you pull away and retract your wings from her touch. You looked culpable as you avoided her starstruck gaze, swallowing a weep despite the tears still flowing down your cheeks. 

“What’s wrong-” She tried to ask you, but you weren’t there anymore, she was back in the car driving through Seattle with Manny on her way home. She was clutching at the feeling, the memory but it was slipping through her fingers with every second, confined to only her mind once again as she failed to will herself back to you. 

“Hey, Abby, where’d you go?” Manny’s voice sounds like a screech in her ears and she winced. 

“Huh?” 

“I’ve been tryna get your attention and you were just zoned the fuck out. You sure you didn’t fuck up your head?” 

“Oh, fuck you.” She forced a laugh, but it felt so foreign as she was haunted by the sorrow on your face. 

₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧   

It had been three months since Abby’s accident and despite her body slowly recovering, her mental health was dwindling. She hadn’t seen you since the car ride home from the hospital and it was killing her. She dreamt of you every night, but the dreams were never the same as her conscious encounters with you, the dreams were hazy and blurred, your face never fully coming into focus, the glow emanating from you never quite right.  

Abby was walking through the streets of Seattle, a slight drizzle pattering down onto her, she found herself going on walks more and more often, she was on edge not being able to train or work, every day she bared to look in the mirror she swore she was seeing her muscles slowly dissipate, she was shrinking before her very eyes and it scared her, all her hard work over the years being washed away in a matter of months, so she’d walk for as long as she could before her body ached and her lungs burned. Her earphones were blasting ‘Heaven’ on repeat at full volume as they had been ever since the first time she heard it, she prayed it would bring you back to her, but it never did. You had abandoned her and she was spiralling. She walked, her face angled towards the ground, until she noticed the pavement had been closed off ahead of her. She huffed and turned towards the road and as she went to step out, she felt a hand on her arm yanking her back. The second she looked up a large lorry rushed past her, fast enough she would have been flattened in an instant had she taken that step, her heart jumped and when she turned to face the person that had saved her from impending doom, she was greeted by your unimpressed face. 

“Didn’t anyone ever teach you to look both ways before you cross the road?” Her music was still thumping in her ears but she heard you perfectly, your voice cutting through all the background noise. She was awestruck as she stared back at you, she thought you’d never appear before her again, but you were standing right beside her, blurring the bustling city that raged on around you both. “You’re quite a handful you know.” Her cheeks heated under your pointed gaze as she willed her eyes away from you and to the ground. 

“Sorry.” She was ashamed, she had almost forsaken the gift you had given her, the one you specifically said not to waste and she almost squandered it because she was too busy being frustrated at road works and frustrated at you for wrapping her round your pinkie and then disappearing. 

“You’re lucky I like you.” She spared a glance at your face only to see the pearly white smile she had missed, that she had craved to see. “Your song was beautiful. You have a lovely voice.” She hadn’t noticed you sweeping closer to her until your breath hit her ear as you whispered into it before pulling away again to giggle at her stunned expression. 

“That was real?” She breathed out, it felt real, so real, when she had got home that day she noticed a faint shimmer to her skin but she needed to hear it from you regardless. 

“Well as real as it can be. I was there if that’s what you mean.” 

“Are you there in my dreams?” 

“Do you think I am?” Your question gave her the answer she already knew despite praying she was wrong. 

“I don’t understand. Why are my dreams different?” 

“I don’t control your dreams, they’re a product of your mind. There’s no need for me to be in your dreams so I’m not.” That look flashed over your face again, the same look she had seen when you pulled away from kissing her, guilt. She looked around to see if anyone was marvelling at you but no one was, no one batted an eye, so you weren’t really here, you weren’t in reality. If you were the wings that brushed against the pavement would have anyone stopping in their tracks, so only she could see you, part of her revelled in that fact, that you were hers and only hers, but it only reminded her more that you weren’t real, weren’t human.  

“Why did you show up in the car?” 

“I shouldn’t have.” You winced at the memory, the heartache that reverberated through you, it was an unfamiliar feeling, one that swallowed you, drowned you in its embrace. You barely glowed that week, the gold in your hair and splatter across your face was dull and lifeless. Your hands were colder than you ever remembered them being and your wings lost more feathers than you could count, you deteriorated as Abby grew stronger but to Abby you were as radiant as you had ever been. “I can’t stay, I’ve already been here too long. Stop wasting my gift.” 

“Wait, please-” Abby pleaded for you to stay, to make sense of all this for her but you couldn’t, you needed to lay down, you were tired and hearing her thoughts was only worsening your condition. With a blink of her eyes, you were gone and the music in her earphones was suddenly full volume again, her surroundings coming into focus, the constant stream of cars, horns echoing in the distance, the tall buildings that felt like they were caging her in, making her feel claustrophobic and short for breath, people pushing past her and mumbling about the weather, the rain had turned from a. drizzle to a downpour and she hadn’t noticed, hadn’t noticed her clothes clinging to her body as they became heavier with each droplet absorbing into them. She balled up her fists and shoved them into her pockets while storming home. She was tired, she just wanted to sleep, to see you again, even if it wasn’t really you. 

₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧   

Abby was lying on the ground, the concrete scratching her back, every inch of her throbbing, there were sirens and so many overlapping voices she could barely make out what was going on. She was utterly disoriented, and panic rose within her as she realised the familiarity of the scene, she looked to her side and saw her bike, completely savaged laying on the road in pieces, then a light caught the corner of her eye and she turned to face it with a smile. Your face greeting her, smiling shyly though there was something manic in your nature, the glow around you pulsing. 

“You’re here.” She whispered as a singular tear slipped from her right eye.  

“I’m here.” Your hands cupped her cheeks like they often did and you brushed your nose against hers. You had guarded so many humans in the eternity of your being but there was no one like her, nothing like her, she made you take risks that you knew could lead to your condemnation, just so you could see her, feel her, the light inside you entwining with her soul.  

“But I’m dreaming.” 

“I know but I missed you.” 

“You missed me?” 

“I always do.” 

“Why?” 

“You’re special.” Your voice rang out, a melody perfectly tuned for her ears. Your words sweeter than honey dripping off your lips, it made her crave your lips against hers again, the sweetness, the silky pillows that consumed her every thought. You beamed, her thoughts clear as day in your mind, each one more satisfying to the next, she was a risk, a threat to your existence but she was entirely too good to give up. You leaned forward and pressed your lips to hers, absolving her of the pain she felt the first time, light rushing through her until she opened her eyes and saw the same glow that emanated from you, encompassing her body. You pulled away to observe what she had seen, your eyes widening, the sparkly white of your sclera shimmering in the city lights. You had no words, you had made her glow like you did and it stunned you. “I- I have to go soon.” You squeaked as the glow around her dulled slightly. 

“Why?” 

“You’re going to wake up soon, it’s not safe.” 

“W-what do you mean?” 

“They’ll know I’m here if you wake up.” 

“Who’s they?” 

“Never mind that, stay inside tomorrow, there’s going to be a storm.” 

“H-” You hushed her before you could speak by pressing your lips to hers again, you were insatiable, never able to get enough of her, but never able to take too much, it was torture, a strange feeling blooming inside you that you had never experienced, you could never describe it, it just was, it festered inside you growing worse with every encounter you had with her, desperate for more, desperate for your undoing. Abby melted into you, hands coming around your waist to brush against the feathered appendages that were twitching and fluttering. Her gentle strokes over them only coaxing them closer to her touch, that same breathy whimper left your lips, floating into hers at her touch before you craned your neck inwards, your forehead pressing against her lips that puckered and painted the skin with flaxen prints in the shape of her lips, your skin her canvas and her lips the brush, her fingers came to graze against the skin between the wings, tracing the indent between them eliciting a squeak before you bolted upright, ripping away from her touch. You swiftly rushed a hand over her eyes, and she was trapped into slumber, dragged away from you until her eyes fluttered open and her bedroom came into focus once again. She sat up, noticing the faintest luminescence of her skin and the burning heat pooling in her cheeks. She pressed tentative fingers to her lips and smiled softly, you smiled too as you watched, listening to her thoughts.  

I miss you. Please come back. 

Her last sentence saddened you, she had no idea the risk you had taken to see her when she sang to you, you had to be more careful, you had to show restrain though it pained you. You had never felt pain before her, but even the pain you felt for her, it was still overshadowed by the ecstasy that cascaded through you in her presence. 

₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧   

Abby sat on her sofa reading ‘Oranges are not the only fruit’ by Jeanette Winterson, she had started reading it before her accident but hadn’t the energy or focus to pick it up since, her dream that you had visited her in was the sole catalyst for her return to it, suddenly feeling compelled to lose herself in the story. She only thought of you while reading, the sorrow in your features that day, your cryptic messages speaking of emotions long forbidden, how you kissed her like every kiss would be the last. Faint patters sounded against her window, starting softly, until they were repeatedly hammering against the glass, begging for entry, a storm, as you had said, a storm that made it hard to see in front of you from the torrential downpour and flurrying mist whipping up from the ground, the clouds closing in on the city, creeping further and further down as they blackened. It was five o’clock, it was always around this time when Abby would get restless, would spiral into a downfall of grief and panic, the uncertainty of her future, her lack of control on her life dawning on her, this was always when she’d leave the house in a hurry, desperate to escape the confines of her home that suffocated her, but she hadn’t today because of your warning, your captivating voice sounding in her head on repeat. It only made her crave you more, desperate to feel your touch, gaze upon your angelic face, taste the sweetness of your lips, she was tormented by her memories of you and her lack of control over when you came, though something clicked into place, you came to her the first time to breathe life back into her after her accident, you saved her from the lorry, you guarded her from danger, protected her and nursed her back to health, you were her saviour, she needed to be saved to see you. 

No Abby. 

Your voice, in her head, pleading softly, wrestling with the bellowing voices telling her to walk outside into the storm. She ignored you, she was determined, she slammed the book down and walked to her front door, slipping on her trainers but forgoing a coat, her hand reached for the doorknob as yours appeared, clamping over hers and dragging it away, interlacing your fingers with hers and tempting her back to the warm, safety of her living room. No matter how many times she drank in your features, the shock of your allure always silenced her, even the crease between your eyebrows as you frowned at her was entrancing, every golden speckle scintillating in its own rhythm, each feather quivering independently, your features had a mind of their own, each one alive as the next. Your hair swayed as if there was a gentle breeze as you led her back to her sofa. 

“Why would you do that Abby?” 

“I had to see you.” I needed you. Her thoughts weren’t as jumbled as they often were, the background chatter stifled to a gentle hum, you wished it wasn’t this way, that they were screaming and crashing over one another like waves in a turbulent tide but when you needed to not hear her sweet, painful thoughts, they were clear as day, titillating and tempting in the worst way. 

“You can’t do that, you can’t just conjure me up.” 

“But you’re here, aren’t you?” 

“You’re not being fair, I- We can’t do this, it’s forbidden, you can’t put yourself in danger to bring me to you, they’ll find out eventually, you need to stop Abby.” 

I don’t understand. 

“I know you don’t but you’re playing with forces that you cannot begin to perceive. Please just- you need to stop.” A glimmering tear fell from your left eye as both of your hands wrapped around the one you had been holding and delicately squeezed, the heat radiating from them causing her to look down and see the glow building between your soft flesh and hers. 

“Stop doing that!” She snatched her hand away as more tears built to a crescendo and streamed down your cheeks. “Y-you never let me feel the bad things, maybe if you did, I wouldn’t need you so much.” She snapped. 

“I-it's what I’m supposed to do.” You didn’t look at her, only your glowing palms that were dulling by the second, your voice meek and strangled.  

“And you’re supposed to come into my dreams and kiss me, sing to me, let me touch you?” 

“I shouldn’t have.” You said it so bluntly, it tore through her, caused her more pain than she had felt after her accident, and she knew you felt it too by the way you instinctively reached out for her. Her step away from you causing you to retract more as you silently wept. How could someone make crying such a beautiful action, mesmerising in its own cruel way. You were right, it wasn’t fair, to be faced with such radiant heavenliness and not be able to have it, it made her angry, the rage boiling up inside of her, making her skin tingle as her nostrils flared. 

Go. Her eyes clamped shut as she turned her face to the floor and when they cracked open, she was alone, the hammering of the rain the only sound in the room. She had quietly hoped you’d stay but her blaring begs for you to leave overshadowed that small glimmer of hope and you were gone without a trace, the dull, lifeless room seizing her breath from her lungs and drowning her in the darkness she succumbed to when you weren’t there. 

She yanked the book off her coffee table and hurled it at the wall, a guttural cry escaping her lips as hot, salty tears raced from her eyes. She groaned at the pain in her abdomen as she collapsed to the ground onto her knees, nose brushing against the floor, she wished she had never seen you, never felt your touch, that she had died in that accident because anything would have been better than the agonising torment she felt in this moment, she prayed for the sky to collapse on her, crush her under its thumb into dust, disintegrate her soul into nothing if it meant she never had to feel again. She stayed on the floor all night, curling into herself and passing into slumber that only tormented her still. 

₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧   

You were so close to her yet so far, just out of arms reach though she could never catch you no matter how she chased. She stumbled and tripped but she never stopped pursuing you. You didn’t run, you weren’t frantic like she was, you sauntered and swayed away from her, your twitching wings dragging behind you leaving a trail of feathers in your wake, more and more detaching and floating to the ground the further you walked until there were no feathers left, only the bare bones of your wings, they curled round you and you stopped, Abby’s feet being glued to the ground despite her futile efforts to free herself and close the distance.  

You let out a bloodcurdling cry, the depths of despair heralding from within you. It couldn’t be described as a cry, you were wailing and shrieking at the sight of your naked wings, your whole body trembling and draining of its iridescent shimmer until it was a pale grey. The sand under Abby’s feet grew cold, froze under her sending excruciatingly bitter chills through her body, her teeth chattered as her body shivered. Her limbs slowly growing numb as a swarming storm gathered above her head and unleashed its wrath upon the beach she found herself on. The waves that were once calmly lapping at the shore lashed at her legs, icy assaults on her that were unwavering and only increasing in their power, she could barely stand against the force of them, fighting to stay upright until she was knocked into the sand that stuck to every inch of skin it found. She called out to you as the water engulfed her, choking her with its fury, her calls to you deafened by the indignation of the landscape. 

“DON’T YOU SEE WHAT YOU’VE DONE?” You howled at her, finally facing her and displaying the gushes of thick, red pooling from your eyes and dripping down your neck, painting your figure crimson. You bawled as you collapsed onto your knees and lifted your face to the sky. Your scream thundered, echoed into nothingness as lighting struck down all around you both. Abby coughing and spluttering as the water invaded her lungs and froze her from the inside out. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!” She called between torturous breaths, but her apologies fell on deaf ears, the claret pouring from your eyes harder. The last thing Abby saw was your decaying body stained with blood, your ruined wings curling around yourself as you begged for redemption, your face blurred and distorted before the water pulled her under, her consciousness being ripped away from you and sending her tumbling into the darkness of the never-ending ocean. 

₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧   

Abby woke with a gasp, clutching at her throat as she desperately tried to force air into her lungs, her body burning from the memories of her dream, the pictures still playing on her mind in a loop. The rain hadn’t cleared, it had only worsened, relentlessly pounding against her window with a might. She groaned and stretched her aching body before standing and rushing to the shower, she was trembling like a leaf in the wind, her skin cold to the touch, she turned the dial to the hottest it would go and waited the interminable minutes for steam to waft into the compact room so she could force herself under the burning waterfall and draw the warmth back to her skin. She let the shower muffle her sobs as she fought the nausea squeezing at her insides until it became too much, and she leaped towards the toilet to violently empty her guts into the bowl. Each hurl racking her body more, her throat stung and clenched causing her to gasp for breaths as tears flowed freely from her eyes. Her head throbbed and her vision was pulsating as she slammed herself against the wall pressing her face into her hands. Every feeling, every emotion, every sound and sight felt so real, she couldn’t shake the pounding of her heart, it was punishment, her punishment for banishing you so harshly that now when she needed you the most you were nowhere to be found, she strained to hear your comforting voice in her head but there was nothing, only your deafening wails. 

Please come back. I need you, I’m sorry. Please come back. 

You didn’t, you stayed hidden from her, hiding in plain sight, observing with matching tears, your hands itched to reach for her but you couldn’t, you kept them wrapped around you tightly, embracing yourself to keep from embracing her, the glow emanating from you barely a shimmer. 

₊.˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧   

It had been three days since Abby had seen you, since she had viciously lashed out at you, every time she pictured it, your downturned face barely hiding the scintillating tears, each time she recalled it she only imagined herself as more and more cruel. Manny picked her up to take her to physiotherapy and failed to hide his shock at her dishevelled state, looking her up and down with wide eyes filled with concern, she noticed a flash of pity though he was better at hiding that. 

He kept sneaking glances at her in the car as she remained quiet and still, never looking away from the window where rain continued to pour as it had for the past three days, tumultuous reminders of that day and the hell that followed her into her dreams. She had had the same nightmare every night, stuck in an endless loop that sent her straight to the bathroom to throw up until her head felt like it would explode. She barely ate anymore knowing it would all come straight back up in the morning, she was deteriorating, and you watched, you always watched.  

The opening notes of ‘Love Will Tear Us Apart’ by Joy Division played, the upbeat tune a sardonic juxtaposition to the words that she found herself relating to in a way that made her so ashamed she wanted to shrivel into nothing. She bit at her cheek and willed the tears to stay in her eyes until the song finally ended after a harrowing three minutes and twenty-six seconds, breathing a sigh of relief as the song faded to quiet. Her muscles relaxed until the opening notes of ‘Heaven’ by Depeche Mode started playing and she felt like the wind had been knocked out of her. 

“Hm that’s weird.” Manny’s voice broke through the ringing in Abby’s ears. 

“What?” She questioned, snapping almost. 

“This song isn’t on this playlist.” Her throat closed and her vision blurred, her fists clenched until her knuckles turned white, her lip bitten into so hard she tasted the iron of her blood. She focused on the road ahead, pleading her vision to refocus. The second it did though, she clamped her eyes shut again as she noticed a golden, glimmering hue to the rain, reflecting the minimal light the way your tears did, the sound of your sobs deafening her. She lunged forward and pressed the skip button as the familiar tune only acted as a backdrop to your wails, the lump in her throat making it hard to breathe. Manny shot her a look at her odd behaviour that made her feel like she was under a microscope. 

“I hate that song.” 

“Damn, it’s so good, you’ve got bad taste.” He quipped with a snort. 

“It’s depressing.” Her voice was gruff and strained, she barely sounded like herself, she just needed you to make everything feel okay again, but you were only sending her reminders that you wouldn’t do that, you couldn’t. 

Please come back. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. 

₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧   

It was the same every day, wake up with a choked sob, a gut-wrenching despair and panic nesting within her, throw up until she felt like she had purged the memories of her sleep, though they never really went, wallow in her pit of sorrow until the sun went down and sleep would take her again, sometimes she’d force food down her throat when her stomach cramped and she could barely stand without dizzying, the never-ending downpour barely noticeable anymore. Manny called to check in on her, so did Nora but their calls went unanswered as she degenerated into a state of depression that was so deep, she no longer saw an escape, the darkness closing in on her without your light to guide her through. She had been like this when her father passed away but now she realised you were guiding her out of it, slowly baring the weight of her grief, now she was all alone, left to fend for herself against an enemy she cannot fight. 

She sat at her breakfast bar pushing around some food with her fork, failing to force herself to eat. It felt like too much effort, everything felt like too much effort, breathing was too hard, sometimes having to remind herself to, sometimes choosing to hold it until her vision blackened around the edges and she felt lightheaded, her body throbbing. 

You need to eat, Abby. 

Your voice, your perfect but melancholy voice echoing through her head. A tear sprung from her right eye before more fell until there was a waterfall streaming down her cheeks, pure, unfiltered relief washing over her that you had you had come back, even if it was to scold her, it was something. Anything was better than the radio-silence she had been subjected to for the past week. 

“I missed you. I’m sorry.” She whispered, her voice cracking and nasally. She waited for a response, her food went cold waiting, the clock on her kitchen wall counted three hours that she had waited, frozen, for you to say something before she dragged herself back to her room, the small amount of food she had pushed down in the hopes it would bring you back, irritating her stomach and aching inside of her.  

She laid in bed, sleep never taking over her body, still wide awake at three in the morning. The repetitive ticking of her clock driving her further into insanity until she sat up, she felt like she was watching herself from outside of her body as she floated from her bed to the front door of her home, slipping on her trainers and exiting the deafeningly quiet home into the unforgiving storm that had raged for a week without relent. 

She watched herself walk and walk, all the way to Discovery Park on Puget Sound, where she stood at the edge of a cliff as the sun began peaking over the horizon casting everything in a warm, orange hue. The front of her trainers hung over the edge of the cliff, the vertigo-inducing height spiking her heart rate. Heights had always been her main weakness, sending her into a panic attack that had her heart palpitating, but the fear was quelled to a mild discomfort, her only thoughts you and the possibility of her seeing you again. The wind whistled past her ears as her drenched clothes clung to her diminished body. The view was other-worldly, the rain, glowing in the sunlight that barely passed through the dense, almost black clouds, she admired it, took in the view for the last time before she took a step. 

Before she could topple over the edge, a pair of hands wrapped around her torso and yanked her back, landing on top of someone with a force that knocked the wind out of her. 

“What the fuck-” She cursed as she squirmed in their grip to turn, immediately falling quiet at your resentful face glaring back at her. “You’re here.” 

“Of course I’m here-” You were cut off by her lips pressing against yours with a fervour, igniting a fire in her that had long since been extinguished to ash.  

“I’m so sorry, please take it away, please I’m begging you.” She whispered onto your lips, but your hands were already on her cheeks, glowing brighter than they ever had, like there was fire in your palms, embers of flaxen glittering on your skin that was radiating more with each passing second.  

“Thank you.” She breathed out as a single tear fell from her right eye. You didn’t speak, too focused on unburdening her from the darkness that had loomed within her, so she leant forward and kissed you once more, a tender press of her chapped lips against your silky ones that took the last of her sorrow away. “I- Can you lay with me?” She noticed the hesitation painted over your features, panic rising in her. “Just for a little while.” You flashed a tight-lipped smile before nodding curtly, allowing Abby the comfort of resting her head on your chest and sighing as your arms and wings alike wrap round her, cradling her. She listened for your heartbeat, something that had always soothed her when she’d hug her father but there was nothing, dead-silence within until you giggled, the sound louder than thunder.  

“I’m not human Abby, I don’t have a heart.” 

“So what are you then?” You were physically holding onto her, you had physically dragged her back from the ledge, but you didn’t seem to have a body. 

“Pixie magic and fairy dust.” You replied monotonously, a snort erupting from Abby at your sarcasm, it shocked her to hear it, you seemed too pure for sarcasm, it sounded strange coming from your lips. “I learnt it from you.” You answered her thoughts, the sentiment making her beam. 

“Of course you did, but seriously?” She prompted you to give an honest answer to her question, desperate to understand more about you. 

“I’m an amalgamation of light.” 

“That makes sense.” She muttered eliciting a chuckle from you.  

I’ve never met anyone that comes close to your beauty. 

“So do you do what you do for me with other people?” 

“No, you’re my only one. I’ve had other people since I’ve been around since the creation of light, but you only ever guard one at a time. You humans are a handful. Especially you.” Your feathers fluttered against her skin, knowing she was your only person filled her with joy, your feathers responding to that surge.  

“Did you play Heaven in Manny’s car the other day?” 

“Yes.” 

“And the rain?” 

“That was me too.” Your voice had a sadness to it at admitting your part in the rain, if only she knew all the tears you had shed, although part of you knew she did. 

I missed you. 

I missed you too. 

With that, Abby sunk into a slumber that her body desperately needed, sinking into you and the warm embrace you enveloped her in, your wings acting as a blanket as the clouds cleared and the rain slowed to a drizzle until it stopped altogether allowing the sun’s bright glow to cast over the cliffside, illuminating the scenery to its full vibrancy. Nature springing to life and thriving as birds sang and a gentle breeze whistled through the long blades of grass you were situated on, resting both your weary bodies, your souls entwining and patching one another’s up. 

₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧   

Your hand enclosed in hers, sand stretching for miles and enveloping her feet with every step you both took, warm, golden sand that mingles with the crystalline waves at the shore. The beach, but different, calm. She looked behind her to only see one set of footprints, hers but there was no trail of feathers following yours, your wings were plump and teeming with life as they twitched and quivered. You left no trail, weightless. It made her panic that you weren’t actually there and her hand that was wrapped in yours glowed, beamed with heat. She was entranced, just as much as the first time you did it until your free hand came to cup her cheek and pull her face up to meet yours. 

Your incandescent face that was explicit, every flaxen speckle, every lustrous strand of hair in complete clarity, the softness of your lips obvious just from looking at them. 

“I wanted to show you the beach how it’s supposed to be, I thought it might help your nightmares.” Your dulcet voice echoes, hits her ears over and over again. Your eyelashes that had sprouted golden spikes entangled with the others, fluffy and flittering as you beamed at her, the bright, blazing sun reflecting off of you and sending refracted light scattering around you both the way a disco ball would. 

“It’s so beautiful, you’re so beautiful. I was so w-” 

“Shh it’s okay, it wasn’t real, you know that, it wasn’t me there, it never has been. Your subconscious is a mean place, torturing you with things it knew would hurt. But I’m here now and isn’t it breathtaking?” You gestured to the serene landscape around you and she smiled in awe as she nodded. The sky was a pallet of pinks, oranges and purples. Clemetine stretching across the expanse to be occasionally laced with lavender etching itself into the sky with cherry blossom intertwining. Clouds that resembled candy floss few and far between. The breeze was warm, pressing ticklish kisses to Abby’s nose, caressing her face and running its fingers through her hair. The water that lapped at their feet completely translucent, the foam accumulating from the gush of waves the only colour that wasn’t. The water was cool but in a way that provides respite from the heat enveloping itself around you both. “Do you want to go in?” Your voice drew her out of her spell that the beach had casted to nod apprehensively at you, haunted by the memories of her previous encounters with the water. You released her hand to walk into the water, the creamy white gown that always cloaked your body dropping to your feet and laying abandoned as you saunter to the sea. Your form hidden by the cover of your wings.  

Abby rushed to the button on her jeans but when she looked down she was already bare, exposed to your eyes that flashed over your shoulder with a small wink full of mischief. She followed after you, desperate to feel your skin on hers again but when your wings flapped, each feather rippling in sync before the wings rose to the sky, unfolding like delicate gossamer, your feathers catching the light as they stretch toward the heavens revealing the silky smoothness of the sparkling skin that encases the curve of your back, the plump roundness of your behind, sculpted by the heavens themselves. Your leg stretched and crossed over one another as you swayed to the water until it concealed you from the waist down where you turned back to her, beckoning her in with you with a wave of your hand. 

She rushed towards you until she was stood inches away from your naked form, both drinking each other in, every curve, every line, every crease. Abby’s cheeks heated at the gesture until you slipped your hand in hers and walked her further in until she could no longer touch the floor of the ocean. You wrapped your legs around her waist and she felt entirely weightless, your wings that were held high above the water and flapping gently in the wind letting her float effortlessly.  

Her hands brushed up and down the expanse of your back, tracing every inch, committing it to her memory until they landed on your waist running up the smooth skin of your stomach, stopping just under the supple flesh of your bosom. You gently guided her hand upwards to palm them, nodded at her to say it was okay and gasping at the subtle squeeze of her fingers moulding the soft flesh like clay. Her thumbs dragged over your perky nipples and sent shockwaves through you, your wings mimicking the excitement evident in your features, the quiet huffs that escaped your perfect lips drawing her in to press against them. The kiss was heavy with need, your lips parting to let her tongue collide with yours, to savour the saccharine honey that invited her in more. Your chest arched into her touch, pushing closer together as a hand came to your back, right between where your wings grew to push you in closer to her. It was tender, unexplored territory being tread lightly, your bodies floating on the same rhythm, each lap of your tongues painting a song made only for your ears. Your hands found purchase round her neck and brushed through her braid until her hair was freed for you to weave your fingers through and scratch at her scalp. Her lips left yours to litter your neck with kisses to your collarbones. Golden prints of her kisses etching themselves into your skin. 

You hummed, the vibrations rippling the water and flowing through Abby causing a shiver to run down her spine. “Come here we don’t have long.” Your voice guiding her back to your lips, relishing in their warmth. 

“I never wanna leave. Can’t we just stay here?” She whispered already knowing the answer. 

“I wish it were that easy. You make me feel something I’ve never felt before, so many things. Thank you, Abby. You’ve shown me what it feels like to truly exist.” Your captivating voice murmured before pressing her cheek to your chest and smoothing down her hair, subduing her to silence as her breaths became deep and rhythmic. 

₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧   

The sun poured into Abby’s bedroom, beckoning her eyes to flutter open, a smile plastered onto her face as she revelled in the comfort of her sheets. She didn’t remember getting home, falling asleep on the cliffside and finding herself back in the safety of her home that was brighter than it had been in the days prior. It was the first time she hadn’t woken up sick to her stomach in fits of hysterics. She pressed two fingers to her lips before licking at them slightly, your saccharine taste still lingering. Her hair was flowing freely over her pillows, and it shimmered slightly in the sun.  

She stretched within the comfort of her bed before walking to her kitchen to make some breakfast, the emptiness in her stomach twisting slightly and causing rumbles to echo around her quiet home.  

The sound of bacon cracking and sizzling interrupted the quiet, the smell wafting through the house and intensifying the rumbling of her stomach. She scrambled eggs and roasted some tomatoes util everything was ready for her to inhale, this meal being the first she had eaten to completion in a week.  

She hummed with contentment as the aching in her stomach subdued and the tremoring of her body that had become natural to her subsided. She brushed a hand through her hair and noted the almost-crunchy waves lacing through it, she wanted to leave it, as a reminder but it felt knotted from her sleep and dried as saltwater had always made her hair feel so she took to the shower to restore it to its silky condition. As she waited for the water to heat, she messaged back Nora and Manny, each message full of apologies for her disappearance and assuring them that she was okay before she clicked on ‘Heaven’ on apple music and jumped into the warm embrace of the shower. 

Memories of when she had sung to you interlaced with memories of the beach, every picture of your face deepening the smile lines around her lips. She could still feel your touch all over her like you had burned your fingerprints into her, she wished her skin showed your touch the way yours did, the outlines of her lips pressed into your skin, gold remnants shimmering under the sun. You were light, pure light and you exuded it in every sense of the word. She rubbed shampoo through her scalp until the salt was gone leaving only delicate, downy locks splaying over the expanse of her back. She treated the ends with conditioner and wove them into a bun at the base of her head while she rubbed her pine and cinnamon scented bodywash over her body, the pink under skin returning like it had never left. 

Her phone rang as she finished washing the conditioner out of her hair, so she reluctantly turned the shower off, scared to miss any more concerned phone calls. 

“Abby! You’re alive, I have some news.” Manny’s voice crackled on the other end of the line. 

“You got a girl pregnant?” She quipped. 

“Do you think I would sound so happy if I had? No, I’ve been talking to different mechanics about your bike and I’ve found someone who thinks they can fix it. She said it’s going to be a big job but she’s willing to try, she specialises in Harley’s. Want me to give her the go ahead?” A tear fell from her right eye as her body relaxed. 

“Yes, yes oh my god. I’ll pay whatever I have to if she can fix my bike.” 

“Okay chica, I’ll let her know and I’ll send you her number. You doing okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine, sorry for disappearing, you know how it is.” 

“That I do, I’ll swing by yours later with takeout, Nora’s dying to see you too so expect some company.” 

“Okay, thanks, I’ll see you later.” She hung up the phone as she laughed with relief, unable to comprehend that she might get her bike back, one of the last things her father had left her with before his passing.  

Thank you. 

She was sure, without a doubt, this was a gift from you, a promise that everything would be okay. 

₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧   

“Hi Alice! Oh, I missed you baby!” Abby cooed at the German Shepherd that was leaping at her, Manny and Nora standing behind smiling with takeout bags in their hands. 

“Nice to know you’re more excited to see Alice than us.” Manny accused with a quirk of his eyebrow. 

“I dunno why you’re surprised, you know she’s my favourite.” Abby quipped as she stepped aside to let them both in. Nora hugged her before squeezing her shoulders and taking in Abby’s features with an obvious look of pity despite today being the best Abby had looked. Her hair was down, partly hanging over her shoulders, the majority of it sweeping down her back, the left side tucked behind her ear. She wore a grey sweatshirt that hung off of her slightly now as her muscle mass had decreased since the accident with black baggy jeans that sat low on her hips. She looked well, just as buff as she typically did and she had come to terms with that fact until she could rebuild herself back to what she once was.  

“I missed you girl.” Nora’s voice was soft as she smiled. 

“Yeah I missed you too.” 

“We couldn’t decide on what to get for food, so we got chinese and thai.” 

“Even better.” Abby led them to the living room where they all settled on the sofa and began laying out the various dishes that had their mouths watering, the different aromas each complimenting each other and making Abby’s head spin with excitement. Alice crept into the room before pausing and growling at the corner where Abby’s TV wasn’t causing them all to chuckle in confusion. Alice remained planted in her place, her growls unwavering until she whined slightly and moved closer where she barked and her tail began to wag furiously. She nuzzled into the air, her tail wagging so fast she could’ve taken off into the air before curling up and dozing in the corner, her tail still wagging gently.  

“Did you put some treats over there what the fuck? She’s always glued to our side even if we don’t have food.” Abby didn’t reply, instead staring at the corner in awe, she noticed the slightest shimmer in the air, almost completely invisible, and smiled knowing you were watching, soothing Alice the way you did her. She could picture you scratching behind the dog’s ears and humming serenely.  

“Maybe she’s just tired of being around you fuck face.” Abby chuckled as she replied to Manny, the pink muscle of her tongue poking from between her teeth in a cheeky grin. 

“Whatever, I bring you food and this is what I get.” He reaches forward and turns on the TV to find something to watch as Nora and Abby caught up. 

“Oh my god I almost forgot to tell you. Mel’s pregnant.” 

“No fucking way, has Owen ran for the hills?” Abby laughed, the sound music to your ears as you observed her enjoying her friends’ company, it warmed you to see her embracing life again, going back to how she had been before the accident, before your entanglement with her, eased the ache within you, an emotion that you couldn’t describe subsiding slightly from the powerful blaze that had roared through you throughout the week. 

“No actually, he’s kinda stepped up, we were as shocked as you are.” 

“Wow I’m really happy for them.” She genuinely beamed at the news, excitement flooding through her for them until something ugly picked its way through the glow of her joy, jealousy. Jealous that she could never have that with you, that she could never grow old with you, that your paths were not fated to cross like two humans were. She waited for your hands to take the suffocating feeling away but you didn’t, you let her seethe and wallow as Manny and Nora laughed at the TV only interrupted by a quiet whine from Alice that had her head snapping in your direction and glaring. The room felt colder all of a sudden, emptier, Alice moving from her corner to sit by Abby’s feet and that was an answer enough, you weren’t there anymore, you had left her with these vindictive feelings gnarling at her heart. 

Abby stayed quiet for the rest of the night, speaking when she was spoken too but nothing more and nothing less, eager to keep her friends’ worried eyes off of her, to stop them from prying away at the walls she so painstakingly guarded. She eventually claimed tiredness and politely ushered them out the door with hugs goodbye and kisses to Alice’s nose so she could sleep in the hopes you’d visit her and tell her everything would be okay. 

But she didn’t dream that night. 

₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧   

Weeks went by without another dream, without even a nightmare, sometimes she found herself wishing for the nightmares to return just to get a taste of you, even the tiniest part of you, but nothing came, you never appeared to her, and her subconscious never conjured you.  

She checked in on her bike regularly with the mechanic, Ruby. She was beautiful, dark blue hair that turned electric in the sun, tight ringlets bouncing over her shoulders and framing her face. Her ebony skin was pristine and decorated with tattoos that sprawled over every inch that could be seen under her clothes. There were smudges of black over her grey tank top and overalls that folded over at the hip. There was no denying she was beautiful, but she wasn’t you. 

“Abby! Hey, thanks for coming, I’ve got exciting news follow me!” She hurried off to the back of the shop leaving Abby to follow with her heart in her throat at the thought of being able to ride her bike again soon. “I have worked day and night on this bike, she has been my baby.” Ruby squealed as she circled round the Harley standing in all its glory. “Come, hop on!” Abby hesitantly walks over to the bike and swings her leg over to seat herself, it almost felt foreign, she used to ride every day and she hadn’t in well over a four months now, almost two. “What? You forgotten how to ride?” Ruby giggled at Abby’s perplexion. 

“No.” Abby huffed before turning the key in the ignition and holding the start button with her thumb, the engine roared to life and her eyes widened until they couldn’t anymore before flicking to Ruby’s ecstatic face. “No fucking way! Oh my god, you fixed her!” 

“Oh yeah she’s running even better than she did before.” 

“Holy fuck, thank you so much, oh my fuck how much do I owe you?” Abby’s smile was hurting her cheeks as she turned the bike off and clambered off. 

Abby paid Ruby, a discounted price that ‘only the pretty girls get’ according to Ruby and hugged her for the magic she had so clearly worked. Abby was too excited about her beloved Harley being fully functioning again to notice Ruby’s obvious flirtation, though if she had noticed, she still would’ve shied away due to the mere fact that she wasn’t you. She was forgoing a beautiful human for an angel that she could never truly have, her heart clung to you even in your absence. 

She rushed back to the bike and let its powerful engine hum underneath her before she realised she hadn’t brought her helmet, half-expecting Ruby to tell her there was nothing she could do to save the bike when she had called this morning. Your face popped into her mind, the perfect scrunch between your eyebrows when you’d scold her for her recklessness, it was like everything became clear, you’d show up if she was in danger, so she’d put herself in danger. 

“Thanks again Ruby!” With that she was flying out of the garage and onto the streets, weaving in and out of cars leaving a cacophony of horns from disgruntled drivers in her wake. The engine revved and vibrated underneath her but it wasn’t enough, she couldn’t feel your soft guiding hand or see the subtle shimmer anywhere hinting that you were with her. You had still abandoned her. She revved the engine more and the wind whipped past her even harsher as she leant forward and took the bike as fast as it would go. Everything around her was a blur until she saw the blaring red light telling her she was about to smash straight into passing traffic. Her hand immediately slammed down on the brake lever, squeezing with all her might as she came to a squealing stop just ahead of the stop line. “Fuck that was close.” It was close and you still were nowhere to be seen, she had never felt so alone, the feeling ripping through her and tearing her heart to shreds. Her skin burned and her vision pulsed as the light flicked from red, to amber and then to green letting her speed off again with a different motive this time. She released all of her heartache, all of her rage into the bike, speeding through the smudged city until she arrived back at her home, seething that she was still in one piece, she wished she had been torn to shreds on that bike just to punish you for your silence. 

As she entered her home, rain began to trickle outside, then pouring and then hammering, it was a stark contrast from the bright sun that had illuminated her journey and Abby closed every curtain, shut every blind to shield herself from the sight of it. She clamped her headphones onto her ears and pressed play on her playlist setting it to the loudest volume to drown out the bombardment of the rain. She threw herself onto her bed and clamped her eyes shut, wrapping herself in the blankets to combat the eery coldness of her once toasty room.  

You could feel the resentment in her, the sorrow, the unfiltered anger, you could feel everything, she was tied to you, a spiritual tether that you couldn’t rip no matter how much you tried. You were stuck an endless lop of longing and distancing, a fight between selfishness and selflessness, a never-ending battle that you would never win. You felt her tears falling, your own cascading in tandem, your wings drooped and dragged, aching your back with an intolerable pain, whelping and wincing at their strain. They had never felt heavy like this before, always perched on your back weightlessly but now they were fighting against you, desperately trying to force you to the ground. 

You felt her drift into unconsciousness, felt the empty black void of her mind tormenting her, her subconscious laughing at her as her dreams lay dormant, never revealing you or the beach. 

You felt her pry herself awake, the nothingness becoming too much, felt the restless paces all over the house, the stomping steps reverberating through you. You felt her growl and shriek at the loneliness, a feeling you had come to understand in getting entangled with Abby, you had never felt lonely before, never craved what you didn’t already have, your role contented you but then she gave you a taste of something different, something human and now you felt lonely, drowning in your solitude. Selfishness or selflessness, a right and a wrong answer that got jumbled in your mind when you contemplated their meanings too much. 

You felt the hot water hit her skin, the bath full, almost overflowing as she lowered herself into it. The hiss of shock to her system that provided her the only comfort that even brushed what she felt with you. You felt her hold her breath, the water engulfing her as she anchored herself under it. You felt the miniscule air bubbles tickling her nose and eyes, her lips parting and letting the water invade her entirety. You felt her lungs constrict, deprived of oxygen, her heart quickening its pace desperately trying to keep her body alive. You felt the sting encompassing her organs as they functioned without their life source, the emptiness of her blood with only carbon dioxide to carry around in its stream. You felt everything, the fight between her body and mind, breathe, don’t breathe, let go, let the pain float away. You felt the determination, the decision that had been made the second she ran the bath. You waited and waited for her to relent, to emerge from the depths of despair but it never came, you waited for her head to spin and the light inside her to fade until there was no fight anymore because her mind had won. 

You moved quickly, dragging her body out of the water with inhumane ease and skill. You pressed your lips to hers, breathing light and life back into her before you compressed her chest in one powerful push that took every ounce of your strength. You felt the water rush out of her lungs, expel itself from her body, you spluttered as she did, water spilling out of your mouth the way it did hers, it burned your throat and it burned hers, but she wasn’t conscious enough to feel it. You felt everything for her.  

You waited for her eyes to crack open and the second they did you disappeared from her plane to hide in yours, still collapsed on the ground fighting for breath.  

She sat up, confused at first until she felt the hard, dry surface beneath her and noticed the bath next to her, water still rippling from the hasty movements.  

“I know you’re here! Stop fucking hiding from me!” She screeched, her throat swollen and voice croaky, a cough following her words as she struggled to her feet. “Are you fucking kidding me? Just let me die, you’re cruel for doing this to me and then stopping me from ending it. You’re cruel and vindictive, you’re a selfish bitch and I hate you! I wish I had died in that fucking accident so I never had to meet you!” She screamed. You felt it, the overwhelming feeling of betrayal, of rejection. You felt your own desolation, she was right, you had been selfish, what good did it do for you to be selfless now when you had already ruined her with your immorality.  

I hate you. 

I love you. 

She wailed, she screamed and cried because she didn’t hate you, she never could, she loved you just like you loved her but she had no control over the situation, she was a passive object of your love. She was your undoing and you were hers. 

Abby couldn’t breathe, she choked and hyperventilated over her tears until her cheeks felt bruised from the onslaught and her throat was raw. Something so perfect, so pure had bid its evil on her, dragging her into its arms and trapping her in a pit, strangled her with its love wrapping its claws around her neck and squeezing until it drew blood.  

The beach, it was a goodbye. 

It was a goodbye. 

It was a goodbye. 

Her thoughts swarmed and festered, repeating the same four words over and over, your voice merely echoing the thoughts.  

You can’t leave me, this is you’re fucking fault. 

She was right, you were to blame for her destruction, a being whose sole purpose was protection and you had destroyed the very person you had sworn to protect, demolished her heart, ripped her soul to shreds and then watched the aftermath burn and disintegrate.  

“I-I can’t do this anymore, I need it to stop. I need to make this feeling go away.” 

I need you. I need you. I need you. 

She crawled from the floor of her ensuite to her wardrobe, ripping open the doors and rooting around until her hands felt the solid, square shape of the shoebox she had shoved to the back and forgotten about. She dragged it out letting it clatter to the floor and tore open the lid, the way you had her heart. Her hands enclosed round the cool metal of the handle, and she relinquished the pistol that had been her father’s, the only one he had ever had. It had never been used, just sat collecting dust but it would get its debut now, its first and last shot fired.  

She checked the barrel and sighed when there were bullets in each slot of the chamber of the revolver, you shrieked at the sight of it until she placed it down again. She slipped on a tracksuit and ran downstairs to find some paper to write a note for Manny and Nora, it felt wrong to leave without even a poor explanation of why. She scribbled their names on the folded over bit of paper before walking upstairs and leaving it on the bed. She wasn’t frantic, her steps were calm and calculated. You watched her adjust her grip on the revolver and let out a sigh as she raised it to her head. 

“NO ABBY!” You let yourself be seen as you rushed towards her and knocked the gun from her hand. She grunted and shoved you away from her to scramble for the gun. “NO PLEASE DON’T!” 

“WHY? WHY DO YOU CARE?” 

“BECAUSE I LOVE YOU.” 

“NO YOU DON’T.” 

“I DO ABBY! I didn’t understand at first because I’d never felt it before but I know now, I love you, you made me understand what love is.” 

“I can’t keep living like this, I need to be with you.” 

“Doing this, killing yourself won’t let us be together Abby, it will only split us apart for eternity.” 

“WHY?” 

“If I fail to stop you from ending your own life I’ll be banished to live immortally on Earth. You’ll be dead and I’ll never be able to die. Please put the gun down.” Tears gushed down her face as she dropped the gun and collapsed to her knees, burying her face into her hands and wailing. You crept over to her and kneeled before her, cupping her face in your hands and looking directly into her eyes, a stare so strong she felt like she was being sucked into you. Your hands glowed but now so did your eyes as hers were transfixed. You felt the force of a thousand knives stabbing into you but you kept you gaze fixed on hers as you absorbed all of her turmoil, took everything away until it was a dull ache, she sat, completely numb until the glow of your hands and eyes, the glow radiating all around you flickered violently before dissipating completely. Your hands went cold and the colour in your skin drained. The golden strands of your hair turned black, and the flaxen speckles vanished as if they were never there. 

You felt weak, brittle and dark, the room blackening until only shadows could be made out. 

A sudden crackling sounded, a harsh, continuous crackling sounded until the room was lit up by the fire that had ignited at the end of your wings. Abby noticed it as you bellowed and bawled. You grabbed onto Abby’s shoulders with enough force to leave bruises in the wake of your fingers, curling into her, your body racking with indescribable pain.  

“What’s happening? I-I don’t know what to do. I’m so sorry.” Your tears no longer shimmered, they glowed red, deep, thick red as you screamed and wailed from the pain. It felt like millions of tiny explosions were being set off inside you, it felt like the end.  

“I-I think this is my punishment.” You whispered before meeting her eyes, the fear, the guilt, the inexplicable pain all shining through them, burying themselves into your soul, it hurt too much. You lurched forward and pressed your lips to hers harshly, rushed and passionate as you savoured it letting it coax you through the pain. You pulled away with a groan and pressed your forehead to hers.  

“I’m scared Abby.”  

“I love you. I’ll always love you, I’m so sorry, I love you.” 

“Don’t apologise, you made me feel alive. I’ll love you for as long as there are stars in the sky.” She pressed her lips to yours again, her salty tears settling themselves on your tongue as you licked at her lips begging to taste her one more time. Your souls collided as your lips did and as quickly as she felt you in her arms, on her tongue, in her head, you were gone. A pile of ash that faded before she could realise what it was. 

You were gone. 

[runraerun]

Billy with hanahaki disease ?🌸?

Pain!:’)

I love it! Here ya go🌸🩸

Fic prompts are: OPEN if anyone else is interested 💌 -> 📬

Tw; blood, slight body horror.

—

It started shortly after Billy moved to this shitty little town in the middle of assfuck nowhere. He chalked it up to the air quality being dogshit compared to California, or maybe he was allergic to that pungent smell of manure that the locals seemed totally nose blind to. The absolute last thing he would have considered was a goddamn plant had started growing inside of him–a love plant.

It was rare. You were only susceptible to it if you had a certain gene that you inherited from your maternal line. Lucky him.

Guess he can’t say his mom left him with nothing when she packed her shit up and skipped town. No, instead of a forwarding address, Billy’s mom left him her shitty, fairy genes. Thanks, Mom. Real swell of you.

“Has there been anyone you’ve had your eye on?” The school nurse asks, voice pitched low, gentle, like she was trying to soothe some kind of volatile beast.

Billy spits another mouthful of blood into the pan he’s holding, the crumpled up flower petals that he’d just finished hacking up look like chunks of his lung rather than a part of a plant. Runs his tongue along his teeth to try and fish anything out that may have gotten left behind in the carnage.

“No.” He says, stubbornly. He doesn’t look up from the pan.

“Well, Hanahaki disease can only take root under very specific circumstances. It feeds off a pheromone our bodies release when we experience a certain emotion; the stress of a love that’s unrequited. It’s the only–”

“I said no, alright?” Billy barks, voice still a little ragged from his coughing fit. Like he’d swallowed with a mouthful of gravel. “Get off my back.”

The nurse sighs, but she doesn’t move to stop him when he puts the pan down beside him and gets to his feet.

“It’ll only get worse if you ignore it, Mr. Hargrove.” She warns.

“Don’t fucking call me that.” Billy mutters, but he doesn’t have the energy to put any heat behind his words, so it doesn’t do much to wipe that stupid sympathetic look from her face. He grabs his jean jacket and leaves, shoving the door open with enough force that it slams back against the wall.

Despite his repeated denial, Billy knew who was responsible for this fucking mess.

Steve Harrington.

With his perfect hair and his stupid fucking Bambi eyes, lighting up every goddamn room he strode into with those long legs of his. Jesus… How could Billy ever have stood a chance?

Just thinking of him brought a tickle to the back of Billy’s throat. He suppresses a cough into his fist as he stomps down the hallway, now empty due to everyone else having gone home for the day. Except Billy, who of course couldn’t fucking breathe after gym class today after getting a little too rough with Steve.

It hadn’t been anything out of the ordinary, but something about the way Steve elbowed Billy away, how he barked at him to give him some breathing space, yelled at Billy to fuck off already—it had Billy’s chest acting up.

He held out for most of the class, fighting against the fucking petals that were pushing their way up through his fucking esophagus by beating at his chest, shouting to clear his airways, but then in the showers, Steve had avoided him completely. Had somehow managed to slip and out of the stalls without Billy noticing, depriving him of their usual naked back and forth banter that Billy had come to look forward to.

It was one thing for Steve to hate him, but it was another thing entirely for Steve to be indifferent toward him. That was way fucking worse.

The sting of rejection quickly turned to a coughing fit, worse than any he had experienced before. Like he’s hacking up a fucking lung. A few of the other boys had asked him, ‘you okay man?’ or, ‘should we get the coach?’, and worst of all, ‘oh shit is that blood?’

Billy was barely able to shove his legs back into his jeans and shoulder one of his classmates out of his way before he stumbled into the nurse’s office.

Fat lot of good that did him…

He’s gotta pick up Max. He can’t afford to hang around and talk about his pathetic, one-sided love with a complete stranger anyway. Billy leaves the school, gets into his car, puts the windows down and cranks the music as loud as he can stand it, and he tries very hard not to think about Steve and this ever growing thing that’s taken root inside of his chest, steadily consuming him from the inside out.

Christ, who knew he was such a fucking romantic…

[circinuus]

"Hey, Yoichi."

"Yeah?"

Isagi watches you grin. He can already piece the puzzles. Something is going to go very, very wrong.

"Come sleep on my lap."

He was right.

With a jolt, the poor boy grows frazzled. Wide-eyed and mouth agape. His cheeks redden like the blush of dawn you worry lest he overheat and plop down on the warm grasses.

Years of acquaintance with his sweetheart—his everything. Isagi corrects himself—don't seem to be enough to prepare him for this. For you. Call the boy the master of being adaptable, but there's something about you that never fails to surprise him.

"Aw! Come on~"

Pat pat.

You tap your upper thigh. No skin is exposed, no. But with you sitting on your knees, the light fabric of your midi skirt did nothing to shield the outline of your-

"Absolutely not!" he splutters, hiding the blooming blush with the back of his hand. The spring wind blows a gust of dandelions. Then he remembers that you were enjoying a nice picnic and each other's silence, just now. Him watching people—and stealing glances at you. A little—while you munch on a butter sandwich. Just now.

"Why not?" the sandwich is now long gone in your digestive system. And of course, you'll find something out of pocket when you have nothing in your hands.

"I saw some couples doing it on social media, isn't it cute?"

"I mean," he coughs, "it's really sudden, but.. if you're okay with it..?"

"Yes yes!" your hands clap, "Besides, you've been working so hard. I gotta spoil you, my little precious!"

Just like that, his face reddened again. Eyes flitting from your face, then to your lap. Then like a boy caught stealing cookies, they drift hastily to a space behind you. It's difficult to imagine. This is the same boy who throws violent insults on the football pitch like Santa giving presents on Christmas. Get you a man who can do both, they say.

"Well.." Isagi hesitates, but scoots closer all the same.

Pspspspspsps!

"Here! Here!" You pat your thighs again, perhaps a little bit too eagerly. With the spring tide clouds rolling by, Isagi finally rests his head on your lap. His hair slightly tickling you through the fabric of your skirt.

He was tense, yes, the sweet boy. But you slowly thread your finger through his dark locks, caressing the crown of his head. Who was he to resist against your touch? Isagi soon melts in your hold and relaxes his head in your cradle.

You close your eyes, content, and once again you both enjoy each other's silence. Another gust of dandelion seeds flew by. Your other hand reaches for his as you hum a small tune. Your thumb rubbing circles in the back of his hand.

"(Name), you're very pretty."

And then Isagi took his turn to surprise you, this time.

Looking down, gone was the bashful boy with a skittish gait. His eyes are of a deep shade of blue like the prettiest sapphire you could ever find. And he dons the expression of a boy who might be stricken by a deadly case of young lovesickness.

Maybe he is. Because he reaches for your cheek as you are both lost in each other's eyes. And maybe you too. Because you smile at the sweet words and let him guide your face towards his, enough for your lips to...

"Mwah!"

-Reach his nose!

Isagi blinks. He received a perfect little Eskimo kiss!

"You're such a tease!" his laugh melds with yours, still in the comfort of your hold. Then you make another of that radiant grin. The one that Isagi really likes.

"Only to you," you said. And the lovesick boy can only wonder how the universe has given someone as perfect as you for him.

Turns out he was wrong, after all. With you, things will always go very, very right.

I feel rusty it's been a while since I wrote something 😞 also first bllk fic in this blog :') things are getting out of hand and now im attached to these football nerds.

and isagi he is uhh canonically a thigh type of guy so...

[dreamingstraykids]

(I'm writing through a translator so my English is bad. Sorry) can I ask lee seungmin ler 4 members?(In your opinion, but I want there to be two older ones). Seungmin had a bad period when they started writing to him that his smile was ugly. And he started hiding it. The participants wanted to prove that she was a cow.

OPERATION SMILE ATTACK: THE TICKLISH TAKEOVER

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

This is a Tickle Fic. If u are uncomfortable, keep scrolling

t/w: Seungmin was pinned and tickled

Lee!: Seungmin 🐶

Lers! : Hyung Line (Bang Chan 🐺, Lee know 🐰, Changbin 🐰🐷, Hyunjin 🥟)

thanks for the request 🫶🏻 I hope u like it.

Note: Seungmin, ur smile is a Masterpiece. 🥹😍

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

t had been weeks since Seungmin started hiding his smile. The once confident, cheeky glint in his eyes seemed dimmer, and every time a joke or funny moment occurred, he would chuckle quietly behind his hand or turn his head away. It didn’t take long for his members to notice the shift. They know something is wrong.

Bang Chan had noticed it first, and soon, the others began picking up on it too. Seungmin's radiant, carefree smile had disappeared.

One night, after practice, the group gathered in the dorm's living room to discuss it.

"Seungmin's been off lately," Chan said, his brow furrowed. "He's not smiling like he used to."

"I've noticed," Lee Know added, crossing his arms. "Even when we tease him, he holds back."

Hyunjin sighed dramatically. "It's like he's afraid to show his teeth. What's going on?"

Changbin leaned forward, a determined look on his face. "I think we all know why. Those comments online... they were cruel. He probably saw them."

Everyone fell silent, their hearts heavy with anger and sadness. They hated how words from strangers could hurt their precious Seungmin so deeply.

"We need to remind him," Hyunjin finally said.

"Remind him of what?" Chan asked.

"How much we love his smile," Lee Know said, a mischievous smirk forming. "And I know just the way to do it."

————————————————————————————

The perfect opportunity came a few days later.

Seungmin was sprawled out on the couch, scrolling through his phone, completely unaware of the four conspirators gathering around him.

"Seungmin-ah," Chan called, crouching down in front of him.

Seungmin looked up, suspicious. "What?"

"You've been too quiet lately," Changbin said, sitting on the armrest.

"Way too quiet," Hyunjin added, perching on the other side of the couch.

Seungmin's eyes darted between them nervously. "What are you guys doing?"

Lee Know smirked, cracking his knuckles dramatically. "Just reminding you how much we love that smile of yours."

Before Seungmin could react, Lee Know lunged, his fingers wiggling against Seungmin's sides.

"HYUNG! NO! NO, NO, NO-AAHHHH!"

Seungmin's high-pitched scream turned into uncontrollable laughter as he thrashed on the couch.

"There it is!" Lee Know exclaimed, his hands mercilessly kneading Seungmin's ribs. "That's the sound we've been missing!"

"STOOPPPP! I'M GONNA DIEEEE!" Seungmin howled, his laughter echoing through the dorm.

"Nope! Not until we see that big, bright smile!" Changbin declared, diving in to tickle Seungmin's stomach.

"CHANGBIN HYUNG, PLEASE! АНАНАНАНАА!

I CAN'T!" Seungmin's legs kicked wildly as he tried to squirm away.

"Oh no, you're not escaping!" Hyunjin teased, grabbing Seungmin's legs and attacking his knees. "We're just getting started!"

"ААААНННННН! HYUNJINNNN! YOU

TRAITOR!" Seungmin screamed, tears forming in the corners of his eyes.

Bang Chan, watching the chaos unfold, chuckled before joining in. He grabbed Seungmin's arms, holding him in place as Lee Know switched to tickling under his arms.

"NOO000000! HAHAHA! NOT THERE! NOT THEREEEE!" Seungmin's voice cracked as his laughter reached new heights.

“NO, HYUNG! PLEASE! I CAN’T—AHAHAHAHA!” Seungmin’s pleas were cut off as Chan joining Lee know am and tickled his underarms, sending him into a whole new level of hysterics.

"Your laugh is so cute, Seungmin-ah," Chan said, grinning down at him. "How could you ever hide this from us?"

Changbin, laughing at the chaos, grabbed Seungmin’s legs and tickled the backs of his knees.

"I HATE YOU ALLLLLL! HAHAHAHAHA!"

"No, you don't," Lee Know teased, tickling his sides even harder. "You love us, just like we love your smile!"

Seungmin saw Hyunjin settling down near his legs, a mischievous grin lighting up his face. The others were already overwhelming him, and he was struggling to keep up with the relentless attack on his sides and stomach.

"HYUNJIN, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"

Seungmin screamed, his voice going up an octave as he tried to wriggle away.

"Oh, don't mind me," Hyunjin said casually, grabbing one of Seungmin's ankles and holding it firmly. "Just adding a little... extra fun!"

"NO, HYUNJIN, DON'T YOU DARE!

Hyunjin take off socks and start skittering his fingers across the sole of his feet, and that was it.

"АААААННННН! NOOOOO! NOT MY FEET!

АНАНАНАНА!" Seungmin exploded into laughter, his body twisting and flailing like a fish out of water.

"Oh, this is gold!" Hyunjin cackled, focusing on the arch of Seungmin's feet. His fingers danced up and down, hitting every sensitive spot with precision.

"HYUNJIN! STOP! STOOOPPPP!АНАНАНАНА!"

"Your feet are ridiculously ticklish, Seungmin-ah," Hyunjin teased, dragging his nails lightly across the pads of Seungmin's toes.

"NO000000! HYUNJIN, PLEASE! NO MORE! AHAHAHAHA!" Seungmin's voice cracked as Hyunjin repeated his attack, this time focusing on the ball of his feet and the space between his toes.

Meanwhile, Lee Know took advantage of the distraction to tickle Seungmin's sides even harder, and Changbin was relentless on his stomach. Bang Chan still held Seungmin's arms above his head, giving occasional pokes to his underarms to keep the chaos going.

"OKAY, OKAY! I'M SORRY! I'LL SMILE! JUST STOOOOOPPPP!" Seungmin's face was bright red, his cheeks aching from the laughter.

Finally, the tickling subsided, and the members pulled back, laughing themselves at the sight of Seungmin sprawled out, panting and giggling uncontrollably.

"There it is," Lee Know said softly, pausing for a moment. "That smile. It's beautiful, Seungmin-ah."

Seungmin's laughter slowed as he looked at his members, their faces full of love and affection.

"You really mean that?" he asked, his voice small.

"Of course we do," Chan said, pulling him into a hug. "Your smile lights up the room, Seungmin. Don't let anyone take that away from you."

————————————————————————————

After the tickling session, the members made sure to shower Seungmin with affection. Lee Know fetched a blanket and draped it over Seungmin, while Chan handed him a glass of water.

"You okay, puppy?" Changbin asked softly, sitting beside him and ruffling his hair.

"Y-Yeah," Seungmin managed between breaths, his voice hoarse from laughing. "You guys are insane.

Hyunjin sat beside him, holding his hand. "You know, l've always envied your smile. It's so genuine and pure."

"You're the sunshine of the group," Changbin added, patting his knee.

"And no matter what anyone says," Lee Know said firmly, "We love you exactly as you are, and your smile is one of our favorite things in the world."

Seungmin's eyes glistened with unshed tears, but this time they were from gratitude. "You really mean that?"

"Of course," Chan said firmly. "Don't ever listen to those haters. Your smile lights up the whole room."

Hyunjin hugged him from the side. "Promise you won't hide it anymore?"

Seungmin felt tears welling up, but this time they were from gratitude. "Promise. Thank you, hyungs.

A small smile breaking across his face.

Bang Chan ruffled his hair. "That's our Seungmin."

That's more like it!" Changbin cheered, pulling him into a group hug.

The night ended with the five of them huddled together, sharing stories, laughs, and love.

Seungmin felt lighter than he had in weeks, surrounded by the people who cherished him most.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

[skzdiary]

~Reassurance~

lee! seungmin

ler! channie

n/a: this is a tickle fic, feel free to scroll if this is not your cup of tea! 😭☕️

tw: nothing! only soft tickles 😮‍💨🙏

in the studio, chan and the staff were busy creating the music tracks for their new album “HOP”. They’re deep into the recording process for “U (FT. TABLO),” working together to fine-tune every detail of the track. The studio is a flurry of focused energy as the team collaborates, running through the song’s layers and adjusting elements to perfect the sound. Each take is met with feedback, fine adjustments, and a shared commitment to bringing the song to its full potential, with their lovely leader at the helm, ensuring everything aligns with the vision he has for the track.

In the recording booth, the talented puppy sang his parts of the track, nailing each note on time. eventually seungmin came to the verse “All i want is U” and struggled to get the right tone and pitch.

seungmin: “hyungggg, i can’t do it! it’s too difficult!”

minnie groaned because he wanted his lines to be to perfect and bang on right. it was difficult as the verse was so low, not his the way how he usually sings. His hyung tried his best to encourage the younger to try his best.

Channie: “don’t worry minnie, you’re doing great, just try to sing it more with a calmer tone and add try to bend where it says “..is U.”

After numerous tries the vocalist just couldn’t get it correctly how he wanted it to be. He felt a prick of tear trying to escape his eye. Why can’t i do it correctly? he thought to himself. Seungmin walked out of the recording booth and stood at the coffee table overviewing his lines on the paper he analyzed earlier.

Staff: “i think why you are going wrong is because when you get to the part of “..is U”, you keep forgetting to bend it which is making it more difficult to maintain without it sounding off pitch.”

The puppies eyes lit up with realization as he had been struggling this whole time due to one little error that he could simply correct. Minnie gets a tiny bit embarrassed and covers his face smiling into his hands. The elder starting laughing at his cuteness and pulled him onto his lap hugging his waist.

Chan: “See, what did i tell you? I told you to bend the last 2 words you dummy!”

The wolf playfully and mischievously pulls minnie into a ticklish hug. Seungmin bursts into laughter, squirming as he tries to wiggle free, his face lighting up with amusement. Bang Chan grins, his voice light and teasing: “I told you so,”

he says with a playful tone, continuing to gently poke at Seungmin’s sides, knowing exactly where to target to make him laugh uncontrollably. Seungmin laughs harder, protesting between breaths,

Seungmin: "Nohohohoho! This is sohohohoho unfahahahair"

He tries to push Bang Chan’s hands away, but his efforts are futile, his laughter only growing louder as he squirms more.

Seungmin: “Plehehehease, it’s sohoho bad! I’ll kill yohohohou"

The vocalist manages to say, still caught in the playful onslaught. Bang Chan chuckles, his hold on him tightening just a little.

Chan: “I’d like to see you try,”

he teases, clearly enjoying the moment of lighthearted mischief. Seungmin, unable to stop laughing, gives up, letting himself relax in the embrace, his cheeks flushed with the joy of the moment. The staff laugh finding the scene between the 2 cute. Unexpectedly, seungmin felt another pair of hands softly raise his arms above his head with one hand holding then in place whilst another crawled its way to his underarms.

Seungmin: “yahahahaha! Stohohop it! Let gohoHOHAHAHA!”-

the singers laughter increased to soft giggles and bubbly gasps. The poor guy couldn’t handle 2 of his weakest spots be attacked at the same time.

Chan: “Hah, jackpot puppy! Are you gonna listen to me next time or do you want this to happen again?

Seungmin: “PLEHEHEHEASE, I CAHAHAN’T TAKE IT! MOVE SPOHOHOHTS LR STAHSHAOH HYUNG!”

after another 2 torturous minutes of ticklish agony, chan and his mystery helper let minnie off for now. He was still softly giggling trying to regain his breath with his head resting in channie’s neck.

chan: “will you listen next time?”

seungmin: (muttering softly and fast) “noilikeditalothyungbutitsembarrassing..”

chan began to gently trace his neck and collarbones again with eyes twinkling at the puppy.

chan: “awww, your so cute”

seungmin doesn’t fight back and just lets him do it, as he giggles, he looks up to the ceiling and sees a glimpse of black long flowing hair quickly shoot back.

seungmin: “wahahahait! jinnie hyung! did you hold my arms uhuhuhup?”

the mysterious helper has now been discovered

hyunjin: “sorry i had no choice, you needed to be taught a lesson”

seungmin: “maybe you need to be taught one later as well..”

Min gave his hyung a cute cheeky smirk. Hyunjin knew he was in for a ride later tonight

tags: @itzsana-kiddingmenow @jihyosdaughterpast @hansloveleeknow @minnielvrr @hearted-anon @lajanaa @dreamingstraykids @leeknowstan33 @jeonginsdiary @hearts444innie111 @sugary-sweet-anon

[minnielvrr]

Day 1: Harvest

Lee: Taehyung Ler: Jimin Word Count: 924

A/N: Yayyy my first BTS fic!!😋 Hope you enjoy~🥰🤗💖

Tags: @itzsana-kiddingmenow, @lajanaa, @bbybumblelee, @hearted-anon, @lunalattae,

@reginald-stay09, @jungwon-is-the-one

The three maknaes sat around the small table, sipping on a herbal tea that Jimin had bought.

They had decided to spend their last Autumn before the military together at a cottage in the countryside.

It had been Taehyung’s idea and he’d rented a place with a small apple orchard in the back too.

After hours of laying around, playing board games and snacking, Tae and Jimin decide to go pick some apples with the promise that Kookie would bake some treats with them.

They left Jungkook to focus on a sketch he’d started on, grabbing woven baskets and heading out.

It was a 5-minute trip and the two men were amazed sight that greeted them.

The orchard was peaceful, the fading light of the sunset casting a warm glow over the rows of apple trees.

As they surveyed the place, the duo figured things would be much more fun if the stakes were upped a notch and decided to make a game of it.

“Whoever picks more of the best apples here wins!” Taehyung announced with a flourish, and Jimin giggled at him.

“What do I win?” He asked, playfully provoking his best friend. Tae levelled him with a challenging look. “The right to tickle the other person for 5 minutes.”

The older’s eyes widened, a light blush dusting his cheeks. He noticed that despite his bold words, Tae was in a similar state.

“Alright, you’re on,” Jimin grinned, already planning his ‘punishment’. Tae was gonna lose this little game of his, one way or another.

The two had been laughing and competing for the last few minutes, their baskets slowly filling up.

But as Tae darted ahead, reaching for a particularly shiny apple, Jimin pounced. “Not so fast!” Jimin laughed, tugging Tae back by the arm.

The younger stumbled and Jimin’s fingers grazed his waist accidentally. That’s when he felt it—Taehyung’s immediate, helpless flinch.

“Oh?” Jimin’s eyes twinkled with newfound mischief. “Ticklish, huh?” Before Tae could defend himself, Jimin’s fingers danced across his waist, sending him into a fit of laughter.

“Ahahahaha nooo! Jihihimin!!” Tae’s voice was frantic, his legs kicking out helplessly as Jimin found the perfect spot.

“Youhuhuhu’re cheheheating!!” But Jimin’s grin only widened, his hands not letting up. “Loser’s gotta pay the price,” he teased.

“Ihihi dihidn’t lohohose yehet!!” Tae protested through sweet giggles, knees buckling. The two ended up on the leaf covered ground, Jimin’s hands never once letting up.

After a brief struggle, he managed to straddle the other, allowing his hands to roam free over his belly and sides.

Tae was sensitive everywhere. It didn’t matter if Jimin’s hands were scribbling his hips or digging into the crevices of his ribs, any and all actions seemed to garner giggles and cackles.

“ohoho myhy gahaHAHAHAD!! nonoNO nohohohot thehehehere!!” Jimin’s fingers had touched a certain spot on Tae’s waist that had the younger’s legs kicking out involuntarily.

Jimin paused for a moment, then pressed his fingers here and there until he found the point that earned him the same reaction.

Tae watched him with wide eyes, laughter spiking in pitch as an evil yet beautiful smile blooms on his friend’s face.

“Did I find good spot Taehyung-ah?” He cooed, one hand now fixing onto the spot while his free hand kept Tae still.

Ticklish sparks lit across his skin as Jimin kept up the attack, leaving him a squirming, blushing mess on the floor. “Ahahahahaha plehehease! Jihihimin! Jihihimihin-ahaha nohoho!!”

Taehyung’s heart raced, torn between laughter and helplessness as Jimin’s fingers grazed over his most ticklish spot.

A mix of embarrassment and joy flushed his cheeks, and he could hardly breathe between his giggles.

As Jimin watched Tae laugh his head off, an idea popped up. He stopped, reaching over to pick up a dry leaf  and shook it free of dirt.

“Think this could tickle you too, my cute ticklish baby?” He mused, pretending to swipe the leaf over Tae’s bare belly , that had been exposed from all his struggling.

“No! Nohoho ihihit’ll tihihickle mehehe!!” Tae pleaded, bright giggles bubbling up despite Jimin not having done anything.

“Really? Let’s test that out shall we?” The older didn’t waste any time, twirling the tool in the air then dipping it straight into Tae’s navel and drilling in.

The leaf was soft, folding immediately, but the edges still poked and dragged on Taehyung’s skin in a way that felt unbearable to the lee.

His back arched and he threw his head back as deep, belly laughs rang through the orchard.

It was beautiful. The sunset, sweet smelling apples and now Tae’s happy laughter and pretty, heart-shaped smile.

“tihihihickles!! IHIT TIHIHCKLES JIHIHIMIN-AHAHAHA PLEHEHEHEASE!!”

Jimin kept this up for minutes, moving the leaf around; from Tae’s belly to his sides to his neck and ears, stopping only when Tae’s laughter grew breathless and his squirming became weaker.

“Do you think Kookie could hear you?” The older teased as he helped Tae up onto wobbly feet, brushing away the twigs and leaves stuck to his clothes and hair.

By the time they made it back, both were covered in dirt and laughter, the playful tension still lingering between them.

But as Tae realized the game’s true outcome, a mischievous glint sparked in his eyes.

“I think I won after all,” he whispered, lunging at Jimin just as Jungkook grinned from his spot near the oven.

Their laughter filled the room as the second round unfolded.

It was nice spending time together. They couldn’t wait to bring their hyungs here next year.

please lemme know if there are any typos or mistakes🤗💖

[ichijager13]

Teach Me How To Be Loved

Chapter XIV

I've got a burning desire for you

Pairing : Eren Jäger x reader, past relationships: Reiner Braun x reader, Jean kristein x reader

Characters: Eren Jäger, Annie Leonhart, Pieck Finger, Reiner Braun, Jean Kristein, Carla Jäger, Sophie Jäger.

Tags: Unhealthy coping mechanism, unhealthy relationships, childhood trauma, physical and verbal abuse, self-esteem and trust issues, domestic violence, implied/ referenced cheating, and a touch of sweet, lovable, and non fuckboy Eren Jäger

This fic is brought to you by Lana Del Rey’s songs

Masterlist, AO3,  Playlists: Reader’s POV, Eren’s POV

A/N: Hey, hey, heeeeeey! Guess who have decided to pick up her fanfic and update it. Yes, this lazy Ichi! I'm really sorry for taking so long to update, I didn't abandon this story, I promise.

Also thank you so much for reading and supporting my works.

Ichi  ❤️  

“Eren,” you moaned, wrapping your arms around his figure. Just like every time you had him this close, you were on the verge of losing your mind. His scent, his teeth grazing your shoulder, and his warm breath fanning against your skin felt ethereal. It felt like a dream. One, you didn’t want for it to end.

In response to the sultry noises escaping you, he brushed his lips against your pulse point, making the last threads of sanity grow thinner and more tense before they slowly vanished in the air.

Laying on your couch in the middle of your dimly lit living room, you tried to trace back the events of this night. You tried, without success, to figure out how innocent tickling led to him half naked and hovering over your nude body.

Swimming in an endless sea of joy and sensuality, you tried to capture and memorize this moment. The faint ticking of the mechanical, vintage clock sitting on the fireplace, the aroma of your fabric softener, and his heart rate. You were mindlessly indulging in your fantasies when his rich voice brought you back to present time.

“Are you ready, love?” he inquired once again.

His large hand caressed your cheeks ever so gently as you nodded. It took you a while to manage to utter a broken yes.

A genuine smile, the same one that captured your heart and bewitched your soul, broke through his lips as he kicked out his shorts and repositioned himself above you. He slowly guided himself past your wet folds. It stretched, burned, and filled you, and it never failed to make you feel complete. His thumb still traced gentle cercles against your burning cheeks as he praised you and chanted how perfect you were for him. how beautiful, dazzling, and amazing you were.

By the time he was fully inside you, your brain was so fogged that the line separating reality from fantasies blended, making it hard to tell what was real and what wasn’t. His hands were all over your body. His lips were littering soft kisses against your burning skin, reminding you that he wasn’t a product of your imagination. Reminding you that this was real. That what was going on between the two of you was real.

And you believed him. You believed and held on to all the unspoken promises he sealed against your skin.

So, you let your head fall back, eyes screwed shut, and gave in to the pleasure waves idly hitting you. You closed your eyes and let them drift you away from all the terrible thoughts that had haunted you for years. You let him trade the darkness devouring you with beams of sunlight and the twinkles of a million stars.

Eren couldn’t get over how dazzling you looked underneath him. With each thrust, the noises that spilled from your mouth pushed him over the edge. He tried to contain himself and take it easy on you. But your parted, swollen lips made it so hard for him to control the violent hurricane of feelings he was trapped in. And you asking him, in your high-pitched, broken voice, to go faster made thinking straight even harder.

His arms looping around your waist and pressing your writhing body against his gave you a sense of safety. You had no idea why, but whenever you found yourself in his arms, all your worries washed away, and the dark clouds invading your sky disappeared. Whenever he was around, all the sad melodies you spent your life listening to changed into happy ones. Smiling, you made a mental note to share this thought with him. to tell him about all the wonderful things he made you feel. to thank him for loving and accepting you as you were. But the unholy rhythm he was pounding on you made your thoughts dissolve like a spoonful of salt in a bottle of water.

Lost in the blissful mist of the building up pleasure, you didn’t realize that he had changed position until he hit that sweet spot that made you see the stars in the middle of your apartment. That particular angle that never failed to make your soul get lost forever in the abyss of your orgasm.

He continued moving in synch with your heartbeat and your lust-filled thoughts. With every buck and every groan, he was bringing dead parts of you back to life. Parts you completely forgot they ever existed.

By the time he collapsed next to you, your ability to think or form a coherent sentence was inexistent. Craving more of his soothing warmth, you instinctively nestled your face in the crook of his neck. A pair of strong, tattooed arms looped around your shaking body, and it felt like home. With the tip of your finger, you absent-mindedly traced the one climbing up his arm and covering his shoulder blade. Caressing his tattoos was one of the numerous habits you developed after you got together.

You remained like that, in each other’s arms, enjoying the comfortable silence until you fell asleep.

When the sunlight filtering through the beige curtains woke you up the next morning, you found yourself tucked under the soft, satin sheets in your bed.

Eren was nowhere to be seen. Sitting with your back pressed against the headboard, you perked your ears, trying to locate where your boyfriend was. But to your surprise, the apartment was as silent as the city streets on a snowy Sunday morning.

After you left your bed, you fished for a t-shirt and exited your bedroom. Your clothes and his, which were scattered all over the living room, were gone. Assuming it was Eren who picked them up, you put some order in the living room before heading to the bathroom to take a quick shower.

You were in the kitchen making breakfast when you heard the door.

[strawberriesinbloom]

Cake Heist

MC/Mammon

Summary: Mammon tries to steal a cake.

Word Count: 1682

This is a tickle fic btw

~🍓~

Mammon tiptoed across the House of Lamentation, careful to avoid any creaky floorboards and the like. He didn't want to wake any of his brothers from their slumber. He made a beeline toward the kitchen, where he knew his prize was being kept: a bloodberry cake.

Leviathan had brought it home this morning, blubbering about how it was an exact replica of some sort of dessert featured in this manga he liked and that he wanted to eat it with you tomorrow during some sort of anniversary of its release. Honestly, it went through one ear and out the other, but Mammon did remember how Leviathan specifically called him and Beelzebub out. He made both of them promise not to eat the cake or else he'd unleash Lotan on them.

While Mammon would normally be more than happy to honor his baby brother's request, that cake looked really good, so…yeah. One itty, bitty taste wouldn't hurt, right? Leviathan would barely notice one missing slice, right? Right?

Mammon was going to eat that cake no matter what. 

He poked his head through the doorframe of the kitchen, and his blood ran cold when he saw you placing a bowl into the microwave. You pressed a few buttons until a low whirring sound filled the quiet.

Mammon wasn't sure how you noticed his presence, but, before he knew it, you were staying directly at him. You grinned, and his heart raced. 

He was about to make a hasty (but dignified) retreat when you said, "Hey, there, Mammon. Up for a midnight snack?" Your voice sounded hoarse and a little deeper than usual. You must have just woken up, unlike Mammon, who had been biding his time in his room until the perfect time to enact his heist. 

Although you had caught him red-handed, it wasn't like you knew he was going to steal Leviathan's cake. All Mammon needed to do was grab a plate, take a slice of cake from the fridge, and make a mad dash back toward his room. He could still win this. Ignoring his trembling hands (for some inexplicable reason, they always did that when he was near you), he waltzed into the kitchen.

"Yeah, I woke up and came here lookin' for a bite to eat," Mammon responded as nonchalantly as he could. He stood in front of a cupboard filled with dishes that was right next to where you were.

You pulled out your D.D.D. "Same here," you said, leaning against the counter, "I got this random craving for soup in the middle of the night." You jerked your head toward the microwave before starting to mindlessly scroll through Fab Snap. 

The conversation was over, but he couldn't help but look at you for a second longer in hopes that you'd continue talking. When it was clear just how engrossed you were in your device, he shook his head before turning toward his main objective.

Mammon reached up to open the cupboard only to screech when something poked his side. He flinched, shooting his hand down to cover where you had certainly touched him. 

He spun his head toward you, intent on giving you a piece of his mind. He faltered when he saw you still glued to your D.D.D. "What…what was that?" Mammon swallowed thickly. 

You absentmindedly shrugged. The microwave beeped, but you turned it off without looking up for a moment. Whatever video you were watching must have been pretty intriguing to keep you like this.

But…if you hadn't poked him, who did? Mammon searched warily around the kitchen. Nothing seemed to be amiss, at least, nothing at first glance.

Hesitantly, Mammon returned his attention to the cupboard. He opened it up, revealing the plates…that were all on the top shelf. He growled and stood on his tiptoes. His shirt slipped out of his belt, which he wouldn't have noticed if something hadn't spidered along his bare stomach.

It happened too quickly for Mammon to suppress the embarrassingly high-pitched giggle that tumbled out of him. He jumped back, slightly curling up to hide his torso from anything trying to touch him. 

Once again, you were glued to your screen, but you weren't completely tuned out to the world. "Nice squeal," you said.

"Somethin' keeps touchin' me!" Mammon shouted. His cheeks were beginning to burn. 

You typed something into your D.D.D. "Really…? Well…that…" You scrunched up your nose for a moment. "...is interesting."

Gah, you were too invested in whatever you were doing to care about him: the Great Mammon. Admittedly, this did sting a little.

Okay, it stung a lot, but, at least he would have his cake. Mammon stepped back up to the cupboard, casting a couple more skeptical glimpses your way. You didn't look up from your D.D.D. at all, and Mammon let out a quiet sigh. He was being way too paranoid. 

He raised his hand and shot it back down when your arm moved out of the corner of his eye. He pressed his limbs against his torso, but you were just scratching your cheek. You put your hand back down, and he relaxed, sending you a sheepish smile that you didn't even get to see. 

Outstretching his hand to reach the plates, Mammon managed to rest his hand on the edge of the top shelf. There was a single plate within reach, and he was so close to touching it. He was only able to poke the porcelain dish until something started touching his armpit.

He screamed and clamped his arm down, but it was too late. Mammon shook uselessly for a second to try to stop himself from laughing. He pressed his lips together but was too ticklish for that to last any more than three seconds. 

"Stahahahap!" Mammon suddenly shrieked. His entire body grew unbearably hot. He had no idea he could make that sort of sound. Though, out of everyone who could have heard him, Mammon was glad that it was you. 

The sensations were soon getting to be too much for him to handle. Mammon grabbed the hand that was so intent on tickling his underarm and pried it off of him. He took in a few sharp and heavy breaths before squeezing the wrist of his assailant. 

You pull your hand out of his grasp. "Wow, breathless already? I had no idea you were that ticklish."

Mammon pouted, the tips of his ears heating up. He crossed his arms and chose to stare at the counter. "Ya were doin' that on purpose!" He couldn't believe you were only pretending to be distracted by your D.D.D.

"Duh."

You slipped your D.D.D. back into your pocket, a smug smirk plastered on your face. Wiggling your fingers, you stepped closer to him. That dangerous grin only grew as you came closer and closer.

Against his will, a small smile of his own broke through his expression, except it was more giddy. Mammon bounced around from foot to foot until you were face-to-face with him. An adrenaline rush coursed through him, but instead of following his fight-or-flight instincts, he stilled. Mammon had ample time to sprint out of there, but he decided to stay rooted in place.

You took note of this with a cocky eyebrow raise. "Don't look too excited, now," you teased before pouncing on him.

Your fingers dug into the soft flesh of his stomach. Mammon doubled over and staggered back, but made no effort to get away. "Hehehey!" He wiggled in place as your arms wrapped around him. 

"You know, it's not exactly a punishment if you're enjoying it." You prodded at the area just below his ribs. It made Mammon jump and squeak. 

He shook his head, desperately trying to ignore how strange you were making him feel. "Whahahat punihishment?" he managed to scream out before falling back into a cascade of laughter.

You shook your head. "For trying to eat Levi's cake. He was saving that."

"H–how did ya knohow–? Mammon interrupted himself with a loud snort when you suddenly squeezed the soft part above his hips. "Ehehehe! Ehehe!" It was humiliating how squeaky his giggles were.

"You're not in your pajamas, so it's pretty obvious you didn't wake up for a midnight snack.” You drilled your fingers into Mammon’s sides, which made him thrash about in your arms. “You were looking for something in particular, and what could it be if not Levi's cake?"

Dammit! 

The pads of your fingers scribbled rapidly along his waist, concentrating on his most sensitive spots. "D'AHAHAHA–" It tickled so badly that Mammon couldn't get a word in.

Mammon broke out of your grip and stumbled away from you. His chest heaved as he blinked away the tiny warm tears that pricked the corners of his eyes. The ghost of your wandering fingers still remained, sending tingles all across his stomach. He let out a few residual chuckles.

You placed your hands on your hips. "Are you still going to try to take his cake?"

He puckered his lips, trying to weigh the pros and cons. If Mammon did attempt to steal the cake again, then you'd just resume tickling him. But, if he gave up now, then that meant he wouldn't get a chance to even taste that cake. What a tricky situation... 

"Mammonnnn?" 

Nevermind! The choice was actually really obvious!

He kicked the ground. "Okay, okay, fine! I won't try to steal Levi's crummy cake again. 

The way your face brightened up made Mammon's head spin. "Good! Now, go to bed." You went back to the microwave and pressed a couple more buttons to reheat your soup. He wasn't sure why, but Mammon lingered in the kitchen. You rolled your eyes playfully. "Unless you want me to tickle you again?"

Mammon perked up but played it off as a flinch. He shook his head rapidly. "I-I'm fine!" he squeaked as darted out of the kitchen, leaving your laughing figure behind. Mammon tried not to think about the excitement that had bubbled in his chest.

[amberlide]

Reflection

Pairing: Imelda Reyes/Nerida Roberts Tags: Fluffy romance, broken friendship, found love, love confessions, first kiss Word count: 5.5 k Tag: @libellule-ao3

AO3 link: here :)

A/N: this is my first F/F! I wanted to investigate why Imelda and Nerida weren't friends anymore and give a bit more insight into Nerida's secondary quest. I want to thank Shivvy for the amazing beta reading!! <3

@theladyofshalott1989 can you put put the AO3 link in the queer fic list, please? :) when you have time of course!

Faster.

Imelda leaned on her broom, tightly gripping the handle with her bare hands. Her chest rested on the hard wood, her chin almost touching the smooth, polished surface. A sly grin painted on her flushed face, tears glistening in the corners of her eyes from the unrelenting wind. 

As the forest trees darted beneath her, she plunged even lower, the undergrowth becoming just a splash of green and brown in the corner of her watering vision.

Faster. 

She hooked her legs around the tail of the broom, knees pressed firmly together. 

The surge of adrenaline coursed through her body as she swayed to the right just in time to avoid a solitary tree in the middle of the path. 

A perfect move for a perfect rider with the perfect mount. 

Mr. Weekes wasn't joking about how amazing his new update was. 

At this rate, nobody would beat her record in the flight trials. 

The vicious smile on her face widened; she would be the only one at the top of the ranking. 

Soon, the castle came into view. Its majestic reflection waved over the Black Lake, basking in the glow of a warm summer afternoon with its pinnacles and towers. 

Imelda lowered herself, sprinting toward the lagoon, the surface rippled by tiny waves brought by the wind. As the familiar emptiness in her stomach greeted her, she closed her eyes for a split second, savoring the cold splashes of water on her face. Her heart beating thunderously in her ears as the tips of her feet brushed against the surface. 

It was the best feeling ever, being so free and so empowered at the same time. 

Competing against others made her feel strong and powerful, but competing against herself made her feel alive. 

Her best time on that same course was from last week, and now she was ready to beat it again. 

A distant shout reached her buzzing ears, and she grinned, recognizing the voices of her teammates. They would never catch up to her; she was the Icy Queen of the Pitch. 

It was time to show those dung heads why she was their captain.

She snapped her eyes open, ready to take a turn around the castle, zigzagging around the towers. She perhaps even startled some first years as she headed for the Quidditch pitch. 

At the thought, she chuckled under her breath, feeling the rush of the wind against her face, reddening her cheeks and making her skin tingle. 

Victory tasted like sweat, salt, leather, and wood polish.

Exhilarated by the moment, catching a glimpse of some students sunbathing along the lake's shores, Imelda didn't waste a moment to showcase her abilities. 

Even if the race wasn't over yet, why not celebrate in advance something she would win anyway?

After all, her grandfather hadn't spent all that time teaching her during summer and winter breaks just so she could fly like a boring Fwooper, no. 

She was a Jobberknoll. A silent threat.

She inhaled deeply, the salty scent filling her nostrils and tickling her nose. Then, she leaned to her side, as if poised to fall, only to swiftly jerk her hips and execute an impressive, swift maneuver—a complete turn on herself, writhing like a snake again and again at least three times. For a split second, her long ponytail coiled around her, her cloak enveloping her slender body in a mixture of green and silver. She could hear the spectators holding their breath, their eyes wide in astonishment, releasing a "oh" of admiration followed by a flurry of applause.

It was the weaving serpent, a corkscrew acrobatic move that her grandfather had taught his son first and then her, the hallmark of the Reyes family. Her father had demonstrated it multiple times after successful victories on the Quidditch pitch. And she was certainly no different.

As Imelda got back on course, her head light and dizzy from the sudden movements, she turned slightly toward her left, an involuntary and almost imperceptible tilting of her head. 

Her gaze darted for a second to the Boathouse, where a small figure was hung by the pier. 

She snorted.

Dawdling. 

Like every afternoon, she was still there, but this time she wasn't huddled over, checking her reflection on the water; instead, she was standing on the low stone curb surrounding the dock. 

What was she doing?

As Imelda approached the cliff to which the castle was clinging, a wave higher than the others hit the shallow rocks below her, splashing water onto her face and entering her nose just as she was about to turn around, convincing herself that she didn't care about the figure.

She sneezed.

Immediately, her broom decelerated and the handle lowered, almost brushing against the water as someone zoomed next to her in a whirlwind of green and black. 

"Hey Reyes! Keep your ass busy showing off! I'm going to win this!" 

Imelda gritted her teeth and regained control of her mount. She jerked it upwards, desperately gripping the handle and digging her fingernails into her white, sweaty palms. 

"Sure, Sallow," she cried, rising again. "In your dreams!"

As she swayed to the right to turn around the castle, the girl couldn't help but cast another curious glance towards the Boathouse. 

The figure shed her cloak. Then raised her arms. 

Imelda squinted her eyes. Was she going to dive? Did she finally learn how to swim?

Swinging her arms in the air, after a moment of clear hesitation, the small figure hunched and jumped, plunging into the dark waters below. 

Imelda held her breath and widened her eyes as she kept turning her head behind her, checking if the figure was coming back, while hurtling toward the Quidditch pitch.

Five seconds. Ten seconds. 

She was already so far away that she couldn't distinguish anything anymore. The surface of the lake was just a dark mass, a bottomless pool. Her pulse quickened. 

Twenty seconds. 

She swerved, turning abruptly. She hadn't resurfaced from the water yet. Why?

To her surprise, Imelda found herself anxious to know whether the figure was going to make it or not. Thirty seconds. 

She had made her decision. 

Without much hesitation, Imelda lurched forward towards the Boathouse.

"Cap! The Quidditch pitch is on the other…" But the rest of the words got lost in the howling wind. 

Imelda didn't care about the race anymore.

"Damn Roberts!" she thought, her eyes darting around, flashing on the surface. 

"If she's pulling my leg, I'm going to drown her with my own two hands!"

But Nerida wasn't coming back up. 

The only movements on the Black Lake were the constant washing of the waves, sweeping over towards the Boathouse. What should have been the soothing, rhythmic sound of the undertow resonated inside her like an eerie call from an ancient cult, echoing her fears and heightening her senses.

Imelda hovered over the surface, lowering herself until her feet touched the water, the moisture seeping through her shoes making her shiver in discomfort. 

"Roberts!" 

But only the croaking of the wooden boats answered her call.

She took a deep breath, her hands clammy from the strain of holding the broom, her shoulders tense, and her face and hair damp from the constant splashes of water. On the side of the Boathouse were Nerida's bag, her shoes, and the bundle of her cloak. 

Still, no sign of her.

"Nerida!" she cried again, her anguish increasing, her heart beating in her temples, making her stomach churn and her mouth dry. 

Biting her tongue in frustration, Imelda approached the pier.

She hastily dismounted. Abandoning her broom against the wall, she kicked off her shoes and got rid of her cloak. Finally, taking a running start and a deep, desperate breath, she dove headfirst into the lake.

The chilly, murky water welcomed her in its cold embrace.

Imelda widened her gaze, ignoring the darkness pressing on her eyes. She started scanning her surroundings, adjusting to the dimly lit environment. The bright light from the sunny afternoon barely broke the surface; as she dived even deeper, it became too dark to even distinguish the rocks near the cliff.

The rocks! 

At the thought, she gasped, losing a lungful of precious air that escaped from her mouth in a spiral of tiny bubbles and danced towards the surface. Her hair swayed around her as she desperately turned around, frantically searching for her friend. Twisting her body and slashing her legs, Imelda tried to avoid being pushed up to the surface and onto the shore with its razor-sharp teeth ready to maul her.

She felt her clothes heavy, dragging her down, while her head was light from the lack of oxygen. Bright small flashes pulsed in front of her. Imelda struggled to keep her focus; this was a race she couldn't afford to lose.

As the sounds around her dulled, only the erratic beating of her heart filled her ears. But it wasn't from an intoxicating experience like flying; it was from the fear of losing someone so dear to her.

She just wanted to see the delicious way her friend's freckles twitched when she smiled, just one more time.

Just once more.

Imelda plunged deeper, biting her tongue and cursing herself for not allowing wands during races. She could have done very well with just a bit of light; now, every shadow around her resembled Nerida's slender body.

Uncertain whether to continue her fruitless search or go back up for a quick breath of fresh air, Imelda caught a glimpse of something shining in the corner of her eyes. She turned so quickly that the water swirled into her pounding ears.

"Nerida!"

The silhouette of the girl's body was just a few metres from her, suspended in the dim strip of water just below the surface. Clearly, she had tried to resurface without succeeding.

With newfound hope, Imelda lurched forward, ignoring the pain in her muscles and the aching of her head. 

Within seconds, she grabbed hold of Nerida. 

She firmly wrapped her arm around the girl's waist and dragged her closer, but the other was limp and heavy from her drenched clothes. Her disheveled hair swayed gently in the current, hiding her face and impairing Imelda's vision.

Imelda gritted her teeth, slashing her legs. A groan escaped her lips, together with another cascade of bubbles; more precious air leaving her lungs. She didn't have much left by now. But she tensed her arm. 

She wouldn't let Nerida go. 

Not this time.

Imelda brought her left arm up, slicing through that murky wall, then pulled it back with all her strength, propelling forward. Her body screamed from the intense effort, but she could see the water becoming clearer by the second, the feeble rays of sunlight penetrating the surface. She was close; she couldn't give up!

She had endured worse when Quidditch training with her grandfather.

Suddenly, something caught her ankle, dragging her down. Imelda opened her mouth and a silent scream filled the last bubble. She tried to fight, fear and desperation mingling in her already foggy mind.

She could feel a presence next to her, a shadow rising up to her left side. A scaled, translucent arm wrapped around her waist. Imelda tried to fight as the creature pressed against her tired body, but her head was heavy and she didn't have much strength anymore. She soon surrendered to what felt like a sturdy, slimy monster. 

The Giant Squid perhaps?

Without much effort, they were propelled upwards by the fast, swaying movement of what Imelda imagined was a tail of some sort.

But Squid didn't have tails.

They soon broke the surface; the brisk air filled Imelda's burning lungs, her nose was sore from the muddy water, and her eyes were stinging. Her ears were assaulted by the rushing sound of the wind meandering through the rocks and the slashing of the waves, and started buzzing. She blinked against the bright light of a dying sun.

Imelda closed her eyes and took in a deep, painful breath while she felt the body behind her gently carrying her and Nerida towards the Boathouse. Once close enough, the creature let go of her, and Imelda gathered enough strength to reach the low stone curb that gently descended into the water.

She groggily moved on all fours in her drenched clothes, dragging Nerida's listless body with her until she collapsed onto the ground inside the Boathouse, coughing and spitting water. The last image imprinted on her eyes was the whipping of a long, bluish tail with almost transparent fins, elegantly swaying in the air before disappearing with a splash into the murky depths.

*

Imelda shivered and raised her arm to shield her sore eyes from a pesky last ray of sunshine peeking through a fissure in the ceiling of what looked like a moldy and mossy building. 

Her body was cold, her fingertips numb. Moving was an endeavor of its own. Imelda tried to swallow, but her throat ached so much she felt tears filling her eyes. 

Exhausted and completely breathless, she sensed something next to her, radiating comforting warmth that drew her attention—a small fire in a jar. 

A strained smile caressed her burning lips, recognizing the charm as one of Nerida's specialties.

She had witnessed her summoning it countless times during winter, as they always sat together under the arches in the courtyard or in the Slytherin dungeons. Nerida was the type of girl who always suffered from the cold, her nose red and chapped from the chill and the countless sneezes. Imelda's first and last Christmas gift to her had been a pair of warm, hand-knitted socks. 

Did she still have them?

A sudden rustle next to her interrupted her thoughts. 

As the memory of what just happened flooded her mind, she cracked her eyes open. The hard stone floor was covered in pebbles which dug into her hands, leaving marks as she struggled to raise herself up. 

Imelda ignored the soaring pain in her limbs as she turned her stiff neck, scanning the shadowy building with locks of soaked hair plastered to her face.

"Nerida!"

Something slipped on top of her, and through her blurry vision, she soon realized it was her cloak.

"I'm here." A soft, gentle voice responded to her tentative croak. 

Her voice.

Within moments, her vision adjusted to the light, and Imelda could discern the figure that knelt down in front of her. A pair of warm, brown eyes, glowing under the inviting flicker of the jar-fire, held a concerned expression. Long, chestnut hair — lighter than hers — was damp and gathered in neat tresses, adorning her slender neck and narrow shoulders. A tentative smile tugged at the corner of thin, chapped lips, and a splash of freckles dusted the bridge of her small nose.

Imelda took in a deep breath of relief, her nostrils filling with the moisture from the lake, the fishy scent from the Boathouse mingling with the acrid smell of tar. 

She seemed to be fine.

Imelda then squinted her eyes, frustration soon building up within her. 

"What in Merlin's name did you think you were doing?!" she exclaimed, trying to hide her worried tone with a decisive note, but her voice still came out shaky and coarse from all the water she had ingested.

Immediately, Nerida lowered her guilty gaze, her hands clinging to the jar where the small fire was still burning. Its flames cast dancing shadows on her face, its inviting warmth spreading all around them.

"I'm… sorry," the girl murmured, her voice strained and low.

"You better be!" Imelda huffed, "If you don't know how to swim you better stay on solid ground."

Nerida took a deep breath, "I thought I could manage. Adelaide said I improved so much from our last lesson…" 

Imelda snorted so loud, she had to dry her nose with the hem of her cloak from the little splash  of water that came out of it.

Oakes. Of course, she had to imagine that it was all her fault.

"Well, next time you see her, tell your friend that I almost died because of her!" Imelda shook her head, her drenched hair releasing cold droplets on her neck and down her shirt collar.

“If you wanted to learn how to swim properly, why didn't you…" she didn't finish the sentence and bit her tongue, averting her gaze.

Come to me? Was that what she wanted to say? 

Would she have helped her, if she had done so?

Maybe…

Feeling uncomfortable with her own thoughts, Imelda started to busy herself by adjusting her hair. She pulled her disheveled ponytail to the front and reached for the hairband, tugging at it impatiently. "I lost my race, and I almost drowned in the lake," she let it slip with a groan of pain, her soggy hair falling in wet, sticky tresses all over her shirt.

"And all for what?" she continued, passing her hands through her long, dark locks. As she started to rake them, Imelda winced, feeling tight knots under her fingers.

Not hearing an answer, but rather a rustling, she raised her gaze, curiosity piqued: Nerida was hunched over her bag, searching for something. She could discern the shuffling of parchment papers and quills.

Imelda's eyes lingered on the damp shirt clinging to the girl's form. She could make out her corset under her clothes, and the feeble light filtering from the open door in the back made her stand out like a silhouette against the dark backdrop of the stone building. 

Swallowing hard Imelda averted her stare just in time, hoping to pass off the flush on her face as the warmth coming from the fire.

Soon enough, after more rustling and bustling, Nerida presented her what looked like a piece of jewelry. It was a silver necklace with a pendant adorned with a greenish stone that gleamed under the flames. 

"I went to look for this," she murmured and Imelda realized that the necklace must have been what had caught her attention when she was looking for her under water.

It was what had brought her to Nerida.

"What is that?" she asked, making a half-hearted attempt to hide her growing discomfort by pulling her fingers through her hair with force, working out the tangled knots with impatience.

"It's a Mermish artifact, a gift I went to retrieve form a cave…" Nerida's voice trailed off, "I'm so sorry, Imelda. I didn't want to ask for help. Who would dive into the lake for a lunatic obsessed with merpeople?"

Imelda shifted her gaze from the necklace to Nerida, who was tormenting her hands by twitching her fingers and casting pleading looks while mumbling more excuses and thanking her for saving her.

Soon, the girl found herself torn between the urge to lean towards Nerida to better grasp her words or to hug her in a comforting embrace.

"It wasn't me," Imelda cut her off, "I didn't save you. A mer… something got us both," she murmured, continuing to work on her hair, cursing under her breath every time she pulled a bit too hard.

"Oh!" Nerida exclaimed, sudden excitement lighting up her pale features, "It must have been Melusine. The gift is from them and…" She didn't finish the sentence. Instead, she left the jewel on Imelda's lap and raised her arm, gently swatting away the other's nervous hands from her hair.

"Let me take care of it, would you turn?"

Imelda nodded silently and complied, crossing her legs. She felt Nerida drape her cloak over her trembling shoulders before starting to comb her hair with her fingers, gently intertwining them in her locks, carefully avoiding tugging and disentangling them one by one.

Imelda shivered under her touch.

She had forgotten how nice it felt to have Nerida's small hands in her hair. During their first year, the girl had always taken care of it, braiding it in simple yet elegant styles that Imelda secretly loved but never admitted. 

She had never complimented her friend for her abilities, and now she regretted it.

She felt her scalp pleasantly tingling under Nerida's soft caresses as she parted her tresses neatly and raked them with the help of a small comb, something she always carried in her shoulder bag in a purse decorated with green stones.

"You're letting it grow, and it suits you," Nerida remarked casually.

Imelda hummed in agreement, feeling suddenly embarrassed by the simple comment.

"Do you remember the last time I did your hair?"

A soft smile formed on Imelda's lips. Of course, she remembered!

"It was before potion class, one of the last days of school," she murmured, memories flooding her mind as if it were ages ago.

"Yes!" Nerida chuckled. "I accidentally put a honking daffodil among the other flowers, and it woke up during class."

"Sharp had a panic attack!" Imelda laughed, recalling the scene vividly. All her classmates had stared at her while the flower kept honking happily in her hair.

Imelda had exchanged a look of dismay with Nerida, but she couldn't be angry. She remembered her friend stifling a laugh, putting her hand over her mouth and closing her eyes, the freckles on her face forming that endearing grimace she was so familiar with.

Was she doing it right now?

She tried to fight the temptation to turn and check, but the soft, enticing chuckle kept filling her ears, and she didn't want it to end with what Nerida might think was one of her sour looks.

"We did have fun!" she exclaimed.

"Yes, we did!" agreed the other, resuming her work and starting to dry Imelda's hair with a piece of cloth.

Imelda closed her eyes, relishing the feeling of being taken care of, but soon, she opened them again. That memory had stirred something else inside her, something she longed to confront Nerida over.

She bit her lip. They weren't friends anymore for a reason, and she knew if she asked, she was going to ruin this peaceful moment between them. Nonetheless, she wanted to know.

Drawing in a deep breath, she asked, "Why didn't you come that day?"

The question hung in the air, stretching the tension between them heavily.

Imelda felt Nerida's hands quivering, brushing her neck as she gathered her locks, her fingertips twitching and lingering on her skin.

"I waited for you all afternoon near the pitch. I thought we were going to fly together during our second year too. You really didn’t have time anymore?"

The silence felt heavier now that she had spoken those words—words she had kept within herself for almost four years now. And a burning question she had never dared to ask.

It was the first of September, and she remembered being so eager to meet her friend again. They had talked about it during the summer holidays in sporadic letters, but soon, Nerida had stopped replying, and Imelda had just hoped she would come to the pitch as they always did during their first year.

Two hours. 

She had waited two hours that afternoon until it was so dark she couldn't distinguish her feet anymore. Her hand was so stiff from gripping the handle of her broom that she thought it was grafted to it. 

Imelda had kept staring at that piece of parchment for an eternity, struggling to keep tears from rolling down her cheeks, shivering in the autumn Scottish breeze coming from all around the hills.

"I don't have time anymore, I'm sorry."

When Madam Kogawa had found her, Imelda was so worked up that the professor mistook tears of pain for frustration. From that point on, she had always tried to maintain her cold demeanor and unrelenting composure, earning her the name of the Icy Queen.

"You know I'm not jealous of you, right?" 

Imelda shivered at the question; Nerida's tense voice was low, almost a whisper.

"Yes, I know," Imelda breathed, fidgeting with the hem of her cloak. "I thought if I started telling the others that, it would be easier to convince myself of my own lie," she explained. Then she turned lightly, trying to catch a glimpse of Nerida's face.

When she did, the girl met her eyes with an apologetic, bittersweet smile that stretched her lips, a silent question in her eyes. "No, it didn't work," Imelda added, averting her gaze and fixing it on a couple of spiders scuttling about on the ground, trying to reach a hole in the mossy stone.

She heard Nerida take a deep breath; the hair around her neck tingled. Nerida asked, ”Do you remember the last day we flew together?"

Imelda nodded.

"It was one of the last days of school. Like now," she murmured, perfectly recalling that warm afternoon and the joyous chatting, excitement filling their minds as they already savored the summer holidays.

"Yes, we went near the lake for a last run," Nerida continued. "It was fun. I had fun," she corrected. 

Imelda closed her eyes, waiting patiently; she had never been the patient type.

"But then we dismounted and stood near the shore for a bit, until Madam Kogawa came. She proposed that you join the Slytherin Quidditch team the next year. I remember being so proud of you! You had dreamt about it all year, but there wasn't a free spot."

Imelda nodded again, recalling the moment vividly. It was not every day a professor and a star like Madam Kogawa complimented your skills.

"I remember looking at our reflection in the lake while you were talking to her. I saw a beautiful young girl, so talented, so proud, so amazing in everything…" her voice broke, and Imelda struggled to resist the urge to turn and check on her.

"I… I knew I couldn't be enough for you." Nerida sobbed, passing a hand under her eyes.

"I was afraid you would grow tired of me, of our friendship. I knew once you were on the team, you would be the queen of the team and… I could never hope to reach your level, but I desperately wanted to show you that I was interesting, that I was worthy of your attention."

Her voice broke again, a soft sigh escaping her lips. 

Imelda could imagine her tormenting her hands as she used to do when nervous.

"So I stopped coming to the pitch. I wanted to tell you, but I felt so guilty. I was afraid you would read in my face what… what I was trying to hide."

"Nerida…"

"And then I joined the Crossed Wand club!" The high pitch of Nerida's voice thrilled in her ears. The sudden change made Imelda jolt. 

"I thought I could still show you that I could make it. I could compete as well! But then you became the best player on the team, then Quidditch captain, and then you won the Quidditch Cup last year. It was suddenly too much to bear… so I preferred to keep quiet and just watch you from the bleachers."

"Or from the pier," Imelda interjected, trying to keep a casual tone.

Nerida gasped. "You… you noticed?"

"Of course. Why do you think this is my favorite course for my races?"

Nerida blushed.

"Why do you think I dropped Divination?" Imelda grumbled, her heart starting to race.

"Because Professor Onai told you you have no inner sight?"

Imelda scoffed. Of course not!

"I… I couldn't stand you and Oakes together. It was painful enough to see you two chatting and giggling during Astronomy. Gossiping and making predictions while stargazing. It felt like a never-ending date between you two," she groaned, biting her lip, realizing she had said too much.

"Adelaide is just a friend…" Nerida murmured, her voice lighter all of a sudden. 

Imelda felt her small hands on her back, gently massaging her shoulders. She looked at hers, full of calluses and completely ruined by the sweat from her Quidditch gloves. She would have renounced all of that to have her Rida back just for one day to fly together around the castle as they used to do.

She turned, finally facing the girl.

"I don't know… is she?" Imelda raised her gaze, a tentative question in her brown eyes.

Nerida nodded before taking her hands in hers, gently rubbing her stiff fingers. "Nobody will ever replace you, Imma," she whispered, her eyes filled with silent tears, some shimmering on her eyelashes.

Imelda felt her stomach turn. She hadn't heard that nickname in years, and it warmed her heart to hear it now, from the only person who was entitled to use it.

"I wanted to join you that day. I felt too guilty for leaving you there waiting, so I sent that message… but I didn't have the courage to tell you that…"

She swallowed, meeting Imelda's gaze.

"That…?"

Nerida didn't answer, biting her lip as a solitary tear streamed down her cheek.

"Rida, what did you want to tell me?"

She took a deep breath. "That you're beautiful and strong and amazing, and I admire you so much! You deserve the world, Imma! I don't care what the others say!"

Imelda felt her heart thump in her chest. She knew she was a lot of things.

She was a talented player for Madam Kogawa, bossy and overbearing for her Quidditch team, arrogant for most people in the Gobstone club, and the next star of the Reyes family in the eyes of her grandfather.

Imelda was used to the little compliments people gave her, usually about her abilities on a broom and as a Quidditch player. But never, never had she imagined she could be beautiful and strong and amazing… for someone she liked as much as Nerida. 

The very person who patiently endured her swinging moods, her occasional bitchy attitude. The girl who never failed to amaze her with her ability at Wizarding Chess, and always took care of her with small endearing gestures like styling her hair or trying to make her laugh with innocent pranks.

How could she not be impressed by her resolve to be a liaison to Merpeople?

She even learned how to speak mermish!

She felt Nerida’s warm little hand gently stroke hers, squeezing her fingers together, catching her attention. Imelda's tanned, ruined skin was a stark contrast against her pale, delicate fingers.

"I miss you, Imma," she murmured, tilting her head, tears staining her pale cheeks.

Imelda leaned forward, the last rays of a dying sun penetrating through the open door behind her, making Nerida's soft hair gleam. 

The sprinkle of freckles adorning the bridge of Nerida's nose made Imelda wish she could drown in those cute little spots. She was gorgeous.

By instinct, Imelda took her hand off hers and gently trailed them up, reaching her face. She caressed her cheek with the back of her hand, trying to dry some of the tears, the warm drops dampening her skin. Nerida took her hand when she held it to her face, gently tilting her head, savoring her careful touch.

Nerida closed her eyes, and a contented sigh escaped her lips. When she opened them again, a silent invitation lingered in her brown irises, a question that Imelda was eager to answer and didn't want to wait years for.

The girl moved forward, closing the gap between them. When their lips finally met, her pulse resonated with the calm undertone of the waves outside, echoing the turmoil in her chest.

The kiss was gentle, warm, and tender. Imelda could still taste a faint saltiness from the lake on Nerida's chapped lips. It was perfect.

When they parted, they gazed into each other's eyes for what felt like ages, finally reconnecting after all the years they had spent apart. 

Suddenly, the light from the small jar-fire dimmed, leaving them in the cold shadow of the building.

Nerida immediately stood up. "Let's go!" she exclaimed with a playful smile, tears still trapped in her eyes, this time from joy. Imelda nodded, following her.

They took a minute to adjust their clothes, putting their drenched shoes back on as they playfully complained about how uncomfortable they felt. Finally, they left the Boathouse, and Imelda reached her broom, mounted it, then invited Nerida to sit behind her.

Soon, they hovered over the lake. "Tell Oakes I will be giving you swimming lessons!" exclaimed Imelda, casting a look down as she balanced the broom.

"Maybe during the summer?" Nerida hummed happily against her shoulder.

"Hey, Reyes!" Someone called for her, and Imelda raised her gaze, surprised to find someone around in the approaching darkness of the evening.

"I won the race!" Sallow’s smile flashed with a smugness she didn't like.

She felt Nerida gently hugging her from behind, her chin resting on her shoulder and her hair tickling her neck.

"I didn't lose anything, Sallow! I gained something better!" she screamed, and with a decisive tug, she commanded the broom to rise, finally darting toward the castle with its stained windows shimmering in the early moonlight. 

Their faint reflection in the water perfectly accompanied Imelda and Nerida’s trembling figures, as they were finally together.

[giggly-squiggily]

A Monstrous Craving: First Selection (Blue Lock)

Such an intense gif oh my-

Hey y'all! Happy April Fools Day! I don't really have any strong feelings about the day, but since today is one of hi-jinks and shenanigans, I figured why not make the most mischievous Blue Lock character of all a fic to celebrate?

This is part 1 of 2 fics I'm writing: This one takes place during the First Selection with Team Z, while the second one will take place during Second Selection (No spoilers in either, just lots of Bachira tickle-related shenanigans) I hope you like it!

CW: Swearing, gang tickles

Summary: Bachira wakes up with only one goal in mind; become the Ultimate Blue Lock Tickle Monster.

Bachira Meguru was a simple, if not whimsical boy.

He loved taking naps throughout the day. He enjoyed canned pineapple and a warm bowl of rice in the morning. He likes drawing dolphins on his things and adores Soccer with every thread in his body.

Oh, and he loved messing with his teammates.

How could he not? 11 different personalities essentially locked in the same room- it was bound to happen, this sudden craving of messing with them. Bachira hadn’t planned it- he simply woke up one morning with a single thought in mind.

“Today- I’m gonna get them all.”

~~~

Fingers worked meticulously through silky red strands. Chigiri was half out of it- despite a shower and leg care that morning, his brain wasn’t quite on yet. The good thing about his current hairstyle was he did it so many times these days it became muscle memory, so there was no need to fight for a spot in the bathroom mirror.

Bachira sat behind him, mesmerized as he worked. He loved watching hair braiding- he used to watch his mom do the same thing to her own hair before gathering her paints, his little boy brain blown as she smoothed it down into a single neat rope. Even now, he couldn’t help but be amazed by how effortless Chigiri made it look.

But right now wasn’t the time to gawk. He had a small window of opportunity.

This hairstyle required both arms up and out of the way, giving Bachria the perfect place to attack. He waited until Chigiri was tucking the last bobby pin against the base before shooting his hands out, going straight for the armpits.

“AH!” Chigiri squealed, falling backwards with a high-pitched yelp. Then he was laughing, squirming to and from against Bachira’s chest as he tried blocking out the mischievous fingers. “Gehahahahahaha! Noooo! Nohoohoho, don’t you dahhahahhare!”

“Good morning, ChiChi! How are you today? Aww, are you ticklish?” Bachria cooed, watching his cheeks go red as he covered his face in mirth, feet kicking. “What lovely hair- is it secure? Just testing out the endurance of it!”

“Bahhahahahchira, cohoohohome ohoohohohon!” Chigiri cried out, all but squeaking when those hands lowered to his ribs. “Plehhahahahhahahse!”

“Hehe, okay~” Bachira retreated, standing up and leaving a now exhausted Chigiri gasping for air against the floor. His hair- to Bachira’s satisfaction- remained the same. “Test complete- that’s a strong braid you got going on! Okay- bye bye!” He turned to leave, barely hearing Chigiri’s muffled curse as he went to find his next victim.

~~~

“Hm?” Gagamaru blinked when he felt a tap on his arm, turning to find-

Nothing. There was no one there.

“Is that you, Naruhaya?” He asked casually, figuring the tiny player was hiding in his blind spot. Another tap, this one on his elbow. He turned, and still- there was no one. “I’m not giving you food. I don’t even have any on me right now.”

Silence. Maybe he was being haunted?

Wouldn’t be the first time.

Another tap, this one on his lower back. Twisting- he found Naruhaya sitting by. “Found you!” He ran up, missing the fact the younger boy was sitting way too far to be the culprit, and grabbed his sides- squeezing gently. “What are you up to, you food thief?”

“Aheheahhahahaha! Whahahhahait, I dihihihiidn’t ehehehehven mohohohohove!” Naruhaya cried, cheeks flushing an adorable shade of pink as he squirmed and giggled in Gagamaru’s clutches. “I prohohoohoohmise!”

“Yeah right- you keep tapping me and running. I know your tricks.” Gagamaru moved a hand to his belly, making him squeal. “Confess, and I’ll let you be.”

“BUUHUHUHUT I DHIIHIHIHN’T DOOHOOHOH IT!”

“Keep on saying that-” Something brushed his shoulders, making the bigger boy shoot up. Forgetting to tickle, he turned- finding nothing once more. Okay- he was definitely haunted.

“What’s going on? Are you bullying Naruhaya, Gaga-chan?” Bachira tsked, walking up with a secret smile. Ah- there’s his ghost. “That’s not very nice of you. Naru-chan? Wanna get him back?”

“Yehehahhahah!” Naruhaya didn’t need to be told twice, already standing.

“Wait…don’t do it…” Gagamaru held up his hands, but the pair were already on him, fingers flying over his torso. He tried fighting back, but then Bachira found that same spot against his shoulder blades and it was all over. “Oh nohohohoohohooho!”

“Oh yes!” Bachira giggled, stepping back as Naruhaya took over, giggling along with him. Good luck, Gaga-chan! Now, who's next…?”

~~~

“X”

“Oh come ON!”

“What? ‘X’ is a fair guess!”

“Just how many words do you know that have an ‘X’ in them?”

“Xenomorph, X-Ray, Excalibur-”

“IT’S SIX LETTERS!”

“Guys, calm down.” Kuon sighed from his spot, shaking his head as he drew a foot on the hanging stick figure. “Unfortunately, ‘X’ is not on the list. Wanna buy a vowel?”

“Told you.” Raichi rolled his eyes at Iemon, crossing his arms across his chest as he glared at the notepad. So far, the six spaces contained a “O”, a “T” and a “R”. “Eh..sure. Give me a- “YEE!”

“‘YE’ is two letters.” Kuon raised a brow. “Which one?”

Raichi twisted around, rubbing his sides. He swore someone just poked him in the ribs. “Hang on- What the hell, Iemon? Why are you trying to sabotage?”

“Me? I didn’t do anything!” The goalie squawked in shock, eyes widening at the accusation. “Tell him, Kuon!”

“Really- he didn’t move.” Kuon nodded, tilting his head. “What’s up?”

“...Nothing- forget it. I’m guessing ‘E’” Raichi waved it off, a pinch of smugness in his chest when Kuon wrote it in. “See? I’m good at guessing!”

“If you're so good, why not go for the word then?” Iemon asked, turning to the paper. “Actually- I’ll do it. I know the answer!”

“Take a shot!” Kuon got ready. Iemon opened his mouth to speak-

And what came out was a string of giggles.

“...What?” Raichi blinked when the other settled, face on fire.

“I-something- that was…” Iemon stammered. “Nevermind. I’m guessing..’P’?”

“Close, but no.” Kuon popped the marker cap, going to draw a leg. “Not a bad gue-AHH!” His hand slipped, cutting across the paper when he felt two fingers drill into the center of his ribs. Now the little stick man had an elongated broken leg. “What the-”

“Ah! Fuhuhuhuck! No dohoohohn’t!” Raichi hooted when hands attacked his hips, squeezing from behind. Iemon blinked, catching a blur of brown-blond hair.

“Bachi-Gahahhahahaha!” Iemon spasmed when his ribs were once again attacked, this time lingering. “Whahahhahahht?”

“Huh? What-Ehehehehehehhe! Kuon arched with a giggle, notepad flying out of his hands as he tried guarding his armpits, feeling them prodded at.

It went as quickly as it came, leaving the three to stare at one another in wide eyed shock.

What the hell just happened?

~~~

Kunigami let out a slow breath as he positioned himself parallel to the mats. His muscles pulsed, sweat dripping off his bare chest as he began his one armed pushups. The gym was uncharacteristically quiet- usually one or two people would wander in at this hour to get a quick run or lift some weights. Today- Kunigami figured- everyone else was simply too tired to do it.

“KUNI!”

“SHIT-”

Nevermind then.

Bachira laughed gleefully as he watched Kunigami faceplant, groaning softly against the worn-in mats. “Wow- look at you, using one arm! Trying to show off?” He waltzed over and grabbed a nearby towel, tossing it across Kunigami’s back before taking a seat. “Why not wait until he comes in?”

Kunigami didn’t ask who “he” was, nor did he complain about the additional weight against his back. Instead, he adjusted himself so he was pushing with both hands, resuming his workout. “I don’t just do this for attention, Meguru. I do it because I love it.” Kunigami grunted some as Bachira adjusted, lying across his back and evening out the weight distribution.

“But you like it though? ChiChi watching you?” He teased, grinning when Kunigami’s neck flushed.

“...Maybe.”

“Admit it!” Bachira giggled, dropping his hands down and clawing at the softer parts of Kunigami’s belly. “You like ChiChi watching you!”

“Ah!” Kunigami yelped as he hit the mat again, catching himself on his elbows so he didn’t break Bachira’s fingers. “Stahahhap! Stop thahahhahat! Bahahhachiraahhahaha!”

“Admit it first! You like Chigiri! Say it! Say it!” Bachira cooed at him, hanging on as the other tried twisting this way and out of his grip. “Say it or I won’t stop tickling you!”

“Ahehahha! Fihiihihne! Pfft- Geahhaha! Fihiihihine, you wihiihhiihn!” Kunigami cried, tapping the mat repeatedly. “I like hiihihim, now stahhahap!”

Bachira did as promised, pulling his hands back and standing. “Knew it. Don’t wait too long to tell him now. He just might like you back.”

“Like who back?” As if the devil himself had been called. Bachira grinned at Chigiri’s confused expression, winking at Kunigami as he made his way towards the door.

~~~

“Want some?”

“No way.”

“Come on!” Igarashi groaned, bowing his head in plea as he presented his pickled radish. “One trade? I won’t ask again!”

“Dude, no way! Pickled Radish makes my breath stink. How the hell am I to pick up girls like that?” Yudai shook his head, leaning away from the dish. “Besides- it’s not like I’ve got anything better.” On his own tray were two soft boiled eggs. “I’m starting to hate eggs…”

“It’s not like we’re going to be meeting any girls while we’re here! Plus it taste’s alright!” Igarashi gave him his best big eyes. “I haven’t had soft boiled eggs on rice in so long! I’m craving them!”

“Move up in rank and you’ll have them then.” Yudai rolled his eyes, breaking a yolk over his rice. His stomach turned at the sight. “Nevermind. Here.” He traded.

“Yes! Thank you so much, Yudai! I’ll never forget you after you eventually lose!” Igarashi cheered, taking his eggy rice.

“What the hell does that even mean?” He rolled his eyes before taking the radish. Well- at least it was new.

“Hey guys!” Bachira bounced over, leaning in so he was between them. “Whatcha doing?”

“Making ourselves like this stuff.” Yudai poked at his tray, nose twitching as Igarashi devoured his rice. “Hey, do you like pickled Radish?”

“Mm..nah.” Bachira shook his head. “But you know what I do like?”

“What?” Yudai raised a brow, Igarashi putting down his bowl in equal curiosity.

No warning was given. Bachira simply put his arms around both their waists and attacked.

“AH! Ahehahahahhahaha, nohohohohoho come ohohohohn mahahhahahan!” Yudai cried out, nearly drowned out by Igagauri’s own wails of mirth.

“Gheahhahahahahahha! Nohohoohooho! Dohoohohohohn’t I’m tihiihihhicklish!”

“Are you now? Man, you two are so quiet- I nearly forgot you were here!” Bachira cooed sweetly, moving his hands to their bellies and earning even more squeals and laughs. “I need to do this more often, he he he~”

He pulled away, not before reaching out and stealing an egg. Smiling at the taste, he turned to his own tray, placing his plate of abandoned udon between them. “Thanks boys!”

Igarashi’s complaints about the egg were quickly forgotten as he and Yudai thanked him relentlessly, spitting the dish. Bachria grinned as he headed out.

Only one more person to go.

~~~ “So what do you wanna work on?” Isagi asked as they walked out to the field, stretching his arms. “Speed? Dribbling? Scoring?”

“Actually- I wanna work on something new.” Bachira walked up, an easy grin on his lips. The lack of a soccer ball should have been Isagi’s warning. “I wanna work on blocking.”

“Blocking? Alright.” Isagi shrugged, figuring they really didn’t need one then. “Like, blocking an approach or pushing past one?”

Bachira didn’t respond, only continued to smile. Isagi felt himself twitch, suddenly unsure of himself. “Erm..Bachira?”

“Hey, Isagi.”

“...Yeah?”

There was a flash, and suddenly the world was upside down. Isagi smelled the grass before he hit it, barely registering the feeling before he was dragged under again with waves of ticklishness.

“Ah! Aheahhahahahhahaha! Whahahahhait, whahahahhahait- Bahhhahachira!” Isagi cried, kicking his feet and twisting about as Bachira’s fingers flew against his ribs, focusing towards the center as he slowly began his descent towards his lower set. “Whahhahahaht the heheheheheehell?”

“I saved you for last, Isagi-chan~ I wanted to hear you laugh the most today!” Bachira cooed sweetly at him, going right for that awful spot on the lowest rib. Isagi arched with a shriek, laughter blossoming out of his lips as his squirms increased. “I wanna hear you squeal like a pig!”

“BAHAHHAHAHCHIRA, STAHHAHAHAHAHAP!” Isagi wailed, cheeks on fire and eyes wet with mirth. He pushed with his heels, trying in vain to get away. His hands circled Bachria’s wrists, gently tugging. “OHOOOHKAY STAHHAHAHP!”

Giggling, Bachira pulled back, resting his hands gently against Isagi’s belly as the other gasped for air, smiling warmly at him. “Hehe, you’re adorable, Isagi-chan.”

“Heh…hehehe…” Isagi rolled his eyes, moving his own hands up from Bachria’s wrists to his hands, holding them within his own. “Tehehhell me…dihiihd you actually wahahhant to train?”

“Nope!” Bachira popped the “P”, grinning. “But since we’re here, we can do something else~”

Isagi raised a brow, sitting up. “And that is…?”

Bachira’s lips silenced any questions he had as they pressed gently into his own. Not that he was complaining.

~~~

The day was long but rewarding, and Bachira giggled himself silly as he tugged on his sweats, fresh out of the shower. The entire time, he kept replaying the highlights in his head, his lips still tingling from Isagi’s kiss. The perfect ending to a fairly mischievous day.

And yet…he couldn’t shake the feeling something was missing. The smallest detail to make the day even greater than it was.

As he walked into the main room, watching the boys set up for bed, it hit him.

Quite literally.

“Grab him!” Raichi called, and Bachira turned on his heels, running for the door. Just a few more steps- “Nope! Chigiri was before him, his speed proving useful beyond the soccer field. A second of hesitation proved all that the other’s needed; Bachria squeaked when arms came around his waist, hiking him up and off the floor.

“Sorry, Bachira- but not really.” Gagamaru sounded deeply amused as he unceremoniously dropped him into a pile of futons. “You brought this on yourself.”

Bachira went to mock-argue, but all that came out were giggles of anticipation as the rest of the team came around him, Kunigami’s hands gathering his wrists in a gentle but firm hold as Isagi took his rightful seat across his lap. At least his back was protected. For now.

“Ready?” Isagi asked, raising his hands with wiggling fingers. On each side of him, Raichi cracked his knuckles while Chigiri giggled softly in his hands. Behind them, someone grabbed his ankle-possible Kuon, maybe Iemon? It really didn’t matter in a minute.

“Ahehehe- hohohold on! Wahhahait, wahhahit.” Bachira giggled out, willing his heart to slow. It didn’t- the pause only made his anticipation worse. “Neehhehevermind, just doohohoho it!”

“Eager, aren’t we?” Kunigami teased as they looked to Isagi to make the call. With an unfairly long pause, Isagi smirked.

“Get’em!” He shouted, and Bachira burst into howls of mirth as multiple hands attacked at once. Isagi took the lead going right for the ribs while Rachi drilled into his hips. Chigiri- oh that devil- he slipped his hands beneath him so he could claw at his back! His legs weren’t any better- someone’s hand danced along his sole while the other squeezed his knee and calf like they were playing guitar. Kunigami, much to his credit, didn’t attack- instead opting to keep Bachria’s arms up and out of the way. That, however, didn’t stop Naruhaya from slipping under his arm so he could give his neck and ears a few playful scribbles.

“GHEHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! WAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA!”

Teases and jeers were thrown at him, but he could barely think beyond just how ticklish it all was. He didn’t know if he was pleading for mercy or simply laughing- everything was a bit of a blur. Had it been a minute or ten? Was he still in this universe or had he transcended into a new one?

“Okay- STOP!” Isagi called, and instantly the hands retracted. Noise returned- he could hear the others laughing around him, cooing at him sweetly or jeering about how he had it coming. In the corner of his eye, he could see Kunigami gently prod at Chigiri earning a swat and a halfhearted glare.

It was all nice, but nothing beat seeing Isagi above him, blue eyes like the sky he so rarely saw since coming to Blue Lock. A smile played on his face as he reached out, cool fingers gently brushing sweaty bangs off his face. A pair of even softer lips followed, pressing gently along his brow before he climbed off, mumbling something about getting the dribbler some water.

“Best day EVER!” Igarashi cheered, earning a chorus of both “Hell Yeah!”s and “Shut the hell up!”s. Bachira giggled breathlessly as he curled beneath the futon he laid upon, watching the rest of them find their own. He felt light and dizzy and giggly and warm. So comfortably warm, like he was lying in his favorite spot at his Mom’s art studio. Isagi reappeared, water in hand, crawling beneath the blankets and pulling the smaller boy close.

“You okay?” Isagi asked in his hair, his hand brushing his back in a soothing gesture. “We didn’t go too far, did we?”

Too tired to talk, Bachira shook his head, feeling Isagi relax against him. His mind was halfway to dreamland, the rest of Team Z fading away until he could only hear Isagi’s heartbeat. “Thanks for making my day better, Yoiichi.”

Maybe he said it out loud. Maybe he dreamed about it. Bachira would never know. All he remembered was the sound of Isagi’s heart racing faster, the arms around him tightening some with such care.

He dreamed of endless blue skies that night.

Thanks for reading!

[eggymf-archived]

of paper planes and wildflowers; 05

ft. ominis gaunt with f!reader (series)

chapter warnings: mildly grotesque jinx effects, icky men, stalking, not edited, not proofread

chapter summary: you didn’t know which was the worst thing that happened within the same week: constantly being targeted by an insufferable 7th year, randomly getting assigned in tutoring a classmate you dislike, or the fact that your heart might’ve raced when a certain blonde-haired slytherin pulled a rather uncharacteristic stunt to get a creep off your back.

word count: almost 4.6k

a/n: this is a bit of a filler in a way to set the events for pt. 6 of this fic. also, my updates will most likely be slowing down due to my work load irl, but i’ll try to dish out at least one chapter every week or so. cheers! :)

main masterlist || series masterlist || AO3

“Oi, stop right there!” an annoying voice belonging to a 7th year prefect called out from the end of the halls – the last person you ever want to encounter especially without any of your friends by your side.

“Oh no,” you groaned, rolling your eyes as you quickly turned to the opposite direction, briskly walking away. You always thought you had the tenacity of a badger especially when it comes to handling difficult situations. Unfortunately, this was one of those days where you specifically wanted to knee someone extremely hard on the crotch for being an insufferable prat.

Robert Bulstrode: 7th year Slytherin Prefect – also known as the Twat of the Century according to you, and Garreth Weasley. Robert Bulstrode was bad news according to many students due to his foul deeds. At first glance, he seems like a dashing young gentleman with perfect manners – the heir of the wealthy pureblooded-family of Bulstrode, tall with toned muscles, pearly white teeth, soft ebony hair, and quite an alluring gaze. Albeit his Adonis-like appearance, he is one of the most disgustingly vile degenerates within the school. Unfortunately, you’ve been his target for around three to four days now, and it was most certainly taking a toll on your sanity.

It all started with the misfortune of you getting caught in the heavy rain while you were out collecting some Ashwinder eggs at the cliffs near the Quidditch pitch. You weren’t wearing your uniform on that day due to it being just another relaxing Sunday: just a simple button-down shirt and a pair of grey trousers. Upon entering the Bell Tower Wing completely soaked to the bone, Bulstrode just so happened to catch a glimpse of your wet clothes clinging onto your figure. He has been lecherously staring and stalking you eversince. 

Garreth did offer to be your chaperone and has been doing it so for the past few days. However, your best friend had been forced to do some extra assignments by Professor Weasley this particular morning, hence his absence. Needless to say, the 7th year prefect often pestered you to no end about going on a “date” with him whenever you weren’t in the safe company of any of your friends. 

“Come on. Just one date! I promise I’ll make it worth your while!”

You ignored the male, who was catching up to you while you briskly walked to the Potions Classroom. 

“I won’t stop asking until you say yes.”

You felt the last remaining threads of your patience snap, causing your lips to curl into a close-mouthed, insincere smile as you exhaled sharply through your nose.

Upon noticing that the hallways is currently desolated except for you two, you halted. Swiftly, you grabbed your wand and pointed the tip at Robert’s direction with the same mirthless smile on your face, firing two consecutive jinxes. Robert collapsed and landed on the ground with a loud thud, his legs now a jelly-like consistency. Pimples began to pop out of his once unblemished face at an alarming rate, and small tentacles sprouted out of the newly-formed pustules. The 7th year screamed in horror as his hands felt the tendril-like appendages tickling the surface of his palm. 

“Obliviate,” you wordlessly casted, cleaning up the scene of your own little crime. You then turned your heel the moment you saw Robert’s eyes roll to the back of his head, slipping into a state of unconsciousness due to his screaming session.

“Why couldn’t more men be like Ves?!” you thought bitterly as you headed to the Potions Classroom in peace. Overtime as more letters were exchanged between you and him, Ves became your bare minimum standard when it comes to men: kind, respectful, considerate, thoughtful, emotionally mature, and clever in his own right. You couldn’t say much for his looks since you haven’t met him yet, but you were certain that there’s this possibility that he’s probably very prince-like in his own way. The sole thought itself made you shamefully swoon deep down.

And Bulstrode? He’s nothing compared to Ves.

Going to the Potions Classroom early wasn’t something that Ominis usually did, and if he was instructed to do so by none other than Professor Sharp himself, it usually spelled out some sort of trouble for the young Gaunt. Ominis never really favored the Potions Master: Sharp was indeed knowledgeable, but he was insanely strict and grumpy most of the time, usually expecting his students to fare well with little to no guidance. This teaching method has proved itself to be a huge disadvantage to Ominis due to his lack of sight, and it was evident with the usually poor grades he got in every practical lesson under Sharp’s tutelage. 

“Good morning, Professor Sharp. You wanted to talk about my grades?” Ominis worriedly asked the ex-Auror, who hobbled towards his usual seat at the front of his classroom with his usual gruff expression on his face. He flipped the thick book atop his table, running his finger along the pages to search for the young Gaunt’s grades.

“Ah yes, Mr. Gaunt,” Professor Sharp began, leaning comfortably against the backrest of his chair. 

“Based on your record, it seems that you’ve been severely underperforming in your practical activities. While you have a firm grasp on the lessons when it comes to theory, you are aware that your OWLs is a practical test, correct?”

Ominis nodded in response, silently dreading what the middle-aged man was about to say.

“If that’s the case, I hope you understand the severity of the situation regarding your current grades, Mr. Gaunt,” Professor Sharp said grimly, tapping his finger against the wooden surface of the table. “To put it simply, you’re on thin ice. And I’d rather not have any of my students fail in this class.”

“Then perhaps you should actually teach instead of shove the textbook down our throats?” Ominis sarcastically remarked in his thoughts, keeping his poker face intact as Professor Sharp continued.

“In light of your current situation, you are to do extra assignments from me. I will be requiring you to brew several potions from past lessons, and I shall be assigning one of your classmates to aid you with these tasks.” 

A rather loud thud on one of the tables echoed throughout the nearly empty classroom, causing Professor Sharp to dart his eyes towards you who had slammed your textbook by accident. Your eyes widened, muttering an apology. The ebony-haired professor narrowed his eyes, humming.

“Ms. (L/N), a word?” he called, causing you to hurriedly skedaddle towards the front of the classroom.

“Yes, sir?”

“Mr. Gaunt here is in dire need of some guidance in the extra assignments that I’ll be assigning to him. As one of the better-performing students in this class, I trust that you’ll be capable of ensuring that he’ll at least get an acceptable grade for his OWLs?” Professor Sharp asked, his tone sounding more like an order than a question. You briefly glanced at Ominis, who had his lips formed into a tight line, and then back to the professor.

“If Gaunt is alright with it, then I’ll do what I can,” you curtly replied. Before Ominis could breathe another word, Professor Sharp had cut him off.

“Very well. I shall give you both the list of assignments after class.”

Ominis frowned, grumbling as he navigated his way to his usual table while you returned to yours with an equally displeased expression etched on your face. Within a few minutes, your classmates began to pour in, occupying the remaining seats of the classroom. Professor Sharp then stood up, signifying the start of class. All of you were required to brew an Invigoration Draught, much to your relief. The draught was fairly easy to concoct despite its brewing time and rather long list of ingredients. 

You finished most of the steps fairly easily with little to no obstacles. While you were waiting for your draught to turn into a shade of blue as it cooled down, Garreth had occupied the other vacant burner, concocting another one of his brews to pass the time. 

“Hey, do you happen to have some extra billywig stings?” Garreth queried. You handled him a jar containing the said ingredient and he received it gratefully with his usual boyish grin.

Everyone bolted upright the moment the classroom door swung open, the sound of the door slamming against the stone wall echoing throughout the enclosed space. Much to everyone’s surprise, Nurse Blainey scurried into the Potions Classroom and hurried towards Professor Sharp with a rather frantic expression on her face.

“Professor Sharp, do you happen to have any cure for boils within your storage?” the nurse asked in a lowered volume. Garreth nudged you, tilting his head towards the two adults. You leaned slightly closer, attempting to eavesdrop on their conversation slightly together with the red-haired Gryffindor male beside you.

“I believe I’ve given Professor Black the last of the phials, but I can brew one immediately. Is there something the matter?” Professor Sharp asked.

“A student found Robert Bulstrode in one of the corridors with jelly legs and tentacles coming out of his face. We assume somebody had used both the jelly-legs and pimple jinx on the poor boy,” Nurse Blainey explained, causing Sharp to raise an eyebrow in mild amusement and one corner of his mouth to twitch slightly upwards before clearing his throat when the nurse shot him a serious look.

“I’ll brew it immediately,” Professor Sharp grunted. “But it may take a while, so I humbly request for your patience.”

“Please do. The boy has been wailing and complaining all morning in the hospital wing! I’m at my wit’s end!”

Garreth turned to you with wide eyes and a look of realization as Nurse Blainey exited the classroom.

“Did you...?” Garreth trailed off.

“...Did I?” you teasingly feigned innocence, causing the ginger-haired male to audibly snort in an attempt to suppress his laughter. You uncontrollably let out a mild snigger, biting your lower lip in hopes of preventing yourself from laughing out loud while you elbowed Garreth on the rib to make him stop infecting you with his contagious hysterics. 

“Y’know, I don’t know which one is funnier,” Garreth snickered while leaning towards your ear. “Bulstrode getting jinxed or Black needing a cure for boils – where’d you reckon he has those? His buttocks?”

You and Garreth wheezed in unison, erupting in coughs and snorts to mask both of your hysterical laughter. The both of you stopped your antics immediately when Professor Sharp walked by your table, prompting you to check your cauldron: the room temperature liquid within it was finally in the shade of blue as described in the textbook. You grabbed a flask and filled it up with the draught before going to Professor Sharp to get your potion graded. He swirled the liquid within the flask, checking for its consistency and popped the cork stopper off, smelling its contents. He gave a nod of approval, scribbling an “O” beside your name in his records. 

You went back to the table while Garreth went to have his attempt checked. You pointed your wand towards your cauldron, making the invigoration draught within it disappear. Moments right after, Garreth returned to the table and and proceeded to clean his cauldron up as well before focusing on his ongoing concoction until classes end. As soon as you were done with cleaning up your station, Imelda Reyes walked up to you.

“Hey (L/N). Sharp told me to switch seats with you. Said something about you guiding Gaunt with his potions from now on,” she explained. You nodded, heading over to the table right across the other side of the room despite your reluctance. 

Ominis dejectedly sighed at his cauldron while he sat on his stool, just waiting for the class to end. However, he immediately sat upright when he heard someone place their things atop the table. Ominis felt a presence getting nearer, peering at his cauldron.

“Oh, you’re almost done. The color is a bit off, though. I think you need slightly a bit more drops of the infusion of wormwood – perhaps one or two?” you suggested.

“But the book said–”

“The book’s got a lot of wrong measurements actually. Just trust me on this.” you reassured. Ominis scoffed lightly at your signature know-it-all tendency but acquiesces nonetheless. A deafeningly awkward silence loomed over the both of you as you both awaited Ominis’ draught to be done. You peered into his cauldron again, finding that the once pale blue liquid is now vivid blue just like your recent attempt.

“It’s done,” you said, handing Ominis an empty flask. He carefully filled the flask up with the draught, immediately going to Professor Sharp to have his attempt checked. Sharp narrowed his eyes, inspecting the draught carefully.

“Hmm. Decently made,” Professor Sharp hummed, scribbling an “E” beside Ominis’ name in his records for once. Ominis’ eyes widened upon hearing Sharp out of all professors utter those words of approval. Sharp also handed the befuddled young Slytherin two pieces of parchment containing the extra assignments he shall be tasked to do before his OWLs. As he walked back to the table, you looked at him expectantly.

“... Well?” you asked, your lips curling into a knowing smirk.

“Hmm. I suppose you actually do your job pretty well,” Ominis hummed. 

“Hmm. Then perhaps you should listen to me from now on,” you smugly retorted in a slightly mimicking fashion, causing the young Gaunt to scoff in return while cleaning his cauldron up.

You were currently in your room at your desk, scribbling on a piece of parchment while the thick book that was levitating beside you flipped to the next page. You were rushing your assignments due in three days – something you would’ve already been finished with it if it weren’t for that blasted stalker of yours. Luckily for you, Madam Scribner was kind enough to let you borrow extra books that you could study within the comfort of your own dorm room. 

The sound of large flapping wings entered the room: Russ had flown in through the open window, carrying two neatly stacked boxes tied together with a thick piece of twine with his talons. He dropped the package right at your bedside before flying up towards his perch for his usual fill of owl treats. Bits of pellets materialized in front of the owl, who hooted in appreciation. Placing your quill neatly back into the ink pot, you untied the package and opened the smaller box atop the larger one, finding an envelope placed neatly on a packet of assorted cookies. Prying the flap open, you began to read the letter’s contents.

Dearest Lucie, I apologize for sending a letter out of the blue, but I simply couldn’t help but to feel rather worried of your wellbeing. I noticed that your reply to my previous letter I sent last Saturday hasn’t arrived. Is everything alright? I didn’t upset you or anything, did I? For good measure, I attached a gift alongside this letter. Hopefully it’s not too much for your liking.  Worried and missing you, Ves

Placing the larger box on your lap, you carefully lifted the cover. You were greeted by a neat array of dark pink and crimson red carnations, its sweet fragrance lingering lightly in the air. Your once moody expression was now non-existent, fully replaced with a huge grin and a shade of light pink dusting your cheeks as you conjured a fresh piece of parchment and grabbing your quill, writing your reply while Russ was still in the room resting atop his perch.

“Pink and red carnations, huh...” you mused out loud, a knowing giggle bubbling from your lips.

The sound of light footsteps on hardwood floor alongside the faint scribbling of quill tips against parchment and the gentle crackling of the nearby fireplace filled the quiet air within the library. The majority of the students present within the place were mostly busy with their own assignments and readings. Ominis was sitting in one of the long tables, rather distracted from his task at hand. He was supposed to be doing his essay on the properties of alihotsy leaves due in a few days, yet he was spacing out while staring at his pile of books. 

Giving to his urge of momentary procrastination, he let out a sigh and slipped out an envelope that had he had sandwiched between one of his textbooks. Upon opening the letter, a pleasant scent combination of freesias and peonies greeted Ominis’ nostrils, causing a faint smile to grace his usually vacant expression.

Dearest Ves, I apologize for my slow reply. To be honest, I haven’t been able to go to the owlery as frequently and freely as I can without at least a friend tagging along. This week has been absolutely dreadful so far and I’ve been traversing through the hallways in fear especially when I’m alone. I’m being targeted by a 7th year who can’t seem to know what “no” is – can you imagine someone being that daft? He had more than a decade to have a full grasp on that basic concept yet he acts like an animal in heat at the mere sight of a young lady in wet clothes? Thinking about it makes me absolutely livid. I can’t believe I’m being held back from going out and about even within the school grounds because of some prefect who can’t keep his behavior and shameful urges in check.  Regardless, I would like to thank you for your wonderful gifts. They truly did make my terrible week a lot better, and I would love to repay you for your thoughtfulness. Alas, all I can offer you for now is one of my pressed roses since my hands are tied for now. The scent of the flower has already faded a long time ago. But not to worry, I shall not give you a scentless parchment. I spritzed some of my own perfume while I’m still confined within the school. I promise I’ll send you more flowers once I have my freedom back again. With love, Lucie P.S. You certainly have an interesting choice when it comes to flowers. It’s rather poetic and subtle of you, not that I’m complaining.

The opal-eyed male’s eyebrows furrowed as he tucked the letter back into its envelope, sandwiching it carefully in his transfiguration textbook which rested on top of the short stack of books neatly arranged beside him. He loosely gripped on his self-inking quill, unable to focus on the assignment he was doing while he waited for your arrival. Out of worry for Lucie’s wellbeing, he racked through his brain on who the stalker might possibly be.

7th year prefect? Skirt-chasing? Has an ego so fragile he can’t handle rejection? 

Ominis slowly tapped the tip of his quill on the table surface as he pondered.

Why does that person sound way too much like–

“I know I’m late. I got caught up with something,” a familiar voice grumbled, snapping Ominis out of his train of thought. You sat at the vacant seat beside him, slamming your potions textbook open. The aggressiveness shocked everyone within the same table, to which you paid no mind to since you were absolutely exhausted and stressed out. 

“Grumpy today, huh?” Ominis remarked, causing a sigh to escape from your lips.

“Gaunt, I’m tired. Can we just please get this over with?” you irritably retorted, causing the male to put his hands up in defeat while you turned his potions textbook to the same page as yours. Miraculously, Ominis had agreed to let you change some of the measurements within the recipes in his potions textbook that were incorrect to make his potion brewing a lot easier. Minutes passed quickly as you tutored the opal-eyed male while he made the revisions in his textbook.

“So for the Wiggenweld Potion, it’s actually 10 lionfish spines and not 9–”

You were cut off by a distant sound, specifically the obnoxious voice of the person you’ve been desperately avoiding followed by contemptuous laughter from his two cronies. You glanced at the trio of misfits, clicking your tongue in annoyance.  You hadn’t expected Robert Bulstrode to recover that quickly from your mild onslaught of jinxes.

“I should’ve verbally jinxed him instead,” you hissed under your breath lowering your head slightly to avoid getting seen by the 7th year. 

“Jinxed who?” Ominis asked while raising an eyebrow, his sharp hearing catching what you had just said. Inhaling a lungful of air to calm your overthinking thoughts, you decided to confess your deeds in hopes of obtaining the possibility of receiving the alabaster-skinned male’s assistance once again.

“Your house’s bloody foul git of a prefect, of course!” you contemptuously scoffed. Ominis’ mouth hung slightly ajar, before uncharacteristically morphing into a rather excited grin.

“You jinxed Bulstrode?”

“... Did I?” you sarcastically retorted, poorly feigning your innocence. The opal-eyed male cleared his throat, masking the bubbling snicker that threatened to escape his lips.

“Well done,” Ominis praised, causing you to snort in response at the unexpected approval. You quickly cleared your throat, reverting back to your once serious expression. You snuck a look at Bulstrode, who was staring at you intensely. You gasped in mild terror, looking away immediately. 

“I take it that you need my assistance once again?” Ominis drawled, his lips curling into a teasing smirk.

“As much as I don’t want it, I believe you do owe me a favor,” you huffed.

“A favor? What favor?”

“Your grades in potions?”

“You were ordered to do this by Sharp, though. It doesn’t count.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t help you get at least an A for your OWLs, am I correct?” you bargained, glancing at Ominis. The alabaster-skinned male pondered for a moment before letting out a hum.

“Make it an E.”

“Deal.”

Ominis grabbed your wrist, dragging you into the a random section within the library away from prying eyes. This prompted Robert to get off his seat and follow the both of you, hiding behind several bookcases and watching your every move. You looked at Ominis quizzically as he backed you up against one of the bookcases.

“What in Merlin’s name are you doing?!” you hissed while narrowing your eyes suspiciously. Ominis leaned towards your ear, placing his hand right beside your head to prevent you from escaping. 

“First and foremost, we’re doing this my way. Whatever I say goes until he’s off your back, are we clear?” he muttered while you sighed in defeat.

“Fine. But what does this have to do with anything?” you angrily whispered while Ominis sighed disapprovingly at your hostility.

“I can feel someone staring at us from one of the bookcases nearby. Two o’clock from where you’re facing. Is that him?”

You quickly glanced towards the direction Ominis said, finding a tuft of ebony hair and a pair of raging watchful eyes behind several books. You redirected your gaze towards the opal-eyed male.

“...Yes?”

“Let’s give him a good show, shall we?”

 Ominis cupped his hand against your cheek. You were about to protest by pushing him away, but he immediately shushed you.

“Play along. I know what I’m doing,” he breathed out, resting his forehead against yours. He rubbed your cheek gently with his thumb while you instinctively leaned towards the comforting warmth of his palm more, your eyes getting heavier by the second. Your breaths slowed yet deepened as you gazed within Ominis’ misty blue eyes, feeling your heartbeat quicken the longer your stared at it.

“You know, I think you’re enjoying this a little too much,” he whispered softly with a slightly teasing tone, his breath fanning against your lips. “Your heartbeat’s getting rather quick.”

“You’re begging to be hexed right now, aren’t you?” you deadpanned. Ominis scoffed lightly at the hidden bashfulness behind your tone.

“So, is he still there?” he asked, ignoring your empty threat.

Your eyes wandered towards the bookshelf: Robert’s face was turning bright red with rage, seethingly glaring at the both of you.

“... Yes, and he’s angry.”

“Good,” Ominis muttered, inching his lips towards yours. Your eyes slowly closed, feeling yourself lean towards Ominis unconsciously.

SLAM!

The both of you jolted in surprise: Robert Bulstrode had thrown one of the books he had been gripping onto angrily right onto the hardwood floor, storming off the library section out of sheer rage. Keeping to his word, you felt Ominis push himself away from your frame, much to your relief. He leaned back against the nearest bookcase, crossing his arms while smirking as Madam Scribner began to give Robert and his two henchmen a huge earful about handling school properties with better care. 

“See? That wasn’t too difficult now, was it?” Ominis chuckled while you were partially still in a daze, confused with what had just occurred.

“... Wait. That’s it?” you bemusedly ask, causing the blonde-haired male to chortle at your reaction.

“What? Were you expecting something more?” Ominis mockingly queried, causing you to glare at him half-heartedly. With arms crossed and cheeks tinged in a shade of bright red, you stomped back to the table where the both of you were studying at while Ominis tailed after you with a smug little smirk plastered on his face.

With Robert Bulstrode out of the library after witnessing the stunt that Ominis had pulled, the rest of your study session with the young Gaunt went surprisingly smooth. After studying for potions, the both of you sat in silence, doing the remainder of your assignments until the library was nearing its closing hours. 

Much to your surprise, Ominis even offered to accompany you all the way to the Ravenclaw Tower. Not wanting to cast another disillusionment charm on yourself for the umpteenth time this week, you happily agreed. The walk to the tower, albeit silent, was rather peaceful – the both of you were in deep thought regarding everything that had transpired within the rather chaotic day.

“You didn’t have to escort me back into my common room, you know?” you grumbled, halting at the spiral staircase landing and turning towards the young Gaunt.

“I’m merely sticking to my end of the bargain. Did you really think that Bulstrode would let this slide that easily?”

“I suppose not,” you sighed. “He has been rather persistent for the past week – as thick-headed as a bloody Graphorn.”

“Then I suppose you’re temporarily stuck with me until he’s gone,” Ominis nonchalantly said in a mildly teasing manner, a ghost of a smile worming its way on his face. You scoffed, letting a tired smile form on your lips.

“I’ll see you around, Gaunt. Good night.”

Footsteps against marble echoed lightly throughout the empty stairwell of the Ravenclaw Tower. Ominis leaned back at the nearest wall, his once light-hearted expression instantly morphing into a solemn one as soon as he heard the door to the Ravenclaw Common Room open and slam shut. His mind began to piece the bits of information that he had coincidentally obtained within the day. 

Could it be...?

After much contemplation, he sighed in defeat. He brought his wand up, the tip automatically blinking its distinct red light and proceeded to navigate his way to the Slytherin Common Room while desperately trying to blank out his mind from today’s events.

However, much to his dismay, all he could think about was the specific scent of peonies and freesias that lingered in the air whenever he was near you.

< chapter 4: an adventurer’s whims

chapter 6: blurred lines 🔞 >

[tastybluesprite]

Stuck (disaster twins rottmnt)

Hello!!! This is another turtle tot disaster twins fic!!! Enjoy! For some context I’d say they’re around 9-10 years old here.

Warnings: None, tickling

Summery: Donnie gets stuck. Leo comes to help. Chaos ensues.

Donnie was in a bit of a predicament. The young soft shell was working on something in his lab. Unfortunately, he ended up falling and getting tangled in wires. He was only suspended about an inch from the ground luckily, but the real problem was that he was stuck and couldn’t escape. What was a turtle to do?

He wanted to call for help. But who? Splinter had told them he was busy with something important and warned them that he was not to be bothered. Raph and Mikey had said earlier that they were gonna hang out in the arcade room Donnie had built for them, so there wasn’t much chance of hearing him from there. That left Leo.

Oh boy.

Leo was in his room reading his comics. Perfect shout hearing distance, as it was closer to his lab.

He sighed. He guessed he had no choice. Leo was never going to let him live this down. Finally, but begrudgingly, he accepted defeat.

“LEO! LEO I NEED SOME HELP HERE!” Donnie yelled in his high pitched yelling voice.

A moment later, Leo was in the doorway.

They looked at one another for what seemed like forever, and then Leo burst out laughing.

“Yeah, yeah!” Donnie spat out in annoyance, trying to fight the flush of embarrassment threatening to appear on his face. “Laugh it up!”

“Ohohomigohosh whahat hapehend???” Leo managed through his laughter, holding on to the door to steady himself with one hand and clutching at his plastron with the other.

“Well… I kinda fell… and now I’m stuck…” Donnie explained into a mumble, feeling slowly more and more embarrassed. This made Leo laugh harder.

“Hohold ohohon…” he said, trying to calm himself down, “I need a picture…”

“WHAT!? LEO!!!” Donnie protested angrily.

Leo had left before Donnie could say anything else, and soon, Leo had come back and begun snapping pictures with his phone (Donnie had recently made phones for them).

“I’m gonna cherish these…” Leo grinned when he finished.

“Leo!! Enough! Would you help me already!!!???” Donnie protested again, attempting and failing to escape on his own.

“Fine, fine…” Leo gave in, taking pity on his twin.

He began trying to pull Donnie down, but he was really tangled in. “Man you really got yourself stuck in here…” Leo grunted, trying to pull. He reached for a wire near Donnie’s underarm, Leo accidentally brushed against his armpit while trying to pull it away.

Even if he was still wearing his purple hoodie, Donnie didn’t expect the sudden electric shock jolt through the area of his hoodie, and he had no time to suppress his giggle.

Leo paused at the sound. He couldn’t remember the last time he had heard his usually more quieter and reserved brother laugh like that. He narrowed his eyes and a smirk creeped on his face.

“What was that Donnie?” He teased, poking a finger into the exposed armpit through his brothers purple hoodie. “Is someone ticklish?”

“L-leo! Don’t you dare!” Donnie threatened, now able to suppress the next giggle as he was able to anticipate the action. He struggled and squirmed in place, trying to escape.

“Oh yeah, tough guy? And what are you gonna do about it. Huh?” Leo cooed, wiggling his three small dum dum fingers in Donnie’s face.

Before Donnie could answer, Leo slipped his hand under his hoodie, and began scratching at the baby soft skin of his underarms (well, as soft as turtle skin could be anyway).

Donnie couldn’t laugh. Not now. Not in this position. Not with Leo witnessing it. Leo would absolutely not ever let him live this down now.

But alas, the young soft shell was too ticklish for his own good.

“GAHAHA LEHEHOHOHO!!!!” Donnie squealed through his laughter. It wasn’t really a laugh though. It was more like super loud and high pitched giggles.

“This is priceless.” Leo teased. “The stoic, smart, too grumpy to have fun Donatello, is a ticklish little baby.”

“SHUHUT UHUP EHEVEHRY OHOHONE IHIS!” Donnie argued.

Leo then decided to change it up and went for squeezing at his upper thigh. That’s when Donnie lost it, exploding into hysterical cackles. At this point he couldn’t form another coherent sentence.

“Bad spot?” Leo smirked. He appreciated how his twins face looked. For once, it seemed lively and happy. Tears had begun forming in his eyes. His laughter seemed to be the only sound filling most of the room.

Soon Leo realized he should probably stop. He didn’t want to accidentally kill his own brother.

Donnie fell limp in the tangle of wires. His breathing was heavy and fast, trying to catch his breath.

“You ok Donnie?” Leo asked nervously . He suddenly realized he might’ve gone a bit overboard.

Donnie nodded slowly, not speaking. Leo then tried again at untangling him, making sure to not accidentally tickle him again.

Soon he was finally free. He fell to the ground and collapsed. “Donnie!” Leo rushed to make sure he was ok. But when he saw that his purple branded twin had fallen asleep, his eyes softened and a fond smile grew on his face. He picked him up bridal style and took him to his bed. Then Leo climbed into the bed and laid next to him. The two of them soon fell asleep, taking a nice long afternoon nap.

Leo was sure Donnie would be upset with him when they woke up. But he didn’t care. Now he just wanted to snuggle peacefully with his twin.